Chapter 4

Their bedroom reached out bookshelf walls and graceful dark wood and Jules Verne spaceship lamps in greeting. Smooth amber poured into familiar corners, and nestled into the big blue-grey storm cloud rugs, and lit up the night.

Jason mentally thanked the universe that he'd cleaned yesterday. Neither of them was terribly messy, but Colby had a tendency to shed accessories—scarves, a book, a cardigan, a journal containing notes for the next genius screenplay—in random places, and then search for them later. Jason patiently put journals on the nightstand and hung up sweaters; it wasn't hard when it was only one or two items, and he knew Colby would remember eventually anyway, so he didn't mind doing it first.

He turned, glancing back. Ben had told Simon to get up, maybe reading something in Colby's face. Simon had beckoned Colby over, and was whispering dramatically, with hand gestures.

Ben cleared his throat, lightly. Simon looked that way, but Ben was looking at Jason; Jason said, "What?"

"You might want to ask yours a question first," Ben said, a suggestion, but one with authority behind it. "Your bedroom—your space—or a guest room? If we're doing this."

That…was a damn good question. Jason should've thought of it. He'd said bedroom, and Colby hadn't argued. "Cream puff? Come here."

"Cream puff," Simon echoed. "Is that because you like baking, or because you fill him up with—"

Colby gave him a wicked angel head tip, an invitation of eyebrows. "What do you think?"

"I think this is a dream I never knew I had coming true, and I do mean coming."

Colby's feet were soundless on the rug, moving to Jason's side. "Yes, sir?"

Jason took that in. "Are you going to do that? To say it, I mean." They'd done it before, mostly during some role-play scenarios.

Colby gave him the flirtatious eyebrows this time. "Possibly? I'll see how I feel about it. I love you."

"Love you. Um…location. Here, in our room, or the guest room?"

"Oh." Colby, standing by the bed, touched the duvet in wordless communion. This one was navy blue, mostly plain, but dark bronze gear wheels tumbled along a lower corner. Jason had bought it, though he'd mentioned it to Colby first. "I see why you'd ask. Ah…here."

"Really?"

"Yes. It's…" Colby lingered over the word, and finally just said it. "Safe. Ours."

Jason said, "Can I kiss you?"

"You know you don't have to ask, and yes?"

"Right now, kinda think I do." He caught Colby's face between both hands, gathered him up, drew him in. Colby tasted sweet, all berries and honey and coffee from the tiramisu, and was laughing softly. Jason drank in all the laughter, let his hands slide into the waves of Colby's hair, knew they had an audience, and didn't care.

Even deeper, in fact. Caressing, tasting, claiming. His tongue, his mouth, taking Colby's. Like his husband wanted.

When he pulled back, Colby's lips stayed parted, pink, shiny. Those night witch eyes had gone huge and darker with want. Jason put a thumb at the corner of Colby's mouth, deliberately pressing. "You can sit down. On the bed."

Colby did, so fast it might've just been a matter of his legs giving way. His dick was impressively hard, tenting his pants. Jason sympathized.

"That," Simon approved, "was splendid."

Ben put one hand around Simon's closest wrist. Squeezed until his husband outright gasped, though it was a good sound, from Simon's face. "Back on your knees. Right here. On the rug."

"Yes, please," Simon said, and knelt, hands behind his back, posture startlingly flawless for someone Jason'd seen walk into a table.

"So," Ben said, to Jason. "You're thinking basically what Simon said, before? Me spanking him for you, while you fuck Colby?"

Colby was the one who did the outloud gasp of want this time. Jason said, "Yep."

"Sounds good. Rules, first."

"Rules. Um…before that, I don't know if I need to say it, but I'll say it: you don't tell anyone." Jason couldn't help a glance at Simon, who looked down, at the rug and his own past faults, but nodded. "And I mean no one. Not ever. This is…" He tried to think of the right words. "Not just the obvious reasons. But those too. But…" He looked at Colby, back at Ben. "We're trusting you. He trusts you."

The weight of that was in Ben's eyes, brown and serious, granite loyalty to a mission, a love, a choice. "I'm good at keeping secrets."

Jason glanced at Simon again.

Colby said, "Simon won't tell anyone. Not this." Everyone including the person in question looked at him, Simon with the most surprise. Colby said, "He likes to talk, but he knows how much it means, when something's important. When to say something to someone who—who might need to hear it. Or to not say something, if someone needs that."

Simon's mouth opened. No sound came out. A flower of emotion opened across his face, and stayed there.

"I love you," Jason said to his husband, "so fucking much. You know that, don't you?"

The oceans of Colby's eyes got ever so slightly proud of that fact. "I know."

"If you ever need a favor," Ben said, "anything at all, in pretty much any country you want, you give me a call. What else do you have in mind?"

