Judith kissed him softly on his lips. “I think it’s time to go on up and see what’s going on. I think Michael’s decided to plant the coffee beans and milk the cow, instead of using the coffee out of a packet.”
~*~
Michael fled before the situation became too uncomfortable. Before his expression betrayed his feelings and ruined everything.
He’d been more affected by Tristan’s masturbation that he’d thought he’d be. Seeing Tristan aroused by watching him have sex with Judith, had caught him by surprize at a moment he’d been vulnerable, and for a moment he indulged in the fantasy that he’d been the cause. That he was the source of Tristan’s arousal.
And then Judith invited Tristan to join them for a threesome. Tristan’s refusal shouldn’t have felt so devastating. Logically, he reasoned that Tristan wasn’t rejecting him personally; they weren’t even talking about sexual contact between him and Tristan, but he’d felt so raw after that scene, he just couldn’t stay; couldn’t risk the outright rejection.
Your hard limits are safe with me. He’d said it, and he meant it.
It was just so damn hard to keep his distance, when he felt so much more.
He considered the coffee, then changed his mind and poured water in the kettle, flipped the switch on, and measured hot chocolate powder into three mugs. He had a few moments to collect himself – to put his armour in place – before he had to face them again. He leaned a hip against the counter and waited for the kettle to boil.
Dimly, he recognized a slight depression, and noted that he was perhaps also suffering from a mild endorphin crash; some chocolate and a little quiet time with his subs should fix that, but damn, one of his subs – and his unrequited feelings – was part of the problem.
The intercom chimed, indicating the front gate had opened, and Michael tensed. Only seven people, other than himself, had the code to the gate. Two of them – the only two he was expecting – were in his basement. Neither his gardener nor his housekeeper would be arriving on a Friday night. Fuck – I hope it’s Derek, and not one of my siblings.
Abandoning the hot chocolate preparations, he headed for the front door.
Gabriel’s Lexus pulled in next to Tristan’s Mazda, and Michael swore softly. As if he wasn’t vulnerable enough, the universe seemed to have decided that he needed some more judgement this evening.
Gabriel exited the car then ducked back inside to get the pizza boxes from the passenger seat.
“Howdy, Big Brother,” Gabriel said cheerfully when he mounted the steps to the stoop.
“I wasn’t aware we had plans,” Michael said mildly.
“The zillion texts I left you wasn’t enough notice? Sevens Rugby!” Gabriel raised an eyebrow.
“Texts?” But then Michael remembered the phone he’d deliberately left on his bedside table when his guests had arrived.
“You got company?” Gabriel nodded at the Mazda. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“I –”
Gabriel didn’t wait for a reply; he headed for the den, two pizza boxes in his arms, a stunned Michael following. Gabriel lowered himself to the sofa and reached for the remote.
“Gabriel, now isn’t a good time,” Michael said softly. His heart was racing at the thought of him finding Judith and Tristan there, especially in the state of undress he’d left them in. That, and he still felt off-balance.
Gabriel paused with a slice of pizza half-way to his mouth.
Footsteps on the wooden stairs to the basement drew Michael’s attention and he felt his blood run cold. The door to the basement opened and Judith entered the den first, wearing one of the terrycloth robes he kept in the towel cabinet downstairs, Tristan right behind her. Thankfully, even though they seemed surprized, Tristan closed the door behind him; he’d rather his brother didn’t see his personal playground.
At Judith’s entrance, Gabriel rose politely. “Oh, hi! I’m Gabriel, Michael’s brother.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Judith said carefully. “I’m Judith, Michael’s… friend.”
That hesitation stung. Not that we’ve discussed what to call… this. Michael kept his face unreadable.
“Tristan Bennett,” Tristan said, reaching around Judith to shake Gabriel’s hand, “Judith’s husband.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Gabriel smiled, but Michael could see the puzzle pieces clicking into place. Gabriel studied them with the shrewd regard that made him a formidable divorce lawyer. Tristan must have felt uncomfortable too, because he put an arm around Judith’s shoulders and pulled her closer. “Are you also here to watch the Sevens Rugby?”
