Oliver's Next Morning

The first thing Alexander noticed was the tension in his neck, he was barely tucked in on the couch anymore. Had he even slept? Oliver had done that--he always did, even when they fought. Even when Alexander chose the couch over their bed.

Light crept in through the sheer curtains, warm and gold, but not quite enough to chase away the chill from the night before. He stayed still, staring at the ceiling. The cushion beneath him was too narrow for comfort, his neck ached faintly, and yet he hadn't moved once all night. He didn't want to.

His thoughts circled back, slow and thick like honey: Oliver's voice, low and careful. "What if we opened things up... just a little? Just to explore."

At the time, Alexander had only blinked at him, unable to speak. Not because he was angry. Not exactly. But because Oliver had looked at him with those stormy gray eyes, soft with hope and fear all at once, and it was the most vulnerable Alexander had seen him in months.

He hadn't said yes. He hadn't said no, either.

And then, as if summoned by the heat of the moment, Trevor had knocked on their door.

Unexpected, of course. Unexpected for him anyway. Oliver had invited him.

He had only seen the man a handful of times at their shared gym. Trevor was always a little too smooth, a little too good-looking, the kind of guy you didn't invite over if your marriage was on a ledge. Six foot three, chiseled, always smelling like something expensive and slightly dangerous. Oliver had gone to answer the door, but Alexander had been the one Trevor's eyes landed on.

He exhaled, letting the memory play out in the stillness of the room. The faint click of the door. Trevor's smirk. The way Oliver's hand lingered too long on Trevor's arm in greeting.

And then... Alexander shook his head.

His body stirred under the blanket. The warmth of it now felt too much, like the memory itself was beginning to melt into him, seep through his skin.

He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair.

What the hell am I doing? What the fuck did I allow to happen?

He moved slowly, the blanket sliding from his hips. The apartment was too still, as if it were waiting for him to react. But to what, exactly?

Alexander leaned back against the couch, letting his head rest against the cushion. That last part of the night--the part after the conversation, after Trevor had arrived--was foggy with emotion, not alcohol. He remembered the look on Trevor's face.

That mouth. That smirk.

And then the words, tossed out like a knife hidden in a compliment.

"Guess he didn't tell you about Cleo's."

Alexander had frowned, his chest already tightening.

Trevor had said it too casually to be casual. And Oliver had gone to Cleo's. Just two weekends ago. Alexander had been in Chicago, pacing in his hotel room between back-to-back meetings, exchanging sweet, surface-level texts with Oliver.

"Just out with Seth. Cleo's is wild tonight."

He remembered the message exactly. He'd even smiled at it.

And now? The same sentence tasted bitter in his memory. Had Oliver slept with someone that night? Was the conversation last night an attempt to rewrite something already done?

His stomach clenched. Not out of anger, not quite--but confusion. He'd known they were drifting a little. He just hadn't realized how far.

And the worst part wasn't the possibility that Oliver had been with someone.

It was the gnawing thought that he might never have known--if Trevor hadn't said anything.

Alexander rubbed his hand over his mouth, then down to his throat. His skin felt hot despite the room's cool air. Beneath the confusion, something else stirred. Jealousy? No--something stranger, darker. A part of him wanted to know exactly what happened that night.

Who had touched Oliver?

And why Oliver hadn't told him first.

The silence was fractured by a sudden voice.

"Hey, Bitchboy, get in here!" Trevor's voice carried down the hallway like it owned the place.

Alexander flinched--his heart jumping before his body followed. He sat up too fast, the blanket sliding off in a tangled heap. His feet hit the floor with a soft thud, cold against the hardwood. He still wore the same outfit from last night.

He didn't answer.

He didn't need to. The weight of Trevor's voice had already shifted the morning into something else--something heavier.

For a moment, he stood frozen just outside the hall, unsure if his body would listen. Then, quietly, he made his way toward the bedroom.

The door was slightly ajar. He hesitated, hand hovering above the knob.

Then he pushed it open.

