by Solace Ames
Jay smiled up at her and licked his lips in slow time, drawing it out for them, willing and giving and achingly beautiful. Scarlet bra straps crossed over his collarbones, drawing bold angles that didn’t quite match. She wanted to lean down and correct them, to restore his flawless angular symmetry, but her hand was—
She stopped the thought cold. Focused instead on the warmth of Jay’s thighs sliding against the inside of her thighs. We touched that first time and then you never let me go, you never held me down but you never let me go, you only loved me, she thought, a surge of gratefulness rising inside her, almost high enough to make her cry.
Paul’s hands steadied her, kept her upright and strong. Then he found the side snaps Jay had sewn into her panties—clever and oh so practical—snapped the panties off and slid them out from under the garter belt. Her naked pussy was throbbing and wet, and had been since she and Jay had first started painting and petting, devoutly preparing their bodies for offering.
A long time to wait, burning.
“Mmm, yes,” Jay said, digging his shoulders back into the mattress, and his hands were massaging up the inside of her thighs, and oh fuck she wanted his fingers inside her—
—Paul held his wrists and pushed them back down. “Not yet. Be patient.”
Damn. She tensed, tightened, released. And gave Paul space to work by spreading out her arms.
“Nice one,” Jay said, eyes widening admiringly. “Umm, I mean the strap-on.”
Paul fastened the harness around her hips and cheeks and thighs, and cinched it perfectly. He’d had a lot of practice with straps, of course—he’d taught himself, he wasn’t pure magic, even if it was hard to remember sometimes, like right now with his hands everywhere on her. What she felt for him was wound up in power but couldn’t be encompassed by master or teacher or any single word. And it was still so easy and simple and right.
Her cock was shiny jet-black silicone, unridged, no pretense of realism.
She wrapped her right fist around it.
Mine.
“Legs up, darling,” Paul said to Jay.
Jay shifted in immediate response, drawing up his legs and spreading them according to a loose and languid geometry. He kept his eyes fixed on what she held in her fist, and the way he looked at her was intensely, deliriously sweet, maybe because—yes, it was just like the way he looked when he got down on his knees to worship by her side, united, giving pleasure to their man and gratefully swallowing what they received in return.
Paul eased a pillow under Jay’s lower spine, raising him slightly. Easier for him, and easier for her to take him face to face. She didn’t know how to use all the power the position gave her, but God, she wanted to learn.
No more fear. None at all.
The harness ring kept the slick base suspended right between her legs. She squeezed her fist and ground her hips forward against the shaft, testing the fit. Tensing, drawing energy in, maybe a little like fucking with a real cock, but she forgot about the fine gradations of reality when her wet clit pressed into rigid smoothness and a thousand spotlights turned on, like the sky over Hollywood. “I want to come,” she moaned.
“Turn it on,” Jay urged, and she remembered, and clicked the depression halfway down the shaft. With her middle finger, not the missing one. She remembered, and the smile on her face as the vibration kicked in was as much for that remembering as it was for the sheer physical joy blazing through her nerves. Stars rained in the deep blackness behind her tight-shut eyes, in her secret world.
“Oh—oh—” High, higher, higher...and still not high enough, not yet. She stopped trying, relaxed her focus, and let herself soak up the sensations of the thrumming shaft between her legs. Hovering at a new equilibrium, she opened her eyes—
Paul was doing for her what she’d done for Paul: preparing Jay. God. A finger inside him already. One side of the panties was unsnapped, and the other side conspired with the garter belt to teasingly cover most of what Jay had tucked between his legs. Hints of dark-flushed skin peeked through bright satin strips.
Paul pushed.
“Yes, yes, oh God, more,” Jay begged.
“Are you wet enough, baby?” Paul asked, and turned to her, a hint of benign sadism in his smile—he didn’t mind taking his time, oh no. “What do you think, Adriana?”
