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Hello friends, this story is somewhat experimental, and contains M/M sex, M/F sex, femdom, light bondage and dominance and submission. I wasn’t sure where to place it, but since it continues the relationship between Stan, Darren and Connor, I’ve kept it in GM; but in recognition of taking this turn, changed the title. Let me know if this storyline is one you’d want to see more of. Otherwise, I’ll keep it as an experiment.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Connor props himself up on one elbow and pinches one of Stan’s nipples, making the other boy’s eyes start open.
“Are you gay?”
Stan’s eyes grow wide, his breathing harsh, as his younger lover, Darren, sucks him closer to climax. His legs are bent, his thighs taut, his hips thrusting up into the younger boy’s mouth.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck!”
Connor calmly pinches Stan’s other nipple, hard, and Stan grips Darren’s hair and lets out an ‘ungh’ of pleasure, his face distorted into cum-sweet-agony as he unleashes into Darren’s mouth.
For long moments there’s the sound of Stan moaning and Darren gulping, Stan’s head thrown back as Darren milks him dry.
Then he falls back onto the pillow and lets out a sigh.
“Stan?” says Connor, returning his long fingers to pinch Stan’s other nipple. “I asked you a question.”
Frustrated, Stan slaps his hand away. “Fuck’s sake!”
Darren appears on all fours, holding himself over Stan. “How was that?”
Connor sits up enough to pat Darren’s arse. “Very nice. Go clean up, I need to talk to Stan.”
There’s a flicker in Darren’s eyes that says he’s hurt at being dismissed, but he clambers off the bed and disappears into the bathroom.
Stan gives Connor a long, slow look. “What are you on about?”
Connor’s fingers are back, sliding across Stan’s sweat-defined muscular chest. Avoiding his nipples this time.
“I said, are you gay? I know you made your way through half the women on campus before we met—”
“Before you tied me down and fucked me,” Stan bluntly corrects him, putting his hand over Connor’s, pressing it flat before the other boy finds new ways to torture him, in his post-cum sensitivity.
“And after,” Connor says, his tone measured. “In front of me.”
Stan’s never thought of it that way. The girl he brought back to his room, the cute microbiologist, their shared secrets in the grey early morning.
“That was then. Now, I have two boyfriends, who frankly suck and fuck every drop of cum out of me at every opportunity, and there’s very little left to go around.”
“Not what I asked.” Connor’s indigo ink-dark eyes hold Stan’s hazel gaze. “Are you gay?”
Stan rests his arm against his forehead as he thinks on this, his other hand still pressing Connor’s flat to his chest.
The fact is, he knows damn well he’s not. He looks at women, fantasizes about them, dreams about them. But Stan’s in his heart a loyal guy, and the moment Connor accepted his proposal to formalise their relationship, he stopped pursuing women altogether.
But he still looks. And he still dreams. And on the rare occasion both of his boyfriends give him an hour’s peace, he masturbates.
He glances sideways at Connor. “I don’t cheat.”
Connor examines his face. “I know. Answer the damn question.” His voice loads with command, and for a moment Stan remembers Connor’s ultimately his dominant, by nature, by choice.
“No,” he said. He squeezes Connor’s hand. “I’m not gay. But I am happy.”
Connor tugs his hand free and pushes himself upright. He invites Stan to straddle his lap as he leans back against the headboard.
“If you’re safe, I want you to know that you can. Sleep with women,” he clarifies.
Stan feels Connor’s previously flaccid member stirring against his crack, and reaches back to stroke.
“Does the thought of that turn you on?” he asks.
Connor puts his arms behind his head. “You turn me on. But if you’re bi—” he shrugs.
Stan frowns, but keeps stroking. “Being bi doesn’t mean you want to fuck everything that moves. I have two boyfriends. That’s two more than most of my friends.”
Connor laughs, knowing Stan’s friends are predominantly straight men.
“Besides, I’m not sure I’m even bi,” Stan goes on. “I don’t think about fucking men.”
Connor raises an eyebrow, and Stanton corrects himself. “Except for you and Darren.”
Connor extends one arm from behind his head and teases the hair at Stan’s temple. “You’re a soft thing, aren’t you? Have you ever fucked anyone you haven’t pined for afterwards?”
Stan colours. Connor has an unpleasant way of locating his vulnerabilities, sticking his finger in there and pressing hard.
“Here’s the thing,” Connor goes on. “I’m gay, and so’s Darren. But I’m just not sure about you.”
“Why do you care?” asks Stan. “I don’t cheat.”
