NOTE: This section is most definitely NSFW and includes an NC-17 M/M/M scene. You have been warned.

He was floating in warm water. His eyes were closed, but he could see the red-tinged glow of the sun through the thin skin of his eyelids. He knew if he opened them now, everything would appear whitewashed, almost dreamlike. He just wanted to lie back, float away, never come back–

“Beloved.”

A hand trailed along his arm, across his body, coming to rest inches away from his cock, which started to thicken in anticipation. Greg sighed at the sensation. He wanted the hand to move down, play with him, stroke him. Make him come so hard he’d scream.

A chuckle. “All in good time, beloved,” a soft baritone murmured. Greg smiled at that, trusting the promise in his lover’s voice.

Another hand crept up between his legs, cradling his sac, rolling his balls in what felt like a broad palm. He let his head be tipped back, water gently rising into his hair, and lips brushed against his, gently, then with more intent.

He gave into the kiss, licking into his unseen lover’s mouth greedily. Warm lips sealed against his, the foreign tongue mapping out the interior of Greg’s mouth as if taking ownership.

Unexpectedly, he felt another mouth on his cock, making him moan in surprise. A playful tongue teased the bundle of nerves just under Greg’s cockhead, licking further down the shaft, pausing just long enough to lap at his balls before coming back up again to wrap around the tip. What felt like a luscious set of lips tightened around his cock, then, suction increasing as the mouth began to move up and down in a sure, stroking motion that made Greg squirm with need.

As if one lover devouring his mouth and another his cock weren’t enough, someone’s fingers were now circling his nipples, gently tweaking them. He whimpered, torn between all the sensations.

“So responsive,” the baritone purred. “You’re beautiful, beloved.”

The mouth on his cock disappeared, replaced by a hand. “Not to mention delicious,” said a lighter tenor, chuckling. “We’ve searched for you for such a long time, Gregory.”

Two men. Eyes still closed, Greg gently struggled in their embrace, just so that he could feel their bodies against his. He hadn’t had sex with a man in over twelve years, and he’d never had two men at the same time. Anna had teased him about that, joking that he needed two big, strong lovers to sate his appetite–

Anna. The memory of his late wife seemed to bring a cloud over the sun, as the bright light beating down on him dimmed.

“You’ve mourned her for so long, beloved. Let us take away the pain. Let us love you,” the baritone said, before his mouth came down on Greg’s again, tongue eagerly sliding between his lips. Blindly, he sucked at it, listening to the other man groan at the sensation.

His other lover went back to work, one hand wrapped around the base as he suckled Greg’s cock greedily. The friction grew, hot and electric, reaching down into Greg’s balls and spine.

The man sensed this and shifted attention, sucking and licking the plummy head of Greg’s cock like a piece of candy while his hand sped up and down the shaft in fast, firm strokes. A tongue (so long, Greg thought dazedly, no one could have a tongue that long) dipped into his slit, tasting the precome there, then swirled under the ridge oh so nicely.

It was the last bit he needed. Greg screamed into the baritone’s mouth, arching his back as the orgasm punched from deep within, roaring through his balls and out his cock in a creamy gush. The tenor sucked eagerly, taking what Greg gave him, swallowing every drop and soundlessly begging for more–

Greg woke up with a gasp, staring blindly at the bedroom ceiling as he came. One hand was already under the waistband of his boxers, roughly stroking his spurting cock. It wasn’t nearly as good as the sensation of his dream lover’s mouth, but he groaned as he pumped out the last few dribbles of come, feeling it soak into his pubes.

“Fuck,” he panted, tilting his head back into the hot pillow. The endorphins faded a bit, bringing a bitter, self-mocking amusement in their wake. This was absolutely fucking ridiculous. Yes, he hadn’t had sex in over a year, but he masturbated often enough to take care of his needs. No 36-year-old man should be having wet dreams like this.

He grimaced at the sticky sensation. It didn’t help that it was the hottest wet dream he’d ever had. Grunting, he wriggled the boxers down, yanking them off and wiping at the mess matting his pubic hair. No help for it — he needed a shower.