How We Are: A MFM romance

Roles

Ezra

They're talking. She doesn't hate him. Why doesn't she hate him? Does she like him? Are they going to fuck after this or something?

He comes into the restaurant and grabs his jacket. "Let's go."

"What did she say?" I insist.

Cain hustles me out of the restaurant, locking up after us. He's silent and I keep pressing him but he won't budge. Not until we get in the car.

It's pitch back, a singular, flicking streetlight shining light in the car.

Cain's hands on the steering wheel but we're not going anywhere. Cain always has serious talks in the car. I'm not sure why, but I'm sure it's something traumatic.

"Open for me,"

His demand is guttural, striking fear into my bones. What did she do and why do I have to deal with the aftermath.

I briefly wonder what he wants me to open. I decide to play it safe, and open my legs, my eyes and my mouth. He nods. Good boy.

My stomach flips. Cain reaches out, clamping his large hands on my face. I shudder, but he doesn't care. This Cain after all. He demands and his demands are met.

His eyes stay locked on mine. "You like her?"

I nod softly. He returns my nod.

"You wanna fuck her?"
"Please."

Cain chuckles. "Not my choice."

He lets me go, looking ahead. "She seems interested in a threesome. Are you okay with that?"

Am I—
Am I?

Cain is waiting for my response. We have roles in this thing. He keeps me in line. I ground him. Give him somewhere to go, someone to come home to.

Someone who knows him. Someone who cares.

"You wanna fuck her then?" I ask.

He looks over at me. "You seen her?"

Hm. Fair point. He wants her. He wants her. I don't think I like that. But there's nothing I can do.

I wish I could tell him to touch me. He would, that's why I don't say it. Why I don't ask. Why I don't initiate. Because he feels he owes me and I know that. It's why he puts up with me.

If I ask he'll say yes. If I kiss him he'll let me. If I told him right now, to fuck me he would. But I would never know if it was because he wanted to. If he wanted me, really wanted me like he wants her; visceral, primal want.

Like I want him.

He's never told me never showed that he does. I want to have him. Before anyone else. If we fuck her, I want him first. Before she touches him, taints him.

"Answer."

Right. I don't know what to say so I nod and tell him I do want it.

He starts the car and starts driving home. It's silent. Cain is a hyper vigilant person. There's no music when he drives. He needs to hear everything organically, without distraction. The hum of the engine, the sound of the wind against the windows, the beeps of impatient cars. The breath of the passenger.

Mine is shallow. I'm trying to even it out but I can't. He's hard. He's been hard since he was talking to her, but he's still hard and it's distracting me. This whole situation is distracting me.

Now I'm picturing his hands on my body.

Around my neck, under my shirt, those strong hands around my dick.