Braided Page 10

  Loud.

  Traitor.

  So he nodded.

  "What do you think, Peter, has Paul earned the right to have his gag removed so that he can eat?"

  He looked at Peter, who was nodded eagerly, eyes watching him closely.

  "And do you think he can remain quiet without the gag, Peter? Until I allow him speech?"

  Peter's eyes went wide.

  Oh, fuck. C'mon, Petey. Starving here.

  Starving.

  He gave Peter a look.

  Peter nodded.

  That dammed eyebrow of Bowie's went up, but the man got up and moved behind him, working the gag loose. Then Bowie leaned in close behind him, whispered for his ears alone. "If you speak, Peter will take your punishment."

  Oh.

  He turned to took at Bowie, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. No. No. Peter wouldn't even begin to understand.

  He shook a little and came close to safewording, but pushed into Bowie's arms instead, finding the comfort that was there. Bowie held him, hand stroking along his back, stopping before reaching his ass. "All you have to do is stay quiet until I say you can speak," Bowie murmured quietly. "I know you can do it."

  He nodded, an overwhelmed tear falling unnoticed on Bowie's robe before Peter's hand tugged at him.

  "E..e...e...eat."

  Bowie nodded. "Eat. Peter and I have plans for after breakfast."

  Peter had fixed him a plate and poured him some juice and he pulled his brother close, kissed those parted lips in thanks. Then he stood and ate, hungry and thirsty and unwilling to aggravate his sore ass.

  Peter and Bowie finished their meal, Bowie asking the odd question, waiting patiently as Peter stuttered out the answers. He just ignored them, biting hard on his tongue as Peter worked through it. Really, it wasn't terrible, Peter was having a good day, relaxing and managing okay.

  He'd still be faster.

  When they were all finished Bowie asked him to clear and wash the dishes and then join him and Peter in the sitting room. They left together, holding hands.

  Oh, man, the temptation to stick his tongue out was so strong.

  Still, Peter'd made breakfast. So it was his turn. So that would be getting in trouble over nothing. Which was way stupid. And his ass was a little tender for stupidity, so he cleaned up, whistling the entire time.

  When he came to the sitting room it was to find Peter in Bowie's lap, the two of them necking like a pair of kids. His heart ached and he watched for a minute, feeling more and more like an outsider. Peter really didn't need him anymore and Bowie needed a sub, which was what Peter was. He knew Peter loved him, but he wasn't stupid. Peter could fall in love a lot. Peter was good at it.

  Maybe he needed a shower.

  And a nap.

  And to get these stupid clamps off before his nipples fell off.

  "Ah, Paul, there you are." Bowie settled Peter next to him, the green eyes intent on him. "Do you think it's time for your punishment to come to an end?"

  He nodded and sniffed, forcing himself not to get all stupid again.

  "I do as well." Bowie stood. "Peter, will you help me? You can remove the clamps, I'll take off the sleeve and then I would very much like us all to make love."

  Peter came over, humming over his nipples. One clamp came off, only to be replaced by fierce suction, Peter's mouth easing the burn away.

  Bowie purred, moving more slowly, watching them both, admiration obvious in the green eyes. Finally the man was standing near, fingers slowly loosening the leather that bound his cock. As it came away, Peter eased the other clamp off, sucking hard, holding him close. It was so big, so much and he couldn't quite catch his breath.

  Bowie dropped to his knees, green eyes looking up at him as his cock was licked. "Come when you need to, Paul." Then Bowie swallowed him whole.

  He threw his head back, scream trapped in Peter's mouth, those brown eyes loving him. Loving him. Holding him as he sobbed and twisted and came.

  Bowie moaned around his cock, sucking him dry and then nuzzling. Peter held him up, rocking him, humming, breathing hard at his weight. Bowie's fingers were playing with his balls, sliding behind them to tease at his skin there. All the while Bowie licked at his prick, convincing him to stay hard.

  Bowie's fingers found his rings and he shivered, moaning into Peter's lips.

  Bowie growled suddenly. "Bed. Now."

  "C...can P...paulie talk?" Peter's hands brushed his ass and he whimpered.

  "Your call, Peter."

  Peter nodded. "I...i...i...it's unnatural."

  Bowie laughed, eyes lighting up, smile wide. "You may speak, Paul. Try and be nice, hmm?"

  He nodded. "Thanks, Petey."

  Peter grinned and kissed him hard. "L...love you. B...b....b...bed."

  Bowie tugged on the rings in his perineum. "Yes. Bed. Now."

  He gasped and Peter giggled and together they ran, bouncing together on the bed, his ass carefully still in the air. Bowie crawled up between his legs and began to play with his guiche piercings, licking the rings and tugging on them.

  Peter grinned at him, winking. "L...likes."

  Paul gasped, nodded. "Yes, Peter. He likes."

  Bowie growled. "Yes. I like. A lot."

  Two hands spread his extremely sore ass, the pain tempered by the pleasure of Bowie's tongue sliding along his crease.

  "We'll get Petey matching ones." Paul moaned, "Oh, Bowie. Good. I want you to fuck me. I want that so much."

