Work Text:
“Dr Benitez? It’s Mr. Lawrence”
Vincent looked up from his computer, although he couldn’t quite read what it said on the screen. He recognised the man standing in the doorway as his husband, but he also knew that he was his secretary.
“Yes, Mr. Lawrence?”
Thomas, or I suppose Mr. Lawrence, stepped into the room. I wonder why we’re not on first name basis. And why he can speak Spanish this well. They sometimes spoke Spanish at home, but Thomas wasn’t fully confident yet - he couldn’t speak this fast.
“Your husband is here to visit you, Dr. Benitez.”
Well, you’re my husband. Vincent thought to himself. You’re my Thomas. It was odd, but he shrugged and looked toward the door.
“Well, send him in, please, Mr. Lawrence.”
Another Thomas walked in, dressed similarly to the first. Both in their work clothes. In reality, Vincent might be perturbed by this, but now he was quite sure he was dreaming.
Work clothes. That was another thing — Vincent wasn’t in his white coat. Rather, he wore a simple white shirt and pleated trousers with his usual brogues.
Thomas walked across the room and leaned down to kiss him, the same way he always had done, hand holding the bottom of Vincent’s jaw and the top of his neck. Thomas, the Thomas that was his husband, that is, looked as he always did — smart, certainly, but exhausted. Even in my dreams I am worrying for his health, Vincent thought to himself.
“I needed to see you, Vincent,” Thomas said, also in Spanish, as he pulled away from the kiss, stepping backward and kneeling in front of his desk chair. “You’ve been working so much lately and I missed you terribly.”
Have I been that busy? Vincent wondered. There had been a few long nights in the operating room that month, and Vincent had often arrived home long after Thomas had fallen asleep. Demanding as Thomas’ work might be at times, his hours were never as long as Vincent’s, and Vincent lamented the amount of dinners he knew his husband had had to eat alone.
He reached a hand out and ran it through Thomas’ thinning hair. I don’t mean to neglect him. He knows that.
“I am sorry, my Thomas. You know I don’t mean to work late, nor to leave you alone.” Vincent smiled a little as Thomas leaned into his touch, and began stroking his hair repeatedly.
“Of course. That’s why I’m here to visit you,” Thomas said quietly. “We can’t always meet at home, and I miss everything about you, Vincent.”
His husband had wrapped both hands around Vincent’s left calf, gently sliding off his brogue, leaning slightly to place the shoe neatly under his desk. Vincent watched his husband in fascination, hands still running through his hair. Careful not to do so too quickly and risk pulling a muscle, Thomas lifted Vincent’s sock-clad foot from the ground to a slight angle and buried his nose in the wool. He was breathing heavily, frantically, holding it flush across his face. It was odd, but Vincent continued to stroke his hair.
“Oh, my Thomas, did you miss that much?”
He felt Thomas nod against his foot, both hands cradling it to his face. He took one last breath, and Thomas looked up at him, almost to ask for permission, although Vincent could not quite understand for what. Nevertheless, he nodded, and watched Thomas take a thumb and forefinger around his sock and carefully pull it off, neatly placing it in his brogue. Then, Thomas took Vincent’ foot, now bare, in his hand once more, and wrapped his lips around his largest toe.
He knew how Thomas’ mouth felt well, its warmth and its depth, but he’d never felt it around his toes before. Generally, he liked everything about Thomas’ body, and while his mouth on his feet was not unwelcome, it was somewhat perplexing. His feet weren’t particularly sensitive, to his knowledge, so the sensation, although pleasing, wasn’t particularly arousing. What did interest Vincent, however, were the low, guttural moans his husband had begun making around his foot. Vincent loved the sound of his husband’s voice, especially when he was aroused, when Thomas’ stress seemed to melt away. Thomas was generally neurotic and overly susceptible to over worrying. Anything that soothed him or at least allowed him to be distracted was attractive to Vincent. The opportunity to witness this distraction present in low, long moans was, as Vincent had realised early on in their relationship, particularly attractive.
Vincent gasped as the man placed the flat of his palm against his groin, wrist resting on the edge of the chair. The pressure, steadying, confirmed what Vincent already knew — that he was semi-hard already. With his other foot, Vincent dragged the chair back and forth, thrusting into Thomas’ hand.
