This isn’t how he pictures the night will go when they all but tackle him to the bed, two pairs of hands make quick work of his clothes, whispered request to keep still, gorgeous, not a word.
Now he’s losing feelings in his arms, hands trapped in the small of his back by a silk tie and his own will. It’s not what Richard prefers, who likes nothing more than cold steel biting into his boys’ skin, the unforgiving physicality of it.
Which means he’s in it for the long haul.
Hands are roaming over his back, kneading, loosening the knots in his abused muscles, but nowhere near where he wants them most. He likes this too, lazy and unhurried, a flicker of heat in his belly, the good sort of on edge.
Until a smack comes down on his backside, not hard, just enough to make him jump a little, breath catching.
‘You know what I think about when I jerk off?’ Palm smoothing over one cheek, careless, like he’s nothing but a piece of meat, an inanimate object. ‘This. I think about grabbing it, just rub the tip of my finger over the crack, shiny with come. I think about hitting it, a belt, or just my hand, until it’s all pink and hot.’
The baritone that follows washes over him like a song, smoky Southern blues born out of nothing but pot and bleeding hearts. ‘Not about fucking it?’
Aidan rubs his cheek over Dean’s shoulder blade, damn near purring. ‘Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing better than a hot, eager hole. But you do get a bit---’ a pause, like he’s seriously drawing up neat columns of pros and cons, ‘---caught up in the action, tunnel-visioned.’
‘Hmm…‘ a sigh, quiet and close, hand pausing in thought. ‘I like watching his face, when you’re eating him out.’
Dean lets out an involuntary sound, hips curling. He should apologize, he knows he should, but he’s not allowed to speak. He cranes his neck with effort, glancing at one then the other, asking for forgiveness, permission, anything.
Richard pats his head absent-mindedly, not sparing him a glance.
‘He makes this, like he’s in pain, like he’s terrified he’ll come without a hand on his dick.’ He has to strain to discern the words, Richard’s voice sinking into a rough rumble. ‘And I know, I know when you put your tongue inside. He looks shocked every, single, time.’ Fingers walk up one side of his ribcage, gathering up the sweat there. ‘He can’t get used to how good it feels. Blushing and fighting it like a virgin.’
‘Christ, yeah.’ Hand sliding along the inside of his thigh. ‘I love it when he clamps down on my tongue, so fucking greedy, even after he’s come already. A bit of teeth and his whole body comes alive, humping the air like a cat in heat.’
Aidan’s pointy little nose at the back of his neck is a shock. So is the change of his tone, sliding from saccharine sweet to poorly leashed growl. ‘You like that, sweetheart? Bet you can feel it, can’t you? My tongue in your ass, curling just right. Won’t even touch you anywhere else, I swear. Just lots of spit, then one finger.’ Dean squirms, legs spread without his brain’s say-so. Richard chuckles, not missing a thing, a lion surveying his domain.
‘Yeah, just like that. The first finger burns, doesn’t it, babe?’ Aidan runs a finger along the crease between thigh and buttock, ignoring the whorish grind Dean does, trying to get that finger closer---closer to where he’s throbbing, empty and clenching around nothing.
‘And you love that, love the reminder of what we did the night before, walking like a cowboy the next day. I’ll go slow for you, gorgeous, sucking around that finger, get it wet so Rich can hear the noises when I twist my hand—‘
Dean pants, ears burning. His dick curving up his belly just from the occasional drag against the cool sheets, and Aidan’s voice gone scratchy with heat, petting him with filthy, pretty words.
‘Fucking tease.’ Richard does something, Aidan laughs, breathless against his shoulder.
‘But one finger isn’t enough for you, not for long. You’ll be pushing back, fucking yourself on it. That’s when I’ll give you another, opening them just enough so I can see, you’ll be all pink and quivering inside…’
Dean almost calls it off then and there. Fuck this, not some nameless faceless piece of tail you can do this to, you can't just…
He trembles and twitches and squeezes his eyes shut, shoulders crawling up to his ears, but he doesn’t say the Word.
‘It will be a tight fit, but I’ll squeeze my tongue in there too. Quick stabs ‘cus I like watching your hole, how it twitches when I blow air across it.’
‘That what they taught you at Gaiety?’ Richard tuts, one big hand pressing down on Dean’s lower back, anchoring as well as restraining. Because, God, as much as Dean wants to stay put, he’s only human---
Soft smack of lips, a parted kiss. Aidan whimpers low in his throat, words forgotten. He gets pretty damn loud when he wants to, slurping and moaning down the phone, a goddamn pro.
Aidan’s voice, when it resumes, sounds dreamy, slurring around the edges.
‘I can tell when he’s close, squeezing my fingers like a glove. That’s when I’ll get you to slide right in, just give it to him, hammering him so hard he can taste it. He’ll be a sobbing mess but he’d still want it. God does he want it.’
All the air in the room seems to have been sucked out. Cement in his lungs and sweat make his eyes sting. Dean’s fingers are flexing and curling within the bound, he’s not gonna last.
‘Awfully considerate of you to put our needs first, ’ Richard says.
‘Oh I’ll have my fun. I like him all loose and slick from you. Like tasting myself mixed with your come there, after.’
Dean’s vision is greying around the edges, involuntary tremors wrecking his whole frame. Those two are still running cruel, cruel hands all over him, stoking the fire.
A thumb skim along his jaw, lovingly, mockingly. Cheeks dimple with the same child-like glee he brings to his acting.
‘Payback is bitch, o brother of mine.’
He misses Richard cuffing Aidan on the head, too busy coughing and sputtering out the mouthful of sheets he swallows.