Title: Sequel to the Untitled Prof/Student Novella
Author: Requests to remain anonymous
Pairing: JM/VK
Rating: NC-17 
Ed. Note: Also contains threesome with original character (VK's BFF "Johnny" from first fic, who you might choose to think of as Johnny Wier, the ice skater, as that is the body playing him here.)

The thing with Johnny didn’t happen for a long time; almost didn’t happen at all, in fact.

There was a moment that night, when the two of them were just doped enough to be leaning into each other but still sober enough to know they were doing it, and Vince pushed Johnny in the arm, giggling… then Johnny was suddenly stood up, hand on the door, ready to leave.

“Where are you going?” said Vince, frowning. He held out the joint to Johnny. “Can’t finish this on my own.”

Well, he could, but he didn’t want to.

Johnny looked at the joint, then looked at Vince, who had keeled over backwards and was lying on the floor with his arm still stretched out. He sighed and came and lay down beside Vince, taking the joint.

“This is a one time deal,” he said, sucking hard on the toke. “I’m not drowning in some pool of Vince lust like that friend of yours – what was his name, Jones?”

Vince did some more giggling.

“Man, what the fuck is a pool of Vince lust?”

The words stuck on his tongue, so he repeated them a few times.

“It’s what you use to kill people.”

“Me? I never killed anyone.”

Johnny rolled onto his stomach and looked down at Vince, very serious.

“You’ve left a trail of corpses.”

“Yeah, and you were the first. So how come you’re all alive and shit?”

“Not alive. I’m the walking dead.”

Then Johnny collapsed back onto the floor and laughed into the rug; the idea that Johnny wasn’t alive was truly fucking ridiculous, after all. You only had to look at him to know he was the most alive person in the whole of anywhere.

After a while – could’ve been a long while, could’ve been a few seconds – Vince’s jeans’ pocket started to buzz loudly.

“Shit, Jim…”

He fumbled for the mobile, which was ringing against his thigh like it was angry with him.

“Hang on,” he yelled at it. “I’m coming…”

Johnny reached over and plucked the angry little phone from Vince’s jeans. He winked at Vince as he answered it.

“Sorry, Vince can’t come to the phone right now. He’s naked.”

Vince lunged at him, wrestling the phone from his grasp. He held it to his ear.

“Jim? Ignore him. I’m, like, fully dressed.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Nooo…” It didn’t sound very convincing. “No, no, no… nooo…” That was more convincing, right?

“Doped, then.”

“Tiny, tiny, tiny bit.”

He never lied to Jim.

“Put Johnny back on.”

Vince pouted, but handed the phone back to Johnny, who listened for a second, said ‘Yes, sir’ a couple of times in the particular voice that he reserved for Jim, then hung up. Threw the phone onto the sofa and took a long drag on the joint.

“He said to tell you, he doesn’t share.”

“Share what?” said Vince, eyes fixed on the phone, waiting for Jim to magically step out of it.

Johnny shook his head.

“You are unbelievably dumb sometimes.”

“Why are people always saying that? And when’s he coming home?”

“Another few hours. He also said to tell you he loved you. And that what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Vince looked hard at Johnny – well, tried to. He was having some trouble focusing.

“Did he really say that?”

“No. He just told me to stay here and look out for you, because you’re an idiot.” Johnny leant over and planted a kiss on Vince’s forehead. A quick, dry kiss that made Vince blink at the space where Johnny had been. Johnny held the joint to Vince’s mouth, let him have one more drag, then took it away and pushed it into the beer bottle that was rolling on the floor by Vince’s head.

“Hey!” said Vince. “What d’you do that for?”

“I’m looking out for you. Now, come on and get some sleep before Prince Charming gets here.”

And Johnny got up, pulling Vince after him.

At first - when Vince and Jim had argued this way and that with Vince’s parents, and Vince’s mom had wanted to call the police and his dad had disowned and then renowned him, all in the space of an hour – at first it seemed like it was going to be impossible. To Vince, at least. He was just so exhausted from all the explaining and the pleading and the look on people’s faces when he said the words ‘this is my boyfriend’…

A lot of those looks weren’t surprised, either, which made him even more exhausted.

Johnny was never around, never came to see them like Vince asked, didn’t appear to be interested. Fair enough, he had said from the word go that they weren’t going to be friends. But sometimes, when Jim had tried his best yet again to cheer Vince up, to make him think that living in this shit-hole place, with these… people, was worth it because Vince was with his family – sometimes, Vince just wanted to talk to somebody who didn’t care if he stayed or went.

But Johnny always had something else to do when Vince phoned and, in the end, Jim did manage to cheer him up; made him spend time with his family so he knew how lucky he was, then picked him up and drove him to a completely different place, one where he’d park by the side of the road and remind him just why they were doing this. Mostly, it was more than enough. And the times it wasn’t, Jim would look so unhappy that Vince learnt to fake it, until the look of relief on Jim’s face was worth more than the fear and the doubt that Vince had pushed to the back of his mind.

After a few weeks in a very nice apartment, thank you very much, and several rows about how untidy Vince actually was and how anal Jim actually was, Jim had to go back to sort out the sale on his old place and wouldn’t let Vince come. Said it was a golden opportunity for Vince to catch up with everyone without Jim breathing down his neck.

“But I like you breathing down my neck,” Vince said. “You can do it now, if you want.” He wound himself around Jim, who was sat on the sofa, reading a book. Jim dropped the book and had Vince undressed and in his lap before it hit the floor; but he still wouldn’t let Vince come with him.

There were some things, Vince realised, that even Jim couldn’t face. Taking Vince back to where it had all gone wrong was one of them.

Vince was left alone for a week, doing some tutoring in the evenings, watching cable in the day. There was some father-son time with his dad at a bowling alley – beyond uncomfortable, but still, give the guy points for trying – and daily visits from his mom to bring food… and to check he hadn’t tied a noose to the banister and was hanging, blue-faced and swollen-tongued, in the stairwell.

A couple of days he even did some running, which was fairly enjoyable now he wasn’t trying to run away from anything. He liked the way he could feel the distance passing under his feet, and know he was finally getting somewhere under his own steam.

Eventually, though, he couldn’t stand it anymore, and rang Johnny. One more time, he reckoned, and then he’d give up on the guy completely.

“Happy birthday, dude,” he said when Johnny answered.

“That was last week.”

“You never invited me to the party.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Come over this evening? Jim’s out of town, and I’m bored.”

There was a pause.

“You don’t have to,” said Vince. “I get it, it’s ok.”

“What do you get?”

“That you’re still sore at me for ignoring you all those years. You’ve every right to do it back -,”

“Vince, just shut up. I’ll see you later.”

“Ok.”

“And Vince?”

“Yeah?”

“When’s my birthday, exactly?”

“Second of July. Exactly the middle of the year.”

Vince was going to say ‘why are you asking dumb ass questions that you know I know the answer to?’ but the phone was already dead.

Vince woke up with a start to see Jim looking down at him. At both of them.

“You’re here,” said Vince, and held out his arms like a child wanting to be picked up. Jim smiled and sat on the bed, let Vince wrap himself around him. He smelt of drive-thru coffee and aftershave, and he looked just like he’d done that night he’d first arrived at Vince’s house. Like he’d driven without stopping until he got there.

“Glad to see all your clothes are on,” he said, slipping a hand under Vince’s t-shirt and skimming warm skin with his palm. He glanced over at Johnny, still asleep and with his face pressed against his folded hands, like a fucking angel. “Glad to see his clothes are still on, too.”

“Are you gonna take mine off now?”

“In a while. I just want to hold you first.”

Vince wriggled over to give Jim space to lie down, and Jim put his head on Vince’s chest and did the thing he liked to do – check that Vince’s heart was still beating.

Vince did what he always liked to do – twisted his fingers in Jim’s hair and let the weight of Jim’s head press him into the mattress.

“Still alive,” he said. “Johnny’s been looking out for me.”

“On the bed.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Because he got to be with you, and I got to drive so far I was seeing double.” Jim looked up and yawned. “And then I come home and find I’m still seeing double.”

“D’you want me to wake him up? Drive him home?”

“No…” Jim sat up and kicked off his shoes. Pulled off his shirt. “Let sleeping beauty lie. He doesn’t take up much room and besides, it would be like throwing you out in the middle of the night.”

“Ok then. But remember, if you wake up with a hard-on and he’s still all angelic and crap, I don’t share either.”

“Shame,” muttered Jim, and crawled under the duvet. Vince, who was on top of the duvet, fitted himself around the quilted shape that was Jim, and giggled against it. Jim was back, his best friend was asleep next to him, and that dope had been really good. Things couldn’t really get much better.

When he next woke up, he was alone in the middle of the bed, and there were voices coming from the living room. He lay on his back for a while, arms outstretched, staring at the ceiling; letting the hum of words roll over him like a blanket. Then he forced himself to get up and see what was happening, because it was still only three in the morning, and he hated being left out.

Jim, looking crumpled and tired in some t-shirt he’d slung on, was sat on the sofa talking fast and low to Johnny, who looked… Vince couldn’t actually tell how he looked, because Johnny had his head sunk in his hands. Hiding from the world, which in this case was Jim.

“It’s going to be ok,” Jim was saying. “It’ll work out for the best, even if it doesn’t seem like it now.”

He caught sight of Vince and shut up. Put a hand on Johnny’s arm. Johnny glanced up and gave Vince an uncomprehending look, like he couldn’t believe he was there.

“What?” said Vince. “What have I done now?”

Jim rolled his eyes.

“Nothing. It’s not about you.”

“Oh. Well, good. Cause it usually is.” Vince came and sat on the floor by Jim, pressing his cheek against Jim’s knee. “Are you gonna tell me, or is it a secret?”

Jim put a hand on Vince’s head and sighed.

“He doesn’t mean it like it sounds, Johnny.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to tell me that.” Johnny raised a smile. “Vince never means what you think he does. That’s why he’s always so surprised when people fall in love with him.”

“Hey…” said Vince, who was still too tired to make a decent stab at arguing back.

Johnny sank back into the sofa.

“I’m leaving.”

“Now? It’s three in the morning.”

“Leaving home. Leaving here, this town. Going away.”

“You can’t. I only just got back.”

Jim’s hand pressed down onto Vince’s head. Warning him. Vince knew he was telling him what a selfish prick he was being, and knew he was right. He looked at the floor and muttered:

“Sorry.”

Johnny laughed.

“It’s ok, the world does revolve around you most of the time. Only, this time…” He glanced at Jim. “It’s me. And my ex.”

“What ex?” said Vince, suddenly aware that he’d never actually bothered to ask Johnny… well, anything. He didn’t even know if the ex was a guy – though judging by that time in Johnny’s car, or on Johnny’s porch, it would be a safe bet. Still, Vince was a bad, bad friend, and Johnny was looking like he might cry any second.

Vince put a hand out gingerly, not sure how to cope with this. It had always been Johnny coping with Vince, now he came to think about it. Johnny not talking about the things Vince couldn’t talk about, Johnny not touching him when Vince knew he wanted to.

“Hey, shit – you don’t have to tell me.” Vince withdrew his hand because he didn’t know what to do with it. “I don’t deserve – fuck, I’m doing that thing again. Where it’s all about me.”

“Yes,” said Jim. He stood up and stretched his arms in the air, and turned to Johnny. “Talk to Vince. It’ll do him good to listen for once, and it’ll do you good to make him.”

After Jim had disappeared back into the bedroom, the two of them sat in awkward silence. Vince wondered what to do with his hands, which still wanted to reach out and… pat Johnny? Give him a squeeze? He guessed he’d just got used to all the touchy-feely over the last few weeks. Jim dealt with every Vince sulk and worry by kissing him, then most probably screwing him. Seemed to work, too. But Vince didn’t think Johnny was going to let him do either of those things right now, so to keep his hands occupied he grabbed a cushion from the sofa and held it in his lap and found himself wishing for a whole lot more dope. With dope, there’d be that freedom to reach out to Johnny without thinking about it. But it was too late; no more party mood. Just him and Johnny, and Jim staying out of the way.

And Johnny still upset - and still leaving.

“Ok,” said Vince, his voice sounding too loud in the night time silence. “Come down here because you’re too far away.”

Johnny hesitated, then slid down onto the floor beside him. Sat with his feet planted on the floor and his elbows on his knees, looking for all the world like the fourteen year old kid Vince had left behind for cheerleaders and track medals. Someone Vince had never thought he’d get back again.

He counted to ten, then reached an arm around Johnny’s shoulders.

“Still too far away.”

Johnny shook his head.

“I can’t, I already told you…”

“Yes, you can.”

He moved closer and Johnny stiffened for a second, then gave up and let Vince pull his head down onto the cushion in his lap. They stayed like that for a while, until Johnny said:

“Why d’you love Jim so much?”

Vince started to stroke circles on Johnny’s scalp.

“We’re supposed to be talking about you.”

“You’re more interesting - always were. Anyway, tell me why.”

“Cause… well, lots of reasons.” Vince felt Johnny relax further into the cushion, and it was strange to have a weight on him that wasn’t Jim. Strange, but not bad. “I like how he feels when he’s lying like this, in my lap,” he said, surprised to find it was true. “As if I’m the one looking after him, when usually it’s the other way round.”

“You need looking after. What else?”

Vince thought hard.

“When we’re… you know.”

“Screwing?”

“Yeah… he’ll do anything – anything – I ask. But that’s not why I love him.” He wasn’t so sure Johnny wanted to know what he was thinking, but Vince wanted to say it. “It’s because he knows what I want without me having to say. So I never actually have to ask. Unless I want to, that is.” Vince grinned. “Because that’s kind of hot, too.”

Johnny stayed quiet, and Vince found himself rushing on into the silence.

“And he wants me so bad. Not just the screwing, but all the time, even when I’m being stupid or an asshole, or just plain irritating. He always wants me. Sometimes it’s like he’s crushing me, he wants me so much, and I can hardly stand it. Knowing that I can’t leave him because he’d never be happy again, and all I want is for him to be happy.”

