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Off the Hook

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Miles remembered very well the day that Bass decided to have the chandelier in the bedroom removed. It was true that they couldn’t exactly use it anymore for its intended purpose (unless they replaced all the light bulbs with candles, and even then it seemed like a fire hazard), and Bass made another valid point. “The hook in the ceiling could come in... handy.”

He remembered that conversation quite clearly, as he walked in to find that Bass had indeed found a better use for the hook. A shirtless prisoner, with a canvass bag over his head, was suspended by the arms from a sturdy rope which looped over the hook and was fixed at the head of their bed to one of the posts.

“What’d he do?” Miles asked casually and poured himself a drink.

“Where do I start?” Bass had circled the suspended man with the look of a ravenous beast. “Insubordination, sass... preferential treatment.” Miles quirked one of his eyebrows in Sebastian’s direction.

“What kind of preferential treatment?” he asked and took a sip of the whiskey.

“The kind that makes me angry,” Bass replied through clenched teeth.

“Well, we can’t have that,” Miles concurred and moved closer to Bass, gently brushing the back of his hand against the President’s cheekbones. “And I’m happy to torture him for you, Bass, only... why did you bring him into our bedroom?” Miles whispered the last bit into Monroe’s ear, brushing his lips against the earlobe as he spoke.

“Because, General Matheson,” Bass turned to Miles and wrapped his fingers around the collar of his jacket, possessively. “This lowlife was showing preferential treatment towards a commanding officer other than myself.”

“That’s..,” Miles swallowed a lump in his throat and drew his hand to the small of Monroe’s back, pressing him closer, “Treason. Obviously.”

“Yes, he’s a treacherous dog,” Bass growled, his own hands brushing past Miles’ belt and drawing his General’s dagger out of the sheath behind his back. Freeing himself from Miles and his smirking embrace, he walked up to the shirtless man and drew the flat edge of the blade against his chest. “I should carve him up like a turkey.”

The restrained man shivered and made a muffled sound which indicated to Miles that he was most likely gagged underneath the canvas bag.

“Don’t get your hands dirty,” Miles said calmly and drained the remnants of his whiskey.

With a flick of his wrist, Bass had cut the band of his prisoner’s slacks, causing them to slide down his legs and rest in a tangle around his ankles. Having inspected and admired his handiwork, he turned back towards Miles with a self-satisfied grin. Miles inclined his head to the side, his curiosity peaked.

“Take off the bag,” he finally said, locking eyes with Monroe.

“Why, Miles? You see something you like?”

“Don’t know yet. Take the bag off, Bass.”

“What, don’t you recognize all your men when they’re naked below the neck?” Something akin to true ire flashed across Monroe’s face. The tethered man moaned once more in his bonds.

Miles walked up to his best friend and grasped the wrist of his knife-wielding hand. “A part of me loves it when you get all jealous,” he whispered in Monroe’s ear. The knife trembled and Bass relaxed his hold on it, letting it fall to the ground, just missing his boot. Miles shook his head at him, and then brought the arm he had been holding up and pressed his lips to the part of the wrist where his fingers had left angry red marks. “Now, unbag him, Bass.”

“Fine, Miles, but I still get a first go at him,” Bass smirked and walked over to the prisoner, ripping the bag off his head with one swift movement.

“Hello, Jeremy,” Miles greeted the prisoner. “How’s it hanging?”

The noise Jeremy made against the gag in his mouth, while utterly muffled, could very easily have been interpreted as telling Miles to go fuck himself.

“See? This is what I meant by insubordination and sass!” Bass wrapped the fingers of his left hand around Jeremy’s throat.

“I see,” Miles agreed, his eyes smiling while his mouth remained still. “And what was that about preferential treatment?”

“I often find his mouth occupied with someone else’s cock,” Bass whispered close to Jeremy’s ear, licking a long stripe up the ligaments of his neck.

“Mine?” Miles asked with a look of feigned innocence. “What do you have to say for yourself, Jeremy?” He came up to the suspended man, his body flush against the other’s exposed flesh. Jeremy tried to spit something into the gag again. “Hm... not much, I see,” Miles gave him another infuriating smirk. “But, Bass, darling, we’re going to have to ungag him if you plan on punishing him in proportion to his offenses.”

“But he’s just going to mouth off then, Miles, you know how he is.”