The other Thomas, in this dream, Mr. Lawrence, hadn’t left the room yet. Where he might go, Vincent did not know. Rather he stood pressed against the office wall, eyes fixed on Vincent, face flushed, palm down the front of his slacks. Now Vincent was looking at him, he could make out the sound of soft whines against the sound of his own moaning and the small, wet noises coming from below his belt. Not wanting the man who was essentially his other husband to feel left out, Vincent flashed a smile at him from across the room. In response, his secretary let out a short, breathy moan, and Vincent’s body jerked involuntarily hard into Thomas’ palm.
To his knowledge, Vincent had never been watched with another person before. Certainly, when Thomas was sick he’d pleasured himself in front of the man. He’d felt his own arousal grow as Thomas’ eyes widened at the sight of Vincent opening himself up, at fucking himself with the toy he’d purchased when Thomas had confided in him that despite being on bedrest, he still wished to be intimate. But Vincent had never considered inviting someone else to watch he and Thomas make love. There was no-one he had felt as strongly about as he had Thomas, and he knew the feeling was mutual. He liked to make Thomas feel good, and there was a selfish side to him that liked for only him to make Thomas feel good. I suppose it is to be expected that if I were to want to be watched, it would be by him, Vincent thought. Of course, now there were two Thomases. This gave Vincent an idea.
Vincent gently pulled his foot from Thomas’ mouth and stood up shakily, steadying himself against his dear husband’s shoulders. His toes shone with spit, now flushed with the contact against Thomas’ mouth. After pulling away Vincent might’ve lamented the lack of feeling for a split second, but almost immediately, Thomas had shifted from fully sitting, bottom against his heels, to kneeling up, feet bent to properly balance his body and align his face with Vincent's crotch. Now pressing his nose against Vincent’s clothed erection, hands flush against his bottom, Thomas was frantically inhaling from the wet patch that had appeared across Vincent’s groin. Vincent couldn’t help but lay both hands across the back of his husband’s head and push, his pleasure mounting as the pressure between his penis and Thomas’ face compounded. He felt lightheaded, elated at the tension spreading against his crotch, at the sound of heavy breathing from three mouths mingling in the air. Pressing his jaw against Vincent’s pelvis, Thomas opened his mouth and began sucking at the wet fabric of his suit trousers.
The sensation was almost too much to bear. Although masked by his trousers, Vincent’s cock could feel Thomas’ nose, his mouth, his tongue, his teeth encompass it. The feeling was muted, made light against the thick fabric of his trousers, but nevertheless, it was there, and Vincent revelled in the feeling. If he weren’t dreaming, Vincent was quite sure he would’ve finished already, come dripping down the side of his leg and onto the office floor. But he was dreaming, and he decidedly wanted to continue as far as his imagination might let him. He took a deep breath, and lifted his hands from Thomas’ head to his waistband.
“Now, my Thomas, let me make it easier for you.”
Vincent’s penis bounced free as he unbuttoned his trousers, now totally hard. His bottoms, saturated with a mixture of Vincent’s pre-come and Thomas’ saliva, dropped to the floor, and Vincent lifted each leg to allow his husband to take these, and his remaining sock and brogue off. For a moment he stood half-naked in his office, white shirt falling around his erection, as Thomas placed the shoe and sock neatly next to its partner under his desk. A tent had formed in Thomas’ trousers, too, and Vincent smiled at the sight.
“Missed you so much,” Thomas whined as he returned to where he knelt previously. Again his hands wrapped around Vincent’s arse, now hot against bare skin. Once more he was rubbing his nose and mouth against Vincent’s hard-on, breathing in the scent of sweat and pre-come desperately. Have I been busy enough today to sweat? Vincent wondered. He looked up at the clock, but found he could not read it. Whatever time it was, he was thoroughly distracted by his husband’s own desperation, and the warmth of his face against his pelvis.
No longer muted by the fabric, Vincent’s twitches and moans matched his husband’s own wildness, although he took great care not to thrust into Thomas’ mouth until he had made his own decision. Instead he considered the feeling of their bare skin together. The sensation of his hardness against Thomas’ stubble was odd, but not entirely uncomfortable. On the contrary, Vincent could feel his desire mounting further and further as the prickles continued across it. He wondered how the hair on Thomas’ groin might feel if they rubbed themselves together.
Speech slurred by Vincent’s penis against his cheek, Thomas continued speaking “Missed how you smell, how you sound, how you taste…”
Vincent gasped as Thomas’ lips circled around the head of his penis and his tongue washed over the front.
“You did, didn’t you, my Thomas,” He spluttered. “and I missed you, too…”
Vincent had intended to say more, but Thomas had begun sucking gently at his penis, oddly gently considering his franticness at the beginning. Vincent melted into the sensation. He shifted his weight further onto his hands for fear his legs might buckle, hands pressing further into Thomas’ head.
