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Mikaele Salesa is nothing like Martin imagined. The statements all focused on his size, making him sound like a hulking brute. And make no mistake; Salesa is enormous, with broad shoulders and strong hands. What the statements failed to mention was his grace and charm.
“You must be Martin,” Salesa says, leaning down to kiss his hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“I wasn’t aware Peter was so chatty,” Martin says stiffly, hoping his face doesn’t look as flushed as it feels.
Salesa flashes him a toothy smile. “He certainly can be when he is...inspired.”
Peter clears his throat, and Salesa pretends to look chastened.
“Ah, but our friend prefers to be discreet. Come, have a drink, and we can discuss the business at hand.”
Salesa gestures to a plush sofa, and Martin sits in the middle. Rather than taking a chair, Peter and Salesa sit on either side of him. Martin can feel the warmth of Salesa’s thigh through his trousers.
“Peter tells me you don’t usually enjoy wine, but this, I think you will like,” says Salesa, pouring a glass and handing it to Martin. His smile feels conspiratorial, like they’re sharing a private joke. He watches intently as Martin raises the glass to his lips.
The wine is cool and sweet, with an edge of spice. Martin finds himself drinking faster than he should. The drink leaves a pleasant burn in his chest.
“What is this?” he asks, watching Salesa pour a glass for himself and Peter.
“Honey wine. I have a friend who raises the bees herself. Do you like it?”
With Salesa watching him so intently, Martin can’t help but reply, “Yes. Very much so.” Salesa practically glows with pleasure at his response.
“You see?” Salesa says, leaning over Martin to nudge Peter. “I told you he would enjoy it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Salesa,” Martin says, feeling his cheeks grow hot.
Salesa winks. “Please, Mr. Salesa is my father. I would much prefer you call me Mikaele. Especially if we are to become...more closely acquainted.”
Martin takes a deeper drink, trying in vain to hide his deepening blush.
“Which leads us to the matter at hand,” Peter says, gesturing broadly with his glass.
“Straight to the point as ever,” Mikaele tells Martin. “Our friend lacks subtlety.”
“I simply don’t see the point of beating around the bush,” Peter corrects.
Martin clears his throat. “I understand you have some documents that may help us.”
“And you refuse to let me simply buy them from you like a decent trader,” Peter says irritably.
“I am fond enough of money, but I have enough to last a lifetime. Why should I settle for mere financial gain, when I can have something truly...exquisite?” Mikaele’s gaze travels from Martin’s face to his body, slow and shameless.
Martin swallows. “And you’re sure that’s what you...want,” he says, too overwhelmed to hold Mikaele’s gaze.
“Only if it is agreeable to you. I will not have you unwillingly.”
Martin bites his lip. “It—it is. Agreeable, I mean.”
Mikaele claps his hands. “Excellent! In that case, I do believe you should come closer.”
Without warning, Mikaele’s arms wrap around Martin’s waist, pulling Martin into his lap. Martin yelps, gripping his bicep for balance. Mikaele’s body is firm against his, with just the right amount of softness. His biceps are thick but not showy; muscles built over decades working on a ship, not in a gym. Martin swallows hard.
Mikaele strokes a hand down Martin’s cheek. “Don’t worry, beautiful boy. I would never drop you.”
Mikaele tips Martin’s chin up, leaning in for a slow, deep kiss. Martin lets out a low moan, wrapping his arms around Mikaele’s neck so he can stroke the short hairs growing there. Mikaele growls into his mouth, pulling him closer.
“Your lips are sweet,” Mikaele murmurs. “I wonder, does the rest of you taste so good?”
“You should find out,” Peter says encouragingly.
“I think I will,” Mikaele replies.
To Martin’s shock, Mikaele hooks an arm under his knees, then rises to his feet with Martin in his arms. The gesture makes Martin feel hot all over. Peter kindly opens the door to the bedroom, and Mikaele gently sets him on the bed before kneeling on the floor, his hands heavy on Martin’s thighs.
“I believe these can come off, don’t you?”
Martin unbuttons his jeans with shaking hands, pulling them down to his hips before shimmying out of them with Mikaele’s help.
“These are adorable,” Mikaele says, eyeing the pattern of cartoon ducks on his boxers. He leans in to plant a kiss between Martin’s thighs.
“F-fuck!” Martin gasps, gripping Mikaele’s thick, dark hair as he licks him through the thin cotton. Mikaele responds by sucking him through the fabric. If Martin was wet before, he’s positively dripping now.
