Braided

by Michael, Sean

  “I...i...it's in the b...bathroom, B...bowie. W...want it?"

  He shivered, cock jerking a little.

  "I'll get it. You keep your brother warm."

  He turned and they pressed together, giving each other long, slow, deep kisses that made him breathless, dizzy. They knew when Bowie was back, their lover’s purrs filling the room.

  "We should move to the bed," murmured Bowie, pulling it from its hiding place in the wall. Bowie helped them up, both of them moaning, pushing towards their lover. That earned them a heated growl, Bowie's fingers playing over their asses, their cocks.

  Oh, it felt good. Hot. Necessary. "Bowie."

  "Right first try," laughed Bowie.

  They were laid out on the bed, letting Peter wrap around him from behind. "Are you ready for the wand, Paul? Ready to fly for us?"

  "I... Does it hurt, Bowie? What does it feel like?"

  Bowie took his face in those big hands. "Paul. You watched me take it, watched me beg Peter to let me come, it was so good. Helped carry me, all melted and extremely untoplike, back home. Quit stalling and let me send you into the stars."

  "I'm scared, a little."

  Bowie kissed him, tongue sliding between his lips, those green eyes never leaving his. "Have you never had a wand in before?"

  "No. No, Peter didn't want to try."

  Peter blushed, ducked his head. "I...I... used to b...be scared a l...lot."

  "There no reason to be scared now though, neither of you. I would never do anything I believed would hurt you -- well, obviously that's not true, but I think you know what I mean. There's physical pain and then there's emotional pain. That's the one I wish to avoid."

  He nodded and so did Peter, both of them pressing close.

  "Then trust me, Paul, trust Peter, and let's do this."

  "I do. I do, Bowie." He nodded, leaning into the mattress, thighs parting.

  Bowie leaned in to lick at the tip of his cock, tongue sliding, pressing into his slit.

  "Mmm..." He wiggled, stretched, feeling the heat of Bowie's tongue all through him.

  The head of his cock was tugged between Bowie's lips, his lover sucking a moment or two before backing off.

  The wand was quickly lubed up.

  "You're enjoying this, Petey," Paul said.

  Peter nodded, eyes shining.

  Bowie chuckled. "I hope you both are."

  Using his fingers, Bowie put a large dollop of lube on top of his prick and pushed it into the slit. Then came the wand, the end teasing its way in and then fucking whoosh in it went, just like that, gravity pulling it down.

  "Oh. Oh, it..." He wiggled, toes curling. It didn't hurt. It sort of... stung and pushed and... Oh. Oh. Inside him.

  Bowie picked up the controls and, watching him carefully, set the wand vibrating.

  He jerked, sensation shooting through him, sharp and undeniable, inescapable. "Bowie! Petey! I..."

  "Yes." Bowie's mouth found his, teeth biting at his lips, tongue pushing in strongly.

  Shaking, he grabbed his cock, trying to ease the vibration, opening wide for Bowie. Bowie's hand found his, almost casually, pulling it away from his cock and holding it above his head.

  His breath came quick and light, eyes rolling, hand tugging. "L...love. Bowie."

  "Yes," murmured Bowie, fingering the controls, making the vibrations harder and then softer and then back up again. He twisted, hips snapping up, ass clenching around the plug. Bowie hummed, kissing him softly.

  "Peter? Hold Paul's hands over his head for me, please."

  "O...okay." Peter moaned, fingers wrapping around his wrists, surprisingly tight.

  "Good."

  Bowie’s hands stroked down his sides, soothing and arousing at once, fingers of one hand disappearing now and then to play with the setting of the vibrations inside him.

  He whimpered, eyes closed, body on fire. "Bowie. Peter. Please. I... I need to touch."

  "N...no. No, Paulie."

  Bowie hummed again, licking at his jaw, his ear. "Peter says no. This is for you. Just enjoy it, Paul."

  "Bowie. Bowie. I... It's so big. So big." He met Bowie's eyes, so green.

  "So is my love for you." Electricity sparked through his cock with the words.

  He arched, tears filling his eyes. "Oh, Bowie..."

  Bowie lapped at his tears, the wand buzzing and sparking, overwhelming.

  He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't stop moving, muscles tight, vibrating. "I... I'm scared. Bowie. I can't..."

  Everything suddenly stopped and Bowie's mouth covered his, the kiss slow, soft, almost chaste except for the tongue that tasted him.

  When the kiss ended those green eyes were watching him. "I've got you, Paul. Peter and I have you."

  "Oh. Have me." He took a deep breath, still trembling, but there. "Sorry. Sorry, Bowie. I got scared."

  Bowie nuzzled his neck, rubbed their noses, licked his lips. "I would have been angry if you hadn't told me, Paul." Bowie kissed him again. "But you did and we have you and now you can fly."

  The vibrations started again, another spark lighting through him. "Just let go," whispered Bowie, undoing the leather that bound his prick.

  His hips jerked, entire body rippling, pleasure filling him.

  "Show me," murmured Bowie, pulling out the wand, hand massaging his balls. "Show us."

