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They're not *that* late, but Charlie couldn't tell that by the plaintive voice drifting from the bedroom to the front door, where he and Olivia have just come in.

"About time, you guys."

Olivia looks at him and rolls her eyes. "He's started without us again."

"Yep," Charlie agrees. "Might as well go see what the fuss is about."

They shed their coats, walking toward the back room, and both stop dead in their tracks at the doorway. Lincoln's--

Lincoln's on the bed, kneeling and naked, cock bobbing and leaving wet smears on his stomach. Charlie can see the drawer next to the bed hanging open and the half-squashed tube on the bed, and now that he looks closer he sees that Lincoln's arm is stretched behind him and he wonders how many fingers the kid's got shoved up his own ass already.

"Wow," Liv says, sauntering in for a better look and sounding nonchalant, although Charlie appreciates the way her nipples have come to full attention. "We could have been anyone. Robbers come to take your stuff."

Lincoln glares, a hilarious expression given his current position. "Someone needs to fuck me *right now.*"

Charlie just tsks and moves into the room, starting to wrestle with his clothes. "Someone's in too much of a rush. The rest of us need to catch up."

"I can help with that." Lincoln's fingers emerge from behind him with a wet sound, which sends even more of Charlie's blood flowing south, as if it hadn't been already. He slides off the bed, landing on his knees, and Charlie can't help the reflexive wince as he contemplates the rug burn.

Charlie's pants and underwear get pulled down with one swift motion and Lincoln's leaning in when Charlie gets a metaphorical hold of himself and says, "Condom."

Lincoln sighs. "C'mon, seriously? You have about eighteen tests a week, the doctors say the bugs aren't--"

"*Condom,*" Charlie growls, and is grateful when Liv tosses him one from the drawer without comment. What the hell do the docs know, he's the one with bugs in his blood, and he can never know for sure if the little fuckers will mutate and take up residence in his balls. They say it's impossible but he's the one who wakes up with the night sweats after a nightmare that he's infected his partners. Anything he can do to keep that from happening is worth any aggravation.

Lincoln rolls the condom onto him without further argument and Charlie's out of objections. Lincoln takes him in like a porn star, swallowing smoothly. He's good at this, too good, and Charlie starts to feel his balls start to tighten when Lincoln pulls away with a wet pop of his mouth. "You're ready, let's go."

"You'd better do it, Charlie." Olivia manages to sound bored and he kind of loves her a lot for that. "Otherwise he'll whine all night."

"I don't--" Lincoln starts to protest, but Charlie and Liv cut him off simultaneously.


"Fine," Lincoln says, doing just that. But it's easy to forgive when he scrambles up on the bed and puts himself face down, ass up. Like a cat in heat, Charlie thinks--no, what's the male version? In rut.

He follows, grabbing at the tube of slick--Lincoln's clearly already been at it, but he wants to be sure--and lining himself up. He rubs the tip of his cock over Lincoln's entrance. "Ready?"

"jesusfuckingchristyes," Lincoln hisses, one long blasphemous swear word. Charlie takes him at the word and shoves in with one long push, no finesse at all.

Lincoln yells, scrabbling at the sheet, and then he braces his arms and pushes back, impaling himself further. Charlie's eyes cross a little and he feels like swearing too, but he grits his teeth instead. He glances over at Liv, who's stripped naked and fished something out of the drawer for herself. She's got one foot up on the bed and is running the slender device over her folds. As he watches, she flicks the button and a low buzz fills the air. She presses it in and breathes out, sharply. "Ahhh."

"You-- want some of this?" Charlie asks, trying to be civilized about it, and Liv grins.

"Save the last piece for me."

"Talking...about me...behind my back," Lincoln mutters, and Charlie thrusts hard again. Lincoln groans and Charlie doubles his effort, trying to wring more of those porn sounds out of him. Lincoln obliges, moans turning to a babbling litany. "*Fuck,* yes, fuck!"

"All right," Olivia says, low, and Charlie slaps Lincoln's flank, not gently.

"You're neglecting your other guest."

Lincoln's head rises slowly, as if he's coming out of a daze. "Can't...have that."

"Edge of the bed," Charlie says, and reluctantly withdraws. He's not as acrobatic as he used to be and moving them into position together would be a little beyond his capabilities. But Lincoln is more agile and as soon as Charlie sits on the edge, Lincoln positions himself facing away on Charlie's lap and slides down on his cock again, easy as anything.

With the same lack of hesitation--or caution--Olivia clambers over them, long legs folding around them both as she sinks down on Lincoln's erection. It's not Charlie's favorite position, he can't move and his thighs will begin to ache before long, but it doesn't take long either before Liv's weight and movement and Lincoln's ass squeezing at him get him close again. Liv reaches around to pinch at his earlobe, not as good as a bite but safer, and Charlie buries his face in Lincoln's shoulder and empties himself into his partner.

Lincoln's writhing against him and with a last push he comes too, arching into Liv with a shout. She laughs and looks inclined to keep going but Charlie glances at her and she slides off, sideways onto the bed. Lincoln pries himself off as well, panting and finally quiet.

Charlie flops backward, too drained to tell the kid to follow up, but Lincoln is on it and flips around, diving between Olivia's legs face first. He licks her clean and then wet again, keeping his hands on her thighs to push them apart. It's a wise precaution: the woman's got a grip like a vise if she gets her legs around your ears. Charlie reaches out to contribute, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Olivia gasps, thrusting against Lincoln's face, and comes with a sharp cry.

They curl up together in one sticky pile and it's Lincoln, as usual, who finds the energy to talk first. "Next time," he says in a dreamy, unfocused tone, "it's Liv. With the strap-on. Over the couch."