This got cut from the book for pacing reasons. (What are pacing reasons? Well, it means the scene is fine but it made the episode feel too slow). It’s from Jack and Channon’s visit to Victor’s ranch, and comes right after the scene where Jack watches Channon and Victor dance.
WARNING! It’s super not safe for work 😀 do not read in public!
Scene deleted from Top to Bottom (His Boy Next Door #38)
The best part about topping, Channon had decided, was how much the person you were topping got into it.
For example: topping Ewan was like riding a wild animal—he clawed and bit and squirmed like he was fighting, though he always seemed to be fighting to get more dick in him. “Fuck me harder,” he’d growl, digging his nails in. “Come on, give it to me!” So Channon would brace himself and give it as hard as he could until Ewan yowled and cursed and came all over himself.
Victor was nothing like that. He was cautious, controlled, and then he seemed to give way, letting Channon in and opening himself up to it all with a kind of hopeful wonder. He closed his eyes and turned his head aside, even as his hands gathered Channon’s hips in, as he rocked up to meet him, groaning with the pleasure of it. Channon was careful with Victor because Victor deserved care. He wasn’t delicate—not solid, masculine Victor—but he was still in some way vulnerable. Channon liked that Victor let him see that vulnerability, let him touch it and tease it until he dissolved.
This time he fucked Victor in Victor’s own bed. They wound up on their sides, Channon’s chest against Victor’s back, Victor’s thigh hooked over his arm.
“Yeah?” Channon asked and Victor nodded, biting his lip and turning his cheek against the covers. Channon kissed his throat and fucked him slowly, watching Jack watching them from across the room. Jack had his pants open, stroking himself. His eyes were dark and fervent. Channon felt those eyes on him like a caress, like a hand around his throat.
You belong to me, they said.
Channon pressed his mouth to Victor’s shoulder, trying to answer Jack’s look with, Yes, Sir, I know.
Even now, he was Jack’s. He could never forget that, felt like it was seared into him, like Jack had branded him, ‘Property of Jack Nash’. The hand Channon had on Victor’s cock was Jack’s, his mouth was Jack’s, his body belonged entirely to Jack. And if Jack was using it right now to fuck Victor, that didn’t change anything.
Still, Channon liked Victor. He liked Victor’s mouth, his skin, the soft curls of his chest hair, his powerful body. The smell of him, salty and rich, and how he felt clasped around Channon’s cock. How hot he was inside. The sound of his breath stuttering in his throat. The clench of him as he went over the edge, and the hot wash of his come on Channon’s fingers.
Channon held him as he shuddered and gasped, his body going lax. Jack said, “Don’t come, sweetheart,” and Channon clenched his teeth, holding himself very still because this was almost impossible.
Except, if Jack told him not to, he couldn’t. That was the rule. He lent his brow on Victor’s shoulder and took a deep breath, trying to find his center. Victor turned his head, kissed Channon’s hair, and Channon came up to meet him. It’s okay, he thought. I can do this. Just calm the fuck down.
Slowly, they disentangled. Channon pulled out. Victor opened the cabinet beside his bed to reveal a trash receptacle; Channon threw the empty condom in it.
And then he looked up, still hard, naked, dripping sweat. He felt on the edge of something, the disappointed agony of not coming, the sharp joy of doing what Jack wanted. Jack crossed the room, shirtless and barefoot, his trousers open, his cock jutting out of them dark and heavy. Channon licked his lips, sure he knew what was coming.
“Victor,” Jack said, not taking his eyes from Channon. “Would you like to suck Channon off?”
Victor made a guttural sound and then, “Yes,” he said, and he sounded helpless. Channon was pinned by Jack’s sharp gaze, but he reached for Victor’s hip and stroked it, trying to rub comfort into him.
The way Jack wanted them was like this: Victor on his back, Channon over him on hands and knees, Jack kneeling between Victor’s thighs with his cock in Channon’s mouth.
