Chapter 5

In the enchantment of the night, in their familiar bedroom, Jason fastened black leather cuffs around his husband's wrists. The world shifted, stirred, reformed.

The leather itself wasn't too complicated. Simon and Ben had opted for easy and relatively comfortable, no doubt under the assumption that Colby hadn't done this before. Jason grinned to himself.

That assumption was both correct and not. Colby had done a lot, with exes who'd been terrible Doms; he hadn't enjoyed most of it. Colby also did own soft leather cuff bracelets, more fashion than kink, with ties rather than buckles and rings; Jason had put him in those a time or two, cautiously. They'd liked that.

This, though…this wasn't fashion. These were meant for precisely this: the symbol.

He touched Colby's wrist, over delicate bone and skin. Tugged until the cuff fit, buckle poised. "How's that?"

Colby opened his mouth, didn't seem to have an answer ready, tried again. "That…yes, please."

"Not too tight?"

"No, I like…feeling it…oh." His eyes changed, as Jason did the buckle. Faraway, entranced, bliss in wondering sapphires. "Yours. You, putting these on me…"

"Mine." He wrapped his hand around Colby's wrist, over leather; tightened his grip. Colby outright moaned, on both knees on the bed. Jason told him, "So nice, sweetheart, so good, telling me how you feel, and you look so pretty, like this…all mine, no one else's, me putting these on you…"

"They feel warm." Colby's eyelashes swept down and up, fluttering. "Warm, and safe, and secure…oh, it's like scones. With cream."

Jason had to laugh, but only a little. "Should've guessed we'd get to food. I'm here to be your comfort baked goods, baby."

"Rainbow scones," Colby said, watching Jason take his other arm, wrap his wrist up in leather. "Colorful. Magical. Oh, I feel so good."

"I know," Jason said. "I can tell." He could feel it, could see it, in Colby's body: going pliable and surrendered and given over to him, and taking pleasure in the giving. "Come here, so I can play with you a little."

He got them settled in bed, himself sitting up against the headboard, Colby in his lap for ease of petting and fondling. His dick was a line of rigid need, and Colby's weight wasn't helping that situation; but this was about his husband, and Colby wanted to watch Ben and Simon.

Given that, Jason ran a hand along one smooth inner thigh. Colby spread both legs more, head on Jason's shoulder, breathing hushed and shivery with pleasure.

"So," Jason said, to Ben. "Show us."

Ben did not move much—a shift in posture, a straightening of shoulders—but all at once everyone's attention swung to him. Simon's, of course. Colby's, while being petted. Jason's. Hell, even the spaceship lamps perked up.

Ben said to Simon, "You know you like putting on a show. And you know I love that. Seeing you, like that…my good boy."

Simon nodded. On both knees, he was artwork: fantastical, luscious, wildly erotic in pale pink and black jewelry and exquisite eyeliner and tiny height and fearless desire. Ben said, "Over here. Hands and knees."

That was happening, this time. Jason knew it was. Colby shivered, in his lap: hips lifting, Jason's hand on his thigh, not touching his cock yet.

The distance wasn't far, and the rug was friendly. And Simon moved like artwork too: like someone practiced at this, motion laced into his body, part of him. Hands and knees, as ordered.

He settled at Ben's feet, and nuzzled against one of Ben's legs, feline and pleased. His face was—

Jason had seen that expression, or one a lot like it. That transcendence, freedom, weightlessness in submission. Giving of self, with joy.

Colby's eyes were huge, seeing it as well. "Jason…"

"You like that, baby?" He traced the edge of Colby's underwear, light tropical silk; he knew he was teasing, tantalizing. "You see how much he likes that, following those orders, right down there on his knees…"

Colby whimpered, hips twitching again. Jason set one large hand over that lovely hard length, the desire dripping and smearing into Colby's underwear, and rubbed. Firm, but slow. Deliberate. "You want to watch them. And you like it when I make you wait. Because you're all mine…all of you, including this…" More rubbing, his hand over expensive silk and Colby's desperate cock. "You want me to decide what you get to have."

"Yes," Colby managed, though it was mostly a sob. "Jason…oh, yes…"

"Good. You want to watch them, so watch. Tell me what you like."