  "Yes," Bowie growled, tongue pushing into him, fucking him. One of Bowie's hands dropped to play with the rings and then his balls and then his rings again.

  "Oh, fuck. Yes. Yes, Bowie. Can you see it? Me and Peter bent over in front of you, plugged, chain connecting us by our rings?" He groaned, whimpering as Peter crawled beneath him, licking his cock.

  "Fuck!" Bowie surged up over him, thick cock slamming into him, taking him hard.

  "Yes!" He screamed, ass afire, body slamming back to meet every thrust. Yes, he needed. Now. Harder. More. Good. Please.

  Bowie seemed to know, and those strong hands grabbed onto his abused ass, fingers digging in as Bowie fucked him. Peter slid out of the way, giving them room to slam together, to rut, his cries growing higher and louder and needier.

  One of Bowie's hands slid down to wrap around his cock, pulling hard as Bowie grunted and pushed into him. He jerked, pushing back, fucking himself furiously on that fat cock. Bowie was like a machine, just pounding into him again and again, fingers tight around his cock and hard against his ass.

  "Paul, yes. Good."

  "Needed this. Oh, fuck, Bowie. Needed you." His eyes rolled, cry filling the air.

  "I know." Bowie moved harder, faster. "Come for me, Paul. Show me."

  He sobbed, shaking hard, spunk spraying as his body responded to Bowie's will. Bowie thrust several more times and then came, filling him with heat. He collapsed onto the bed, hearing Peter's soft cry of completion distantly.

  Bowie slid out of him, settled next to him, Peter on his other side.

  "So good, Paul, so lovely." Bowie's words were soft, as were the hands that slid along his back.

  He pressed closer, drinking up the praise. "Even if I get angry sometimes?"

  "You're only human," Bowie murmured, giving him a grin. "Seriously, Paul. I'm not going to leave because you can be a mouthy brat. That will just make me work harder, hmm?"

  "I just don't want you two to leave me here alone."

  Peter gasped, scooted closer, wrapping around him. "P...p...p...p...pauly!"

  Bowie growled softly. "That won't happen, Paul. I will go before I split the two of you apart."

  He buried his face in Bowie's hair, whispering. "But he loves you and you like him. I know. I'm scared that no one will need me."

  Bowie held him tightly. "He loves me, but I can't replace you in his life. I'm not you." Bowie chuckled. "Besides, I'd grow bored without your bratty ways."

  That surprised a laugh out of him, and Pe
ter cuddled up against his back.

  "Never question your place, Paul. Even tied up and gagged, we both know you're here."

  "I like non-gagged, thanks."

  Bowie chuckled again. "That depends on you, doesn't it, Pet?"

  He nodded, wiggling his ass, feeling the burn. "Yes, Sir."

  Bowie gave him a long, deep kiss and then leaned past him and gave Peter one as well. "Love you, my Pretties."

  "L...love you, Bowie. P...p...pauly."

  He turned and kissed Peter, then nuzzled into Bowie's arms.

  "I think we all deserve a nap." Bowie sounded very sure.

  Peter pulled the covers up. "N...n...naps are good."

  He nodded, already snuggled in, already sleeping.

  Yes. And when he woke, they could play and this time, he'd mind his manners.

  Better.

  Chapter Six

  Peter woke up before Paul and Bowie, took a long shower, alphabetized the inks backwards, and then went for a walk. He went to the shop and checked tomorrow's appointments. Hugged Desmond. Got hugs from Kestrel.

  He sat and watched Moffat do something neat with kumquats. Then he got some celery for the lizards and a cup of berries for him. Kestrel stopped him again and asked about where to get work done outside the club. Then he helped Harley figure out his new costume. It was late then, so he picked up some food from Moffat who teased him about his hair and he headed home.

  Bowie and Paul had moved from the bed to the couch in the sitting room, bodies slowly undulating together. He smiled at them, held up the food and then whistled for the lizards, shaking the celery.

  They turned to him, Bowie's hand reaching for him. "We're lopsided, Peter."

  He grinned and set the celery down on the floor, their supper on the table, then settled in for his kisses.

  "Did you have a nice wander, Petey?" Paul looked relaxed, lips all swollen and kissed.

  He nodded, tasting Paul's mouth gently.

  Bowie purred. "You two are the prettiest things. Especially when you do stuff like that."

  Paul moaned for him, fingers sliding through his hair to pull him closer, deepen the kiss and make him all shivery and melted. Bowie's hand slid over his back, fingers digging in and massaging. His happy little sound pushed right into Paul's mouth, body almost melting at the touch.

  "Oh, Bowie. What are you doing?" Paul's eyes were curious, dark, lovely.

  "Touching." Bowie's other hand slid over Paul's shoulders, fingers working Paul's back.

  Paul moaned and snuggled back. "Do Peter, Bowie? It made him all boneless and melty. Made him so pretty."

  He blushed dark, burying his face in Paul's shoulder.

  "How do you want him?" Bowie asked Paul, even as those thick, knowing fingers began to work his scalp and neck.

