Current mood:

contemplative

Title: Boys' Night In (part one)
Author: mirith
Group: Dom/Billy/Elijah
Rating: NC-17.
Summary: Elijah needs to lose control.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them; they own me. This is completely fictional, but there's a crispy five-dollar bill in it for them if they make it happen.
Potential squickage: bondage/domination
Feedback: “Please baby, please baby, please baby, baby baby please!” (Spike Lee, “She’s Gotta Have It”)
Written: 6/21/04 – 8/05/04
My sister in slash: Is snoopydance4me. She is also Prime Minister for Docking and Ice Cubes. Thank you so much for the brilliant ideas and corrections and support. Love you, girl.


Feet falling off by noon. Cinematic tears that would not come, though PJ did everything but whip him. Cate’s unshakeable patience as, dry-eyed, he blew the scene yet again. PJ dismissing the crew for the day. Real-life tears, the afternoon’s final testament to Murphy’s Law, falling lavishly as soon as he got to the trailer. Elijah has had a terrible day, and the night is not progressing any better.

“Fuck it. I mean, just fuck it. Fuck it all with a cement dildo.” Elijah is sitting on Billy’s bed in a hotel room, about a hundred miles from the set. They’ve driven here with Dom to try to get in some surfing the next day, their only day off this week. But now the weather reports are saying that the big waves promised for Saturday are bringing a hurricane with them, making surfing a suicide gesture.

So he will be trapped in the hotel with the two of them for almost 24 hours. Not that he doesn’t like them; he does. In fact, there are times when he likes them too much, and this weekend is shaping up to be one of them. Billy’s purring accent gave him three erections in the car today, and the sight of Dom’s pink tongue courting a bubblegum lollipop only exacerbated his increasing frustration. Elijah hasn’t had sex since he arrived in New Zealand, and his nineteen-year-old hormones are constantly on the verge of riot.

“You’ll feel better tomorrow,” soothes Billy, all honey and silk. The words reach Elijah’s ears as “Yeh’ll feel betturr tehmorrah.” Elijah instantly wants to hump the carpet, but is distracted by a clattering from the bathroom, as if somebody is knocking over toiletries.

“Sorry,” mumbles Elijah. “I didn’t know you had company.” He rises to leave, ready to spend a couple of hours with his left hand, but Billy pulls him back down. The strong grip sends prickles down the backs of Elijah’s slender, lightly muscled thighs.

Platonic, he reminds himself. The way Billy grabs me: platonic. The places Dom pinches me: platonic.

“Yeh cannae call it coomp’neh,” Billy snorts, his voice rising and falling in Scottish melody. Elijah shudders. Billy’s voice is soft as heather and persuasive as scotch, and when he says “you,” his lips purse tightly around the vowel like he’s kissing it. Elijah struggles to stop fixating on the accent.

“It’s him,” Billy continues. “Cleopatra of Manchester. Have you got your eyeliner together, then, mate?” The last line, louder than the others and directed toward towards the bathroom, comes out as a slurred tangle of dropped consonants and insinuating vowels. “Mate,” issuing from Billy’s mouth, always sounds like a verb.

Dom appears at the bathroom doorway, barefoot. He’s decked out in brown leather trousers and the dark wristbands in the same material. His hair looks as though he has spent the last week under a pile of erstwhile virgins, and he’s brandishing an unopened beer. Elijah shifts in his seat. Dom in brown is sex made chocolate.

“Told you, Boyd: shirt first, then eyeliner,” says the unwitting monarch. “Don’t want to smudge the eyeliner when you put the shirt on. These things take time.”

“They’d take less time,” suggests Billy, “if you’d put down the beer. Or if you could find your shirt.”

“Beer first,” amends Dom, “then shirt.” He sits down on the sprawling king bed and re-tousles Elijah’s already tousled hair.

Elijah looks Dom over. The trousers ride low on his hips, and they’re tight. Honestly, he must have gotten Wardrobe to sew him into them before they left. On the other side of Elijah, Billy is wearing what Elijah knows to be his only pair of clean jeans and a black shirt open halfway down the breastbone. Hardly the attire for a cozy evening in front of the Discovery Channel.

“You were going out,” accuses Elijah. “Both of you. Without me.”

“We were going to call you,” apologizes Billy.

“Right,” says Dom. “But first, I was going to get soused. Bills, pass us an opener, there’s a wank- … I mean, ‘love.’”

Billy rummages around in the nightstand drawer and produces one. He tosses it over Elijah’s lap to a grateful Dom.

“I don’t really feel like clubbing,” says Elijah. He feels a sulk coming on. “I think I’ll just go to bed.” Might as well; he couldn’t have trusted himself in a dark club with the two of them, the way he’s feeling now. Dom’s idea of dancing is to position himself behind Elijah and rub up against him like a dog in heat. Billy inevitably finesses him from the front, and the whole thing degenerates into a gyrating hobbit sandwich. Elijah frowns at Dom, but the recipient of the frown is too busy wrestling with the cap on top of the beer bottle to notice.

“Come with us,” Billy says. “I’ll buy you a drink with a wee parasol.”

“No, it’s OK.” Devouring the last remnants of an already-beseiged fingernail, Elijah watches Dom’s fruitless attempts to defeat the bottle cap.

“Well, we’re not leaving you here to rot,” says Billy. Elijah watches the pink tongue flirt with the vowels, caressing them.

“I said it’s OK. Really. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Or not, he thinks, picturing the headlines. Actor Drowns in Lake of Own Jizz. Exasperating Co-workers Indicted. He’s about to head for the door when Dom gives a shout of triumph. His bottle cap goes sailing through the air, coming to rest between Elijah’s thighs.

Time slows down, congeals. The three of them sit in silence, staring at the silver circle resting an inch from the American’s crotch.

Billy flashes Elijah a pointed smile. He fishes between nervous legs, brushing up against the insides as he does so. His hands are warm, and his fingers flicker against Elijah’s denim-clad skin, leaving fireflies of heat in their wake. Billy teases arousal from the younger man like a washed car teases rain from the sky. As the bottle cap is palmed, Elijah hopes that the other two haven’t noticed the sudden convexity in his jeans.

Billy and Dom exchange glances, and Elijah is aware that they are discussing something on a channel he doesn’t receive. Billy inspects the small disc – shiny, metallic, edged in teeth – then inspects Elijah. He hands the bottle cap back to Dom, but Dom, who is now openly staring at Elijah’s groin, fails to curl his fingers around it. It falls to the carpet.

“You know,” Billy says, “we could stay in. Really.” His voice is suddenly scratchy, as though he’s swallowed something a little larger than his throat.

Elijah stares at Billy, then Dom, then Billy again.