Ben had paused for Jason to talk, but now said, "Simon." His submissive practically glowed, kneeling there, gazing up. "Consequences, we said. For you being a brat, earlier. And talking when I told you not to."

"Yes," Simon said promptly. "Yes, sir."

"Clothing," Ben said. "You, naked, across my lap. Leave the jewelry. Show them how well you can take it. And no, you don't get to come. Not yet. Only when I let you. Clear?"

Simon whispered, "Yes, sir."

"Good. Come here."

Simon lost clothing in a miniature whirlwind of pink and silver—untidy, but Jason didn't say anything; not important, not now—and stood there revealed and unselfconscious, a pocket-sized portrait of want. His dick was proportional and full and flushed with arousal, arching up from golden curls. He came to Ben, and settled across Ben's lap, hips up; the position trapped his cock between his stomach and Ben's leg, and Ben set a hand proprietarily on the back of his neck, guiding his head down.

Colby trembled; a pulse of slickness spread under Jason's hand. He kissed the top of his husband's head. "See something you like?"

"That…the way they look…" Colby's voice was shaky. "So…oh, so obedient…just like that, right where he should be…"

"Being good. Like you." He played with the edge of Colby's underwear, tugging fabric lower. "You could do that. If I asked you to get naked, over my lap, while I spank you…"

"I want…" Colby wriggled against him. "I could do that…like that…"

"You want me to do that right now?"

Colby shook his head, glancing at Jason, back at Simon, back at Jason. "I want to see…what that's like. Being…scolded. When it's good."

"Yeah." His own voice sounded hoarse. "Yeah."

Ben had, when Jason wasn't looking, used his own suit jacket as protection for the velvet of the chair lounge, versus Simon's eyeliner and glitter. Jason spared a second to appreciate that. Considerate. Ben was a good friend.

Ben had his belt in one hand, and Simon's wrists in the other; he was using the belt to bind Simon's arms above the cuffs, not hard, with obvious experience in the loops. Simon's cheek rested in folds of fabric, turned toward them; his lips were parted, eyes drowsy and ecstatic. Ben murmured, "There, you can feel it, you're all mine, taking what I give you, what you know you need," and stroked his back, down the length of his spine.

And then looked up, over at Colby and Jason. "Improvising a little—we didn't bring toys—but you could do that too. The point is the helplessness. No arms, no leverage…" He moved a leg, demonstrating, pushing against Simon's cock. Simon squirmed happily. "He could tell me to stop, and I'd listen, but he needs to be reminded. That he's not in charge. I am."

"Because he wants that," Colby breathed. "Because it's about…choosing that. But…punishment? I mean…you'll actually make it…painful?"

"Just enough." Ben rested a hand on Simon's ass, casually: pert curves used as an armrest. Colby's breath skipped. "I'm not going to hurt him. But he knew he wasn't listening—I gave him an order about behaving, and he didn't—so he wants me to remind him. Simon, jump in here."

"Oh, you want me to talk now, that's unfair…"

"Twenty, brat. And you'll count for us."

"Mm. Yes. Colby…" Simon, even stretched across Ben's lap, thoroughly naked, arms bound at the small of his back, sounded wonderfully satisfied, languorous and opulent. "I like being made to behave. I like knowing that I belong to him—I belong someplace, with someone, and it's him, and it's where I want to be. And sometimes I want him to remind me of that. So I want the consequences. The discipline. I want him to make me feel it. Even if it's sharp. Because then we'll have done it, and dealt with it, and we'll both feel good, after. Like, oh, relief. Cleansing. Does that help, darling?"

Colby whispered, "Yes." His eyes were saucers. He touched one wrist cuff, a spontaneous motion, almost unthinking. "I don't know if I could…not precisely like that, I don't want to do anything wrong, but…the belonging…feeling it…"

"Exactly that," Ben told him, authority a purr in that oak tree voice. The grey flecks in his brown hair answered the topaz and cream of the steampunk lamplight, a dream, an imagination, a taking flight. "Any other questions? Anything you want to know about?"

