by Tanya Chris
For the last year, at least, he’d needed to strain so hard towards orgasm, but now it moved towards him with blinding speed as all the points of contact his two lovers were making with him merged into a full-body pleasure-rush.
“Joe,” he mumbled, urging him to fuck if he was going to fuck.
“I need a condom.”
Pyotr hopped up and went over to the dresser and came back with a strip of condoms, giving Tanner time to decompress.
“Should we switch around?” he offered, when Pyotr went back down to his knees.
“No one put you in charge,” Joe teased. He pressed on his hips to roll him towards Pyotr’s waiting mouth, then wrapped an arm around his upper leg and lifted it to slide inside.
It’d only been two days since he’d had Joe’s cock inside him, and Joe had just had two fingers up there, so he was surprised by how unexpectedly extra good it felt. When the head of Joe’s cock scraped over his prostate, it sent tingles all the way down to his toes.
Despite the break he’d just gotten, he knew he could be coming in a moment if Joe would just give it to him good once or twice, but Joe didn’t seem to be in a hurry and Pyotr slowed down to match the pace he set.
They rocked him between them, Joe easing himself in and out more than thrusting—not getting all the way deep or all the way out, just short, slow strokes over his prostate—and Pyotr moving slowly up and down, back and forth. His cock slid down Pyotr’s throat, then Joe’s cock slid up his ass. As Joe withdrew, Pyotr sucked in. Back and forth. Overwhelmingly soft and good and building ever so slowly.
Joe’s arm tightened around his chest and his breathing deepened. He was feeling it too, this slow climb. “Pyotr,” he choked out.
“I’ve got him,” Pyotr said. He sucked harder, moving faster now, and Joe moved in concert with him and that edge that had been so slow coming suddenly raced towards him at blinding speed. His balls drew up in Pyotr’s hand. They convulsed as Joe finally buried himself all the way, wrenching both a scream and an orgasm out of him simultaneously. He came in jerking blasts inside Pyotr’s mouth as Joe grunted against him.
His head spun. That had maybe been too much, as Joe had predicted, but it had felt so good, been exactly what he’d needed. Pyotr lifted his head from his dick with a wicked grin. He raised up on his knees to kiss him, his mouth salty with semen. Joe lifted his head to kiss Pyotr too, stretching over Tanner to reach.
“Your turn,” Joe said. “You want to fuck me?”
Joe would let Pyotr fuck him? Tanner had just come but he’d totally be up for watching that.
“Nah,” Pyotr said. “Just stay there.” He stood up and thrust his cock over the bed, and Joe leaned across Tanner to suck it in.
“I could move” he suggested, but Joe and Pyotr both hushed him, so he lay there with Pyotr’s beautiful cock playing peek-a-boo as it fucked in and out of Joe’s widely-stretched mouth.
He would enjoy watching Pyotr fuck Joe, but this was good too—the most up-close porn he’d ever seen. Dick. Mouth. Right there in front of his eyes. And Pyotr was fucking Joe. Hard. When Tanner had blown him the other day, Pyotr had gone easy, letting him set the pace and never trying to take control, but he owned Joe.
Joe hadn’t pulled out of him and his dick hadn’t gone soft either, so Joe’s movements back and forth as he took Pyotr’s cock rocked him too, as though he were still being fucked.
He twisted his neck to get a better lock at Joe’s face. His eyes were closed. Not scrunched tight like he was suffering. Just lightly shut, like this was his happy place. Pyotr’s eyes were open and they met Tanner’s with a smile. He ruffled a hand through the mop of curls on his head. Pyotr had one hand on the back of Joe’s head, steering, driving, clenched tight enough in Joe’s hair that he was sure it must hurt, while the other petted him with light, loving strokes.
“Suck,” Pyotr commanded, and Tanner’s gaze returned to Joe. He saw Joe hollow his cheeks and then he heard Pyotr’s strangled moan as he went deep, burying himself in Joe’s throat. Joe’s eyes opened, wide and shocked, and the air between Pyotr and Joe, the space Tanner occupied, sizzled with the electricity of their coupling as Pyotr unloaded himself into Joe’s mouth.
