by Jules Jones
He saw George realise it, his expression going from casual to utterly focused. It took Patrick a little longer, judging by the “What ... oh” Martin heard from beside him.
He and George stared at each other for a few seconds without speaking. Then George said, “Patrick.”
Patrick leaned over and kissed him. Gently at first, testing how he responded, then harder. As he opened his mouth to Patrick’s exploring tongue, Patrick scrambled around to kneel over him, pressing him back against the cushions. It must have been awkward for Patrick, but so long as he didn’t mind, Martin didn’t either.
It was the first time Patrick had kissed him, and the first time he’d had much opportunity to explore Patrick’s body with his hands. Patrick was as muscular as George, his chest warm and solid under Martin’s hands. And a lovely firm bum, too, Patrick offering no objection as he explored it. It would have been nice to have bare skin under his hands, but he was content to leave things up to Patrick, let him decide how long they’d confine themselves to a little gentle stroking.
He’d closed his eyes. Now he opened them again as Patrick pulled away slightly, and he saw George standing a short distance away, watching them. Not just watching, but with his fly open and his hand on his cock. Watching greedily and stroking himself hard.
Patrick was fumbling with his own fly, and Martin reached to help. “Bloody clothes,” Patrick grumbled. “I knew there was a reason I prefer the naturist beaches.”
“Clothes can be fun sometimes.” He managed to get Patrick’s fly undone. “There.”
Patrick grinned at him. “I know. But sometimes they just get in the way. Where’d the condoms get to?”
“Here,” George said. He must have pulled the packet out of the picnic basket while Martin and Patrick had been struggling with Patrick’s trousers. He handed one to Martin over Patrick’s shoulder.
Martin ripped open the foil as Patrick got up on his knees, bringing his cock within easy reach. Martin’s need wasn’t quite so urgent this time, and he took a moment to admire it before rolling the condom on. Big and thick, the skin delicate softness over a hard core. He enjoyed the feel of it against his fingers as he smoothed down the condom. Then there was no more time to simply enjoy the sight of it, as Patrick shifted to shove it at his mouth.
He took it gladly, swallowing it down and holding Patrick’s hips steady. A small pause as they settled into place, and then Patrick pulled back and thrust forward again, fucking his mouth.
He might have expected things to be a little slower this time, but Patrick’s need seemed even more urgent than the first time. No attempt to hold back, no interest in the things Martin could do with his tongue. Just that big cock filling his mouth, sliding smoothly in and out. Another time he might have worried about whether he’d get any release of his own, but he had no such worries today. Not when George was waiting, watching.
Oh, yes, George was watching them. Was watching as Patrick pumped into his mouth, faster now, and still faster, obviously intent on coming as fast as possible; and Martin would have liked to put his hand on his own cock, but George hadn’t told him he could. He’d wait for his own release and trust George to do the same.
Then Patrick held still, and his cock throbbed in Martin’s mouth. Too late now to worry about anything but giving Patrick as good a time as possible, but Martin’s own cock was heavy and aching. He kept his hands where they were, resting on Patrick’s hips. And Patrick still had his jeans on, so desperate for a mouth on his cock that he hadn’t bothered to pull them off first.
Patrick shuddered and sank down, his cock slipping from Martin’s mouth. Martin caught him and held him, and over his shoulder could see George still watching them intently. He cradled Patrick in his arms for a few seconds, and then Patrick moved to sprawl back against the cushions, one hand reaching to hold Martin’s.
He still longed to take his own cock in his free hand, but instead reached to strip the condom off Patrick before it grew cold and clammy. George was already there with the rubbish bag. Once it was disposed of, George said, “Get your clothes off, Martin.”
He hurried to obey. But there didn’t seem to be any trace of using clothing and nudity as status symbols, because George was hastily stripping as well. Perhaps they didn’t see clothing the same way as he did, didn’t have any real notion of it as a way of reinforcing dominance positions. The only dominance there was in this cave was George’s simple assumption that Martin would do as he was told.
“On his back, I think,” George said to Patrick. “Get him a cushion.”
Patrick grabbed the velvet monster from the pile of cushions and dropped it between his legs, then leaned forward and patted it. Martin settled himself down on the cushion and let Patrick pull him back so that his head was pillowed in Patrick’s lap and his arse was up on the cushion. He’d get a crick in his back if he had to stay in that position for a long time, but he didn’t think that was going to be a problem; not with the way George was eyeing him as if he was the dessert to that nice lunch they’d had.
George had already put a condom on, so Martin stopped worrying about anything but when he was going to feel George’s cock inside him.
“Don’t touch yourself yet,” Patrick said, stroking his face. “You won’t be so tight now, not after the way I fucked you before lunch, so George is going to want you to come when he does. Nice and tight for him then.”
Martin reached up with one hand, and Patrick grabbed it and squeezed it tightly. “And the other one, if you don’t trust yourself,” Patrick said.
He did so.
“Can you lift your legs?” Patrick asked. “If it’s not comfortable, I’ll hold them.”
“I can manage as long as it’s not for long without support.”