The scene hit him like a punch wrapped in cotton.

The curtains were drawn, sunlight slipping through in soft ribbons of the warm-hued room. Oliver lay on the far side of the bed, tangled in the sheets, one bare shoulder exposed, pale and rising slowly with breath. Still mostly asleep. Peaceful. Innocent, even.

Trevor sat upright beside him, shirtless, sheets carelessly low on his hips. His body, as always, was absurd--sharp lines, tan skin, the kind of physique you could only get if you scheduled it. He didn't bother hiding the smirk as his eyes met Alexander's.

"There you are," Trevor said, stretching. His tone was all mock surprise, as if Alexander were the one trespassing. ""I gave Oliver quite a seeing to last night, Alexander, he'll be as hungry as I am when he wakes up. Go and make us some breakfast. Eggs? Coffee? Something."

Alexander didn't answer. He couldn't. Not yet.

His gaze drifted back to Oliver--his Oliver--still soft in sleep, lashes casting tiny shadows on his cheeks, lips parted just slightly.

He wondered how long ago Oliver had fallen asleep. He wondered who had held him there.

And underneath it all, hot and rising like floodwater, came the anger.

It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.

It coiled inside him, tight and burning. Not just at Trevor, lounging like a king. Not even at Oliver, who had let it happen--or maybe wanted it to happen.

No, the anger was at himself.

For wondering if he should say yes. For doubting what he deserved. For letting someone else--this smug, smirking man--decide the shape of his morning.

His jaw clenched.

"I'll see what we have," he said finally, voice low, eyes not leaving Trevor's. It wasn't an agreement. It wasn't obedience. It was something colder.

And then he turned.

The door creaked softly as it closed behind him.

The kitchen was too clean. Too quiet. Every sound Alexander made felt louder than it should've--each crack of an egg, each scrape of the whisk in the bowl. The pan hissed when the butter hit, the scent rising thick and warm, familiar.

He moved mechanically, as if his body had agreed to the task without consulting the rest of him. Cooking. Breakfast. For them.

Trevor's words still rang in his ears, bright with insult and possession.

"Make us something."

The plural stung. It was the way Trevor said "us," like he'd always belonged there. Like Oliver had already made the choice. Or worse--had never needed to.

Alexander's grip tightened on the spatula. He told himself the pan was the reason his face felt hot.

He plated the eggs, carefully, slowly, like it would help keep his hands steady. Two glasses of orange juice. Two napkins folded at perfect angles. No mistakes. No outbursts. Not yet.

When he lifted the tray, it felt heavier than it should. He wasn't sure what he expected, walking back down that hallway. Not gratitude. No clarity.

Maybe just something.

The door was still mostly closed when he reached it. He nudged it open with a foot.

Then stopped.

For a split second, he forgot to breathe.

Now that Oliver and Trevor were awake, they were both naked. The sheets were almost pushed all the way down. Oliver was kneeling in front of Trevor, who was standing on the bed.

Trevor's body was a sculpture of effortless confidence.

He sat in the dim wash of morning light like it was painted for him--broad shoulders relaxed, posture open, unbothered. His skin was golden, almost glowing, where the sun kissed it through the slats of the blinds. Every line of him was honed: chest firm, abs defined in a way that suggested not just fitness but control, discipline. The kind that didn't need to boast, because the results spoke louder.

His torso tapered cleanly into narrow hips, and the blanket draped low enough to show the deep lines carved into his pelvis--the kind that always pulled the eye lower, whether you wanted them to or not. His arms rested easily at his sides, but there was no mistaking the strength in them. His body didn't just invite attention--it assumed it. Owned it.

There was no effort in how he displayed himself. That was the worst part.

He didn't try to seduce. He just was.

And there was his husband, sucking ravenously on the large cock that had provided him with so much pleasure the night before.

"This is still happening..." Alexander's voice trailed off. He wasn't sure but he felt like he heard his husband, moan an 'uh huh' into Trevor's massive cock.

