Author: Aardvark

Email: losingthewill2live@gmail.com

 

The following story is almost certainly a work of fiction.

 

If you shouldn't be reading this sort of thing, because of the rules which operate in the place where you live, then your decision to continue reading must be a matter between you, your conscience, and your relationship with whoever it is who makes the rules be it your mother or your government.

 

Comments are welcome. And, as ever, donations to Nifty are encouraged. We all get a helluva lot of `entertainment' from these pages; give something back. Follow the link on the Nifty homepage to see how you can donate. 

 

Parts 1 through 20 of Lost Ball were published on Nifty last summer and can be found on `Best of Nifty' (thanks to Antony T. for making that happen!) - and at the time of uploading the final installment, I mentioned that there might be the occasional extra episode, which would fill in some of the gaps between the main story and the epilogue. This is one such.

 

  

 

Lost Ball: Part 21

 

`Playing for the Team'

 

 

It was late. For some reason maybe cheese, at dinner, or the double espresso afterwards I'd found that I was still buzzing when I finally got in from Federico's party, and at one in the morning I was still surfing the net, idly following one link after another, with no particular search in mind. Which meant that when the message appeared in the corner of my screen announcing the arrival of an email from Dom, I clicked on it immediately, and a minute later having read the email - I was opening skype, so I could talk to him in person.

 

"Fantastic!" I said, as his face appeared on-screen, with the palm trees and sunshine of a California morning visible in the background. "So, you're finally coming to stay, the two of you!"

"Looks like it. If that's ok?" His voice was deep and rich, and unmistakable; I'd observed its seductive qualities in action on many occasions, over the years, and I suspected that he'd set a good number of his lecture students' pulses racing in all his time as a professor, merely by talking them through the finer points of renaissance European literature in precisely those mellifluous tones. It didn't hurt either that his year-round tan was offset by a neatly sculpted beard and moustache, and a pair of dark eyes which sparkled either with engagement or with threat the possibility of either making his physical presence just that bit more arresting.

"But, only for one night? Surely you can manage more than that?" Of course, they were more than welcome to visit, but it seemed a shame to come so far, and for so short a time.

"I don't see how. I can't leave here any sooner than the Wednesday, and Hedda would be really pissed if we were in Europe and we didn't pass by...and then, Evan's timetable means we have to leave directly from Rome as soon as the seminar's finished, on the following Thursday; he has a new production that's going into build, that week". Hedda was Dom's sister, who lived in Paris, and Evan Dom's partner was a set designer for the theatre. "It's already quite a juggling feat, trying to fit it all in but it's been far too long that we've not seen you, and we haven't even seen this house of yours...so, it seemed worth a try"

"Well. If that's all the time we can have you for, then I guess it'll just have to do. It's better than nothing, at any rate." I was disappointed, but resigned.

"'We'?" Dom missed nothing.

"Um. Yes." I'd spoken without thinking. "I should think Leo will be here, as it'll be a Saturday night." Purposely, I kept my tone light and casual.

"Leo?" He considered the name. "Is this a new diversion?" As was only to be expected, I was now going to be subjected to the third-degree. As old friends always consider their privilege.

"Well. Not so new. I've known him for, I don't know, it must be eighteen months now. And...it's a bit more than just a `diversion'" Dom digested this information, and his radar responded at once to the fact that it was only now that I was telling him of this change in my life.

"You've kept this all rather a secret." He was clearly intrigued, and maybe even a little suspicious; it was admittedly unusual that I hadn't shared Leo's existence with Dom, who was my oldest and closest friend but the complicated history of Leo's and my relationship, in its early stages, had somehow stopped me from doing so, as if I feared jinxing things; at some level, maybe, I'd been nervous that to announce the fact of our relationship might be to put it at risk. Before the Gods...or whatever.

"Well, not really." I was being evasive, and he knew it. "It just never, exactly, came up." Lame. And bollocks.

"So. Tell all..." Dom demanded, and sat back in his seat, for the full story.

"Well. He's smart, and funny, and charming," I said. "And cute, and wonderful...and, we have a lot of fun together." As a description, it was as generalised and incomplete as they come.

"I'll bet!" There was no mistaking the crude implication in Dom's response. "And, is he sexy?"

"Like you wouldn't believe!" Now, on that point, my answer was clearly heartfelt. "He is about the sexiest being you could imagine! Just...incredible...!" I ran out of words. Dom's interest was obviously piqued.

"But you guys don't live together? Since you said that he'll be there `because it's a Saturday'? Does he work someplace else, and you only get weekends together?"

"No. Well... yes. But not in the way you mean, exactly." Dom's eyebrows lifted, quizzically. "He...um...he lives with his parents, during the week. But we have weekends ...and other time together". Dom's eyebrows remained raised, in question. There was more information that he was missing, that was clear.

"His parents?" There was no version of the facts that he could equate with this piece of information. If Leo couldn't afford to live in his own place, then why hadn't he just moved in with me? Or was there something about the parents which meant he had to take care of them? It was a detail that would need further explanation but for now, it wasn't central to his enquiry. "Do you have a picture?" What this paragon looked like was much more to the point.

"Yes. Somewhere." I wasn't trying to be evasive, but somehow I was managing to be.

"On your computer, maybe?" Dom's tone was patiently ironic.

"One or two, yes." In fact, by now, I had whole directories of pictures of Leo: in the snow, last winter; relaxing, in the garden, in the summer; sunbathing, on the terrace; looking slightly drunk, at the end of a celebratory dinner after his exams; walking, in the hills, in glorious spring sunshine. But, on being pressed, it was two or three of the pictures I'd taken of Leo on the beach, in Greece, that I sent to Dom, in response to his request...command...that I do so. Leo, wearing nothing but a navy speedo and a brilliant smile, looking happy, and sexy, and bronzed, and glorious. Ok, in sending precisely those pictures I was blatantly showing off...but, what the hell!

As he opened his incoming mail, I could still see Dom's face on my screen, although I knew that on his he was watching the files open which contained Leo's photos. At first, there was a look of concentration on his face...and then, as the pictures appeared, his eyes widened, and his eyebrows once again shot up. But this time, in blatant surprise.

"Woah!" His response was a picture all its own, and I grinned, even though I knew he was looking not at me but at Leo, in all or mostly all - of his glory. "My God! But...how old is he?" Dom asked. I could tell he was impressed.

"Seventeen. Two weeks ago." Dom gave a low whistle of approval.

"You. Lucky. Fucking. Cuss!" he said. And I could only agree, while he carried on shaking his head in mild disbelief.

"Ok. You can stop drooling over those pictures, now," I ordered, when I judged his interest in them should have been well satisfied. And, dutifully, he closed the files and returned his concentration to our conversation - although I knew full well that the pictures would be the object of his, and inevitably Evan's, close attention for some time to come.

"So, I get the `parent' thing, now," he said. "I guess you have shared custody?"

"Something like that." And I suppose it was...something like that.

"And that works?"

"Well enough. Although there were some bumpy patches earlier on." I didn't elaborate. "I get him for weekends and some limited time during the week, and he's with them for the rest of the time. Oh, and I have him for holidays, too." There was a pause, as Dom took all of this in.