“We could stay in? What is this?” Elijah wants to know. Because if he didn’t know better, he would think Billy was making him an offer. Here. In the company of this leering, English satyr.

“Erhm,” says Billy.

“What?” repeats Elijah. Feeling scrutinized, he crosses his legs, only to find that things have progressed too far for this to be comfortable. He uncrosses them again.

Billy begins. “It’s just that…”

“You’ve been under a lot of stress lately,” Dom puts in. Grey eyes glint behind dirty-blond bangs.

“And you’re always so professional about it.”

“So in control.” Dom takes a swig of his hard-won beer.

“And we just thought it would be nice for you if…”

“You didn’t have to be in control…”

“All the time,” Billy explains.

“And we were going to take you out and ask you about it…”

“But we’ll have more options if we do it here.” Billy exhales. And with that, he puts his hands to Elijah’s chest and pushes him down on the bed. The dark-haired boy gasps with surprise as Billy climbs on top of him. Then he feels Billy’s tongue shimmer and slide against his own, and it’s all so smooth that he doesn’t even remember opening his mouth to let Billy in. Billy tastes like whiskey, and Elijah can almost feel the alcohol sweet-talking his bloodstream. He hears moaning, and realizes it’s not coming from the other two people in the room.

“So,” says Dom, as if something has just been negotiated. “How much do you want?”

Elijah looks at him, uncomprehending. For a moment, he thinks his friends are offering money to fuck him. This makes no sense. He could buy and sell them a hundred times and have cash left over for cigarettes.

“Control,” says Billy. For once, he is the translator, not the translatee. “How much control do you want?”

What Elijah means to say next is “Billy, no.” What they’re proposing is, after all, madness. They have to see each other on set for the next year, and then there will be PR and premieres and press, and they can’t afford to have their working relationship disrupted by some kind of hormone-laden hotel pig pile. But Billy’s knee is insinuating itself between Elijah’s thighs now, and Billy’s tongue is rimming the shell of his ear, and Elijah hears himself groan out the first word, but not the second.

Spurred on by Elijah’s cries, Billy settles himself on what would be the younger man’s lap, were he not laid out like a picnic. He licks his own thumb and forefinger. Through half-lidded eyes, Elijah watches the saliva-slicked hand disappear under his black T-shirt, then sucks in his breath as Billy’s wet digits pleasure one of his nipples. Deft fingers stroke the sensitive flesh, coaxing it to hardness, and Elijah’s hips twitch and sing.

Billy smiles down at him, then glances over his shoulder at Dominic.

“Jesus,” mutters Dom. He chews his bottom lip.

“Put him down,” Billy observes, “for ‘not fucking much.’”

“What are you going to do to me?” breathes the boy, although he doesn’t care what so much as when. As Billy continues to work his nipple, Elijah feels Dom stripping him of one of his shoes, then the other. It’s a sweet gesture, almost parental, until Elijah feels an insistent tugging at his fly. Disappearing shoes are followed by disappearing jeans.

“Black boxers,” comments Billy. “Silk?” He runs a questioning hand over Elijah’s crotch, as the younger man writhes and gasps.

Elijah does not know what he’s saying now, although certain proper nouns catch his ear, “Billy” and “Christ” and “Dom” chief among them. Billy is working his tongue into the hollow above Elijah’s clavicle, and if Billy’s tongue is like this – warm, slippery, talented muscle – then what must Billy’s cock be like? Dom, meanwhile, has shoved Billy’s hand away and, without any invitation, he’s grasping Elijah through the silk. They’ve only just started, and Elijah is horrified to realize how frantic he is to get fucked.

Fucking. Elijah wonders if it will hurt. He’s had girlfriends, but none of them were packing, and Dom and Billy obviously are. Billy interrupts Elijah’s train of thought by rolling off him to fumble with something on the night table. Elijah can’t see what he’s getting, because Dom has taken the opportunity to mount the reclining man, blocking his view. Until Billy gets back, the feel of Dom’s arousal making demands through two layers of cloth erases everything else from Elijah’s addled mind.

“Take off your shirt,” says the truant, and his voice is soft and mild. He’s holding a sweating hotel glass of whiskey with a couple of ice cubes in it. It’s at least a triple shot.

Elijah wriggles under Dom, who has just bitten his neck, hard. The biting doesn’t frighten him, but something about Billy’s quiet manner makes a tendril of apprehension snake down the back of his spine. He shivers between fear and desire.

“Do you see this weight on top of me? How in the hell am I supposed to move my arms? And anyway, shouldn’t we talk about this?”

“No,” replies Billy. “Dom, get his shirt.”

Elijah struggles, but his t-shirt poses no more challenge to Dom than his jeans did. “Why stop there?” the blond demands. Possessive fingers hook the waistband of Elijah’s boxers.

“No,” says Elijah, half-panicked. He pries Dom’s hands off him. “Not yet. I’m not ready for this.”

“I am,” growls Dom, but Billy shoots him a look of warning. The Scotsman leans back against the pillows, his legs apart. “C’mere, Lij,” he says. One of his hands holds the whiskey, while the other invitingly pats the space between his spread limbs. “Lie back against me.”

Elijah regards Dom with a wary eye and keeps one hand on the silken waistband. His mind knows that things are moving too fast, but his body has other ideas. He totters over to Billy on his knees, then nestles his ass against Billy’s crotch. The intervening layers of fabric do nothing to blunt the sensation of Billy’s arousal pressing against him, and he swallows hard.

Dom mounts Elijah again, pinning his legs. He forces the captive’s hands to the pillows and begins to ride him. The sensation of the other man’s cock rubbing against his own
sets Elijah off, and a tremor ripples through his skin.

“Fuck sake,” moans Dom, digging his fingers into offered wrists. “He wants it so much, he’s shaking. God, Bill, no foreplay. If I don’t get inside him now...”

Billy is in no hurry. “Pop then, you randy bastard. More cherry left for me.” Elijah is about to protest this characterization when Billy cups and lifts his chin. “Tilt your head, sweetheart.”

Elijah is feeling stubborn, but the glass of whiskey is against his lips, and he lets his head fall back against Billy’s shoulder so that he can take it in without choking. The Scotsman pours at least two shots down him before letting up.

“Good, yeah?” Billy strokes Elijah’s throat, triggering his swallowing reflex. Elijah has used this technique to get pills down the family cat, and he repents it now. The alcohol burns, and he knows from experience that he hasn’t enough body mass or practice to keep it from dissolving what’s left of his inhibitions. His regret is cut short, however, by the cold sting at the hollow of his throat. Using an ice cube as a paintbrush, Billy has just dabbed whiskey there.

“Dominic,” says Billy, “Fancy a bit? I wouldn’t want you to go without.” He hooks his arms under Elijah’s armpits, holding him taut and ready for the other man.

