Desperate Yue

Angel and lysandre have taken home a new boy

- All the character in here age from 16-20+, from the previous story you wouldve seen just angel and lysandre from their first time meeting. Yue is a 16 year old student who is non verbal and managed to get away with seducing angel, lysandre and the group (which i cant remember if ive introduced them all yet but ill get there). -

Late that night, the house had finally gone still.
The fairy lights downstairs were off. The TV murmur had faded hours ago. Only the occasional creak of settling floorboards and the soft hum of the fridge broke the silence.
Angel and Lysandre were in bed—Angel on his back, one arm flung over his head, breathing slow and deep; Lysandre on his side, facing him, hand resting loosely on Angel’s stomach under the duvet. Neither was fully asleep yet—just drifting in that warm, hazy space between wakefulness and rest.
The bedroom door opened without a sound.
Yue slipped inside—bare feet silent on the carpet, wearing nothing but one of Angel’s old T-shirts again, the hem skimming the tops of his thighs. His dark hair was mussed from tossing in the spare room, eyes wide and glassy in the faint moonlight leaking through the curtains.
He paused at the foot of the bed—watching them both for a long moment—then climbed up slowly, careful not to jostle the mattress too much.
Angel stirred first—eyelashes fluttering open.
Yue was already between them—kneeling upright, hands resting on his own thighs, back straight, staring down at Angel with that quiet, expectant blink.
Angel blinked back—sleepy confusion clearing slowly.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice gravelly with sleep. “Couldn’t sleep again?”
Yue didn’t answer.
He just sat there—still, silent—waiting.
Lysandre opened his eyes next—alert faster than Angel, gaze flicking from Yue’s face to his posture to the way his small hands were clenched in the hem of the shirt.
Neither of them moved.
Yue waited another beat—then leaned forward slightly, parted his lips wide, tongue flat against the bottom of his mouth, eyes locked on Angel’s. Blinking once. Twice. Patient. Needy. Silent.
Angel’s breath caught.
Understanding clicked.
“Oh,” he whispered—soft, almost reverent.
Yue stayed perfectly still—mouth open, waiting.
Angel exhaled—slow, shaky—then reached out, cupped Yue’s cheek with one hand, thumb brushing over his bottom lip.
“You want that?” Angel asked quietly.
Yue nodded—small, eager—eyes shimmering.
Angel glanced at Lysandre—silent question.
Lysandre’s gaze was already dark, pupils blown. He gave one slow nod.
Angel shifted—propped himself up against the headboard—then guided Yue forward with gentle pressure on the back of his neck.
Yue went willingly—kneeling between Angel’s spread thighs, hands braced on Angel’s hips—mouth still open, tongue out, waiting.
Angel pushed the duvet down just enough—freed himself—then guided the head of his cock to Yue’s lips.
Yue closed around him immediately—soft, warm, eager—taking him slow and deep, eyes fluttering shut as he sank down until his nose brushed Angel’s stomach.
Angel groaned—low, broken—fingers threading through Yue’s hair.
“Good boy,” he whispered. “So good.”
Yue hummed—vibrating around him—then started to move—slow bobs at first, then deeper, throat relaxing to take Angel all the way. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes again—spilling silently—but he didn’t stop. Just kept going—desperate, devoted, silent except for the wet sounds and the occasional muffled whimper when Angel hit the back of his throat.
Lysandre watched—propped on one elbow, breathing heavier now—hand slowly stroking himself under the duvet. His eyes were fixed on Yue’s face: the way his lashes fluttered with every deep swallow, the tears streaking down flushed cheeks, the small hands clutching Angel’s thighs like anchors.
After a few minutes—when Angel’s hips were starting to rock up in shallow thrusts and Yue’s rhythm was faltering from need—Lysandre moved.
He slid behind Yue—kneeling on the mattress—big hands settling on Yue’s hips.
Yue jolted—small, startled sound around Angel’s cock—but didn’t pull off.
Lysandre leaned down—kissed the nape of Yue’s neck—then pushed the T-shirt up to his shoulders, exposing the smooth line of his back, the curve of his ass.
“You’re doing so well,” Lysandre murmured against Yue’s skin. “Taking him so deep. Such a good boy.”
Yue whimpered—high, muffled—hips rocking back instinctively.
Lysandre’s hand slid between Yue’s thighs—fingers finding him already slick, already open from earlier want.
He pressed two fingers inside—slow, careful—curling them until Yue’s back bowed, a silent cry vibrating around Angel’s cock.
Angel groaned—head falling back against the headboard.
“Fuck—Lys—he’s so tight—”
Lysandre added a third finger—stretched him open—then pulled them free and lined himself up.
He pushed in—slow, relentless—filling Yue inch by inch until he was buried deep.
Yue’s whole body shook—silent sob around Angel—tears spilling freely now—but he pushed back—greedy, desperate—taking both of them at once.
Angel and Lysandre found a rhythm—slow at first, then deeper, harder—Angel fucking Yue’s mouth, Lysandre fucking his ass—hands everywhere: Lysandre gripping Yue’s hips, Angel cradling his face, both of them murmuring praise against his skin.
“You’re perfect,” Angel gasped—voice breaking. “So perfect for us.”
Lysandre’s hand slid around—wrapped around Yue’s cock—stroking fast and tight.
Yue came first—body locking up—silent scream muffled around Angel—spilling over Lysandre’s fist, clenching so hard it dragged both of them over the edge.
Angel came down Yue’s throat—groaning low—holding him through it.
Lysandre followed—burying deep, filling him until it leaked out around him.
They stayed like that—panting, trembling—Angel cradling Yue’s face, Lysandre draped over his back—until Yue’s breathing slowed, until his body went soft and heavy between them.
Angel pulled out gently—kissed Yue’s swollen lips.
Lysandre eased out—kissed the nape of Yue’s neck.
Then they pulled him down between them—cleaned him up with warm cloths from the en-suite—tucked him under the duvet.
Yue curled immediately into Angel’s chest—small hand finding Lysandre’s across Angel’s waist—linking their fingers.
He fell asleep like that—sandwiched between them—safe, sated, silent.
Angel kissed his forehead.
Lysandre pressed his lips to Yue’s shoulder.
And the house stayed dark.