"They must be amazingly understanding."

"They have no choice in the matter." Again, I didn't elaborate, but it must have been clear from my comment that that was a history there which I wasn't going into.

Now, and not unexpectedly, Dom changed tack. "So," he said, with feigned innocence, "does he play?"

I would have been surprised if he hadn't asked. Dom and Evan have been together for ten years or more, and they are a couple of the sexiest people I know. In every sense. I don't think I've ever known a relationship quite like theirs. I'd known Dom for years before he and Evan ever met, and I know him pretty well. From the first moment that I saw them together, he and Evan appeared completely besotted with each other, in a way I've rarely seen; and even now, after all this time, they seem just as besotted. Constantly touching each other, and catching each other's eye, and if at a party, for instance, forever seeking out where the other one has got to, wherever they are in the room. It's a relationship based deeply, fundamentally on sex and on sexual compatibility, and they seem to have a sexual language and connection unlike anybody else, with a physical attraction to each other which radiates off them. And which acts as a magnet to others. They treat sex with other people as a social activity which is entirely uncomplicated, and fun, and has no more serious a connotation than if they were to be taking afternoon tea. And so, they do it they fuck - with other people, a lot. And it is fun I know, because I've been one of those people, on more than one occasion. About five years before my current conversation with Dom, I'd spent a week with them in California, and during that week we'd all spent as much time in bed together as out of it. And it was a helluva lot of fun; with absolutely no awkwardness, either at the time or subsequently: just great, enjoyable, satisfying sex. I have no idea whether the presence of someone else maybe inspires a deeper energy in what goes on afterwards, when it's just the two of them but, that is something which is only for them to know, and I've never tried to fathom how it works between them. I can just observe that it does.

"No," I laughed at his question, "he does not play!" From anybody else, it would have seemed sleazy and off-colour, but I suppose given our shared history, as well as what I knew of his and Evan's perfectly relaxed approach to these things, his implied suggestion seemed perfectly inoffensive.

"Pity," he said. "Evan will be disappointed." And I could only laugh, again, at the responsibility being shifted so neatly from Dom's shoulders.

"Of course," he added, visibly brightening, "what you really mean is that he doesn't play yet!"

"Piss off!" I retorted, still amused. "And email me your travel details." With which I broke the connection, and headed for bed.

 

*

I was conscious, though, as I drifted off to sleep, that despite my negative response, there had been some resonance on my part to Dom's question and to his subsequent statement. It was far from the first time that the idea of Leo being on the receiving end of some other guy's or guys' sexual attention had crossed my mind. It was an image which had been playing in my mind on occasion, in one form or another, for the past few months.

In fact, it dated back to our trip to Greece, in the summer. To the second week, to be precise, when we'd turned our backs on ruins and museums, and spent the week living in a little hut on a small, sandy beach in the Cyclades. The hut was one of half a dozen which were attached to a small taverna, where it was possible to eat and drink whenever we wanted. Other than that, we were out in the country with no other buildings anywhere around, and merely the rocky landscape and the curve of the beach before us. It had been a week spent reading, and lazing in the sun, and watching glorious sunsets, and swimming and snorkeling (Leo, not me), and siestas, and, of course, sex. Pure, low-key self-indulgence.

The other huts were all occupied for the entire time we were there, with a changing cast of characters, most of whom I barely noticed; it's the sort of place that people are attracted to if they're not very interested to mingle and socialize, and for the most part everybody kept pretty much to themselves. It was probably on the third day we were there, though, that I noticed the Germans, two guys that I immediately registered as a gay couple...tight, worked bodies, and very small speedos which they wore not only when they were tanning on the beach but apparently most of the time otherwise. I suppose they were in their mid-thirties. And what I noticed most about them was the way that they noticed us. Leo and me.

We were having lunch in the taverna, having spent the morning out on the headland, and were now taking shelter from the glare of the midday sun in the dappled shade of the terrace. A few of the other tables were occupied, but it wasn't as though the place was crowded, and there was a low background murmur of other people's conversation, mingled with the slow, distant rhythm of the waves breaking sluggishly on the beach. Leo went inside, to take a look at what was available for lunch, and I watched him as he went, deeply tanned, and wearing just his dark blue speedo and a white singlet, a patch of sand from the beach still decorating his shoulder, and his hair an unruly mop from having dried in the sun after he'd been swimming. The speedo stretched tight across his arse, and his thigh muscles flexed as he walked, his feet encased in a pair of white canvas shoes. As I watched him, I realized that I wasn't alone, either in looking at him, or in appreciating what there was to be looked at. One of the Germans, a well-built guy with thinning hair and designer stubble, watched as Leo walked past, and then he nudged his companion, seated across the table from him, and indicated with a movement of his head that he should look as well. Which he did. And then turned and made an appreciative face back at the first guy.

When Leo returned, clasping a couple of glasses, a bottle of water and a small jug of retsina, both of their heads were up, and they discreetly but unashamedly ogled him, first the front view and then the rear, as he passed them, entirely oblivious to their attention. Without being so obvious that anybody else would have noticed, their gaze followed his arse all the way back to our table, where he deposited what he was carrying. I smiled up at him, and as I glanced across at the Germans, one of them grinned at me, and then he winked. Meaningfully. At me. In appreciation? In congratulation? I couldn't tell, and in any event I looked away and concentrated instead on the list of food on offer in the kitchen that Leo was relaying, as he sat across the table from me. Afterwards, as we ate, I was conscious of the regular glances that came in our direction from Leo's two admirers, and it was with some relief that I greeted the arrival of a group of four Dutch people - not residents, but people who'd driven out to the beach for lunch - who loudly took a table in the centre of the terrace and were in a perfect position to block the view of the two Germans.

I was a little surprised. During all of the time that we'd been traveling, I'd been unaware that anybody had guessed correctly the true nature of Leo's and my relationship, and I suppose I'd assumed that people, whenever they saw us together, would have taken us for father and son, or godson, or nephew, or whatever. And would have had no idea at all that we were energetically fucking like bunnies at every available opportunity. Until the Germans, of course, who not only understood at first glance what was going on, but were entirely supportive of the idea. And not only that, they would even have been interested to lend a hand, I had no doubt.