“Fuck, yeah.” Dom grabs Elijah’s slim waist and straddles him. His leather-bound cock is hot against the younger man’s belly, and Elijah cries out as Dom accepts the proposal. The chill of the whiskey gives way to the fire of Dom’s tongue, and Elijah can do little but lie back between the two men and let Dom strip the whiskey from him; let him suck and bite and take what Billy has offered. Breathing hard, he wonders what Billy will offer next.

Billy takes a sip from the whiskey glass. From the corner of his eye, Elijah can see that he’s retrieved another ice cube and is holding it between his teeth.

“What the…” Elijah starts to ask, but Dom is already kissing Billy, without first dismounting from Elijah. Dom’s preferred technique seems to be to hold Billy’s chin steady in one hand, then go after his tongue as if he means to swallow it. Billy whimpers, Dom grunts, and when they’re done, Dom’s incisors cradle the ice cube. He flashes Elijah a look of conquest, and the younger man’s arousal bucks and thrusts against its silken cage.

A moan and a prayer stumble from Elijah’s lips. Dom’s lips are guiding the ice cube over his body now, starting at the throat and working their way down to the panting chest. Ivory skin prickles with anticipation as Dom strays to the right.

“You’re not … tell me you aren’t,” gasps the boy, but Dom most certainly is. Elijah flinches and cries out as the other man tends to his nipple. Dom torments him with the small cube, then hides it under his tongue. Elijah lets his head loll back against Billy’s shoulder as the sting of the ice is followed by the sweltering pleasure of the Englishman’s mouth. Then the cycle repeats.

“Please,” begs Elijah. He feels Billy stiffening against the small of his back, and he hears his breath catch. Dom smiles at Elijah, then chews. He paints the beleaguered nipple with ice fragments, then coats the surrounding area with more of the melting shards. Starting at the icy perimeter, he teases them off with his tongue, working his way towards the peak of rosy flesh.

Elijah watches as Dom takes a few of the remaining ice chips into his mouth. Dom looks the younger man in the eye, licks his lips, and swallows.

“Pretty little thing,” says Dom. “I might have to get my tongue pierced for you.” Elijah is thinking about what cold metal would feel like against his sensitive skin when Dom’s mouth envelops that skin with warmth and slickness. Elijah moans and twitches, letting Dom suckle at him. His nipple is stiff, pink, and defenseless against Dom’s assault: a willing stand-in for this afternoon’s lollipop.

“We’ve more whiskey,” reminds Billy, when Dom shows no sign of stopping “And more Yankee jailbait, at that.”

Elijah is about to protest that he is not jailbait; he’s nineteen, for Christ’s sake, and his nipples and legs and cock are perfectly legal, so if the two of them want to …

“Unnghh,” Elijah points out, all eloquence a memory. Whispering Scottish bawdry into his ear, Billy has just painted an icy line of single malt from his chest to his navel. The cold loosens Elijah’s hips, and when they buck, the center of his desire presses hard against Dom’s stomach.

Smirking, Dom pins Elijah’s twitching pelvis to the mattress. “Hard, aren’t you? Bills, I owe you that bottle of Jameson. He’s not remotely straight.”

Elijah remembers being straight, but the thought vanishes like sticky alcohol lapped up by a questing tongue. Blue eyes roll back in a pale face as the youngest of the three adds being-held-down-by-two-slightly-larger-men to his list of fetishes. The list continues to grow as Dom tongue-fucks his navel, eating him out. Elijah gasps, his cock shuddering in appreciation.

The teenager is not usually slow to arouse, but this is ridiculous. He feels hopelessly easy, ready to let both men touch him anywhere. He wonders which of his body parts they could lick the longest without bringing him to orgasm. He settles for “fingernails,” because he’s already swallowed most of them.

“Get up,” says Billy, when Dom has licked Elijah clean. He seems to be addressing both of them.

Dom gets off Elijah and sits, facing the two of them, on the bed. Elijah lurches into a kneeling position, his depth perception a little off. Dom’s tongue has not been kind to his basic mental functions.

“Are you going to put whiskey anywhere else?” Elijah asks. His body alternately stings and tingles where the alcohol was, and his cock also thrums with sensation, though it has received no such attention.

Still dressed, Billy scans Elijah from head to knees. His jade eyes linger on Elijah’s cock, which is straining against the black silk. “No,” he decides. At some point in their relationship, Elijah would have been relieved, but now he wants more of Dom’s mouth, more of Billy’s voice, more of everything.

“C’mon,” says Dom. “Put more on him. It’ll lower my inhibitions.”

“You don’t have any,” Billy points out. “I’m not putting any more on him; he wants it too much. Now give me your belt.”

“Billy, what the fuck?” Still on his knees, Elijah backs unsteadily away. “No way. You’re not doing this, man. I’m not letting you whip me.”

Never taking his eyes off Elijah, Dom removes his leather belt and hands it Billy. Billy lifts it, admiring its suppleness and heft.

“Shit, no,” says Elijah. He leaps off the bed and continues to back away. “Christ, Bill. I have to have my shirt off for Cirith Ungol. Peter will fucking kill you.”

Billy’s smile is predatory and patient as he stalks Elijah, belt in hand. Dom follows. Elijah is no match for either of them, physically, and a brief scuffle ends with him face down and panting against the polyester carpet. Dom sits heavily on his legs while Billy, always the man for detail work, secures his arms behind his back.

“If you remember,” says Billy, leaning closer to Elijah’s ear, “you need whip marks for that scene. I’d be doing Makeup a favor.”

“You’re not touching me.” Elijah’s voice is muted by gritted teeth and carpet. The situation is humiliating, not least because he’s rock hard and wants nothing more than for the two of them to take turns using him on the bedroom floor.

“Sweet Jesus,” moans Dom, as Elijah thrashes and kicks. “He’s even prettier when he struggles. Please, Bill, enough wind-up.”

But Billy is ignoring him. He binds the younger man’s wrists together with the leather strap, then cinches it tight. “Relax,” he tells Elijah. “You’re plenty erotic without a beating. Now let us prop you up against the bed while you get your wish.” The two of them wrestle him into a sitting position and push him up against the mattress.

“What wish is that?” Elijah has already had so many tonight that he has no idea what Billy is talking about.

“For us not to touch you,” says Billy. He smiles, and the smile is like Dom’s bottle cap, made of shine and teeth. “Although you’re welcome to watch.” On his knees, he advances towards Dom, who is sprawled on the floor nearby.

“Cheeky bugger,” says Dom, leaning back on his elbows. “What makes you think I’ll let you have a go?” He slides his hands under his ass, lifting his chocolate hips. His cock is trying to fight its way out of its leather prison. He’s flaunting his body in Billy’s direction, but he’s eyeing the barely clad American.