"Alexander, put those things down. Come over here and give your cocksucking slut of a boyfriend and good morning kiss."

Alexander placed the tray of eggs, sausage, bacon, toast, orange juice, and coffee down on a side dresser. With a sigh, he moved across the room to the pair. Oliver was unrelenting on the man's dick.

Although Trevor continued to screw his husband in his hot mouth, Alexander leaned down to give Oliver a kiss. Waiting for his to release the dick, he never did. Alexander pressed his lips against his partner's cheek. As Trevor plunged into Oliver's throat, Alexander felt the man's large tool rub against his partner's cheek as he kissed it.

"Get down and eat him hole while he sucks me, cuck!" Trevor laughed.

Alexander hesitated for a moment, giving the man a wicked glare. Still, he knelt on the bed, placing himself between Oliver's legs. The man's heated moisture was evident, and his hole was still gaping from the previous night.

As he had a thousand-time Alexander buried his face in his partner's ass. Instinctively he licked and sucked the precious hole. Immediately, he was overcome with the smell and taste of day-old semen.

He started with small kisses, his lips brushing against Oliver's once tight hole, his touch gentle and teasing.

Oliver groaned, his hands fisting into the bed sheets. For a moment, Alexander felt proud, as if he was giving his partner something, Trevor couldn't.

Alexander looked up, his eyes meeting with the standing man, lording above them. Somehow, that pride was quickly stolen as he watched his husband bobbing furiously on the man's rod.

His partner breath deeply, only removing his lips from Trevor's cock long enough to moan the word, "More."

Alexander obliged, his tongue replacing his lips. He licked and sucked, his touch firm and insistent. Oliver's moans filled the room, his body writhing under Alexander's touch. He lapped hungrily at him ass, and sucked and nibbled on him..

Oliver moaned around the big dick in him mouth.

The pale man spread his legs further and lowered him onto his husband's face as he kept licking his ass. In an attempt to push as much of his penis into his willing mouth as possible, Trevor accelerated the pace.

Alexander was powerless to stop himself. He became aroused as he saw Oliver enjoying his tongue on his hole, and his modest erection produced a tent in his pants. Trevor laughed when he saw the pitiful bulge. He pulled away from Seth's mouth and let go of his wrists.

"Well, Alexander, do you like that? Get him up so you can have a better look!" Trevor Laughed.

Leaning down, Trveor snatched Alexander's hair from beneath Oliver and pulled him to his knees right in front of him. The Latin man shoved Oliver's face deep into his pubes.

"Hey, you sexy little whore, suck on my balls. Your sissy husband's next lesson is about to begin!"

Before putting each big ball in his mouth, one by one, Oliver licked his scrotum. His eyes locked onto Alexander's but his tongue never stopped traveling over the surface of the nutsack.

For a heartbeat, he didn't know where he was.

Then he felt the hand on his face--Trevor's hand--and the memory of the night before came rushing back like heat behind his ribs.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice whispered: This is too far.

It wasn't anger or shame. Just that quiet nudge of awareness. A soft ache of guilt twisted behind his ribs.

Alexander.

He should've pulled away.

But instead, he took one of the massive balls into his mouth.

The guilt disappeared.

He hoped that Trevor would take him again at the end of this lesson because his hole was still buzzing. Oliver couldn't help but moan into the man's nuts.

Trevor let his hand fall to his side. His heart was breaking.

Oliver felt his balls tighten in his mouth as Trevor's rubbed his ten inch dick. His cock was bigger than Alexander's and Oliver's. The throbbing dark colored member pointed straight out at the man before him. Now free, the foreskin had begun to slowly move back over the enlarged head.

He continued to point his penis at Alexander while holding him by the hair. Oliver was astonished to see rope after rope of thick, white cum burst from Trevor's penis and cover his husband's face, even though he knew what his balls were about to do. Trevor let out a bone-chilling roar.

Alexander just knelt there in shock. He was not prepared for that. And he couldn't understand how the man was able to pull together yet another incredible load since last night. He was barely able to scrape together a second load after cumming once!