“Put on some more,” she said without thinking, because she wanted to see. And it was beautiful—the shimmering viscous liquid dripping from Paul’s fist onto Jay’s seam, the fingers of Paul’s other hand gently massaging into Jay’s ass, opening him in tender circling motions.
She spread her knees wide and lowered onto him. Paul guided the tip of her cock where it needed to be, right against taut, varicolored flesh, gleaming and slick with lube. Jay had made his body pure and clean and sweet for them—she loved him so much, loved all the ways he took pleasure and all the ways he gave it.
She wasn’t as good at talking as he was, but then again—
“I love you, baby,” she whispered, and sank into him, slowly, but not stopping, not when he let out a high cry, not stopping until she was seated all the way inside him and rocking down onto him.
The vibrations pulsed right against her sensitive lips, jolted her clit—if they were stronger, she could come. Come inside him. Fill him up, like Paul could. Fuck.
“Yes,” Paul said, his hand on her hip, steering her.
She rotated her hips, wishing she could know how it felt deep inside Jay. By the look on his face—teeth bared and brilliant white except for a sticky smudge of purple lipstick, eyelids fluttering—an intensity nearing pain was what she’d created. “You okay, baby?” she asked, caressing the long, tensed muscles on the inside of his right thigh.
“It’s—it’s good. It hurts a little. Here.” He touched himself underneath his panties, gleaming nails sliding under the line of lace. Kneading. Exploring. She watched, fascinated. “My—they’re pressing up against something on the inside. It’s strange but—no. Don’t stop.”
She pulled out halfway, observing how evenly he yielded around the girth of her cock. He breathed deeply. She pushed in again. The vibration wasn’t powerful enough to see, but she could hear the low, throaty hum.
Jay cried out again. “Yes. There. God.”
Paul moved to lie beside Jay and looked at Adriana. With his skin nearly the same beige color as the duvet, his broad expanse of chest, he seemed like another living, willing canvas for Jay’s bright splash of sunset colors.
For both of you...
She pumped again, faster this time, a little more friction.
Paul’s eyes were heavy and half-lidded, still mesmerizing. He smiled as he toyed with parts of Jay’s body hidden under lace. “She’s hot for you,” he growled. “Fuck her tight little hole. Make her scream.”
Her hips felt the strain, but she was strong, she could hold the rhythm. Jay cried and moaned as he took her strokes. He kept his lovely long legs perfectly spread and open for her. God, she wanted to be him, to sink that far into his beauty. “How does it feel?” she asked, even though she barely had the breath to spare.
“So good, baby. So fucking good—”
Then Paul turned his attentions to Jay’s mouth, and there were no more words for a while. He was firm about what he wanted, but slow and deliberate, sweeping a thumb over his swollen cockhead and hovering it right next to Jay’s panting lips. The sight sent another kind of jolt between her legs, a thrumming like Paul had plucked a string deep inside her, like he was about to stick his cock down her own throat and drive her out of her mind.
But he was gentler with Jay.
And that was right, and fitting.
She kept up her pounding rhythm, kept servicing Jay’s gorgeous tight ass. And Jay kissed at Paul and took him in a little at a time, licking his cock with girlish delicacy, coy tongue flicks, moa
ns with musical tones that swooped wildly between no too much and yes more more more.
Paul pulled away. Jay made a sound of loss, and Paul bent back down to stroke and kiss his forehead. “Sorry, baby.”
Jay took a deep breath. “It’s—” Adriana thrust into him with a low rolling snap of her hips. Another deep breath. “—okay.”
“Adriana’s been good to you. I thought I’d fuck her for a while.”
She almost missed a beat, but the rhythm was so strong now, it was almost like a second heartbeat. Second nature.
“Yes,” Jay said. “Anything you want. Oh, oh—” His words turned into a whine of pleasure as she ground a vicious circle inside him.
“Keep going,” Paul instructed as he took up a position behind her.
Anything you want.
“I’m ready for you,” she gasped.