As Billy reaches Dom, his body language changes. His right hand fidgets, as though lost without a cigarette, and he rocks back and forth on his heels.

“Dom,” says Billy. The vowel is flat.

“Fucking hell,” says Dom.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” says Billy. His voice sounds younger, and his accent is straight out of a cornfield in Iowa. He chews a fingernail, all shyness and self-doubt.

“Billy,” begs Dom, “don’t do this to me. Not in front of him.”

Billy is undeterred. “I have … feelings for you,” he murmurs, sounding every bit the inexperienced piece of Yankee ass. He touches Dom lightly on the knee.

“Gah,” says Dom, well on his way to incoherence. He whips his leg out from under Billy’s hand as if he’s been touched by flame, but this position leaves him even more vulnerable, because now his legs are spread apart. Billy moves his hand to the inside of Dom’s thigh, stroking and caressing.

Billy nuzzles the man’s ear. “Don’t you want me, Dommie?” He coaxes one of Dom’s hands into his own, then rubs it against his chest. Dom quivers, and Elijah suspects that he has just made contact with a hardening nipple.

Dom is visibly shaken. “Bills, you don’t have to do this. Really. Let’s play something else.” But Billy remains in character.

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. The way you look at me sometimes, I thought…” Billy guides Dom’s hand into the half-unbuttoned shirt, drags it over the skin there. He bites his lip.

“Do you care about me?” Billy wants to know. Every consonant is intact. Elijah takes a moment from lusting after the two men to admire the authenticity of the Midwestern accent.

“You know I do,” says Dom. Although the Englishman is looking straight at Billy, Elijah has no idea which one of them he’s addressing. Perhaps it’s both.

“Then why can’t you let me make you feel good?” Billy kisses his way down the side of Dom’s neck. “I want you, Dommie. I know I could give you pleasure.” He moves his hand to Dom’s crotch. Shyly, he begins to stroke his friend through the leather.

Dom catches Billy’s wrist, stilling him. “I can’t do this. I can’t let you make me come like this. Not here. Not now.” But his voice is unconvincing, and his hips follow Billy’s hand.

“Then maybe I could make you come some other way,” Billy suggests, intentionally oblivious to the other man’s meaning. He moves Dom’s hand to the back of his jeans. A practiced blush spreads over his face as he looks away from Dom.

“I’ll do anything you want,” Billy murmurs, moving the hand lower.

“What I want is for you not to be such a bloody good actor,” mumbles Dom. He is blushing too, in a distinctly unrehearsed way.

“Is that what you want, Dommie? Is that why you’re so stiff for me?” Billy meets his playmate’s eyes. “I know you, and I know what you’re going to do to me.” He lets this sink in, then delivers the coup de grace.

“When it happens, be gentle. I’ve never been with a man before.”

Dom has been hanging by a thread since this game started, and Elijah watches, transfixed, as that thread snaps. With an inarticulate yell, Dom shoves Billy to the floor. Billy tries to fight him off, but Dom has more muscle mass, and he’s been teased to the brink. A bit of writhing, a bit of kicking, and then Billy is on his back with Dom’s knees wedged in his armpits and Dom’s crotch inches from his mouth. Normally, Billy fights with his arms, but now his small wrists are pinned to the carpet by Dom’s right fist, the fist Dom has put all his weight on. They twist and shudder helplessly against the polyester as Dom unzips himself with his one free hand.

“Fuck,” breathes Elijah. Dom’s complete capitulation to Billy’s faux Elijah routine makes the prototype feel dirty and hot. He wonders how many times Billy has choked down clove-flavored smoke to get Dom to fuck him up against a wall.

Billy’s fantasy-Elijah may never have been with a man, but he is with one now. Dom has freed his erection from its leather confines, and he is rubbing the thick, rosy head against Billy’s lips, trying to push his way in. Billy groans, but keeps his mouth closed. Elijah aches to touch himself, and his tied hands quiver with frustration.

“Fine,” grits Dom. “You want to be my Yankee rent boy? Start by sucking my cock.”

Billy shakes his head, but Elijah can see him throbbing against the denim. None of Billy’s professional acting skills are resident in his groin.

“You’ll suck it,” grits Dom, “Or I’ll strip you naked, tie you up with your own belt, and leave you in the hallway as a tip for room service.”

Billy’s lips part in a gasp, and it’s all the invitation Dom needs. Groaning, he forces himself into the other man’s mouth. Billy closes his eyes in ecstasy as Dom thrusts in and out of his avid mouth.

Elijah can only imagine how Dom feels as that wicked, knowing tongue caresses his nerve endings. They’ve only just started, but Dom seems close to the edge. His breathing is labored, and his eyes are glazed over with lust – lust for Billy, fantasy-Elijah, real Elijah, or some combination of the three. A bead of sweat rolls down his chest and over his hard, muscular stomach. Abruptly, he pulls out of Billy’s mouth. The head of his cock is shining with pre-come and Billy’s spit.

“Have to rest,” he pants.

“Have to come,” coaxes Billy. He moves as if to take Dom back in but the younger man twists his hips, moving just out of Billy’s reach.

Elijah moans and wobbles forward on his knees. Want reels him in, pulls him closer to the two male bodies. He’s never seen an uncut cock up close before, and he’s fascinated. The way that the head protrudes from the folds of skin excites him. It adds an extra level of exposure to Dom’s nakedness, to his maleness.

“Can’t let you have all the fun, Bills.” Dom looks Elijah over, lets his eyes wander from Elijah’s face to his chest to the center of his lusting body. He rises to his feet, then wrestles his cock back into his trousers, buttoning them closed. Elijah is baffled.

Billy studies the American. “Do you think he wants to?” The vowels are soft, insinuating, and purely Glaswegian. Billy’s ready to let Elijah be Elijah now.

“I want to,” says Dom, and that’s all that matters. He stands in front of Elijah, and the younger man’s world narrows down to a square foot of taut leather.

Dom licks one of his fingers, then runs it over Elijah’s lower lip, grazing the delicate skin. Elijah almost leans into it, then decides to play hard to get. He holds still, not giving Dom the satisfaction of a response.

Dom gives him a hard smile. “Aren’t you the little ice princess? Billy, stand him up.” Before Elijah can react, Billy tugs on his arms from behind, forcing him to his feet. Then Billy’s hands are on his hips, steadying and confining him.

Dom licks two fingers, then rolls one of Elijah’s nipples between them. It stiffens under the rough caress, but Elijah doesn’t make a sound.

“I bet you can’t get him to open his mouth,” says Bill. His breath is hot on the back of Elijah’s neck.

“I’ll bet I can get him to open anything,” counters Dom. “Can’t I, your majesty?” He presses his groin against the younger man’s silk-sheathed arousal. Elijah remains motionless as the pleasure rides him.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” purrs Dom. “Christ, Bill, you should see his face. His pupils are so fucking dilated, I can’t remember what color his eyes are. Lijah, baby, spread your legs for me.”