“Sorry, Doctor, I—“ The other Thomas, Mr. Lawrence, Vincent reminded himself had stumbled forward and gathered up Vincent’s slacks frantically in one hand. He clutched the fabric, now rumpled and pressed the seat into his nose. The secretary frowned, inhaling hard, his other hand jerking further under his waistline, and Vincent could not help but beam at the pronounced moaning noises he made from across the room.
“My Thomas — my secretary, Mr. Lawrence— ah! You must miss me too, my love.”
Secretary-Thomas looked up, eyes wide, one hand drawing away Vincent’s slacks from his mouth so he could speak. Even as Vincent spoke to him, one hand remained inside his trousers.
“It’s difficult not to, Doctor Benítez, when you’re in the operating room so much,” The moment he finished he inhaled sharply from the slacks. “Can’t bear - ah - can’t bear it without your smell. And I—“ and Vincent noticed a puddle forming in his secretary’s groin “— I want to taste you too, Doctor.”
For a moment Vincent imagined how this secretary might react if he proposed he crouch beneath his desk and taste him that way during meetings. The man was embarrassed by his own desperation as is, and Vincent had enjoyed watching him flush as he pleasured himself with his discarded clothes. It was a pleasant thought, but Vincent decided not to tease him forward, and instead wave him over.
“Come here then, my love, my Thomas -- Mr. Lawrence, I mean.”
The slacks, now soaked with one more man’s spit, were carefully folded and placed next to the computer on Vincent’s desk. Cautiously, his secretary walked toward him, then behind him, then flush against him. Vincent could feel Thomas’ erection pressing against the small of his back as the man busied himself with Vincent’s shirt buttons. Carefully, he lifted his hands from his husband’s head, still below his waist, and allowed his secretary to take his shirt off. At the sudden loss of contact, he heard a sharp whine from below.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you, my dear husband, my dear Thomas,” and Vincent’s hands returned to the back of Thomas head. “I can hold you.”
Vincent ran his hands through Thomas’ hair, rubbing circles into the back of his skull. His husband ran his tongue across the underside of Vincent’s arousal, drawing his lips back slightly. Vincent responded by beginning to thrust back-and-forth — slowly, gently — into his mouth.
Across the office Vincent’s shirt was folded carefully by his secretary and placed on top of his trousers, next to his desktop computer. He still needs order, even like this, Vincent thought, and let out a small chuckle. Now free from the responsibility of his beloved doctor’s shirt, Thomas could return to behind him. Vincent sighed at the return of his secretary’s erection pushed against his back, poking his hips out, inviting his secretary to began grinding against him. Thomas complied, almost immediately, reaching his hands toward Vincent’s chest as he did so. Vincent wheezed as he felt his secretary’s fingers circle his nipples and begin rubbing them gently between his thumb and forefinger. They hardened under the touch.
It was certainly overwhelming, the feeling of Thomas’ lips wrapped around him, of Thomas’ erection pressed against him and the feeling of Thomas’ hands ghosting over his nipples, Vincent thought, and he was quite sure that was what he enjoyed most from it.
He leaned his head on Thomas’ left shoulder, sighing as the man lifted his mouth from Vincent’s own shoulder and crushed their lips together. Between his moans, Vincent turned his mouth toward his secretary’s ear. He clutched the outline of his erection, covered in soaking cloth, and squeezed it. He hooked a thumb around the waistband and tried to gesture for him to pull his bottoms down. However clumsy the gesture was, he was successful - it was his dream, after all. The sharp metal noise of a belt unbuckling felt alien among the mens’ moans as Thomas’ hands obediently dropped from his chest and undressed. Nevertheless, Vincent whined first at the loss of sensation on his nipples, then whined again as the sensation returned. The feeling was electric, overwhelming, but somehow, Vincent wanted more. Clumsily, he clutched one hand at his secretary’s erection once more, now bare and hot in his hand.
“You — you — ahh — you can put that inside me, my Thomas - Mr Lawrence — ah!”
Below his stomach Vincent could see at some point his husband had removed one hand from his buttocks to unbutton himself. Thomas was fully hard, trousers bunched around his thighs, one hand running up and down his penis. For a moment, Vincent remembered his reaction when he had first seen Thomas naked. At that point he could still maintain an erection. He’d put his tongue in Vincent first, hands running across his stomach, until Vincent felt loose enough to take Thomas’ length. It had felt like a happy eternity. He realised at that moment how much he missed the feeling of Thomas inside of him. That same desperation that his husband and secretary had felt at the sight of him had risen in his belly.