"Not yet…" Colby blushed. "We do own…that is, Jason bought…we have some toys…I like being made to wait, I like denial and submission, there's that cock ring, from, oh, goodness, the week Jason proposed to me…"

Ben laughed. "Even more full of surprises. And now I want to know that story."

"I like being his. Er…"

Jason knew exactly what his husband was about to say, and could've interrupted, and didn't. Ben could keep secrets.

"…I suppose I should admit this one…Jason bought a lovely antique paddle, in fact, we've tested that…I like feeling it…and the history, the weight…it's never been about punishment, though. Just…seeing how it felt. Sensation. Er…and, er, some historical duke and former tutor role-play…"

"But you like the actual feel of it," Ben said.

Colby nodded.

"Nothing hard," Jason said. "Nothing that'll hurt." He'd done a lot of practicing on his own leg.

"Not even a little hurt," Ben said, a question.

"I wouldn't do that to him," Jason said.

"Er…" Colby said. "I do like…feeling it…after…I might not mind. A very little. You could've done it a bit…more…last time."

Jason stared at him.

"Only a bit." Colby kissed his collarbone. "I don't like pain. Intensity, though…and I'd stop you if I didn't like something. I promise, love. I promise."

Jason exhaled. "I just don't want to…"

"I know." Colby kissed him again, certain as a vow. "We'll explore that one some more. I love you making me feel everything."

"And that's a good starting point," Ben agreed. "Watch us, kitten. I think you'll like this."

Jason snuck fingertips into his husband's underwear, finding hot stiff need, leaking slickness. Colby melted more against him, under Jason's control.

Ben lifted a hand. Brought it down. Hard.

The sound cracked across the room. Pinkness rose fast, scrawled across Simon's pretty little backside; Ben hadn't been holding back.

Simon answered, "One, sir." The curl of his mouth was smiling.

Colby seemed to have stopped breathing, eyes on that spot. Jason had one arm around him for support, and held on tighter.

Again. Evening out the pink. And again, with Simon's ragged velvet voice counting, aristocratic accent more and more frayed by pleasure and pain.

The sounds, the sights, suffused the room. Hand against heated skin. Steady rhythm. Control. Ben's arm, swinging in measured arcs. The blossoming of color in the wake of the impacts, like calligraphy, like writing, a system of secret meaning. Pink and red, as Simon moaned and squirmed and quivered in place. His fingers curled, straightened, arms bound in place.

Jason heard his own breathing, rougher. He was Colby's, entirely, but God, that sight. The yielding, the dominance. If that was his hand, and Colby's smooth skin…

They were up to ten, and Ben paused, and ran a hand over Simon's backside, feather light. Even that much contact must be heightened to exquisite amounts; Simon outright sobbed, legs kicking. "Shh," Ben murmured, soothing. "You're doing so well. Taking it so well. So good for me. For all of us, letting them see you, see how good you are, how you want to be…so gorgeous, like this. Pink and hot and desperate and needing me."

Simon's face was beautiful, transported, emptied of everything except rapturous sensation. The eyeliner was smudged, but that only made his eyes prettier, less polished, more human and surrendered and messy and not caring. He mumbled a blurry affirmative, hips rocking into Ben's leg. Ben petted him some more.

Colby was breathing rapidly, clinging to Jason, head tipped to rest against Jason's shoulder. His dick, in Jason's hand inside his pretty underwear, was so slick and dripping that he might've come, but Jason knew he hadn't. More touching, more fondling, then; Colby whimpered helplessly and pushed up into Jason's grip.

Ben's gaze crossed Jason's, briefly; he said, "You see how much he likes this, kitten? You see how good it feels?"

"Yes," Colby breathed, a small surprise since Jason hadn't been sure he was up to talking. Then again, Colby usually was; and Jason loved him for it, loved the rambling and the long legs and the secret delicious kinky side. Colby watched Ben's hand move again; they all watched.

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen; Ben paused for more soothing, to bend down and whisper praise in his husband's ear, hand brushing sweat damp blond strands of hair back. Simon sounded nearly incoherent, but answered one of the questions with, "Green, sir," and then, "Yes, feels good…love it, sir, thank you…being so good for you, showing them…"

Ben sat back up. "Checking in. We've done more, and harder—we own paddles, too—but I always check. And I asked how he liked you watching. He does. And he is, of course he is, being so good, showing you how well he can take this."

