No Limits

by Nicki Bennett

“What?” Jonathan asked, though given their prep in the shower, he had a fair idea what had put Devon’s hackles up. Since Devon showed no sign of taking another step into the bedroom, Jonathan wrapped his arms around his lover’s chest and peeked over his shoulder at the garments arrayed on the bed—a softly flowing flowered skirt and gauzy top on one side, a slim black ensemble with a substantially shorter hemline (and lower neckline) on the other. He started to chuckle, winning an et tu, Brute? glare from Devon.

  “No fuckin’ way,” Devon insisted.

  “Oh c’mon, it could be fun,” Jonathan coaxed, nudging Devon forward by dint of grinding his burgeoning erection into Devon’s backside.

  “Don’t tell me you’re turned on by this?” Devon protested, though his voice wavered with a hint of humor. “We’d make the ugliest fuckin’ women on the planet.” He turned in the doorway just enough to run a palm over Jonathan’s scruffy chin. “Especially since we both still have beards.”

  Encouraged by the chink in his mate’s armor, Jonathan caught the hand and pressed a kiss in the palm before lowering it to wrap their joined hands around Devon’s cock. “Can’t you imagine that tight little black number sliding over this?” he murmured, his breath ruffling the hair over Devon’s ear. The shaft jumped under his touch, and Jonathan’s voice deepened to a hoarse rasp. “Black silk clinging to all your curves, rubbing against you every time you move,” he purred, fingers coasting over newly shaved skin.

  Devon groaned, rocking into the seductive caress. “Still be… bloody ugly,” he gasped when Jonathan’s tongue flicked into his ear.

  “Beautiful,” Jonathan contradicted, pulling Devon closer against him as he continued to explore the newly bared contours. “You’re always beautiful, Devon, especially when you’re hard for us.”

  “Hey,” Kit called, walking back into the main part of the room from the walk-in where he had put on his suit pants and shirt, “save it for after dinner. We’re expected downstairs in—” He stopped to look at his watch. “—fifteen minutes, and you’re not dressed, nor have I done your makeup.”

  Devon tensed again, and Jonathan’s arms tightened around him. “Do this for Kit?” he murmured, quietly enough that only Devon could hear him. Without waiting for an answer, he gave a final caress to Devon’s now erect cock and slid past him to the floral outfit. “Anything underneath this?” he asked, picking up the sheer blouse. At least the skirt looked like it was made of slightly more opaque material.

  “Just you,” Kit replied, sliding a hand over Jonathan’s chest, enjoying the still mostly smooth skin. “After all, if I get the chance to get my hands on you, I want my hands on you, not on some fake latex tit.” He picked up the black blouse and stepped behind Devon. “Let me give you a hand, luv.”

  Jonathan kept a watchful eye on Devon as he pulled on his own garments, but there was no protest when Kit slid the slinky black top over Devon’s head, then turned him in his arms to start doing up the buttons. The highest one hit Devon midchest, guaranteeing an impressive décolletage, if only Devon had breasts. As it was, Jonathan could barely make out a hint of erect nipples under the dark silk.

  Kit saw them too and pushed the silk to one side momentarily, bending his head to suck on the tight peak until Devon arched into his touch. “See what I mean?” he commented to Jonathan as he straightened, reaching for the skirt as well. He knelt to help Devon step into it, pressing a kiss to the inside of one smooth thigh, then the other as he did. Humming to show his appreciation, Kit adjusted the skirt as he fastened the zipper and hook, making sure the cut of the garment showed off Devon’s arse to perfection. Finished with one of his lovers, he turned to give Jonathan a thorough once-over, pleased with his choice of outfit for him as well. “Come here, Jon.”

  Doing his best to affect a seductive strut, Jonathan walked toward Kit, winking at Devon over his shoulder as he passed. He wasn’t sure where Kit intended to take this, but he was more than willing to play along.

  “I think somebody’s jealous,” Kit teased, smiling at Devon. “C’mon, gorgeous, I’ve got enough love for both of you.” He caught Jonathan’s hand and kissed him thoroughly before urging him toward the bed. “You too, Devon, but just sit there on the end of the bed while I get what I need. I expect you both to still be fully clothed when I get back.”

  “Spoilsport,” Jonathan whispered, running his bare foot up Devon’s leg.