As had become our habit, we took ourselves after lunch to the far end of the beach, where we set up camp for the afternoon in the shade of some rocks, and spent the time dozing and reading, with the occasional foray down to the sea, to cool off in the waves. And, the Germans followed. Not so close as to be an issue, but close enough that they kept us in sight the whole time. I don't think Leo noticed, or not in a way that caused him to comment. But I was conscious the entire time that they were there, maybe twenty yards away, and that their attention was lazily focused for the whole afternoon on where we lay. I couldn't be certain, but I suspect that a camera with a tele-photo lens came into play, on more than one of the occasions that Leo made the journey down to the water's edge, and almost certainly when I was applying another layer of sunscreen to his back, after he'd returned. I should have been flattered, and certainly it would have been daft for me to have taken offence in any way; I've been round the block quite enough times to recognize the rituals of cruising, and to respect them for what they are. I was reasonably certain that had I taken the Germans up on their subtle invitations to make contact, then we would all have been sharing a beach towel, and probably rather a lot more, before the day was out. And that was where the issue lay: so far from the truth was it that I felt offended by their interest in Leo - in fact, it was the other way round, and I found myself sharply interested in the idea of what I assumed they would want to do to him. And that was another thing ...`to' him, not `with' him. In an instant, my mind had conjured up an image of Leo as a sex-object and of the Germans doing to him whatever they wanted, and of him ...allowing them to do it...or did I mean having no choice in the matter, and having to submit to whatever they wanted, whether he wanted it or not? Even as I glanced across at them, now apparently chatting together as they lay there, my mind, unbidden, conjured up an image of one of them pulling off Leo's speedo and roughly pulling his legs back and apart, for his friend to fuck him, right there on the sand. I stifled a groan which Leo wouldn't have heard in any case, as he had earphones clamped tightly in place, and was listening to some music, the slight beat of which was only just discernible to me - and I turned to lie on my front, hiding from him my immediate predicament, should he choose to open his eyes and look in my direction. The upshot of which was that by the time we struck camp at the end of the afternoon and made tracks back to our hut, I was feeling so horny that we were barely through the door of the room before I was on him, and gave him the fucking of his life. For that, if for nothing else, he should have had reason to think kindly of his German fan-club.

But the thought had been firmly planted in my mind, and the image of Leo being on the receiving end of their attentions came back repeatedly to plague me during the course of the evening. So much so that, later that night, I casually raised the subject with him. We'd retired to our room, after a very late dinner, and were lying in bed, naked, sleepless in the intensity of the summer heat; unusually, the wind which normally freshened the island during August had died down, and everybody was suffering as a result. In an attempt to catch any breeze there might be, we'd left the shutters and windows all wide open, and even so the flame of the single candle which was alight on the bedside table burned steadily, with not a hint of guttering as it did so. Inside our tent of mosquito netting, with the bedclothes banished to the floor, Leo was stretched out on his front, and I gently traced patterns with my finger on the expanse of his back, golden in the candlelight, with a light sheen of sweat glistening over the bronze of his suntan. His face, resting on his crossed forearms, was turned in my direction, but his eyes were closed as he relaxed beneath my touch.

"I expect Walter and Detlef would give their right hands to be here, now, doing what I'm doing," I commented, as my fingertip traced the demarcation line between dark and light flesh at the top of his buttocks.

"Who?" He frowned slightly, but he didn't open his eyes.

"Your two admirers, on the beach today. Didn't you notice them?"

He thought, for a second. "Yes, I think so." So, he had...but he hadn't commented. "But, I thought their names were Herr Wankel and Herr Winckelmann." He smiled to himself, pleased with his own joke.

"Only if you're being formal." My fingers slid up his backbone, applying slight pressure as I gently worked each of his vertebra as I went. "And I don't think that `being formal' was what they had in mind."

"No," he agreed. And there was a pause, and then a slight groan, as I massaged the back of his neck more forcefully, and he arched his neck up a little, in order to meet my touch. "So...what exactly...do you think they did ...'have in mind'?"

I moved, so that I was kneeling properly up and beside him, and I began to massage his shoulders in earnest. Which meant that he raised his head, and then buried it properly into the crook of his arms which were folded across the pillow beneath him. My cock came casually into contact with his back as I worked his shoulders. "Oh," I said, after a moment, "I think they had in mind doing all sorts of creative things with you. And then, after all of that, I should think they had in mind fucking you, both of them, one after the other, taking it in turns." I don't know what effect that image was having on him, but by this point my own cock was well on the way to full-on hardness. My left hand traveled the length of his back, and I slipped it between his slightly-parted legs, so that my fingertips grazed his balls, while my thumb slid between his arse cheeks and gently rested against his puckered hole.

"But, you wouldn't let them do that." His voice had a throatiness to it, from which I knew that he too was distinctly affected by the image I'd described. "You'd stop them." It was expressed as a statement, but hidden at the end of what he'd said seemed to be a distinct, if unarticulated question mark. As though I might not.

"Well, ordinarily, yes." He raised his arse off the bed, and my hand slipped beneath him, to explore his rapidly hardening cock. "Of course I would." I fondled him. "But, in this instance, I think they've got me tied up, and I can't move." I moved round behind him, kneeling between his legs, as his arse was raised in the air, and he braced himself on his knees and elbows, clasping his pillow. Ready. "I have no choice but to watch, as they do it to you. I can't stop them. All those things they want to do." I quickly slicked some saliva on my cockhead, and positioned it against him. "And then, they make me watch, as they fuck you. First one of them, and then the other..." Leo's breathing was loud and rapid, by now, and he reached up under himself, so that he could work his erection as I pushed my cock against his arsehole. "And then the first one again, fucking into you, all tight and hot from his boyfriend's cock..." and as I pushed into him, Leo growled with a low moan of pleasure. The time for words was over, but as I fucked into him, and he worked himself to his own orgasm, we were both driven on by the images of what I'd just been describing to him.

In more ways than one, the seed was well and truly planted, that night.

 

*

"So, tell me about these friends of yours?" Leo asked. "Who are they?"

He was watching, as I made supper, mid-week; a glass of tonic water in his hand, while I had a glass of wine by my side. There were no exact rules about his alcohol consumption, and he would probably have a glass of wine while we ate but he was by nature relatively abstemious, when it came to drinking, at any rate, and it was unusual for him to imbibe more than a single glass if, as now, it was a school night. I'd mentioned to him in a phone conversation earlier in the week that we were expecting houseguests for a night, three weekends hence, and for him it was a novel experience.

"Well, one of them, you already know. Sort of," I said. "In that photograph in Venice, in the bedroom. Dom is one of the two other people with me in the picture. He's one of my oldest friends we first knew each other in Paris, more than twenty years ago." Leo frowned, in an effort to recall the details of the photograph in question. "He's the one with the blue shirt on," I specified.

"He's taller than you?" Leo asked. "Or, he looks it, in the picture." I considered, and then agreed. "And does he still look the same now as he did then?"

"More or less. Although he has a beard now. And he's spent the past twenty years working out in a Californian gymn, so he's probably in better shape now than he was then."

"Hm." That was a fact to be filed away. "And is that his boyfriend, the other person in the photograph?"

"Well, that was his boyfriend then, when the photograph was taken. But that's not Evan. He and Evan hadn't met, at that point. I'm not sure I can even remember the name of the guy in the picture. It might have been Robert. Or was it Richard?" It surprised me that I'd forgotten. "But, it was only a fleeting thing, anyway they hadn't known each other for long before we went to Venice, and I think it fizzled out soon afterwards."

The conversation moved on, to other things although I noticed later on that Leo picked up the photograph of the three of us on the Grand Canal, and seemed to be studying it with care.