"So good," Colby whispered. "I feel…oh, that looks so…"

"You're thinking about it, aren't you, kitten? Jason's hands on you, reminding you you're his, so that's all you know. And all you need to know." Ben trailed fingers through a burning handprint. "You'd like to try."

"Oh God," Colby said, a gasp and a shudder. "Jason…oh, sir, please…"

"You want me to spank you, baby?" Jason kept his hand close around Colby's sweetly needy cock but stopped stroking for a second. "Like that?"

"Not—not now, but…I feel as if…oh, God, I might be…I might be so close…" Colby's cheekbones were also pink and flushed, a mirror. "Jason, if I could…come like this…hearing it, seeing it, imagining…oh God, please…" His whole body arched.

Jason had seen, had felt, the need. He could taste it: sex and sweat and sweetness in the air, Colby writhing in his lap, begging him, on the brink. God, yes. So good. Hammering in his veins, his muscles, everyplace he was holding Colby close. His.

He whispered, "Do you want to come like this? Watching them? Right here, in my hand, because you're feeling so good and so sweet and you just can't wait?"

"Yes," Colby pleaded, nuzzling against his chest. "Yes, yes, please…like the scones, the rainbows, everywhere…so warm, so bright, I feel so good, Jason, please…"

"You still want me to fuck you, after?"

Colby nodded, hazy and tipsy with want and beautifully serious all at once. "I want you to take me. To show everyone I'm yours. I want…I want you to fuck me, sir."

Jason could count on maybe one hand plus a couple fingers the number of times he'd heard Colby say fuck. The knowledge that they'd got there, that Colby was far enough swept up in radiance to say it, and to ramble about the scones and the rainbows and every word that flowed out, streams of consciousness, letting go…

"Yeah," he scraped out. "Yeah, of course you can have that. I love you. I love making you feel good. I love that you asked for that." Colby nuzzled a kiss into his collarbone again, and then just stayed there for a second, mouthing at him, tasting him, uncoordinated. Jason promised, "You can come when they finish, when Simon says twenty, and then we can show them how sweet you are, when you want me inside you," and got back to playing with him, fondling him, pulling Colby's underwear lower now, the utterly filthy lovely contrast of full dripping cock and seafoam pale silk and the innocent fuzzy sweater Colby hadn't removed and those leather kink cuffs.

Ben nodded to them, and got back to it. Only a hand, no toys, but that was enough; that was the brilliant lightning point center of the room, all that was needed. His hand, his authority, his marks on Simon's bare backside, while his submissive sobbed and squirmed and counted obediently, accepting every impact, every reinforcement.

Ben explained, at eighteen, "Sometimes I let him come like this. When he's been so good, and he deserves a reward. He will come, too, all over my leg, just from being spanked. From being mine."

Simon whimpered, legs falling further apart.

"Not today." Ben pressed fingertips into searing heat, leaving smaller marks, until they ebbed and filled in with pink. "This one's about what I'm asking of him. Might let him come after, though. After he's done taking it. Showing me—us—how good he can be."

Colby hadn't looked away, eyes locked on Simon's quivering hips.

"Two more," Ben said, and Jason commanded, "Baby, you can come on twenty, I want you to, I want you to show me how much you like this," and Colby murmured something that sounded like rainbows and magic and Jason's name, thrusting into Jason's hand, back and forth as if unable to help it, every sense—sight, sound, touch, his entire self—overwhelmed by desire.

Nineteen; Ben had centered that one, a sting right over the parting of Simon's upturned backside, over his hole. Simon cried out quietly, trembled, seemed to soften, going limp and languid, mumbling, "Nineteen, sir…"

"Jason," Colby breathed.

One more. Clear as starlight. In that same spot. Simon's voice answered with the number, obedient, counting as instructed, slow and thick as stained glass.

Colby barely made a sound, only a tiny broken coming apart, and he was coming: with permission, hips jerking, spurts of heat spilling all over Jason's hand and his own stomach and soaked silky underwear and even the violet fluffy sweater, splashing white, over and over.