Connor shakes his head and there’s affection in his smile. He glances sideways, and Stan follows his gaze and notices Darren standing in the bathroom doorway.
Connor gestures expansively casino siteleri and puts on a theatrical voice. “All who would win joy, must share it; happiness was born a twin.”
Stan frowns. “What are you on about?”
Connor smiles. “Daren and I would like you to go forth and make sure you embrace all parts of your sexuality.”
Stan glances sideways at Darren. “Is that true?”
Darren comes to stand beside the bed, and Connor reaches out and takes the boy’s hand.
“Tell Stan how much you want him to go find himself a nice girl to fuck.”
Darren glances at Connor, then drops his gaze. “You can do what you want,” he says to Stan. “I don’t mind.”
Stan grabs Darren’s free wrist and pulls him close. “Are you just saying that because Connor wants you to?”
Darren looks up. His blue eyes under his flop of brown hair are sincere. “No. Like he says, I’m gay. I’ve known I was gay since I was seven. But I’ve seen the way you look at girls.”
Stan rolls his eyes. “Do either of you get the concept of being in a monogamous relationship?”
Connor gives him a look. “Monogamous?”
“I don’t need anyone else,” says Stan.
“Well,” says Connor. “We don’t mind. As long as you’re careful.”
“And don’t fall in love,” Darren blurts out. His face instantly goes beet red.
Stan shakes his head. “It’s not going to happen. So this is the last time we have this conversation, yeah?” He gives them both a hard look. “Yeah?”
Darren nods quickly, and Connor lets go of the younger boy’s hand and puts his arm back behind his head.
“Don’t make him that promise, Stanton. We’ve said our piece. Now get out there and live the dream.”
“I’m not a cheat, Connor.”
“I know you’re not. But go fuck a woman for me, would you?”
Disgusted, Stan shakes his head. He gets off the bed and heads for the bathroom. When he comes back out, Darren’s crouched between Connor’s legs, his gaze fixed to his older lover’s as he pleasures him.
Stan pulls on clothes and leaves the dorm room.
It’s Friday, and he only has one lecture, one group project session in the afternoon. He gets back to his room and finds it empty. Remembers Connor has his dress rehearsal tonight for the show tomorrow. He texts Darren, ‘Plans tonight?’
It takes ten seconds to get a reply. ‘Connor asked me to be at his dress rehearsal.’
Stan texts Connor. ‘Do you want me there?’
No response. He tosses his phone on the bed and sets about getting changed. If there’s no answer from Connor, there’s a party he’s been invited to, and he’s in the mood to go.
He shaves, fixes his hair in the mirror and dabs on cologne. He throws on a shirt over jeans, pulls a brown leather biker jacket over the top. Shoves a wallet in his back pocket, and then checks his phone.
He texts Darren. ‘Should I be there?’
No response. He realises Darren’s phone must be on mute, or off, so that he doesn’t interrupt the rehearsal. If he’d seen the text, his boyfriend would have answered in seconds. He always does.
Well, he’s not waiting all night. It’s Connor’s rehearsal, and Connor doesn’t want him there. And Stan has another place to be.
This party’s off campus, a house party. The invitation’s come from a girl he’s met around campus, Isabelle. She’s blonde, athletic, attractive, smart. His type. He’s seen her checking him out more than once, and he might have been interested. But he was already getting fucked daily by Connor by the time he noticed her looking his way.
He shakes his head. He has two boyfriends. Connor’s not getting his way on this one.
He walks up the steps to the house and heads inside.
“Stanton!” A voice from across the room from a rowdy group of students collected on a couch.
Stan heads towards his friends, and then something catches his eye. A movement. He can’t say why he stops. The house is full of people coming and going, but still, he stalls, as a girl appears on the stairs at the top of the bend.
She’s tall for a girl, slim and androgynous, with a shag of short, straight, dark hair. She’s dressed in a violet purple shirt, black leather pants that mould to her legs, and her hands are pushed into the pockets of a buttoned up black woollen coat that hits her thighs. Her boots are low-heeled—she doesn’t need the height—and reach mid-calf.
She’s still as a cat, her gaze sweeping the crowd. Then she catches sight of Stan staring up at her, and a small smile lifts the corner of her mouth. There’s an intensity in her eyes that stirs him, but he’s not sure why. She reminds him of someone, but he’s not sure who. He’s seen her before, but he’s not sure where.
She starts to descend again, and Stan finds himself walking towards the base of the stairs without realising his feet are moving. She stops a step above him.
“What do we have here?” Her voice is a self-satisfied drawl.
“I’m Stanton,” he says.
