commentary, his body was going to be on overload in short order. He hoped he’d at least get to enjoy his dinner a little before his systems went into shutdown mode.
As it was, everything turned a little hazy for a while. The server brought their wine and appetizer and took their dinner orders, and Jimmy poured Mikey a glass and fixed him a plate of olives, roasted peppers, and mozzarella balls from the antipasti platter. Mikey ate and drank and even participated in conversation, but he couldn’t have said later what they talked about. It all flowed over him like a gentle beach breeze, soothing and stimulating at once.
When their dinners arrived, they all made the proper “oooh” and “that looks delicious” comments, and as Mikey took his first bite, he had to agree “delicious” was right. “Amazing” would probably be more accurate.
Three bites later a hand came to rest on his thigh, just above his knee. Jimmy’s. Mikey turned his head to meet his gaze, and the simmering heat in his eyes set Mikey’s body humming.
“How’s the manicot?”
Jimmy’s voice was a low purr that undercut the other noises in the room and shot straight to Mikey’s dick. With a shaking hand, he reached for his wine glass and took a small sip. “It’s wonderful,” he whispered. “Just like you said.”
Jimmy squeezed his leg. “I’m always right,” he replied. “Might as well get used to that now.”
Where Cory normally would have snorted and snarked, instead he smiled widely. “He does know his pasta. We’ll need to wheedle him into making some for us one night. He doesn’t do it often because it’s a lot of work, but it is totally worth the trouble.”
“And he’s usually the one doing the cleanup, so he knows.” Jimmy gave Mikey one more squeeze and a lingering caress before bringing his hand back to his own lap. Mikey’s leg tingled from the touch, but he tried to ignore it, concentrating on his dinner instead.
Then Cory’s hand landed on his thigh, several inches higher than Jimmy’s had been, and Mikey went as limp as a cooked noodle. Except his traitorous cock, which went from mostly hard to “can cut diamonds now.”
Jimmy’s soft chuckle cut through the sensual haze. “Let’s give him time to finish his dinner first,” he chided, and Cory moved his hand away.
“Yes, do finish your manicot,” Cory agreed. “You never know when you might need those extra calories.”
Mikey told himself he couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips, but at least it served the purpose of embarrassing him enough that he could get a grip and turn his attention back to his meal. With neither of them touching him and only general, innocuous comments crossing the table, Mikey was actually able to enjoy the food.
As soon as he finished, though, all bets were off.
“Yummy, wasn’t it?” Jimmy leaned in to nuzzle his nose just below Mikey’s ear. “Almost as delicious as you.”
A second later Cory returned his hand to Mikey’s thigh. “I don’t know,” he said. “We haven’t had a chance to taste all of him. Yet.”
It was the emphasis on the last word that drove Mikey over the edge. He leaned into Jimmy, who had his arm around Mikey’s shoulders by then, and moaned against his neck, body on overload. He was no longer worried about walking out of the restaurant with a hard-on. He was worried about being able to walk at all. His legs didn’t seem like they’d want to hold him upright for more than a step.
Jimmy’s low laugh vibrated against Mikey’s chest. “I think our boy has had enough for now.” He shifted Mikey back toward his own seat. “Let’s behave ourselves until we get out of here so we don’t have to carry him.”
Cory’s huff would have made Mikey smile if he hadn’t been lost in a sensual haze. “Okay, okay.” Cory pulled his hand away. “Where’s that server so we can pay the bill?”
Mikey paid little attention as they waved down the server and settled the check.
As it was, everything turned a little hazy for a while. The server brought their wine and appetizer and took their dinner orders, and Jimmy poured Mikey a glass and fixed him a plate of olives, roasted peppers, and mozzarella balls from the antipasti platter. Mikey ate and drank and even participated in conversation, but he couldn’t have said later what they talked about. It all flowed over him like a gentle beach breeze, soothing and stimulating at once.
When their dinners arrived, they all made the proper “oooh” and “that looks delicious” comments, and as Mikey took his first bite, he had to agree “delicious” was right. “Amazing” would probably be more accurate.
Three bites later a hand came to rest on his thigh, just above his knee. Jimmy’s. Mikey turned his head to meet his gaze, and the simmering heat in his eyes set Mikey’s body humming.
“How’s the manicot?”
Jimmy’s voice was a low purr that undercut the other noises in the room and shot straight to Mikey’s dick. With a shaking hand, he reached for his wine glass and took a small sip. “It’s wonderful,” he whispered. “Just like you said.”
Jimmy squeezed his leg. “I’m always right,” he replied. “Might as well get used to that now.”
Where Cory normally would have snorted and snarked, instead he smiled widely. “He does know his pasta. We’ll need to wheedle him into making some for us one night. He doesn’t do it often because it’s a lot of work, but it is totally worth the trouble.”
“And he’s usually the one doing the cleanup, so he knows.” Jimmy gave Mikey one more squeeze and a lingering caress before bringing his hand back to his own lap. Mikey’s leg tingled from the touch, but he tried to ignore it, concentrating on his dinner instead.
Then Cory’s hand landed on his thigh, several inches higher than Jimmy’s had been, and Mikey went as limp as a cooked noodle. Except his traitorous cock, which went from mostly hard to “can cut diamonds now.”
Jimmy’s soft chuckle cut through the sensual haze. “Let’s give him time to finish his dinner first,” he chided, and Cory moved his hand away.
“Yes, do finish your manicot,” Cory agreed. “You never know when you might need those extra calories.”
Mikey told himself he couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips, but at least it served the purpose of embarrassing him enough that he could get a grip and turn his attention back to his meal. With neither of them touching him and only general, innocuous comments crossing the table, Mikey was actually able to enjoy the food.
As soon as he finished, though, all bets were off.
“Yummy, wasn’t it?” Jimmy leaned in to nuzzle his nose just below Mikey’s ear. “Almost as delicious as you.”
A second later Cory returned his hand to Mikey’s thigh. “I don’t know,” he said. “We haven’t had a chance to taste all of him. Yet.”
It was the emphasis on the last word that drove Mikey over the edge. He leaned into Jimmy, who had his arm around Mikey’s shoulders by then, and moaned against his neck, body on overload. He was no longer worried about walking out of the restaurant with a hard-on. He was worried about being able to walk at all. His legs didn’t seem like they’d want to hold him upright for more than a step.
Jimmy’s low laugh vibrated against Mikey’s chest. “I think our boy has had enough for now.” He shifted Mikey back toward his own seat. “Let’s behave ourselves until we get out of here so we don’t have to carry him.”
Cory’s huff would have made Mikey smile if he hadn’t been lost in a sensual haze. “Okay, okay.” Cory pulled his hand away. “Where’s that server so we can pay the bill?”
Mikey paid little attention as they waved down the server and settled the check.
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