“You’re trapped.”

“No. Well… kind of…”

“It’s ok.” Johnny shuffled onto his back and gazed up at Vince, studying him. “You’re a happy hostage. He’s made you… fuck, I don’t know. Brave.”

“Don’t feel it.”

“Yeah, well, my turn to be brave. I’m leaving this shit hole town tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? But, when you said you were leaving, I figured…” Vince frowned, working it out. Then pushed Johnny off his lap and stared at him. “You fuck, you weren’t even going to say goodbye.”

Johnny shrugged.

“You never did.”

“That was years ago and you forgave me.”

“Didn’t forget, though.” Johnny started to get up. “Couldn’t fucking forget, not with you living here, all happy and sorted, with him.”

“Sorted? Have you seen my life? My mom keeps coming round to check I've not slit my wrists, and Jim’s the one who sent her.” Funny how he’d just figured that out. “I only need looking after because I’m a complete fucking mess. And you said – you promised – this wasn’t about me.”

Johnny opened his mouth to argue, then stopped.

“No, it’s not, not anymore.” He looked away, as hopeless as Vince had ever seen him. “Shit thing to say to you… where are you going?”

Vince was stood up, holding out his hand.

“Back to bed. We’re no good at talking, so I've thought of another way to listen to you.”

“Vince, don’t.”

“Don’t you want to?”

He could see Johnny searching for the words. Not able to say no, desperate to say yes.

“What about Jim?” Johnny said finally.

“I love him.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, and it’s not about him. And it’s not about me, either.” Vince smiled, feeling brave for once. “This time, it’s just about you.”

Jim was lying on the bed in the dimly-lit room, waiting for them. He looked steadily at Vince and said:

“Johnny, why don’t you go and freshen up? I need to talk to Vince.”

Johnny let go of Vince’s hand and disappeared into the en-suite bathroom. Vince looked back at Jim.

“What happens,” said Jim slowly, “if I say no?”

“You get to give him a ride home.”

“That’s it?”

“You can fuck him in the back seat, if you like. If it makes him feel better.”

“A few hours ago you weren’t for sharing.”

“I changed my mind.” Vince crawled onto the bed and knelt beside Jim. “D’you want me to change yours, too? You know I can.”

He started to peel off his t-shirt. Jim knelt up too, helping him undress, leaving a trail of bites across Vince’s chest.

“How come,” he murmured, “your answer to a problem is always to screw it, or let it screw you?”

“He’s leaving tomorrow.”

Jim sighed and started to undo Vince’s flies, brushing cool fingertips over hipbones.

“If you ever ask again, I’ll lock you up in a cage. Never let you out.”

“One time deal,” said Vince, sucking in his breath as the fingers helped themselves to his cock. He closed his eyes. “I missed you so bad I could hardly breathe some days.”

Jim began to edge Vince’s jeans down over his ass, and Vince could neither help nor hinder; he let his forehead drop forward onto Jim’s shoulder.

“I missed this,” said Jim, one hand wrapped around Vince’s soaking dick, the other resting on the curve of his butt. “And this.” He dropped a kiss onto Vince’s neck.

Vince raised his head to be kissed some more, putting a hand over Jim’s and trying to get it to move at least a little bit. Jim pulled away and shook his head.

“But I want you,” said Vince. Whined, really. “Haven’t had anything but myself in forever. And now you’re here, and I need you.”

Jim pushed Vince’s jeans all the way down to his knees, then came and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“It’s not about what you want,” he said pulling Vince into his lap and facing him forward. “It’s about what he wants.”

And Vince realised Johnny was standing in the bathroom doorway, watching them with big, dark eyes. He started towards them and, for a second, Vince felt ridiculously shy, and hid his face in Jim’s neck. Never mind that all this was his idea in the first place. Never mind that he’d done worse with Jones and whoever Jones had found to play with him. There was something deeply uncomfortable about revealing himself, his real nature, to the one person who had wanted him to do just this and had known all along that, eventually, he would.

Jim stroked his cheek and said:

“Well, Johnny. How do you like your leaving present?”

“There’s still some wrapping left.”

Vince felt his jeans being tugged off, and then he was naked in Jim’s lap with nothing to hide his hard, angry cock. His need to be touched.

“That’s better,” said Johnny, “though I’d like a clearer view.”

Jim opened his knees wide – and seeing as Vince’s legs were straddling them, up they opened too, until Vince was laid bare. He felt a hand that wasn’t Jim’s – both of his were holding Vince under the thighs, lifting him slightly so Johnny could see whatever he wanted to see – and the hand ever so gently traced a line from the top of Vince’s cock, down to his balls, and away underneath where, suddenly, it was met by a sharp, wet tongue that wriggled its way inside with no hesitation.

“Jesus…” Vince let his head fall back onto Jim’s shoulder, and reached an arm up behind him and around Jim’s neck. His pulse sounded loud in his ears and he felt his whole body blush with a sense of panicky desire. He risked a glance at Johnny, who was now weaving a path with his tongue back to Vince’s cock, never taking his eyes from Vince.

“Is he all you remember?” said Jim.

Johnny pulled away slightly and looked Vince slowly up and down.

“He’s more than I remember.”

“That’s how I feel every time I look at him.” Jim turned his head to kiss Vince. “Every fucking time.”

And as Vince sank into the kiss, he felt Johnny’s mouth close around his cock and all his shyness disappear.

Johnny didn’t finish the job – at least, not that time.

“I like seeing you on the edge for me,” he said, leaving Vince’s poor dick swollen and wet, and throwing himself onto the bed next to Jim. “I want to make it hurt, make you beg.”

Vince reckoned that begging was almost a dead certainty, the way Johnny was looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes. He crawled off Jim’s lap and lay down besides Johnny, reaching in for a kiss. It occurred to him that he was the only one without any clothes on, and he couldn’t decide whether this was a good thing or a bad thing; but it was probably a Vince thing. Always giving it up for somebody.

At least this time, the somebody was Johnny.

“You can make it hurt,” he said, as Johnny’s hands were busy up and down his ass. “I’ll do anything you ask. Both of you.”

Johnny took him at his word and pushed a finger inside, making Vince gasp. Johnny looked over to Jim.

“Is he always like this?”

“Yes. That’s why you have to be careful with him.” Jim lay down behind Vince, pressing himself against Johnny’s hand. The heat was incredible; like the two of them were trying to melt him between them. Jim leant over and whispered in Vince’s ear: “Are you still here, baby boy?”

“Uh huh…”

“Then get up now and go find us some things to play with. Johnny and I are going to get better acquainted.”

Vince found himself upright, on shaking legs, and heading for the bathroom and the usual supplies. He blinked at himself in the bathroom mirror, and his reflection blinked back – a flushed, dazed reflection with swollen lips and those same, enormous eyes that had stared back at him on the video camera. He looked happy, though, and healthier. A new Vince.

When he got back, Johnny was peeled out of his clothes and Jim was arranging him with his face pressed into the mattress and his amazing – fucking amazing – ass high in the air. Jim shrugged off his own clothes and beckoned to Vince.

“We’re going to play with Johnny for a while. Seeing as he’s this pretty.”

Vince glanced at Johnny’s face, crushed into the sheets. His cheeks were dark red and his mouth open; Vince wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him so completely beyond control. Maybe he had, maybe he just couldn’t remember. Right now, though, he just wanted to touch him. So he watched as Jim kissed his way down Johnny’s spine and poked his tongue into his ass hole, until Johnny was breathing fast and hard; then he watched as Jim got himself and Johnny ready, making Johnny sigh. Then, just before Jim was about to inch inside – and Vince felt dizzy as to how easy he made it seem, this owning of someone else – Vince put a hand on Johnny’s back and felt a tremor run through his whole body.

“It’s ok,” he said. “I’m right here.”

Jim put his own hand on top of Vince’s, and began to fuck Johnny with slow, gentle strokes that made Vince want to crawl inside of Johnny’s skin and enjoy it along with him. To see Johnny’s pucker swallowing Jim’s cock, gripping it like Vince knew his own must…

“Oh fuck…” said Johnny, his voice ragged.

Jim hoisted Johnny to his knees.

“Don’t come, lovely boy. This is just getting to know you.”

Vince found himself staring at Johnny’s cock. A good, broad, man’s cock that he couldn’t place with the kid Johnny used to be.

“Go on, then,” said Jim.

Well, Vince didn’t need telling twice. He got onto all fours and arched his back so Jim could see his butt, if he wanted. Which he always did. Then he opened his mouth and tasted Johnny’s dick with a swirling, poking tongue that made Johnny swear. When Vince looked up, he could see both of them staring down at him, and then Jim’s hand reaching round… and forcing him back down to get on with the job.

“You still can’t come,” said Jim, as Vince let Johnny’s cock hit the back of this throat and Johnny yelled out things Vince had never realised he knew. “And Vince? That goes for you, too.”

And Jim got back to the job at hand.

It didn’t take more than a few minutes before Johnny was squirming back and away from Vince’s mouth, hands tangling in his hair. Hands that didn’t seem to know if they wanted to pull Vince closer or push him away.

“Stop… you’ve got to stop,” said Johnny. He might’ve been talking to Jim, or it might’ve been Vince, but both of them did as they were told. Johnny stayed very still for a second, Jim’s cock even now inside him, and Vince watched as he shut his eyes and bit his bottom lip until it turned pale and dark under his teeth. Jim reached round and tipped Johnny’s face upwards, swiping that lip with his tongue.

“You taste so very nice,” he murmured. “Though I think Vince already knows that, naughty child. Vince, why don’t you show me how you kiss Johnny?”

Vince knelt up and pressed himself against Johnny, so their cocks were lined up and crushed between them. So odd to have another heat and hardness throbbing against his own skin; so odd that it was finally Johnny’s, and that he was right there, waiting with parted lips and desperate eyes, waiting for Vince to kiss him.

“I love it when we do this,” Vince said, smiling. Making Johnny wait that little bit longer. “It’s like coming home.”

Johnny raised his eyes from Vince’s mouth and said:

“You should’ve never fucking left in the first place.”

Then he reached out and pulled Vince even closer, fingers caught in Vince’s hair, tongue deep in Vince’s mouth. Searching for something that Vince couldn’t hide any longer, because his own body was starting to shake from somewhere down inside. Like he was being laid bare as Johnny stripped away all the pretence and demanded that Vince show him the truth – and Vince didn’t even know what that truth was, only that he’d do anything for Johnny right now. Absolutely fucking anything.

And then there was Jim, sliding his hand between the two naughty children playing on his bed; gathering their wet cocks in his fist and rubbing them against each other very gently until it was almost unbearable.

“Stop now,” said Jim softly, as Vince began to hear the blood pounding in his ears. “Vince, lie down.”

Vince fell back, and found his whole body was trembling and the room was fading to black at the edges of his vision. He fought to hold on, twisting the sheets in his hands like they’d stop him from falling over a precipice.

“Jim…”

“It’s ok.” Johnny’s voice, not Jim’s. “He’s gone to get you some water. I’m here.”

Fingers laced their way through Vince’s, and he felt each knuckle tickled by a kiss.

“You’re so beautiful,” said Johnny, which was surprising enough to make Vince come back to himself. “I’m gonna lift you onto my cock in a while, fill you up. Show you what you’ve been missing all this time.”

“Might not last that long.”

“Oh, you can pass out any time. I kind of like you all vulnerable and at my mercy.”

Vince blinked up at Johnny, seeing him properly now. His words were so unlike what Jim would say, but the way he was looking at Vince with that adoring, worried expression… that was pure Jim.

Just fucking fantastic. Two of them.

Jim appeared at the bedside with the iced water and gave it to Johnny, who took a sip then leant over and put his mouth to Vince’s, letting the water trickle inside.

“Still awake, then,” said Jim. “That’s progress.”

Johnny held the glass to Vince’s lips, apparently enjoying the whole nursing scenario. He looked at Jim.

“Can I do stuff to him?”

“He’s your present.”

Johnny thought a while, then said:

“Can I do stuff to you?”

“That depends on what.”

“Well, this for a start…” And Johnny dipped his fingers into the water and slipped some ice cubes into his mouth. With an angelic look on his face, he knelt down on the floor and took a hold of Jim’s cock, letting it inch its way between his lips.

“You can definitely do that,” said Jim.

Vince stared at the two of them – Johnny’s lean body practically glowing in the lamplight, his heels digging into his ass as he knelt before Jim; Jim lost in a world of his own that, for once, Vince wasn’t part of. And the two of them only here together, in this room, because of him.

Jim’s hand came to rest on the back of Johnny’s head, and he looked down at the dark eyes that were gazing up at him. Vince saw something pass between them – not love, not that – but a kind of understanding. A recognition. Johnny, usually so determined and independent, was happy to be there, folded on his knees at Jim’s feet; and Jim was happy to… to what? To approve of him, to let him take what he wanted. Like he knew exactly what made Johnny tick.

Maybe the two of them had more in common that just Vince. Or maybe, Vince had been looking for Johnny all along, and pretty much found him.

“Vince, stop frowning,” said Jim, tugging Johnny’s head back by the hair and pulling him up to standing. He winked at Johnny, who was leaning into him, his lips red and wet. “He’s jealous, and he doesn’t know who of.”

Johnny gave Vince a sidelong look that made Vince’s cock and chest ache. It only got worse when Jim sat down, gathered Johnny into his lap and kissed him slow and deep, rubbing his thumb ever so lightly over the top of Johnny’s dick. Finally, he held the thumb out and Vince scrambled over and sucked it into his mouth. His lover and his best friend all at once.

“I love you.” The words just kind of rushed out of him, and he wasn’t sure who they were meant for this time. Everything was getting mixed up in his head.

Johnny was laughing, though.

“You said that to me before, you know. The night your sister walked in on us. Then you never spoke to me for the next three years.”

Vince flushed with shame. He couldn’t even remember saying it, didn’t know if he’d meant it. Couldn’t find the words now to make up for it –

“Vince, stop.” Johnny was out of Jim’s lap and holding Vince, pushing a lock of hair behind his ears. He glanced at Jim. “He’s always so… easy to hurt. I forgot.”

