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Alternate's Universe

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“Apologize,” the older man said, pushing his hips forward again, thrusting deep into Ford. Ford choked on his breath, but the man in front of him caught it, pushing his own air back into Ford and rubbing over the bare skin above his ribs. Ford broke the kiss and tried turning around to the man behind him, but it was at that moment the one on his knees hummed, and Ford’s body arched of its own accord, sending his head onto the shoulder behind him, looking up into dark eyes instead of turning on even level to them. He shivered, and opened his mouth to speak but a moan was coaxed from him instead.

“Didja hear what I said, Sixer?” the older one said, tightening the grip on Ford’s hips so tight, there were sure to be bruises tomorrow. Ford panted, head lolling to either side as he tried to lift his head back up on his own.

The one standing in front of him was no help as he was pressing kisses to Ford’s neck, delicately teasing him with the way he was touching Ford—finding ticklish points and sucking a hickey, causing Ford’s breathing to go more uneven. Pinching his nipples and rubbing them between thick fingers with callouses that said he spent a lot of time behind the wheel. Ford panted, looking at the Stan working his chest and kissing him so deeply through lidded eyes.

He was distracted by a slap to his ass, eyes immediately searching out the older Stan above him, the hairy shoulder he was still resting his head on, the strange angle that should be uncomfortable but isn’t, between the four of them. The older Stan was grinning, a sharp, too-intelligent smile for what he normally associated with his brother. This smile was trouble waiting to happen, a calculated trouble that promised it could be so, so good , if Ford went along with it.

“W-what?” Ford asked, barely able to speak through all the stimulation he was receiving. Old Stan thrust particularly hard and his whole body was pressed forward again, chest bumping into Stan, dick jumping down the youngest Stan’s throat. He could feel drool welling at the edges of that Stan’s mouth as he sucked Ford’s dick, could feel the sloppy way the younger Stan took him into his mouth, the dick shoved down by the thrusts coming from the older Stan behind Ford.

“You’re practically face-fucking the kid, and you’re not even sorry, Stanford. Apologize,” old Stan growls at Ford. Though he says it with a thrust that sends them all forward again, his cock slipping further down young Stan’s throat, gagging him. Stan pulls off for a second, wiping his mouth on Ford’s hairy thigh, before licking over the head again, looking up as if waiting for instruction or approval. Or an apology.

Older Stan thrusts deep and stays still, fingers tight on Ford’s hips and keeping him from moving and thrusting back on Stan’s dick. Ford was sweaty and flushed, and he already missed the punishing rhythm of the older Stan moving against him. He’d been so close, but now Stan was waiting for him to find the words to—to what again? Oh, right—

“Sta-stanley, ah —“The Stan standing in front of him tweaked his nipple and twisted it. It hurt, but still felt good.

“Be more specific,” regular Stan murmured, looking Ford in the eye as he brought his hands up to cradle Ford’s head. Moved it just enough that it was off old Stan’s shoulder, and he could better see the teen kneeling by his spread legs.

The old Stan behind him chuckled, his hot breath catching in Ford’s ear, sending a new wave of shivers down his spine. He could feel the giant hairy gut pressed against his back, keeping him in place just as surely as the cock up his ass and the hands holding tight to his waist were.

“My apologies, teen Stanley,” Ford started, bringing one hand to caress Stan’s face, the other to card through his hair. He wiped a bit of drool and precum off Stan’s lip, flicking it to one side as he looked the younger Stan in the eye and struggled to think clearly through the haze in his mind. “I should have been more careful in how I treated you.” Ford smiles at him and the younger Stan’s eyes are shining, with excitement or tears or something else—

Before Ford has a chance to analyze what, exactly , that is, the older Stan looking over his shoulder presses a kiss to Ford’s neck, adjusts his grip, and then starts pounding back into him. Ford doesn’t have time to prepare himself, and he wails, because the adjusted position is starting to hit his prostate dead on.

“Climb back on, little man, you’re gonna love this next part,” old Stan instructs behind him. He feels the younger Stan pump his cock a few times, before lips find the head and start sucking for all he’s worth, hand still working the shaft.

Ford cries out, shaking,now, unable to hold back his reactions. The Stan in front of him holds him up, arms wrapped around Ford and kissing him again, as deep as he can as Ford writhes and moans in his arms.

“St-stans, I-I’m close—“he manages to say.

“Go ahead, Sixer,” the Stan behind him says. Ford shouts when his building orgasm finally hits, painting the back of young Stan’s throat, and then his face as the teen pulls off, coughing, unready for the moment. Ford pays him no mind as he goes boneless in the post-orgasm drop of energy.

But he doesn’t get to enjoy that long, for the man behind him has not stopped pounding into him.