  "Resting on me. Want to feel what you do."

  Peter wasn't really paying attention, he was busy melting.

  Paul and Bowie got them all shifted until he was lying on Paul, Bowie behind him, working his back muscles. Those were the most amazing hands.

  He curled in, humming softly, Paul stroking his hair, his face. "Oh, man. Bowie. I didn't realize how much tension was in him. Look at his face. He looks young."

  Paul was so weird.

  Bowie continued to work his muscles, fingers sliding and pressing. "I see him, Paul. I see you both."

  When Paul's fingers slid by his lips, he caught them, sucking them in, tongue sliding over the tips.

  Bowie made a soft noise, but didn't stop massaging him. Instead the massage moved downward, the knowing fingers working his ass and then his legs.

  Oh. He started to get hard, but was so relaxed he didn't want to wiggle. Paul grinned at him, nuzzling. "No one'll know but me and Bowie. You just go with it."

  Bowie grunted an agreement and then began to undress him, pulling off his shoes and socks and then his pants, fingers warm and good against his skin, the massage suddenly even more intense.

  He moaned around Paul's fingers, the suction rhythmic, echoing through his body, amplified by Bowie's hands. Bowie even massaged his feet and then carefully worked off his shirt and massaging his back and shoulders again.

  Peter was so hard he was hurting, but fully relaxed at the same time. Paul was hard, too, and watching him with this intensity that made him blush, made him look away. The movement of Bowie's fingers grew less massaging and more caressing.

  "Mmm... I bet you could touch him deep inside and he'd let you in. He's so relaxed, all boneless." He blushed again at Paul's words, shifting a little so their cocks were sliding together.

  Bowie moaned, heat covering his back. He could feel Bowie's fat prick, hard against him. "Do you want that, Peter? Do you want my hand inside you?"

  He groaned, eyes flashing up at Paul, looking for envy or anger, and finding hot need. Paul's fingers stroked his cheek, so soft. "I'll be right here, right with you, every breath, Peter. It'll be all of us right here."

  Peter took a deep breath, nodding. Oh, yes. All of them. Right there.

  Bowie just purred and moved away, coming back soon with a tube of lube and a kiss for the small of his back. "Gonna be inside you, Peter."

  Paul nuzzled his jaw, humming. "Always wanted to see you like this, Petey. All wanting and happy and close. I mean, I've seen it, but now I can just hold you and just see it, feel it, you know?"

  He grinned and begged a kiss. Yeah, Paul was weird.

  Bowie leaned up, pressing into their kiss, sharing it with them. Oh, that was good. It made him relaxed and harder all at the same time, Bowie and Paul and him, all mixed together.

  Bowie was still kissing him and Paul when the first finger slid into his ass. Thick and warm and slick.

  He moaned into their kiss and felt Paul's grin against his lips. "So pretty."

  "You both are," murmured Bowie. "My Pretties."

  One last kiss and Bowie was settled behind him, spreading his legs to either side of Paul's as a second finger slid inside him. Paul kept kissing him, hands warm and familiar on his shoulders, his spine, keeping him quiet and relaxed and easy.

  A third finger slid into him, a little thicker than Paul's would have been, but familiar nonetheless. Bowie's free hand was sliding along his back, traveling his spine and melting any tension that dared to even think about settling in his neck.

  It felt good, warm, like he was floating. Paul was still and sure underneath him, Bowie hot and strong above him.

  "You glow, Peter. And it's not the pink, you glow through the pink." Bowie's words were soft, spoken in that wanton, needy tone. "Another finger, my Pretty."

  Paul stroked his forehead, just smiling at him, and he rested down against Paul's chest, nodding. He could do anything for them. Anything.

  Bowie was stretching him so wide, fingers kind of turning in a circle and moving slowly in and out of him.

  Oh. He pulled his knees up, trying to ease the pressure, spread wider. Paul's hands settled him, held him. "You just relax, Peter. Don't think."

  Bowie's free hand settled in the small of his back as the hand inside him disappeared. His skin was smoothed, Bowie's fingers digging deep.

  "I'm getting more of the slick stuff and then it'll be my hand, Peter. Filling you up, loving you. This'll stretch, maybe burn, but it shouldn't hurt you."

  He nodded, the massage on his lower back relaxing him as much as Paul's fingers in his hair. He didn't know what his body was feeling -- arousal, relaxation, anticipation, need, peace. It was complicated and dizzying so he took Paul's advice and stopped thinking.

  "Here I come, Peter-Pretty. This is me, Bowie, melding with you and Paul, loving you." The pressure against his hole was incredible, stretching him, Bowie pushing in and in and in.

  He keened softly, eyes wide as heat and burn spread through him.

  Paul's fingers shook on his head. "Bowie? It's okay?"

  Bowie's fingers worked the bundle of muscles in the small of his back, fist still pressing in. "He's fine. You're fine, Peter. Rela
x and let me in. You're surrounded by love, let it inside, too."

  Peter took a deep, deep breath, feeling something inside him ease, stretch further than he believed he could.

  "L...l...love."