“Yes, quite snarky is our Captain Baker.” Miles ran his hands down Jeremy’s chest, pausing to give his nipples a firm squeeze. “Nevertheless.” Miles walked away and untied the rope from the bedpost, allowing it to slacken a few feet. “On your knees, soldier!” he snapped, as he retied the rope at the new length as Jeremy obediently dropped to his knees.

Bass slowly drew the rag out of Jeremy’s mouth, and threw it to Miles, who realized upon catching it that the rag had actually been his own boxers.

“Um... Bass?” Miles waved his undergarment in the air like a flag.

“It seemed... appropriate.” Bass shrugged and glared at Jeremy again in such a way that Miles wondered how much of their little game had actually been real. The thought of Bass harboring any kind of jealous suspicions about any man, even Jeremy, was completely ridiculous to Miles. It simply did not compute.

“You’re a sick fuck, Monroe!” Jeremy finally managed, once he was able to move his jaw properly again.

“Obviously that pretty mouth of yours needs to be otherwise occupied,” Miles suggested calmly, approaching Jeremy yet positioning himself behind Bass. He pressed a kiss to the back of his best friend’s neck, while his fingers unbuttoned Bass’ fly with practiced ease.

“Yes, Sir,” Jeremy answered, looking up at the two of them with a hint of glee in his eyes.

“See how eager he is to obey your orders?” Bass gasped as Miles found his cock and pulled it out of his trousers.

“I’m sure as eager as he is to polish your barrel, Mr. President. Right, dog?” Miles glared at Jeremy over Monroe’s shoulder, his hand slowly stroking the length of his best friend’s rapidly growing erection.

“All you had to do was ask,” Jeremy replied, and licked his lips purposefully.

“Good dog,” Miles uttered, his voice low in his throat, as he pushed Bass forward and practically put his cock in Jeremy’s open mouth himself. Bass moaned at the feel of Jeremy’s lips and expert tongue and grasped his hair with both his hands, beginning to fuck his mouth at a steady rhythm. His eyes quickly sought out Miles, who was watching them from the edge of the bed. It was sensationally dirty having Miles watch while Jeremy slobbered all over his cock like that, and Bass enjoyed every shade that Miles’ already naturally dark eyes took on as he observed him thrusting into their pet’s throat.

“God, Miles...” Bass stammered a bit and clenched his fingers tighter in Jeremy’s short, blond hair. “He’s so fucking good at this...”

“I know,” Miles answered, feeling the increasing tightness in his own pants, as he watched Sebastian’s cock piston in and out of Jeremy’s skillful mouth. He leaned back and enjoyed the show, feeling himself stiffen more surely as Bass slowly lost more control from Jeremy’s oral exertions.

“Fuck...” With a final thrust, Bass ejaculated deep into Jeremy’s throat, the other man’s nose practically buried in the curls of his own pubic hair. Jeremy was exceptionally good at taking it.

“All done?” Miles got up off the bed and wrapped his arms around Bass’ slumping form.

“Yeah,” Bass exhaled, letting go of Jeremy.

“Feel better?” Miles asked, nuzzling along Monroe’s neck, his hands quickly readjusting his lover’s pants for him. Bass mumbled consent and pulled Miles in for a kiss.

“Good. Now go lie down while I take care of business.” Bass gave Miles a somewhat confused look as the latter pulled on the rope again, yanking Jeremy off his knees and back into the fully suspended position in which he found him.

“What the fuck, Miles?” Jeremy practically squealed, his arms straining against the restraints. Silently, Miles pulled at his trousers, which were still tangled up around his ankles, until both his legs finally swung free.

“It’s my turn, soldier. Now, remember, no preferential treatment.” He cast Bass a quick look and chuckled. “Whatever the fuck that actually means.” With that Miles grabbed Jeremy by both thighs and wrapped his legs around his own waist.

“Oh shit,” Jeremy grabbed on with his legs, trying to get some kind of purchase on the whole situation. “Sir, yes, Sir.” Miles looked up at him appreciatively and ran his hands up his naked torso, which was by then covered with a thin sheen of perspiration. Finally, he rested his hands on the globes of Jeremy’s ass and squeezed firmly.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, Miles,” Bass murmured from the bed, where he had at last reclined in his own post-coital slump.

Miles, in the meantime, managed to free his own cock from the confines of his slacks and was slowly rubbing it up against Jeremy’s exposed ass.

