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  "S...s...s...stay."

  Paul blinked at Peter, then nodded into the dark eyes. "I'm sorry. Please, stay."

  Peter relaxed into his arms, nodding. "P...p...p...please."

  Bowie nodded and something in the man seemed to ease. "Thank you, I will."

  Standing, Bowie came to them and wrapped those muscled arms around them both. They both relaxed, Peter sobbing softly, his hand sliding around Bowie's waist.

  "Sh, sh." Bowie stroked Peter's skin, gave his brother a soft kiss. "We'll figure it out, Peter. You'll see -- it'll all work out."

  Peter nodded. "I...I...I don't w...w...want to l...l...look s...s...scary tomorrow."

  He swallowed his chuckle hard, nodded. "'Kay, Petey. I promise."

  "I would very much like to see you as yourselves tomorrow. Come now. Let's eat and shower and sleep -- no more drama, no more orders, no more tears. Just quiet and together." Bowie gave him and Peter an outrageous wink. "You can go back to being a brat tomorrow, Paul."

  "Oh, good. I couldn't go too many hours." He leaned in and kissed Peter's cheek. "I'll get the juice for us all."

  Chapter Three

  Bowie woke before either Peter or Paul. He considered leaving the bed to find a quiet corner in the suite to meditate in, but decided that if they woke before he came back, they might assume the worst.

  Instead, he sat at the bottom of the bed, closed his eyes to the riotous colors and found a calm place inside himself. It had been a long time since he had made such a misstep as he had made in the last two days. But then, he’d been drawn to the twins from the moment he'd seen them.

  No, that wasn't true.

  He'd been drawn to the twins from the moment he'd heard them. However, he'd stepped in too quickly, made assumptions and tried to bring a balance to them before learning the precarious balance they already had with each other.

  That they needed him was undeniable to him. He felt them tugging inexorably at him. He did belong here, as a part of them, as their anchor. But thrown in between them willy-nilly and he would only drag them into the sea and drown them.

  They both needed to be nurtured. Peter especially needed to be encouraged to step from behind his brother's shadow. Paul needed to believe that he would be seen even if he were not loud and boisterous and selfish.

  They were beauty and passion and love and anger and they needed not only to be molded, but to have a foil. He needed to trust them to recognize that he was the man for both those jobs. And he needed to trust his own heart to care for itself.

  It told him to sink into these two, to let his usual barriers down. This would not work if he was not willing to take that step boldly.

  He would need to listen. To be fair, but firm. Paul would manipulate him at every opportunity, would use Peter against him. He would have to be aware of this always. There could not be any half measures. Once they had decided on a course, they had to follow it. Last night, backing off had proved almost disastrous. He would not make that mistake again.

  Being a Dom was a very serious job. Oh, it was fun and pleasurable as well, but it was a great responsibility. And when your heart was involved the stakes were as high as they could get.

  He felt better. A night's sleep, sorting everything out. He would need to make sure they had a mechanism for a time out for all of them whenever needed -- given Paul's brattiness, he had a feeling they would need it a lot.

  He thought he could hear the twins waking, so he took a few deep breaths and opened his eyes.

  He was going to have to do something about the walls.

  ***

  His head hurt when he woke up -- not pounding or anything, just hurting.

  Peter turned and curled into Paul, nuzzling, trying to encourage that hand to stroke right....

  Oh, there.

  There.

  Thank you, Pauly.

  He'd slept hard, deep, had a bunch of dreams that didn't make any sense.

  Paul's hand kept petting. "Y'okay?"

  He nodded. Yeah, yeah. He thought so.

  "Good morning." Bowie's voice was quiet and soothing and one solid, warm hand joined Paul's on his head. "If you remember, I am the massage master. Where does it hurt?"

  "His hea...." Paul stopped and Peter could feel the heat rise on the smooth skin. "Sorry."

  Peter reached up and brought Bowie's fingers to the places it hurt.

  Bowie murmured softly and began to massage. The man's fingers were large, warm and heavy against his skin, and yet incredibly gently as they smoothed away the hurt.

  "Oh...." He just sort of melted, moaning low as he lay against Paul.

  "He likes that. He likes that, Bowie." Paul's voice was warm, happy, not teasing a bit.

  "It's what I do," Bowie replied. There was a smile in the deep voice.

  "Morning." He got squished a little as Paul leaned in for a kiss, but it was a nice sort of squishing.

  The kiss was soft and wet in his ear and then Bowie leaned down and kissed him, too.

  His own kiss was sloppy, lazy, but he felt relaxed and good, all melty. He figured he'd better enjoy it. Paul would be ready to get up soon and it was his turn to find breakfast.

  Bowie didn't press anything more on him and eventually the lovely massage ended. "We need to talk, my pretty Pets. While we are rested and feeling at peace."

  He nodded, as did Paul, both of them relaxed together. Quiet. It was nice.