And then George settled between his legs and set the head of his cock against him. Not quite pushing in, not yet, but pressing firmly against him, making him long to feel more of it.
“Hold still,” Patrick whispered.
Somehow he held still, instead of pushing against George. No relief just yet; George touched his cock very lightly, running one finger from tip to base.
“Please.” He needed more than just that delicate touch.
“Do you want me?”
“God, yes, please ...”
“I’m no wet dream, am I?”
He looked at George, solid and real even in the flickering light reflected from moving water. “No.” His own fantasy, come to life and made real. “No, not anymore. What I want, but not a dream.”
What he wanted. Both of them with him, together, though he’d never been inclined to group sex. This wasn’t group sex; this was a relationship that happened to have three people in it. Patrick supported him as George pushed into him. He’d enjoyed them fucking him at the same time this morning, but this was good as well, George pushing slowly into him, filling him up, never letting slip of that tight self-control. Making him wait for it. Watching him still, utterly focused on him. Patrick holding his hands, squeezing back in response each time he clenched his hands with the effort of retaining his own self-control.
It took forever before George was right in, and even then they made him wait. Made him appreciate how it felt to be stretched by George’s thick cock, feel it all the way inside him. He was burning for release, and still the only touch on his own cock had been that light, tantalising stroke George had given him just once.
Sensation all over him. Most of his attention was taken up with George’s cock in him and Patrick’s hands holding his, but there were other things as well. The denim of Patrick’s jeans against his shoulders, the pleasant roughness of the woollen blanket against his back, and under his arse the plush texture of that velvet cushion they had improbably produced. The dappled light playing around the cave. The quiet sound of the waves rippling against their little beach. The quietness that let him hear that rippling.
Just the three of them, here in this sanctuary from the outside world.
“You won’t f
orget us, will you?”
It might have been a command, but it sounded more like a plea. “No,” he whispered and watched George smile. And only then did George pull back and thrust in again.
Sensation cascaded through him, and now all he knew was George in him, Patrick holding him. And George’s beautiful face filling his field of view.
In, and out, and in again. Then George shifted position, leaning down to kiss him. Still filling him with cock, now also filling his mouth with tongue, and giving him blessed pressure on his cock at last. Patrick let go of his hands, and he wrapped his arms around George, holding him as close as he could. Still not breaking that contact with Patrick, because now Patrick’s hands were rhythmically squeezing his shoulders, not quite in time with George thrusting into him.
George broke free long enough to gasp, “Almost there!”
He’d have no problems with doing as he was told and coming at the same time as George. He had all he needed now, wonderful rhythmic stroking inside him, hard pressure against his cock. Another one or two strokes would do it; any longer and his problem would be waiting for George to catch up with him.
One more stroke in and out. Then George pulled back, and paused, and rammed back into him hard and fast. It was more than enough, both the feel of it and knowing that this was when he was supposed to come. He let go of his self-control, let that about-to-come sensation take him over.
Two men holding him. One of those men in him. All three of them seeking mutual pleasure, not just fun for one. He had thought it a dream, had woken to an empty bed these last two months knowing it to be a dream, but now it was real. He gladly let sensation drown him, feeling nothing but bare skin and cloth against his own skin, and then the stickiness of his own come on his belly.
It was very good indeed. George needn’t have worried about being forgotten when Martin left here. He held George tightly for a few seconds, and then they gradually relaxed.
After a minute or two, George pried himself up onto his hands and knees with obvious reluctance. “Time to get more comfortable.”
“Could do with getting out of these jeans,” Patrick said.
George grinned. “Daft bugger. You wanted him badly, didn’t you?” He shifted to one side, giving Martin room to move.
“Did I ever. Up you get, Martin.”
Patrick grabbed him under his shoulders and helped him sit up. He scrambled out of Patrick’s lap and lay down next to George. A nap seemed like a very good idea right now, and George obviously agreed. Martin snuggled up to him, put an arm around him, and closed his eyes.
The only flaw in the plan was that he was going to feel cold as soon as he cooled down, but Patrick solved that. There’d been a second blanket in the pile of cushions, and now Martin felt it settle across him. Patrick must have shaken it out over them. Another minute or two, and Patrick joined them under the blanket, naked now.
It was even better than this morning. A man either side to hold him, and a warm and comfortable bed on the sand to lie in, with pillows and blankets besides.
He was just drifting off to sleep when Patrick said, “My turn for a cuddle?”
“If you must,” George said and gently pushed Martin, nudging him to turn the other way. He woke up enough to turn over and put his arm around Patrick instead. That seemed equally pleasant, and he was quite content to stay there as he fell asleep.
Chapter Seven
They must have dozed for some time, for the lighting in the cave had changed when Martin woke up. Mid-afternoon, probably, though he didn’t feel any great urge to find his watch and check. As long as it wasn’t so late that Simon would be home and worrying about him, there was nowhere he needed to be.
He stretched and turned over, heard a sleepy “Mmm,” from George. A minute or two later, George slid an arm under him and tugged. “Come here.”
