Jack looked up and grinned. “Are you still watching?”
“I need to s-sit,” Mason stuttered. “The bed?”
Jack slammed up against his back so hard that Mason’s exhale became a cough. He shoved a leg between Mason’s, crooking it at the knee. “Lean.”
“Lean?”
“Lean back on me.”
He didn’t even question whether he should or not. He leaned back on Jack’s frame, his eyes glued to the mirror. Slowly, painfully slowly, Jack began to increase the pressure and speed of his grip.
“Ah, fuck…”
It was oddly overwhelming to watch his own body react to pleasure. Especially standing. Muscles tightened up in pleasing ripples, intensity did surprising things to expression, and the fact that the look on Jack’s face was softening from smug control to lip-parted interest was awesome. He didn’t seem to mind when Mason started to grind against him; his cock felt blissfully hard against Mason’s ass while Mason moved both into Jack’s stroke and then back against Jack’s body.