Willfully disobedient, Elijah doesn’t move.

“You’ll spread them,” Dom promises, “or I’ll spread them for you.”

Chin high, Elijah looks directly at Dom, wills Dom to live up to his name. And Dom must understand, because he presses his entire body hard against the captive and pries his legs apart with one knee, then fondles him through the silk. Elijah groans, excited by the contact and by the other man’s force.

“Pretty little slut,” says Dom. “I could jack you off right here.”

“I’m winning this bet,” Billy points out, but Dom is not finished. He licks his finger one more time, then moves his hand toward the small of Elijah’s back. Billy moves backward to give him room.

“Oh, God,” says Elijah, because Dom’s hand is inside his boxers now, and his slick finger is exploring the crease there.

“Bet’s over,” Dom teases. “I can stop.” But Elijah is writhing and pleading, and Dom works his finger downward, and Elijah wishes it were some other, thicker part of Dom’s anatomy, because it’s pushing against the entrance to his body, and now it’s inside him, and his muscles yield to the invasion. Then Dom brushes against a spot that makes the boy’s knees buckle. Constellations teeter behind Elijah’s closed eyes.

“Fuck,” Elijah begs. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The gravity in this hotel room is strong.

“I don’t think I can hold him up,” reports Billy. Already half-way to the floor, Elijah moans with frustration as Dom withdraws his hand.

“’S all right,” says Dom. “I like him better on his knees anyway. Kneel, baby.”

Elijah collapses to the carpet, willing to do anything now. Again, Dom’s leather crotch fills his vision.

Dom runs his fingers through Elijah’s chestnut hair. “Hot little Yankee. Show us what that soft, pink mouth is for.” He rubs his groin against Elijah’s face, and Elijah leans into it this time, nuzzling and licking the leather.

“Jesus, Bills, look at this. He’s got a kink.” Dom braces the back of Elijah’s head with his hands and half-smothers the younger man with his thrusting pelvis. Billy murmurs his appreciation as Elijah moans, breathing in the scent of the cowhide. It’s dark and masculine, and it assaults his nostrils with sex. Dom fumbles with his belt buckle.

“Let me,” says Elijah, breathing hard.

“And how,” Billy wants to know, “are you going to get his belt off, all trussed up like a Christmas goose?”

Elijah says nothing, just presses his lips to the buckle.

“Fuck me,” says Dom, in a tone of wonderment. Elijah works at the central spoke of the buckle with his nimble tongue, nipping and pulling. He gets it open, then pulls the belt out of the loops with his teeth. Billy softly applauds.

“That alone was worth the price of admission. You’d best lie down, Dommie. You’ll not last two minutes standing up.”

Although normally argumentative, Dom lies down on the bed. Billy makes himself comfortable at Dom’s side, then begins to unbutton him. Elijah rises unsteadily to his feet, then lurches over to the bed. Trembling with want, he kneels between Dom’s thighs.

Somehow, Dom has willed his rampant erection to half-mast, and Elijah realizes the Brit wants him to work for it. He wonders whether he’ll be able to get his mouth around him, bound as he as, without toppling over. Sizing up the situation, Billy grasps the middle of the shaft and offers the head to Elijah. It makes Elijah dizzy to see him taking Dom’s cock in hand as naturally as if it were his own.

“Fuck sake,” groans Dom, who has propped himself up on his elbows just long enough to take in the sight of one man furnishing another with access to so many of his favorite nerve endings. He falls back onto the bed, worrying his lip with his teeth.

The only prick that the supple young man has ever had in his mouth is his own, and mindful of chiropractor’s bills, he’s only done that once or twice. Unsure of how to start on another male, he rubs his cheek against the tender skin on the underside of the shaft. Dom bucks and shifts.

“Be careful with those cheekbones,” he orders. “You could cut butter with them.” But the catch in his voice testifies to pleasure, not pain.

Elijah moves his head closer. The scent of sex is overwhelming. He takes Dom between his lips, then – gently, gingerly – insinuates the tip of his tongue between the glans and the loose skin that surrounds it. The object of his attentions moans, and his hips give a jerky, involuntary twitch.

“Sweet Jesus,” manages Dom. A second later, the tip of Elijah’s tongue is forced out of position as Dom becomes too stiff to accommodate him.

Elijah brings his mouth closer to the point where the straining flesh departs the trousers and breathes on it. He aches to lick Dom’s balls, but these are still encased in the chocolate trousers, and the trussed boy is in no position to remove them. He contents himself with nuzzling them through the leather while Billy adjusts his hand position. His deft fingers move to circle the base of the shaft. Dom is so hard now that no other support is needed.

“You want to suck him, don’t you?” Billy asks. “It’s all right.”

The responding voice is so low and hoarse that Elijah barely recognizes it as Dom’s. “Shit, yes, he wants to want to suck me! He’ll take it down his throat and love it. Won’t you, baby?” The words are uttered playfully, but Dom is twitching with unsated lust, and Elijah can tell that he is long past the point of playful. He shivers and holds back a nod.

Billy places his free hand at the back of Elijah’s neck, but the young man doesn’t need the hint. Just the thought of going down on this uncut leather god is making his own cock leak with desire. He wants this desperately; wants to milk the pleasure from the other man’s body; wants Dom to scream, to pulse, to forget his own name and remember only Elijah’s. He bends down and takes Dom into his mouth, lapping and sucking at the salty head. He wonders if he’s doing it right, and lifts his eyes to Dom’s to check. Dom’s eyes tell him the truth: that he is water, and Dom is a man on fire.

“That’s it,” Dom manages. “Suck it, love. Suck it right, and I’ll let you swallow.” He places his hands on the sides of Elijah’s head, holding it steady. If anyone but Dom or Billy did this to him, Elijah would bite down, but as it is, he’s in heaven.

“Please, yes,” murmurs Elijah, despite himself. Spurred on by Dom’s words and hands, Elijah takes more of Dom in. He swallows almost enough to hit Billy’s hand, then pulls up, letting his tongue vibrate against the notch where the head meets the shaft. At the touch of Elijah’s tongue, all the stiffness drains from Dom’s previously taut muscles and pools in his cock. It was hard before, but now it’s so rigid, it’s jerking.

“Jesus,” moans Dom. “You feel so good, Lij, so fucking good. Give me your tongue, baby. Harder… harder … yeah, FUCK, yeah.” A single bead of fluid leaks from his slit, and Elijah runs it over his tongue. It tastes of lust and sex and the beautiful man thrusting into him, and Elijah moans with the pleasure of it.

“Enjoying it, then?” Billy asks.