Mikaele’s fingers dip inside Martin’s boxers, tracing the edge of his lips with maddening gentleness. Afterwards he pops his fingers into his mouth with a pleasured sigh.
“I was right. You do taste sweet.”
“You should make sure,” Martin says breathlessly, spreading his thighs to grant Mikaele better access. Mikaele tugs Martin’s boxers down so he can shimmy out of them, exposing himself to Mikaele and Peter’s hungry stares.
“Perfect,” Salesa breathes, leaning in to kiss Martin’s slick folds. His tongue darts out to prod between them, licking up Martin’s wetness with each stroke. Martin thrusts his hips against Mikaele’s face, moaning helplessly.
“You’re overdressed,” Peter murmurs in his ear.
“What are you going to do about it?” Martin challenges.
Peter grabs hold of Martin’s shirt and pulls hard, scattering buttons everywhere. One of them lands in Mikaele’s hair; Martin brushes it away absently.
“You owe me a new shirt,” he complains, grinding against Mikaele’s mouth.
Peter kisses the side of his neck. “I’ll buy you a dozen,” he promises.
Martin’s binder receives more civilized treatment, to his relief. Peter helps him wriggle out of it before grabbing two palmfuls of Martin’s chest, kneading them with his strong, callused hands. Martin moans, leaning against Peter’s body. He can feel the outline of Peter’s cock against his arse.
“May I?” Mikaele asks, looking up at Martin’s chest. With Martin’s nod, he stands, leaning over to take one of Martin’s nipples into his mouth. Martin gasps, thrusting his chest forward.
“Oh god,” he moans. His cunt feels cold and empty without Mikaele licking him. He grabs one of Peter’s hands to make up the difference, sighing as Peter toys with his cock.
“These are perfect,” Mikaele murmurs, scraping his teeth against the tender flesh. Martin jerks, and Mikaele repeats the motion until Martin’s thrashing between him and Peter.
“Stop teasing,” Martin complains, grinding against Peter’s palm.
“What if I enjoy you like this?” Mikaele asks. “So needy and wet and open for me.” He reaches down to stroke Martin’s entrance with two fingers, just short of pushing in. Martin whimpers high in his throat.
“I suppose we could take pity on him,” Peter says. “He is being so good for us, after all.”
“Do you want both of us, beautiful boy? Do you want Peter to fuck your arse while I enjoy this lovely wet cunt?” Mikaele asks, circling Martin’s cock with his fingers.
“Yes!” Martin cries, rocking into the pressure.
Mikaele chuckles. “Let’s get you on your knees, then.”
Martin kneels obediently, and Mikaele opens his bedside drawer to retrieve a bottle of lubricant, then tosses it to Peter. Peter’s hands cup Martin’s arse, spreading the cheeks as he leans down to lick his puckered hole.
“Fuck!” Martin whines, pushing against Peter’s mouth. Peter’s beard tickles Martin’s skin as he delves inside. Soon a slick finger presses alongside it, then another. Martin can feel his wetness dripping down his thighs. He’s so aroused it hurts.
“J-just fuck me already,” he orders, and Peter withdraws with a chuckle.
Mikaele strips efficiently, and Martin’s mouth waters. His frame is exactly what Martin imagined, broadly muscled with a hint of paunch. His lower body is tattooed with dozens of dark lines curving around his frame, crisp and symmetrical, with parts of his thighs covered completely. Martin loses track when he sees Mikaele’s cock: thick and uncut, with a mouth-watering curve to the underside.
Martin watches as Mikaele strokes himself with a loose fist. “Do you like what you see?”
All Martin can do is nod, his mouth too dry to speak. Mikaele chuckles, opening a condom and rolling it over his cock. He kneels in front of Martin and positions himself between his thighs. His hands grip Martin’s hips.
“I suppose you’ve earned your reward,” Mikaele says, and pulls Martin down onto his cock.
Martin gasps, clutching Mikaele’s shoulders as he’s finally filled. His body sinks all the way onto Mikaele’s cock, filling him completely. For a moment, all he can do is lean against Mikaele’s chest, eyes closed as he revels in the feeling of fullness. Then he feels Peter against his back, his cock pressing against his arse, and he shivers. Peter presses into him slowly, stretching him open until he whines and bites down on Mikaele’s shoulder.
Mikaele chuckles. “Too much?”