“I told you, you have to be careful with him.”

Johnny kissed Vince’s cheek; an odd, sweet kiss like Vince was a baby. It made Vince want to cry.

“I’ll be careful,” said Johnny. “Nasty, too. Because he likes that, as well.”

“Do I?” said Vince, knowing full well he did but wondering just how the fuck Johnny knew.

Jim stretched out on the bed.

“Tell him, Johnny.”

Johnny spoke into Vince’s ear, like he was sharing secrets.

“You used to like me telling you what to do. Even small stuff, like being naughty, going places we weren’t supposed to. If I told you to do it, you did.”

“It made you happy.”

“So you were trying to please even back then,” said Jim. Johnny reached a hand out to him, letting it hover over Jim’s dick without quite touching.

“He didn’t have to try. Though I don’t think he ever got that. And then later, when he used to stay over at my house and Mom left us alone in my room…” Johnny blushed suddenly and let his head drop onto Vince’s shoulder. When he looked up, his eyes were black. “I remember the first time I told you to show me your beautiful cock, and I was so scared you’d say no, get angry. I’d spent so long wanting to be able to ask you, and when you didn’t get mad, when you just let me look, then even let me touch it… and I knew the way you watched me that you liked it. Liked me making you do stuff.”

Vince remembered, too. Not that first time, maybe, but all the others, all merging into one; Johnny ordering him about, giving him no choice. Vince so relieved not to have one.

Jim took a hold of Johnny’s hand and placed it firmly on his dick.

“And what about you, Johnny? Did you like being in charge of my – our – Vince?”

“It was such a fucking high, I can’t even tell you. Though…”

“What?” Vince found his heart was thudding against his ribcage, like it might burst out.

“If you’d have asked, I’d have done near enough anything for you.” Johnny kissed Vince on the lips, and must’ve done something to Jim because he drew a sharp, pained breath. “No, not near enough anything. Just anything. Anything to make you want me, like I always want you.”

Some things, Vince reckoned, were better left unsaid. And some things needed to be heard, even if it was years later. When Johnny whispered his secrets – secrets that Vince had always known, really – it was like that final tight knot in his chest unfurled, and he could breathe free and easy.

“You can do anything,” he said, lying back and bringing Johnny with him, so he was braced above him, staring down. “And I promise I’ll want you, because I already do.”

Johnny sank down, resting his weight against Vince, covering him from mouth to dick. Vince let his hands wander over ridges of bone, a ribcage that was hard and skinny and somehow soft all at once. He counted his way down to Johnny’s hips, then spread his hands over his ass, just feeling the chill skin under his fingers. Johnny sighed into his mouth and shifted his groin ever so slightly.

They kissed for a long, lazy time. It was weird, but Johnny tasted of memories - each second they were touching brought a shard of a recollection from the back of Vince’s mind, and with that shard came the fear and excitement that was forever Johnny. A moment of hearing Johnny’s Mom climbing up the stairs, as Vince lay naked beside his best friend; then later, the rush of knowing they were alone together, and knowing that Johnny was going to ask him to do something, was going to want to feel and explore and hold. And even later, when they were beyond pretending anymore, and Vince felt ashamed and desperate when Johnny took his hand and guided it to his own cock.

It all ended up as one and the same thing in Vince’s head – a single feeling that it was all lost and done with, and that there was only this moment left and at the end of this moment, there was Jim.

He held Johnny, twisting and gasping in his arms, and slipped his fingers inside him until he closed his eyes and lay very, very still. Breathing in time with Vince, his heart thumping against Vince’s skin.

Jim slid his hand down Johnny’s backside and held Vince’s fingers in place. Johnny drew a breath.

“If you’re not careful,” said Jim, taking Vince’s hand away, “he’ll be finished before you’ve even done anything. Johnny, come here.”

Johnny dutifully wriggled over towards Jim, and was rewarded with a kiss… and one of the ice cubes held to his balls. He squirmed, but stayed put.

“Good boy,” said Jim, nudging him onto his belly. “Daddy’s proud. Now, don’t make a sound…”

Johnny didn’t exactly manage that next bit, as Jim rolled the ice over his balls, then pressed it into his hole. Vince watched as it disappeared, and watched as Johnny’s fists clenched against the pillow. Jim rubbed the sweat from the small of his back, bending his head to where the ice had been and licking the water away.

“Oh fuck, Jim…”

“Who?” said Jim, landing a slap on Johnny’s ass, which was so firm it barely moved.

He balanced himself over Johnny and let his cock drag along the crease and over where his handprint was burning red. Johnny’s fists were white with tension; he turned his head towards Vince and gave him a helpless look.

“Go on,” Vince whispered. “It’ll be ok, I promise.”

Johnny shut his eyes.

“Daddy, please…”

“What, lovely boy?”

“Let me be yours.”

“You already are mine. Because anything that belongs to Vince, belongs to me. Let me show you how.”

Jim pulled Johnny up and back, onto his cock, just as they had done before. Only this time, he stroked Johnny’s cock with lube, feather-light touches that made Johnny’s breath hitch. Then he motioned to Vince.

“You know how Daddy likes you to be. Let Johnny see you.”

Vince flushed, because this was something he’d never done in front of anyone but Jim; this opening up and exploring of himself when ordered. At least, he didn’t think he’d done it with anyone else. He couldn’t always be sure.

He came and knelt in front of Johnny, facing the head board. Of all the things he did with Jim, this was the one that was true fucking whore. Touching himself, so he’d be ready for Jim. Made him dizzy and shamed just thinking about it.

“Do you want Daddy to do it for you?”

“No, just…” he glanced round at Johnny, who was so ready for him, but who’d stop if he asked him to because – well, because he loved him. And Jim, who never let anything happen to Vince when he was with him, and tried to stop anything happening to him when he wasn’t.

Vince bent forward and let his ass cheeks spread, let Johnny see how he teased himself with his own finger until Johnny was literally fucking moaning. Then Vince, high from knowing two people were staring at him, got the lube and got ready properly with quick, stabbing movements that never quite reached his button but made him so hot and needy that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay upright.

He didn’t have to.

“Lie down so we can see your pretty face,” said Jim, and his voice was raw even though the words were controlled. He pointed to the space just in front of Johnny. Vince arranged himself before them, holding the backs of his knees so his legs were lifted and ready, and his bottom raised. He lay there, watching how Jim was moving ever so slightly inside Johnny, just keeping him on the edge.

Johnny let his head fall back against Jim.

“Do you get how lucky you are?”

Jim bit Johnny on the shoulder.

“Yes. Now, off you go, baby. Enjoy your present. Oh, and Vince? You’re still not allowed to come.”

And with that, he pushed Johnny forward with his hips, and Johnny was suddenly alone and between Vince’s legs and at long fucking last inside him. Pushing back on Vince’s thighs, kissing and biting wherever he could reach, struggling to make it last and desperate to make it end. Vince pressed his head back into the mattress, sheets blinding him. His hands clawed at Johnny, as that place inside him was hit over and over again.

Someone was calling Johnny’s name, and Vince realised it was him.

Johnny slowed down and steadied himself to long thrusts that had Vince burning up. He watched Vince with each stroke, smiling slightly when he made any sound; some as much from the ache as Johnny dragged himself back and forth as from the ache for more.

Johnny thrust harder.

“Does that hurt?”

“Yes, Jesus.” Vince looked for Jim, who was still behind Johnny. He nodded, barely, and Vince added: “Please don’t stop.”

“Not going to. You deserve this, good and nasty both. All the things you’ve done, all the people you’ve upset.” He reached down and pinched Vince’s cock between thumb and forefinger, at the same time rocking himself inside. Vince’s whole body went rigid and he fought to stay in control.

Johnny turned to Jim.

“Daddy? Can’t I see him come?” He let his legs fall wide. “You can help me.”

Turned out Johnny was a slut, just like Vince. Jim looked at the two of them, tangled in each other on the bed.

“Then yes, but only when I tell him. And you, too.”

Before Vince could register what was happening, there was a double weight against his raised legs, and Jim’s hands were snaking around to hold the base of Johnny’s cock so that Vince was seesawing against both of them. To be the focus of this much attention, and at the same time to be nothing more than a bad, punished child who wasn’t allowed to come until his Daddy said…

“Like this,” he heard Jim say, and Johnny’s cock speeded up and his eyes went darker than Vince had ever seen them, only soon Vince wasn’t seeing anything because he had to screw his own eyes shut to wait for Jim’s command.

“Now,” said Jim raggedly, from somewhere up above. “Come for me now.”

And as Vince felt Johnny’s hand close around his cock, catching everything Vince had to give in his palm, he also felt a warmth inside him, a shuddering against him, and he honestly didn’t know who it really was.

“I’m still gonna do stuff to you.”

Johnny lifted himself onto his hands and knees and crawled up the bed, where Vince was lying numb and happy with his head in Jim’s lap. Jim petting him with a gentle hand.

Johnny bent over him. He placed his palm, still sticky with Vince, on sweat-damp belly; rubbed circles against Vince’s skin, just brushing under his cock. Pushed his legs apart and explored with finger and tongue the places where his own cock had been. Told him he was beautiful… then swallowed down Vince’s tingling cock until it was hard and angry all over again.

“Feeling bad already, baby boy?” said Jim, putting his hand on Johnny’s head and pressing him down, so he squirmed and bucked against the sheets.

Vince tried to say something, but the words stuck in his throat. He gazed upwards, trapped between the heat of Johnny’s mouth and the blue of Jim’s eyes. Kind of a rock and a hard place of desire.

Jim stroked the pad of his thumb over Vince’s lips.

“Want me to make it ok?”

Vince hesitated; this was another thing he’d never reckoned on sharing with someone else. The way Jim dealt with him when he was feeling hopeless and lost in worry about… well, about pretty much everything. Usually when he’d seen his dad, and things hadn’t gone so well, and he’d come back to Jim with an ache in his chest and not knowing how, or where, to start. Jim would let him sulk around the apartment for a while, and Vince would snap at anything Jim said and glare at him like he just wished he’d disappear. And then, just when Vince was ready to launch himself into a full-scale row over some stupid little thing, Jim would say: “Want me to make it ok?”, and suddenly Vince would be bare-assed over his lap, counting out loud with an angry, hate-filled voice until his ass was hurting more than his chest and he was crying like a kid.

If it didn’t exactly fix things, it always made it ok.

“I’ll tell you what,” said Jim, leaning over to stroke Johnny’s face, even as his cheeks hollowed around Vince’s dick, “I won’t give you any choice in the matter. Either of you.”

With that, he gripped the back of Johnny’s head and pulled him up so he could kiss him.

“Ever been spanked before, Johnny?”

Johnny glanced at Vince, apparently deciding whether to answer. He lowered his eyes.

“Only by Vince’s dad.”

“What?” Vince squirmed out from underneath them. “You’re lying.”

“No.”

“My dad never touched you.”

Johnny shrugged.

“I was really rude to him this one time, told him to fuck off or something, and he just kind of lost it. Whacked me once across my ass – don’t worry, nothing dodgy, my jeans were still on – and it fucking hurt. Never really fancied it after that.”

Vince’s mind reeled.

“You… he smacked you? You told him to fuck off? My dad?”

“Don’t think it helped that he’d caught me looking at your dick.”

“He never caught us.”

Johnny leant forwards and tweaked Vince’s cock so that it stood up even straighter.

“He just never told you.”

“But why not?”

Johnny sighed.

“Because he loves you, I guess. He was trying to protect you. Which just makes yet another person on a very long list.”

Vince still couldn’t get his head round it. His father had known everything all along, had maybe even tried to stop it before it started. No fucking wonder he’d never liked Johnny.

“Feeling guilty?” said Jim.

Vince looked at him, trying to figure out if guilt was the right word. Truth was, he always felt guilty for letting his dad down. And as he’d known ever since he could remember that he was letting him down, he’d always felt guilty. So…

“Yes.”

“So you should. But you won’t need to by the time I've finished with you.”

Jim took hold of his wrist and tugged him off balance. Vince tipped over his lap and found himself struggling to get up, caught between acute embarrassment in front of Johnny and the immediate warmth that rushed to his dick as he realised he was about to feel Jim’s palm heavy on his backside. He twisted round and tried to push Jim’s hands away from him.

“Let me go.”

Because now wasn’t the time for this, not when his head was full of his father, and the things his father knew… and he didn’t want Johnny to see him like this, so confused and vulnerable and…

Jim held him fast with an arm around his waist. Let Vince flail for a second, his bottom heaving up and down uselessly as he tried to free his legs, then landed a slap across his crack that resounded throughout the room.

Vince yelped.

“Oh…” said Johnny, like he was understanding something for the first time.

“Come and hold his hands for me, seeing as he’s determined to make this difficult.”

Vince flailed some more.

“Fuck off!”

Johnny ignored him, came and knelt on the floor, gripping Vince’s wrists together, and Vince burned with shame. In no way was this making anything ok; he hated this. Hated it.

“Let’s get this over with,” said Jim, opening Vince up a little so Johnny could see better. “You know what to do, baby.”

Vince was about to tell Jim he could go fuck himself if he thought he was going to do the whole counting thing, when Jim’s fingers brushed against his balls, taking his breath away – and then another smack stung his lower butt cheek.

“One,” said Vince miserably, tears springing to his eyes like Pavlov’s bloody dog. But already the heat in his ass and the fingers wrapped around his wrists were playing tricks on him; already he was lifting himself up in readiness for the next slap, knowing Jim was giving him what he needed and Johnny was helping him to take it.

After ten, started twice from the beginning, Johnny said:

“Can I?”

“He’s still your present.”

Vince lay weeping, waiting for Johnny’s hand to descend on his ass; but Johnny let go of his wrists and sat in front of him, wrapping his arms around Vince’s neck. Kissed the tears away and stayed there as Jim carried on his assault. Vince counted each slap into Johnny’s shoulder until it was almost over, then sighed as Jim slipped his hand under his belly and fondled his soaking cock.

