John picked us up twenty minutes later and drove us to a small café not far from the site. The place was bustling with tradesmen getting their pre-work fix, the smell of bacon and coffee was strong.
John slid into the booth opposite us, looking suspiciously chipper. "You two look rough," he smirked, eyeing our tired faces. "Hard night?"
Wells snorted into his orange juice. "You could say that."
"Anything interesting happen?" John asked innocently enough. but his eyes gleamed.
I felt my face redden as I studied the menu, "Not really. Just a few beers, that's all."
He raised an eyebrow but didn't push further. The waitress arrived to take our order, saving me from having to respond. We all ordered the full English, and soon our table was laden with plates piled high with eggs, bacon, sausages, beans, and toast.
As we ate, the conversation flowed easily between us. It struck me how comfortable I felt with them both, despite everything we'd done and only knowing them just over two weeks.
After we finished breakfast we loaded up into the van and headed to work.
I noticed throughout the day- every time I bent over I could feel an echo of Wells' cock from last night and wondered if his arse felt the same.
By mid-morning, I found myself alone with Wells behind the half-built garage, both of us taking a breather after unloading a delivery of timber.
"How's your day going?" I asked.
He took a swig from his water bottle before answering. "Pretty good, considering I can still feel your dick inside me every time I move. "
I shook my head chuckling quietly, "Same. I wonder if anyone else has noticed us walking funny."
"Nah, we're subtle." he replied, "It's a weird feeling though, right? Not bad-weird. But, it's like my body wants to remind me what happened."
Before I could respond, John rounded the corner, catching us in our private moment. "Shame, I was hoping to catch you buried inside each other," he teased, his tone light, "Plumber Pete needs help moving the bath upstairs."
After work, John gave me a ride home like he usually did. I was in the mood for a chilled evening in. With Friday night looming, I anticipated a night out with everyone, likely involving a lot of drinking. So, I wanted an early night.
...
Work the next day seemed to crawl by, and as anticipated, around noon, everyone began discussing plans for the evening, deciding to meet at the pub at 8.
Wells, John and I met at around seven thirty at the pub and claimed our favourite corner, slightly secluded with it's own pool table and dart board.
Wells with a dart in hand, said "You lot better watch out," he twirled the dart with a grin, "I'm on fire tonight." He tossed a practice shot at the dart board, the dart landing with a hefty thud near the centre he winked at us and gave a mock bow. "I'll be taking bets if anyone dares," he taunted. "Might want to start planning your excuses for losing." He snatched up another dart, taking aim as John sank into a chair.
Just as Pete, Dave and Eric joined us. Eric precariously balancing a tray of beers between his hands.
Despite the physical difference, you could tell Eric was Dave's son. Dave, sporting that classic tradesman's physique, muscle layered with a healthy padding of beer, lumbered over to a barstool and dropped his weight onto it with confidence. "You lot couldn't hit the side of a bus with those darts," he scoffed.
Before anyone could answer, there was an immediate loud crack, as the barstool gave way beneath him. Dave went down like a felled tree, colliding with Eric on the way. Eric let out a high pitched yelp, as he wobbled with the tray of drinks. By some miracle of physics-or pure fear, not a drop was spilled as Eric recovered from being knocked with a graceless spin. Pete quickly snatched his beer from the tray, for good measure.
All around us the tables closest fell silent. Then we all lost it. I was practically crying, clutching my sides as Dave lay sprawled on the floor like a beached whale.
"Karma's a quick bastard tonight," Dave grumbled, hauling himself up with as much dignity as he could. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, ya bunch of wankers."
"Christ, Dave, next time go easy on the stools." joked Wells, earning himself a slap.
John wiped his eyes, still chuckling. "Eric deserves a medal for that save. I don't think I've ever heard a noise like that come from a grown man though."
Eric carefully set down the tray, his face the colour of a fire engine. "Fuck off, I saved all our drinks!"
With Dave back on his feet, we resumed our game. Eric, determined to prove himself, stepped up to the dartboard. His first dart bounced off the board and landed straight in John's beer, splashing it everywhere.