“You want this, dog?” Jeremy moaned in response and tried to bite Miles’ lips, but the other man was too far away from his teeth, buttressing Jeremy’s weight from below, hands intermittently grasping his ass and caressing his sides and back. “Yeah, you do,” Miles growled, his voice steady and low again. “Toss me the oil,” he motioned towards the bed.

“Hm?” Bass had to tear himself away from the show in order to check in the bedside drawer for the lubricant. Finally finding what he was looking for, he tossed it over to Miles with impressive precision. “I’m just gonna... lie right here,” Bass informed the other two, his hand sneaking back towards his own rapidly reawakening erection.

Miles quickly squirted some oil into his palm to run it along the length of his cock, which now slid eagerly along the crease of Jeremy’s ass, while Miles’ hands spread his cheeks and toyed with his puckered hole.

“Dammit, Miles... come on,” Jeremy begged.

“Desperate little puppy,” Miles teased and kneaded the globes of his lover’s ass. The other man strained against the rope, making the bed creak, and applying pressure around Miles’ hips with his strong thighs - the years of horseback riding paying off in more ways than one. A soft moan from the direction of bed caused Miles to look away and lock eyes with Bass. “Should I give it to him?” Miles asked his best friend. Bass, who had begun to slowly stroke himself, nodded in silent consent. “You want this cock inside you, don’t you, dog?” Miles directed his look up towards Jeremy’s flushed face.

“God, yes! Please... Sir... fuck my ass.”

Miles braced his feet more firmly against the floor and adjusted Jeremy’s weight around his hips, finding his mark with his throbbing cock. At last, he wrapped his fingers around Jeremy’s shoulders and pressed him down onto himself, breaching his entrance, tearing a deep moan from the other man’s throat. Miles had to use a lot of his own concentration on preserving his balance, thrusting up into Jeremy’s tight heat with unfettered power.

“Fuck, yes!” Jeremy’s eyes rolled back into his head as Miles impaled him with firm precision. “God, you’re huge!”

“Yeah he is,” Bass mumbled from the bed, his hand picking up its pace on his own cock as his eyes trailed all the way up from where the other men were connected in heated rutting along the length of the rope, wondering idly whether it would hold. Jeremy’s moans were become louder and more erratic as Miles kept up his pace, fucking him upwards as if he was a ragdoll.

“You like that, don’t you, bitch?” Miles gave Jeremy’s ass a firm slap, his face pressing to Jeremy’s chest, his lips and teeth grazing against the heated flesh there.

“Oh, God, yes!”

Miles pressed Jeremy closer and whispered, “Fuck, you feel amazing,” just softly enough for Jeremy alone to hear. “Take it, dog!” he said louder and watched Jeremy’s head drop backwards as if he was about to lose all control. As if taking pity on his toy, Miles clenched one arm firmly around Jeremy’s ass, while the other one came up to stroke his cock firmly between their abdomens. “I’m gonna fill your ass now,” he announced, his tone teetering between the threat and the promise.

“Fuck... do it! Oh God!”

Miles could feel his breath catching in his chest. He could barely keep himself from spilling right then and there. But he held back long enough to face the bed again, “Bass?”

“Go for it,” Bass echoed him, lazily, closing his own eyes and increasing the speed of his hand on his own cock. “Go on, baby,” he repeated and spilled into his own fist, just as he heard Miles cry out into Jeremy’s sweats-soaked skin as he unloaded into his his tightly clenching ass.

Miles continued to stroke Jeremy’s cock through his own orgasm, until the latter came undone around his cock and came with his own guttural cry, spilling all over his own chest. That was about all the control Miles thought he could have and he cast an imploring look towards the bed. Bass emitted a noise that was close to purring, his own eyes half misted over with pleasure, and reached up to the bedpost, releasing the rope.

Miles buffered Jeremy’s fall with his own body, both of them tumbling to the floor with a collective groan of release. Bass reached down from the bed with his foot and kicked the knife over to where Miles and Jeremy lay, sweaty and panting from their mutual exercise.

“Thanks, love,” Miles muttered, reaching for the knife and slicing the ropes around Jeremy’s wrists.

“God damn,” Jeremy emitted. “When you say you want play time, Monroe, you really really mean it, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Bass grinned complacently at both of them from the bed. “But think of it this way, Jeremy,” he continued, drawing aside the covers and patting the bed next to him. “At least you’re off the hook for a while.”