Exploring Limits #1
Jonathan Braedon's successful acting career and consideration for his young son have always kept him from acting on his attraction to men. Newly cast as King Arthur in a BBC miniseries, he manages to conceal his interest in co-stars Devon Aldridge and Kit Webster-but Kit and Devon are just as interested in him. Rather than fighting over Jonathan, the two decide to seduce him together. Jonathan might have been able to hide his attraction to Devon and Kit individually... but together, they're too much to resist.The three find themselves deciding what they want out of their lovemaking and their relationship, exploring options they'd never before considered or thought they'd left behind. Add a touch of kink to the mix, and Jonathan, Devon, and Kit discover that the perceived limits of the past are really just the beginning.
Stretching Limits #2
Having made a commitment to see where their relationship leads, actors Jonathan Braedon, Devon Aldridge, and Kit Webster are taking advantage of a long weekend break from filming the miniseries Camelot to escape their castmates and head for the coast of France. They're already exploring options they'd never before considered, and at a cottage with a private beach, they'll stretch the limits of their growing intimacy and introduce a new level of kinkiness to their loveplay.
Refining Limits #3
Their relationship strengthened by testing and stretching their limits during their beach weekend, Jonathan Braedon, Devon Aldridge, and Kit Webster encounter new challenges: the cast and director of Camelot have discovered their still-shaky relationship and an unexpected separation throws Devon and Kit together without Jonathan as a buffer, forcing them to face the reality of the attraction that has developed just between them.
Breaking Limits #4
Just when castmates Jonathan Braedon, Devon Aldridge, and Kit Webster think they've found a balance in their three-sided relationship, a specter from Devon's past returns to haunt him. The Dom who taught Devon about BDSM represents everything about the scene Devon fears, and he's now on the Camelot set with every intention of breaking up the lovers, reclaiming his sub, and leaving chaos in his wake.
Transcending Limits #5
When Camelot castmates Jonathan Braedon, Devon Aldridge, and Kit Webster admit their love for each other, it doesn't magically eliminate every issue in their evolving romance. Devon, free of the demons from his past, still hesitates to resume a dominant role in their lovemaking, and Kit's discovery of a kink Jonathan would have preferred to keep hidden leads to an explosion that might tear the threesome apart.
No Limits #6
As the end of filming the miniseries Camelot nears, lovers Jonathan Braedon, Devon Aldridge, and Kit Webster are trying to find a way to deal with their imminent separation. Each man suggests a special way to mark their commitment to each other, but will promises and memories be enough to sustain their relationship when roles and family responsibilities pull them apart?
Exploring Limits #1
“THAT is one fine hunk of man,” Kit Webster commented, plopping down beside his co-star, Devon Aldridge, on the grass of the Camelot location set. “Too bad he’s as straight as they come.”
“Aye,” Devon agreed, watching Jonathan Braeden, their newly arrived King Arthur, practicing sword moves, the heavy leather of the costume doing nothing to hide the hard planes of his body. “Though ’twould be a pure pleasure to introduce him to what he’s missing.”
“And I suppose you think you’re the one to do it,” Kit teased. “You think you could convince him that he’s been playing the wrong side of the field for, what, twenty years now?” Even as he scoffed, he had to admit the idea was tempting. Oh, the things he would do to the American if only he were given permission!
Devon looked at the younger man appraisingly. “Why not?” he drawled, thinking that given the dearth of recent relationships Jonathan had confessed to him as they’d become friends, seducing him to the world of men might not be as difficult as it sounded. “He already likes me,” he added teasingly, waggling his eyebrows. “And I can be very… persuasive.”
“Hey!” Kit protested. “I saw him first. That’s not fair!” Granted, he hadn’t said anything about his attraction to anyone, but the moment he’d first seen Jonathan, he’d fallen in lust with the older man. In the intervening weeks, that lust had been joined by another, purer emotion as he'd discovered everything he could about the object of his fascination. Jonathan wasn't just an actor, although he was a damn fine one. He was also an amateur photographer who would make a lot of professionals jealous, and an incredibly talented pianist and guitarist who wrote his own lyrics and melodies. Just yesterday, Kit had found out he also painted when he had spare time, although he hadn't seen any examples of it yet. Niall Clifton, the director of the BBC miniseries on King Arthur’s court, had chosen well when he chose Jonathan as the once and future king. Despite the issue of his accent, the other actor had stepped into Arthur’s shoes as if born to wear them.
