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“Chew your food, don’t inhale it,” Devin cautioned when Mikal choked on a bite. Moon pushed his glass closer to his hand, which was all the prompting Mikal needed to take a drink, his face turning a hint of red before he got his breathing under control. “Damn, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but choking to death would severely curtail the activities I have planned for the rest of the afternoon.”

“What, you mean necrophilia isn’t on your list of favorite kinks?” Derrick teased.

Snorting, Devin nearly choked, forced to take a drink of his own to wash down his food. “I’ll pass on the ice packing, thanks, but I’m down for a good snow blow once the weather turns.”

Moon nearly fell out of his chair scrambling for the ice dispenser on the front of the fridge, hitting the button and letting a few pieces tumble into the palm of his hand. He put one in the cat’s water and gave one to Mikal, the two on their knees and crawling across the floor towards him, while Derrick blinked, clearly lost until he saw what they intended to do.

“Why wait for winter?” Moon asked.

“Snow melts much too fast,” Mikal murmured.

His being seated wasn’t a deterrent in the slightest and he was soon treated to what Derrick had been referring to regarding Moon and denim. The way he rubbed his face along Devin’s crotch, fixing him with beguiling eyes before easing the button open with his teeth then slowly unzipping him was smoldering.

Mikal fished him out of his boxers, the two moving in perfect tandem as Moon was waiting to slide his mouth over him and…

“Cold cold cold shit, fuck….” Gasping, he tried to marshal his thoughts, gripping the table when Mikal’s warm mouth slid over him after Moon pulled off. Sighing, he let himself relax again, only to yelp and bang his knee on the bottom of the table when they switched a second time. It felt like his brain was melting while they took turns driving him out of his ever-loving mind. Just when it felt like Moon’s piece of ice had melted to a sliver, he was reminded there was another piece. Now Mikal had the ice and Moon’s mouth was so not warm yet. Devin tangled his fingers in both of their hair, head thrown back, groaning because it was so, so good and yet not enough to cum.

Someone was licking his balls, someone else was sucking him, the entire front of his boxers was wet and he couldn’t give a damn. One of them hummed the opening bars of the last song they’d been working on and Devin lost it, growling, cursing, and babbling unintelligibly as he came, the moment made that much hotter by the fact that one of them sucked him through it, swallowing every drop.

He was still panting and trying to figure out which way was up when he cracked his eyes open to see Mikal and Moon making out, a smidge of cum slowly sliding down the side of Mikal’s face.

“Fuck…” Derrick breathed, mouth half hanging open.

Words were tumbling around in his mind, but none of them solid, most popped like bubbles on a summer breeze. Blinking, Devin watched Moon lick the cum off Mikal’s face, then crawl over to where Derrick sat, going up on his knees to kiss him, sharing a taste of Devin with him too. Somehow, he’d lost complete control of the meal and that was fuckin’ fine with him.

Moon was the first to resume his seat, a shit-eating grin on his face as he picked up what remained of his lobster roll. “See, now wasn’t that better than snow?”

“Was better than better than sex cake,” Devin remarked as he reached for his drink.

“Try saying that five times fast,” Mikal quipped.

“Better than better than sex cake, better than better than sex cake, better than….” Moon began.

“Okay, okay, damn, you truly have a talented tongue, ya know that?” Mikal grumbled.

“If there is any doubt in his mind, he can feel free to practice whenever he wants,” Devin muttered before downing the last of the liquid in his glass.

Instead of acknowledging them, Moon sing-songed the words again, only this time it sounded like he was playing with a rhythm. The fingers of one hand were tapping on the table, there was a faraway look in his eyes, and as Devin watched, Moon missed his mouth and wound up with mayonnaise smeared across his nose from his lobster roll.

He looked so surprised when it happened, all he could do was blink. Derrick passed him a paper towel, Mikal giggling while Moon wiped it away.

“Don’t stop playing with that,” Devin said, as he picked up what was left of his sandwich. In his head though, he was playing with varying rhythms, hard on each syllable, a little extra slap at the end.

Duda da duda da du da Duda da duda da du da

His hands itched for his drumsticks, shoulda known his little declaration about no work stuff at the table was gonna come back and bite him on the ass.

So soft and sweet.

Better than better than sex cake.

So wild and willing.

Better than better than sex cake.

Want you on your knees.

Moon sang the descriptors, but it was Derrick who filled in the repeated line, voice edged with a growl. Not a damned thing country about it at all. His cadence played out similarly to the drumline in his mind, leaving Devin with a bit of a dilemma.

Take his boys to the music room and sort out the song, or take them to the bedroom, and sort out the best way to sate their very eager appetites.