"Pair of aces. Beat that!"

"I'm afraid I can't," Booker said, slurring a bit as he placed a pair of twos on the table. "Rob?"

"Even worse." Robert dropped a handful of random cards on the table. He and Booker were stripped down to their skin, the slender younger man with a light sprinkling of ginger hair and the scarred, muscular older man sitting at the table with a mostly clothed Rosalind. They'd put a dent in a bottle of whiskey among them, though Rosalind had made a point of only drinking half of what Robert and Booker had.

"Well, Rosa," Robert said. "Neither of us have any clothes left to forfeit. You'll have to name your punishment."

"May I choose…anything?"

Robert looks shyly at Booker. "…what did you have in mind?"

"You—" she pointed to Booker. "And him. Together."

They stared at her, mouths open, then looked at one another.

"What?"

"Really, gentlemen. I shouldn't have to explain."

Booker looked at Robert and leered. "Well, I won't be the one to say that I went back on a bet. Won't be the first time, anyway. Things get lonely when you're soldiering. Though I never was on the receiving end."

"Rosalind, you can't be serious!"

"I am. Mr. DeWitt, you can advise on the logistics. I'm afraid I must insist that you be on the receiving end, though. I'm going to sit over here with a glass of whisky and watch."

Booker stood up, already half-hard, and took Robert by the waist. He brought him in for a rough kiss. Robert, with a glance toward Rosalind, returned the kiss, mouth closed at first, but then opening up his lips and taking Booker's tongue deep into his mouth. The two bodies, pale and tanned, were pressed against one another, Robert starting to press his stiffening cock into Booker's hips.

"Do you like this, brother?" Rosalind inquired.

"Yes. Yes."

"Do you want to continue?

Robert looked at Booker. Booker nodded and took Robert's cock in his hand and started in with a well-practiced rhythm. Robert gasped and closed his eyes. "Oh. God. I didn't think—"

"It goes in a bit easier with some spit on it," Booker whispered to Robert. He pushed him over to the couch and knelt down in front of him. After a slow start, Booker started to lick and suck with more confidence, and Robert was arching his back with pleasure and moaning.

"Mr. Dewitt, I don't think Robert's going to last much longer."

"Am I doing a good job, Madame Lutece?"

"Commendable, it would seem. Almost too good."

Robert stood up. "I'm game. How do we…do this?"

Booker looked around. "I could lay down on that table."

Robert nodded, and Booker walked over and hopped up onto the edge. Robert looked at Rosalind. "Haven't we…I mean…"

"On that table? Yes. A few times."

Booker looked at them both and smiled.

Robert walked unsteadily up to the table where Booker was waiting. He eased the tip of his cock in.

"Wait a minute, let me get used to that," Booker grunted.

Robert held back as long as he could, but then started thrusting, his face blank with bliss. Booker reached down and matched the rhythm of Robert's thrusts with his hand on himself.

"Oh – that's sweet – oh – oh, God –" Robert had his eyes closed and he was moving faster and using his hands to control the rhythm. "Oh – shit!" Booker rasped, his cock jerking in his hand and shooting thick cum up onto his bare chest. Robert felt the familiar tension building, then did the same into Booker, slowing his motions as the waves of pleasure receded.

They looked at Rosalind. "Was that what you had in mind?"

"Most certainly. Anyone for another hand?"

Booker smiled. "Only if you're on offer for this round, ma'am."

"I might be. Let's see how the cards fall."