“I’d be flattered if I didn’t suspect that owes more to Jose Cuervo than to my personal charm,” Addison said. “You’re going to regret this tomorrow, Kit.”
Addison was probably right, Kit had to admit, but it didn’t seem to matter now. “So tell me how to stop,” he said, his voice slurred. “At least it doesn’t hurt as much right now.”
“Ah, youth.” Addison shook his head. “You make me feel positively ancient. Kit, trust me when I say I know this is difficult, but you’ll have opportunities to see them again. If Camelot isn’t nominated for several BAFTAs, I’ll turn in my membership card, and I suspect both Arthur and Lancelot will stand among the nominees. Niall will be sure to invite the principal cast to attend.”
Kit nodded. “Jonathan said he thought it would get the attention of the Emmys too, since it’s being broadcast in the US. It’s just so uncertain. Jonathan’s going to LA, Devon’s off to Prague or Budapest or somewhere in Eastern Europe, and I’m going to be stuck in London alone.”
“I predict you won’t be stuck in London for long,” Addison retorted. “If your agent is worth his or her salt, you have a stack of scripts waiting for you to choose from. Self-pity doesn’t become you, lad. Go find your partners and celebrate the time you have left.”
Kit rose to his feet unsteadily, looking around for Devon or Jonathan. He caught sight of them near the bar and started their direction before getting waylaid by the Orkneys, nearly as drunk and unsteady as he was. He tried to extricate himself from their clutches, but the four young actors seemed nearly as dejected by the end of filming as he was and insisted on dragging him with them onto the dance floor. The beat from the music was seductive, and Kit found himself giving in to it, losing himself in gyrating in time to the pulses of sound and the movements of Colm, Bevan, Warwick, and Rhodri around him. Suddenly hot, he pulled his T-shirt off and tucked it into his waistband.
“Bloody hell,” Devon cursed, his beer splashing the counter of the bar as he set it down. “The lad’s going to be the death of me.”
“But what a way to go,” Jonathan said, watching the gleam of light play on the trickles of sweat down Kit’s torso as he moved with sinuous grace to the driving beat. Finishing his own brew in one long swallow, he clapped Devon on the shoulder. “Take your vitamins and come join us,” he invited before wending his way through the press of bodies on the dance floor.
Kit barely registered the hands that settled on his hips until they drew him backward against a hard body. A hard cock. Eyes opening, he turned his head to see Jonathan behind him. Heedless of their audience—the cast all knew about them anyway, right?—he parted his lips, inviting a kiss as he ground back against Jonathan’s groin, determined to get his lover as worked up as he was.
Before Jonathan’s lips could close over his, a hand grasped Kit’s jaw and an equally hard body pressed against his chest. Devon pinched Kit’s lower lip, his hips moving in time to the music, brushing against Kit’s in a tantalizingly inconsistent rhythm.
Sandwiched between his lovers again, Kit felt the world tilt alarmingly for a moment before everything fell back into its proper place. He leaned back against Jonathan, his head resting on his shoulder as he pressed his hips forward, seeking Devon’s body as well. When the contact he sought remained elusive, he lowered his hands, grabbing Devon’s hips to pull him against his own.
“Easy,” Jonathan breathed into Kit’s ear. “Just because everyone here knows about us doesn’t mean we have to give them an exhibition.”
Kit whined in protest, but he subsided, letting Jonathan and Devon guide his movements. He had the fleeting thought that it apparently took being halfway to sloshed before he could truly let go and give in to his lovers.
Devon’s eyes moved between Kit’s and Jonathan’s as he let his body’s instinctive response to the music move him, storing away the sensory memories: the citrusy scent of Kit’s shampoo and the clean musk of his sweat; the warmth of heated skin as their movements brushed Jonathan’s or Kit’s arm against his; the thump of the bass in his chest and the echoing pulse speeding to match it; the colored lights waking the shine in Jonathan’s tawny hair as it mingled with Kit’s darker locks. He’d pull these memories out when he was alone in some anonymous hotel room in Prague to remind himself that this was all real.