“There’s Rugby on?” Tristan turned to Michael.
“I forgot,” Michael said weakly.
“Well, you three watch the Rugby then,” Judith said. “I’ll go make us something to drink.”
“I can do it,” Michael said. “I can’t expect you to –”
“No, sit,” Judith said. “I don’t particularly follow Rugby, and you have another guest.” She turned her attention to Gabriel. “You know what they say – you know you’re family when you can let yourself in by the back door and help yourself out the fridge.”
A bold statement, considering Gabriel was his brother.
She glided out of the den in her bare feet, leaving the three men behind in the den. Somehow, when they sat down, Gabriel was sitting next to Michael on one sofa, sitting between him and Tristan, who was sitting on the other couch.
“So, Tristan,” Gabriel said, reaching for a slice of pizza. He indicated with his hand that Tristan should help himself. “What do you do?”
“I’m a teacher,” Tristan said, picking up a slice.
“That’s interesting – what grade?” Gabriel asked, his attention riveted on Tristan.
“Grades ten to twelve; Biology, and lately, Geography.”
“That’s interesting,” Gabriel said.
“Gabriel is a lawyer,” Michael offered.
“Oh, like wills and law suits?” Tristan took a bite.
“Family law,” Gabriel supplied. “So, have you known Michael for long?”
“A while,” Tristan said warily.
Judith arrived with their drinks in four mugs, two mugs clutched by the ear in each hand; Michael could smell the hot chocolate. Judith bent to put the mugs down on the coffee table, one in front of each of them, and after Tristan had taken his mug and settled, Judith snuggled in beside her husband, her mug clutched in one hand, a slice of pizza in the other.
Tristan put his arm around Judith while he engaged in conversation with Gabriel. Judith leaned easily against him, and Michael felt so damn alone.
He had no right to hold her; she belonged to her husband.
If anything, it was as if Gabriel had designed this conversation to highlight how Tristan and Judith were a unit, and he was on the outside.
Tristan and Judith sat together on the two-seater couch, with no room on it for Michael.
Tristan and Judith had a shared history without him in it; they were high school sweethearts, and had been married for years.
Tristan and Judith knew everything there was to know about each other; they didn’t know his biggest secret.
Tristan and Judith would leave after this weekend, going on with their lives as a married couple, and didn’t need Michael.
Judith’s eyes mostly followed the conversation with Gabriel, but on the occasion they met Michael’s, he felt like she’d captured his eyes. That her eyes were boring into his soul, trying to understand him. But inevitably, her eyes would leave his and she’d return to the conversation with Gabriel, Tristan’s arm around her shoulder.
Sevens Rugby seemed to have been forgotten; although it played in the background, no-one paid attention to it. After the hot chocolate, Judith had fetched them each a beer, and later a cup of coffee.
Eventually, a text dinged on Gabriel’s phone, and when he checked it, he looked at them sheepishly. “My wife – she wants to know if I’m coming home tonight
or if I’m sleeping over. I didn’t realize it’s almost midnight.”
“Drive safely,” Judith smiled; Michael had never thought he’d be grateful for a sub’s rudeness, but he had no other idea how to get rid of his brother; his nerves were raw. She started gathering empties and started carrying them to the kitchen. “It was lovely to meet you, Gabriel,” she said.
Tristan stood and offered Gabriel his hand. “Yes, great to meet you. Wouldn’t want your wife upset with you; if you’re not careful, you’ll have to sleep on the welcome mat tonight.”
“She wouldn’t be upset,” Gabriel chuckled. “She knows I sometimes stay over.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Michael said softly. He limped slowly to the door, feeling old.
Gabriel followed him out, opened the car door, and propping one foot on the floorboard of the car, leaned his back against the door frame. He leaned his crossed arms on the top of the door and glanced up to the house. “They’re nice people,” he said quietly. “But I worry about you. I can’t believe that she’s sleeping with you; those two seem inseparable. She’s never going to leave him; you’re going to get hurt.”
