#turnjones

It was Lindsay’s fault – all of it was. After years of the four of them hanging out – Michael and Lindsay, Gavin and Meg – she’d sat him down and forced him to talk about why he kept himself from looking at Meg when they were playing games together, or why he always made sure their bodies never touched if he sat next to her, or why he got quiet when she and Gavin kissed. He’d never expected the invitation for him to open things up, if Meg and Gavin were into it. Of course he hadn’t – what man was that fucking lucky? But here he was. Naked in bed with the second woman to claim his heart while Gavin and Lindsay were no doubt cuddled up together at another house across town. He felt the familiar surge of warmth and affection that he couldn’t show on camera – too off brand. But it was there. Goddamn, it was there, rich and thick like caramel, and he wanted nothing more than to drown in it. He felt the fondness first. And then he felt the boner. Well, fuck. Michael opened his eyes, his thumb rubbing absently over Meg’s skin and listening to her even breathing. Meg slept hard as dicks. He’d gotten out of bed once the first night they’d fallen asleep together and went to the bathroom to take care of his morning wood, and when she’d woken an hour later and tried to pull him back into bed, his absent admittance that he wasn’t gonna be getting hard for her for another hour or so had made her laugh. ”Why didn’t you just wake me?” she’d teased. Why hadn’t he? Several reasons. If Michael woke Lindsay before she was ready to, there was a possibility she’d poke him in the side and whine until he went away. He didn’t want to assume Meg was…okay with him waking her up with sex. The last thing he ever wanted Meg to think was that Michael was only with her because she was a great fuck. Which, she was. She was incredible in bed, and they fit together in ways he’d never imagined possible. But she was also sweet and kind-hearted and passionate and brilliant, and he wanted her for all those reasons, not just her body. She’d made him a deal, after that: if she wasn’t wearing panties when she went to sleep, it meant she was comfortable with being woken up with sex. Panties on? No dice. She made Michael make the same commitment, and it felt weird as fuck, sleeping without bottoms, but it was worth it to have woken up once to her grinning lips around his cock as her eyes sparkled in amusement. He was pantsless. She was pantsless. An experimental rock of his hips dragged his cock over the small of her back, and he shivered, goosebumps exploding on his skin as he buried his face in the back of her neck. And she slept on, snoring very quietly. Like most decisions in Michael’s life, he made this one with a solitary thought: Fuck it. He mouthed at her skin as he reached down and teased at his cock, slowly tugging it to full hardness. She didn’t stir. There was something…exciting, somehow, about touching her like this, feeling how her skin grew warm beneath his lips. What was she dreaming about? Did she feel him? Was he on her mind right now? He curiously dragged the tip of her cock through her folds, and the shock of heat and wetness that greeted him dragged a shaky breath from his lips. She was on the pill, she’d told him. Michael was fluid bonded to Lindsay, Meg was fluid bonded to Gavin, and it only made sense that the two pairs would overlap now that they were all starting to mess around with each other. They had recent testing results, and all four of them had sat together and compared them. Still, he actually apologized the first time he came inside of Meg, even as she begged for it, and she laughed at him, pulling him down for kiss after kiss until he was dizzy in his afterglow. He still hesitated. Lingered close, his cock slick with her arousal, his teeth grazing over her spine. Felt how she let out a quiet sound, even as her breathing stayed smooth. Fuck. It. He pushed inside of her slowly with a stifled moan, eyelashes fluttering. They fit together so fucking well. It seemed impossible that someone could light him on fire like Lindsay did with even one look, but she did. It wasn’t the same; it was different – like touching burning logs rather than feeling the warmth of a bath. But he wouldn’t change either of them. He wanted to know more. Wanted to know when the lingering glances between Meg and Lindsay would bubble over. Wanted to know when Gavin would stop being the first one to break his stares with Michael when they had a little too much to drink. He wanted to know when everything was going to burst – but right here, right now, he could be content. It wasn’t worth chasing something it wasn’t time for if he could enjoy the present. His hips pressed against her ass, and he lingered, listening, feeling how Meg shifted slightly in the sheets. Michael’s hand grazed along her stomach, over her ribs, until he cupped one of her breasts and thumbed over her nipple. A soft gasp. The slow push toward wakefulness. His muscles were so tightly clenched, like