Only then did Pyotr’s hand relax its grip on Joe’s hair. His legs sagged and he bumped Tanner over to wedge himself onto the bed.
Joe pulled his dick, only now starting to soften, out of his ass and clambered over them.
“Where are you going?” Pyotr asked.
“To get rid of this condom.” Joe unrolled the condom from his cock and tucked it into a box from the top drawer of his dresser. Weird.
“Humor me,” Joe said when Pyotr glared at him.
“Fine,” Pyotr said. “You did what you needed to do. Now come back to bed. You know I’m a cuddle whore.”
“Too small for three,” Joe argued.
Joe wandered over to the window, still naked, as Tanner wiggled to align himself more comfortably with Pyotr. Joe wasn’t wrong about the bed being too small for three. It was too small even for two. Shame they hadn’t messed around while they’d had the mattresses down on the floor. It would’ve been like a pornographic bouncy castle.
He closed his eyes and let his breath settle into a rhythm with Pyotr’s. As gently as they’d treated him, as little as they’d asked from him, he could feel it now. In the absence of other sensation, the wearying ache settled back in.
Chapter 16
Pyotr
The peace and rightness Pyotr had felt at joining the three of them together was diminished by Joe’s abrupt departure from the bed. He didn’t come back when ordered either. He was an amazing bottom in bed but went rogue as soon as he got off. Now he was lurking by the window, his naked ass presented to the room, refusing to re-join them.
“Everything OK out there?”
“Looks like we’ve got a visitor.”
He sat up, taking a half-asleep Tanner with him. “Sorry, Tasha. Duty calls.”
He joined Joe at the window, his eyes scanning down the trail that ran east towards Flume. “I don’t see anything.”
“Wait. They just came into view. Watch for the thing that moves.”
He trained his eyes at the far end of the trail. He couldn’t make out anything yet, but he trusted Joe’s mountain sense. Sure enough, his eye caught something—more a flicker of motion than any specific shape. He went over to the floor where he’d shucked his pants and pulled them back on.
“No hurry,” Joe said. “It’ll take him an hour from there. If that’s even him. Could be any random trekker.” But he also started getting dressed.
Tanner reached over the edge of the bed, his hand fishing for his own clothes, and Pyotr found them and handed them to him.
“I need those plans.”
There was no way around it now. If he was going to succeed in this mission, if he was going to have enough influence with the agency to save Tanner when the mission ended, he needed something to sell Green Tea.
Tanner rose, dressed only in pants with his t-shirt in hand, and headed for the door, then stopped and turned back to Joe.
Fuck, it hurt. It hurt that Tanner sought out Joe’s approval over his own. It hurt that Joe hadn’t given it before now.
“You really have the plans?” Joe asked him.
Tanner nodded.
“Then you heard the man. He needs them.”
He exhaled in relief. His mission was on the line, but that didn’t mean half as much to him as knowing that Joe and Tanner trusted him. He followed Tanner out of the room, watching as Tanner’s shirt came down to cover his too-bony back, and into the foyer, but Tanner surprised him by heading for the door not the staircase.
“They’re outside?”
“No, just here.”
Leaning against the wall next to the door, below the coat rack where their coats hung, was a pile of trekking poles. Tanner grabbed one of them and pulled the rubber handgrip off the top. From the hollow tube that formed the body of the pole, he
extracted a few sheets of blueprint, rolled so tight they fought Pyotr’s attempts to uncurl them.
These were the plans, all right. Not that he knew the first thing about osmotic power or what an engine that used it would look like, but the plans were labeled in a drafting font with the correct code name. He ran his finger over the embossed Department of Defense logo in the corner. He hadn’t expected physical plans to begin with, but certainly not originals.
“How’d you get these out of the building?”