“I probably can’t get it up again,” he warned. He’d already seen evidence that one dolphin ability transferred to their human form, and they’d hinted that sexual capacity was another. If George was looking for more sex, he was likely to be disappointed.
George grinned at him. “It’s all right. We’ll make allowances for your unfortunate choice of species.”
It was rather difficult to start a serious conversation about mutual expectations when George was making remarks like that, so Martin didn’t bother. He moved to lie on top of George, reassured that it would not be taken as a declaration of immediate interest in sex.
George put his arms around Martin and started stroking his back. Then George started the conversation about expectations. “We never did get around to discussing in detail what everyone likes and doesn’t like with sex.”
“Probably because we were too busy having sex.” He was enjoying this. He could feel that George was getting hard again, but he didn’t feel any pressure to perform. The simple physical contact was all he really wanted at the moment, and apparently it was enough to keep George happy.
“Well, we didn’t go very far this morning, but you seemed happy with that.” George slid one hand down his back, down between his buttocks, and spread them apart a little. Taking possession without making a big thing out of it. “What do you like?”
“Mostly I just like someone else to be in charge. To tell me what to do.” He kissed George briefly. “Which you did very well. That was exactly what I like. Knowing that you were making the decisions.” He paused and thought. He might have to spell things out in detail; he couldn’t take it for granted that George and Patrick knew the same slang that he did. “I’m a submissive, not a masochist. I enjoy it rough, sometimes, but it’s not what I need. And actual pain I can take or leave. I’m happy to do it for someone else as long as they’re people I can trust to be safe, sane, consensual; but it’s very rare that I’d want to do it.”
George thought that over for a moment. Then he said, “That’s a fairly good description of what we want, from the other side. You waited for permission; you didn’t make us force you. Rough can be fun, but not if you have to do it all the time.”
He had an uneasy feeling that George wasn’t just talking about consensual roughness. But George lived in two worlds, one based around the cruising ground of the beach, with its mostly safe, sane and consensual social framework, and another one that might have very different rules. “Other dolphins?”
“Mmm. We’re small by dolphin standards, because we don’t change size much between shapes. There are occasional misunderstandings about what we’re offering. You know the sort of thing; get everything settled and then there’s a change of plan at the last moment. A change that was always intended.” George gave him a positively evil grin. “Sometimes someone has to be reminded that size isn’t everything. Especially when there’s one of him and two of us.”
He could well believe that these two would be a match for a bigger dolphin. They were a very effective team, as he’d seen for himself both during the storm and when they’d been helping him hunt fossils. It was slightly disconcerting to hear George talking so bluntly about using their effectiveness against other dolphins.
“We wouldn’t just jump on someone who really didn’t want it,” George said. “Sometimes it’s someone who wants it rougher than we think is safe. Sometimes it’s just a prick who thinks he’s going to teach us a lesson, and gets one instead. But that’s no fun for us.” He reached up with his free hand and stroked Martin’s face. “Someone like you is what we’re looking for.”
“By the way,” Patrick said, “mind if I have some more?”
He and George looked at each other, then looked at Patrick. “We were trying to have a serious conversation,” George said.
“That’s what woke me up.” Patrick groped Martin’s bum. “All that talk about sex made me fancy some more.”
Two hands on his bum felt very nice, but didn’t make him feel all that interested. Not after the day he’d already had. There was no point in being coy with this pair, not with the risk of misreading signals. “I probably can�
�t get it up again today, but I don’t mind doing you if you can.” If Patrick hadn’t asked first, or asked in a way that obviously wasn’t accepting a refusal, he would have minded. This was too early to be taking such things for granted, and he was glad to see that Patrick didn’t.
Patrick scrambled up to his knees and kissed the back of Martin’s neck. “Thanks. Stay where you are if you don’t mind me just having a wank in you. You and George keep talking.”
Since Patrick recognised it as that and would take no for an answer, Martin didn’t mind at all. “Condom,” he reminded him. “What about you?” he asked George.
George shook his head. “I’m all right. So is Patrick, if he’s honest about it, but he does like having his cock in someone’s arse when he gets the chance.”
“Not that you give me much chance,” Patrick muttered. “Where are they? Ah!”
Satisfied that Patrick was taking the condoms seriously, Martin turned his attention back to George. “So what do you like?”
“Being in charge.”
“I’d noticed.”
George chewed thoughtfully on his lip, focusing on a mental list. “I don’t really like taking it in the arse. Not a dominance thing; it just isn’t very comfortable for me.”
He understood the distinction that George was making. “It isn’t for some guys. Either way around. They’d much rather have a blowjob or someone’s hand.” He trailed his finger across George’s mouth. It was a very pretty mouth, with full lips and a nicely balanced shape. “What about taking it in your mouth?”
George very delicately licked his finger. “I quite like it, when it’s to make my sub wild with desire and then not allow him release.”
“Oh, good.”
George gave him another lick and said, “I take it we’re still matching well, then?”
“I think I love you, George.”
The blanket was pulled off him. “What about me?” Patrick asked as he settled down on top of Martin.