Dom whimpers. “You have no idea. His mouth is so tight. God, he’s wet … he’s got me so hard … ungh … so fucking hard…”

“I can see that,” says Billy. “Try not to impregnate his tonsils.”

Billy thinks he’s going to come inside me. Come: Elijah likes the word, and the idea of Dom performing that particular action deep inside his throat has him humping the mattress. Without warning, Dom’s hips take flight, and Elijah finds himself taking in more flesh than he knew he could. He stifles prayers to carnal gods as Dom pushes towards the back of his throat. Elijah shudders once, then swallows, his muscles clenching around the sensitive head.

“Do it, baby,” begs Dom. “Suck it like you need it.”

The impromptu lesson in deep-throating has all three men rigid with want, and the room smells increasingly like sex. Dom is so hard that his cock is running almost parallel to his body, and to compensate, Elijah has to bend over so far over that his head is almost upside down. He feels faint, but the dizziness is pleasant, brought on as much by desire and the wicked scent of Dom’s body as by head position. The recipient of the attention keens and thrusts, and Elijah lets himself be taken.

“Jesus God, yeah. Let me feel that hot mouth.” Dom’s hips shudder and grind.

Billy withdraws his hand from the other man’s shaft and leaves Elijah to it. Elijah is dimly aware of Billy moving up the bed, closer to Dom’s head. Dom’s cries are stifled now, as if Billy’s mouth were in the way.

Seven inches of needy flesh press against Elijah’s tongue, rendering it almost immobile. There’s no longer any room for fancy tongue work: He can do nothing but suck as Dom plunges into him, withdraws, and plunges into him again.

“That’s right,” murmurs Billy. “Let him do you.”

Elijah moans deep in his throat. He closes his eyes and lets Dom fuck him this way, makes his mouth sweet and wet and tight for him. Dom is bucking into him full force, and Elijah knows it won’t be long now. He lets the pleasure build and crest until the other man screams his name. Then Dom shudders and pulses and comes, and Elijah’s throat is flooded with the aftermath of his pleasure.

Elijah drinks his lover down, gently cleans him with his tongue, then topples over on top of him, arms still bound. Dom pushes him over on his side, then takes Elijah’s mouth in a long, hard kiss. It excites Elijah to think of Dom receiving his own taste from another man’s lips, and his cock throbs against the silk.

“He’s good, Bills,” says Dom, once he’s recovered the power of speech. “He’s very good. Why don’t you have a turn with him?” Orgasm makes him generous.

Billy quirks an eyebrow. “Why don’t you get him ready for me?”

“Fine,” says Dom. He goes to the desk in the far corner of the room and retrieves a beer from the six-pack there.

“That’s not what I meant,” says Billy.

“I know,” says Dom. “But it’ll be easier on him if he’s drunk.”

“Do not get him any drunker. You know how he gets.”

“No,” says Elijah, feeling defensive. “How do I get?”

Billy sighs. “You want porn. Then you ask for chocolate. Then you black out.”

“That only happened one time,” the boy protests.

“It happens every time, Elijah. You black out, Dom turns you on your side, I check your breathing, then Mr. Monaghan here wanks himself raw whilst staring at your arse. So if he comes at you with that beer bottle, don’t open your mouth. I want you awake for this.”

“I wouldn’t have to give it to him by mouth,” the blond points out. But he drops the beer, leaving his arms free to toss Elijah, still bound, over his shoulder.

“Hey,” says the abductee, kicking. He knows by now that Dom likes his prey to move.

“You talk too much,” says Dom. “Billy, my shirt’s under the bed. Get it for me.” He deposits Elijah on the floor. If Elijah had the use of his arms, he’d be on fours now, but as it is, his shoulders and one side of his face are in the carpet, and his ass is airborne. He considers protesting, but the sight of the two men staring at him like he is portable sex stops the words in his throat. Dom is ogling his ass, and Billy is clearly burning his image, bound and half-naked and aroused, onto the back of his retinas.

“Fucking perverts,” grumbles Elijah, even as his balls tighten that much closer to his body.

Unfazed, Billy tosses Dom his shirt. It’s black, and says “Princess” in rhinestones. Billy got it for Dom some months back, in celebration of the Cleopatra of Manchester look. The owner has apparently been getting some use out of it, because it smells of Dom’s body – musky and dark. Ellijah is becoming very familiar with that scent, because the shirt has just been wadded up and tied around his mouth as a gag.

“Merciful Jesus, don’t smother him,” says Billy, leaning over to peer into Elijah’s face. “I’m not a necrophiliac.” But Elijah can still breathe. In fact, he’s breathing hard, trying to extract every bit of Dom’s scent from the shirt.

Dom is behind him now. Once again, Elijah feels pressure on the waistband of his boxers. He freezes, then thrashes, dislodging Dom’s hands.

“Don’t play coy with me, your majesty.” Dom seizes him by the hips.

Billy has been watching Elijah for a while now. “He’s not playing.”

“For Christ’s sake, he can weep one tear out of his left eye on command. All right, maybe not today, but last week, it was no problem. How do you know he’s not playing?”

“He’s shy. Doesn’t want you to strip him. Right, sweetheart?”

Elijah nods.

“He just swallowed me whole,” sputters Dom. “My sperm is fertilizing his gallbladder. Why would he pick now to get shy?’

Billy examines his own fingernails. “That thing with his testicles.”

“What thing with his testicles?” wonders Dom. “Has he not washed them this week? Because I can work with that.”

“No, he’s gotten it into his head that one’s a bit bigger than the other. He’s made an appointment with the doctor to get it checked out.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“Shake your head if I’m wrong, Elijah.” The younger man holds still.

“Are you telling me that he’s so fucking inexperienced that he doesn’t know that it’s normal for the left ball to hang lower than the other?”

“Thought had crossed my mind,” says Billy. “He was home-schooled. It’s not like he’s ever spent time in a locker room.”

Elijah is blushing furiously now, and he’s so distracted that he hardly notices that Dom is pushing up the left leg of his shorts. In fact, he hardly notices anything until Dom’s wet tongue probes the topic of conversation. The gag muffles Elijah’s cries as the pleasure ripples from his balls to his cock to his virgin ass.

“He tastes normal,” pants Dom, after doling out a parting lick. “Elijah, love, let me get your kit off.” Hands are pulling roughly at the boy’s hips, but he’s too disoriented and horny to fight them off.

“Don’t get it off all the way,” suggests Billy.

“Cheeky devil,” Dom replies. “You want his pants only half-way off to keep his legs together, make him tighter for you.”

“Do you have to know me this well?” Billy asks. “It’s unsettling.”

Silk glides over Elijah’s thighs and stops before it reaches his knees. He still feels shy, but his need for sex is strong now. Operating on instinct, he’s able to spread his legs a few inches apart, but the silk prevents him from going any further.