Jonathan moved back just enough that the brush of his hips against Kit’s, his arm against Devon’s, could be rationalized as random touches. Not that he honestly thought they were fooling anyone. Certainly not Éamon and Glynn, who were on the dance floor too, watching them with rueful empathy in their eyes. Niall had rented the pub for the wrap party and closed it to all but the Camelot cast and crew, so they didn’t have to worry about photos showing up in the next day’s papers, but Jonathan had enough professionalism and respect for his coworkers to remember discretion. Barely—though if Kit kept rocking his ass against Jonathan’s thigh the way he was, Jonathan wasn’t sure how much longer that professionalism would last.
The alcohol, the music, the press of his lovers’ bodies, but most of all the knowledge that they would say goodbye to their friends tonight and to one another tomorrow combined to leave Kit suddenly desperate. “Please,” he whispered, not even sure he could articulate what he needed. His lovers had always known before. He only hoped they would understand now.
Devon glanced at Jonathan over Kit’s shoulder, recognizing the wordless agreement in the blue eyes. Taking Kit’s hand, he steered him off the dance floor and toward the restrooms, Jonathan wrapping an arm around Kit’s waist to steady him as they walked.
As soon as the bathroom door closed behind them, Jonathan set his back to it and pulled Kit into his arms. “I think you were asking for this earlier,” he murmured, his lips closing over Kit’s in a deep, claiming kiss.
Kit moaned into Jonathan’s mouth, giving himself over to the kiss, needing to be claimed. He reached blindly for Devon, wanting both his lovers touching him. He thought briefly about asking them to mark him, but they had already gotten their tattoos to demonstrate their commitment. Instead he pressed closer to Jonathan, as if he could climb inside his skin and never leave.
Devon closed his mouth on Kit’s neck as he reached between Kit and Jonathan—no easy task, that, given the way Kit seemed determined to fuse their very atoms together—to work at the buckle of Kit’s belt. He’d normally be more cautious about leaving a bruise where it could be seen, but they no longer had to worry about filming tomorrow, and Kit would have enough time for it to heal before starting his next role that for once Devon could forget the need to be circumspect. Closing his teeth over the muscle where neck met shoulder, he sucked with just the degree of pressure Kit loved while he inched down the zipper to free Kit’s heavy cock.
Feeling Devon opening his jeans, Kit arched his hips backward, pressing up against Devon instead to abet his disrobing. The pinch of teeth on his shoulder wrung a cry from him that even Jonathan’s tongue in his mouth couldn’t completely muffle. He was flying, high on alcohol and fear, and only his lovers’ hands kept him grounded.
Breaking the kiss when Kit’s cry into his mouth recalled his attention to what Devon was doing, Jonathan grinned. “You always have the best ideas, babe,” he acknowledged, sinking to his knees. He lapped up the pearl of fluid trembling at the slit of Kit’s cock. Moaning at the musky-sweet flavor, he grasped Kit’s hip, opening his mouth to slide over the silken head and envelop the shaft in moist heat.
Kit bit down on the heel of his hand to stop the scream that wanted to escape at the feeling of Jonathan’s mouth closing over his cock. He hated to muffle the sound, but he didn’t want their castmates coming to investigate and interrupting them. It wouldn’t take long for him to come, as worked up as he was, but even so, he wanted to savor it.
Devon watched the erotic tableau of Jonathan swallowing Kit’s cock for a few moments, thinking as he always did how perfectly their light and dark coloring complemented each other, until the need to join in grew insistent. He slid Kit�
��s slacks as far down his narrow hips as he could until they bumped into Jonathan’s hands.
Jonathan glanced up, grazing a palm over bare skin as Devon worked the slacks down Kit’s legs, letting them pool at his ankles. Jonathan wrapped his other hand around the base of Kit’s cock, gliding up the saliva-slicked skin as it slipped from his mouth. Ignoring Kit’s mewl of protest, he moved his lips over the delicate crinkled flesh of Kit’s balls, stirring them with his tongue, his free hand caressing Kit’s thigh as it drifted downward. Kit sighed and Jonathan’s mouth followed his hand’s descending path, pausing just before it reached the patch of dark ink adorning Kit’s inner thigh. “So beautiful,” Jonathan breathed, his words warming the skin before he closed his lips reverently over the stylized Grail.