“Shae,” she replies. She steps off the final stair so they’re only inches from slot oyna each other. She’s nearly Stan’s height, and her eyes linger on his mouth before moving back to his eyes. He can’t see what colour her eyes are, but they look almost black in this light.
He’s mesmerised, but confused. She’s not his type. Her breasts barely push at her woollen coat, and Stan’s always been a breast man. Nicely shaped breasts and a pretty face. Long hair, preferably blonde, never straight. This girl has short hair. Short, sleek, dark hair, and a lot of it. Glossy dark hair. He can imagine the feel of it between his fingers.
“Do you go to Bristol University?” he asks.
She shakes her head slowly, but offers nothing else.
He has an urge to touch her, and pushes his hands into his pockets instead.
“So, Stanton.” Her wide eyes are unblinking, her eyelashes long and dark. Her lips are painted a matt violet, several shades lighter than her shirt. “Are you here on your own?”
He nods his head, then corrects himself. “My friends are… over there.” He twists and point with a thumb over his shoulder, wonders what his friends are thinking right now as he chats up this enigmatic girl. If that’s what he’s doing.
“You smoke, Stanton?” She pulls a packet from her pocket.
He shakes his head.
“What excuse would work best to get you to come outside with me?”
A grin splits Stan’s face wide. “Just ask.”
They hit the back yard, Shae stepping down to the back garden first. She reaches the bottom of the steps and spins around, walks backwards, facing Stan.
“So, Stanton, who came here alone; do you have a girlfriend?”
She stops moving, and Stan comes to a halt in front of her. Does he have a girlfriend. He suddenly remembers his angry assurance to Darren and Connor that he doesn’t need women.
“What?” she asks. “Are you not sure?”
Stan sighs. He’s a man of his word, and that word is fidelity, even if it’s just to prove Connor wrong.
Shae steps in, covers that last inch between them. She takes her hands from her pockets and places her palms either side of Stan’s head. “I want to kiss you.”
Stan’s mouth drops open as if his jaw’s unhinged, leaving his lips softly parted. He’s never met a girl like this before.
Shae smiles. “I’m not going to, unless you say yes.”
Stan wants to say yes. Knows he should say no. That the conversation he should have first is too complicated to be had right now, in this instant—
“Yes,” he says.
Shae kisses him. His hands rise to her waist, and he finds she has one under the square cut of her clothes, her body firm under his hands.
Her lips as she kisses him are so soft, he could kiss her all night. Her mouth tastes of rainwater, and her skin has a soft scent he can’t describe. Hadn’t realised he missed.
Her hands drop to his shoulders as they explore each other’s mouths, and then she tilts her head and leans in to kiss his neck, kissing a line up to his earlobe.
“Who are you?” he asks, kissing her hair, her forehead, her cheek, whichever part of her’s near her mouth, as she teases him with soft, insistent kisses.
“Your new girlfriend.”
Stan’s dorm room will be empty at least until midnight, and it’s only nine now. He unlocks the door with Shae in tow, and lets them inside. He switches on a bedside lamp and turns back to find she’s slid off her coat. She hangs it over Connor’s computer chair and walks around his room, taking it in.
“Who keeps this place tidy?” she asks.
“Me,” says Stan. “Not that Connor makes much of a mess.” He sits on his bed and leans back on his elbows. “You want to watch a movie?”
He has to ask. It’s not polite to assume.
She steps up to him and he moves his legs apart so she can stand between them.
“Do you want to watch a movie?”
He looks up at her. “I’m easy.”
She moves in and pushes him back onto the bed, crawling on top of him. “Well, we know that.”
She lowers her head to kiss him, and he slides his hands up under her shirt, finding soft, smooth skin, and the gentle curve of her hips, running his hands up, up, and finding breasts that fit his palms, trapped under a layer of satin.
She breaks the kiss as he strokes her breasts, running his thumbs into the cups of her bra to tease her nipples.
“I’ve got a confession to make,” she says, her hair falling over her eyes. In the light from the lamp, Stan thinks her eyes might be dark blue, but it’s hard to tell. “You know my brother.”
She runs a finger down his chest, sliding a fingertip between the buttons of his shirt.
“You know him very, very well.”
Cold freezes Stan’s internal organs, and his half-hard erection withers. He pushes her gently off him and she’s on her feet again, takes a step back with a smile he knows only too well.
“Connor has a sister?” He chokes on the words.
She watches him calmly. “You’re not the fastest on the uptake, are you, Stan?”
“What the hell is this?”