“Fucking hell,” Dom groans, not for the first time. “Billy, I’ve changed my mind. Let me have him. I can’t not do him. Look how willing he is.” Dom is hard again – Elijah can hear it in his voice.

“You can ready him, and that’s all,” says Billy.

“I want to ready him by fucking him,” says Dom, pressing his cock against Elijah’s entrance. The bound man can’t move his arms, he’s got limited control of his legs, and he can’t talk, but he can push back hard enough to let Dom know that he wants to be taken.

Miraculously, Billy seems unshaken by this tableau. He inspects the back of his hand. “How many photographs do I have of you, Dommie?”

Dom stops pushing. “Quite a few.”

“And how compromising are they?”

“Not very.”

“Including the one with the kennel supplies?”

“Toss me the lube,” sighs Dom. Eyes closed, Elijah hears Billy rummaging around in his pockets. Dom catches something in his right hand.

“Cherry,” he mutters. “How appropriate.” Elijah’s eyes are now wide open, but he can’t turn his head far enough to see what what’s happening. He hears Dom opening the small packet with his teeth. While Dom is occupied, Billy kneels by Elijah’s head and unzips his fly. Elijah wishes that Billy were closer, or that his own tongue were longer.

“I’ll make this good for you, princess,” says Dom, and he does. Elijah feels Dom spreading his cheeks apart, two slick fingers caressing his tightness. Elijah opens his mouth to gasp and sucks in some of the knotted shirt.

“You like that, don’t you?” Elijah hears the smirk in Dom’s voice. “I have other things you’ll like.” Elijah feels Dom’s breath hot against him.

And now Elijah is moaning into the shirt, because Dom can’t be doing the things the younger man thinks he is. He can’t be licking wicked circles around the rim of the captive’s opening (oh Jesus) with his supple, questing tongue. He can’t be dipping into Elijah, teasing and tantalizing him and making all of his nerve endings catch fire from the inside. And he can’t possibly be tongue-fucking him into a frenzy in front of Billy, who is now fingering his own leaking cock a few inches from Elijah’s face.

“You’re supposed to get the lube into him,” chides Billy, his voice uncharacteristically husky. “Not eat it out.”

“You could watch me lick his arse all night,” grumbles Dom, “and the only problem we’d have is how to clean the carpet.” But he presses two slippery fingers against Elijah, then pushes them in.

Elijah bucks upon entry. There’s pain at first, then the beginnings of ecstasy, and he thinks back to finger-fucking his girlfriend in the back seat of his mother’s car when he was sixteen. Now it’s his turn to be probed and pleasured, and he whimpers into the gag.

Dom applies more lube, then presses three wet fingers into him. The fingers hook inside him, then beckon, while the other hand strokes Elijah’s sac, half trapped between the slightly parted thighs. A shock of pleasure runs through the dark-haired boy, and he twists and spasms.

“My turn,” says Billy, and the hands that were manipulating Elijah into a state of bliss withdraw. Dom kneels at Elijah’s side while Billy shucks his jeans and shirt. The fabric rustles as it hits the floor. The floor trembles slightly as Billy lands on his knees behind Elijah. His pockets must have contained additional lube, because Elijah can hear the Scotsman slicking himself up. Then a wide, smooth cockhead presses tightly against the sensitive aperture. Elijah moans through the gag.

“Look at you.” Dom strokes his cheek. “Jesus, how long are your eyelashes? And that lily-white arse: so pretty. It’ll be even prettier with Billy up to his balls in it.” Elijah tenses, mindful of the imminent invasion. Billy begins stroking his side with one hand, as though quieting a racehorse.

“Easy, sweetheart. Nobody’s going to hurt you.” Elijah can tell, even without seeing, that Billy is shooting Dom a look, but he forgets about that as the Scotsman begins rubbing the tip of his cock against the opening to his body. Pleasure and fear sweep over him. He wants this, has wanted it for months now, but he doesn’t know how much his body will be able to take. He’s never had anyone touch him internally before today, and Billy’s girth is making him apprehensive.

“All right, all right,” says Dom. “Don’t get your knickers in a knot. I’ll help.” He shambles off. Elijah can hear him pawing around in Billy’s jeans, knocking his keys and wallet to the floor.

“Can you do anything delicately?” Billy wants to know.

“I could do Elijah delicately,” reports Dom, “if I’d already done him rough.” Dom kneels next to Elijah, close to his face, and tears open another packet of lube with his teeth. He wets his palms with it, then reaches for Elijah’s cock.

“There we are, love,” soothes Dom. “Let’s get you ready for Billy.” He circles Elijah’s shaft with his thumb and forefinger. The circle glides from the base of the shaft to the head, tightens there, then glides back down to the base. Elijah pants against the inside of the gag as Dom repeats the cycle, stroking and gentling him.

Billy is pressing against him harder now. There’s a push, a gasp, and a rush of pain and pleasure as the head of Billy’s cock breaches the tight ring of muscle. Elijah shivers, no longer alone in his body.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” says Billy. “I’ll just rest in you a while. The hard part’s over.”

Dom opens his mouth, and Elijah knows that he’s going to make a crack about Billy’s choice of adjective, but Billy clears his throat, making Dom think better of it. He continues to move slick fingers over Elijah’s swollen sex.

“Relax for me,” says Billy, running his hands over Elijah’s sides. “Mmm, you’re fine. If I’d known you’d be this tight, I might have let Dom take your boxers off all the way.” He sweeps his hands over Elijah’s nipples, wringing a moan from the younger man’s lips.

Dom bends his head to bite and suck a nearby shoulder. “It makes me hot to see you this way, Elijah: tied, gagged, with another man inside you. Jesus, you look even nakeder with your clothes half on.”

Nakeder than what? Elijah wants to know, since Dom has never seen him stripped. At least, not stripped and conscious. He resolves to pursue the matter later, because the only thing he wants to do now is to push back against Billy, sheathing him a little further inside. Billy grasps him by the hips, seemingly trying to keep from sinking any further in.

“Slowly,” he gasps. “There’s no rush.” But Elijah wants more contact. He lurches backward, enjoying the sensation of Dom’s fingers, caught unawares, hurtling over his aroused flesh. The reversal seats Billy firmly inside him.

“Gah,” says Billy.

“Nice, isn’t he?”

“Jesus.” Billy begins rocking back and forth inside Elijah, trying different angles, until Elijah tenses and cries out against the shirt.

“That’s the spot, isn’t it? Lijah, sweetheart, I’m going to make you feel so good.” Billy thrusts into him, touching him exactly where he wants to be touched. He closes his eyes, and again, his eyelids shelter stars.

Dom’s mouth is hot against the side of Elijah’s neck, and he bites down. “I could fucking eat you,” he says. His hand slides over the aching shaft.

