Page 13 of Marked Out with Greater Brightness

“You gave me this. Home.” He put his hand over Blake’s. “You both did.”

“We hoped you’d like it?” Ashley, thin face anxious, put a hand out as if to reinforce the question. “Was it…not a good idea?”

“The best. The two of you…” He stopped, laughed: full of amazement, love, brimming-over emotion. “Oh, the two of you. I love you.”

Blake’s whole face got brighter. Ash said, “I wish I could draw, but at least one of us can?” and stepped in closer, arm sliding around Cam’s waist. “We love you. Our Cam.”

“I am that.” He closed the sketchbook, with reverence. He wanted to kiss them, to worship them, to feel them so close there’d be no distance left; his skin wanted to sing. It was arousal, and it was more.

He set his sketchbook down carefully on the sofa. Behind the windows, the sun waltzed with the clouds: leaping, bounding, in and out. The room was warm with light. He felt each breath, each touch of sofa or book or fabric as if it were all new.

He thought, from the way they both gazed at him, that Blake and Ash felt something of that too: this newness, this transfiguration.

He said, voice rough, “You’re both…well enough? Not too tired?”

“Not at all.” Ashley practically bounced in place. “Have you got plans for us?”

“Not plans. I’d not made them. But…” But yes. So much yes. So much wanting, vivid as the sea in one of Blake’s sketches. “Orders, if you’d like. Bedroom, you two. Now.”

Now, and yes; they tumbled that way, tumultuous, swept by emotion. The faded bed-hangings fluttered with revived welcome. Sunlight stretched along the floorboards, the woven rug.

“Mine,” Cam said. His heart pounded. “Both of you.”

“Completely,” Blake said.

“Of course,” Ash said, and kissed him, with a little nip to Cam’s lower lip, a note: a flower of sensation.

“Good,” Cam said. “Not toys, not for this…but feeling it, yes…”

He did have some ideas, and he wanted them all to feel everything he was feeling, the surety and the vow of it; he took proprietary charge of them both, and got them bare and in bed, Ash lying back and propped up against pillows, Blake settled between those long slim thighs, having been instructed to pleasure Ash with his mouth, and to do it well.

Blake kissed Ash’s left thigh. His hair swung down along the line of his jaw. “I like that order.”

“So do I,” Ash said helpfully.

“‘Twas the plan, you liking it, you understand.” That made them both laugh, at least until Cam’s hand came down across Blake’s backside, a snap of sound and pinkness and presence. Blake whimpered, hips lifting shamelessly. “Not scolding you,” Cam said, “not yet, at any rate; but do as you’re told, give him pleasure, get his prick in your mouth as you kneel there, and show us how well you listen.”

Blake did a small wriggle of enjoyment at the command, the authority; and bent, taking Ash’s prick into his mouth.

Cam drank up the sight. Christ, that was good. Ash’s long hard length, reddened with need. Sliding between Blake’s plush parted lips, pushing in. Ash’s hand in Blake’s hair, taking charge. Blake’s own prick hung and bobbed between his thighs, not touching the bed, because Cam had told him not to: no friction, no relief. His tip was wet and shiny.

He ran a hand along Blake’s spine, the length of him. “I love you. Both. And I want to fuck you. Like this…” He pressed fingers into the cleft of Blake’s arse, not penetrating, but promising. “So that it’s all of us. So that, when I’m inside you, lad, you’re making Ash feel good; it’s us filling you up, using you as we like, between us.”

Blake’s whole body tensed, stirred, reacted; his prick dripped suddenly, a gleaming ribbon of need. Ashley breathed, “Yes, that,” and his hand shoved Blake’s head further down, holding him in place. “All of us.”

Cam did one more quick swat across Blake’s arse, just because he wanted to and they all liked that; and got up to find the oil he wanted, infused in a way that warmed and added sensation; he did not have much of this one left.

But he had the direction of the friend who’d made it. He could acquire more, before they left. That was a possible thing.

He was careful, because he needed to take care; but as swift as he could make it, and Blake did not mind a bit of roughness. Fingers, stretching. Muscles opening, unfurling. Cam’s hand and the oil. Blake moaned around Ashley’s prick, sounding drunk on sensation, the length in his mouth and the fingers in his hole. His body swayed, grew more malleable, pliant.

Cam made sure Ash was watching, as he lined himself up, pushed his prick deep inside Blake’s open body. Eyes meeting, holding. Alight with emotion.

They moved in unison, found rhythm, took Blake’s willing mouth and hole between them. Ash’s hand guided Blake’s head, taking over that as well. Blake moved with them, as they wanted him, completely theirs. His body was hot and needy around Cam’s cock; his mouth was wet, messy, well-used. His prick dripped continuously.

Ash whispered, “I need to—so close…” and thrust upward, burying himself deep in Blake’s throat. Blake’s hole clenched; Cam groaned. Ash panted, “So good…God, the way that looks, the way this feels…oh, I’m going to…” and kept Blake pinned in place, while his head tipped back and the release rippled through him.

Blake, held there, swallowed—Cam saw the movement of his throat—and swallowed again, and could not move because Ash did not let him up. Blake’s body jerked, arched: needing to breathe, needing to come.

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