"Um…before anything else, I kinda want to hear everyone say yes out loud. Y'know." He touched Colby's shoulder; Colby leaned against him, trustingly. "Like, we're all good with exactly what we just said, no one's had too much mead, we know what we're doing."

Ben's eyebrows went up; but he looked at Colby and at Jason's hand, and nodded once. "All right. Yes, for me; Simon?"

Simon licked his lips. His arousal, if anything, had grown more blatant. "I do love a good responsible Dom. Yes, absolutely, I'm consenting enthusiastically."

Jason said, "Colby?" His hand, on his husband's shoulder, tingled. Electric. Anticipatory.

"I'm absolutely amazed," Colby said, "at myself, even saying it…but, oh, you have all told me to want things, and I do…so yes. As long as we can stop if I don't feel…up to more. But yes."

Jason had expected it—Colby'd asked for this—but that agreement, in that beloved voice, sent his heart into trapeze routines, and prickled lightning down his spine, and ached like the best kind of sacrifice, the kind in which he'd throw himself between his husband and any hurt, a shield, a guardian, no matter what.

He said, "That's my first rule." The lamplight traced gold through Colby's hair, and the night grew hotter. "Keeping you safe."

Colby smiled up at him. "I know you want to take care of me. Of all of us, really."

"I do. So we're making sure it works for you. First rule. No one touches Colby except me. Not debatable."

"Agreed," Ben said, no hesitation.

Simon raised a hand.

Jason sighed. "What?"

"What if Colby asks? Not that I expect it," Simon added hastily, "just trying to be clear on your rules, mountaintop."

Jason sighed again. "Colby?"

Colby jumped a tiny bit at being asked, not expecting it. That might've been Jason's fault, though he wasn't sure how. "Oh. Er…yes, please don't. Oh, sorry, that was confusing, wasn't it? Please don't touch me. If I do ask you to—and I'm fairly sure I won't—then it might be all right but ask Jason; he's the final vote. I'm not always the best judge of what I need."

Both Ben and Simon wore the same expression, for an instant; Jason recognized it. He knew it himself: the sudden under-the-skin needle of reminder; the truth that Colby had been hurt, and badly; the fierce desire to throw walls and portcullises and thick blankets around him, to never let any hurt happen ever again.

"Understood," Simon said, but kept the hand up.

Jason said, "What now?"

"Are you touchable?"

Jason resisted the urge to put a hand over his own face. "Are you joking, or is that a serious question?" He paused to eye Ben and throw in, "I do know about etiquette and not touching someone else's sub without permission, y'know."

"He's not just being a brat," Ben said, "it's an honest question. Like, if I give you permission, do you want to?"

"Oh. Um…" He wasn't the person to ask, on that one. He kneaded the back of his husband's neck, reassurance for any honest reply. "I'm yours, cream puff. What do you want me to do, or not do?"

"I…oh, dear, is it terrible of me to say I'd rather you didn't?" Colby did a little nose scrunch. He was even more visibly excited, liking Jason's handling of him: a darker spot was forming where the head of his cock pushed up against his pants. He always did get messy. Lots of leaking. Eagerness. "I think…I don't think I'd feel good about it. You with someone else, even just touching…I don't think I can do that."

"Good, because I'm not sure I could either—"

"Although," Colby went on, thoughtfully, "there might be an exception…if, say, it's Ben showing you something, adjusting a—a motion, or a hand placement, a grip…that might be all right."

"Ah," Jason said. "Okay, got it. You don't mind if your real life super spy gives me directions."

Colby outright laughed, an almost innocent ripple of sound. "Maybe."

"Did I mention," Simon inquired, "that I'm very into this?"

Ben said, "Sixteen," and raised both eyebrows at Jason. "You do both, then?"

Jason waved the hand not petting Colby. "Once or twice." That was true, though he also knew what he liked. "Not really a sub, but I can follow directions. I like giving people what they need."

"I do top," Colby said, somewhat unexpectedly. It was true, for a given value of true. Jason had a guess about why he'd said it. "Also once or twice. Or a bit more than that. Not our usual. But occasionally it feels right. Or he needs me to sit on him and order him to let me take care of him, for a change."

Jason said, "I like being in control, but I try to listen when someone tells me something."

"Yes," Ben said, now looking faintly amused. Jason wasn't sure what'd prompted that, and didn't want to ask. "I can see that. No wonder you're so good for him. Look, it's your house, and your evening; you're in charge. If you want me to offer some advice, say so."

"Colby's in charge," Jason corrected, "it's his fantasy," and tightened the hand a fraction on his husband's neck. This made Colby shiver with want, and the dark spot on his pants got bigger. "Okay, I think we've covered that. Um, standard stoplights, as signals? Red, yellow, green?"

"Safewords," Ben said. "In case someone needs to stop everything. Mine's Moscow. His is lettuce."