“Still guilty?”

Vince couldn’t answer. Too many things going on in his head and dick, Jim figuring large in all of them.

“Do you want Johnny to finish off?”

Vince nodded, because he reckoned if anybody was due a go at his ass, it was the best friend he’d ditched three years ago. Johnny settled himself back on the bed, legs outstretched. Jim helped Vince stand up, snivelling mess that he was, kissed him chastely, then guided him over Johnny’s knee. Vince lay there, his face pressed into the mattress, watching Jim disappear into the bathroom.

“Where are you going?”

His voice sounded panicked even to his own ears.

Jim paused at the door and said without turning round:

“I don’t like watching you get hurt.”

Which was weird when you thought about it. But before Vince could speak, Jim had shut the door behind him and there was a painful weight resting on Vince’s butt cheek as Johnny spread his hand over the reddened skin.

“It is going to hurt.” Johnny pushed down and Vince’s ass flared open. “But I’m here with you, so that’s ok, right?”

Vince just sniffed, feeling his cock poke against Johnny’s bare thigh. Johnny took it as permission and loosely gathered Vince’s wrists in one hand.

“How many are left?” he said.

“Twenty.” God, he wished Jim was still here. He felt like a piece of himself was missing. He glanced back at Johnny and saw he was nervous, which made him feel oddly excited. “You can do more, if you want.”

“No. But I still want you to count. It’s the hottest thing I've ever heard.”

And with that, he let loose over Vince’s butt with nasty, irregular smacks that had Vince bouncing this way and that in confusion. He slipped and wriggled on Johnny’s lap, Johnny’s sharp dick drilling into his side, his belly… wherever Vince landed. When he slid too far, Johnny would haul him back with three slaps in quick succession that caught his balls. Vince would fucking squeak, lose his place, and back they’d go to the beginning so the question of how many were left was pretty much academic. Johnny, it seemed, was as much of a stickler for rules as Jim, especially when it was Vince’s butt on the line.

After a few tearful minutes, Vince forgot to miss Jim. He was too busy concentrating, just wanting this over with… and, at the same time, he wanted it to go on forever. Each slap from Johnny meant something; one for leaving him, one for not speaking to him, one for not loving him enough. Johnny was forgiving him, he could tell by the way he was silent as he dealt his blows, and beyond that silence there was a storm of hurt and betrayal. 

And love.

Because when Vince finally came to the end of his counting and whispered: “Don’t stop, please don’t stop”, Johnny answered: “Enough now”, pulled him into his lap and held him sobbing against his chest.

They stayed like that until Jim reappeared with cream to smooth into Vince’s stinging bottom. He let Johnny do that, too, like the person that hurt Vince got to take it away. Vince lay on the bed, his sobs slowing to great, hiccoughing breaths while Jim stroked his arms. It wasn’t such a great surprise when Johnny’s creamed fingers found their way inside Vince; or when Jim helped to lift Vince’s hips slightly, holding him up so Johnny could just slide his cock in. Everything ached, everything burned, but it felt right to be offered to Johnny this way. And this time, when he said: “Please don’t stop”, Johnny said: “Never could, never will” and fucked him until Vince soaked the sheets and mattress and Jim’s hand, shouting both their names all the while.

After, Vince didn’t want to return the favour. He didn’t want to hurt Johnny and he didn’t want to have him under that much control. He liked Johnny just the way he was.

Besides, Jim did a much better job than he ever could.

He let Johnny enjoy a moment of lying inside Vince, shifting his hips slightly against sore skin. But before Johnny could gather his wits, Jim hooked a hand in his hair and dragged him up. For a second, Johnny looked like he was going to punch him, but Jim just tugged his head back and said:

“Ah, ah, lovely boy. You’re mine, remember?”

Vince watched as some of the fight drained out of Johnny, and he let himself be upturned over Jim’s knee. Arms outstretched, toes barely touching the floor.

“I’m not going to fucking cry.”

“And I’m not going to hold you down,” said Jim, as a bare bottom squirmed and fidgeted before him. “You’re doing this all on your own, or not at all.”

The bottom finally stopped moving and Johnny hid his flushed, confused face behind his arm. Vince knelt down in front of him.

“Please let me see.”

So Johnny dropped his arm and allowed Vince to look.

Jim waited a while longer, until the muscles in Johnny’s back were beginning to tense, and he was gasping slightly with the strain of keeping himself balanced. Jim drew a finger ever so slowly down his spine, travelling along his crease and pucker.

“See, Vince?” he said, lifting Johnny’s butt cheeks apart to reveal hard, high balls. “He likes it when you watch.”

Vince couldn’t resist. He reached over and trailed his fingertips were Jim’s had been. Johnny’s whole body stiffened.

“Jesus…”

“No, sweetheart,” said Jim. “Just Daddy.”

And he landed a smack next to where Vince’s fingers had come to rest. Johnny’s head flew back and he winced – but he stayed put. Vince sat back as Jim let another two slaps fall across the top of Johnny’s thighs, and watched the skin begin to darken. Johnny’s eyes flickered shut and he bit his bottom lip as if he was already struggling to stay in control. Vince knew that feeling only too well; the illusion that he could get through this without giving in to it. Jim’s steady hand always put paid to that, as well as the things he said as he worked. Like now. Letting Johnny regain his balance as he jerked forward, never touching him in between smacks, just murmuring in a quiet voice:

“It’s ok, Daddy’s got you.”

“He should be counting,” said Vince. “So he knows when it’s going to end.”

“He doesn’t need to know.”

Jim stopped his hand and let it hover over Johnny, and Johnny’s breath quickened.

“See?” said Jim, and then to Johnny: “Tell me what it is.”

Johnny opened his eyes and stared at Vince helplessly. It made Vince’s cock jump, and he closed his hand around it without thinking.

“I…” Johnny bit his lip again. “Don’t…”

“Tell me what you need.”

This time, all the fight went out of Johnny.

“You.”

Jim slapped him sharply and Johnny sighed.

“You, Daddy.”

Vince knelt up so he could let his hand work his cock properly in time to Jim’s smacks, which now came thick and fast. Johnny wasn’t even trying to pretend anymore; he lifted his beautiful ass as soon as the last slap had ended, raising it high in the air in search of Jim’s hand.

“Please, Daddy,” he said in a choked voice. “Again.”

Which was why, Vince realised, he didn’t need to count.

Jim paused again, watching what Vince was doing as his own hand rested on Johnny’s behind. He beckoned to Vince, who shuffled forwards, and they kissed for a while with Johnny beneath them.

“I did so miss you, baby boy,” Jim murmured, guiding Vince’s hand away from his cock and onto Johnny, where the hot skin twitched under his fingertips. “Do you want to take over? I think he’d cry for you.”

Vince shook his head.

“Then let him do something with this,” said Jim, tapping Vince’s cock. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you Johnny? Daddy at one end, our baby at the other.”

Johnny didn’t answer; just turned his head slightly and gave Vince a look of mute appeal. Vince moved round and settled himself before him, his cock wet and hard against Johnny’s lips. He watched as Jim tugged Johnny’s head back by the hair, and those lips fell open, then closed around the head of Vince’s dick. At the same time, Jim let the smacks start to fall again and with each slap Vince was treated to Johnny’s shocked, desperate expression as his mouth filled with cock.

“There you are,” said Jim quietly, as Johnny’s bottom flew higher and his head fell forwards. “Show Daddy what a good boy you are.”

Johnny raised himself even higher, struggling to keep Vince’s dick in his mouth, licking and sucking at it like he was trying so hard to please him. Vince fought to stay in control – the sight of Johnny so bewildered and needy was stirring something deep inside him. He wanted to reach out and comfort him, and at the same time, he wanted to see him beg. And cry.

“Slap him harder,” he said suddenly.

Johnny’s eyes went black.

Jim just nodded, and redoubled his blows. Vince put both his hands on Johnny’s head and held it down.

“This is what you always wanted, isn’t it? Me, making you. And you getting what you deserve for wanting me so much.”

And where the fuck were those words coming from? They seemed to work, though, because Vince felt Johnny’s throat close around his cock and saw a look of utter acquiescence – at least, he thought that was the right word – cross Johnny’s face.

“And you do deserve it,” Vince went on, unable to stop himself now. “For all the things you made me do, all the times you looked at me, when you knew you shouldn’t.”

He began to thrust his hips ever so slightly against Johnny now, his dick growing larger with the sound of Jim’s palm resonating against Johnny’s skin – and the feel of Johnny’s mouth, wet and burning around him. And Johnny wriggled, humping against Jim’s knee so that Jim was always presented with his target, and struggling around Vince’s cock.

“And do you know why you deserve it most of all?” said Vince, fisting his hands in Johnny’s hair. “Because you made me want you, all the time. So bad that it got so I couldn’t help myself… still can’t.”

He felt Johnny shudder under his hands, and saw that Jim was not just slapping him, but also stroking his cock as the blow came down.

“Good boy,” he said, administering both pain and pleasure. “See what you get when you’re mine?”

He glanced over at Vince.

“You get my baby’s lovely cock in your mouth.”

Vince felt his nerve ends tingle at the sound of Jim’s voice. He stilled, only just holding on.

“Ask nicely,” said Jim.

“Please, Daddy?”

“If you promise to stay still.”

Jim dealt a smack that sent Johnny jolting forward, choking and gasping, swallowing. Vince tensed, watching as Jim tugged at Johnny’s cock and slipped fingers inside him; he felt his orgasm rush out of him and he had to dig his fingers into Johnny’s scalp to stop himself from pumping his hips. Johnny’s throat worked as he took what Vince gave him, and that sight almost sent Vince straight back to square one.

He sank down onto the floor, and realised Johnny was sobbing.

“Shit, I hurt you.”

“No you didn’t,” said Jim, giving Johnny’s ass one last tap before helping him up. “Come and see where he did get hurt.”

He made Johnny kneel on the bed, legs wide, and Vince inspected his poor, rosy bottom. Johnny wept. Held himself open as Jim stroked lube into his ass hole, then whimpered when Vince was sent into the bathroom to retrieve one of Jim’s nastier toys.

“You can do the honours,” Jim told him. “Seeing as you’ve got a mean streak.”

“I don’t,” said Vince.

“You like to see our lovely boy hurting.”

True enough. Vince slipped the butt plug in and pulled Johnny down onto the bed with him. Held him close to his chest and kissed the tears from his cheeks as Jim soothed his bottom with cream. Johnny’s prick throbbed against Vince’s leg, leaving a damp criss-cross of need across his skin; but Johnny hardly seemed to notice, he was so completely undone.

“It’s ok,” Vince whispered. “You look so fucking lovely when you cry.”

A small part of him – a part that Vince didn’t even want to acknowledge - wanted to hurt Johnny some more, keep the tears coming. Because to have him shaking and weeping like this was the ultimate rush of power. He felt needed. And also, he felt responsibility. He’d led Johnny here, and he had to keep him safe.

Eventually, Johnny was pretty much quiet in Vince’s arms. He raised his face to Vince and looked at him expectantly.

“Not yet,” said Vince, wondering at his own self-control. It was more like absolute fucking exhaustion, if he told the truth, and he didn’t want to be passing out when he finally got round to taking what was on offer. He ran his hand down Johnny’s back and pressed down on the bit of plastic that was stretching him wide. Johnny’s mouth fell open as he drew a breath.

Vince pressed again.

“You like that, don’t you?”

Jim lay down beside them, stretching out.

“Are you sure he can speak?”

Vince grinned, feeling Johnny’s body hum alongside his own; Jim was so close, but not touching. Restraining himself, if his lovely, soaking cock was anything to go by. Vince reached over and circled it with his thumb and forefinger, making it glisten, making Jim sigh.

“Hello, Daddy.”

“Hello, baby boy.” Jim moved closer, dropping a kiss on Johnny’s forehead. “Both of you.”

Johnny’s eyes flickered shut; the next thing Vince knew, he was sound asleep.

“Huh. Look at that,” said Vince, reaching down to touch Johnny’s cock. “He’s still hard.”

“Just like you,” said Jim, yawning. “Always so very easy.”

“You like me that way.”

“Too true. Come here - for a little while, anyway.”

Vince slid out from under Johnny, and pulled the quilt over him. Then he crawled over to Jim, and let himself be pinned to the bed. Jim liked to wrap a hand around his neck and one around his cock, so Vince’s breaths came short and tight. With Jim looming over him, hand heavy on throat and dick, it was like the rest of Vince’s body disappeared. He was nothing but the places where Jim touched; nothing without Jim.

Jim stared down at him.

“You want to keep him, don’t you?”

Vince didn’t even bother to nod. His cock was gathering pace in Jim’s fist, back to where it belonged. Johnny lay beside him, his pretty lips parted slightly as he breathed deep and slow, the quilt slipping down his chest. Vince only had to close his own eyes, and he knew everything that lay hidden under that quilt. And later on, he’d have it all for himself.

“You could keep him, you know,” Jim murmured. “You’d only have to say the word, and he’d stay here, in this room. Never leave. I could lock you both up, punish you when you were bad, reward you when you were good…”

Vince felt dizzy at the thought… and at the thought that Jim could imagine these things. It was as if Vince was glimpsing something that Jim rarely let out. Something that Johnny had unlocked, just by being there.

Jim let himself fall forwards, so he lay covering Vince, who raised his arms so Jim could press them back against the pillow. Jim’s dick dragged hot and hard against Vince’s.

“I’d have both of you at once,” Jim went on, his voice soft in Vince’s ear. “One of you settled on my dick, with that lovely tight ass you both have working away, while the other… wriggling over my face.”

“You can do that now.”

“Maybe… can I have the two of you on your knees, faces buried in the sheets, bottoms high? Then I could take my pick.”

“Pick me.”

Jim covered Vince’s mouth with his own, biting his lips until they felt bruised and sore. He pulled back and grinned.

“You’re the reason, Vince. You’re the one everyone chooses.”

“Don’t want everyone. Just want you.”