  "We can sit here on the bed, or maybe the dining room table would be better. Less room for us to get...distracted."

  "Can we have breakfast, too?" Paul's hand stroked his side. "There's pastries and juice from yesterday."

  "That sounds like a good idea, as none of us had much to eat. Is there a light robe I can borrow? I assume you both have something to cover up with -- you're very distracting as you are."

  He blushed. "L...l...look d...dead." Then he slid out of the bed and dug until he found three robes -- red, green and blue.

  "You don't look dead. Just sort of...terrifying. I'll fix it. I promise," Paul said.

  Peter tugged on the red robe and handed the green one to Bowie.

  "We'll talk about it later. There are other more pressing matters to discuss first," Bowie said, hand lingering on his as the green robe was accepted.

  Bowie led them to the dining room and allowed him to bring out the sweet rolls and juice before insisting they all sit.

  "We need to start on a new foot. We rushed in without discussing anything, and while I do not believe that was wrong, I think we should have stopped along the way to discuss more than just safewords, mm?"

  "It went from fun to serious really fast, didn't it?" Paul poured them all juice. "I mean, we've been here a while and someone like you hasn't even happened before."

  "I don't know that there is someone else like me." Bowie grinned suddenly. "And I don't mean that quite as egotistically as it sounds. The two of you are very different, despite being twins. It takes someone of my temperament, I believe, to recognize that there are different needs beneath the arguing and the armor you use against the world. And, having recognized it, there are not many who would want to deal with you both. Who would be capable of it. I believe that I can give you both what you need without short-changing any of us."

  "B...b...but wh...wh...what...." He sighed, looking up to Paul, who nodded and winked.

  "Yeah. What do you need?"

  "Trust. I expect you to safeword when you need to. I expect you to give me as much as you give each other and yourselves. You're going to have to let me in. All the way."

  "Why do you want to? We're trouble. You saw. Why do you want us?" Paul always knew what to say, what they wanted to know.

  "Because from the moment I heard you arguing while standing in the hallway I was driven to respond. You work well together -- you have found an impossible balance where there should be none. The three of us though...when we get it right? We'll be...like nothing anyone has ever seen before. An interconnected, healthy triangle of give and take,
need and want."

  Bowie looked them each in the eye. "I do not want to be alone all my life, but I won't accept anything less than...the two of you."

  He shivered and Paul tugged him close, settling him in warm arms, before nodding. "We'll try. You.... We've never met anyone like you. Not since we've been together."

  Peter closed his eyes for a second, resting.

  "Yes. It won't be easy and I'm going to want to lay down some ground rules, starting now, that may be hard for you to accept." Bowie's voice lowered, softened. "You must believe, though, that I already care for both of you a great deal. Both of you. And I will not deliberately hurt either of you emotionally."

  Oh. Oh, the tone of Bowie's voice echoed inside him, resonated. He felt Paul shiver before the reaction was hidden in a nod. "What rules? Can we discuss them? Talk about them?"

  "Of course we can talk about them, that is why we're meeting now before we go any further. I have to warn you though -- I will need extremely compelling reasons to change any of the rules I wish to set down, but I will be fair and I will be willing to entertain rules that you wish to bring in."

  He shifted, turning his head so he could see Bowie, giving the man a smile and a nod.

  "Okay. Okay, that's fair." Paul stroked his hair. "Our biggest rule is about meals. We take turns. Otherwise I'd never get meat and Petey'd never get his juice."

  "I will make the menus and order the food. The two of you may continue to take turns cooking." Bowie took a drink of his juice and then looked at them again. "You are both very different and you both need different things from me. The most important rule is that you will not interfere. You will safeword for yourself but never for each other. I will accept it if one of you is incapacitated, but only then. Paul, you may think you know when Peter needs to stop, but he is stronger than you realize. And Peter doesn't understand the strong arm that you need at times. You are both perfectly capable of safewording when you need to and I will not tolerate you interfering with each other, even when done out of love and caring."

  Bowie's eyes moved from his to Paul's and back again. "Is that understood and acceptable?"

  He nodded, but Paul tilted his head. "I'll do my best. I've been taking care of him since I found him. It's hard to let you take control."

  "I know. And I will take that into consideration if you break this rule. That doesn't mean you won't be punished." Bowie gave Paul a wry look. "My hands are going to be sore -- spanking is my preferred method of punishment. I prefer to leave whips and paddles and such for pleasure."

  Paul blushed. "You think your hands are going to be sore? My poor ass...."

  That made Peter giggle, tickled deep down.

  Bowie chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "All you have to do is behave, Paul."

  Bowie cleared his throat and grew serious again. "I want the two of you to assume you may do or say anything you like unless you have been told otherwise. I think we need to assume that we are living the life full time, so anytime I ask or tell you to do something, it will be as your Dom. However, you do not need my permission for things like a slave would. Do you both understand?"

