Jesse part ten and three-quarters

[maculategiraffe]

Okay, two different people recently commented on Jesse part ten and a bit to complain that we didn't get to see what happened next, plus morgan_cian is apparently feeling the dearth of boyporn on her friends list at present, so here is everybody's PWP supplement for the day.



Holden laid Bran down on the wide bed in the master bedroom, and Bran clung to him, breathing hard, begging wordlessly not to be let go. Holden's solid warmth stayed with him, lying down next to him, pressing up against him, and Bran whimpered as the bed creaked on his other side and he burrowed more deeply into his master's arms, burying his hot face against the warm neck. The nakedness his master had commanded felt electrically charged, and the sudden hand on his back-- not his master's-- made him jump violently.

"Relax, sweetheart," Holden said softly.

"Yes," Bran whispered, as the hand slid up to his shoulder and tugged gently, while another hand slid down to his hip and cupped it, pulling less gently, "master--"

Holden's hand joined the others that were pulling him over on his back, and Bran had no choice but to cooperate, lying naked and exposed to the hands that rubbed greedily over his chest, his stomach, his belly, his thighs. Someone's firm fingers wrapped around his hard cock, and he moaned, trembling, trying to focus on faces, eyes; he tried to speak through dry lips and then licked them, not knowing how to ask what he wanted, or from whom.

"Fuck," Yves groaned, and Bran focused briefly on hungry blue eyes, on fingers-- he didn't know whose-- twisting at his nipple so hard he cried out, his cock already dripping over the firm fingers that grasped it. "Look at him. Dibs on his mouth."

"Only if he can use it while I'm riding him," said Jer, and a hard cock pressed into the flesh of Bran's thigh, next to his own agonizingly hard cock.

"Oh, he can," said Yves enthusiastically. "Bonus points if you can make him scream around my cock. I fucking love it when he does that."

"Wait a second," said Holden, and Bran stilled, not sure who he was talking to, but then the hands were gone from Bran's body and Holden was saying in his ear, "You okay, kiddo?"

"Yes, master," Bran managed, still trembling. "May I-- may I--"

Holden stroked the hair back from his face, looking into his eyes.

"You may make as much noise as you like," he said. "You may orgasm when you're ready. You may move around--" he smiled-- "as much as you can. If you need us to stop, say so."

Bran smiled back, breathing easier, and whispered, "Thank you, master."

Holden leaned down and kissed him on the lips, deeply, probing with his tongue, sucking on Bran's lips and nipping at them with his teeth, until Bran thought he was going to come without a single touch to his cock, and he was ready this time as the other men's hands slid across his skin, grasping, greedy, wanting more. Wanting him.

Bran kissed his master back frantically as someone else's mouth latched onto his nipple and bit down, making Bran groan into Holden's mouth and writhe into the hand that had wrapped itself around his cock again, and he was damn close to coming with the pain and the pleasure and then Holden's mouth pulled away, making Bran whimper in protest until the mouth was at his ear, sucking his earlobe into his mouth and biting down and then whispering, breath hot in Bran's ear, "So fucking beautiful," and Bran sobbed and arched and came into someone's fist.

"That's two," said Yves, from the vicinity of Bran's chest. "Should we keep a tally? How about--" Teeth on Bran's collarbone nipped sharply once, then moved over and nipped again. "Just for the record."

"You wanted marks," said Holden in Bran's ear. "What do you say?"

"Thank you!" Bran cried. "Thank you, sir-- Yves--"

Yves' mouth was on his neck, sucking, and then it was at his other ear, so the hands prying his legs further apart and the mouth lapping at-- oh fuck-- at his cum-messy cock, and then sucking the still-limp head between hot hungry lips--

"I never know whether your mouth is better at getting me hard when I fuck it or when I let you talk," Yves said in his ear. "Want to experiment?"

"Yes," Bran gasped. "Please-- please fuck my mouth, please let me suck you, let me please you, Yves, please--"

"Making a good case for the talking, there," said Yves, grinding slowly against Bran's hip as Holden nibbled gently around the shell of Bran's other ear, one hand in his hair, the other toying with his nipple, and Bran's cock began hardening again in Jer's practiced mouth. "Keep going."

"Please--" Bran caught his breath. "Take me-- fuck me-- use me--"

He broke off, losing his breath again as the mouth on his cock dragged itself, lingeringly, sucking hard, up the length of his half-erect shaft and away, and hands dug into his thighs, and Jer said hoarsely, "If he won't, I fucking will."

"Please--" Bran was begging Jer now, reaching for him as best he could, pinioned as he was on either side by Yves and his master. "Need you-- Jer, sir, please-- fuck me, fuck me hard--"

"Poor little slut," said Jer, hands on Bran's shoulders now, straddling his groin. "Cock-starved half to death. Yves, toss me the lube."

"For your mission of mercy?" said Yves, one hand tightening on Bran's bicep with don't-go-anywhere firmness as he leaned away; Bran heard the drawer open and felt his cock jump at the very sound as a strong, warm arm-- his master's, oh gods-- came across his chest and hugged him closer, as his master's voice spoke in his ear, managing to distract him even from Jer's preparations, Jer's slick and eager fingers, and Yves' oiled hand wrapping around his cock, his master's voice saying, "Bran, whose boy are you?"

"Yours, master!" Bran almost shouted it, strangled with pleasure and need as Jer's fingers slid deeper into him, pushing his hips back hard against the warmth filling him and the fingers jerking slowly at his reviving erection. "Your boy-- your slut-- your slave, master--"

"That's right," Holden whispered. "And when I let my other slaves bite you and bruise you and fuck you and use you, whose marks will you have in the morning?"

Bran dragged in a ragged breath as Jer's cock pressed at his ass and slid, slowly, with a gorgeous hot burn, inside. "Yours, master-- and--"

"Mine," Holden growled, an animal snarl just frightening enough to bring Bran even closer to the edge as Jer's long thrusts picked up speed, Yves yanked harder at Bran's cock, and Holden's nails dug painfully into his arm. "My Bran."

Tears spilled from Bran's eyes; he couldn't get breath to say it, but his lips formed the word "Master's" before Holden's mouth descended again, almost punishingly, on his, a hand fisted in his hair, Jer speeded up, pounding again and again against the spot of pure pleasure inside Bran, and bruise-shaped bursts of red and black exploded in front of his half-closed eyes.

"Don't pass out on us now," said Yves in his other ear as the fist on his cock tightened. "We've got the whole night ahead of us. And a few more tallies to-- um-- chalk up."

Bran screamed into Holden's mouth as he came yet again into Yves' fist, and Jer cried, "Fuck!" as he came, too, pumping hard into Bran's spasming ass, and Yves bent his head and bit down again on Bran's collarbone, and Bran was shaking too hard and he couldn't breathe and everything was starting to go dark as Holden's mouth was gone from his-- and Holden said, again, "Wait."

He was gathering Bran in close, his hands the only hands on Bran, his body pressed close for Bran alone, his arms clasping Bran close and warm and safe, his voice commanding gently, "Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe deep."

Bran breathed in long shuddering sips of air, his arms too weak to cling to his master, burrowing feebly against him with his forehead instead.

"Good boy," said Holden softly. "Such a good boy. Just relax. Do you need to stop?"

"No, master," Bran murmured faintly. "Just-- just rest a minute, please-- then-- clean Jer-- suck Yves-- take everybody's cock--"

"I think I just passed out, and am having some kind of oxygen-deprived hallucination," said Yves. "Where did you come from, kid, my wildest dreams?"

"Master's," Bran whispered, and grinned weakly as Holden's arms tightened around him, "master's dreams."