And there were more questions, over the days and weeks which followed. Not a barrage, all at once, but a regular and apparently casual return to the subject, over time: What did they do? What were they like, as people? Would he like them? (Yes, probably but who can tell?) Would they like him (Was he kidding?) Had I ever had sex with Dom? (That was a question in bed, late one night, to which the answer was Yes), closely followed by: Had I ever had sex with Evan?...and when my answer in the affirmative seemed somehow qualified, it was quickly by followed by: Had I ever had sex with both of them, together? Yes - and any questions about the exact detail of that situation got swiftly overtaken by the reality of my having sex in the here-and-now, with Leo. I clocked that he'd thought to ask the question, though, as well as by his non-committal acceptance of my answer

And there were other, more general questions, too: Did they speak Italian? (not really), and if not, would his English be good enough for a whole evening with them? (of course; his English was by now excellent), and who was Chaucer? (the subject of the paper Dom was to give at the symposium, in Rome), and how exactly does theatre design function? (don't ask me, ask Evan) and a hundred and one other small things. I recognized from the fact of his questions that the event was looming quite large in Leo's mind, and that he was a little nervous about it all. Nervous about meeting friends of mine, with whom I had a shared past that excluded him, and nervous about the whole situation of meeting socially another gay couple, as part of a gay couple was there a different kind of etiquette, that he might get wrong? Might they find him childish? Would the conversation all be about things that were foreign to him? Would he be bored? Would he be boring? And, underlying it all, how would he find the experience of spending time with a group of people, where the one thing which they definitely all had in common, in some form or another, was sex? Since he didn't articulate his concerns, I couldn't directly address them and, anyway, I'd seen Leo operate socially in so many different situations by now that I knew he would shine when he was with Dom and Evan. He always did. He was always confident, and charming, and interested, and informed, and polite, and in all of the social groups to which I'd introduced him, he'd clearly been a great success. And there was no reason why this time should be any different.

Having said all of which, I couldn't get out of my own head the thought that once we were all together, after Dom and Evan had arrived, then there was no way that they wouldn't be sizing Leo up as a potential playmate however much I might have indicated that he wasn't going to `play', it wasn't going to stop them from contemplating the idea and that I'd probably be on edge the whole time at the disturbingly interesting thought that they would happily spit-roast Leo before my very eyes...and that I found the prospect as hot as fucking hell! I certainly didn't dislike the idea ... but I was uncomfortable uncertain? ambivalent? - about the risk of Leo being bruised by being introduced too soon to experiences that he wasn't yet emotionally ready for. I suppose I could have tried to talk to him about it...but I didn't see how I could introduce the subject without it seeming as though I was trying to manipulate him and the situation in some way. And so, in fact, I said nothing. If I came to any decision at all, it was that I should just butt out, and merely let nature take its course - if it had a course that it wanted to take.

 

*

 

The day arrived. And Dom and Evan arrived. After a day spent dealing with first French and then Italian railways, it was already dark by the time they finally emerged from a taxi, at the gate onto the Piazza, and between the three of us we managed to get their luggage up the lane and into the house. Divested of their coats, and getting a first view of their new surroundings, I could see that Evan was peering curiously around, apparently in search of something. Eventually, he turned to me and muttered "Ok. Where is he?"

"Who?" I asked, with bright innocence. And Dom gave a shout of laughter. He'd already clocked, glancing through the doorway into the dining room, that the table was laid with four settings for dinner, and so any fears Evan might have that Leo wasn't going to show were unfounded. "Oh, Leo, you mean? He'll be here in time for dinner." He'd had a three-line whip to accompany his parents to the wedding of a second-cousin in Arrezzo an event which had entirely slipped his mind until a week ago and he was probably at this point still sitting grumpily in the back of the family car as they made their way back from the reception. And his mood probably wasn't helped, either, by his feeling of unease about the evening ahead of him. It mattered to him that it should go well, and it worried him that it might not.

I got Dom and Evan settled into their room, upstairs, and was told they'd join me in five or ten minutes, once they'd sorted themselves out. In practice, it was closer to half an hour before they reappeared in the kitchen, but they'd scrubbed up pretty well in the meantime. At over six feet, as Leo had pointed out, Dom is slightly taller than me, and his exercise regime had given him strong, broad shoulders and a chest which filled out his black polo shirt in all the right ways; black jeans designer, of some label, I assumed hugged his arse and his thighs, showing them off to good effect, and a pair of black loafers completed the ensemble. Evan, almost as tall as Dom, but with a more sinuous physique which made him more athletically sexy, complemented Dom almost certainly on purpose - with tight white jeans and brilliant white sneakers, topped by a rugger shirt, the white collar turned up, and the body of the shirt quartered in scarlet and royal blue. The sleeves of the shirt were pushed up to his elbows, revealing tanned forearms, and at the back, the hem of the shirt was caught loosely at the belt of his jeans, to present the orbs of his bubble butt perfectly, and as though entirely by chance. Clean-shaven, Evan isn't classically good-looking, but his vulpine features have a slightly wanton quality, far from unattractive, which suggests that he has and can ensnare pretty much whoever he wants. There's about a twelve year gap between them I can never remember exactly what their age difference is and Evan emphasizes his relative youth with a short and rather boyish haircut, which ought no longer to work for him... but somehow it does. And fortunately, I had no cause to feel a slouch alongside these two: I was as trim as they were, and although I probably don't haunt weight machines in quite the way they do, the physical exercise I do take has had an easily comparable result. As a job lot, I thought we presented pretty well, all things considered.

Dinner was more or less sorted by the time they joined me in the kitchen, and I dispensed glasses of prosecco, as I carried on with the remaining preparation. I caught Dom's amused glance at the leg of lamb, turning easily on its spit, before the flames of the wall barbecue. And although he could tell that I knew what he was about to say, he said it anyway: "A spit-roast! What a great idea!" And they were off.

From Evan: "What are we having beforehand? Chicken, maybe, on skewers?"

"Yeah `chicken' sounds great! And for dessert? I would guess it has to be...knickerbocker glory!" Yet again I regretted that they knew of my weakness for guys in their underwear, and the opportunities it gave them for teasing me.

"Knickerbocker glory! Perfect! With loads of whipped cream..."

"And a cherry on top!"

"Oh, yeah. It has to have a cherry, on top!"

"Although, I guess cherries are in pretty short supply around here, these days. From what I hear..."

"With you two queens around, then that's certainly the case," I finally managed to get a word in. "And for your information, for dessert, it's a Tart. Which should suit both of you. To perfection." From his chair in the corner of the room, Dom grinned and raised his glass in my direction in silent toast, and blew me a kiss.

"Seriously, though," I said, as I joined them at the small table where they were seated, "can you tone it down a bit when Leo gets here? He's not really used to this kind of high-octane performance, and I think he's already a little unsure of himself, about meeting you two."

"Us? What could there possibly be for him to be unsure of?" said Evan. But Dom reached forward and touched my hand reassuringly.

"That's ok," he said. "We entirely get it, and we'll be as good as gold." And I believed him.

"We're just a little over-excited," added Evan, which I also believed, "...about seeing you again, after all this time," he finished. Which I didn't believe, quite so readily.

 

*

"So what time is Lover Boy supposed to get here?" asked Evan, some time later, as I drained the end of the first bottle into his glass.

"Any time now, I would have thought," I glanced at the clock. "It depends on their journey time back from Arrezzo...and then it's just a matter of how long he wants to take to make himself look pretty. All in your honour, of course."

"Well, if the photos you sent are anything to go by," Dom interjected, "then that ought to take no time at all. He's plenty pretty enough already, just as nature made him!"