A small trickle of the man's semen made its way into his mouth. The warm, salty musk was intoxicating, but he didn't dare give the man the satisfaction of licking it up.

"How do you like that spunk, cuck?"

Oliver grabbed Trevor's penis and lovingly sucked the end after the smaller man had gotten the last of his sperm. Trevor rubbed his lover's head as he spoke

"Look, Oliver, his needle dick has shriveled again!"

Oliver looked at his husband's jeans. As expected, there was no apparent bulge.

He wondered whether Trevor's considerably larger penis made dominance so easy for him and whether it was more natural for the couple to bring a man like him in to satiate him sexually rather than attempting to change Alexander.

Even if he is sensitive and kind, and he loved him, could a man with a little penis really, truly bring that masculinity and enthusiasm to the bedroom? He was certain Alexander would understand because he was such an understanding man.

"How can you say it's shriveled?" Alexander almost shouted. Oliver was brought back to reality by his voice. It was firm and strong but seemed somehow weak coming from a man whose face was covered in cum, "You haven't even seen it!"

"Alex..." Oliver whispered, shaking his head knowingly.

"No!" Alex yelled, "This is bullshit!" Desperately, Alexander pulled at his jeans, removing his black belt, and began to unzip his fly. Quickly pulling down the jeans, he grabbed at the elastic of his boxer briefs and pulled them to the ground.

As Trevor's eyes fell on the fully erect dick, he let out a belt of laughter. Alexander stood there, prideful with his three-inch dick standing upright on full display.

Oliver with, Trevor's dick still in hand couldn't help but chuckle. He'd seen his husband's dick a thousand times of course but it never looked so small until this moment. He gave Trevor's dick a soft squeeze. He was so grateful bigger dicks existed.

Alexander's face flushed--his whole body warm with something that felt like humiliation, dragging claws across his chest.

The laughter was dying down, but the echo of it still rang in his ears. He didn't care that the Latin man standing above him laughed, but Oliver...

Something was shifting in him.

"Alright then," Trevor said with an insidious smile, "Since you're down there, I think your husband needs another seeing to. Why don't you see what you've learned and give it to him!"

"I don't need your permission to fuck my husband," Alexander said earnestly.

The blonde climbed up behind Oliver after stroking himself to his full length. With ease, he slid into his husband. He was shocked at how open he was. How many times had they fucked last night?

In an attempt to demonstrate that making love might be as exciting to Oliver as the big-dicked fucking he received the night before, he slowly moved his penis in and out. He felt an embarrassing feeling wash over his body. Even Alexander could tell Oliver wasn't feeling it. His had been stretched so open, his dick was barely touching the sides.

"I... I..." Alexander cleared his throat as he felt a lump beginning to build. This was all becoming too much. "I love you so much, Oliver."

"I love you, too, Alexander." Oliver smiled back at him. There was a familiar warmth there, "... that feels... nice."

Indeed, it was a comfortable and comforting sensation to feel his husband's soft torso on top of his, and to feel his penis as small as it was slowly going in and out of him. Now, however, he realized this was not fucking.

Trevor and the man at Cleo's had shown him intense passion and passion, something he'd forgotten existed over the years.

Oliver glanced at the ceiling as Alexander quickened his pace, his ass going up and down more quickly now.

Trevor was sick of this pitiful performance.

"Enough!" The man said with a sickened grin, "This is sad to watch."

He grabbed Alexander's shoulders and flung him away from Oliver. Easily, the man slipped out of his husband's hole.

"Alexander, you can't take a man like that for heaven's sake! You really are a cuck!" He cupped his shovel-like palm over Oliver's hole. Quickly, he began to finger the man's slip.

Oliver's body jerked in reaction to the Latin man's finger fucking. Even with his hole stretched, Trevor could still manage to make his hole tingle.

"Oliver, you're so lovely. Do you think your cuck husband deserves another lesson?"