Simon contributed, "Reminds me of one of my aunts, you know." He looked perfectly contented, neatly on both knees at Ben's feet, hands behind his back.

Ben did not add to the count this time, only said, "Love you, and you can touch yourself, one hand, over your clothes," and watched while Simon grinned and began touching, as commanded.

Jason watched too. Couldn't help it. Colby was definitely watching, as Simon's hand moved, stroked, caressed the hard line of his shaft through fine fabric. Colby's lips parted, pink and mesmerized.

Jason said, "His is cherries, mine's crocodile. Colby…sweetheart, you tell me if you need to stop, or even if you feel like you might need to, okay? I need you to tell me." He curled his hand, big and heavy, around the side of Colby's throat: feeling the butterfly wing beating there. "Tell me you will."

Colby's voice was quiet but sure. "I will, love. I promise."

"Good." Jason thought this over, corrected himself to, "So good, sweetheart, thank you," and Colby said out loud, "Oh God, sir, Jason, yes."

"I like you saying my name." He ran a hand over Colby's chest, over the fuzzy sweater. Found a nipple, under the fluff. Teased it. Colby did have sensitive nipples, and his next breath came with a moan. Jason liked that, and did it harder.

Colby murmured his name, accent more floaty around the edges. Jason said, "I think that's everything, for now," and glanced at Ben.

Ben said, "One question, over here."

"Oh. Yeah?"

"Where do you want us? I'm going to suggest not your bed, unless you say so."

"Oh." Jason agreed with that, but—

The bedroom provided a helpful solution. They'd bought a couple new chairs the last time they'd been in London, mostly because they both liked unusual furniture, scrollwork edges and brass buttons and space to stretch out together and read scripts or roll Colby over for some role-play pirate-and-cabin-boy plundering. The one in the corner had some technical name Jason didn't recall, but in practice it existed as a couch/chair hybrid, asymmetric, opulently Victorian, dusky rose velvet.

Ben had followed his look, and grinned. "That'll work. And it's your size, so, lots of space. Actually, one more question. I think I know this answer, but just checking. Do either of you mind if I talk to Colby, some? Not touching, of course not, you two'll stay over there, but asking if he likes what I'm doing, along those lines."

Jason, also fairly sure he knew that answer, stopped playing with Colby's nipple to say, "What do you think, baby?"

Colby evidently needed a moment to focus, coming back from the flowing edges of subspace, not entirely under yet but feeling extremely good. "I think…yes, sir, I'm fine with that if you are. Not—not orders, that's you, I'm all yours, but I like being talked to. And talking."

"I know you do." For Ben, Jason added, "Right, Colby likes to talk, I mean that's sort of where it ends up, when he's feeling all sweet and soft and happy. I love it. Just so you know."

Simon, hand dutifully teasing himself, managed to give his Dom some impressively sassy eyebrows.

Ben said, "Oh, I've got plans for you," and dropped a hand to his belt, making the point. Simon licked his lips.

"Colby." Jason set a hand on his husband's head. "Two more quick things. First, you want us naked, yet, or just watching them, for a minute?"

"More the second option. But…maybe…you could be shirtless? Or…boxers? I do love the way you feel. So large, so firm, so…powerful. And…" Colby did a swift lip lick, not a retreat. "I could…lose the trousers, at least."

"Fuck yes," Jason said, "I love your legs," and yanked off his own Henley and threw it accurately at the hamper, and then his jeans. When he resurfaced, Colby had managed to wriggle clinging blue pants, and also constellation socks, off without getting up from the bed—Jason had told him to sit—and was now wearing only a fuzzy violet sweater and a pair of hip-hugging sea foam underwear.

The legs were glorious. Long and baby egret graceful and toned from swimming. Smooth because Colby liked Jason's hands on bare skin. Strong, because Colby did a lot of his own stunts and had a couple years of serious Krav Maga practice with Jason's best friend Evan by now. The strength got framed by oceanic silky underwear and the fuzzy sweater and Colby's messy waves of hair and big eyes. Jason wanted to push him back into the bed and lick him everywhere.

"Love," Colby tried.

The pretty seafoam-aqua underwear had more of a wet spot. Of course it did. Because Colby was rock-hard under there, cock dripping with want, spilling all over himself.

Colby said, "I adore you, you know, love."

Jason made a sound. It did not contain words. "Um…right. Yes. You. God, you're fucking perfect."

His husband blushed. Compliments did that. Jason thought they always would.

He said, "Last thing. You brought your present in here." Colby had; both cuffs lay on the bed, black against blue. "You want me to put those on you?"

In the background, Ben had quietly gone past him to the chair, and sat down, lazily powerful, assured. He had his belt in one hand. Simon, on both knees on the rug, was looking back and forth between him and Colby and Jason.

"Yes," Colby breathed. His voice was drenched with arousal. "Yes, please, sir."

"Give them to me," Jason said, "and hold out both hands."