  The sensation felt odd without the normal coating of hair, sending another unaccustomed shiver along Devon’s nerves. Deciding turnabout was fair play, he reached over to tweak at one of the nipples clearly visible through Jonathan’s sheer blouse. Jonathan hummed appreciatively, and Devon risked bending forward to mouth at the pink aureole through the filmy fabric. Jonathan’s hum turned into a moan, and he tangled his hands in Devon’s hair to encourage his attentions.

  “Obviously I needed to be more specific,” Kit commented drolly from the doorway, the borrowed makeup from Blythe and Ellie in hand. They were setting up downstairs to give Devon and Jonathan their manicures as soon as Kit finished decorating their faces. “I can’t even leave you alone for a minute without you two jumping each other, can I?”

  “You only said we had to be fully clothed,” Jonathan pointed out, spreading a hand between them to indicate their compliance, “not that we couldn’t enjoy ourselves.”

  “Like I said, more specific next time,” Kit repeated, setting down the makeup case and flipping it open. “Now, let’s see….”

  “Spoilsport,” Jonathan mouthed again while Kit’s attention was distracted. Devon flipped him the bird, which seemed appropriate given that was what Kit was doing his best to turn them into.

  “Ah, here it is,” Kit exclaimed, finding the container of blush that would go perfectly with Jonathan’s light-colored outfit. Picking up the foundation he’d snagged from the trailer the night before, he set to work on Jonathan’s face, applying blush and eye shadow, mascara and lipstick. Only the beard spoiled the effect, but he knew better than to suggest shaving that. Nudging Jonathan’s chin so he faced Devon, Kit smiled. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

  Devon fought breaking into laughter at the sight of their tarted-up king. “Lovely,” he said solemnly, sure that making any of the comments that sprang to his lips would only incur even worse for himself.

  “Close your eyes and trust me,” Kit instructed Devon, digging in the makeup bag again.

  “Spread your legs and think of England,” Jonathan whispered, stifling an “ow” when Devon jabbed him. Schooling his face to impassivity, Devon inhaled and closed his eyes, a blank canvas for Kit to paint on.

  Whereas with Jonathan, sensing his willingness to play along, Kit had used a fairly heavy hand, with Devon he used a much lighter touch, dusting just enough blush to highlight his cheekbones, only enough eye shadow to accent the set of his eyes, and only a light sheen of lip gloss to offset his mouth. “What do you think?” he asked, turning to Jonathan.

  “Gilding the lily,” Jonathan answered, a genuine smile crossing his face. “You’ve worn more makeup for filming,” he reminded Devon when the other man grimaced at him. “Trust me, you don’t look nearly as silly as you feel.”

  “You’re not helping,” Devon answered with a snort before turning back to Kit. “What now?” he asked, wondering if he dared hope the worst was over.

  Kit reached for his lovers’ battle-scraped hands. “Manicures next,” he told them. “Downstairs at the kitchen table. I didn’t want nail polish up here.”

  Shaking his head, Devon pushed to his feet, heading down the stairs followed by Jonathan and Kit. For the second time that evening, Jonathan plowed into Devon’s back when he came to a dead stop in the doorway to the kitchen. “What are they doing here?”

  Ellie and Blythe merely smiled sweetly, their innocent expressions belied by the mischief dancing in their eyes.

  “They are here to help me tonight,” Kit explained, his hand settling gently on Devon’s lower back.

  “Christ, how many
people know about this?” Devon complained.

  “Just them,” Kit replied. “Oh, and Addison.”

  “Addison! What th’fuck did you tell him for?”

  “Clothes,” Jonathan suggested, having seen their Merlin vamping it up in his own turn in drag on stage.

  “And I suppose the bloody Orkneys will be here before long—why didn’t you just invite the documentary crew to film us while you were at it?”

  “The Orkneys weren’t invited, and neither was the film crew,” Kit replied with a bite in his voice, turning Devon around to face him. “Ellie and Blythe aren’t going to tell anybody.” He stroked Devon’s face softly. “Do we need to stop? I wanted to have a little fun, not freak you out.”

  “It’s just—” Devon took a deep breath, trying to get a handle on his own feelings before he could explain them to Kit. “You said something the other night about wanting to show us off. I’m not comfortable with that—at least, not outside people I know we can trust. I know Blythe and Ellie won’t do more than take the piss with us, but if you’re planning to take us in public—” He shook his head and frowned. “I won’t do that. I can’t.”