"That sounds fantastic, Trevor!" Oliver said almost too enthusiastically, "However, I still feel sensitive from last night. I'm not sure I can manage it as roughly this time. It was okay with Alexander... but... your penis is significantly larger than his."

Alexander just sat there in shock. His Oliver even care how that comment might hurt him? Slowly, he backed up, and off the bed.

"I understand. Your hole hasn't been fucked by a real dick in years." Trevor looked to Alexander who had just stood up "Get him ready fag, and plenty of saliva. I don't want to hurt him."

Trevor pushed Alexander's face to Oliver's ass while raising the man's legs to a 90-degree angle. Alexander prepared his husband's ass by licking and probing as hard as he could, utilizing a combination of Trevor's semen still running down his face, Seth's moisture, and his own saliva. As he was buried in his man's ass he tried his best to hold back tears.

"I think he's ready for you, Trevor."

Without warning, Alexander was thrown off the bed by Trevor. Falling back, his head almost slammed against the dresser where the foodwas waiting above.

Trevor pressed his cock against Oliver's lubricated hole as he had his legs on his shoulder. Oliver quivered as Trevor began to penetrate his ass once again.

"Oh my, Trevor, it's too large! My hole is still so weak!"

"Be calm, baby! You'll enjoy it, even if it will hurt at first! Your ass is far from a little hole at this point!" Trevor laughed.

In Oliver's slit, he painfully pushed inch after inch of his monster inside. Finally, the whole thing had vanished once again. The strong pressure replaced the anguish of his anal's painful ringing with pleasure, and Oliver had never felt so full.

"Oh, that's incredible! Thank you, Trevor." Oliver leaned his head back. His hole was overly sensitive and he wasn't sure if he could handle a sixth deep fucking in such a short amount of time.

"Now, Oliver, I'm going to fuck your ass. Would you like it?" The Latin man asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, I do! Fuck my ass, please!" Oliver begged. He was nervous with the way his hole felt but he couldn't turn down that ten inch cock!

Alexander stared up at them from the floor. Alexander didn't move.

He just sat there, half-turned, pretending he wasn't witnessing any of this.

Using a hand to manage his dick and slap Oliver's ass, he began pistoning in and out of the man. Oliver let out an unimaginable sound, but didn't make Trevor stop.

"You want me to take your ass while your husband watches?" Trevor laughed, d looking back at the pathetic man.

"Yes! Oh God, yes, I want you to fuck me!" Oliver screamed. His hole was on fire! It was an overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure that seemed to radiate over his body. His own six inch dick was bobbing about, ready to burst at any moment.

Oliver and Trevor were close. Not just physically. The space between their bodies buzzed with something intimate. Something that made Alexander's stomach twist. There was a softness there. Familiarity. He looked... safe. Content.

And Trevor watched him with something close to affection. Not the smirk. Not the bravado.

Something real.

Alexander's chest tightened.

As if reacting to Alexander's internal conflict, Trevor picked up the pace. Oliver's eyes widened as he realized he was getting close to having his first anal orgasm.

"Will you let Alexander put his limp little worm in your ass like this again?" The man asked as he thrusted away at Oliver's slit.

"Fuuuuck" Oliver looked down at his husband, who watched them closely. He wanted to care. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to li, e but he couldn't. His entire body was screaming ".... no... NO! I need a big dominant cock... oh fuck..." Oliver cried out as his dick was beginning to pulsate, "I need a big dominant man!"

"Who owns your ass baby?" Trevor growled.

"Oh no, you do, Trevor! You own my ass!" Oliver whimpered. His fucking and foul words were driving him crazy! He loved every bit of this man! But it wasn't him. Not truly, it was his dominance, his energy, his masculinity, his cock! He wanted all of it.

That look--Trevor hadn't seen Oliver wear it for him in months. Maybe years. And that truth landed like a weight behind his ribs.

He hated them, in that moment.

But more than that--he wanted what they had. That heat.

He swallowed hard.

A part of him wanted to scream. Another part wanted to fall apart. But buried beneath both, shamefully undeniable, was the slow rise of something darker. Hotter. He watched the curve of Oliver's bare back, the way Trevor's cock filled every bit of him.