He collapsed against Jason after, a few weak spurts still dribbling, body shaking with release. He was heavy and liquid and vanquished by ecstasy, lost in pleasure, knowing only Jason's hand, Jason's anchor, Jason making him feel good.

Jason held him, kissed him, told him he was wonderful, he was so good, he'd come all over himself and into Jason's hand, exactly what Jason had told him to do, exactly when. Colby's head rolled against Jason's shoulder, eyes open but dazed by brilliant shores. Delicious ones. With scones and sugar and cream.

Simon was sobbing softly, draped over Ben's lap; Ben was undoing the belt around his arms, talking to him, gathering him up for cuddles and kisses and praise. They fit together, brown and silver and pink and gold, shadows and light, stone and giddiness.

Jason himself felt a little lightheaded. That was…that had been…God, they'd really…Colby had come for him, on command, while watching a firm and powerful spanking, a show just for them, shared and intimate…and he couldn't stop thinking about that, about the evenhanded swings, the obvious mutual need, the comfortable well-known roles…and the way Colby had reacted, right there with them…

God. He wanted—needed, had to, ached to—bury himself in Colby, wrap himself up in all that sweetness and surrender, knowing Coby wanted that too.

He got out, "Do you two need…aftercare, or…"

"In a minute." Ben's hand had slid between Simon's legs; his husband was still crying a little, but looked up, supported by strong arms. And every line of his expression, the blueness of his eyes, held peace like the first fall of rain across waiting earth. "We're not done yet. And he's earned a reward. Simon, look at me?"

That look, the serenity of it, reassured everyone. Ben said, "You want to watch them, right? Jason giving Colby what he needs, filling him up all nice and deep, and you know how that feels, don't you? My good boy." He petted Simon's hip, considered redness. "Jason, if you've got some lotion, after…we weren't entirely expecting this."

"We've got good stuff. Stuntperson friend secret recipe." He was steadying Colby, touching the cuffs. "Works wonders. Colby, sweetheart, you with me? Say yes, if you are."

Colby blinked at him drowsily. "Yes. Jason, sir, will you fuck me now?"

"Completely yes," Jason promised, heart in the words. "How do you want it, baby? I know you want them to see you. In my lap, like this? On your knees?"

Colby hesitated. "I can't…Jason, I can't think much. You can tell me what to do. You know what I need…you always do…all my fantasies…this one, even this, coming true…you take such good care of me."

"Always." Always, always. Every single dream. Coming, like Colby'd said, true. "Can we get you naked, baby?"

Colby nodded, and held up both arms, simple and wanting, a request that Jason do it. Jason very happily did it, because he loved helping, he loved taking care of his Colby, coaxing subspace clumsy arms out of sweater sleeves, patiently freeing a wrist when the cuff snagged on a sleeve, lifting Colby up to peel off the marvelously useful pretty underwear.

He stopped for a moment, easing Colby back down into the bed, letting him lie down, drinking him in. The beauty of him, warm and bright. Rich dark hair flung out against night blue sheets. The glory of Colby's eyes, layers of blue and trust and faith in him, Jason.

Colby's gorgeous lean waist. Colby's spent but half-hard long cock, messy with climax. The temptation of the few scattered freckles, the one on his collarbone, the one at his hip. That one was a secret, because nobody got to see it, given the placement. No one but Jason.

And, now, briefly, Ben and Simon. Because Colby wanted this, had chosen this, had joyfully embraced letting a fantasy come true. Believing that Jason could hold him safe through it.

Jason would. He would, with everything he was. He swore that to Colby's wide eyes, watching him; he swore it to the temptation freckles, and the honeyed bedroom light, and the rugs with knee prints, and the steampunk spaceship bedside lamps. They took his promise in and witnessed it.

He found lube—not hard; it was sitting out, because while he'd cleaned earlier he hadn't bothered to put that away—and pulled off his own boxer briefs, at last, and took a second to stroke a hand over himself. Felt good. More than good. Like magic. Like Colby's rainbows.

