Page 70 of Jackson

Jackson was blissed out.

Michael was stroking his cock frantically.

Leaning over, Finn pushed Michael’s hand away before swallowing Michael down his throat. Michael cried out as he filled Finn’s mouth.

He couldn’t even try to control where he splayed once he lifted his head. There was an elbow digging into his shoulder. Cum cooling between him and Jackson. Someone’s leg was twitching.

Jackson started to giggle.

A true, bright fucking giggle.

Michael snorted. Then joined in on the giggling.

Finn wanted to shake his head. He was too tired to even ask what was going on but hearing how happy his boys were had his shoulders shaking as he tried to swallow his own laugh.

* * * * *

Jackson

Sex bruises were the best bruises. Weird? Maybe, but Jackson didn’t think that his body had ever been so sated in his life. And that was saying a lot since he’d had good sex before. Being with Finn and Michael was always amazing but last night…that had been something else. It had also gotten rid of the itch that had been shadowing him.

He let the hot water beat down on his shoulders as he admired the bite marks and bruises over his chest and hips. His men had loved him like he’d never been loved before. Jackson was already trying to figure out how to get his men to do that to him again. Maybe there was something to this whole trust and relying on his partner’s thing. Finn and Michael had given Jackson exactly what he’d needed.

The shower door slid open, and a naked Michael joined him.

“You’re going to use all the hot water,” Michael complained.

Jackson pulled his cranky partner into his arms. They’d been woken by Finn’s phone, again, and Michael had let out a string of curses that Jackson hadn’t known he was capable of.

“I’ll keep you warm,” Jackson promised.

“Just share the hot water,” Michael told him.

“Fine.” Jackson stepped out of the spray of water and picked up the bar of soap. He lathered his palms then started to rub Michael’s neck.

“Yes,” Michael hissed, his head dropping forward.

Jackson both massaged and cleaned Michael until Michael was leaning heavily against the tiled wall. He turned Michael to rinse him off before Jackson grabbed the bottle of shampoo. He took his time shampooing Michael’s hair even though he was afraid that Michael would fall sleep standing up. After forcing Michael’s head back, Jackson washed out the shampoo. As soon as he turned off the water, which had started to cool, Michael wrapped his arms around Jackson’s waist.

“Thank you, bubbie,” Michael whispered.

“Anytime,” Jackson said truthfully. He would do that every morning. There was something special about the trust that Michael put in him. He knew that he was not a Daddy. That was more than obvious with the amount of trouble he liked starting, but Jackson could see the appeal. He could also totally rock this bubbie thing.

He slid open the shower door and grabbed the towel he’d laid out for himself. Jackson dried off Michael first, making sure that Michael didn’t get cold. He wrapped the towel around Michael’s waist before getting out and finding a towel for himself.

Since Michael was still just standing there, watching him, Jackson guided Michael from the shower and out of the bathroom. He found lounge clothes for them to dress in. Jackson wasn’t keen on going anywhere and it was still early. He dressed Michael first then yanked on a pair of sweatpants. He didn’t bother with a shirt. Jackson enjoyed looking down and seeing the marks he wore from his men.

Finn hadn’t returned to the bedroom. Jackson took Michael’s hand to go find their missing partner.

Opening the bedroom door, Jackson could hear Finn in the kitchen. The apartment really was too small for three grown men, but the coziness was nice. Jackson enjoyed being able to hear his men.

He’d almost lost his mind the night before. The need to run. To find trouble. Unable to sleep, Jackson had wandered into the living room. From his perch by the window, he could still hear Michael’s soft snores and Finn’s breathing. And even though the feeling didn’t leave him, Jackson had been able to stop himself from doing something stupid.

“Hey! I was just about to grab you both. Breakfast is ready,” Finn smiled at them. He wore a pair of soft blue sweats and a black tank top. He was just yummy to look at and it warmed Jackson from the inside out.

Finn’s gaze dropped to Jackson’s chest. Heat filled his eyes as he clearly saw the same bites and bruises that Jackson had admired earlier. Fuck! Finn didn’t warm him up—Finn was going to scorch him.

“There’s a package on the counter for you,” Finn said.

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