Honeypot

I can track three enemies in combat, but I cannot track the three mouths claiming my body. Every time I have accounted for the tongues and teeth teasing me, a new sensation shakes my concentration and I have to start again.

Oren's the one marking a trail down my belly, pausing to nip along the crease of my hip. I'm sure of it, only because I could see his curls sink below my field of vision as... fuck. Fuck. What are their names?

I turn my head towards the man kissing my neck. He takes it as an invitation to graze his teeth across the hollow of my throat. Auburn hair. Shoulder. Andrei. I think? I start to lose my footing on the tile floor. Pressure building against my skin, it feels like he's trying to devour me.

A bright shock of heat radiates from my chest to the base of my brain. Steady, solid fingers have found a nipple and roll it deftly between them. The one who whistled, with his stocky build and obsidian hair. I hear him laugh at the sound he draws from me.

"You like that," he drawls. It's not a question. He already knows the answer.

"Be nice, Nev," Oren chides, nuzzling his face against the crease at my inner thigh. He's close enough that I can feel his breath against my aching cock. His trail of hungry kisses doubles back on itself. "He's basically still a virgin."

So much for being nice.

"Hey, I'm nice," Nev replies, his pinching turns to featherlight circles. Is not enough worse than too much? "You didn't get this kind of treatment last night, did you, Mickey?"

I want to snarl, "Don't--"

But my words are cut short by a twist of Nev's fingers. He seals his lips over mine, drinking in my groan. "Don't what?" he asks, taunting me with those too gentle strokes.

My hips jerk forward, seeking the contact that Oren keeps denying me. "Don't stop."

"You don't have to worry about that." Equal parts threat and promise. Oren's hand finds my chin, dragging his thumb across my lower lip. "You're cute like this."

Fury and fever burn in my cheeks. He's baiting me, he's fucking baiting me and I still try to bite him.

He's too fast.

Andrei lands an open palmed swat against my ass and I yelp.

They know my body better than I do and I think I hate them for that. "I thought you said you were gonna be nice."

That stupid smirk. "No, I told Nev to be nice," he says. "I plan on being very, very mean to you tonight."

Somewhere along the way, Oren lost his towel. His naked body isn't new to me, but now, he's just as hard and flushed as me. I can't tell if I want to touch him or touch myself, but between Andrei and Nev I'm trapped. A tangle of limbs pinning me between them and--

"Fff--!"

The heat of Oren's length sliding against mine almost takes me out at the knees. Every neuron in my body wants nothing more than to grind back against him but I have no leverage here. My muscles twitch beneath my skin, desperate for more. His cock pulses against me in response.

"I thought you might like that," he says. Each shift of his hips drags his shaft back and forth, long and slow and deliberately making me strain against the others' grip. Not enough is definitely worse. But in a small display of mercy, Oren wraps his hand around us both and I can't tell where I end and he begins.

A hand fists in my hair. My vision blurs and my jaw goes slack and I can't tell who takes the opening. A tongue plunders my mouth. The pressure of Oren's grip -- tight, relentless, perfect -- draws helpless moan after helpless moan from my throat. Breath hits my neck and hips grind against my thighs. They're both... fuck they're both getting off on keeping me helpless for Oren.

That tension and tightness surges in my core and I can feel the abyss beckoning me, drawing me in closer and closer and--

"Uh-uh," Oren tuts. "Not yet." He pulls his hand away, steps back, and all of it comes crashing down around me.

The howl that escapes me echoes against the tile walls. Trembling legs finally give out, but it's Andrei and Nev that keep me from collapsing completely. Slowly, they guide me down, sitting me under the spray of the shower. Warm water steadily pelts my back until I can feel something other than the denied aching in my cock.

Something dark burns in my cheeks as Oren sinks to his knees in front of me. Gentle fingers brush the damp hair back from my forehead. "You're doing such a good job."

He just keeps breaking me and I keep letting him.

"Now," Oren says, hand sliding down to stroke my thigh. "I really, really want Andrei to fuck me." His gaze flicks up at the redhead kneeling at my side. "I mean, who wouldn't? He's gorgeous."

In my peripheral vision, I can see the flushed tip of Andrei's cock bob near my shoulder.

"So, I need you to get him nice and wet for me."

Twenty-four hours ago I had never even touched myself. Now, I'm sitting on the bathroom floor, being asked to suck Andrei's dick so he can stick it in Oren's ass. I know what Oren is doing. Every word, every touch deliberately chosen, using the training I haven't gotten yet against me.

But, for the first time tonight, he's giving me an opening to do something.

And, apparently, I'm a natural at giving head.

The red-purple hue of Andrei's arousal reminds me of a bruise. I curl my fingers around the thick base of his cock and imagine what it would be like to squeeze. Could I make him whimper if I dug my nails in? My mouth invites him in, hot and wet, but I bear teeth, too. Would his knees buckle if I bit? What would his scream sound like?

He's trusting me with too much power.

Maybe another day.

A faint taste of soap lingers on his skin as his length slides against my tongue. He's long enough that if I angle my head just so, I can just swallow him into my throat.

"Oh, fuck," Andrei pants, scrabbling for my hair. I swat his hand away.

No.

I'm working him, now.

"That good?" Nev asks from wherever he's gone. I can't see Andrei's face from here, but I like to think I've robbed him of his words. I picture him biting his lip as he nods.

"Okay okay, enough," Oren says, voice catching. "Leave some for me."

It's only when Andrei steps back, that I can see Oren, bent over with Nev's fingers inside him as he strokes himself. Eyes dark, flushed cheeks, he's drunk on the sight of me with a dick in my mouth. My dick throbs at the thought.

It throbs again as Oren settles on all fours between my splayed legs. He raises his ass high in the air and gives a taunting little wriggle. Andrei counters with an open hand slap. The heat of his gasp caresses me.