  "Yes..." Everything went still, blood rushing in his ears as he dissolved, gave all he was.

  Eventually he came back down, the sound of Bowie's purrs all around him, his lover holding him close, Peter still spooning him.

  "Love." Tears slipped from his eyes, pure adrenaline, pure emotion. "I love."

  "Yes, pretty Pet. Yes. I love you, Paul."

  Those big hands stroked him, held him close, kept him warm, kept him together.

  He nodded, let himself dissolve, let himself believe in Bowie's hands.

  "I..is he o...o...okay?"

  "He's better than okay, Peter. He's melted and safe and warm and ours."

  "O...oh." Peter kissed the back of his neck, so gentle. "G...good."

  "Yes, very good. My beautiful boys, so good today. You both bring me such joy."

  He could hear Bowie kissing Paul and then it was his turn, the words "such joy" repeated, pushed into his mouth.

  He opened up, lips and heart and soul, surrounding himself with his family.

  Chapter Fifteen

  He'd dreamed about Paulie running away, leaving them, fucking other people, wearing other men's marks, belonging to other men. So he was growly from the start, every little slight -- intended or not -- driving him mad, making him snap and lash out. He knew Paulie'd promised. He knew, but if Paul hadn't run before, he wouldn't be worried now and he was. He was worried.

  It took Paul more time to start bitching back than he'd thought. Hell, they weren't screaming until well after luncheon and the hitting and throwing things waited until the shop was closed.

  "What is your problem, Petey?" Paul ducked a volley of ink bottles that pinged off the wall and rolled. "Hey! I need those!"

  "I...I'm t...tired of y...you leaving y...your shit everywhere, you slob!" He hurled a bottle of antiseptic, watched it bounce off Paul's shoulder.

  "I am not. I've been trying. I had..."

  Peter didn't want to hear it, just screamed at the top of his lungs and launched himself at Paul, fists and feet flying. The sound of the door slamming was loud. Bowie's growls were not, though they were clear enough.

  Paul pushed him away, nose bloodied. "Get away from me. Leave me alone."

  "Y....you'd like that, w...w...w...wouldn't you? T...to b...b...be able to just g...g...go away again? You bastard!"

  "What the fuck is going on?" Bowie moved to stand between them, giving him a quick once-over before grabbing a cloth from their workbench and holding it to Paul's nose.

  "I don't know, Bowie. I don't know." Paul shook, face bright red.

  "L...liar. Y...you've b...b...been b...bugging me a...all day."


  Bowie's eyebrow went up. "Paul?"

  "I haven't. I haven't."

  Peter nodded, pointing at Paul, so mad. "H...have too!" All day and all last night!

  Bowie growled again. "I'm not playing this game with you. Follow me."

  And with that Bowie headed out, obviously expecting them both to follow.

  He leaned forward, hissing. "H...he'll b...believe me. I n...never left."

  The sudden tears in Paul's eyes almost made the hurt inside him ease, almost. Then he followed Bowie, not even looking to see if Peter was behind him.

  "Don't make me gag either of you before we get there," growled Bowie, his back stiff as he stabbed at the button to call the lift.

  He didn't say anything, just stood and vibrated, waiting for Paul. He just wanted to stop being so angry, to go home. They didn't go home, though. When they got into the lift, Bowie pressed the button for the next floor up, where all the private play rooms were. Their lover signed them into a room and led the way, all without a word, just the occasional glare directed at them both.

  He followed, ignoring Paul who was lagging behind, eyes on the floor. "B...b....bowie?"

  "Unless it's an urgent question, Peter, I'd like to get to the bottom of this first." Bowie's eyes were so green. Intense.

  He shook his head, "I... N...no. N...not u...u...u...urg...gent."

  "Good."

  Bowie nodded at the twin chains that hung from the ceiling. "You'll both be bound. I'll not gag you unless you interrupt. You'll each have a chance to tell me your side of what's going on. But I mean it -- one word without my leave and I'm breaking out the gags."

  He nodded and Paul just stood inside the door, face hidden in the dark hair. He walked over to Bowie, looking for a hug, for comfort.

  Bowie gave him his hug, but his lover was still stiff, angry, and he was put into the chains first, hands in cuffs over his head, feet just barely on the ground. Then Paul was given the same quick hug and put into the chains across from him.

  Paul's eyes were closed, not fighting the cuffs, just hanging there, sort of empty and silent and scary.

  "Paul. I want you to go first. I want to know what's going on, what happened today that it ended in the two of you screaming and hitting each other."

  Bowie stood slightly to the side and between them, arms crossed over his chest, looking solid and immoveable.

  "Peter's mad at me. I'm a slob and stuff." The words were flat, emotionless.

  "Is that all you have to say?"

  Paul nodded, one tear escaping the closed eyes. One of Bowie's hands slid along Paul's belly, the other across Paul’s face and that tear was collected by one thick finger.

  "Your turn, Peter."

  "H...he m...m...makes m...me m...m...m...m...mad. He l...l...leave things e...everywhere a...and st...st...steals the p...pillows and t...teases a...and I...I...I..." He stamped his foot. "I...I'm mad!"

