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  "Yes, Peter, fuck his mouth, make him know he's sucking you." He kept stroking across the tiny gland.

  "Oh. Oh. B...b...b...b..." Peter gasped, body moving faster, harder.

  Paul grabbed the thin hips, looked up at Peter. "Hey! I'm the one down here, stuttering sam. Go for P...P...P...P..."

  Peter keened, body begging.

  "I hear another word out of you this morning, Paul, I will beat you until you can't sit down for a week." He took his fingers out of Peter and began to push in with his cock. "Now suck!"

  Peter groaned, pushing back onto his cock, eyes closing. Paul's mouth wrapped around Peter's cock.

  He began to fuck Peter, each thrust pushing Peter's cock deep into Paul's mouth. Paul moaned, hands sliding up along Peter, stroking and petting, driving Peter wild on his cock. Together he and Paul pushed Peter higher and higher.

  Peter was gasping, rocking between them, crying out over and over. Beautiful. Perfectly lost to sensation. He flicked at the rings in Peter's nipples, mouth returning to Peter's neck and making his mark bigger, darker. Peter's hands were tangled in Paul's hair, ass clenching him furiously.

  "That's it," he murmured softly. "Paul, push him over."

  Paul hummed and swallowed and Peter cried out, shaking violently as he came. Moaning, he held his own orgasm off as Peter's ass squeezed him tight.

  "Do you want to suck me?" he asked Paul.

  Paul groaned. "Want your cock, Bowie."

  He hummed, pleased, and eased out of Peter's ass. "Then you shall have it."

  "In my mouth or my ass?" Paul nuzzled Peter's belly, watching him closely.

  "I want you to suck me." That had been, after all, what he had offered.

  He stroked Paul's cheek, thumb sliding into that hot mouth. Paul sucked his thumb, head bobbing. It was Peter that moved to clean his cock, the damp cloth shockingly cool on his hot prick.

  Moaning, he pushed against Peter's touch. "Quickly," he murmured, his control slipping.

  "Yes." His boys spoke together and Paul's mouth sank down on his cock, Peter sliding behind him to slip that burning tongue over his hole.

  He gasped, hips beginning to move, pushing into Paul's mouth and then back onto Peter's tongue. Oh, it wasn't going to be long at all, not with his pretty Pets conspiring to send him soaring.

  Paul was moaning steadily, Peter's legs around Paul’s waist, their bodies moving together between his legs.

  He had never experienced anything like it and in moments he was crying out, keening as he came hard.

  His Pets licked and nuzzled him through his aftershocks, then Paul pushed Peter over, fucking his twin with a wild hunger.

  "Stop." He said the word softly, almost conversationally.

  Peter's eyes met him, confused and questioning. Paul shook his head, sobbing, shaking, cock buried deep. "Bowie. Bowie, please."

  He shook his head. "I did not say you could. You may come, but into your own hand."

  "He's mine, Bowie. I want to love him. Peter, please, love, tell him."

  Bowie could see confusion becoming panic in Peter's dark eyes.

  "And you will, Paul. When you have earned it." He held his hand out to Peter. "Come here, Pretty. We will watch Paul perform for us. We will admire his need and his strength and his beauty as he makes himself come."

  Peter's hand reached up for his and he saw the flash of hurt in Paul's eyes a second before it became anger and Peter was shoved away. "Who wants fucking sloppy seconds anyway?"

  "That's it." He reached under the bed again, pulling out a box and searching through it. He tossed a gag, a cock sleeve and nipple clamps onto the bed.

  "Lie on your back, Paul."

  "You're being unfair and mean. You fucking like Peter better because he's a fucking pushover." Paul pushed at Peter again, glaring at him. "Figures that a fucking doormat would never get in fucking trouble and always gets what he wants!"

  "Every second that you disobey me adds an hour to your confinement and a stroke to your spanking. By all means, Paul, continue."

  He held Peter with one arm, stroking the trembling back, keeping his face and tone even, impassive. He would not explain himself or answer Paul's accusations. Frankly, Paul didn't deserve it.

  Paul looked at him with disbelieving eyes and then just screamed, fury and frustration pouring off the pale body, released the only way Paul knew.

  Then, just as suddenly, Paul stopped, breath coming quick and hard. "I'm so mad at you."

  "I know. Lie on your back, please. I won't ask again."

  Paul nodded and settled back, eyes closed, breath hitching. Peter was still as a stone, tears streaking the thin cheeks, eyes hidden behind the pink hair. He gave Peter's shoulders a squeeze, but otherwise concentrated on Paul. One at a time.

  He put the gag on first, not willing to give Paul a chance to lengthen his already lengthy punishment any further. It was soft leather, with a mouth guard that slipped between Paul's teeth. Effective without being overly invasive. The next time, Paul would wear the one with the dildo.

  Then he placed the nipple clamps on, pinching Paul's nipples to raise them up for the tiny teeth. Paul moaned, wiggled, eyes blazing at him. He could see the wealth of emotion there, overwhelming his pet, drowning him. He stroked Paul's arm and then his belly, saddened, but not surprised that Paul had pushed and pushed him to this.