Kit’s protest died when Jonathan’s lips brushed his new tattoo, still incredibly sensitive only a week after they’d gotten them done. “For you,” he said huskily. “Only for you and Devon. For everyone else, it’s just for show.”
The words made Devon swell with pride at the knowledge that only he and Jonathan would ever see Kit this way. Grateful that Kit had already removed his shirt, he ran a hand up the smooth chest to catch a tightened nipple with thumb and forefinger, rolling the sensitive bud between the pads. That wrung a groan from Kit and made Devon determined to win more of them. Kneeling, he traced his other forefinger down the crease between Kit’s cheeks, his tongue following a moment later.
“Please!” Kit babbled, hips bucking back against Devon’s mouth. The pinch and pull on his nipples felt wonderful, but nothing except Devon’s or Jonathan’s cock inside him felt as good as being rimmed. “Oh fuck, Devon, rim me, please!”
Well pleased to give Kit exactly what he was begging for, Devon curled his tongue and drove it past the ring of pink muscle, wetting the hot channel as far as he could reach. Kit cried out, his hand scrabbling for contact before clenching around a handful of Jonathan’s hair.
Pressing a final soft kiss to the inked chalice, Jonathan teased at Kit’s cock, lips tracing along the veined underside, then pushing back the foreskin as his tongue swirled around the exposed head. Kit’s fingers tightened as Jonathan bobbed his head, sliding the foreskin up and down as he went.
If he’d been sober, Kit might have been embarrassed by how quickly he came once Jonathan’s mouth returned to his cock, but he was drunk and desperate, and Jonathan was sucking him, Devon was rimming him, and someone—he had lost track of hands—was playing with his nipples. Three of his four favorite things. He had no hope of holding back and no desire to do so. “Coming,” he warned Jonathan, though he doubted Jonathan needed the notice.
If Kit hadn’t said a word, Devon would have known the instant Jonathan pushed him over the edge by the way the tight channel squeezed around his tongue. Consoling himself with the thought that he’d be able to feel that sensation on his cock before the night was over, Devon drove his tongue in and out in a foretaste of things to come, doing his best to prolong Kit’s climax.
As soon as Kit’s cock stopped twitching in his mouth, Jonathan pulled away, his hand cupping the softening shaft. Leaning to the side, he caught Devon’s head with his other hand, pulling him forward to share a kiss redolent with Kit’s tastes on both their tongues.
Looking down at the sudden cessation of sensation, Kit groaned as he watched Jonathan and Devon share a messy kiss. He slid to his knees, wrapping his arms around his lovers, joining them in the kiss as best he could. “Now what can I do for you?” he asked, keenly aware of how selfish he had been.
Jonathan shook his head. “That was for you, kitten.”
“You were going to explode if we didn’t do something to drain off that energy,” Devon added, pushing to his feet. “You can make it up to us later.”
Rising himself, Jonathan offered Kit a hand to help him stand. “We’ve got another day to spend together, but only a few more hours to spend with our friends.”
“Let’s go gather some more blackmail material on the Orkneys—they’re even more pissed than you were.” Devon adjusted himself discreetly before backing away enough to let Jonathan open the door.
Chapter 26: Forever Family
“STOP FIDGETING.” Devon tightened his arm around Jonathan’s chest, holding his lover firmly against his side. His other hand stroked through the tawny hair pillowed against his shoulder, the gentle touch offsetting the insistence of his voice. “It’s only been five minutes since the last time you looked at the clock. You’re getting as bad as Kit.”
“He should have been here by now.” Jonathan would have chided his son Josh for the pout he heard in his voice, but he was past caring. Kit was supposed to have joined them a day ago, returning to London at about the same time Jonathan had arrived from LA, but bad weather at the location where he was filming had delayed him while the director shot the final scenes. It had happened to Jonathan often enough in his own career, but being on the opposite side of the delay for a change didn’t make it any easier to take.