“And Johnny.” Jim shifted his hips so his cock lay under Vince’s ass, pushing against him. “You want him almost as much as you want me. I’d be scared if it wasn’t such a turn-on to see you spread yourself for him, like the little slut that you are.”

Vince thought about this for a moment – until he found his legs were lifted onto Jim’s shoulders and Jim’s lubed fingers slid in and out of him. Vince swore, arched his back… and then Jim was suddenly inside him, easily, lazily - completely.

“Just imagine,” he said, holding Vince high off the mattress and thrusting hard and slow. “You could make him cry every day. And then you could make it better. Or, if you prefer, I’d make you his slave. He’s very good at making you do things, after all.”

Vince stretched his arms and felt the rush of blood from head to toe.

“What things?”

“The whole show and tell business. I bet if he told you, you’d get that beautiful dick out in the middle of, well – anywhere.”

Vince reckoned he would, too. Christ, if Johnny told him, he’d take off his clothes and climb onto Johnny’s prick in front of every single one of his former class mates. And he’d enjoy it, too.

Jim pinched the top of Vince’s cock.

“Hey, what are you thinking about?”

“High school.”

“Ah, well. So long as I’m the teacher.”

Now, there was a thought. A jumble of images fell through Vince’s head, most of them with Jim and a cane. Johnny watching. Johnny over a desk. Johnny and Vince over a desk…

Jim stopped moving. Vince stared up at him, his own cock throbbing in Jim’s fist.

“What’s the matter?”

“I’m just watching you think.” Jim thrust once, slowly. “It’s like there’s a film playing in your head, and I’m not allowed to see.”

Vince couldn’t answer; sometimes, even he didn’t get to see what was going on.

“It’s ok,” said Jim, leaning forwards to brush his lips against Vince’s. “I don’t care, so long as you’re here, with my cock inside you. And so long as you’re happy.”

He thrust again, hitting Vince’s spot square on, and Vince’s whole body went rigid. Happy wasn’t really the word, Vince realised. More like desperate; frantic. Agonised.

“Please…” he heard himself whisper.

Jim looked down at him. Waiting. His hand lying motionless on Vince’s cock, while Vince worked out what came next.

Vince wet his lips and listened to himself breathe faster and faster.

“Please, Jim.”

Jim gazed at him steadily, so in control while Vince was so pathetically undone. Which was how it should be, because it made Vince’s cock throb in the hand that gripped him tight, and it made his heart beat loud in his chest. 

No more images of high school, and Jim, and Johnny. Just this, here and now.

Vince knew exactly what came next.

“Don’t stop.” And as Jim began to move again… “Don’t ever fucking stop.”

“Are you begging me?”

No, thought Vince. He was praying. Adoring Jim from way down here, where everything was about his cock and his poor, burning ass.

“I’ll worship you, if you want,” he said. “You can screw me on any altar you like.”

“The bed will do. Maybe the kitchen table, once in a while.”

“I’ll crawl at your feet. Kneel before you.”

“So long as my cock can reach that hot, wet mouth of yours.”

Vince opened his mouth slightly, imagining just that, and Jim reached out and slipped a finger inside.

“So lovely…”

He took the finger out, and his dick pushed deeper into Vince, a quick pattern of thrusts that drew sharp little noises of hope. He stilled before that hope could be fulfilled, leaving Vince searching… searching for something that would get him what he wanted.

Next to him, briefly forgotten, Johnny stirred. He made a soft, huffing sound in his sleep, his breath tickling Vince’s shoulder.

“I’ll give you him,” said Vince.

Jim lowered his gaze, and seemed to lose himself for a second. Then he looked back up.

“Will you now?”

“I’ll never touch him, never look at him. He’ll be yours, completely.”

Vince let his own hands travel down to where Jim held him fast. He settled them around Jim’s fist, which was starting to slide up and down once again, and knew he’d found the right thing to say.

“I’ll give the first person I ever loved, to the last person I’ll ever love.”

Jim studied him for a moment.

“You’d do that.”

More of a statement than a question.

“Just ask me.”

Jim closed his eyes, as if Vince’s honesty was too much.

“I don’t need to,” he said, and collapsed forward, working his cock and his fist until Vince was shaking and wet and a stream of words fell, incoherent, from his lips.

When Vince woke up again, it was hours later – and Johnny’s head was in his lap, his tongue twisting around Vince’s cock. Jim lay beside them, watching sleepily. Just as sleepily toying with his own heavy dick.

He grinned, reached across and slipped something over Vince’s head, and the world went dark.

In a moment of sheer panic, Vince’s hands flew to the blindfold, scrabbling at it. And then his wrists were caught in a tight grip and held back against the headboard.

“If I recall,” said Jim, “you said you wouldn’t look at him. Unless I let you, that is. Now, is that so hard to understand?”

Vince shook his head. The mouth at his cock kept working all the while. Slow and precise, laving the top with rough little licks, then suddenly swallowing it down until Vince was pressing against the hot velvet of Johnny’s throat. And then, all the way back out again.

Jim let go of his hands, and something cold and hard slid around his wrists. With a snap of metal, Vince realised he wasn’t just blind, he was imprisoned. Cuffed to the bed. He was about to go into a full panic when Johnny squirmed away from his dick and straddled him, now running his tongue over Vince’s lips.

“Let me do this for you, Vinnie.”

And if that hadn’t already persuaded him, Jim’s voice whispering: “He wants to - I want him to,” kind of decided the matter.

Vince felt the flush of panic die down, and while Johnny indulged himself in kissing – leaving trails of unexpected bites along Vince’s jaw and neck – someone else took over the job of sucking Vince’s mind through his cock. Vince hazarded a guess that Jim was the someone else. He tried to picture what was going on, Johnny kissing him, Jim looking straight at Johnny’s wriggling butt as he swallowed Vince down.

The picture was too much; Vince needed that blindfold.

Jim abandoned Vince’s cock suddenly, and just as suddenly Johnny’s breath hitched, and he stopped kissing for a moment. Vince could only guess what was going on. From the way Johnny began to kiss him with renewed passion, all the while rocking slightly, Vince figured that round, pretty ass of his had proved too much of a temptation for Jim.

“As welcome home presents go,” said Jim in a ragged voice, “you top the list.”

Johnny just sighed into Vince’s mouth in reply, and Vince found himself wondering if Johnny was Jim’s present, and Vince was Johnny’s… what, or who, did Vince get?

Both of them, he thought. He got both of them.

There was the sharp sound of a slap, that went straight to Vince’s dick.

“Enough kissing,” said Jim. “It’s making me jealous.”

Johnny – or at least, Johnny’s mouth – vanished from Vince’s touch and Vince was left alone and aching. Not for long, though. Firm hands stroked lube around his cock, and then he was lost in sensation as tight heat closed around him and Johnny’s hands fell, shaking, onto his chest.

“Oh fuck,” came Johnny’s voice, as the heat inched down Vince’s dick until he could feel the pressure of Johnny’s bottom resting against his balls.

Oh fuck indeed.

“You should see how he looks, Vince,” Jim murmured. “He’s so full with you. Johnny, sit up now.”

Johnny’s hands lifted away, and Vince was left with hot handprints burning his skin and the full weight of trembling, scorching boy on his dick. He could feel Jim’s fingers brush his thighs, trailing over his balls and up, stroking the place where Vince and Johnny met. Johnny whimpered.

These days, Johnny didn’t seem capable of much more than inarticulate noises.

“Tell me then, lovely boy,” said Jim.

“He’s… he’s Vinnie.”

“He is, isn’t he? And he’s inside you, stretching you so you’re fit to burst. And you know what else, darling?”

Johnny drew a sharp breath, as if he was getting more attention than just Vince’s cock throbbing in his ass.

“Your Vinnie,” said Jim, “your adored, precious Vinnie, with his dick finally inside you where you’ve always wanted it – while you slept, he gave you to me. Mouth, cock, ass and all.”

There was a silence, only broken by Johnny’s quick breathing.

“Go on, Vince. Tell your twin it’s true, while he gets to work. Tell him how you gave him away.”

Another slap fell, and Vince felt cold air rush around his dick as Johnny heaved himself up slightly. He could also feel how Johnny was still shaking.

Vince wet his lips.

“I didn’t give you away. I sacrificed you.”

Johnny sank down. In the darkness, Vince could only guess how he looked. Hurt and desperate. Beautifully confused, and balanced on Vince’s cock with Jim guiding him.

“Why?” said Johnny, ever so softly.

“Because you’re the best fucking thing I've got to give.”

There was a pause.

“Am I?”

“You were. Now you’re his, like he said. Mouth, cock…” Vince bucked his hips, which got him a yelp. “Ass and all.”

“And that ass should be working a bit harder,” said Jim, his words accompanied by yet another smack that made Johnny sob out loud. “So let Daddy see what you’ve got to give, because I want my baby boy to lose control.”

Johnny dutifully speeded up, gripping the top of Vince’s cock until Vince could swear he was seeing stars patterning the inside of his blindfold. At the same time, he was treated to a slow, deep kiss from Jim that was entirely at odds with Johnny’s furious energy. Somehow, it was a kiss that made him want to cry; it was like the most gentle affection, indulgent and forgiving. Like they had all the time in the world.

Maybe they did. Maybe Johnny would stay if Vince asked, or Jim told him to, and this would go on for ever. Maybe…

Vince tensed; felt his body reaching towards something as Johnny moved now with deep, regular strokes. Each time he ground against Vince, Johnny breathed long and loud.

“Can you hear how he’s getting off on you?” whispered Jim. “You don’t even have to move, he wants you so bad. If you could only see…”

“Tell me,” Vince found himself begging. “Please.”

“Oh, he can do that himself, can’t you Johnny?”

Johnny stilled. Vince could feel knees digging into his sides, fingers settling on his ribs and moving with the lightest touch.

“I… Vinnie, you don’t know…”

“Go on,” said Jim. There was a short gasp from Johnny, as if he’d been given some physical encouragement.

“I dreamt about this,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. “Every day, since we met. Even when I didn’t know it was this I wanted.”

Vince felt the warmth around him, like a blanket.

“I never realised.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“Tell me, then.” Because listening to Johnny was an added layer of sensation - hearing him struggle with the words, hearing him give himself up. As shocking as the fact that he was here, on Vince’s dick.

Johnny pressed his fingers down harder.

“You don’t know how easy you make it. How I don’t need to touch you, I only need to look at you. When we were younger, when you were sleeping next to me – I never had to lay a hand on myself. Just the fucking sight of you…”

Johnny started moving again, ever so slowly, and Vince was lost in a world that had disappeared. All the times he’d slept over at Johnny’s, all the times he’d caught Johnny watching him with that heavy-lidded gaze. The things that had been going on in Johnny’s head…

“He does make it easy,” said Jim, and Vince felt the mattress sink from beneath his head and something that wasn’t lips or fingers graze his mouth from side to side. He reached out his tongue and tasted it, tried to tempt it in. It had been forever, after all.

“See?” said Jim, moving away. “He can’t help it. Tell him more of the truth, Johnny, so he knows it all.”

Johnny sighed.

“I used to watch you all the time at school, even when you wouldn’t talk to me. I’d watch you when you ran. Every time. Every stupid competition. I’d watch the way you moved. And every time, I’d be sitting up there, soaking because it was you. That’s how much of a whore I am for you.”

Vince felt a tightness creep into his body, as the build-up that had started deep inside gathered pace.

“Sometimes, when we were still friends,” Johnny murmured, moving quicker, “you’d get this look, like you were somewhere else entirely. Like I wasn’t even in the same room as you. And when you finally looked at me, finally saw me, it was like being burned. I’d have done anything to get you to see me.”

Vince tried to hold onto the words, make some sense of them.

“I did see you.”

“No, Vinnie. You see Jim, but not me.”

“I do.”

But Johnny leant forwards and kissed him.

“It’s ok. You feel me, don’t you?” Vince nodded. Every nerve in him felt Johnny, who murmured into Vince’s mouth: “Then that’s enough.”

He disappeared, leaving just the touch between his ass and Vince’s cock, and worked that quick and ragged so that Vince was suddenly panting, straining against the cuffs that bit into his skin.

“I do,” he said, the words a refrain now as he lost himself to what Johnny was doing. “I do see you.”

And suddenly, he did. Because Jim loosened the blindfold and slipped it down so it hung around Vince’s neck like a collar. Vince saw Johnny, hips snapping up and down, hands hovering over his own cock without touching; he saw how Johnny’s eyes were fixed on him with an intensity that stripped him to the bone. He saw how Johnny shook and trembled as he fought to stay in control – and how he was losing.

And he saw Jim, lying beside him, watching them both with a look that couldn’t be fathomed.

Vince shut his eyes – it was too much.

“Vinnie, don’t… please don’t.”

And then Jim’s voice, very quiet.

“Be brave, Vince.”

Vince opened his eyes and looked at Johnny.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, as the sight of that desperate, hopeful boy tipped him over the edge. “I’m not brave at all.”

But Johnny didn’t seem to care, as the moment Vince found himself falling headlong into orgasm, Johnny followed. Never touching himself, as if to prove to Vince that he was enough, but falling bonelessly against Vince’s chest as he came.

For a moment, it really was just the two of them, hearts thumping together and skin sliding with sweat. Johnny might have been the strong one, the brave one, but as he lay there Vince realised Johnny was utterly his. He could do anything he wanted with him. Make him stay, make him leave, make him lie with Jim or any other guy.

It was incredible – and completely terrifying. And it was probably how Jim felt every single fucking second he was with Vince.

He looked at Jim, who was undoing the handcuffs and dropping kisses onto Vince’s wrists.

“Do you know what I think?” he said, between kisses.

Vince just carried on looking. Jim grinned.

“I think, it’s bath time for my naughty, dirty boys.”

Jim told Vince to fill the bath while he sat on the side and sorted Johnny out. Sorting Johnny out apparently meant draping him over Jim’s knee and alternately smacking and soothing him, until Johnny was a bundle of tears and moans.