Michael took a deep breath. “Drive safely – give Caroline my best.”
“Michael –”
“Mind your own business, Gabe.” Michael nodded, and not waiting for Gabriel to leave, he just turned around and headed back for the house. He was almost to the stoop when he heard the Lexus start and reverse out of the parking spot.
He locked the front door and saw the light in the den was still on. When he went to switch it off, he saw that both his subs were still there. When Judith saw him, she stood and came to him, taking his hand in hers and leading him to his spot on the couch. She climbed in his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to rest on her shoulder.
He wrapped his arms around her waist hesitantly. She was a delightful lapful of woman, and he closed his eyes to absorb the comfort of her embrace, no matter that it was borrowed comfort at best. Her fingers carded gently through his hair, and he wanted to melt into her.
“You’re right – this aftercare thing is quite nice,” Judith murmured. “I can see why you insist on it.”
She’s probably right… It’s probably the endorphin drop.
Michael opened his eyes and met Tristan’s across the sitting area. He was sprawled on the other couch, the last of his coffee in his hand, the mug resting on his knee, and his head propped on his other hand. Tristan was studying them with an unreadable expression, then drained the dregs of his coffee. He stood and gathered the four empty mugs, threading the fingers on one hand through the ears, presumably to take them to the kitchen. “It’s getting late; I’m off to bed.” He rounded the couch and leaned over the back of it to kiss Judith briefly on the forehead. He put a hand on Michael’s shoulder and squeezed the muscle in a comforting gesture. “See you in the morning.”
“Good night,” Judith smiled. “I’ll be up later.”
“See you later.”
Michael watched Tristan head out of the den and heard him stack the mugs in the dishwasher before heading up the stairs.
Judith’s fingers were still carding through his hair, the feeling of her blunt fingertips on his scalp lulling him into relaxation.
Just pretend, he thought to himself. I know I can’t keep them – but just pretend she’s mine. For now.
~*~
Chapter 18
Judith was squirming underneath him. She was restrained spread-eagle to the bed in the basement, her wrists and ankles bound by ropes to the four corners of the mammoth bed. Her nipples were tightly beaded with arousal, her chest dewed with droplets of perspiration. She was beautiful. Her hair was damp with sweat and was spread over the pillow, and she was panting for him.
He lowered himself between her thighs and bent to tongue her nipples, then worried them lightly with his teeth – a move he’d learnt from Michael – while she mewled and arched her back in response. He could smell her arousal, and by the urgency of her thrashings, she was primed for orgasm.
When he slipped into her pussy, his cock was gripped by slick warmth. He closed his eyes for a moment, savouring the familiar sensation, and bent to kiss his wife.
A shadow knelt behind him, knees between Tristan’s on the bed, and the mattress dipped under their combined weight. Warm hands kneaded his trapezius muscles, massaging tension away and stroking and working their way down his spine. They stroked over his waist, over his buttocks, down his hips and thighs and back again while Tristan ground his cock into his wife.
He glanced down at Judith, her eyes heavy with lust. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and her hips rolled in invitation, caressing his cock that impaled her while those warm hands caressed his muscles.
A hard chest warmed his back, open-mouthed kisses behind his ear and on the back of his shoulder sent tingles down his spine.
A hand stroked up his thigh and detoured to his ass, jostling the butt-plug lodged in him. Those fingers pulled steadily on the plug, almost removing it before pushing it in gently. All the nerves in that ring of muscle zinged to life, and he panted with sensation.
Someone else had taken the reins.
Someone else had taken responsibility for his and Judith’s pleasure.
Someone else was stimulating him to the point of madness.
Slowly the plug slid free of his ass, and he wanted it back.
“Give me a colour,” the voice growled in his ear.
Tristan’s cock strained inside his wife, beyond hard, ready to come. Another cock, equally hard, rubbed between his buttocks, the tip grazing his balls.
“Your hard-limits are safe with me. Give me a colour.”