“You know he’ll get here as soon as he can.” Devon’s hand followed the curve of Jonathan’s cheek to his chin, turning his head for a kiss. “He’s missed you as much as I did.”
“At least you got to see him when he came to spend that weekend with you in Prague, and then you got to visit him in Budapest. I haven’t seen either of you since Camelot wrapped.” Jonathan shifted in Devon’s arms so he could reach the blond head and pull it back down to his. He had three months of missed kisses and empty beds to make up for, and while he and Devon had made the most of the past day and night, it wouldn’t be perfect until Kit was there to join them.
“And if you decide to accept one of the roles you’re here to read for, you’ll get to spend more time with both of us,” Devon pointed out. The inevitable separation when the miniseries ended hadn’t been any easier on him, but he and Kit had both been kept busy with new roles almost immediately, while Jonathan had headed back to the States to spend some time with his son. Devon and Kit had managed a few weekends together, but Jonathan hadn’t had anything but some admittedly incendiary phone sex to hold him over in the three months since.
The sound of the front door opening caught their attention. Before they could do more than sit up, Kit came barging into the bedroom, coat falling to the floor as he pulled his sweater over his head. “Starting without me again?” he teased, his brown eyes sparkling with happiness at being reunited with his lovers. “What have I told you about that?”
“You honestly expected me to keep my hands off him after three months until you could get your skinny arse here?” Devon grinned. “I’ve just taken the edge off him for you—he still has plenty left for both of us.”
“Hold that thought,” Jonathan told Devon, standing to pull Kit into his arms, then capture his lips in a long, slow kiss. Only when the damp chill from Kit’s clothes started to seep into his skin did he raise his head. “You’re freezing!” he exclaimed, reaching up to ruffle Kit’s wet curls.
“It’s fucking sleeting out there,” Kit said, leaning into Jonathan’s warmth for a moment before pulling back to finish undressing. Both his lovers were naked, and he wanted to join them. Yesterday. “Let me get rid of these wet clothes before I kill every lustful thought in your head. And Devon, I don’t care what you did while you were waiting for my skinny arse to get here as long as you’re planning on doing that arse now that it is here.”
“Sunshine, it’d take a sight more than a little sleet to cool either one of us down. I was about ready to tie Jon to the bed if you didn’t get here soon, he was that impatient.” Devon grinned, scooting over to make room for Kit.
“You should have,” Kit said, snuggling into the warm spot Jonathan had just vacated and reaching out to pull his other lover down behind him. “You know he likes it when you do.”
“Maybe later.” Jonathan slipped into bed beside Kit, cocooning around him. “Once I get enough of being able to hold you again—like in another three months or so.” His lips found Kit’s o
nce more, opening to the demand of Kit’s tongue before meeting it and delving deep into the warmth of Kit’s mouth in turn, drinking in the sweetness after three months of thirst.
Kit returned the kiss ardently even as he arched into Devon’s body, relishing the warmth against his chilled skin. He broke the kiss momentarily to gasp, “Nothing feels like this. Nothing compares to being here with the two of you, surrounded by you. Nothing.” He didn’t wait for them to answer, turning to kiss Devon as he had kissed Jonathan, needing to reconnect to both of them, to the reality of the three of them being together. A moment later, he felt Jonathan lean over him to join the kiss, and he groaned again. He was going to come just from kissing them if they weren’t careful.
Devon’s hands roamed Kit’s smooth skin, bumping into Jonathan performing a similar exploration. Since he’d been with Kit more recently than Jonathan had, he ceded the territory, scooting down on the mattress just enough to let his lips close around one of Kit’s nipples. The gasp of approval this won prompted him to bite down gently, well aware of just how much pressure to use.
Jonathan smiled into the kiss when his hands brushed Devon’s. He hadn’t been able to get enough of touching and kissing Devon’s fair skin when they’d fallen into bed together, and he was just as hungry for the touch and taste of Kit’s olive flesh. His mouth followed along Kit’s jaw to the curve of his neck, lingering over the rapid pulse in the hollow of his throat before moving lower, mirroring Devon’s nibbling attentions to Kit’s chest and the dark, stiff nub crowning it.
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