"Particularly, as nature made him!" Evan added, and when I raised an admonitory eyebrow at him he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Ok, ok...I'll be good." And he smiled at me so sweetly that if I hadn't known him better I would almost have believed him.

I must have looked at the clock a dozen times already, and in fact I was in the process of taking the pastry out of the oven, listening over my shoulder to something Dom was saying, when Evan's voice broke in: "Hello. You must be Leo!" And there he was, standing at the far end of the kitchen, still muffled in outdoor clothes and clutching what was obviously a bottle of wine, wrapped in tissue paper. He must have come quietly in through the Tinello door, without anybody having heard him. Above corduroy trousers in a rich navy blue, he was wearing his dark puffa jacket, zipped right up, and a crimson scarf was wrapped tightly around his neck. On his feet were what I guessed to be brand new desert boots in blue suede. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes shone from the cold outside; sporting a new haircut trimmed short at the sides, and longer on top - which I guessed had been imposed on him because of the wedding he'd had to attend, he looked deeply handsome. And I immediately fell in love with him, all over again!

"Hey." I moved across the room, and hugged and kissed him in greeting. Maybe for slightly longer than I would have done in normal circumstances. "My God! You're freezing!" I pressed the back of my hand against his cheek, to prove the point.

"I was running late, and I needed to get to Prosperini, as well - so I came on my bike. It's cold!" Prosperini was the local up-market liquor store. "Here," he said, and looking almost shy - he held out to me the bottle he was holding, which I took and unwrapped.

"Wow!" A bottle of Brunello. I was impressed it must have cost the equivalent of nearly his entire month's allowance! If I hadn't realized before, then this clearly indicated the importance Leo was attaching to this evening being a success. I fought down the urge to remonstrate at his having spent so much if the gesture felt appropriate for him, then it wasn't for me to do anything other than respect it. Which I did. Gratefully.

Another brief kiss, and I sent him off to hang up his jacket, "And bring a decanter from the pantry," I called after him. "This bottle of yours needs to be treated properly!"

He returned, and proper introductions were made. Evan scooted his chair aside, enough so that Leo could reach the window seat, where he was placed between the two of them, and I handed him a glass. Under the jacket, he'd been wearing a navy vee-necked pullover, and beneath that a buttoned down oxford shirt, in a deep pink, which set off the flush that was only now diminishing in his cheeks.

Everybody was very well trained, socially, and the conversation flowed easily. About traveling, and about the wedding (Leo rolled his eyes), and then it moved on to more interesting topics, such as films, and books, and places...things that were actually properly engaging, rather than merely small-talk. Soon, we moved into the dining room, where Leo was placed on the other side of the table, next to Dom, who was opposite me, and Evan sat on my right, with Leo opposite him. A host of candles of various sizes illuminated the table itself, and in the shadows beyond, the dimmed lights in the display cabinets against the walls gleamed against the variety of objects the cabinets contained. Conversation was both general, where we all joined in, and separate, when there were two different conversations going on at the same time, and it was either distinct conversations on either side of the table, or people speaking across the table with the person opposite them. The seating arrangement meant that at no point was I engaged in a separate conversation with Leo, but from time to time I would meet his glance across the table, and each time it happened he twinkled at me, clearly having a good time.

At the end of the first course, Evan got up to help me clear the plates, and we left the others at table as we went out to the scullery. "Leo. Is. Adorable!" was his comment to me, as soon as we were out of earshot.

"Only `adorable'?" I asked, since I honestly thought the word did nothing like justice to the reality. Evan considered.

"Well. `Smoking hot' would be my honest opinion but I guess I'm not allowed to say that." He looked pantomime-rueful, and I laughed.

"Oh, I don't know. I think `smoking hot' would be nothing less than the truth." I said, and he laughed with satisfied glee, and playfully slapped my arse as he squeezed past me on his way back out to the kitchen.

When we got back to the dining room, ready to serve the next course, it was to see that Dom had turned sideways in his chair, with his foot up on the rail of Leo's chair, and his hand resting lazily on the back of the chair. The conversation well, Dom's monologue, in truth seemed low, and intense, with Leo looking up and sideways at him and nodding from time to time; as he spoke, to punctuate a point, Dom touched Leo's hand...once, and then again. As we entered the room, he smoothly withdrew his hand, and turned to sit square to the table once more, giving a clear message that we'd interrupted some moment of intimacy, but with no sense on his part of any kind of awkwardness. I was intrigued. And interested.

And at the end of the main course, it was Leo who insisted on getting up, to help clear plates and to bring in the dessert. Once we were out in the kitchen, with the plates having been dealt with, I embraced him, from behind, and kissed the back of his neck. He clasped my hands, holding them, with his own. "Are you having a nice time?" I asked, and he nodded in affirmation, before turning, in my arms, and kissing me, his hands on my shoulders.

"Yes. For sure," he said. And there was something about his mood. He seemed I don't know excited. Maybe it was just that he'd drunk more wine than he was used to but whatever it was, there was a kind of heightened quality to his smile, as he kissed me once more. And his excitement was exciting to me, even without being able precisely to identify what it was.

At the end of dinner, it was Dom who helped to gather up the plates, and accompanied me out the kitchen. Only he and I were having coffee even all those years in California hadn't broken him of the habit, whilst Even was horrified at the idea of caffeine so late in the day, and Leo still resolutely resisted it at any time of day. Dom stood, and we chatted, as I sorted out for us cups, and cafetiere and we waited for the water to boil.

"You know," he said, casually, after we'd been talking about other things for a minute or so, "I'm not so sure that you're right about Leo not wanting to play." I looked at him, and raised my eyebrows in quizzical encouragement to continue. He chose his words carefully. "It seems to me," he said, "that, in fact, Leo might be quite ready to play; that he wouldn't have a problem with the idea...He's maybe a lot more mature...or at least interested...in that regard than you give him credit for." Not surprisingly, I was instantly caught by what he was suggesting.

"And, what exactly is it that makes you think so?" I asked, and he glanced briefly towards the dining room door, to check that we weren't being overheard. And then, it dawned on me. "Have you...made a pass at him?" I wasn't sure whether to be annoyed at the idea, or else to be turned on by it. But my cock, straining inside my jeans, made the decision for me.

"Not...in so many words," he said, carefully. "But, my knee and his thigh have been in contact, under the table, for quite a lot of the time during dinner. And he certainly didn't seem to find it ...unwelcome."

"And?" I sensed there was more.

"And...at one point, when you and Evan seemed busy, I was moved to reach down and to squeeze his leg, just in kind of a `friendly' way. And he kind of smiled at me, when I did it... in a kind-of `particular' way." I could imagine exactly what that smile would have looked like it was Leo's `horny' smile. I knew it very well. I rested my hands on the side of the kitchen counter, as his words sank in.

"Wow," was all I could manage.

"And, so...?" he posited. "Of course, it all depends on what you want," he continued smoothly. "It's perfectly clear that he needs your approval. The boy quite clearly worships the ground you walk on..." Well, that was good to hear, at least even if a bit of an exaggeration. "But, I think he's ready. And I think it would be hot as hell. And I think you think so, to." I couldn't disagree with that. "But put simply he needs your permission. No, he needs more than that...he needs you to facilitate it. To make it happen."

