Page 110 of The Good Boys Club

I nodded. My tail slapped against the wooden slats between us, and Cian gently—so gently I didn’t feel it at first—slipped the tip of a finger into my ass.

“How’s that?”

“Fine. I mean, it doesn’t hurt.”

He pushed in further. And a little more. Withdrew it almost all the way and pushed it back in. I already needed more of him.

“That feels amazing,” I whimpered.

“Yeah?” He thrust into me again. And again. And then . . .

“Oh! Fuck! Oh my gods! What was that? Holy shit.”

“That’s your p-spot.”

For about ten seconds, I was entirely lost for words. “Whatever you did just then, do it again, please.”

Cian obeyed, curling his finger and rubbing upwards against that spot over and over. I thought my eyeballs were going to roll out of my skull. My back arched, tail ramrod straight.

He nudged my legs up higher, leaned over me a little more, and added a second finger. I had to bite down on the top of my forearm to stop myself from howling.

“Fuck,” he said—whispered. “You’re beautiful.” He began pumping his fingers, slowly at first, then gradually building up speed. “Fuck your hand, Mash. I need to see you paint yourself in cum.”

I didn’t argue. I was so desperate to touch myself. My knots were so swollen and aching. I wrapped my fist around my cock and started stroking. Cian’s eyes flitted from the action to my face and back again. His breaths were shallow, his brows furrowed, his fingers still buried inside me. When he pulled his lower lip into his mouth and ran his teeth along it, I exploded.

Couldn’t hold myself back any longer. My release shot across my chest in thick, silky stripes. Cian watched it happen with such a level of concentration you’d think he was going to be tested on it.

After I’d floated back down, he gulped, and gently removed his fingers. “You did so good.”

My tail began tapping the deck again.

Cian ran two fingers through my cum, and swiped it along his collarbone as we did last night. “This method is a bit more fun than peeing in a cup, no?”

“Just a bit,” I agreed.

“How about we scent each other like this for the rest of Harvest Fest?”

“Sounds like a win-win plan to me.”

Snout and About

Present Day

Cian

“Good morning sunbeam of my eternal love,” Mash said, pulling himself into the big spoon against the curve of my back. He buried his nose in the crook of my neck and his erection against my ass. We were both naked.

The early breeze flitted through the open window, flapping the curtain softly against the stone wall. Beyond it, birds chattered—blackbirds, and robins, and finches—their songs now so familiar they bled into the background of my consciousness and I could only hear them if I paused and listened.

It had been over a week since Mash and I took our friendship and tore it to shreds by kissing each other on a fallen tree trunk, then tore it into teenier shreds by swapping cum in Mash’s shower, and the BJ by the lake, and then of course every BJ and frot and mutual wank since.

We were taking things slowly-ish and hadn’t fucked. Had done everything but fuck. Somehow, it felt as though not fucking was the last thing stopping this friendship from collapsing. Like it was a tiny thread, and if we had sex, there would be nothing new left for Mash to discover. His curiosities would have been quenched, and why would he need me around after that?

But also . . . I needed to. Needed to feel myself inside him on almost a cell-deep level.

I wanted to pin my best friend down, hook his legs over my shoulders and fuck him until he wept, my name on his lips as he decorated his own stomach.

“Happy birthday, Mash.” I rocked my ass upwards just so I could hear him moan in my ear.

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