How does that cock feel, I wonder, as Andrei sinks into Oren's ass. The slender tip that fills out at the base. The depths his length can reach. The slight downward curve of it. My jaw must have gone slack -- Nev is brushing his own cock against my lower lip.

A faint bead of fluid lingers on the head. "Let me feel you," he breathes.

"Ask nice."

I don't make him beg. Much. And I make him do the work.

All I want is to watch the way Oren bounces each time he takes Andrei to the hilt. He throws his head back, eyes screwed shut. Yes. Please. More. Harder. There. Right there. Don't stop. Oren isn't just getting fucked. He bucks and he writhes and he takes what he wants.

When he comes it won't just be a little oblivion to ease the pain.

He demands it.

His eyes snap open, wild and wide. He's watching me watch him. He's watching Nev fuck my face. And he sees something he desperately wants. What he wants is my dick.

Even with Andrei driving into his ass, even with Nev driving into my mouth, Oren swallows me down.

Hot.

Wet.

Oren. Mouth. Nev. Cock. Andrei. Grunt. Water. Heat. Hands. Breath.

I cannot track whose thrusts are whose. It all pours into me.

There's no room in me for thought anymore. There is just taste and smell and feel and want.

No, not want. Need.

I'm chasing the heat that Oren stole from me earlier and I'm taking it back. Oren moans into me desperate and frantic and he shatters. He breaks with me filling his mouth and Andrei filling his ass. Those desperate cries tell me Andrei won't last much longer either.

Nev's hand tightens in my hair and --

-- I know this feeling --

-- the final breath as you pull the trigger.

I fire.

The world around me goes brilliant, blazing white, and wave after wave, I empty myself down Oren's throat. And the idea of him swallowing each pulse of come blazes so hot that I nearly come again. When the haze finally breaks, I realize my tongue is salty and slick with Nev's release.

This time, when I collapse, I simply fall back against the tile. Water pouring down on my face.

I could happily drown here right now.

Someone must turn off the shower before I do. The spray cools and fades to a trickle until just a stray droplet or two falls onto the slick mess on the floor. I'm not sure how, but I find myself with my head resting on someone's thigh, their hand gently trailing through my hair. Another body leans against my leg, arm draped lazily over my lap. Someone else has their ankle lightly crossed with mine, ragged breathing loud in the aftermath.

Craning my neck, I see it's Oren I'm laying against. He's leaning back against the wall, eyes shut, almost peaceful. He sighs, murmurs. "That went better than I thought it would."

I don't know what one is supposed to say after group sex, but that doesn't seem right. He planned this whole thing. Hell, he was probably planting this seed the moment he jogged past me. Why would he worry about it going well?

Unless... maybe he didn't plan it. Or maybe he's done this before, but playing a different role. Maybe my role.

Maybe one day it'll be my turn to worry about this going well.

I don't want to ask him.

And I don't have to. The silence breaks as the door creaks open again. Impatient footfalls don't even pause at the mass of freshly fucked bodies on the floor.

I glance over to see the man from the library as he walks over to one of the toilet stalls and closes the door behind him.

Pointedly.

Nev and Andrei are already moving, untangling limbs, getting to their feet, and drying off. The door creaks again as they leave. Oren jerks his chin towards the door.

Time to go.

Dry now, towel around my waist, I follow Oren out into the hall and falter only for a moment when he turns away from bunks. Still, I follow. I follow him right to the kitchenette. He flicks on the light, fills up a kettle with water and gets it to boil.

"You want mint?" he asks, rummaging through a drawer full of tea bags.

I guess I take too long trying to figure out how to answer, because he just takes out two packets of mint tea and sets them on the counter. After a sidelong glance at the kettle, he goes for two mugs in the cupboard.

I fold, unfold, refold my arms. Lean against the wall, trying to figure out what to do with my body. Oren just swallowed my ejaculate and now he's making tea and I do not have a frame of reference for any of this.

The kettle isn't boiling yet.

"There's something seriously weird about that guy," Oren huffs.

"Who?" I know full well who.

He gestures an arm back towards the bathroom. "Jovan." Library Man has a name. "He's been on his graduation mission since well before I got here. Then, two weeks ago, boom. He's back sleeping in the candidate bunks."

"Two weeks ago..." I echo, buying time to try and make the scenario make sense in my brain. "So... he was on his graduation mission... but he didn't graduate?"

Oren's emphatic nods and wide eyes tell me he's been trying to make sense of this longer than I have and is still coming up with nothing. "Right? You'd think if he fucked up, if he really fucked up--"

Trailing off, his gaze flicks to the open doorway. We hold our breath. No footsteps.

It's not worth finishing the thought.

If Jovan really fucked up, he wouldn't be breathing.

No footsteps, but now the kettle is boiling.

Oren prepares the first cup of tea and pushes it at me. "Sometimes I get a sore throat afterward," he says, busying himself with fixing his own. "This helps with that. And the taste."

He's still tasting me.

I wrap both hands around the mug, focusing on the warmth seeping through the ceramic.

Afterward. He makes it sound like an ice pack on a sprain. I suppose it is harder to soothe the sore spots inside of you. Raising the mug to my lips, I let the steam fill me, and take a long, slow sip.

The water singes my tongue and I don't flinch. I let it warm me, even if that means burning.

"It does help with the taste," I agree. Watch him drink. Watch him watch me watching him. "Did you get the practice you needed?"

He doesn't flinch. "Yeah, I did." His brow furrows. He takes another sip. He meets my eyes. "Thanks."

Halfway through my tea, I pour the rest out in the sink and head back to the bunks.

Pulling on my nightclothes, I find myself grateful I don't dream.