“Stanley—please— ahh! S tan! ” he shouts, unbearably oversensitized, as the older man keeps fucking into him, slamming into his prostate with his thick cock.

“What, didja think this was just for you? Not gonna let yer little brother cum, too? Just as selfish as I remember, huh?” Stan asks, keeping pace. Ford shakes his head, unable to answer as his brain whites out in overstimulation.

A slap to his ass brings him back, and then another slap has him calling out once more.

“I’m almost done, and then ya gotta take care of these two. Having three lovers ain’t a walk in the park, Sixer. I should— hnng —know.” Older Stan interrupted himself with a groan and his hips started stuttering unevenly. Ford whimpered with every thrust into him now, and despite having just cum so hard he saw stars, he thought he felt himself start to stir with interest, just slightly.

Old Stan came with a low, abortive grunt, turning higher at the end and with a great exhalation of breath against Ford’s ear. He stayed inside Ford a little bit longer before pulling out, somewhat out of breath behind him.

Ford felt like he was made of jelly. He trembled as he felt the hot cum cooling and start to slip out of his hole, lightly slipping down his legs. Regular Stan looked over him and kissed him again. Ford contributed nothing to the kiss, too blissed out to do much more than stay standing, albeit a wobbling stance.

“He doesn’t have to, if he’s too tired,” the Stan his age says, looking past Ford to the man behind them. “You know how he gets.”

Ford wanted to ask what that meant, but his tongue was heavy in his mouth, and he couldn’t focus on the words he wanted to ask.

“Yeah, I do know. That’s why he needs to learn now. C’mere, Sixer,” old Stan dragged him backwards, setting Ford on the edge of the bedspread, sitting next to him and propping his neck in a hold with one large hand, so he could see the other two in front of them clearly. “Watch and learn, and do better next time, Sixer,” he says to Ford.

Then he turns to the younger two, gesturing loosely. “Help finish the kid off. Give Ford a demonstration of what a good brother does for his lover.”

Regular Stan looked to the pair on the bed before down between his legs to where the teen Stan had been sitting. He helped lift the kid to his feet, pushing the other’s boxers down and stroking his counterpart’s dick. Regular Stan glanced uncertainly at the pair on the bed again, and Ford tried shaking his head of the sleepy haze trying to settle in. He didn’t want older Stan to hate him for missing the “lesson.”

“Whatcha waitin’ for? I know you know what to do, rambler.”

Regular Stan nodded, looking wistfully at Ford for another moment before turning back to his teen self. He lined their dicks up together, spat in his hand for some extra lubrication, and began stroking them together.

The younger Stan gasped and closed his eyes immediately, overtaken by the feeling. Regular Stan lifted his hand to hold teen Stan’s cheek, tenderly, the way Stan had been holding his face earlier.

It didn’t take long, with as hard as they both were, for the pair of them to come. Younger Stan, first, shouting and biting into his fist to try and stifle the noise. An instinct he hasn’t had time to grow out of. Ford watched as regular Stan milked him through it, giving him a kiss on the forehead before leaning over to rest on his shoulder, jacking himself quickly to follow the orgasm. When regular Stan came, he moaned against the other, what Ford thought was Ford's name, and Ford blushed.

“Good job, sport. Get over here, why don’t’cha?” old Stan asked, shuffling back on the bed and dragging Ford with him, not bothering to get below the covers. “And take the rest of yer clothes off. It’ll be easier.”

The Stans finish disrobing and join them on the bed.

“Now, pay attention, Stanford. This part is important. Y’know what we’re gonna do now?” old Stan asked. Ford shook his head, feeling stupid.

“We’re gonna cuddle.”

Ford opened his mouth to reply, but then shut it again. He scooted himself over, closer to old Stan, to make room on the bed.

“Lemme show ya--it’s all about the angles, trust me,” old Stan said. There were a couple of cracks in his back and shoulder, but he dragged Ford so he was half lying on top of him, and Regular Stan slid under his other shoulder, providing a lumpy, uneven cushion between the two of them.

“Get up here, kiddo,” Stan gestured to the teen Stan. Regular Stan fitted his arms low around Ford’s waist, head tucked to the back of Ford’s neck. Teen Stan climbed over Ford’s lap and settled his head to Ford’s stomach like a pillow, arms wrapped around his thighs.

They were all tangled together, when all was said and done. He couldn’t practically tell where one of them started and the other ended. He had somebody’s hair in his mouth. But he didn’t mind. It was-- it was good. Almost better than being pulled in three directions, earlier, was. Almost.

Old Stan and the teen fell asleep first, grips equally tight but with vastly different strengths around him. It was the Stan his age, from another universe, that stayed awake longest, just barely managing to catch Ford before he dropped off as well.

“We’re not gonna let you go this time, Stanford. You’re ours. You’re mine. Until the end of time .”