John, shook his head. "Nice aim, kiddo. But we're supposed to be hitting the board."
Pool games and more rounds of drinks followed. Mark and some of the other arrived and the conversation flowed easily, peppered with good-natured ribbing and work anecdotes. After a while, I excused myself to use the gents'.
The bathroom was small, with just two urinals and a stall. As I positioned myself at one of the urinals, I heard the door open behind me. Eric, stepped up to the urinal next to mine.
I heard the sound of his zipper followed by a gentle sigh of relief as he started to piss before making small talk.
I answered and despite my best efforts to keep my eyes forward, I couldn't help but glance over. What I saw made my jaw drop. Eric, small as he was, was packing some serious equipment. His cock was thick and long, hanging heavily as he relived himself. It seemed almost comically large compared to his slight frame.
I quickly averted my gaze, but the image was burned into my mind.
As the night wore on, the pub's air was thick with laughter and the scent of beer. Wells, still riding high on his earlier dart victory, had launched into an animated retelling of his latest worksite mishap, complete with exaggerated gestures and voices.
Dave and Eric were cracking up, tears streaming down their faces as Wells described his ill-fated attempt to impress Mark with his brick laying skills. Even Mark was chuckling, shaking his head as he confirmed how terrible it was.
As the clock ticked toward midnight, the mood shifted subtly. Pete glanced at his watch and drained the last of his pint. "Well lads, missus expects me home before midnight. Says I'm a right monster to wake up in the morning if I stay out too late."
"Lightweight," Dave teased, though he too was gathering his jacket. "Eric, you coming?"
Eric rolled his eyes but followed his dad's lead. "Later, guys. Thanks for the games, even if some of you cheat like bastards," he said, eyeing Wells with mock suspicion.
Mark was next, mumbling something about an early start.
One by one, they made their excuses and filtered out into the night, until only Wells, John, and I remained at our corner table.
John leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "So... you two fancy coming back to mine? Unless," he paused, his lips curving into a sly smile, "you're exclusive now? Wouldn't want to intrude on a budding romance."
Wells snorted into his beer. "Hardly. We're just..." he glanced at me, a half-smile playing on his lips.
"Having fun," I finished, feeling heat rise to my face that had nothing to do with the beer.
John's laugh was low and knowing. "Well then, my door's open if you're interested in exploring a bit more tonight."
The three of us exchanged glances, a silent agreement passing between us. Wells drained his glass. "I'm in if you are," he said to me, his knee brushing against mine under the table.
"Let's go," I agreed, my pulse quickening.
Outside, John pulled out his phone and sorted an Uber. "Two minutes," he said, his voice carrying a hint of anticipation. I swayed slightly causing him to laugh and hold me still.
When the car arrived, I slid in first, followed by John and finally Wells. The three of us pressed together in the back seat. As the driver pulled away from the curb, John's hand dropped casually to my lap.
In the dark he began to palm against my jeans, the heat of his hand seeping through the denim. Beside him, Wells inhaled sharply, and I knew John was giving him the same treatment. John's fingers traced the outline of my hardening cock, his movements subtle enough to go unnoticed by the driver.
"Comfortable?" John murmured, his voice barely audible over the radio playing.
Wells leaned his head back against the seat, his eyes half-closed. "Very," he whispered, shifting slightly to give John better access.
The journey to John's place took only five minutes, but felt much longer. By the time we pulled up to John's modest terraced house, I was painfully hard and desperate for more direct contact.
The moment the front door closed behind us, he spun around, grabbed Wells by the collar and pulled him into a hungry kiss. Wells responded immediately, his hands flying to John's hips. I stood watching, mesmerized by their intensity until John broke away and turned to me and then his mouth was on mine, his tongue insistent as it pushed past my lips. His kiss was different from Wells'-more commanding and rougher.
As we kissed, I felt Wells press against my back, his hands sliding around to unbutton my shirt. John pulled away just enough to murmur, "Shoes off, boys. I don't want dirt through the house house."