“He’s so lovely when he cries,” said Jim, landing an unexpected whack across the tops of Johnny’s thighs that got him a hiccoughing sob. “What about when he laughs?”

Vince considered. There’d been a lot of laughing back when they were best friends. Stupid stuff, mainly. Fun. Vince had missed it. He had a sneaking suspicion that part of the reason he fell in with Jones so easily was that the guy sometimes made him laugh as much as Johnny had.

“He has this giggle,” he said, placing a wet hand on the small of Johnny’s back, “and it makes his whole body shake.”

He crept his hand down to meet Jim’s, and for a second they laced their fingers together, Johnny’s skin reddening beneath them.

“Up you get,” said Jim, tipping the boy from his lap. “Vince wants to play with you again.”

It was true; Vince was kind of obsessed. He looked at Johnny and was assailed with guilt and lust… and that sense of power that came from knowing Johnny had never forgotten him, never stopped wanting him. It made Vince feel high.

At the same time, he longed to have Jim to himself, to be the boy lying over his lap, spanked and rewarded in equal measure. But Johnny was sitting on the bathroom floor, his sore backside cooling on the tiles, looking up hopefully at Vince. There was nothing hard-edged about him anymore, all his bravado had gone. He was laid out for Vince to see if he chose, or ignore if he wanted, and when Vince did choose to see… he was still terrified.

Jim reached down and ran a hand through Johnny’s hair.

“Best get in, then. Give him time to decide what he wants.”

Johnny obliged, sliding into the bath water with a wince as the heat touched his bottom. He knelt up, looking like a kid in a paddling pool, and Jim climbed in behind him. Pulled him back against his chest until Johnny was nothing but a soft, damp muddle in his arms. Vince watched as Johnny lay there, kissed and teased, and thought about all the times it had been him instead, lying indolently in Jim’s arms.

The bath – an enormous, claw-footed affair – was Jim’s favourite place in the whole apartment. He’d taken one look at it and signed on the dotted line, turning a deaf ear to Vince’s whining about no cable access.

“We’re not going to need cable,” Jim had said. “Not when we’ve got this.”

He was right. Living with Jim, Vince was a very clean boy. Tended to, wiped down, washed. Jim always got him to scrub the bath afterwards, and he frequently found himself balanced over the edge with a cloth in one hand and an insistent cock nudging against his ass. Something about damp, pink skin and servant boys, according to Jim, as Vince flailed against the cold enamel, trying to stop himself from dirtying what he’d just polished. He never managed.

The bath wasn’t just for that, though. Often, Jim would disappear for a while in the evening, and Vince would find him soaking in the vast, pseudo-Victorian tub, lost in a book or making notes. Or listening to the BBC World service on the radio, because he said it was just one of those things that made him feel right. Sometimes, Vince was finding out, Jim was incurably old-fashioned.

And the rest of the time – all the time – he was at Vince’s beck and call. Because he’d look over at him, and drop his book onto the floor. Reach out a hand, and Vince would shrug off his clothes and join him, letting his body warm against Jim’s. Then, they’d stay there for another while, as Jim decided whether he was too tired to screw Vince into the cooling bathwater.

He never was.

Now, though, it was Johnny’s turn to have Jim at his beck and call; to shut his eyes as Jim’s hands worked him under the water, and squirm into the touch.

“I’m just making sure everything’s clean,” said Jim, with a smile.

Johnny looked up at him, all big, doe eyes.

“This bathroom’s bigger than my whole house. You are such a sugar daddy.”

First time he’d found his tongue since his trip on Vince’s cock. He probably wished he hadn’t, because Jim leant down and bit it until Johnny wriggled in pain.

“Be nice,” said Jim. “And maybe you can stay.”

Johnny stared at him for a second, then let his head drop back into the hollow of Jim’s shoulder.

“That would be fun.”

“Well, ask your Vinnie.”

Johnny glanced at Vince, and Vince saw a moment of naked longing, that was quickly extinguished.

“He’d only say yes,” said Johnny.

“Isn’t that the point?”

Johnny sighed as Jim’s hands trailed up and down his chest.

“He needs things simple.”

“What about you? What do you need?”

Johnny didn’t answer, just let Jim drop kisses into his wet hair. Vince found he was gripping the side of the bath, and his knuckles were white.

“See?” said Johnny. “He has no idea what to do, no idea what he wants. Apart from you. He always wants you.”

“And I always want him.” Jim indulged in a long, warm kiss, taking pleasure in Johnny and making him sigh. Then he reached out his hand. “Vince, for heaven’s sake, get in. There’s room for three.”

Vince got in and found that, instead of Jim waiting for him, there was Johnny, leaning forwards, hungry to touch him. They knelt up, and Vince allowed himself to be devoured. The bath really was big enough for three.

Jim reached for the soap.

“As you’re there…” He began to work a lather into Johnny’s bottom, that glowed red with heat and palm prints. “Bend over.”

Johnny pulled away from Vince and shuffled forwards, so his ass was open to Jim’s inspection. From the look on his face, this kind of thing hit him as hard as it did Vince. A sort of eager humiliation, shame confused with total lust. 

“Vince,” said Jim, “hold him so he doesn’t fall and drown.”

Vince took Johnny’s weight, supporting him under the arms and letting Johnny’s head drop onto his shoulder. He watched as Jim’s fingers spread soap over the curves of Johnny’s ass and along his crack; sliding them over Johnny’s own pink hole and down, around his balls, until Johnny was breathing quick against Vince’s skin. Jim’s hand disappeared beneath, cleaning in long, soapy strokes.

“Quite the water baby,” he said, drawing his hand back and pressing his thumb against Johnny’s pucker. “Washed clean and, well, maybe not pure… turn him around now, Vince.”

Vince helped Johnny stand up on shaky legs and settled him back on his knees, facing Jim. He remembered how this went – how he would find himself leaning over Jim, his cock in Jim’s hand, examined and smothered in wet flannel until Jim was satisfied it was clean – or until he just couldn’t hold off screwing Vince any longer. As games went, this one never lasted so long. Especially when Jim would say: “Clean as a whistle,” and Vince would smirk and answer: “Blow me, then.” Things tended to go awry after that.

Sometimes, just the fact that Jim was there, wholly concentrated on Vince, paying his cock such serious, almost worshipful attention… that was enough. There were even times when Jim only had to order him to turn around, and Vince was utterly unable to hold on. Jim would have to catch him as he collapsed into the water; then he’d wonder at how Vince could come so quickly when all he’d done was… what? he’d say. Tell me what I did, and I’ll do it again. Vince could never find the words to explain.

Now, Johnny showed himself to Jim, allowed himself to be looked at and wiped down. Vince held him tight, letting his own cock rest between those sore, soapy cheeks that, right at this moment, seemed to be made for him alone. He let his hands rest on Johnny’s hips, his mouth on Johnny’s neck, and bit down lightly. It was far too much for Johnny, because as Jim ran his thumb over the top of his cock, pressing down on the slit and murmuring: “all clean and perfect”, Johnny suddenly went rigid under Vince’s hands, his buttocks tightened around Vince’s cock, and with a swallowed scream he came over Jim’s chest.

He slumped back against Vince.

“Sorry, sorry…”

Jim stretched his arms up and out, letting them rest over the sides of the bath.

“Both my boys, both as easy. I wonder why.”

Johnny leant forwards and dipped his head to Jim’s chest. Looked up at him.

“Because it’s you.”

And he poked out his long, pink tongue and began to do some washing himself.

After, Jim said:

“Well, Vince, who gets the honours of you?”

Vince was by now nursing a painful hard-on, having just watched Johnny’s backside bob up and down in the water as he first licked Jim’s chest clean, and was then ‘directed’ to somewhere lower down. Some struggling went on, which only added to Vince’s problem – and even Jim bit his lip until it went white at the sight of Johnny flailing under his hand. He eventually allowed Johnny back up, saying he’d wait until later rather than fish a drowned boy from the bottom of his bath. Even if that boy happened to look like Johnny, and have Johnny’s ‘quite appallingly dirty mouth’.

There were things that Johnny knew how to do, and Vince wasn’t sure he wanted to know where he’d learnt them.

“Vincent,” said Jim, “we’re waiting for an answer.” He ran more hot water into the bath and splashed it at Johnny’s butt as he lolled around in front of him. Vince wondered if Johnny realised what a slut he was being. Or maybe it was just that everyone behaved like that with Jim – after all, Vince had been known to wave his ass around whenever Jim was in the vicinity.

Or maybe Johnny did it because he knew it confused Vince. And Vince was truly confused now, because if forced to make a choice – it was always going to be Jim. Except for when it was Johnny.

Jim stood up and climbed out.

“You know,” he said, towelling his hair dry, “it occurs to me that you haven’t said anything much since we got into the bath.”

Vince tried his voice out.

“I’m ok.”

“Just not up to choosing. So I’m doing it for you.”

So, Johnny dealt with Vince. Johnny liked him pressed against the slope of the bath, skin hot and chill where the bath touched. Vince lay there, circles being rubbed into his chest with a sponge, until he was almost asleep. Jim watched them in the mirror as he shaved; no expression, and an upstanding prick.

“His hair needs washing,” he said, as he stroked the razor up his neck and over his jaw. “He’s a tad lazy about that.”

Johnny pulled Vince forwards, pushing down on his head until Vince was watching water rushing past his face. He felt a finger trace its way over the nape of his neck, and shivered.

“You found that place, then,” said Jim.

Johnny’s voice came low, by Vince’s ear.

“Found it a long time ago.”

When? How? Vince tried to look up, but there was more pressure on his head – another hand keeping him down. Jim was standing beside the bath, leaning over. He settled his palm over the spot that had made Vince shiver, and murmured:

“Call me naïve, but I always thought that was just for me.”

It was. Everything was just for Jim. Even Johnny.

Johnny soaped up Vince’s hair, and scrubbed his scalp non too gently, raking the hair back from Vince’s face. Jim tugged his head up and back.

“Ready?”

Vince didn’t bother answering, because he was never ready, no matter how many times Jim did this. It always freaked him out slightly.

Jim kissed him, and tipped him backwards, pushing him under the water, and for a moment Vince was submerged and trying not to panic. Looking up at Jim, and at Johnny’s worried face peering down. Then Jim lifted him back up and squeezed the water from his hair.

“He doesn’t like that,” said Johnny, and he sounded angry. “You shouldn’t do that to him.”

“And how do you know he doesn’t like it?”

“Years of swimming class. Vinnie, tell him.”

Vince gazed at Jim, not knowing what to say.

“It’s ok,” said Jim. “I already know.”

Johnny was still angry.

“Then why do it?”

“Because I can. Because he lets me.”

And Vince reckoned that was as good an answer as any, because it was true.

Johnny was quiet for a while after that, frowning as he watched Jim comb Vince’s hair. Vince reached out to him and caught his hand.

“You’re trying to work it out. But there’s nothing to work out. It just… is.”

Johnny nodded; then brought Vince’s hand to his lips and kissed it. Vince closed his eyes. That Johnny could be so gentle, so oddly formal – it made his heart ache. He didn’t deserve this wary tenderness.

Johnny knelt up.

“You never hold back, do you?” he said, studying Vince’s face. “Once you’ve decided something.”

“I… I don’t know…”

“You should’ve decided on me, instead of leaving me.”

“I told you, I’m not brave.”

Johnny kissed him properly now.

“If you’d decided on me, I’d have done everything you asked. Held you under until you drowned. If that’s what you wanted.”

Vince wondered how Johnny made an offer to kill him sound so completely seductive. Jim, on the other hand, simply leant over and smacked Johnny on his wet backside.

“He’s never going to ask – and you’d never do it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Johnny, you had enough trouble watching Vince get his backside tanned.”

Johnny smiled suddenly at Vince.

“Could get used to it, though.”

“Sure you could. Now, my baby boy isn’t properly clean, yet. Hurry up before the water gets cold.”

Johnny arranged Vince so his arms were folded on the lip of the bath, his head buried in them. His knees dug into the enamel bottom, and his ass rose up above the water – higher when Johnny made him arch his back. Then Johnny set to washing him with soaped fingers, working his way into places quickly and leaving Vince no room for manoeuvre. Soon, Vince was shaking as fingers stretched him wide and, at the same time, a hand grasped his balls and curled around the base of his cock.

“You really should have decided on me,” said Johnny.

“But I have.”

“Too late. You left it too long. Now, open wide for Daddy.”

Vince raised his head and saw that Jim was standing in front of him, his prick as ready now as it ever was. Vince gazed at it, wondering if it really was too late. Jim tangled his hand in Vince’s hair and lifted his head up completely, so Vince’s neck curved back and he fought to breathe. As Vince let his mouth fall open, he felt Johnny behind him, washing the soap away. And as Jim slid his cock between Vince’s lips, watching him every inch, Johnny’s tongue screwed itself into Vince and had him that way.

Vince couldn’t work out which way to squirm. Jim was thrusting into his mouth as if Vince wasn’t even really there; using him. Such a fucking turn-on when he treated him like this. And Johnny was angry, but his eager, insistent mouth was betraying him. He couldn’t get enough of Vince, he was fascinated by what he could touch and taste. He held him open, fingers spreading his backside to reach it all, mouth moving from ass hole to balls to the stretch of smoothness between, until Vince was screaming around Jim’s cock. Then Johnny sank his teeth into Vince’s ass cheek – just a quick, sharp bite that layered pain onto what was already there – and Vince thought he was going to die.

“That’s enough,” said Jim, standing back and leaving Vince on the edge of tears. “Out you get.”

Vince stumbled out of the bath and into the towel that Jim had waiting.

“You too, Johnny.”

Johnny pouted.

“I hadn’t finished with him.”

Jim just looked at him, and Johnny got out. Vince held open his towel, and Johnny slid against him.

“Make you wet again,” he murmured, slipping his damp arms around Vince’s waist and kissing him. Vince felt Johnny’s cock against his own, burning hot like it hadn’t just emptied itself over Jim’s chest. The boy was just plain horny.