Why does this turn me on?

"Tell your boyfriend what you think of his cock!" Trevor called out

"Oh god..." Oliver felt the pleasure wash over him. His balls were tightening up, "I think it's a.... oh fuck yes..." the man screamed as he felt his orgasm building "I think Alexander's dick is a small... shriveled... sad excuse for a dick! I don't ever want that shit ever again!" he looked down at his broken husband, "Do you hear me? Oh god.... I don't want that useless dick!"

Oliver came as he finished the words, his feet straightening with curled toes and his torso bucking. Rope after rope of semen flew from his untouched cock, landing over his chest. Oliver yelled and arched his back, a mix of pleasure and agony mixed on his face. Trevor didn't care, he proceeded with his furious pounding. His unrelenting attack continued for a full two minutes before he eventually made it to the threshold as well.

"Yeah! Fucking whore!" He shouted as his body began to convulse again, "Take it! Take my fucking cock!"

Just as he had claimed Oliver's hole and demonstrated his control over his husband earlier, Oliver looked him in the eyes as Latin man filled his ass with his sperm. The semen began to spray out over the loosened edges of Oliver's hole. They both gasped from the effort of their strong orgasms, as Trevor's big body fell on top of Oliver's

Trevor watched. The tension between them, the low hum of desire that seemed to move without him--it made him feel small. Exposed. And yet... his own skin prickled. His pulse throbbed in his throat.

"Thank you so much, Trevor, it was better than I ever could have imagined," Oliver whispered into he dominant man's ear.

"I'm yours any time you need." Trevor solely pulled his dick free of the married man's ass. He smiled at him, "But judging by your needs, you're gonna need more than just my dick, that's for sure. I've been with a lot of men, but I've never been with one who's been so neglected in the bedroom."

Oliver laughed. He encircled Trevor's wide back with his arms more tightly.

An eternity seemed to pass between them before the pair even acknowledged Alexander's presence in the room.

"God, I don't know about you guys, but I'm SO hungry!" Trevor called out. He turned slightly to look at the husband who still hadn't lifted himself up off the floor, "The breakfasts are cold, Alexander. Put your shriveled dick away and go make some new ones."

The man waited there only a moment more before finally standing up. Quickly, he pulled his pants back up around his waist.

Grabbing the tray of uneaten food, he made his way to the door. He turned only briefly, y expecting someone to say something to him. But there was nothing. The pair had gotten lost in an affectionate kiss.

The door closed.

Not loudly. Just a soft click, almost polite. Almost gentle.

Alexander stood there a moment longer, waiting for Oliver to call out to him. Nothing

He didn't cry.

He didn't rage.

The hallway felt longer than it had before. As if the air itself had changed weight, shifted its temperature. The kitchen welcomed him with silence, the kind that no longer comforted.

He picked up the skillet. Rinsed the pan. Cracked more eggs.

Oliver ignored him. But not with cruelty. Not deliberately. It was worse than that. It was indifference.

His husband didn't need him in the room to have what they wanted. And somehow, that cut deeper than any betrayal.

He poured new juice. Added a little salt this time. Watched the yolks bubble in the pan. The sizzle of it filled the space where his thoughts had started to fray.

And still...

He couldn't stop thinking about how happy Oliver looked.

There had been something in his face--unguarded, open. The way his mouth softened when Trevor touched him. That small noise he'd made when Trevor kissed the corner of his jaw. Not just pleasure.

Relief.

Alexander hadn't seen that expression in years. Not since the early days.

He felt sick.

He felt alive.

He felt... hard.

It was maddening, the way his body betrayed him. Turned on not just by the image--Oliver taken, undone--but by the finality of it. The way he'd been shut out. Abandoned. Humiliated. And somehow, wanted more.

He plated the new eggs with precision. Set them at the table. Sat down alone.

He didn't know what the future looked like--whether this was the start of something broken or something entirely new.