“Green,” Tristan gasped, torn between pushing deeper into Judith to increase the sensation on his cock, or pushing back to increase contact with the hard cock behind him. “It’s green!”
The hot glove of Judith’s pussy slid over Tristan’s cock, nearly making him spill on contact. He bucked upwards into his wife’s body as hard as he could, and when that wasn’t enough, he flipped them over and pounded into her so that the headboard knocked against the wall. He rode his wife in a frenzy, roaring his climax as he came and came and came until his balls felt like they’d been squeezed dry to the point of bruising.
He collapsed forward onto his elbows, his face in the crook of Judith’s neck while he caught his breath.
Dimly, he noted that Judith was as out of breath as he was, her passage finally relaxing around his cock as she came down from her own orgasm. Her limbs fell to the mattress, limp as noodles and Tristan rolled off her and collapsed beside her, post-coital lassitude spreading through his limbs.
They were in their own bed, not in Michael’s guest room.
Fuck. He was disoriented.
Judith rolled towards him, nestling her head on his shoulder, and wrapped her arm around his waist. “That was… wow.”
Tristan would have apologized, except he’d come to realize his wife liked it when he ‘went beast’ on her, as she called it. “Yeah, wow. I still don’t know what happened.”
She stroked slowly up his cock, base to tip. “I couldn’t let a good erection go to waste, now could I?”
“What?”
“You were already hard, practically humping my leg in your sleep. You were making me horny.”
Tristan could feel the blood drain from his face in a cold rush. His dream came back in its entirety, except now he could put a face to the nameless shadow behind him.
Michael.
But I’m not gay.
Then why did it make your dick hard? A little voice snickered in the back of his mind.
“Tristan, what is it?” When he didn’t answer, Judith raised herself to her elbow to look down at him. “Tristan, speak to me.”
Judith had once said that she’d find it hot if she watched him and Michael make out, but would she still think it was hot if it was his identity? This revelation could ruin his marriage, a
nd he was terrified.
When he was ten, one of his classmates’ parents had gone through a divorce. His father had come out to his mother and admitted that he was in love with another man, and his mother, so disgusted by this revelation, had taken both her children and moved to New Zealand.
Damn it, I’m aroused by women! Judith! She’s sexy, and beautiful, and…
… And be honest – I’m aroused by Michael too.
“Tristan, I can practically hear the gears in your head grinding. Slow down. Tell me.”
“I had a dream,” Tristan whispered. He cleared his throat and swallowed, his mouth dry with fear. “I dreamed you and I were having a threesome with Michael.”
A smile blossomed on Judith’s face. “That sounds great,” she said. “Does this mean next time you’ll join in?”
Tristan swallowed. “I… In my dream, I was the one in the middle.”
Judith stared at him. He looked away, unable to hold her gaze, but she put her hand to his cheek and turned his head to face her again. “I love you, Tristan Bennett,” she whispered fiercely. “And don’t you dare feel ashamed of who you are.”
“I’m not gay,” he said, but even to his own ears, his voice lacked conviction.
Judith sat up against the headboard and pulled Tristan’s head down to rest in her lap. She combed her fingers through his hair to scratch lightly at his scalp. He wrapped an arm around her thigh and let out a deep, shuddering breath.
“Baby, you’re bi-sexual, not gay. Same as Michael.”
He tightened his arm around her leg, and for several minutes, Judith just ran her fingers slowly over his scalp. Slowly, his tension was dissipating as the long-anticipated rejection never came. “What exactly has you so afraid?” Judith asked. “Did you think there’s something wrong with you? Because there isn’t. Afraid of what other people would think? It’s none of their business.”
“But what about you?” Tristan whispered. “What do you think?”
“You want to know what I think?” Judith smiled. “I think you’ve been my best friend for most of my life. You’re still the same kind, devoted, gentle man I’ve known since we were children. You’re my husband and my lover. And I think this relationship with Michael is finally going to balance, and if you let yourself open up to the possibility of letting Michael completely into your heart, you’ll find out what you’ve been missing.”
Michael Page 19