Plans like this were carefully tracked. It was one thing to take a quick snapshot with your phone, another thing to walk out of the building carrying them, but that appeared to be what Tanner had done. He listened to Tanner describe how he’d come by the plans with growing disbelief.
“So you signed them out under your own name, and then just walked out with them? How did you expect to get away with this? What were you going to say when they asked you where the plans were?”
Tanner shrugged. “That I’d lost them?”
“That you’d lost them?” The blueprints measured two feet by three feet and contained classified state secrets. They couldn’t possibly be lost. “Even if they’d believed you, which they wouldn’t have, they’d have fired your ass so fast. How long ago did you take these?”
“Tuesday.”
Tuesday. Today was Sunday. Shit. “There’s probably a delegation down at Ganymede already, just waiting to arrest your ass. Never mind the CIA. Any mall cop could figure out who took these.”
He had to remind himself that Tanner couldn’t be as stupid as he seemed. Someone his age didn’t get close to plans this important without having shown a lot of promise, but fuck. And trekking poles?
“I can’t believe how reckless you were, leaving these laying around where anyone could grab them. These poles all look the same.”
Tanner pointed to a wrap of red tape around the bottom of the grip he’d removed. “That one’s mine.”
So the pole was marked, so what? That wouldn’t have stopped someone from walking off with it.
He carried the plans into the great room and spread them out across the table, then pulled out his phone. If nothing else, he was getting a backup.
“You’re just using your cell phone?” Tanner asked. “You don’t have a spy camera?”
“Why carry a spy camera when I have a cell phone like every other living person? And by the way, this is what you should have done. You could’ve scanned the plans at your desk, signed them back in, and sailed out of there without leaving any evidence. If the CIA hadn’t intercepted your communications with Green Tea, this never would’ve come back to you.”
“How are you scanning those?” Joe asked. He too had followed him into the great room and was watching as he methodically ran his phone over the plans from about six inches away. “Is it a CIA app?”
“It’s called SuperStitch,” he told Joe. “Free with ads, or three ninety-nine without. I sprang for the professional version.”
“All right, James Bond. Tanner and I don’t know anything about spying, but you and Tanner are helpless ten feet away from an electrical outlet, and you and I aren’t about to build a submarine. We all have our strengths.”
Yeah, OK. He got that. He knew his tone had been harsh, but Joe didn’t appreciate how much harder Tanner’s obvious guilt was going to make things. He’d imagined Tanner willingly turning himself in, with all the leniency that usually entailed. Now they might be dealing with a criminal investigation already in progress. It wasn’t like he had any sway with local law enforcement if Tanner’s employer sent the sheriff after him.
He rolled up the plans and stuffed them back inside the tube. It was a good, weather-proof way to carry them without crinkling them, he’d give Tanner that. If you were going to bring physical plans up a mountain—and who the fuck did that?—this was the way to do it. He tapped the hand grip back on and took a look at the result. Definitely well disguised.
What else did he need to take care of before Green Tea arrived? His gun. He’d ditched it when he’d gotten undressed so it wouldn’t accidentally blow off an important piece of anyone’s anatomy while they fooled around. He went into Joe’s room and strapped it on, then took a peek out the window. The figure closing in on them was clearly visible now, though still less than halfway across the swath of snow stretching out towards Longline. Plenty of time.
He had his gun. He had the plans. Get Tanner squared away and out of sight in Joe’s room. What else did he need to do? Focus. He needed to focus. He used to be the epitome of cool in the minutes leading up to a mission and now—
He called Tanner in and sat him down on Joe’s bed, then sat next to him and took his hand. Tanner had looked well enough while they’d all been fooling around, well enough that Pyotr had nearly forgotten he was in the middle of detoxing, but he didn’t look well now. He looked scared and sick and Pyotr found himself torn between doing his job and taking care of him.
“I wanted to talk to you before things get crazy.” He squeezed Tanner’s hand. “You might not see me for a couple of days, but you know I’ll be there, right? As soon as I can get things wrapped up, I’ll come find you.”