The towel fell to the ground, and Jim sighed and picked it up. As his boys kissed, he dried them down, letting his own kisses fall on necks and shoulders, and bottoms – taking the chance to explore Johnny a little further. Vince tried not to feel jealous as Johnny bucked against him; he knew what it was like to have Jim’s mouth breathing hot on those places. And at least Johnny wasn’t so angry anymore, just confused and ravenous for everything that came his way.

Jim always knew how to make things better.

He stood up, patting Johnny’s bottom.

“Ok, now I’m hungry.”

Johnny giggled. Vince was right – his whole body shook.

“Hungry for breakfast,” said Jim. “I’ll get to you later.”

With a meaningful look at Johnny, he headed out of the bathroom, leaving them to it. They wriggled together some more, pricks sliding and hands wandering.

“It’s not really too late?” said Vince, pulling away from Johnny suddenly.

Johnny shrugged, then rested his head on Vince’s shoulder.

“Yes, I think it is.”

“But why?”

“Because the way you give yourself to him – you can only do that for one person.”

“No…”

Embarrassing, but Vince began to cry.

“Vinnie… you’d try for me, but I've never been the one.”

“But I love you.”

It was easier to say when Jim wasn’t there. Johnny looked up at him, and brushed his tears away with a finger. Brought that finger to Vince’s lips and let him taste his own salt.

“At least I can make you cry.”

He raised his head and took Vince into his arms properly, like a lover. Pressed himself against him until there was no space, no inch of light between their bodies, and wound his hands in Vince’s hair. Kissed him in one slow, deep breath that lasted for ever.

“I would give anything to have you to myself.”

But the thought of no Jim was too much for Vince, and he could only look at Johnny miserably.

“You see?” said Johnny, pinching Vince’s bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger. “You can’t even imagine it.”

“I’m no good without him. You know what happened last time…”

“Will never happen again, because you’ll always have him.”

He leant in and bit Vince’s mouth, making Vince sigh.

“But you like Jim, don’t you?” said Vince.

“Oh, more than like.”

“Then, why can’t you just… stay?”

“For the same reason you can’t just leave.”

Which, as far as Vince could make out, was no reason at all. But Johnny was taking his hand and leading him back to the bedroom, and there was no more time for thinking. 

Jim left them alone for a good while; like he trusted Johnny to… well, probably not behave. But to look after what was his. Johnny did his best. He carried on where he’d left off - balanced Vince’s butt on three pillows and settled his mouth to Vince’s pucker until he was a breathless bundle of tears.

“I think you should always be like this when you’re with me,” said Johnny eventually, rolling Vince off his perch. “Always crying just a little bit.”

“Would you stay if I promised?”

“No, but I’d come back. Now, if you really do love me…”

“I said, didn’t I?”

“Then you’ll park that pretty butt in front of my face and wrap your even prettier mouth around my cock.”

Vince scrambled to do as he was told, wondering when Johnny had got so poetic. Caught it off Jim, perhaps. But it didn’t matter so much when the next moment he found himself paying close attention to Johnny’s prick as his own balls were held tight and high, and a finger traced its way down his crack.

“You are so pink,” said Johnny, echoing someone else. Vince could only give a muffled agreement as Johnny’s cock filled his mouth. He managed a squeak, though, as cold stickiness worked its way into his ass hole.

“Pink and… shiny,” Johnny went on, his words rasping slightly as Vince’s teeth scraped his cock. “And right now, just for me.”

There was a rustling sound, and the next thing Vince knew, something that buzzed and tingled was an inch inside him, nosing deeper. Something that Jim hadn’t got round to using on him yet. He opened his mouth to gasp, and got more of Johnny, who throbbed as much as the thing in his ass. Vince humped the air uselessly, like some sad whore, but couldn’t seem to stop himself. The idea that here he was, at Johnny’s service, filled both ends with what the boy wanted for him – and that just a while ago he’d enjoyed watching that same boy weep and howl – it really made no sense. Life made no sense. But at least he was living it… and between confusion and lying dead on a train track, there really wasn’t any competition.

“You always think too much,” said Johnny, as if he could see into Vince’s mind, and not just his behind. “Stop thinking, just this once.”

The buzzing, throbbing thing worked deeper and nudged against the place that sent Vince into orbit. He lost his mind a bit then, and it was all about gasping for air and arching his back so Johnny could treat him like the slut he really was. Instead, Johnny let go of his toy and left it in Vince, while he treated him to some idle spanking. Irregular slaps over bottom and thighs that made Vince’s head jerk around his lovely mouthful, followed by a slow squeezing of Vince’s butt cheeks until the toy was alternately pushed in deeper and forced out.

Vince did a little muffled begging, and cried even more.

“I always knew,” said Johnny, letting his hands slide down Vince’s thighs and over his shins. He lifted them away, and Vince was left with his mouth overflowing with cock and his sore bottom trying to do what Johnny was refusing to do anymore – namely, find that place again.

Vince twitched his hips this way and that, hopelessly.

What did Johnny always know?

Johnny wasn’t for telling, though. From the way his cock was leaking now, streaming down Vince’s throat, he was nearly at the end. Vince tried to forget the fullness in his ass, and concentrated his efforts on the first inch of prick, sucking hard and fast like he did with Jim, digging the tip of his tongue into Johnny’s slit. Sealing his lips around the rim.

“Oh fuck…”

A hand reached down and dragged Vince up by the hair. He found himself kneeling up, surrounded by Johnny. Johnny’s dick pressing into the small of his back, Johnny’s hands smoothing their way over his cock. The toy was suddenly gone, and there was only the heat from Johnny and his voice whispering ‘I always knew’ against his ear.

Vince didn’t give a fuck what Johnny thought he knew, so long as he was here.

They fell back onto the bed, and kissed for an age. It was like Johnny was taking the time to taste him, and everything that went into making Vince. For his part, Vince managed not to embarrass himself and plead for Johnny to just fuck him now, for Christ’s sake. Just fuck me. I can’t stand it any longer.

“You’re shaking,” said Johnny, pulling Vince onto him like a blanket. “Are you cold?”

“No.”

“Not scared? Is it because Jim isn’t -,”

“No.” Vince tried to lie still, feeling every inch where they touched. “I just… I think I’m getting lost.”

“But you’re right here, Vinnie.”

“But I want you to… I don’t know…”

Johnny nodded.

“See, I did always know what it was about you. What you needed.”

A good fuck, that’s what he needed. Anyone could see that, so if Johnny would just get the hell on with it…

“D’you remember?” Johnny went on, his voice a murmur now. “When I used to have that swing in my back yard?”

Ohhh…

“And when my mom went out to pick my brother up from nursery, we used to play that game?”

Vince shut his eyes.

“You used to make me play it, you mean.”

“Because you wanted me to. All I had to do was tell you, and you’d be perched on that swing with your lovely naked ass for all the world to see.”

“The world that was just you.”

“And I’d say, ‘Vinnie, sit back a bit more’, and you would. And I’d get to see that bit more, too.”

“Only you told me it was for balance, so you could push me properly.”

Johnny laughed.

“And you believed me. Only you didn’t, because you knew exactly what was going on.”

“I guess…”

“And then I’d give you half my allowance, and you’d disappear off back home. And I wouldn’t see you for a couple of days.”

And then they’d carry on as if nothing had happened, and they wouldn’t do it for a while, until the desperation inside of Vince got too much and Johnny only had to look at him a certain way, like he’d been watching him long enough…

Johnny reached down and held their cocks together.

“Such a slut.”

“Yes.”

“You want me to pay you now?”

“Yes.”

He wished he had a clue why that worked for him – had always worked. He didn’t. He only knew that Johnny’s allowance, Jim’s money stuffed into his pocket, even Jones’ hand-outs, all of them compelled him to do whatever he was told. Compelled and allowed.

“How much d’you want?” said Johnny, creeping his hands back to Vince’s ass hole and leaving them there.

“How much am I worth?”

“Well, I’d have given you all my allowance if you’d asked, just to see you on that swing. I’d have given you anything I had.” Johnny paused to kiss Vince. “And I’d have given you the entire fucking world if you’d just spoken to me once these last three years.”

Vince didn’t even bother to say sorry. They were way past that. Instead, he said:

“Give me whatever change is in your pocket.”

So Johnny reached down and found his long-discarded pants; fished out some quarters and balanced them on Vince’s ass as he lay face down in the sheets. Then he screwed Vince to the point of desire, the coins sliding between them and falling onto the bed.

“Spend them wisely,” he said, pulling away before either of them could finish and leaving Vince spread and gasping and shameless. Johnny lined the coins down Vince’s spine and made him hold one between his butt cheeks, because it looked nasty and cheap. He licked his way around it and said: “They’re the last you’ll ever get from me.”

He sat up and looked towards the bedroom door where, as if on cue, Jim appeared. He came and sat by Vince.

“Present for you,” said Johnny.

“Very pretty. And useful, too.” Jim tweaked the coin balanced in Vince. “Are you going to spend this on me?”

Vince couldn’t speak, so he didn’t.

“He’d spend his last dime on you,” said Johnny. “So maybe I should, too.”

And he took the quarter, slid it between his teeth and reached over to kiss Jim.

They kissed for a long, long time. And Vince lay beneath them, diamond-hard against the sheets; one or other of them putting a hand to him all the while. Like he was an extension of the kiss, or the reason for it.

Finally, Johnny pulled away.

“No, I’m not done with you yet,” said Jim, going after him. “Not nearly finished.”

Vince had heard those words before; back when they were still the tutor and his boy. Every morning, when Vince was getting dressed. Not nearly finished, Jim would say, peeling off Vince’s clothes as fast as Vince was putting them on. There’s time yet to make you cry. There’s always time…

There wasn’t, though. And there wasn’t much time left for Johnny, either. Johnny, who so desperately wanted to stay right where he was, but for some reason had decided he couldn’t.

Jim caught hold of Johnny’s wrist and raised it to his lips. Johnny watched him.

“Don’t,” he said. “It’s too much.”

Vince wondered how come a kiss on the wrist was too much for Johnny, when Jim’s dick hammering into him apparently wasn’t.

Johnny had always been the strangest boy.

Jim lifted his mouth from Johnny’s skin.

“It’s you who’s too much, lovely boy. I could lose myself in you.”

Johnny accepted this as his due.

“What about Vince?”

“No comparison.” As Jim said it, he stretched his hand along Vince’s spine. “Vince is for loving.”

“Then what am I for?”

“You? You’re for ruining.”

Vince felt Jim’s fingers slip over the curve of his ass and down, inside. They reached in and took a whimper and a moan. Vince lifted his hips so they could take more, but Jim ignored him. He was too busy kissing Johnny again.

“I think Vince wants some ruining,” said Johnny.

“Forget Vince. He’s a greedy, selfish little boy.”

This time Johnny pulled right away.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s not any of those things.”

“Isn’t he?” Jim tugged Vince upright and kissed him instead. “He’s got both of us wrapped around his little finger, and he won’t let either one of us go. I’d call that greedy and just a little selfish.”

“He’s not.” Johnny had that look on his face, the one he always got when he was defending Vince. Stubborn, and loving. “He’s just a kid.”

“And what are you, then?”

Johnny hesitated.

“Whatever you might think,” said Jim, “you are just still a kid yourself. Maybe one that’s more clued in, but still a kid that needs some looking after.”

He pulled Vince into his lap, and Vince came willingly. Spreading his legs so Johnny could see the effect he had on him.

“He’s greedy and selfish,” said Jim, a hand on Vince’s cock, “but only when it comes to the people he loves. He’s also brave and determined and clever.”

Jim suddenly dropped his head into the crook of Vince’s neck, and kissed him there.

“He thinks I don’t know how hard he tries, how he struggles to be happy just because he doesn’t want to hurt me. He thinks I don’t know…”

Vince felt wetness against his skin. Jim was… he was crying.

“It’s ok,” Vince murmured. “I’m right here.”

“I went back, to the station. I wanted to see…” Jim shook his head. “And the apartment. It was like it had a ghost.”

“You should’ve let me come with you.”

“But Vince - I always knew. Always knew that you were in trouble, from the very start. And I just ignored it -,”

“You’re here now, aren’t you?”

Jim raised his head and smiled at him. He looked very tired, and Vince wanted nothing more than to make him smile some more, even as his own cock clamoured for his attention. He was selfish, he realised; he’d not stopped for one moment to think about Jim in all this, not properly. He always forgot that Jim needed him, would do anything for him, because he was so busy needing him back.

“Here,” said Johnny suddenly, “let me.”

He crawled between Vince’s legs and covered Jim’s hand with his own; pushed it away and took over the job of Vince. Let them kiss above him, gentle and sad, losing themselves for a moment, until Vince began to gasp.

“Not yet,” said Johnny. He drew Vince away from Jim, and took his place. Let Jim spread him wide and press his fingers against everything he had.

“I could look after you, too,” said Jim. “Make you a whipping boy proper.”

Johnny closed his eyes, and Vince leant forward and kissed him.

“What the hell is that, exactly?” he said.

“Something Johnny’s always been for you, my little king. Isn’t that right, Johnny?”

Johnny drew in a breath as Vince kissed down his chest and along somewhere else entirely.

“It’s always easier,” he said, “than seeing Vince get hurt.”

Vince couldn’t figure out what he meant, only that Johnny’s cock was being held for him as a sort of offering, and that he wasn’t about to refuse. He took the head into his mouth, with Jim’s fingers still wrapped around it, and enjoyed the sensation of both.

Jim squeezed Johnny’s cock so it leaked over Vince’s tongue.

Johnny flailed.

“That’s… that’s just…”

Vince, meanwhile, came back to kiss Jim, and they shared the taste of Johnny between them.

“If he’s my whipping boy,” said Vince, “do I get to whip him?”

“No. I do. I get to hurt him every time you make me worried.”

“Then he’s going to hurt a lot.”

“That’s what he needs.”

“Maybe,” said Vince, sitting back, “it’s time for what Daddy needs.”

Jim smiled.

“I've got what I need right here.”