  “This is as public as it gets,” Kit promised. “Dinner will be delivered. Ellie, Blythe, and I will answer the door, and the deliveryman will think I’m a lucky son of a bitch. He’ll be right, but not for the reasons he thinks. We’ll shut the door again and let our game play out right here where we’re all safe.”

  Jonathan’s hands settled on Devon’s shoulders, rubbing them lightly, though he didn’t speak. Exhaling, Devon nodded, then smiled. This is Kit, he reminded himself, his own advice from the previous weekend coming back to him. Look forward, not back. “Well then, let’s get on with it,” he asserted, turning his smile on the two actresses at the kitchen table. “Which one of you lovely ladies will I have the pleasure of offering my hands to?”

  “Me,” Blythe told him with a smile. “Come have a seat and let me pamper you to within an inch of your life. After all, a lovely thing like you wouldn’t want to look anything less than your best for your date tonight, would you?”

  “Not when my date’s as hunky as Kit,” Devon gushed, borrowing from his oldest niece’s vocabulary and fluttering his lashes. “All the other girls will be so jealous!” He couldn’t continue and snorted with laughter as Blythe took his hand.

  “Afraid you have your work cut out for you,” Jonathan apologized as he sat across the table from Ellie and displayed his hands. “My nails have taken a bit of a beating.”

  “Tsk, tsk,” Ellie scolded, taking one of Jonathan’s hands in hers. “What have you done to yourself?” She didn’t wait for an answer, pulling out a tube from her manicure set and squeezing the cream onto the battered hands. “No matter, we’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

  The doorbell rang at that moment. Kit watched Devon’s shoulders stiffen before he consciously relaxed again. “I’ll get it,” he said to the two women, sliding a tender hand over the back of Devon’s neck. He shut the door between the kitchen and the dining room to assure their privacy as he went to let in the caterers.

  Blythe was chatting over the table about what she was going to do to Devon’s nails, but he was giving her only half his attention, if that, the rest being stolen by the slow traverse of Jonathan’s toes up his bare calf. He shot a look at his drag-mate, but Jonathan was answering one of Ellie’s comments as if he didn’t have a care in the world and had his nails manicured every Saturday. Shifting on the chair proved useless—Jonathan’s foot followed, teasing at the bend behind Devon’s knee before sliding higher to slip beneath the hem of his skirt. Devon tried to pull a hand free to swat him away, only to earn a reproof from Blythe that if he made her smudge, she’d just have to start all over.

  Finished with the delivery, Kit came back to the kitchen and pulled up a chair as he watched Devon and Jonathan. It amazed him that they had agreed to this, that they loved him enough to do this. Rising again, he kissed each shaggy head. “Love you,” he murmured softly.

  “Now, Kit, don’t muss them up,” Ellie scolded, winking at Jonathan as if she had no idea what he was doing under the table. “After we’ve worked so hard to make them pretty.”

  “We should have borrowed some wigs!” Blythe exclaimed, keeping a firm grip on Devon’s hand as it twitched in her grasp. “Devon would look lovely with Morgause’s long blonde hair, wouldn’t he? And I’d even lend some of Guinevere’s extensions to Jonathan for the cause.”

  “They’re perfect just the way they are,” Kit disagreed, eyes sparkling with love and lust as he trailed his fingers along the backs of his lovers’ necks. “Are their nails about done? I don’t want dinner to get cold.”

  “All finished,” Blythe asserted, taking the bottle of quick-dry topcoat from Ellie and brushing a final layer over Devon’s French tips. “Now just flutter them like this for a minute or two,” she illustrated, her fingers dancing in the air and reaching to encourage her partner to follow her example. Devon’s grimace promised future retribution but left Blythe unfazed.

  “Let me help you up so you don’t bump them, sweetie,” Ellie cooed, rising and crossing around the table to pull out Jonathan’s chair, forcing him to quickly retrieve his foot from Devon’s lap. Grinning unrepentantly, he offered Ellie his arm, only to have her lift hers and drape Jonathan’s hand over it instead. Smiling at Kit while Blythe helped Devon, she patted Jonathan’s forearm. “Let’s get you in to dinner, beautiful.”