He had two lube-slick fingers thrust inside her ass before she even realized what he was doing. “Keep. Going,” he whispered in her ear, and she did. The friction burned, but the sense of being filled triggered a soothing reaction, evoked...the concept of healing, the concept of flesh fitting the way it should. This is my reward, she told herself, clenching her teeth and trying not to cry out in shock. Torn between agony and fulfillment, her whole body shivered with the strain, her breasts suddenly heavy and rubbing painfully against tight lace.
She couldn’t keep going when Paul took his fingers out and eased in the head of his cock. She leaned down onto Jay and gripped his thigh and closed her eyes and thought of nothing besides opening for him, becoming his—becoming theirs—fully and forever.
Paul was kind. Her body’s vague confusion turned to very specific pleasure as he massaged more lube all around her pulsing ring. “So soft,” he murmured in her ear. “And strong. It feels nice when I play with you right there, doesn’t it? Open—yes, that’s it. I’ll show you how I fuck.”
“Anything,” she sobbed, echoing Jay. Jay, who was wrapped around her cock, sighing with need and want and love—yes. Show me how to fuck him. Take me over.
Paul pushed in all the way, relentlessly stretching her. She’d never taken so much before. She felt like dying even though the hurt was small. Another man, inside her this far, this deep—it shouldn’t be possible. Paul made it possible. But it didn’t feel good until he stopped all the way inside her and touched her where she met him, tracing the stretched slickness again, calming her disturbed body.
Then it was better than good. It was fucking supernatural. Lightning-playing-over-her-skin-and-crackling-down-her-spine supernatural, riding a storm of sensations and dying and being reborn a million times in the space between two heartbeats. He pushed under her bra to palm her breasts, wrapping her in his thick arms. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t move, and she loved it and she knew he knew that she loved it—he gave her this gift with a willing heart.
He began to move. He moved her with him.
No burning friction, no confusion, only a sense of fullness and being taken over.
“Paul,” Jay said. The name, nothing else.
Take it. Take me. Take him.
“I’ve got you,” Paul said, hard and hot inside her, moving her forward, down onto Jay.
* * *
Too much.
Jay couldn’t help thinking there had to be a price.
Pain? No, pain wasn’t the price, and anyway, what Paul and Adriana were doing to him didn’t hurt all that much. Twinges far inside his body, nerves lighting up along unfathomable pathways. Strain. Stretch. Diffuse discomfort and then oh my God yesyesyes heaven forever lovelovelove back and forth, again and again, their bodies rocking him down and against the soft, yielding mattress and deeper into all-consuming pleasure.
He couldn’t come. There was pain to that. Also pride. He’d put aside what made him a man, and he’d done it gracefully. He opened his eyes and looked to Paul for proof—
“Lie back and take it like a good girl,” Paul said. He framed Adriana, his chin resting on the top of her head as he rode her. “You don’t have to do anything. You’re making me happy just like that. Just like you are.”
“Okay,” Jay said, and closed his eyes again. He liked to make Paul happy. And relaxing was easier this way. The dildo splitting him open was roughly as thick as Paul’s own nice thick cock, and relaxing was pretty crucial, especially with his balls jammed up tight inside him like fucking shock absorbers and there came the ache that he could have swallowed easily, but he gave up the sound for them to hear—“Oh, oh, ai—”
Paul’s praise came down in a harsh voice. “The way you cry. The way—you—”
Adriana’s sweat-slick thighs tensed, pushing hard against Jay’s spread cheeks. Inside him, her thrumming, almost-living cock pressed against a favorite part of his body—one of his favorite things about being a man, really, God he loved getting fucked. And this way Adriana could love it too. Not just mildly enjoy it for his sake, but experience it with him, together, every delicious, maddening stroke...
There was a place in the back of his mind where he still counted the price of this fulfillment. He opened the doors of the place, tore the walls down.
I gave you to each other.
He...stopped counting.
Above, Paul worked Adriana to some form of completion. The sounds made that clear. Jay wanted to open his eyes and see, but his body wasn’t exactly cooperating. Well, that was all right. He remembered how good they looked, anyway—the perfect man and the perfect woman. And he remembered how precious he was to them as the pleasure rippled through him, waves that rose and fell but never crashed onto any shore.