“See, I think you’re wrong. I think it’s time you let me decide. How else am I ever going to stop being a kid and grow up?”

“How else indeed?” said Jim.

Vince had a keen recollection of everything Jim had ever told him, especially if it lead to impossible sex. So, fifteen minutes later, a bemused Jim sat waiting on the bed, watching as Johnny came in with a tray of food, Vince with the tea tray.

“Sir,” said Johnny, with a faint smile. Then he put the tray on the bed and stopped smiling. Looked very hard at Jim.

“Breakfast, Sir.”

“And tea,” said Vince. “Sir.”

Jim frowned.

“But I’ve already had breakfast – oh.” He looked at Vince for a moment, apparently recalling servant boys and damp, pink skin. “There’s room for more.”

As Jim ate, the boys tidied the room. Johnny proved surprisingly neat, folding Jim’s clothes along the crease line and hanging them up. Vince wasn’t so neat.

“Come here, Vincent,” said Jim.

Vince came. Stood by the bed with hands folded behind his back.

Jim tapped his cock.

“I think your talents are best employed elsewhere.”

“Where would that be, Sir?”

“On your knees. Quickly, before I change my mind and decide to beat you for slovenly work instead.”

Vince hurriedly crawled onto the bed, settling his mouth on Jim’s cock and thinking that Jim was just made to be the Lord and Master of his world.

Jim put a hand on the back of Vince’s head and kept him at his task whilst he watched Johnny potter around the room.

“I think you missed a bit,” he said suddenly. “Reach over a bit further…”

From the way his dick leapt in Vince’s mouth, Vince knew Jim had been obeyed.

“Enough,” said Jim, pulling Vince up. “I think both of you need a little reminder of who’s in charge.”

Vince smiled.

 “I think you’ll find that’s me.”

He pushed Jim back into the pillows, enjoying the look of surprise.

“Now,” he said, sitting back on his heels, “I’m going to give you everything. Only, you have to tell me first.”

Vince held his hand out to Johnny, who came crawling onto the bed beside him. Vince drew him into his arms; looked at Jim.

“See, ready to serve. You just have to tell us what to do.”

Jim gazed at them, his two boys pressed against each other, waiting for his word.

He shook his head.

“Why not?” said Vince, who had figured on an entirely different reaction. “Don’t you want us?”

“Vince…”

“Then you have to tell me.”

And why this was so hard for Jim, Vince had no clue. But then, Jim didn’t often reveal what was in his head; where Vince’s needs were laid bare, Jim’s fantasies were hidden, rarely glimpsed. What he had before him always seemed to be enough.

Vince took Johnny’s face in his hands and began to kiss him. He glanced at Jim.

“This is what you like to see, right?”

“I… yes.” Jim bit his lip. “Watching you… it’s incredible.”

“But you’ve done enough of that.” Vince clutched at Johnny’s hips and brought them flush against his own. “I want to watch you instead. See you the way you see me.”

Jim looked unsure, so Vince let his hands wander over Johnny’s ass as they made out. Simple, but effective.

“You only have to say,” he murmured, the words lost in Johnny’s mouth.

And if Jim didn’t say fairly soon, Johnny was going to go off on his own, if the hard-on bruising Vince’s hipbone was anything to go by.

Jim cleared his throat.

“Johnny, come and lie here.”

Johnny’s dick got impossibly harder. He slid into the spot Jim was pointing to and let Jim pull him close.

Vince stayed put, rubbing a lazy hand over his cock; he felt a rush of power, knowing that Jim would do what he said; knowing that Johnny would, too. And deep down, he wanted this so bad, to show Jim that he could give and be generous, and share. That he could make it all about Jim instead of about himself.

Jim’s gaze rested on Vince, and he forgot about feeling powerful.

“Tell me now,” he said. “I’ll do anything you want.”

“No. You tell me.”

For a moment, Vince was confused, then –

“Johnny, get the handcuffs.”

He watched as Johnny scrambled for the cuffs then knelt over Jim, catching his wrists and stretching them back to the bed stead. The metal clicked around Jim’s pale skin, and the veins in his arms stood out.

Vince stared.

A whole fucking year together, and they’d never done this. Jim’s eyes fixed on him, his breathing quick and shallow. His hands, tied.

“I want you to…” Hell, he just wanted him, period. “Use your mouth on Johnny.”

Well, seeing as he was there and all. Straddling Jim’s chest with his dick practically nudging Jim’s lips… Jim opened his mouth and spent a few minutes showing Vince just how well he could follow instructions.

Very quickly, Vince couldn’t stand it. He pulled Johnny away and kissed Jim hard, chasing Johnny’s taste. Jim was making these sharp little noises in the back of his throat, pulling on the cuffs all the while. He went rigid suddenly under Vince’s touch – Johnny was lying between his legs, lapping at his cock. Taking care to do nothing more than run his tongue along the length.

He grinned.

“Ready for you, Vinnie.”

Vince slid away from Jim, and the cuffs scraped against the bed rail as Johnny worked lube into Vince’s ass. They scraped some more as the boys took a moment to reacquaint themselves with kissing.

“Please…” came Jim’s voice, from far away. “Please, Vince. Baby boy…”

Vince had never heard Jim sound like that.

He lifted himself over Jim’s cock.

“It’s ok,” he said, his hand busy behind him, getting everything just so. “You can fuck me now.”

And he sank down slowly, achingly slow, Jim watching every inch of the way.

There was something… Vince didn’t know. Something in the way Jim let his head fall back against the pillows, like he couldn’t watch Vince. The way the muscles in his thighs were corded, absolute tension.

“Fuck me,” said Vince, stretching his arms up, behind his head. He loved to feel like this, drawn out and with Jim’s dick working away inside him. Loved it even more with Johnny putting a hand to Vince’s cock and wiping the dampness from its head.

Johnny lay alongside Jim, holding his finger to his mouth and letting him have what he’d taken from Vince.

Jim thrust up and against Vince’s spot, and as Vince yelped, he realised Jim was shouting louder. Just a wordless yell. Like Vince’s excitement was pushing him too near.

“Again,” said Vince, because he liked Jim shouting.

Same spot, same thing happened.

Vince arched his spine, and began to move, quick and shallow like Jim’s breathing. Jim’s head snapped upwards.

“Don’t! Oh God…”

It was more than ‘something’ now. The way sweat was already a sheen on his upper lip, and his eyes were bright and… so fucking blue. His chest heaved faster.

“Vince… please…”

Johnny kissed him – “to keep you quiet” – but it didn’t work. As Vince let his movements become deeper, Jim moaned into Johnny’s mouth. Greedy; desperate. Yanking at the cuffs now like he had to hold something, had to feel what was being done to him.

Vince paused for a moment, and darted a look at Johnny, who just nodded.

If you give, you give of your all.

“Stay still,” said Vince, and he began to touch his own cock as he levered himself up and down on Jim’s.

Jim, it turned out, couldn’t stay still. He tried – that much was obvious from the way his heels dug into the mattress and his body started to shake with the effort. As Vince worked him fast, he could feel Jim tremble inside him. Johnny pulled back, and his lip was bleeding – Jim had fucking bitten him.

“Gonna fuck you for that,” said Vince. “Bad, bad man– ,”

Wrong thing to say, because Jim went still, so still Vince would’ve thought he’d passed out if it wasn’t for the tension still in his body. Then he gasped, swore – and pulled at his cuffs, twisting his wrists this way and that against the metal.

“Jim, stop – you’re hurting yourself – shit, Johnny…”

Johnny undid the cuffs. Jim grabbed him, dragging him up by the hair. Kissed him and pushed him aside, and Vince suddenly found himself underneath where he’d been on top; fucked with long, ragged strokes as Jim wrapped his hand around his throat and left a trail of bites along his jaw.

“Up,” he said, and Vince was on his knees, Johnny’s mouth at his dick and Jim hurting him deep inside.

“Tell me,” said Jim, his hand still around Vince’s throat, squeezing hard. “Tell me what a bad man I am.”

Vince couldn’t speak.

“Fuck him, Vince,” came Jim’s voice, and it wasn’t anything Vince had heard before. “Fuck his mouth. Do it.”

Vince did. No choice, really - Jim’s body ramming into him, thrusting him forwards. A stream of swear words falling from Jim’s lips. His other hand, tearing welts down Vince’s chest.

“I love you,” whispered Vince. “I love you so much.”

Jim froze for a second, and his hand moved from Vince’s throat to his mouth, like he was trying to push the words back in. Or catch them.

“Don’t,” he said, and with a single movement of his hips, he sent Vince – and himself – over the edge.

“Don’t what?”

Vince didn’t really expect an answer; Jim was still lost in his world of wherever, eyes open but not seeing what was in front of him.

Maybe he was seeing Vince, somewhere in his head.

After a while, Jim raised a finger to Johnny’s mouth, and wiped the blood from his lip. Johnny smiled down.

“It’s ok, it doesn’t hurt.” He glanced at Vince. “Tell him it’s ok, Vinnie.”

But Vince wasn’t sure anything was ok. He’d seen something unexpected - unwanted, even. He’d opened a door, and now he felt like fucking Pandora, trying to shut the lid on what he’d let out.

Everything was… it was overwhelming. Jim was overwhelming. All this time, Vince realised, Jim had been treading so carefully; focusing on Vince, making life gentle for him. Vince had been where all the emotion and drama centred. His feelings were what ruled their time together.

There was so much more than that. Vince hadn’t even begun to understand the man lying before him, gazing at him now.

Vince had asked though, he’d looked, and now there was no shutting the lid on the box.

“Don’t what, Jim?” he said again.

Jim turned his head and rested it against Johnny’s shoulder, like he was suddenly very tired.

“No, you don’t get to do that.” Vince loomed over him, catching Jim’s face in his hands. “You tell me now.”

“Vinnie. Leave it, yeah?” Johnny’s voice was uncertain. “It was just words.”

“Tell me.”

Jim shut his eyes.

“You already know, Vince.”

“You want me to stop, is that it?”

“Vince -,”

“You want me to put an end to this whole thing, and just walk away? Because that’s never going to happen. I love you, and you can’t tell me not to. Look at me.”

“Vinnie, don’t-,” Johnny put a hand to Vince’s shoulder.

But Jim looked.

“You shouldn’t be here, Vince,” he said quietly. “The things I could do to you…”

“And what the fuck else am I supposed to do?”

“You could… you could go with Johnny.”

Vince sat back up.

“You’d let me do that? You’d just let me go, after everything?”

Jim didn’t seem able to answer.

Vince tried to get his head round the enormity of this. How he’d gone from one moment being safe, feeling his way cautiously through life, to the next – teetering on the edge of something, some great chasm he didn’t dare look into.

Jim could ruin Vince if he liked; he could drown him. Both of them.

Or Vince could do what he said, and go.

“You know what I think?” said Vince. “I think your brain’s addled with too much sex.”

And he lay back down, pulling Jim into his embrace. Jim fought for a moment, then gave up. Relaxed into Vince’s arms and whispered wordlessly against his skin. Vince had a moment of real, true power, then – the knowledge that he had so much more to learn about this man, some of it painful, some of it frightening. That whatever he found out, Vince was never going to leave him. His choice.

He looked at Johnny.

“I want you to stay.”

Because like Jim had said, Vince was greedy and selfish, and he wanted everything he could have.

Johnny just raised a lovely smile to him.

“Is that a yes?”

“Do I get to finish what we started?” said Johnny, tugging on his cock which hadn’t yet been seen to.

“So long as I get to watch.”

“You can do more than that.” Johnny reached for Vince’s hand. “Let’s pretend you love me as much as I love you.”

And before Vince could lie, Johnny kissed him silent. 

Vince woke up ravenous – and alone. The light in the room was fading, and the furniture had already begun to take on that shady, dim shape of dusk.

He sat up; for a fleeting moment, he wondered insanely if he’d been left. But then Jim was at the bedroom door, and he was fully dressed and holding a brown bag that looked suspiciously like –

“Chinese.” Jim dropped it onto the bed and turned the light on. “I thought you’d be hungry.”

Vince started lifting cartons out of the bag.

“We’re saving some for Johnny, right?”

Jim sat down and leant over, running his hand through Vince’s hair.

Balance restored.

“Johnny’s gone. I just dropped him off at the station.”

He sat back and watched Vince carefully.

Vince stared at the carton of Chow Mein he’d been tearing the lid from.

“Did he say where he was going?”

Jim looked away, and Vince knew he wasn’t allowed to tell. That hurt more than it should.

“Vince, are you ok?”

“Huh? Yeah… didn’t he want to stay?”

“Yes.”

“Then –,”

“Because he couldn’t. But he said to tell you he’d come back sometime.” Jim smiled. “And he said to give you this.”

He kissed Vince, and for a moment Vince could see Johnny kissing Jim at the station, in front of everyone. Fuck all the stares, fuck the people; the boy would do what he wanted.

Vince buried his head against Jim’s shirt, and breathed in. Jim’s hand settled on the back of his head.

Stupid, but sometimes Vince thought he could spend the rest of his life like that.

Then he remembered it wasn’t all about Vince anymore, and he lifted his head and smiled.

“Want to go out?”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Bar, cinema, hell there’s even a classical concert on in the church hall. I heard, anyway.”

Jim let his hand slide to Vince’s mouth.

“You really want to go to a concert?”

“I know one of the girls in the orchestra. Used to, at least, before I started seeing my girlfriend. She was a laugh.” Vince bit Jim’s thumb lightly. “You’d like her. She’d like you.”

“Concert it is, then.”

Vince put the food back in the bag.

“Let’s go now.”

“Now? What about dinner?”

“We’ll eat in your precious car. And no, it won’t smell. Not much, anyway.”

“Vince…”

“Now, Jim. I want to go now.”

Jim looked at him, then nodded.

“Get dressed, then. I’ll wait for you in the car.”

He took the food and went out, leaving Vince to pull his clothes on. And maybe cry a little, because Jim couldn’t see him, and because Johnny wasn’t there.

But when he finally left the bedroom, he did it without a backwards glance, knowing Jim was waiting for him.