"Well. Put like that," I said, after a pause, and conscious all the while that I was pressing the erection in my jeans hard against the edge of the counter. "It would be selfish of me not to give him what he needs."

 

*

 

And so, it was at my suggestion that we all ended up upstairs in the Salone, after dinner had finally wound down, to sit around the fire. Dom and Evan went on ahead I'd told them where to find the matches, and the fire was already laid in the grate, ready to go while Leo and I dealt with the immediate detritus from dinner. Although, once all the glasses and dirty plates had been cleared away, I decided that it would be good enough merely to blow out the candles, and to leave the rest to be done in the morning. Not much was said between us as we worked I was entirely distracted by thoughts of what might be about to transpire, and Leo ...well, where Leo's thoughts were, I couldn't say. At the foot of the stairs, as I switched out the lights in the kitchen, I squeezed Leo's shoulder, and he turned towards me for another kiss. There seemed a clear understanding between us that the evening was far from over, and as he climbed the stairs in front of me, I slipped my hand between his legs, and lightly clasped the inside of his thigh, making contact with his balls as I did so. It was a familiar gesture between us but one which was generally a direct precursor to sex, which might perhaps have indicated to him the direction my thoughts were taking. I did it entirely without thinking, though, and he appeared to accept it in the same way, as being a perfectly natural thing to do. As we reached the top of the stairs, he slipped his hand into mine, and together we walked into the salone.

Evan was nowhere to be seen, and Dom stood in front of the blazing fire, apparently examining the haughty features of the portrait which peered down at him from above the mantelpiece. He'd turned off most of the lamps around the room, and apart from the firelight, the only illuminations were from the down-lighter which dimly picked out the colours of the old tapestry on the wall opposite the fireplace, and from the picture-light over a small engraving on the other side of the room. The curtains were drawn against the night outside, and the room was warm, and cozily seductive.

I drew Leo down onto the sofa on this side of the fireplace, and he relaxed readily against the arm which I'd stretched along the back of the sofa in readiness; my other hand slid up his thigh, and I gently pulled him close, and he turned to me for a kiss. He was closer to the heat of the fire than I was, and after a minute, he broke away sufficiently to be able to sit forward and to pull off his sweater, which he dropped on the floor, and I reached across and ran my fingers through his hair to smooth it back into place, where he'd mussed it in the process. Evan, in the meantime, had come back into the room barefoot by now, I noticed and he came and stood beside Dom, who slipped an arm around his waist as he did so. Then they too turned to each other and kissed, and I was struck again by quite how sexy they were together, somehow both sophisticated and raw all at the same time. I was conscious that Leo was watching them, as they continued to kiss, more deeply now, as Dom's hands began to roam the length of his boyfriend's back and down to the top of his thighs and I was perfectly aware that the entire performance was being done for Leo's benefit. His breathing was audible as he watched, and I slid my hand up and into his groin, and I began gently to grope and squeeze his hard cock through his trousers as he sat there, his expression slightly questioning, as he focused on the activity of the two in front of us. Dom's hands now slid up and under the back of Evan's shirt, where they roamed at will, and then Evan raised his arms so that his shirt could be pulled up, and off, and it was discarded on the floor. I undid two more of the buttons on Leo's shirt, and I slipped my hand inside, so that I could tease his hardened nipple while he took in the sight before him. He moaned slightly, at my touch. With no words spoken, Dom led Evan across to the other sofa, and then he sat, as Evan stood before him, the muscles of his back visible to us as he stood there, reflected in the firelight. Leo's breathing became laboured, and I reached down, and deftly unzipped his fly, and I slipped my hand inside. Through the fabric of his briefs, his cock was rigid.

Looking up at his face, Dom carefully undid Evan's belt, and then, one by one, the buttons of his fly. And then, he eased the tight jeans down, to reveal a pair of low-waisted white briefs, stretched tight across Evan's arse, and cut high on his hips; the elastic of the legs accentuating the firmness of the arse muscles beneath, and showing off the strength of Evan's thigh muscles before they disappeared into the legs of his jeans. Evan's underwear was exactly the style that I knew Leo found deeply sexy, and as the briefs came into view, a small sound came from the back of Leo's throat the sort of Leo-noise that I'd learned to associate with extreme excitement on his part. And when Evan, his jeans now down around his ankles, rested his knee on the edge of the sofa so that he could lean in and down, in order to meet Dom's kiss, the way that the sheer white fabric stretched even more tightly across Evan's arse gave rise to an audible whimper from Leo. By this time, my hand was pushed entirely inside his open fly, and through his underwear I held his balls and the base of his cock in a firm grasp, pressing the tips of my fingers against him beneath his balls, as I did so.

As Dom and Evan relaxed into a full-on make-out session, I turned Leo's face towards me, and as he hungrily met my kisses with his own, I rapidly worked on the remaining buttons of his shirt, and managed to get most of them undone in a matter of seconds, as my tongue wrestled with his. Once I'd done so, I lowered my mouth to his right nipple, and concentrated on licking and sucking and gently nipping at it, my hand back inside his trousers and clamped there the entire time, whilst he slumped against the back of the sofa and, in excited disbelief, watched what was happening on the other side of the room. When I raised my head once more, it was to see a lascivious gleam in his eye, and when I turned to follow his gaze, I saw that Dom and Evan, both now stripped to their underwear, were deep in a passionate kiss, Dom seated on the sofa and sprawled against the corner, while Evan half-stood, half-knelt above him, one foot on the floor and the knee of his other leg pushed between Dom's thighs. In the half shadow, Dom's briefs looked to a be a dark version of Evan's, cut in the same style, and even in this light it was possible to see the obscene outline of his very large erection as it poked up inside his underwear. Even as we watched, their kiss broke apart, and Dom looked across, directly at Leo who, when I turned to look at him, seemed to meet his gaze directly, and then Dom turned his gaze to meet my own.

From which I read that now, if ever, was the time when my facilitation duties were in play.

I stood, and, taking Leo by the hand, I gently pulled him to his feet. With his chin in my hand, I turned his face to mine, initially for a kiss, and then, standing there, his eyes met mine. Wordlessly, we looked at each other. I recognized in him the look of dazed lust which he sometimes got when his mind had taken him somewhere else entirely, and where he was operating on a level where his intellect was suspended, and he was instead just a receptive mass of nerve endings and hormonal impulses. And then, I placed my hand on his shoulder, and whilst exerting only the lightest pressure, I gently guided him the three paces across the room, to where the other two were waiting. Evan was standing straight, by now, with both feet on the floor, his abs and chest an image of marble perfection, and the pouch of his briefs distended impressively by the force of his rigid cock just barely contained within. As I delivered Leo to them, Evan's hand closed lightly on Leo's left wrist, while Dom reached up and gently took his right hand. My job done, for now, I retreated back to where I'd been sitting previously: for the next part of the evening's show, I intended to be in the front row of the stalls, and to enjoy the performance to the full.