he was about to burst off the front line of a marathon, and Michael let his thoughts brush over last night – how Meg had teased him and giggled when he’d turned red all over from holding himself back. She was always such a cute little shit, but it drove him crazy with how badly he wanted her every time she gave him a knowing look – the one that said she knew just how easy it was for her to win over him every time they played around. It sounded like it was time for him to get the edge over her for once, then. Michael pressed one more soft, loving kiss to the back of Meg’s neck as he slowly pulled out of her to the very tip – and then he snapped his hips. “Ah!” Meg woke fully with a gasp, rocking forward, but before she could even turn her head Michael crushed her body back against his, holding her steady as he fucked into her. “Michael!” “Morning,” he grunted through gritted teeth. He nipped her shoulder, and she whined, curling one leg around his as she reached for his arm. “Fuck, fuck!” Meg’s words, slurred with sleep, bubbled into a laugh. The nails digging into his tattooed forearm added a pleasant sharpness to the shock of sensation rolling through him – like the edge on an expensive whiskey – and Michael couldn’t help but chuckle too. “Y-you miss me that much?” “You’re the one practically – shit – dripping all over the goddamn bed before I even touched you.” His words came out thick and breathy – even like this, she still affected him too strongly, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be pissed about it. Michael on camera was a tough guy, always posturing and teasing his wife and needing to be on top. Michael at home was a big fucking sap, and he’d accepted it long ago. Life was too short to be an asshole all the time. He already didn’t deserve what he got. Meg squeaked at a particularly rough thrust, throwing her head back, her hair tickling his face. “Unh, Michael!” He slowed until he barely teased his hips against her. The way his voice dropped nearly to a purr surprised even himself. “You want me to stop?” “No, don’t you fucking stop, you asshole!” Meg bucked backward until his hipbones dug into her ass. “Fuck you! C’mon!” She slammed a fist into the mattress and he laughed again. “Michael, I’m gonna roll you over and ride you until you cry if you stop!” “Nah.” He pushed her, putting her on her stomach, and Meg squealed, muffled by the pillow, as he sat up and grabbed the thick swell of her ass until his fingers pillowed into it hard enough to leave bruises. He found his pace again, their skin slapping together as Meg’s shouted words blurred into mumbled sounds. “Can’t hear you, baby.” “Ugh!” She arched just enough to lift her head and chest both, and Michael was like a moth drawn to the flame, leaning down just enough until he could cup one of her breasts and give it a squeeze. “So fucking good, Michael, don’t fucking stop-” “You and your filthy mouth.” But even he could hear the tightness of his tone – how hard it was to pretend his whole body wasn’t awash in flame from how she clenched around him. Those fucking kegels. She was a monster. Even like this, she was still in control. “God, Meg, you feel so good...” “Do it. Fucking do it.” Meg whipped her head around, and the second their eyes made contact Michael dug his teeth into his bottom lip until it almost bled, rhythm staggering at the sight of her thick pupils and flushed cheeks. “If you don’t come inside me, I’m never blowing you again.” The threat almost made him laugh – as if Meg hadn’t whined once as she pulled his zipper down with her teeth while her arms were tied behind her back, so desperate to get his cock in her mouth that she would’ve kicked a holy nun’s ass for it – but he was too far gone. All he could do was drink her in from head to hip, feeling the rush of heat through him and the sparks of pleasure already kissing the base of his spine. “Fuck, I’m gonna come-” “Do it!” She squeezed around his cock one more time, letting out a sharp moan, and Michael slammed his hips against hers, letting go and filling her up, groaning, until he collapsed on top of her. As he came back to himself, the self-satisfied sounds of Meg drawing him back as she wiggled under him, Michael rolled onto his side again. “Don’t look so fucking pleased,” he drawled over her giggles. “I didn’t even make you come.” “Yet.” She peeked through her hair at him, batting her eyelashes. “You’re gonna eat me out once you’ve caught your breath.” Michael’s eyebrows went into his hairline. “That...is fucking disgusting.” Eating his own come out of her? Really? She wiggled her eyebrows in response. “Yeah, but you’ll do it for me, won’t you?” He opened his mouth, closed it again, then rolled onto his back as he lazily threw his arm over his head. He wasn’t going to answer that. “Michael~” Meg’s sing-song tone mocked him as she slid a hand over his abs, drawing dizzying patterns with her fingers. “Sweetie~” Okay. So he would do it for her. But he sure as hell wasn’t gonna fucking say it.