“Will you stop marking him?” asks Billy. “I’m the one doing him.” He makes his point with his hips, penetrating Elijah a little harder. Elijah moans as Billy bumps against the small, responsive gland.

“Just trying to get him hot for you,” says Dom. Still stroking, he crouches over to skim his tongue against the shell of Elijah’s ear.

“Good, yeah?” Billy asks Elijah for the second time this night. Good doesn’t begin to cover it, thinks Elijah. He’s heard about prostate sensations, but never experimented with them. Now Billy is doing the experimenting for him, and the pleasure is intense.

“Fuck me,” he begs. The gag muffles the sound, but Billy fucks him anyway. Elijah can hear the other man’s balls slapping against him as they mate. It’s a primitive sound, almost animalistic, and it makes Elijah weak with lust.

Dom’s mouth is close and confidential. “You love this. Love the feel of another man taking pleasure inside you, don’t you? You’re going to come so hard, and when you do, you’ll take him with you.” He rubs his thumb over Elijah’s slit, then continues moving his hand over the engorged flesh.

“Little slut,” continues Dom, as Elijah thrusts against his hand. “I could come just watching you.”

Billy has nothing to add to the comment. He’s bent over now, his chest touching Elijah’s back, and his hips are bucking and thrashing. He wraps his arms around Elijah’s torso, as though he doesn’t want him to get away, and couples with him fiercely.

“I want you to lose it,” Dom says. “Lose every shred of control you ever had. And you will, because neither of us will stop until you do. Another minute of Billy nailing that pretty arse of yours, and you’ll go off in my hand like a bottle rocket.”

Dom’s perverse narrative remains the dirtiest thing Elijah has ever heard – for about ten seconds. That’s when Billy starts moaning. The sound rises and falls in time with Billy’s thrusts, one long tangle of lusty vowels that exist nowhere south of Hadrian’s Wall. Billy is moaning in Scottish, and his raw, unhinged wailing shakes Elijah to the core.

“It’s coming,” says Dom, understanding the panic in Elijah’s eyes. “Let it take you, princess.” He cups Elijah’s testicles in one hand and strokes his hard length with the other.

“OhJesusGodfuckyes,” cries Billy.

“I know.” Dom turns his face towards the Scotsman. “I’m going to watch it happen, but you’re going to feel it.” He returns his gaze to Elijah. “Go ahead, baby. Let me see you come.”

And then Dom gets his wish. Something about being unable to move or talk has made Elijah hyper-aware of his body, and he experiences every phase of his climax in slow motion. He can feel the orgasm licking at his feet, then caressing his calves. It mounts his thighs, then wraps itself around his balls, tight and heavy in Dom’s hand. When it reaches the tip of his cock, Elijah cries out, thrusting wildly, lost in spirals of excruciating pleasure. Wracked with ecstasy, he clenches down on Billy.

“Elijah,” whimpers Billy. “JesusfuckGod, Elijah, yes!” And as Billy loses himself inside Elijah’s willing body, Elijah pumps into Dom’s waiting hand.

When he comes back to himself, Billy is holding him tightly by the waist, his lips soft against Elijah’s back. Then Billy pulls out, and Elijah’s knees sink to the floor.

Dom tongues the stickiness from his middle and ring fingers. “Nice work, Bills. You really nailed the dismount.” Using one hand, he unties Elijah’s makeshift gag and lets it fall to the floor. He cups Elijah’s chin, then offers him a come-slicked index finger. Thankful his parish priest can’t see him now, Elijah licks it clean.

Dom smiles. “Let’s get this belt off you, baby. Believe me, you’ll be needing all four limbs before the night is out.” Once the belt is off, Elijah staggers to his feet, rubbing his wrists. They’re pink and aching, but his interest in them wanes when he sees Dom’s friendly leer.

“Where do you want me?” he asks, knowing that the question will please his companions.

“Up on the bed with you, prettiness. Lie down on your side. You too, Bill. I want you facing Elijah.”

“I’m not going,” Billy announces. “This floor’s been good to me.” But when Elijah lets Dom maneuver him to the bed, Billy follows.

As directed, Elijah lies down. He’s on his side now, facing Billy, with about a foot of space between them. Billy’s also lying on his side, his lips slightly parted, and his short hair in post-coital disarray. Light brown hair dusts his well-defined chest, and his cock lies rosy and waiting in its brown thicket.

“This is about his kink, isn’t it?” asks Billy. “You want me to…”

“Yeah,” says Dom.

Billy edges closer to Elijah and grasps the younger man’s hand. Elijah gasps as Billy guides his hand over the head of his cock, nestled in its sheath of skin.

“You like that we’re uncut, don’t you? It does something for you?”

Flushing, Elijah nods.

“You know how good friction feels … here?” Billy reaches out and strokes Elijah, touching the soft skin where the glans meets the shaft. Surprised, Elijah flinches, then stiffens against Billy’s hand.

“Fuck, yeah.”

“If you weren’t … cut,” continues Billy, “I could put my hand around you and make the skin rub against the head of your cock, right where you want friction most. Do you want to know what that’s like?”

It occurs to Elijah that Billy is leading him on. “How? I can’t…”

Billy presses the head of his cock against Elijah’s, then slides his foreskin over the younger man’s glans and holds it there.

“Like that,” answers Billy. “Now move against me. Now. I won’t be able to do this for very long.”

Elijah thrusts. Billy’s right; the sensation of skin against the head of his cock is fantastic, but it’s the idea that Billy is opening his body to him that has him half-delirious with lust. He moans and thrusts again, savoring the pressure of Billy’s skin and hand. Billy’s eyes go vacant, and he begins to move his lips. At first, Elijah thinks he’s praying, but then he recognizes the multiplication tables. A few more thrusts, however, and the older man’s libido triumphs over his distancing technique. As Billy gets hard, Elijah finds himself ejected from the warmth and tightness of the other man’s sheath.

“I can’t believe I lasted as long as I did,” says Billy. “Is that how you always moan? It sounds so … American. It’s like I’m in bed with James Dean.”

Dom rolls his eyes. “If James Dean were here, he’d be wishing to hell he had just balled Elijah. Now, roll over on your back.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to teach Elijah to fuck you, that’s why.”

Elijah has never seen Billy roll over on his back so fast. The thought of being on top of him makes the younger man’s heart pound, but he assumes an air of studied nonchalance. “What’s there to know?” he asks, as though he’s had fifty Scotsmen a day since puberty.

Dom laughs. “Please. This is Billy. If I were to show you everything he likes, we’d never get back to the set.” He throws Elijah a pillow. “Make yourself useful: put this under his arse. You’ll like the angle it gives you, and he won’t mind it any.”

To be continued …