For his part, Leo looked beautifully disheveled from all of the activity which had taken place between us on our own side of the room. His hair, gleaming where it reflected the light from the fire, was mussed, becomingly, and his shirt was mostly undone, with his shirt-tails pulled free of his trousers; his fly gaped open, and the pouch of his briefs was clearly visible, pushed out through the opening by the force of his erection beneath. From where I was sitting, the mounds of his arse stuck out deliciously, and they balanced to perfection the backward stance of his shoulders, which had only recently developed a new breadth and solidity from his exercise routine at the gymn.

Dom pulled Leo gently down and towards him, and in order to balance himself, Leo instinctively adopted the same position as Evan had done, with one knee balanced on the edge of the sofa, so that he could lean in and down and submit to the pressure from Dom's hand. And as Dom's other hand reached up, and gently caressed the back of Leo's neck, he pulled him in and kissed him, gently. Once. And then a second time, and that kiss extended ...and extended. And it was probably the hottest thing I have ever seen. I think I made an involuntary Leo-noise all of my own, as I watched, and in seconds I'd pulled off and discarded my shirt, and my jeans were undone and pushed down to my knees, and then to my ankles, as I groped myself, hard inside my underpants, not taking my eyes away from the image before me for a second.

When the kiss eventually broke, Evan took over, and raised Leo up to meet his kiss in turn, and as he explored Leo's mouth with his tongue, he reached to undo the remaining buttons on Leo's shirt, and then went on to explore, testing the response of Leo's nipples to his touch and running his hands over Leo's shoulders and back, beneath his open shirt. Dom, meanwhile, sat forward, and as Evan and Leo kissed, Dom undid Leo's belt, and then the button on his trousers, and as I watched, he lowered Leo's trousers to his knees. Beneath his shirt-tail I could see that Leo was wearing a pair of briefs that were striped horizontally in blue and grey, with a blue waistband and blue piping around the legs: it was a pair from amongst a whole selection of new underwear which I'd given him as part of his birthday present, and he'd not worn them before this evening.

As though choreographed, Dom untied Leo's shoelaces at the same time as Evan got Leo to hold out his hands, first one and then the other, so that he could carefully unbutton the cuffs of his shirt, and then, at the same time as Evan slid Leo's shirt off his shoulders and removed it from him, Dom took Leo's trousers all the way down, and managed to relieve him in one elegant move of trousers, boots and socks. So that he stood there, wearing just his briefs, and I sat up, alert to every detail, as I drank in the sight before me. Leo had been working out very regularly in the gymn for the past few months, and although I'd clearly noticed changes, it was as though it was only now that I suddenly saw those changes in a new light: a firmness and definition to his shoulders and arse which hadn't been there before, and pecs, and thigh muscles and biceps, all with just enough more bulk that he'd clearly moved on from being a boy, to becoming a young man. A really beautiful, and very hot, young man.

He stood between the two of them, as they gently and thoroughly explored every inch of him. As Dom kissed Leo, long and deep, Evan first of all nuzzled his neck, and then dropped down onto his haunches, and began to kiss and nibble the back of Leo's thighs, at the top, just below his butt, while his hand reached up and between Leo's legs, to push up inside his underwear, and grope and play with what was inside. And then, Evan was standing behind Leo, his arms around him, and he turned Leo's head for a sideways kiss, as Dom in turn squatted, kissing his way down Leo's body as he went, and pressed his face against Leo's groin, as he reached round and groped the muscles of Leo's arse, sliding his fingers inside and under the elastic of his underpants, in order to probe gently between his arse cheeks. Past masters at this kind of seduction, they moved with care, not rushing matters, and making sure that at no point did they lose contact with at least one of Leo's erogenous zones. They seemed to have a sixth sense for locating all of those places which I'd found to be particularly responsive on his body: his nipples, the inside of his thighs, the back of his neck, and of course the particularly sensitive area beneath his balls. They seemed to know just how far to go to keep him on edge, but without going too far, too fast, and as I watched them play him, I wanked myself almost distractedly more vicariously invested in what was happening to Leo than in any physical sensations of my own.

Eventually I have no idea after how much time Leo was turned by Evan to face in my direction, and Evan held him upright, standing behind him and with his hands holding Leo's arms behind his back, while Dom stood slightly to one side, his hand pushed down inside Leo's briefs, where he was very obviously working Leo's cock. And then, Evan let go of Leo's arms, and slid his hands into the top of Leo's underwear, one hand at each hip, and gently ran his hands down Leo's flanks, taking his underwear with him. Until the briefs were no longer sufficiently in contact with his thighs to stay in place, and they fell around his ankles, exposing Leo to me, naked and achingly hard. And as he surrendered himself to the intrusive attentions of Dom's and Evan's hands, he met my gaze, through half closed eyes, and he smiled sexily at me, with that limited part of his consciousness that was still in the room with us.

It was clearly an expression of invitation, and I got up, losing my jeans as I did so, and I moved over to face him, where I rested my hands on his hips. His face registered a complicated range of happiness and want, before he reached up to slide his arms around my shoulders, and to cling surprisingly tightly to me, and then he buried his face against my neck. As my hands slid, quite naturally, around to cup the mounds of his arse, he raised his knee, running it up and against the outside of my thigh, and he appeared to expect me to lift him, which I did. One hand under the top of each of his thighs, I hefted him up so that he instinctively wrapped his legs around my waist, and I held him to me, close, with his face still buried against my neck. It was clearly too much for Evan to resist Leo's arse being presented so invitingly to him, however, and he ran his finger down the exposed cleft between Leo's arse cheeks, before teasing his arsehole, and then pushing his finger deep inside. Leo gasped, in response, and then suddenly he was kissing me, his tongue working hungrily inside my mouth, and groaning even more deeply as a second finger joined the first, and I held him in position, keeping him open and available to the intrusion of Evan's fingers. Dom, standing beside us, gently caressed Leo's shoulders and the back of his neck, and at one point Leo broke the kiss with me, and Dom leaned in and replaced me, as I watched his tongue voraciously invading Leo's mouth. After he finally drew back, and stroked Leo's cheek, he turned to me.

"I think maybe it's Leo's bedtime," he murmured. And I nodded, and turned, Leo still in my arms, and I carried him, unresisting, towards our bedroom. Dom and Evan followed, and once we got into the room, Dom turned on one of the bedside lamps, and then immediately placed it down on the floor, so that the light was muted, and the room in warm shadow. I lowered Leo down onto the bed, on his back, and kissed his forehead, gently, and then his eyelids, his nose, his chin, his mouth. As I lay on the bed beside him, Leo turned and sought out my left nipple with his mouth, and he began to suckle. Evan, meanwhile had climbed up onto the bed, on Leo's other side, and I reached across to wrap my hand around the shaft of his cock, in front of my face and clearly on show through the fine white fabric of his briefs. He grunted, and thrust back against my hand, and then he reached for Leo's shoulder and gently levered him away from my nipple and turned him onto his back. From a foot away, I watched as Evan lowered the front of his briefs, and raised Leo's head, while with his other hand he angled his cock downwards to Leo's mouth. Leo parted his lips and accepted the head of Evan's cock, which he began to lick and suck as it was fed to him, little by little, breathing hard and making little Leo-noises as he did so. Dom, in the meantime, stood beside the bed, at Leo's feet. He took Leo's ankles and raised them, spreading his thighs and pushing his knees towards his chest as he did so. I took hold of Leo's right leg, behind the knee, to hold him in position, and once he'd firmly established his cock in Leo's mouth, Evan reached and did the same with Leo's other leg, leaving Leo lewdly presented for Dom's attention. He bent, and began to lick and nibble Leo's taint, eliciting a series of low excited moans, which grew more intense as Dom's tongue worked down and penetrated the bud of Leo's arse. His beard and moustache worked like fine sandpaper against the inside of Leo's cleft, already wet with saliva, and I could see that Leo was working his arse up and down in slight thrusting movements, in response.

