When I come down, I’m floating.
I feel soaked in sweat. I’m wet, sticky. I don’t feel at all like a solid form. I am my racing heartbeat. My shuddery breath.
Jason pulls out of me once he finishes, and I feel empty. It’s strange—thirty minutes before, this was all I knew. Now, without Jason inside of me, I feel like something is missing.
He kisses my chest, my neck, and then my lips. “Are you okay?” he asks.
A laugh bubbles up and escapes me. “Amazing,” I say. “That was…amazing.”
I realize I’m still gripping Donovan’s hand. I pull it to my lips and give the back of his fingers a kiss, too.
“Thank you,” I say. “Both of you.”
Donovan shifts in his seat slightly, trying to adjust. But in only his briefs and a shirt, it’s hard not to see the swell of him.
I sink into the cushion, becoming one with the material. Meanwhile, Jason stands up.
“Hey, dude, I’ve got you,” Jason says. He comes over and pats Donovan’s chest.
“What—?” Donovan starts.
Jason reaches into Donovan’s briefs, pops out his erection, and drops to his knees.
“Holy…fuck…” Donovan sputters, which is what everyone is thinking.
Because now Jason King has Donovan down his throat. His fingers clench on Donovan’s shirt, and his head bobs low. Steady, determined swoops in Donovan’s lap.
I can’t help tear my eyes away. My lips go dry and I wet them with the tip of my tongue. Donovan’s eyes roll back. His moan is low and long.
I don’t release Donovan’s fingers, and neither does he. He’s quiet, for the most part, save a couple shuddered breaths and small, swallowed swears. He looks concentrated, his eyebrows knit. I can tell when he finishes because his fingers squeeze mine again, tightly, and then his grip slackens.
Jason rises and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He dips down to meet Donovan’s lips, and they almost-kiss. It’s a soft, tentative thing, a brush of lips, and there’s something very…sweet about it. Then Jason scoops up the blanket from the bench, cocoons it around himself, and then says, “You need to get this place a proper bed.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” says Donovan, his breath light.
Jason tosses the blanket out on the floor and settles down on that instead. It’s the only place where there’s enough room for the three of us. I climb over to lay beside him, and Donovan follows suit, trapping me in the middle.
For a while, we just breath together. It’s not an uncomfortable silence. It’s just…silence. All three of us taking in what just happened. Letting this insane night settle into our bones.
Insane. And amazing. Here, between the two of them, I feel like I’m exactly where I need to be. For the first time, I’m not a burden. I’m not in the way. I’m right where I’m supposed to be, and it feels good.
I curl up against Donovan’s chest and tug Jason’s arm around me, savoring their body heat.
“Hey, so…” Jason starts, a small strain in his voice, his breath brushing my hair, “are you guys…uh…going to tell anyone about this?”
Donovan and I make eye contact—and make a silent agreement.
“We’re the Three Muskrats,” I say and lace my fingers through Jason’s, pulling him tighter. “What happens on the boat, stays on the boat.”