  He stoked Paul's cock back to hardness and slid on the sleeve, keeping Paul hard and caught within the leather confines.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, he patted his own legs. "Assume the position, Paul."

  Paul tried to give another scream of frustration, but didn't safeword, just came to him, settled over his thighs.

  "It brings me no pleasure to do this, Paul."

  With that he began to spank Paul. Over and over again he brought his hand down until Paul's ass shone and his hand burned. Paul's cheeks were wet, soft sobs muffled by the gag.

  He spanked Paul a few more times and then stopped, hand still against Paul's abused ass. "You will do nothing to relieve the pain. You will spend the day in your apartment with Peter and I, serving us. The gag, clamps and sheath will remain in place until I choose to remove them. You will have to earn their removal, Paul."

  Paul nodded, sniffling, shivering a little.

  He helped Paul up and put him into a plain white linen robe, sliding into a silk robe himself before leading Paul back to his and Peter's apartment. Bowie assumed that was where they would find Peter, who had disappeared as soon as the punishment had started.

  The door opened and he caught a glimpse of Peter, fully dressed with wet hair, disappearing into one of the spare rooms. The boy had been busy -- Paul's favorite breakfast was on the table, along with a carafe of his favorite juice. The clothes had been picked up and shoved into the laundry chute.

  Paul looked over at him, questioning.

  "Why don't you go into the bedroom and lie down for awhile? Think about why you were punished. Give me some time to help Peter."

  Paul nodded, then suddenly pushed into his arms for a hug, not staying long, just obviously needing reassurance. He hugged Paul gently, kissed his forehead, and then watched him go. Paul needed to grow up. Especially when it came to his relationship with his brother. Bowie only hoped there would not be too many repeats of today. It took a lot out of all of them.

  He went to the room where Peter had gone, knocking softly. "Pretty? Time to come out."

  The door opened a crack, devastated dark eyes looking at him. "W...w...w...w...w...work...king o...on the r...r...r...r...r..." One tear escaped, sliding down Peter's cheek.

  He held out his arms, heart breaking for Peter. Peter pushed into his arms, sobbing softly, the sound lost and broken.

  He held Peter tightly, stroking his hands down along the slender back. "Sh, sh, sh. It's all right, Peter. Everything's all right."

  "S...s...sorry. So s...s...s...sorry."

  "Oh, no, Peter, you haven't done anything wrong. Nothing at all."

&n
bsp; He tilted Peter's head, brushing the tears off the soft cheeks. "Paul earned his punishment all on his own."

  "H...he's m...mad at m...m...me?" Peter's eyes closed, nuzzling into his hands.

  "Oh, no, Peter. He isn't mad at you at all. He claims to be mad at me, but it is himself he is really mad at."

  He put his arm around Peter's shoulders and led the boy to the couch in the sitting room where they could be comfortable. Peter, who was dressed in thick, fluffy clothes that almost screamed armor, curled up next to him, head on his shoulder.

  "Paul hides behind his words. He's pushy and mouthy and bratty and selfish and that way he never has to give completely of himself. He never risks his heart being hurt. He has to learn to trust and he has to learn to focus his anger and upset where it belongs and that is rarely you though you are where he lets it rest most often."

  He could see Peter's need to defend Paul flare in those eyes. "H...h...he g...gave me e...e...e...e...e...e...." Peter groaned in frustration, hands fisting and then one finger popped up and Peter went to get a commlink with a keyboard.

  "Clever, Pretty," he murmured approvingly. He would have happily waited as long as it took Peter to make the words come out, but it was obviously very frustrating for Peter.

  Peter gave him a smile then started typing.

  "Paul gave up a whole life for me. Everything -- clients. A house. A family. He's not selfish. I owe him. Lots. He saved me. He loved me whenever no one else would."

  Bowie nodded. "Yes, he did a wonderful thing. He did it because he loved you. He did it because it made him happy to do it. But it was his choice to do it, no one forced him. It is not right for him to take his frustrations out on you. Besides, it seems to me that you two have a good life here, that it ended well enough for him."

  He raised Peter's face and looked into the unadorned eyes. "How long must you pay for his love?"

  Tears filled Peter's eyes. "I...I l...l...love him. L...l...love you. I w...w...want us all h...h...happy."

  He gathered Peter into his arms again. "Yes, Peter. And I love you and him and he loves you and... well, I think he will come to love me. And we will all be happy. But it won't be easy. Paul pushes so. He tests. This will not be the last time he is punished and you must not take it personally. Paul is punished because of Paul, not because of you."

  He brought their mouths together, kissing Peter softly. "Paul needs a firm hand. Ultimately he enjoys a firm hand and I do not want you to become so upset every time he is punished or pleasured. What can I do to make this easier on you?"

  Peter curled in, brought his hand up to the spots of tension in the base of Peter's skull. "H...h...hurts. H...help me?"

  He purred and began to massage Peter's skull. "This I can do."