Channon felt displayed, and he was, reflected in the long mirrors down one side of Victor’s bedroom. He caught a glimpse of himself, arched between them, Jack’s hand in his hair holding him still as Jack fucked his mouth, Victor’s fingers digging into Channon’s thighs as he took Channon to the back of his throat. His reflection looked debauched, Jack’s slutty little sex toy he was sharing with a friend. It made his belly tighten, a hot, squirming shame over how much he wanted this.
“You can come,” Jack said graciously, and Channon didn’t even have to try. It was inexorable, Victor’s mouth a hot, wet heaven, his throat tight velvet, his hands hard on Channon’s thighs. One of those hands slid up, fingers dipping between Channon’s cheeks, a thumb rubbing over his rim and Channon lost it. He came in a hard rush, his body racked with the strength of release, God, it was almost painful.
Jack’s cock was huge in his mouth, in his throat, and then it was hot salt flooding his tongue, Jack’s hand tight in his hair, the unmistakable groan that was Jack taking his pleasure from Channon’s body.
And then— “Good boy.”
Jack slid out of his mouth. Channon chased him with his tongue, licking hungrily at the last of Jack’s come. Victor’s mouth was still on him, pressing kisses up and down his cock like it was something precious, his breath hot and shaky.
Fuck. “I think I’m just going to pass out,” Channon said, which made Jack laugh and roll him over.
“Yeah? Need some water?”
Channon nodded, staring up at the ceiling. It was decorated with white stuff. Stucco? Something. Leaves and flowers, in a circle around the light fitting. The light in here was golden, soft, comforting. It smelled like Victor. Well, right now it smelled like sex, but also Victor, that rich leather and tobacco scent and the something else Channon now knew was horses.
He propped himself up on his elbows, blinking at Victor at the other end of the bed. “Hey,” he said. “Was that okay?”
For some reason, this made Victor laugh, and then cover his face with his hands. “Was it okay?” Victor ran his fingers through his hair, his curls mussed and fluffy. “You. God, I don’t even know what to say.”
“If it wasn’t okay,” Channon said, “then you have to tell me, so I can make up for it.”
Victor lowered his hands. “It was more than okay,” he said very seriously. “I feel like I don’t deserve it.”
“Deserve what?” Channon asked.
Victor’s mouth thinned. “Any of this.”
Channon wanted to ask, but Jack had come back with water and the grapes from the grazing platter. He handed Victor a glass and then made Channon drink a little, rubbing a hand over his shoulder and back, radiating satisfaction. “Feeling better?”
“Mm-hmm.” Channon accepted a grape from Jack’s fingers. “Did I do okay?”
Jack chuckled and ruffled Channon’s hair. “As far as I’m concerned, you were perfect.” He glanced at Victor, one eyebrow arching up in a question.
At first, Victor just looked back at him. Then he seemed to realize something. “You were great,” he told Channon. “It was good.” He let out a huff of what might have been amusement. “Twice now makes this a habit.”
“One you’re welcome to indulge,” Jack said. “As long as Channon’s interested.”
It sounded like permission, but for what, exactly, Channon didn’t know. In any case, Victor looked a little lonely at the head of the bed all by himself, so Channon crawled up to kiss him. He was hot, slick with sweat, and he put his arms around Channon as if accepting a gift. Channon kissed his mouth and his jaw, and settled against him, looking back to catch Jack’s eye and his hand.
“Is this okay?” He had to check, right?
Jack twined their fingers together. “Should we head to our room?”
The hand on the back of Channon’s neck tightened a fraction. “No,” Victor said. “Stay. Please.”
Smiling, Jack lay down, his thumb stroking Channon’s wrist. “All right,” he said.
Channon felt the press of Victor’s mouth against his hairline and heard him murmur, “Thank you.”
If you are sick of seeing links to go buy Top to Bottom (His Boy Next Door #38), imagine how sick I am of posting them!