  Kit hid a smile at her condescending tone and led the way into the dining room, where his beat-up table was covered with a fine linen cloth and fancy dishes. Pulling out two chairs, he helped first Ellie, then Blythe seat his lovers. “Thank you,” he mouthed in their direction as he took his own seat between the two men.

  “Now you be careful with the wine. You know pretty little things like you have no head for alcohol,” Blythe warned as she spotted the bottle decanting next to the table.

  “Oh, I’m sure Kit will act the perfect gentleman,” Jonathan sighed, blinking at Ellie. “Aren’t you joining us?”

  “We think Kit has his hands full as it is,” Blythe answered, her voice musical with laughter. She followed Ellie to the door, waving Kit back when he would have risen. “We’ll see ourselves out. You all have a good time!”

  “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do,” Ellie added, the two women dissolving into laughter as the door closed behind them.

  “Well, I’m glad they found it so diverting,” Devon observed dryly.

  “Now, now, don’t be catty,” Kit scolded teasingly. “They didn’t have to come help you look your best for our date.” He lifted Devon’s hand to his lips and kissed the tips of the manicured fingers lightly. “And you did want to impress me tonight, didn’t you?”

  “You mean I don’t always impress you?” Devon pouted slightly.

  “Of course you do,” Kit assured him, kissing him gently so as not to smear Devon’s lip gloss, “but tonight is special.” He began taking covers off the dishes on the table. “Avocado salad, escargots in garlic butter, coq au vin, and green beans with almonds,” he enumerated as he revealed the platters. Jonathan started to reach for his plate, but Kit shooed his hand away. “Tell me what you want. I’ll serve you. I wouldn’t want to mess up all of Ellie’s hard work.”

  His head tilting in consideration, Jonathan nodded. “A little of everything, please,” he requested, offering a simpering smile of thanks when Kit set the plate back before him. “It all looks delicious,” he added, settling his napkin demurely in his lap and waiting for Devon to be served before starting to eat.

  Offering a rather gruff thanks in turn, Devon waited until their host filled his own plate before lifting his fork. Appreciating that Kit had the dinner catered rather than trying to cook it himself—the lad meant well, but his kitchen talents were rudimentary at best, unless you counted fucking against the counters—he dug in with rather more gusto than a delicately bred female would have exhibited. “So what do you ha
ve planned after dinner?”

  “I thought I’d take my lovers dancing,” Kit replied with a smile, enjoying the well-cooked meal. He had a whole selection of old, slow love songs programmed into the sound system in the living room, just waiting for him to hit Play. “And then we’ll see what develops from there.” Hopefully, the evening would end with the three of them in bed, but he would never have been so blunt on a real first date, so he held his tongue now.

  “We seem to be an odd man out,” Jonathan observed, patting his mouth delicately with his napkin.

  “There’s an understatement,” Devon muttered under his breath.

  “You don’t think I can handle both of you?” Kit asked with a rakish grin. “I have two arms, one for each of you.”

  “Sounds delightful.” Jonathan’s smile skipped from Kit to Devon. “Dancing cheek to cheek to cheek.”

  “Kit leading, of course.” Devon couldn’t help but smile back at the image.

  “Of course,” Kit retorted, running his hand up their skirt-clad legs. “It is the man’s job to lead.”

  Devon was already on edge from Jonathan’s earlier teasing, and the press of Kit’s hand through the clinging silk sent a surge of sensual awareness straight to his groin, the lack of hair where he rubbed against the skirt adding another layer of arousal. “Lucky we have at least one left, then.”

  “Lucky you, lucky me,” Kit agreed. Seeing Jonathan’s glass was nearly empty, he poured some more of the ruby liquid into the wineglass. “Would you like some more too?” he asked Devon.

  “Plying me with drink?” Devon countered. “The other lasses warned me about you, you know. Said you only want one thing from a girl.”

  “Most girls don’t have what you’ve got.” Jonathan chuckled from the other side of the table.

  “Do I need to get you drunk to get you in bed?” Kit countered, ignoring Jonathan. His hand slunk higher up Devon’s leg, finding the slit in the skirt and taking advantage of it to find his lover’s newly shaved skin.

  “Ah fuck,” Devon groaned, biting his lip and fighting mightily to remember he was supposed to be a lady. “I mean, sir, you take liberties! And Jonathan assured me you were a gentleman!”