GROUPWORK LEAD
He carried the whole damn project.
Laptop open. Notes organized. Slides half done before the other two even showed up. He sat shirtless in the café booth, fingers flying over the keyboard, jaw tight. The palm leaves outside brushed the window. Sunlight hit his shoulders and made them glow. He didn’t even notice. He was too focused.
Across from him, the other two lounged like it was a vacation. One scrolling. One half-asleep. Both watching him more than the screen.
“You’re insane,” one of them muttered. “How are you this good at everything?”
He didn’t look up. “Because I actually work.”
They smirked at each other.
He pretended not to see it.
By evening the presentation was done. Perfect. Clean. He leaned back finally, stretching, chest lifting slow. Sweat at his collarbone. Arms thick from the gym. Brain fried.
“You’re the best leader we’ve ever had,” the quieter one said, voice lower now.
He scoffed. “You mean the only one who does anything.”
The other slid closer on the booth. Their thighs touched. Not an accident.
“We appreciate you,” he said, softer.
The leader felt the shift. The air thickened. Laughter faded. The café noise blurred into background hum. His pulse ticked harder in his neck.
He liked control. He liked being needed. He liked when their eyes stayed on him too long.
Later, back at the apartment, the laptop stayed closed.
They circled him differently there. No pretending. No group chat jokes. Just heat. Just hands.
“You carry us all day,” one murmured near his ear. “Let us take over tonight.”
He didn’t answer. He just breathed.
They moved him to the couch like they’d planned it. Slow. Confident. He didn’t resist. He let them push him down. Let them grip his wrists. Let them press him back into the cushions. His leadership slipped off with his clothes.
“Relax,” the other whispered, fingers dragging down his chest. “You don’t have to think.”
He didn’t answer. He just breathed.
They moved him to the couch like they’d planned it. Slow. Confident. He didn’t resist. He let them push him down. Let them grip his wrists. Let them press him back into the cushions. His leadership slipped off with his clothes.
“Relax,” the other whispered, fingers dragging down his chest. “You don’t have to think.”
One of them, the bolder one, knelt on the floor and tugged his jeans and boxers down in one rough pull. His cock, already hard and curving up against his stomach, slapped against his skin. The bolder one wasted no time, leaning in to swallow him down, a hot, wet suction that made the leader’s hips jerk off the couch. A guttural sound tore from his throat.
The other one straddled his chest, pinning his shoulders, his own thick cock heavy against the leader’s lips. “Open up,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. The leader obeyed, his mouth stretching wide as the other fed him his length, fucking his face with slow, deep thrusts that made him choke and drool.
The bolder one worked his cock with one hand while his mouth did wicked things, his tongue swirling around the head, his teeth scraping lightly. The sensation was overwhelming, a dual assault of pleasure and submission. They found a rhythm, a filthy, synchronized dance of taking and being taken. The leader was lost in it, a vessel for their need, his own body a live wire of sensation. He could hear the wet, sloppy sounds of the bolder one’s mouth, the low grunts of the one fucking his face, the frantic pounding of his own heart in his ears. The bolder one’s fingers found his balls, rolling them, tugging just hard enough to send a jolt of sharp pleasure through him.
“You like that?” one asked against his neck.
He let out a broken laugh around the cock in his mouth. “Shut up.”
They didn’t. They picked up the pace, the thrusts into his mouth growing faster, more erratic. The bolder one’s mouth became a tight, relentless tunnel, sucking him with an urgency that signaled his own impending release. The one on his chest cursed, his body going rigid as he came, flooding the leader’s mouth with hot, bitter cum. The leader swallowed, his own orgasm crashing over him a second later, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself down the bolder one’s throat.
By the time it was over, he was breathless and spent, hair damp, body loose in a way it never was during the day. They lay beside him, smug, satisfied.
“Group effort,” one teased.
The leader rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.
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