Page 26 of Rough Heat

Damon smiled. “Coming right up.”

As Josh headed to the bathroom, Leo got out of bed with Damon, feeling the relief of letting the subject slide.

His job was fine. He was fine.

Everything was fine.

***

Time passed much like that. Damon and Josh wove through his life as several heats passed, each somehow more intimate than the first. Damon seemed to derive genuine pleasure out of hand-feeding Leo, each occasion branding him deep in his muscles and bones. Leo, slumped against the headboard with Josh draped over him, passed out on Leo’s knot. And there Damon was, feeding him sticky pieces of orange and strawberry and pineapple and pear.

At night, when Leo was alone, he would sink into the phantom sensation of the tight pressure around his knot. Of Josh’s warm body, Damon’s gentle fingers, the way they would linger so Leo could lick them as he whined in pleasure. Could feel how Damon would dip to give him long, aching kisses, stroking his cheek and hair.

There were so many moments with Josh and Damon that were slipping under Leo’s skin, making him itch with the desire for more.

Leo would never be sidelined, now, even when it was Damon’s turn to knot Josh. There was a memorable occasion when Damon lay carefully on Josh, knees bent under him, and Leo took the opportunity to eat him out as slow and filthy as he wanted. The fucking noises Damon made, choking on them, thrusting deeper into Josh instinctively even though they were tied together. Josh had clutched at Damon, babbling incoherently as Damon trembled over him, practically writhing on Leo’s tongue.

Damon’s knot had lasted thirty-five minutes—a personal record, according to him.

Damon had gotten him back during the next heat, asking Leo lowly if he could finger him as he fucked Josh. The feeling of Damon’s thick, slick fingers inside him as his knot swelled in Josh, caught between the two of them and barely able to move, still haunted him. The pleasure had been everywhere—the way Damon unerringly rubbed again Leo’s prostate was obscene, scissoring his fingers on his way out, stretching Leo’s rim just to hear him gasp and moan, apparently.

As searingly hot as all that was, what really followed him home were the soft, tender moments. The times after the heat, when Josh would be bright-eyed and Damon permanently relieved at his level of energy. The way the bed would smell like them, Leo right there in the mix, making his head go fuzzy with want. How Josh would make him laugh easily, his cheeky grin getting fuller as time passed.

Josh would join Leo in the shower now, shampooing Leo’s hair and making it stick up in spikes as he giggled, kissing the stubble that would grow on Leo’s cheeks during the heat.

Leo would be buoyed by how healthy Josh was getting, the imprint of his ribs disappearing. He’d still lose his head during heat, but he had the strength to take more control, too, pinning Leo down and fucking himself exactly like he wanted. Leo would grab his hips loosely, letting Josh grind down, overwhelmed by the sight and feel of it.

And then, of course, there were the sessions between the heats, when the three of them would just hang out, going out somewhere before returning to the apartment to eat and cuddle.

They took Leo to a gallery where all the art was made out of bubble wrap, Damon pretending to be exasperated by Josh’s and Leo’s poor impulse control as they pretended to pop everything in sight.

The art was cool, though, sweeping structures of the painted material, like colourful, bubbly creatures flying through the air.

When the weather was nice, they sometimes went to the park. Damon would read as Josh and Leo played Frisbee, returning to him sweaty and intent on annoying him until he was flat on his back, laughing and trying to get away from their stinky insistence on cuddling up to him.

They even went to some weird play where they had to follow the actors from room to room, revealing the mystery slowly. Damon was the only one to yelp loudly when one of the characters burst out from behind a curtain, making Josh and Leo giggle uncontrollably for the next five minutes.

They didn’t let Damon forget it, either. At the couple’s apartment, Leo clutched at his arm, pulling him away from the window with a very distressed, “Careful, Damon! A curtain.”

Damon pretended not to be amused, but Leo knew his expressions now—how the corners of his lips would tremble downwards as he tried to keep the expression in place.

Before Leo knew it, more than three months had passed, and he kept catching himself thinking of them at inopportune moments, like in the middle of a session, or he’d smile dumbly when he was with his sister, which she caught straightaway.

Damon and Josh were taking over his life in the best way possible, a warm feeling inside him growing day by day.

And yet, even with all that, it still hurt like hell to have something without really having it.

SEVEN

Leowasjuststeppingout of the shower, muscles still sore from a long, exhausting day, when his work phone started ringing in the bedroom.

Leo groaned, seriously considering not even looking at the caller ID. He told his clients to text unless they had to cancel—he’d been roped into a free phone sex session one too many times to keep that option open—and it was like fucking midnight. There was no fucking reason for anybody to be calling him.

He froze with the towel draped on his head, realising the only people he hadn’t put that boundary up with were Josh and Damon.

He slid into his room, drying his hand quickly and picking up the phone with a breathless, “Hello?”

Josh’s voice came through clearly. “Leo? Hey, hi, shit, I’m so sorry to be calling so late.”

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