  He met Paul's eyes, looking for answers, for assurance, and Paul nodded, petting his head. "We have to try to trust him, Petey. He's being honest with us."

  "’K...k...k...kay."

  "I expect you to call a yellow light if you need to discuss an order with me, revisit our rules, or clarify a situation. I expect a red light if you need things to come to a complete stop. By way of an example you should have yellow lighted rather than red lighted last night, Paul -- except that it was for Peter and if he couldn't handle it, he should have yellow lighted."

  Bowie gave them a stern look and his eyes settled on Peter. "You must safeword if you need to. I will never punish you for safewording for yourself. Ever. Not safewording when you need to? That could make me leave."

  "I...I...I...." He shook his head, swallowing hard, then looked up at Paul, begging him to hear, to understand. The stuttering was so bad when he was scared and stressed and worried.

  "Stop." Bowie's voice was soft, a big hand coming to take his. "Breathe, Peter. Relax. Take your time. I don't care how long you need to find your thoughts. If we need to, we can continue this discussion when I return from work this evening."

  Oh.

  Oh.

  He held on tight to Bowie's hand, breath slowing, easing.

  "I...I c...can't t...t...talk so well wh...wh...when I'm upset."

  "So safewording might be a problem for you? Not because you don't want to but because you can't get the words out?" He nodded, relief sharp enough to make his eyes fill with tears. Bowie's fingers gently brushed the tears from the corners of his eyes. "That is a very valid concern. We shall have to compensate for it then. Would a gesture for yellow light and another for red light be easier for you to manage?"

  He pushed into Bowie's fingers, nodding. Oh. Oh, Bowie listened.

  Heard.

  Oh.

  Paul's hand was strong and sure on his back.

  "Very well. How about a cutting gesture with the flat of your hand like so," Bowie demonstrated, "for red light and a 't' gesture like so, for yellow light? And we can adapt as needed. Say you were bound, I would give you something to hold and you would drop it to call a halt to the proceedings."

  He nodded, relaxing completely, and gave Bowie a tremulous smile. "Th...th...thank you."

  "It is my pleasure, Peter. In order for this to work, we must all be comfortable and happy. Now you are sure that you will be able to do the hand gestures even if you are too upset to talk?"

  He nodded again, smile easier this time. His voice was broken, not his body.

  "Wonderful. Then you both may safeword either verbally, or with the hand gestures. That will make things easier when we gag Paul." Bowie winked at him.

  He laughed softly, peeping when Paul goosed him.

  "Is that all the rules? Oh, and on the menu thing? We're not great at cooking. I order roast from downstairs, Peter orders fruit salad."

  "That's all you eat? All this fuss about whose turn it is to cook and you order the food in?" Bowie began to laugh, the green eyes twinkling. "Oh, you are a pair!"

  Peter shook his head. "I...I...I c...c...can make noodles. I m...m...make good noodles."

  Paul wrinkled his nose. "They're not good, Petey. They're...noodly."

  He chuckled. Paul was so picky.

  "I will draw up a menu at the beginning of each week and you will take turns ordering the meals on it. And there is one more thing. I would like to live here. I will ask -- I believe it's Kestrel -- for a room either beside or across from here for us to use as a time out room. And I will redecorate and organize this place. The time out room will be plain, merely for meditation and rejuvenation as needed or prescribed. We can make this work without my living here, but it will make things more complicated and they are already quite complicated enough."

  He blushed dark and hid his face in Paul's chest and Paul cleared his throat. "Uh. We. Well, yesterday, we sort of called Kes and you have the rooms next door. Sort of. You'll get a note today."

  "Oh, presumptuous! That was your doing, Paul." Bowie tsked, but didn't seem to be very upset. "That doesn't answer the question of whether I may live here with you though."

  He looked over. "You...you don't l...l...like our h...h...house."

  It wasn't a question, really. He could tell -- the wrinkled nose and rolling eyes gave it away.

  Paul nodded. "We want you here, but this...." Paul gestured to the rooms. "This is how we are. We're not...calm?"

  "Which is why I would maintain the time-out room -- though sometimes I will send one of you there, mostly it will be for me to retreat to. If I stay here, and I do want to stay, I would help you re-organize. Besides, picking up messes is an excellent punishment and also saves my hand wear and tear."

  They laughed together and Peter reached out to drink some juice. He liked Bowie's answers, Bowie's questions. He loved that
Bowie heard him.

  "D...d...do you want your own b...b...bed here?"

  "Yeah, we only have one bed. The other rooms are sort of...."

  He nudged Paul. Scary. They were scary. And filled with...stuff. And scary. Bowie didn't need to see those.

  Paul nodded to him. "Without beds."

  "No, if I stay here, I want to stay with the two of you. That is the point of all this, after all." Bowie's voice had taken on that low, soft tone again. It was intimate and sexy.