He gets to his feet, canlı casino siteleri feeling tricked and trapped, and skirts around her. He spins back to her.
“Did he set this up?”
Thinking, of course he did. There’s no such thing as coincidence when it comes to Connor.
Shae gives him a long look, and her eyes are the same colour as her brother’s, her hair the same thick darkness, but straighter. Perhaps she straightens it. She has her brother’s straight nose, his full lips; but where Connor’s cheekbones are hard, the angles of his face brutal, Shae’s cheekbones are high and rouged by the cold, her jaw line running down to the soft point of her chin.
“He told me about you, Stan. Said you’re very handsome,” she smiles, “And very sweet. And that you might be missing female company.”
Stan shrugs angrily, paces the room. “So I’m some kind of charity fuck?”
Shae steps in front of him and puts a hand against his chest. “Oh no. No. Do I look like someone who fucks for charity?”
Stan swallows hard. No, she looks like Connor’s sister.
She runs her hand down his chest, her fingers light against the fabric of his shirt, then drops her hand to her side again.
“He told me you have a… submissive streak. I happen to like that in a man.”
Stan gives her a look of incredulity. “Connor should keep his mouth shut.”
Shae gives him an amused look. “Would you say that to his face?”
The anger rising in Stan falls away again just as sharply.
Shae steps in closer. “Ask me to leave, Stan. Or… well. You know how it goes.”
He swallows. Her scent’s in his nostrils, her magnetism vibrating like her brother’s but softer, like her features, a live current waiting for him to throw the switch.
“Well?” she says. Her smile mirrors her brother’s. A smile a cat would give a bird trapped under its paw, a bird too weak to struggle any longer.
Stan can’t believe he’s doing this. But he’s doing this.
“Red?” he asks, and his pulse stamps a tango against the side of his throat.
She nods. “If that’s what you’re used to.”
Fear squeezes Stan’s gut, but he’s never felt so alive. As with the first moment he confessed his fantasy of being fucked by a man to his roommate, he senses he’s about to rip open the seal on another part of himself.
Shae takes hold of the lapels of Stan’s jacket and pulls him against her, and he puts his hands against the slight flare of her waist and kisses her.
Her lips whisper against his.
“In a minute, you’re going to strip for me. Then I’m going to do things to your body that please me. From what I’ve heard, they’ll please you too. At any point, you can use ‘red’.” Her tone grows harder. “Do not get physical with me. You’ve got twenty kilos on me, and I don’t want to get hurt. You use ‘red’. Understand?”
Stan, his hands still on her waist, breathes, “What are you going to do to me?”
Her gaze is unwavering. “Stay green and find out.”
She gives him a few moments to be sure it’s what he wants, then steps back.
“Strip.” Her voice is hard. There’s a dark glitter in her eyes that Stanton knows all too well, and for a moment he sees Connor standing in front of him. Lighter, inches shorter, but she holds herself the same way. Her feet are set a shoulder-width apart, her arms loose at her sides, her fingers pressed against her thighs.
He pulls off his jacket and hangs it up, then unbuttons his shirt while she waits. Her eyes are hungry as he sheds his shirt and drops it onto his chair. He puts his hands to his belt, slides it out and coils it, drops it on the chair.
Shae’s eyes run over his chest, dropping to the bulge in his jeans as he undoes his fly and pushes down his jeans and briefs to reveal himself.
“Good boy,” she says, and the tip of her tongue wets her upper lip.
Stan kicks his jeans away and stands there, waiting for her reaction to what she sees.
“Things you need to know. There are things I won’t do. I won’t cut you down, Stan, and I’m not going to hurt you. But you’re mine tonight. You understand?”
Shae walks around him, trailing a finger over his hard stomach, then from his left shoulder to his wrist, her touch raising the hair on both his arms. She traces the bunch of muscle at his waist, then draws a line with her fingertip across his lower back, making his shoulders roll back, raising the hair on the back of his neck.
She stops behind him and spreads her fingers, running both hands down his back, following down to the curves of his buttocks.
Then her fingers trail against him again, running down his right arm to his wrist, where she pauses and takes his hand. She kisses his bicep and gives him a dark smile, but Stan knows better than to respond. His gaze slides back to fix in front of him.
He can see her grin grow, out of the corner of his eye.
“He’s got you well, trained.”
She lets go of his hand, and comes to stand in front of him, running the back of her knuckles down the centre of his chest, down, down to wrap fingers around him. Stan’s leg jerks, an involuntary twitch at the heat of her hand.
“Are you going to be good for me, Stanton?”
“Yes,” he breathes. “Tell me what you want.”
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