Chapter 26

Francesco looked, in turn, at the two other men at the table. They were all eating without saying a word, but it appeared that he was the only one who felt awkward about the whole thing. Karl eventually looked at him. “Why aren’t you eating?” he asked, pointing at his plate.

Francesco just shook his head. “I’m not that hungry.” He couldn’t read the room, and it was starting to drive him nuts.

“Maybe you need some special sauce with that,” Karl said leaning back into his chair and looking at him hard.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Francesco asked. He shouldn’t be itching for a fight, not with what lay ahead of them, trying to bring down Karl’s dad and hoping to live enough after to tell the tale.

Karl leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “You’ve been staring at me and Morgan for the last 10 minutes, like you expect us to jump you or something. Weren’t you the one who wanted to have the family together for dinner?”

Francesco swallowed hard. There was something strange in how Karl looked at him. “Have you ever fucked him?” It took him a few moments to realize the question wasn’t directed at him. “Morgan,” Karl added, without taking his eyes off Francesco.

He pushed back his chair and jumped to his feet, trying to cover whatever Morgan was going to say or not say. Either way, it looked like Karl had figured that out somehow.

Karl was faster than him, barring his exit. “Sit down,” he ordered and pushed against Francesco’s chest. “Morgan,” he said again.

“Yes,” Morgan replied.

Francesco moved his head quickly to give Morgan an ugly stare. Whose side was he on?

“How was it?” Karl asked, while his lips quirked in a strange smile.

“Better than all the fucks I’ve got in my life.”

“Morgan, what the fuck, dude?” Francesco mumbled, while his eyes darted from Karl to Morgan, and back again.

“He’s like that,” Karl said. He was more forceful when he pushed Francesco back, until he made him sit down again.

Morgan was the one to stand up. “Karl, Francesco is not to blame. If it’s someone you need to be angry with--”

Karl put one hand up. “I’m not angry.” Then, much to Francesco’s shock, he whipped out his cock. He looked away while Karl pushed the head of his cock against his cheek. “Morgan, let’s help Francesco a little. I bet he’ll gobble all that down if it’s got the right sauce.” He laughed after that, like it was some smart joke.

He pushed Karl’s cock away. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he mumbled.

Karl grabbed him by a handful of hair at the back of his head. He forced him to look up and then used his cock to slap him softly on the lips. “Cesco, I know what you need. And I know what I need.” There was more honesty in those two lines than Francesco was ready to accept. “Morgan, I’m not kidding. And I’m not angry with you, either, for fucking my Cesco. I bet he came like a fucking hose while you fucked him, right?”

Morgan seemed to understand Karl better than him because he came closer and took out his cock, as well. Francesco could feel the smell of both cocks now, the lighter scent of Karl’s precum, and the headier one coming from Morgan. He tipped his head back to look at both men. Karl looked straight at Morgan and didn’t move at all while the bodyguard kissed him. He didn’t seem to return the kiss, either, but just the simple fact that he didn’t fight back or run away was enough of a surprise on its own.

“Cesco, open your mouth,” Karl ordered.

He did because part of him wanted to see where that was going to go. Two mushroom heads rubbed against his lips, and he pushed out his tongue to lick them. The two men rubbed their cocks without saying a word, and Francesco struggled to suck one, then the other. He couldn’t insist too much, because Karl guided him to suck him off then Morgan at equal intervals.

“Not in his mouth,” Karl said in a strained voice.

Francesco watched as Karl pumped his cock and spread all his juice over the plate. Morgan seemed just as locked and loaded because he followed right after. There was no other thing for him to do but to stare at his own plate, at the food covered in cum. Karl wiped the head of his cock against Francesco’s lips, as he stood there, in complete shock. “Lick,” the order came, and he did just as told, enjoying the familiar taste of Karl’s cum right from the tip.

To his relief, Morgan didn’t do the same and just put his cock back into his pants and sat at the table like nothing as weird as that had just happened. Karl kissed his forehead and then zippered up. “I bet you’ll like it more now.”

Without saying anything, Francesco grabbed his fork and began eating. His cock was hard, his heart was beating wildly, and he was eating pasta with cum for the first time in his life.

“Will you tell me what that was about?” Francesco asked while looking at Karl undressing and folding his clothes military-style even if he took them to the hamper for dirty laundry.

“That was,” Karl started, “about me preparing for watching you suck my dad’s cock.”

“What the hell? I’m not going to do that,” Francesco protested.

“You’re going to do it,” Karl said matter-of-factly. “He thinks he has the upper hand, that he fucking you makes me angry, but I’m smarter than that. Sure, if he forces me to watch, I might get angry. Very angry.”

“So you’re using Morgan as proxy? How fucked up is that?”

Karl gave him a hard look and climbed on the bed, his cock bouncing up and down. It was impossible not to stare at the thing. These days, Karl was a walking hardon. “Not more fucked up than you fucking Morgan behind my back.”

“I’m not doing that,” Francesco said quickly, by habit of self-preservation.

“No, you’re not. He’s fucking you.”

Francesco wrapped his arms around himself, not knowing what to think or feel. Karl took him by the shoulders and turned him until he lay on his belly. Right away, wet fingers went for his ass and began pushing inside. “How many times?” he asked.

Francesco moaned as Karl hooked his fingers inside, probing him and giving him a heads-up on what was going to happen next.

“How many times?”

“I’m not telling you. I don’t want you to hurt Morgan. Please, don’t hurt Morgan,” he whimpered while Karl finger-fucked him.