  "What makes today different from any other day, Peter?"

  I dreamed he left us again and loved other people. "H...h...he's just a...a...aggravating m...me!"

  "Well there must be some reason he's aggravating you today when he's not doing anything more than what he does every other day." Bowie didn't look like he was in a hurry to be anywhere but where they were.

  "D...doesn't h...he a...aggravate you? H...he's l...loud a...and m...m...messy and a...a...always in tr...trouble and r...ruining th...things." Except Paul didn't much. Not anymore. Bastard.

  Bowie frowned again, gave Paul a look and then came over to him, framing his face in those solid hands.

  Bowie's eyes met his, held his. "This aggravates me, this fighting between you. And I can't remember the last time Paul was in trouble. Oh, he got spanked, only because it's what we both wanted. Talk to me, Peter, this isn't like you at all."

  "I...I...I...I h...h...h...h...had a dream."

  "It must have been a bad one," Bowie said softly.

  He nodded. "H...h...h...he r...r...ran a...a...a...away and l...l...l...l...l...l..." He swallowed, shook his head. "Loved s...someone else."

  "Oh, Peter..." Bowie kissed him softly and then stepped aside. "Look. He's right here. Miserable, because you're fighting. He promised he wouldn't leave again."

  Paul just stood there, almost like he was asleep, like he was hiding. From him.

  "I..." He didn't know what to say.

  Bowie sighed and shook his head. "What a mess."

  He got popped on the ass. "You talk to me or to Paul next time you have a problem instead of turning it into a fight."

  Bowie released him, strong fingers massaging his wrists. He nodded, cuddling into Bowie's arms, wrapping around Bowie's strength and holding on.

  Bowie held him a moment and then led him to the pull-out bed, lying him on it. "I have to get your brother."

  He nodded, watched as Bowie moved over to Paul, unhooked the thin arms from the cuffs. Bowie massaged Paul's wrists and brought his twin over, supporting Paul.

  Paul sat on the edge of the bed, eyes and lips and heart still closed off.

  Bowie knelt in front of Paul, hands on his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks. "Paul... do you have more you want to say? You're obviously still upset."

  Paul shook his head, cheeks red and hot, lashes wet and it was his fault. Bowie hummed softly, lips pressing to Paul's, hands sliding on his twin's skin. "I can't read your mind, Paul, much as I think it would make life easier…"

  "I... Sometimes I wonder why." Paul shook his head. "I'm shitty at being good."

  "You wonder why you're shitty at being good?"

  "No. It doesn't matter. I'm sorry I upset Peter."

  Bowie frowned. "No, that's not good enough. From what I can tell you didn't upset Peter, his dream did. And even if you had, your feelings matter too. Do you really believe that they don't?"

  Paul looked at him, the look sort of blank and empty. "I want to go home."

  Peter started shaking. Oh. Oh, he'd been mean. "I...I d...d...didn't m...m...mean it, P...paulie. I...I sh…sh…sh…shouldn't h…have s…said it."

  Paul shrugged. "All the truth. I want to go home."

  "All right. We can finish this there." Bowie nodded and stood, throwing them each over a shoulder in a fireman's carry and walking out of the room.

  He looked over at Paul, reaching for his twin. "I... Please. P...please. I'm s...sorry."

  Bowie didn't say a word, just carried them both like they weren't a burden at all, getting them into the lift. He shouldn't have ever done it. He knew better. It just... Oh, he was so scrambled, so confused.

  Bowie carried them out of the lift. "One of you hit the door plate," growled their lover.

  Paul didn't move, so he did it. "I...I'm so s...s...sorry, Bowie."

  Bowie walked in and took them to the bedroom, dumping them both on the bed. "You're apologizing to me for fighting, yes? Because anything else you owe Paul an apology for, not me."

  Peter nodded. "P...p...paul?"

  Paul sighed and curled up in the pillows. "'S fine, Peter."

  "Is it really?" Bowie asked, hand sliding down along Paul's spine. "Because it doesn't look all right to me."

  "I... Oh, B...b...bowie. I...I was mean. I s...said that y...you would b...believe m...m...me because P...p...p...paulie left." He shook his head.

  Bowie went stiff. "That is mean, Peter. And untrue. Not to mention, I expect both of you to be honest with me."

  He nodded. "I...I...I'm sorry. I a...am."

  "Why didn't you tell me and Paul about the dream, Peter?"

  "I...I d...don't know. I w...was m...m...mad. I w...wanted to m...m...make h...him mad too."

  Bowie growled and shook his head. "The two of you are not five years old and you need to stop acting like you are."

  Paul stood up, nodded. "Bowie's right. I'm going to order food for latemeal."

  Peter brushed his cheeks, stomach clenching. "L...love you, P...p...paulie."

  "Sit down, Paul. You're not going anywhere."

  Pau
l's eyes flashed, temper and heat and passion visible for a second. "I am trying to be good, Bowie."

  Bowie chuckled. "I know, Paul. But we're not done here. We're not done until you're both loved into melted piles of pretty."