Simon murmured something awed sounding. Ben laughed. "Yeah, okay, it is impressive. That's fair."

"Look," Jason said, getting back on the bed. "I'm not going around, like, bragging about it. But…y'know, Colby likes it."

Colby did, and reached for him, uncoordinated and joyful and floating on tides of submission and sugar. "My Jason. So nice. So good at taking care of me." He did manage to get a hand on Jason's dick, and stroked the length, fingers curling around girth. "So big. I do love that, have I said so? Big and strong and filling me up…I think I might come again. While he's fucking me. I love Jason fucking me. Did I say rainbows? Like that. But more like light. Through rain. So it's everywhere, glowing and bright and you can't tell where it begins and ends, dissolving…I like dissolving, like this, into him…"

Ben glanced at Jason. Jason explained, because he knew his husband, and he loved being able to know his husband, so well and so deeply, "No, that's normal, I promise. All the words, all the thoughts, just pouring out…that's how we know how good you feel, right, sweetheart?" He slid a hand along Colby's leg, and up: to the beckoning furled opening of his body, which welcomed shimmering lube and Jason's fingers. Colby was loose and easy everyplace, softened by submission and climax and pleasure. "So good, so sweet…everything just opened up and coming for me, all mine, all of you…"

"Yes," Colby sighed. "Yes, yes, yes, please…yours, please…"

"Come here, baby." He put Colby on both knees, considered angles, adjusted. If Colby wanted the claiming to be seen, Jason would make damn sure of that. He pushed the fingers back in, caressing plushness, crooking them at just the right angle. Colby did a little sort of airless scream, breathless, muscles rippling around him. Jason, behind him, kissed his shoulder, the line up toward his throat. "Feeling good, sweetheart? All mine, my hand in you, you feeling that?"

"Yes, yes…"

Ben had Simon in the circle of one arm, over on the velvet luxury; his other hand was stroking Simon's stiff cock, gradual strokes, purposeful. Simon looked a fraction more focused, eyes heavy but clearly admiring Colby's elegant long limbs, Jason's breadth, Jason's hands, one being support, the other busy stretching Colby for him.

This particular lube was a warming one, not scented but heating with each caress. Colby liked it, he knew.

He heard Ben tell Simon, low, loving, that he was allowed to come when Colby did. Because he'd been so good, doing everything they asked of him. Showing how good he was, and now helping Colby with this request, watching in turn. Fantasies fulfilled.

Yes, Jason thought. Yes. Exactly.

More kisses, his mouth on Colby's skin. A press of teeth, not hard but enough. Suction, friction; pinkness here too, undeniable, and Colby was so ready and so open, wanting more, needing him.

Jason held him, bent him forward enough, slid into him. The whole length, the thickness, to the hilt.

He heard Simon's tiny gasp, Ben's groan. He knew what they were seeing: Jason's cock disappearing into Colby's sweetness.

Colby had almost stopped talking, but not quite; scattered cries of yes and please and Jason's name tumbled out. He let Jason pull him more upright, on his knees with Jason's arms holding him up, Jason kneeling behind and fucking him with long deep thrusts, in and out, plunging.

Jason gathered him closer, found one of his arms, drew it up so he could grab Colby's wrist. The left one. His hand over leather. "You like this, baby? You wearing leather for me, me fucking you? And…look at that, baby…look at them, watching you. Watching this."

Colby looked, as ordered. And saw both sets of eyes on him, on Jason's bulk behind him, pumping into him. With Jason's hands on his hip, his wrist.

His hips arched. His mouth was open, astounded. Every inch of him shuddered in something near to infinite ecstasy. "Jason…"

"The way you wanted," Jason told him. "Your fantasy. Having someone see this, know this…how sweet you are, how well you take me, how much you're mine, all of you, the way you want to be…me filling you up and fucking you the way you like, so you can feel it and know it, and they'll know it too, that you belong right here." He let his other hand slide from Colby's hip to Colby's cock, full again, tender from the first orgasm and so much petting. Colby sobbed with pleasure; Jason knew it was pleasure, knew the feel of him, those responses.

