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“You’d stop us, though.” Ash hesitated, though his hand snuck around to find Blake’s stiff prick and tug. “If it truly hurt, if you didn’t like any of it…I know you want to please us…”
“I do,” Blake gasped. “To please you…to be good for you…”
“Reminders,” Cam said gently. They had talked about it, somewhat; it’d only been a month, both his boys had been ill, and Ash had been more or less a virgin. They’d had some frank discussions, combined with mostly cautious exploration. “You say stop and we’ll stop that particular thing. You say your word, your signal, and we’ll stop it all.”
Blake nodded, and made a helpless sound, because Ash was teasing his prick.
Ashley asked, “Can we stop it, as well? If we need to.” It was a good question, a responsible one.
“Oh. Aye. You think of the word you want. Mine would be mandrake, his is viola, if you recall.” They’d said it, but he wasn’t sure Ash remembered; it’d been part of one of those discussions, theoretical rather than practical. “If you’d just want to use stop, for now—”
“Oh, let’s say an?dunos,” Ash said, “classical Greek, freedom from pain, and so on. Though…we’re not doing too much, tonight, are we?”
“No. Just enough.”
“I might like more,” Blake said, cheek against the bedpost.
Ashley laughed. Cam said, “Ah, there you are,” and tapped his thigh, weightlessly, with the cane. “I was wondering. Only ten. And then we’ll take you to bed, and fuck you, while you’re feeling it.”
“Yes,” Blake said. “I want that, please.”
“Good boy,” Cam said, “now show Ash how good you are, for us,” and nodded at Ashley.
Ash moved a step, giving him space. Cam adjusted grip, tested a practice swing—not connecting—and adjusted again. It had been some time; he was also fairly sure that for Blake it was more about the submission, the capitulation, taking what was given, than the actual pain.
He did not make Blake count. He did aim, neatly. The impact echoed, red and bright.
It was Ashley who gasped aloud, though Blake moaned. The line burned pink across his backside; Cam had planned it there, shockingly visible.
“Oh,” Ash said. “Oh—Blake, are you sure…” But his tongue also darted out to lick his lips, leaving them pink and wet. He was breathing faster.
“I’m sure.” Blake’s voice came slower, heavier, as if opium-laced. “It’s good…it’s right, taking this…knowing I’m yours, belonging to you, and I’ll feel it and I’ll know it and I’ll be good at taking it…”
“You are,” Cam told him. Again. Harder: reinforcing the point. And again.
He’d said only ten, but he spaced them out, deliberately uneven, keeping Blake guessing. Thighs, as well. Shoulders, twice. Back to that pert arse. Blake made beautiful noises, not hiding his responses: quivering, panting, sobbing a bit, hips lifting and moving and rocking his prick against the bedpost. His hands opened, closed: secure in their bonds.
Ashley was mesmerized, breathing fast, entranced. “He looks so…”
Radiant. Transcendent. Given over to the impacts, to the heat, to everything happening to his body. Cam saw it in Blake’s face, felt it in the rock-hard line of his own cock. He put a hand on Ash’s hip. Ashley murmured, “Can I also be naked?”
“By all means.”
Ash stripped—clumsily, quickly, leaving clothing in a heap—and came back, tall and slim and fair and eager as a youthful dominant partner could be. He touched Blake’s arse, ran a hand over welts. Blake groaned, shuddered, arched his back.
“Blake,” Ash mused, petting him. “You look so lovely. I never thought…I wondered what you’d be like, in bed. You told me once you’d let a lover—a countess—tie you up. You wanted to shock me. I thought about that story every night for weeks. That you could want that, that you would…I pictured it. I pictured me instead of her. You being all mine, tied up, so you were helpless, begging, needing me to touch you.”
Christ. Ashley truly was good at this. Cam found himself impressed.
“I didn’t really know anything, then. I’m learning.” Ash pressed fingers into a welt. Blake groaned, a deep contented pleasure-sound. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just want you to know you belong to us. And we love you, and you deserve to be loved, and if you need to feel it, to know it, in all of you…we can both do that.” He glanced back at Cam. “How many?”
“Up to seven,” Cam said, amused. He had an idea of where Ash was going, and he hadn’t expected it, but he was on board. “You want to try, then?”
Blake’s inhale was audible even against the bedpost; he turned his head to look at Ash.
“One or two,” Ash said. “It won’t be hard, I mean in terms of—of strength. I just…think I should know whether I like it, and how it feels. And he’s ours, both of ours, so I want to show him that.”
“Oh God,” Blake said, “oh God, Ash, Ash, please—but you don’t have to—but yes—but don’t think you have to, for me…”