“Please, quickly, Mr. Lawrence—!”
“Yes, Doctor Benitez, of course…”
Vincent felt his secretary’s bare erection spread pre-come across the small of his back. The hands left his nipples and Vincent felt them spread under his thighs. Leaning backward, he allowed strong arms to manoeuvre him directly above his secretary’s length and relax his body over it. Vincent quivered in anticipation as he felt its head ghost over his entrance.
Quickly, frantically, but not yet painfully, his secretary entered Vincent. His moan eclipsed his husband and secretary’s, whose noises were muffled as they sucked on his manhood and earlobe respectively. In that instant Vincent jerked involuntarily forward, manhood thrusting almost entirely inside his husband’s mouth. For a second he feared Thomas had been hurt, but his husband grabbed his buttocks tighter and moved forward, Vincent’s penis slamming against the back of his throat. He sucked harder than ever somehow. The pleasure seemed infinite, pooling across his groin to behind to his thighs.
The other Thomas — the one that is my Husband, Vincent reminded himself, ran his hands faster over his own erection. However muffled his moans where, Vincent could feel his lips vibrate around his arousal, could relish each vibration and each murmur. Vincent gasped at the sensation of their bodies moving back and forth, relishing the pressure from both his front and behind. Looking down, he saw his partners’ arms were crossed against each other as they supported his body, and he felt himself moving in rhythm with the two. His body throbbed with pleasure, face hurting from smiling, throat hoarse from crying out. But I’m still not finished yet. Vincent thought. How wonderful it is to dream.
Unsure of what to do with his hands, Vincent begun to rub his own nipples, quickly, clumsily, still overwhelmed by the excess of sensation inside his body. He realised he was still missing the way Thomas’ fingers had felt over them. His secretary’s touches were tender and soft, but had a kind of impact realised he was now missing on his chest. Still hard and sensitive, Vincent’s nipples tingled at the feeling of his thumb and forefinger twisting them. He tried to mimic how Thomas’ — well, his secretary’s — hands had felt. Slow. Careful. Confident.
At the sight of this, he heard a loud gasp from the floor, and a muffled cry to keep going from his husband. He looked down to see Thomas’ eyes fixed on his hands on his chest, his own hands clutching Vincent tighter as he released sticky white liquid across the carpet.
He was floating. His pleasure had reached a climax. It spread from his torso throughout his body, waves washing over his muscles and into his bones. Warmth seared into his skin. It shot from Thomas’ fingertips to Vincent’s. All he could think of was Thomas, the sound of his voice against his ear, the smell of the sweat on his skin, the feeling of his hands supporting Vincent from beneath him. At that point Vincent was quite sure the three had become one, that Thomas felt what he felt, and that he felt what Thomas felt.
He gasped. An abundance of warm liquid had spilled inside of him. He could feel he was close, too. His insides were melting, pooling, welling up inside of him, almost ready to spill out. The pressure he’d felt early, first in his crotch, then on his chest, then spreading throughout his body, had compounded once more in his member. It swelled inside him, growing larger and larger with each movement from his front and back. Now I know that even in my dreams, I have my limits.
Now gently let down, he felt himself finish into his husband’s mouth, and gently laid down, two men laying their heads on his chest, waiting for Vincent to tangle his hands in their hair once again.
Vincent woke up that morning hard, pressed against Thomas’ back under the duvet. He shifted forward, reaching for his husband’s shoulders and pulling him closer so his lips were against his ear.
“Good morning,” he whispered, and Thomas turned round and smiled at him. He paused, deciding on how to continue. “I had a dream about us last night.”
“I can feel it,” Thomas said, and pushed backward into Vincent’s erection, earning a sharp cry from his partner. “Do you remember what it was about?”
Vincent pushed himself against Thomas, trying to capture that same rhythm from his dream. Certain he’d captured that same back-and-forth, and reached a hand over Thomas’ crotch, he continued.
“You were my husband, but you also were my secretary. You both spoke Spanish. We all did. But you had your accent still. Even in my dream.”
Thomas wasn’t hard, but Vincent still liked the feeling of him thrusting into his hand. He started grinding faster against his back, wanting Thomas to feel how pent up he was, all thanks to his dream about them.
“You came to visit me at work. So, you announced who was there. First, you as my husband had some fun with me, and you as my secretary watched us for a bit. I did not think I would like to be watched when we make love, but I liked how it felt when you watched me. Well, when you watched you and me.”
Vincent pulled himself away, and tugged at Thomas’ sleeve to flip him round, so they were facing one another.