A new and not unpleasant ache in the lower part of his body—oh, they were withdrawing, straightening his legs. He stretched his muscles languorously, curled his toes and used them to carve lazy, meaningless lines into the mattress, tested the flex of interior parts. Every inch of him felt strong and vital and warm.
Except one inch just above his right ear. He was itchy there. Damn.
“Is my wig falling off?” he asked.
“Umm, yes,” Adriana answered, giggling. She lay beside him, propped on her elbow. Her eye makeup was a little smudged, sexy and smoky—he probably looked the same. The darkness around her eyes made them shine all the brighter.
Paul reached over and lifted the wig away, then massaged the crown of Jay’s head with his big, clever fingers, drawing magic patterns like a magnet stirring iron shavings. Jay loved those hands to distraction, to the point where he’d rather feel Paul’s hands stirring him than move or think or even fucking breathe.
“You still look pretty without the wig,” Paul said. “Pretty in a sharper way.”
“Thank you,” Jay said, and because he couldn’t stop himself, added, “thank you, kind sir,” then broke into giddy laughter. Adriana followed him. Paul smiled down on them fondly. “Really, though, God, that was amazing. I felt so close to both of you.” Tell them. Always tell them. “I still do.”
“I thought I was hurting you, for a bit,” Adriana murmured, her honey-sweet lips curled in a smile. “But I...I trusted you.”
“It did hurt,” he said, “but in a good way. Like exercise, I guess. Not like...not like the way you like, sometimes. I think.” Her smile faded at that, but came blazing right back when he found her hand and laced his fingers into hers. “We’re never going to be the same, and that’s all right. We came close tonight. I can’t believe how close.”
Paul leaned down and played with the edge of Jay’s stockings, slipping his fingers under the elastic, then letting it lightly snap back again, teasing and tugging and making Jay complain—not that he could put his discontent into actual words, but he let out a wordless, petulant moan. “I’m sorry,” Paul said, not sounding sorry at all. “Do you want to come?”
Jay growled, “Of course I...” but then something in Adriana’s bl
issful smile made him pause, reconsider, decide to stay with her longer in this space where Paul held all the power. He shifted to the left, into Paul’s looming form, felt the reliable heat of Paul’s stomach pressing hard against his lower back. “If you want me to...” Jay ended, in a much smaller voice.
“Not yet,” Paul said, hand trailing upward along Jay’s inner thigh with excruciating slowness. “But is there anything else you need from me, while you’re still my girl?”
It took Jay a while to figure out what Paul meant. By the time he’d come up with some kind of answer, Paul’s hand gently cupped him in the tight triangle where every nerve seemed to tangle.
“No,” Jay whispered. “This was...what I wanted. You made me feel loved.” He took a sharp breath, suddenly unhappy because for once the words were failing him, falling into confusion. It hurts, why, why—This wasn’t about playing around with gender, because as much as he’d ever been punished for not being the right kind of man, he’d never surrendered, never been defeated. This wasn’t about pretty soft boys and proud hard girls and who did what to who...
It was about the terrifying divide between the present and the future.
Jay had said the right word the wrong way. He didn’t mean to have been loved so completely. Grammar, tense, oh yes—to love. To promise love. He wanted that with Paul as much as with Adriana.
“Promise to stay with us,” he said, while he still had the courage.
“Jay,” Adriana warned, shaking her head.
“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked her, shocked and wounded and numb. “Don’t you want that too?” He’d felt so clear in that moment, and so sure he’d found the right words.
“I—” She turned onto her stomach and hid her face.
“It’s all right,” Paul said. “Maybe this isn’t the time. And we have time. Ask again, whenever you want. I’ll say yes.”
For all the warmth that surrounded him, Jay felt frozen from her silence. Her voice, when it finally came, was muffled and fragile. “I don’t want to—to hold you. You’ll get tired. And go.”