“Are they going to arrest me?”
“They might. I’ll get you out, but it might take me a few days, depending what authorities are involved.”
“Good thing you got clean when you did,” Joe said from the doorway. “I’ve detoxed in jail before and that’s no joke.”
Tanner shuddered.
“The main thing,” Pyotr went on, “is don’t talk. Say you want a lawyer—that’s it.” He paused, knowing this next bit might hurt. “And don’t mention me, OK? Don’t ask for me. I’m going to help you, but you gotta let me do it from behind the scenes.”
He knew he’d have to explain his relationship with Tanner to his superiors at some point, but he wanted to do it on his own terms with a closed mission behind him.
Tanner looked up at him with worried eyes.
“It’s going to be OK,” he told him, feeling how empty those words were. It would be OK. Somehow. He’d make it OK. But there wasn’t a lot of reason for Tanner to believe him. It wasn’t like they had a long history together. Hopefully a future, but not much history.
“Once we get you out of there, I’d like it if you came home with me. You don’t have to. I’ll still help you either way, but I figured San Diego would be hard for you—the dealers and the memories and all.”
“They have heroin everywhere,” Joe observed.
“Not up here,” he shot back.
Joe was one to sneer when he lived on top of a fucking ice mountain. Pyotr was trying to ask Tanner to be a more permanent part of his life and Joe’s fucking cynicism was spoiling the moment. He looked over his shoulder at Joe who was leaned up against the door jamb like he was a casual spectator to their relationship. “Could we have a minute?”
Joe looked around the room as if making the point that it was his room, after all, but then he said, “Sure. I should go get the dorm ready. Been kind of neglecting my job for the last couple of days.”
Me too, he thought as he watched Joe fade away, already sorry he’d chased him off. Because this did involve Joe, and he’d get to that. Just … one at a time.
“So,” he said, turning back to Tanner, “do you think you’d like that? We’ll get you into a rehab near DC and I can visit or whatever, and when you get out, if you want, you can come live with me for a while.”
His stomach lurched as he issued the invitation, almost like he was detoxing himself. The change would be no less life-altering for him. To have someone he was responsible for, to have someone to acknowledge …
He didn’t think of himself as being in the closet, not when his sexuality had been the basis for his coming to the United States in the first place, but those first handlers, the ones who remembered how and why he’d ended up as a double agent, were long gone.
The support team he worked with now didn’t know he was gay because
they didn’t need to know. They didn’t need to know anything about him. He was a shell, taking on whatever persona they asked him to take on. He didn’t say things like, “I’m going on vacation with my boyfriend,” because he didn’t go on vacations. Or have boyfriends.
To invite Tanner into his life meant to change everything about it. He’d have to think seriously about coming in from the cold, hanging up his spy hat and taking a nice desk job, the kind of job where the people he loved couldn’t be made into political pawns for the crime of loving him back. And if he resigned from undercover work, he could get in touch with Russia again, with the people he’d left there. His mother. His sisters.
This image of a new life full of people was as simultaneously scary and appealing to him as a clean and sober life might be to Tanner.
“I’d live with you?” Tanner asked uncertainly.
“While you get on your feet. Get a new job, whatever you need to do. I mean, maybe you were going to go home ...”
Tanner shook his head quickly. “They don’t want me there. I already pissed them off a lot. When they hear about this mess, forget it.”
“But when they see you’re doing better …”
“I’d rather stay with you. If you really mean it.”
“I really mean it.” He ignored the parts of his brain that were screaming at him not to commit, to hedge his bets, to give it more time. He didn’t have more time. Green Tea might be less than half an hour away.
“Then I guess I will,” Tanner said. He leaned into him, then sat up again suddenly. “Are you just asking because you feel sorry for me?”
“I’m asking because I don’t want you to walk out of my life. I don’t know how this’ll work, but if you’re in DC, we have time to figure it out.”
“What about Joe?”
“I want Joe too. Is that all right?”