All Chapters of Sinful desires: MM Steamy compilation : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Miles pov“You have to go deep,” Uncle Kale said, voice low and steady, like he was teaching a lesson he’d given a hundred times before. “Open him up. Like this…”I felt the scratch of his stubble first, rough against the tender inside of my crack. Then his tongue, hot and flat, lapped a long, slow stripe from the root of my cock all the way up to my tailbone. I shivered hard, goosebumps racing across my back, and instinctively raised my ass higher, arching to give him better access. Trevor’s fingers were still there, holding me open, thumbs digging into the soft flesh of my cheeks, spreading me wider for Uncle Kale’s mouth.Uncle Kale didn’t tease. He dove in, tongue circling my rim in wide, lazy loops before plunging deep. The wet heat of him pushed inside me, thick muscle thrusting in and out. I moaned out loud into the sheets, hips rocking back to meet him, trying to take more. His hands gripped my hips, fingers bruising, holding me still while he fucked me with his tongue, deep,

Kale povMiles did the work. Only one of us could thrust if we planned to keep this up without tearing him. I hadn’t expected it to feel so fucking good. Trevor’s cock slid up and down mine inside Miles’s ass, the thick shaft massaging my length with every slow drag. The heat, the pressure, the slick glide of his skin against mine through Miles’s tight channel—it was overwhelming. Miles had stopped clenching in resistance; now he focused on staying as open as he could, breathing deep and slow, trying to take us both without breaking. But each time Trevor thrust forward, pressing against my dick, Miles shook in my arms and keened—high, broken sounds that went straight to my balls. He mewled, hands clawing at Trevor’s shoulders and my hip, nails digging in sharp enough to leave marks.I held him tighter, one arm wrapped around his waist to keep him steady, the other sliding up his chest to toy with his nipples. They were still swollen and red from earlier pinching; when I rolled one b

Reed POVI let out a deep groan and yanked the pillow over my head, trying to block out the insistent doorbell that had been going off for at least five minutes. Who the hell rings like that at this hour? My body felt heavy, glued to the mattress from last night’s late gaming session. Noah, of course, slept through anything—house could be on fire and he’d probably just roll over and mumble about five more minutes.Fourth ring. I cursed under my breath and dragged myself upright. Sweatpants on, hair a disaster, eyes still half-crusted shut. I glanced at my phone: 7:03 a.m. Practice in two hours. Coach would skin us alive if we showed up looking like zombies.I shuffled down the hall, past Noah’s closed door. Typical. The doorbell rang again as I reached the front. I yanked it open.A delivery guy in a brown uniform stood there, clipboard in hand. “Noah Smith?”“Yeah, that’s me,” I said without missing a beat.I’m not Noah. Noah’s probably buried under that ridiculous king-size pillow h

Noah POV I can barely look reed in the eye the next day. My brain keeps trying to shove the memory into a locked box labeled “Never Happened,” but my body isn’t cooperating. Least of all my dick. It started the second I woke up hard, leaking against my stomach, the image burned behind my eyelids: Reed in his desk chair, legs spread, hand wrapped tight around his cock. The slow, deliberate strokes. The way his thumb swiped over the head on every upstroke, collecting precum that glistened under the lamp. Those small, punched-out pants he let slip when he got close—sharp inhales, low groans that vibrated through the quiet room. His abs flexing, thighs tensing, hips lifting just enough to chase his own fist. I thought the kiss at the party had wrecked me. That was nothing. Watching my best friend come apart like that—head tipped back, throat working on a choked moan as thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles—was worse. Way worse. Because now I knew exactly how he sounded when he lo

Noah POV I need to find a way to stop thinking about him. The entire ride home my mind replayed the locker-room moment on a torturous loop: Reed’s hand on my cock through the towel, his thumb circling the head, the way his breath hitched when he felt how hard I was for him. By the time I pushed through the apartment door, I was painfully hard, leaking into my boxers, every step rubbing the fabric against the sensitive tip in a way that made my teeth grind. All I wanted was to bolt to my room, lock the door, strip, and jerk off until my brain short-circuited. Maybe dig out one of the toys from that damn box still sitting unopened on my dresser. Something to fill the ache that had taken up permanent residence in my gut since the dare. But Reed was already there. He lounged on the couch like he owned every inch of the space, legs spread wide, one arm draped along the backrest, the other holding a can of beer. The TV flickered with some post-game highlights, but his eyes were on the do