Go over to Mike
From Create Your Own Story
The studio air prickles against your bare feet as you step off the seamless white backdrop paper, the material crinkling faintly beneath your toes. Goosebumps ripple up your legs—part from the cold concrete floor, part from the weight of Mick's gaze tracking your approach. He pushes off the edge of the weathered oak desk where he'd been perched, the wood groaning in protest. His fingers work the button of his jeans with practiced ease, the denim parting with a hiss of zipper teeth. You don't need to look down to know what's coming, but your breath hitches anyway when his cock springs free—thick, already half-hard.
"Good boy," he murmurs, the words rough-edged and warm, barely louder than the rustle of fabric pooling around his work boots. Behind you, Rod's stifled groan cuts through the hum of fluorescent lights, followed by the unmistakable wet sounds of Kevin working him over. A camera whirs to life with a digital chirp. You glance back just long enough to see the lens focusing, Kevin's shoulders flexing as he takes Rod deeper, one hand lazily palming the camera controls.
When you turn back, Mick's jeans are tangled around his calves, the scent of musk and salt thick in the space between you. Dropping to your knees sends a jolt through your bones—the floor unforgiving, the ache delicious. Your first touch draws a hiss through his teeth; velvet skin sliding over steel beneath your fingers. Leaning in, you let your tongue swipe the tip before taking him into your mouth, the weight and heat of him pressing against your palate as he hardens fully.
The noises he makes are filthy, unrestrained, mingling with Rod's choked curses as Kevin swallows him down. You hollow your cheeks, tongue tracing the thick vein along Mick's shaft while one hand kneads the muscle of his thigh. The other palms your own aching hardness through the stretchy fabric of your jockstrap, the friction almost cruel in its teasing.
"That's it," Mick grits out, his head tipping back as his hips jerk shallowly into your throat. You peer up through your lashes, lips stretched obscenely around him, and double down—sucking hard just to hear him unravel.