He took Colby into his grip, thumb rubbing over sensitive flesh. "They're going to watch you come for me, sweetheart. From me fucking you, my hand on you. And I want you to come, so you will. Because you're mine to take care of. And I promise I'll always take care of you."

So good, so right, the tightness of Colby around him and in his hand, the weight of gazes on them, the knowledge that he could do this, could give Colby this—God, he wasn't going to last, electricity gathering and building and bursting—

He ordered, on the edge of it, "Go on, sweetheart, my Colby, come for me, for us—" and thrust harder, hips slamming together, pounding inside, knowing Colby would feel it, collisions incontrovertible as starlight and love. Colby practically shrieked, no words but wild pleasure, and Jason felt the short spurts of a second burst of release across his hand, wrung out by his demand.

The stars broke apart and white light shattered through him, or that was how it felt, all of Colby's rainbows in one endless rush, as he filled Colby up with himself, everything flowing between them.

He was watching Colby, and so missed the first gasp and cry from the chair; but he managed to look, and he thought Colby did too, though he wasn't sure Colby was completely present, blue eyes still awash in aftershocks.

Ben had kept petting Simon, faster and rougher, drawing him to the edge; Simon had been allowed to come as Colby did, and it was a long orgasm, drawn out, twitching and spasming, hips shaking. Pleasure and pain, Jason understood: Simon's freshly spanked skin against the fabric of Ben's suit, because Ben was, Jesus, still dressed.

Put together, except for the belt and the stains from Simon's cock over one leg. Shirt open, sleeves rolled up. Completely unruffled. While the rest of them had given themselves over to nakedness, stickiness, sheer abandon.

"Oh, we're not done," Ben said, "I saw that look, he gets one more reward," and actually pushed Simon back to the rug—but gently, hands ensuring a supported landing—between his legs, and opened his pants, and put a hand in Simon's hair. Simon opened his mouth eagerly—and it was eagerness, shining outward—and Ben pushed a nicely thick dark cock forward, all the way down, and fucked him like that. Hand in Simon's golden hair. Simon naked between Ben's legs on the floor. Ben in charge, holding in him in place, so that Simon could only stay put and take it, lips wet, eyelashes damp, but hips moving, rocking into the air, spent cock bouncing.

Ben whispered, "So good, giving us everything we want from you, I love you," and thrust, deep, and stiffened: coming, Jason realized, down Simon's throat.

Colby murmured something, cradled against Jason, Jason's dick softening inside him. Jason nudged the closest ear, under waves of hair, with his nose. "What was that, baby?"

"Love you," Colby whispered. "So much. Giving me this…I love you."

"I know." Jason eased out of him, as careful as possible; settled back in the bed, pulled Colby up against him. "I know you do. My Colby. I love you, too. So much."

He held Colby for a minute or forever, bathed in familiar light, spread out across familiar sheets. Their home, their space. Where they'd just done this. Together.

He could hear Ben saying quiet words to Simon, over on the chair. The words, the tone, were familiar, too. Understood.

He felt Colby move, against his chest. "You okay? Need me to—"

"Listening," Colby explained. "I like your heartbeat. You feel so good."

"So do you. You back with me, yet?"

Colby lifted a hand, wobbled it: yes, no, getting there.

"You can rest," Jason said. "I know it was a lot. I know. I'm here." He was. He always would be.

In the quiet, he imagined all their heartbeats, settling, calming. That look of serenity on Simon's face. The glorious billowing ecstasy on Colby's.

Feeling good, he thought. Like rainbows. Or rain. Or scones.

He got Colby to sit up, after a minute or so, and slid out to grab a towel or two, some water, some trail mix. They always kept a few small things around for aftercare; Jason liked to be prepared. He detoured over to share with the chair; Colby was propped up on one elbow, watching. He also brought over a spare jar of healing salve; they had a couple. Ben met his eyes, and said, "Thanks."

Simon, somehow still awake or awake again, peeked up from a sip of water and his husband's caretaking hands. "Colby?"

Colby sat up more, looking back. Jason came back to the bed and scooped him up for cuddling, reaffirming, skin to skin.

Simon said, "You have the best fantasies ever."