“N-no,” Martin manages. He rocks his hips experimentally, moaning at the stretch of two cocks inside him. Two sets of hands grip him, Mikaele at his hips and Peter at his shoulders. Martin smirks. He’s not the only one affected by the situation.
“Why don’t you try moving, lovely boy?” Mikaele asks, tipping Martin’s chin up for a kiss. Martin rolls his hips, groaning into Mikaele’s mouth.
“Maybe I like it here,” he says, reaching down to stroke his cock lazily.
“So you want us to do the work?” Mikaele asks, raising a brow. “That can be arranged.”
Martin gasps as Mikaele lifts him, then pulls him back down onto their cocks. He can’t help grinding against Mikaele on the downstroke, overwhelmed by how much he feels.
“Such a good boy,” Mikaele murmurs, and Martin shivers. “Taking both of us like this. I can see why Peter likes you.”
“Martin has a number of exemplary qualities,” Peter says proudly. “He was quite a find.”
Martin’s cheeks grow hot, but he forgets his embarrassment as Mikaele lifts him again, slamming him onto their cocks. He repeats the motion before Martin has time to react, setting a brutal pace that has Martin clawing at his shoulders, moaning helplessly.
“He’s getting tight. I think he’s going to come for us.” Mikaele observes, without even pausing in his rhythm.
“Watch this,” Peter says, reaching between their bodies to rub Martin’s cock. Martin gasps, clenching down on both of them as he comes, gushing all over Mikaele.
“Very impressive,” Mikaele says, dipping his fingers in the mess and lifting them to his mouth. “I may need an assistant of my own.”
Peter and Mikaele don’t give Martin much time to recover before they lift him up again, manipulating his body like a toy to get off with. The overstimulation makes Martin shiver, but he doesn’t want to stop. Instead, he gives as good as he gets, meeting their thrusts and giving them the best show he can. The room is filled with the slick sounds of fucking, loud and filthy and perfect.
“I’m getting close, lovely boy,” Mikaele says. “Do you think you can come for me again?”
Martin nods, giddy with anticipation as Mikaele redoubles his efforts, his thrusts harder and less controlled as he approaches his peak. Peter works Martin’s cock in time with their movements, until Martin’s moaning and thrashing against them. He comes just before Mikaele, his orgasm crashing over him like a wave. Mikaele swears loudly as he pulls Martin onto his cock one last time. When he pulls out, Martin whimpers with both soreness and disappointment. He’s not ready to be empty again.
“Greedy thing,” Mikaele says fondly. “You’re not done with me, are you?”
“Not at all,” Martin replies.
“I suppose we can arrange something,” Mikaele says, sinking three fingers into Martin’s cunt. Martin moans gratefully.
“As you can see, he’s quite a handful,” Peter says.
Mikaele smirks. “More than a handful, I think.”
Martin’s about to argue when Mikaele’s thumb circles his cock, rubbing in time with Peter’s thrusts. All he can do is cling to Mikaele as they fuck him mercilessly.
“I should keep you,” Peter growls, gripping his hips with bruising force. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being mine, ready for me to use at any time?”
Martin moans helplessly as Peter’s hips stutter against his arse, and his cock twitches and fills Martin with come. Peter’s teeth scrape against his neck as he whispers, “Come on, I know you’ve got another in you,” and Mikaele’s fingers find just the right spot to make Martin come so hard he nearly blacks out.
Afterwards they lay him on the bed with his head pillowed on Mikaele’s chest. Peter lies a little off to the side, watching with possessive satisfaction.
“You know, if you have any other bargains to make, I am more than amenable,” Mikaele says, stroking Martin’s hip.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Martin says, amused.
“I’m never going to be able to buy anything from you again, am I?” Peter complains.
“Not with coin,” Mikaele says, laughing. “Not when your assistant is at hand.”
“You could also ask me to dinner,” Martin says, poking Mikaele in the ribs.
“With Peter lurking behind you like a jealous ghost.”
“You could buy Peter dinner, too.” Martin casts an appraising eye at his boss. “Maybe more than dinner. I’d love to watch you together.”
“I suppose that could be arranged,” Peter says.
Martin lays his head against Mikaele’s shoulder. He hasn’t felt so relaxed in years. For once, the Institute, the Extinction, and everything else wrong in his life feels far away. It won’t last forever, but he can enjoy it for now.
Perhaps he can talk Peter and Mikaele into another round in the morning.