“I do not want anyone other than you, Thomas. That was what was great. It was only you, but there were two, so we had lots of fun.” Thomas nodded, and sat up, reaching for Vincent’s pyjama bottoms, and sliding them down. Vincent lay flat, staring at Thomas beyond his hard-on.
Thomas lifted Vincent’s legs over his shoulders and nodded at him to continue. He was blushing the same way he had in the dream.
“I invited you to join me, so both of you were there with me. One of you took me in your mouth and the other was inside me. But before that, you touched my nipples for a while, and I touched your cock through your pants. I liked that. In my dream, you did too.”
Thomas moaned slightly, and Vincent felt his cock twitch.
“You — well, you both — were very sweet in the dream, Thomas. Always kissing me,” Vincent sighed as Thomas poked his tongue inside him. “You are always very sweet. Do you remember — ahh — do you remember when we first did it and you pulled a muscle trying to kiss me in missionary?”
Thomas hummed yes. Vincent liked the feeling of it against his entrance.
“You make me feel good, Thomas. I hope it’s the same for me.”
“I’m hard, Vincent, well, sort of.” Thomas drew back and pulled his pyjama bottoms down to reveal his semi-hard manhood. Vincent’s penis throbbed as he watched Thomas, half dressed, walk across the room and search through his bathroom cabinet to find their lube and a spare towel.
“Oh, let me do it, Thomas,” Vincent took the oil from him and squeezed it into his hands. Thomas shuffled forward and Vincent sat up, wrapping his hands around his semi. He leaned in to kiss Thomas’ cheek and hover his lips over his ear.
“All you had to do was watch me, in my dream, and your pants were soaked, Thomas,” he whispered. “That was before I touched you.”
Vincent could feel Thomas’ arousal grow in his hands. He ran his hand up and down his length in response, his own cock twitching at the moans he was making. Still whispering, he continued.
“When you were inside me, and I was inside you, it felt like heaven. But I liked the noises the best. Like you’re doing now.”
Pre-come spurted onto Vincent’s hand and he continued rubbing up and down. Both their faces were flushed and their breathing had become hot and heavy. Vincent could see their pre-come dripping onto the towel in the morning light.
“Will you come inside me now, Thomas?”
Thomas spluttered out a yes and leaned over Vincent, relishing the man’s gasps as he entered him. He could feel Vincent clenching around his penis — still semi hard — and reached one hand to fondle his nipples, rubbing circles around each bud gently. “Oh, Thomas,” Vincent had sighed, and pushed his head upwards to kiss him despite where Thomas’ mouth had been.
Vincent took in Thomas’ face with great pleasure. It was flushed, brow knitted, twitching slightly at every noise Vincent made. “You’re so gentle, Thomas, like you were in the dream…” Thomas spluttered something he couldn’t quite make out, quickening his pace. Both cried out in pleasure once Thomas climaxed — Thomas as he released inside Vincent and Vincent as he heard his husband’s moan.
“Keep touching here, Thomas”, Vincent instructed, guiding Thomas to lie flat and reaching his hands to his nipples. Vincent flopped over him, relishing the feeling of their naked bodies together, and began rubbing himself on Thomas own member, however soft it was. Vincent liked the feeling of pressing his body to Thomas’, liked being as close as physically possible with his husband. Lying over Thomas, pushing their bodies together, relishing in the feeling of his fingers on his chest, Vincent tried to recreate that same sensation of pressure he’d felt in his dream for both him and Thomas. It was that same overwhelming feeling of pleasure, beginning on his chest and mounting in his erection. Thomas could feel it too, extending from his fingertips, exuding from his mouth in short moans and heavy breaths.
Vincent shouted Thomas’ name as he finished. When he caught his eye afterward, his husband looked quite embarrassed. Vincent knew under the blush was a sincere smile.
They drunk coffee in bed that morning, Vincent pressing himself against Thomas’ arm. He thought about his dream once again. About why Thomas — the one that was his husband — had come into his office. He realised he had had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t seeing enough of his husband. It had taken a wet dream for the worry to surface and Vincent was quite sure he had to do something about that.
“I’m working until the evening today, Thomas, but I want to eat dinner with you. Can you wait for me, please?”
Thomas looked at him over his porcelain mug.
“Alright, then. Would you like me to cook?”
Vincent twisted their legs together and looked at him.
“If you do not mind.”
“You know I don’t.”
Vincent’s heart swelled. He leaned over to kiss Thomas’ smile, running a hand through his hair as he did so.