Colby started giggling, exhausted, well-loved, delighted. Jason held him and felt the same delight sink into his own bones, deep and golden. Forever part of him, now.

"I might," Ben said, "have to agree. That was…well, that was spectacular. All of it." He'd picked up a rainbow knit blanket—Jason did not mind; that was more or less the point of the blankets—and tucked Simon into it for warmth. "I'd say fantastic, but that'd be a terrible pun."

"Oh," Colby said, drowsily. "Yes, puns, please. Go on."

"Hey there, kitten." Ben paused. "So, talking. Were there scones?"

"I like baking," Colby said. "And I felt like scones. Home. Warmth. Cream. I don't know, sometimes the words just…happen. You didn't…mind, right?"

"Nope. Kinda fun." Ben looked up at Jason. "And you're in good hands. He knows what you need. Also, you know, what you said earlier…"

Colby blinked at him. "Which part?"

"I mean, not that we weren't, but I'm pretty sure we're definitely your friends now."

Colby started giggling again, and nestled closer to Jason, secure and protected and unembarrassed about wanting to be wrapped up in strength. "Oh yes. So much. Oh, everything feels marvelous. Sparkly. Like sugar. Crystals."

"You should stay," Jason said. He hadn't planned the words, but he meant them. Right there, on the tip of his tongue. "Tonight. I know you're staying at Simon's brother's place, you can head back tomorrow, but tonight…this…you shouldn't have to just get up and…I mean, if you want to, obviously."

"Oh!" Colby's eyes got even brighter. "You can stay for breakfast! We're very good at breakfast. Extremely. Eggs Florentine, perhaps, or omelets, I can do all sorts…oh, and I have a French toast recipe that Jason loves, with pear brandy sauce…"

"Why did we waste so many years not being friends?" Simon swept a weary grandiose arm toward the bed. "I could've moved in with you. Consumed my body weight in deliciousness. Pear brandy French toast every morning. Homemade mead."

"You're welcome any time we're around!"

"And you and I still need to do some shopping, especially now that I know you like—"

"We can stay." Ben met Jason's eyes, across the chatter. "And thanks. I think it'll feel good, after that. Staying here."

Jason nodded. After that, after everything. Staying close, not separating. Connection kept in place, and treasured.

"Probably not, though," Ben said, "in your bed. That's yours. Guest room?"

"Yeah, of course." He rubbed a hand along Colby's arm. They could use that breathing room; Ben and Simon could use that, as well, he guessed, for some emotions on that side. In his arms, Colby seemed fine, but would be tired; it'd been momentous, for him. Other people involved, and himself revealed, everything he wanted. Jason would be there to love him through any aftermath. "A little space for you, for us. After that."

"Equilibrium." Ben ran a hand through Simon's hair. "It's important."

"It's a nice guest room. We redecorated everyplace. Colby thought that room should look like some sort of forest elf palace. Not that I didn't agree. I like wood elves."

"Fantastic and romantic. Should be fun."

Colby, surfacing from shopping discussions with Simon—Jason had overheard mentions of a corset, cat ears, and what had sounded like a bread loaf-shaped dildo, and he had some questions for later—contributed, "I can also make scones. You know. Breakfast. I'm good at scones. Perhaps cinnamon. For the, er, spice."

"With," Ben said dryly, "lots of cream?"

Colby beamed at him.

"I'm never going to be able to look baked goods in the face again." Simon appeared unreasonably thrilled by this proclamation.

"And I live with him," Jason said. "My favorite kinky cream puff." Colby still had on the wrist cuffs. The night folded in around them, in the rainbow striped knit of the blanket around Simon and Ben, the tastes of trail mix and cold water and sweetness, the sturdy expanse of their bed and familiar sheets and the beloved shape of Colby in his arms.

He hadn't planned this, no. None of it. But it was perfect anyway. They'd brought it into life, shaped it, made it the night they all wanted, together. A fantasy, but better, because they'd done it. They had it now, jewel bright and real.

Everyone taken care of, he thought. Happy, and safe, and loved.

He kissed Colby's forehead, and said, "Scones and breakfast first, and maybe some shopping, after; sounds like you two have even more interesting ideas?"

THE END