  He turned his pretty Pet so that Peter sat between his legs and first worked the tension from Peter's skull and then expanded the massage.

  Peter melted, relaxing for him, breath smoothing out. "Oh.B...bowie. That feels so g...good." The low voice was smoother than he'd heard it since the night he heard the soft singing.

  "Wonderful. You must ask any time you would like me to do it."

  One of Peter's vertebrae slid into place and a soft, relaxed sigh sounded. "Paul didn't l...like what you did. Wh...why didn't he s...safeword?"

  "Because he didn't like it, but he could take it. You don't safeword just because you don't like something. You do it because it's going to break you if you don't. Very different things will make you and Paul use your safewords."

  He placed a kiss on Peter's neck. "And if I had let him get away with what he did this morning? He would have believed I didn't care enough to bring him back in line."

  "A...am I a doormat?"

  He chuckled. "Because I don't have to beat you to bring you in-line?" He stroked Peter's belly. "No, Peter, you aren't a doormat. You are softhearted and you love a great deal."

  Peter smiled at him. "I...I'm not always g...good. Th...there are th...ings I don't like very much.""

  "Oh yes? Like what?"

  "I... I don't like m...my eyes covered. E...even with the contacts. I don't like it at all." Well, that was interesting. Peter was almost forceful.

  "Why not?"

  "B...b...b...because I l...like t...to know wh...wh...what's g...going on. S...so I'm n...not s...s...s...surprised. S...s...s...s...surpris...s...s...ses sc...sc...scare me. I w...w...watch now." Peter forced the last few words out, looking almost proud of himself.

  "Because of what happened to you before Paul found you?" he asked softly, pushing as gently as he could. Perhaps it was a good thing Paul had acted as he had -- there was no way they could have had this conversation with Peter's overprotective twin in attendance.

  Peter pulled into himself a little bit, but nodded, eyes still watching, still communicating with him.

  "Thank you, Peter, for sharing that with me. I know it isn't easy for you to think about, let alone talk about, but it's important for me to know." He smiled. "I hope we can speak about this again one day soon." Baby steps. He had the patience he needed to allow Peter to go at his own pace.

  Peter relaxed and nodded, leaning into him easily, trusting him. "G...gonna g...g...get Pauly?"

  "Yes, I think that's a good idea. You should get him. He needs to know that you aren't upset with him and then he can serve us our breakfast and if he's very good, we'll set him free after that."

  Peter nodded eagerly, then gave him a kiss. "L...love you."

  He put his hand behind Peter's head and kept Peter there a moment as he deepened the kiss, lingered with it a moment. "I love you, Peter."

  Then he let Peter go fetch his twin.

  It had been a fruitful morning, despite how it might look from the outside, and he was well pleased with both his lovers.

  ***

  He was almost asleep when the door opened. He'd curled around the pillows and cried and fussed and moaned until he was done.

  Tired.

  Empty.

  He didn't want Bowie to go away, but it was so hard. Peter was his responsibility, his brother, his twin.

  And to see Bowie giving Peter what he couldn't, hurt.

  Even more than his ass hurt.

  And that was a lot.

  Maybe even as much as his ass and tits and cock hurt.

  If he added his head, 'cause, man, his head hurt.

  Soft hands smoothed through his hair, petting him, lips sliding over his face.

  Oh. Petey.

  Peter. Love.

  He lifted his chin for a kiss, groaning when the gag was in the way.

  "C...c...come out?" Peter tilted his head, motioning. "P...p...please?"

  His hand was taken and pressed against Peter's heart and he reached out, grabbing Peter's other hand. They sat for a long time, hearts beating together. Thump-pathump-pathump.

  He met Peter's eyes, saw the love that no one else gave him, right there. No matter what, Peter loved him, needed him. Always had. He nodded, squeezing Peter's hand. Okay. Okay, yes.

  Peter gave him a smile and helped him up, hand twined with his as they went to the living area where Bowie waited. Bowie gave him and Peter each a warm smile and met them halfway. The green eyes were soft, gentle, as was the hand that stroked his cheek.

  He sighed and leaned into the touch, nuzzling. He was sorry. He was. He'd just been so mad.

  "Are you hungry, Peter? I'm sure that Paul would love to serve us our meal." There was a little twinkle in Bowie's eyes.

  He could see the worry in Peter's eyes and he squeezed Peter's hand, nodding. He wasn't even embarrassed, which he was sure Bowie expected him to be. He was tired -- tired of controlling his temper and being sure and thinking. This way he could just let Bowie tell him what to do.

  Of course, he was in this fix for not doing what Bowie said. Like pulling out of Peter's ass to jack-off was a real option, ever.

  "Come on then, we'll eat now." Bowie led the way to the kitchen.

  He could feel his ass and his nipples and
his cock with every motion. He was grateful he could stand, giving Peter the pale fruits he loved, pouring Bowie's juice.

  "Are you hungry?" Bowie asked about halfway through the meal.

  He jumped, startled. Everything had been so quiet. He was going to be good and say no, but his belly rumbled.