When Dom stood and thrust his briefs roughly down, it was to reveal an erection of truly impressive size, and entirely in proportion with the rest of his physique: thick, and ramrod-straight, and probably an inch or two longer than mine. Had Leo been in a position to see it, then he would have had good cause for concern, since it was clear that Dom had every intention of fucking him with it. I managed to catch his eye, and I nodded at him, in the direction of the drawer in the nightstand where all of the `sex' paraphernalia is usually stored: amongst other things, lube, and poppers, and even some condoms. He opened the drawer and liberated what he wanted, and then passed the bottle of poppers across to me, to be applied as necessary. Somehow, without altering the position in which he was held, I managed to hook my arm around the back of Leo's knee, leaving my hand free to deal with the poppers, and in order that I could, Evan gently disconnected Leo from his cock, and turned Leo's face towards me. Obediently, he inhaled deeply, first one nostril and then the other, and then, for good measure, the first once more. As I swiftly re-sealed the bottle and stored it for future use, Leo began to tremble in response to the first hit of the poppers washing over him, and I turned and watched, my pulse racing, as Dom pulled Leo slightly towards him, so his arse was aligned with the edge of the bed. Dom carefully positioned the head of his shaft right against the tightly puckered hole, and, resting his hands against the back of Leo's thighs, he pushed down, and in, and as he penetrated Leo's tightness, Leo cried out, just once, and then set up a series of low, moaning whimpers, in time with Dom's thrusts. Blindly, he reached for my hand, and I laced my fingers through his; and with every thrust deep up inside him he tightened his grip momentarily on my hand. Evan, meanwhile, turned Leo's face back toward him, and once again he placed the head of his cock against Leo's mouth - and after a second, Leo began clumsily to suck once more, even as he was being jolted by the force of Dom's very physical fucking.

Clearly, though, it wasn't their intention to bring things to a head at this point, and after he'd fucked Leo for what seemed like an age, Dom slowed to a halt, and then stood between Leo's stretched thighs, sweaty and statuesque. "Babe?" he said, softly, to Evan. And Evan nodded, and climbed down off the bed and went around to join Dom, who carefully backed out of Leo, and in turn Evan took Leo's ankles in both his hands, and moved across so that he was standing exactly where Dom had been. Dom, meanwhile, climbed onto the bed and he assumed Evan's previous place, kneeling on Leo's other side from me. "Poppers?" he murmured, questioningly, and as I handed them to him, he nudged me in Evan's direction, who by this point had positioned himself exactly at Leo's arsehole, and I knelt up on the bed beside Leo's hips. I didn't watch as Dom applied the poppers, as Evan leant forward at exactly that moment to engage me in a kiss, but I could tell from Leo's altered breathing when they'd been applied. And so could Evan, as he immediately pushed against Leo's arse, already loosened from Dom's ministrations, and slipped right inside him in one go. Leo let out a low, keening moan, as Evan bottomed inside him, and I turned to see Dom bending low to kiss Leo deeply, even as he held his shoulders down against the bed. Leo's hand had never left mine, during all of this, and he squeezed for dear life as his body responded to the wild and efficient fucking he was being given. As he fucked, Evan reached for my other hand, which he took, and brought it down and placed it against the smooth hardness of Leo's buttock, so that the tips of my fingers came into contact with the point where Evan's shaft was penetrating Leo, and I could feel Evan's cock pulsing as it moved in and out of Leo's tightly wrinkled hole. It was almost too much for me.

"Jesus! God!" I exclaimed, and Evan pulled me back into another soul-searching kiss. Which continued until he, too, slowed his actions, and eventually came to a halt.

"Your turn," he said, in a soft voice, and waited as I climbed down and stood beside him, as he in turn passed Leo's ankles to me to hold, and I looked down at the clear, obscene puffiness around Leo's ravaged arsehole and my hard cock twitched in involuntary response, at the sight. Smoothly, as I stood there, Evan slid my underwear down, right to my ankles, and I stepped out of them and kicked them aside.

Evan moved back up onto the bed and into my previous position, beside Leo, and he and Dom now lay, one on each side of Leo, holding and caressing him as his loud and ragged breathing began to calm down. First Dom and then Evan kissed him gently on the lips, and then once again he was given a hit of poppers.

He lay between them, and as the head of my cock nudged beneath his balls, he looked up, and his gaze unwaveringly met and held mine. I held his ankles in each of my hands, and as I pushed his knees down and against him, my cock slipped easily inside him, without having to be guided by my hand, and I knew I wasn't going to last any time at all. The heat inside him, around my cock, was intense, and I could tell from his movements that the fucking he'd already received had left him hyper-sensitive to the effect my cock was having on him. He moaned gently, as I moved back and forth, gradually fucking myself more deeply into him, and as he moaned, Evan reached down and began to wank Leo's cock. Dom leaned in, to suck on Leo's right nipple, and as he wanked him, Evan gently and repeatedly kissed the side of Leo's face. Leo's moans rose in intensity as I increased my rhythm, and Evan's hand on Leo's cock kept pace with my quickening thrusts. Until, I could feel the muscles of his arse suddenly tightening around the base of my cock, as he lifted his arse up and away from the bed, and he let out a strangled cry, as Evan's hand milked out of him half a dozen ropes of cum which managed copiously to cover all three of them, with a generous quantity decorating both Leo's and Dom's faces, and streams of it across Leo's chest and shoulders.

It was too much for me, with so many of my senses being tested to bursting point at the same time. And with two or three terminal thrusts deep, deep inside Leo, I

came, explosively, inside him, and I juddered to a final, sweating, shuddering orgasm.

 

*

 

"Are you ok?" I asked. Leo was snuggled down, cuddled against my side, with the bedclothes pulled up around him so that only his face was visible. His eyes were closed; he looked ...tired?....exhausted?....well, yes...but also...calm.

"Mm," he confirmed. Dom and Evan had excused themselves to go to their own room, shortly after Leo's and my- rather dramatic climax. They'd said they had some `matters to attend to', and had crept off, leaving us alone together. And after a cursory clean-up operation, I'd manoeuvred Leo beneath the covers, where I'd joined him.

"It wasn't...too much?" Even with his eyes closed, he appeared to be considering my question.

"No," he said, eventually, "it wasn't too much. I don't think, anyway." A pause. "Although...Michael?"

"Yes?" He was almost asleep, and we were speaking barely above a whisper.

"Promise me that you'll never grow a beard?" I smiled. Another pause. "It's really scratchy against my bum..."

"Ok," I said. "I'll try to remember". But I could tell from his breathing that he was already asleep.

So, I reached across, careful not to disturb him, and I turned out the light.