Not guilt. Real.Jax pulled back just long enough to stand up and stroke his dick out—thick, veiny, leaking. Gay sex And Tre, seated near the mirror, stroking a fully erect, thick 10.5-inch monster of a dick, pierced clean through the head. The way the plug slid just a little with every stroke.“You ever ride wit’ that still in?”“Shut up,” Shawn hissed—but his voice cracked. Whispers of “Jax… fuck…” coming from his lips.Tre froze.Didn’t move. Like he was letting it linger.Shawn stood there, hard, aching, jaw clenched.He snatched his phone and typed fast:That lil’ mf just tried me. But if you need help not touchin’ yourself… get creative.Shawn swallowed hard.Turned to Tre.“One rule,” he said. Not after that.Phone buzzed again.Jax:I’m coming to the shop tomorrow. Just slow strokes getting deeper, wetter, filthier. Deep. I’m dealing with you later.9:17 p.m.Shop closed. He hadn’t taken a single sip of the bourbon someone gifted him at the ribbon-cutting. Deep breaths.