“Well, what do you think would be fair?” Devon retorted. “Wrestle for him? Draw straws?” He realized that any outcome which involved Jonathan and Kit together without him was completely unacceptable. Looking at the tempting young man again, he was struck by a delicious idea. “We could always share him.”
Share him…. Now that was an idea that had not crossed Kit’s mind. He left off staring at Jonathan long enough to look at Devon, trying to decide if his passion for the American could expand to include his fellow Englishman. His eyes wandered over the blond’s long, lean form, another picture of masculine perfection. He was pretty sure Devon and Jonathan were of an age, into their thirties but not pushing forty yet. Every inch of Devon’s body, at least the bits Kit had caught glimpses of as they changed into and out of costume in the trailer they shared, was hard muscle. A blond beard framed a square face, though Kit had seen enough publicity pictures of Devon out of character over the years to suspect the beard was an affectation for Lancelot’s character. Either way, it drew attention to the line of his jaw and his high cheekbones and highlighted full lips that Kit wouldn’t say no to kissing. Yes, he decided, he could develop an interest in Devon too. “So how do we do this?” Kit asked. “He’s never shown the slightest sign of being interested in men.”
Devon hid a smile at the smoldering look Kit gave him, letting his eyes return instead to the King, who had stopped to lean on his sword and push back the shaggy hair from his eyes. Oh, this would be a pleasure indeed, he thought, already imagining removing the sweat-stained garments and running his hands over…. Reining in his thoughts with difficulty, he considered the best way to proceed.
“We’re going for drinks once he’s done. Why don’t you join us?” Devon suggested. He was willing to play it by ear and see where the night would lead.
Kit nodded. “Where are you meeting?” If they were going to seduce Jonathan, he wanted to change clothes, at the very least. He had just the outfit in mind: tight jeans, too small T-shirt. If Jonathan was the least bit interested, it would definitely catch his eye.
“Going to tart yourself up?” Devon grinned. Kit was a bit younger than Devon’s usual taste, but his slender frame and long limbs were certainly no hardship to look at, especially in the skin-tight and skin-baring outfits he favored when out of costume. “Nothing up to your usual standards, just our regular pub in town.”
Kit scowled at Devon, both for the comment and for the boring choice of location. Then he reconsidered. The three of them, snuggled into a booth… there was potential in that situation. “Leave my clothing choices up to me,” Kit suggested. “Shall I meet you there or at the trailer?”
Devon considered for a moment. “The trailer,” he decided. “We can take one car, make it easier for all of us to wind up in the same place at the end of the evening.” He winked at the younger man. “And then we’ll see just how… flexible… our King is.”
“Shit, Devon,” Kit said. “You keep it up with images like that and I’m not going to survive until the end of the evening. I’ll be at the trailer in half an hour. Is that soon enough?”
“If I can convince the man of steel over there to call it a day,” Devon agreed. “He’ll need to shower, but that won’t take him long.” He clapped Kit on the shoulder, then pushed to his feet, and headed over to where Jonathan showed every sign of being ready to continue for another few hours. Devon smiled to himself. He had high hopes of enjoying Jonathan’s stamina in other, more pleasurable activities soon.
Kit stood as well, hurrying in the opposite direction. He would leave it to Devon to get Jonathan to the trailer and ready to go to the pub. He had his own preparations to make.
Movement in his peripheral vision made Jonathan turn in time to see Devon and Kit separating, Devon coming toward him and Kit disappearing to some unknown destination. With a sigh, Jon lowered the sword and waited to see what Devon had to say. As he watched his friend walk closer, he felt an uncomfortable stirring in his lower body. Damn, he realized, it’s been so long, I’m even starting to find Devon attractive. His eyes flicked up to Kit’s retreating back. He wasn’t even going there. Kit was too young for him. Period.
As he walked toward his fellow actor, Devon watched a bead of sweat roll down the side of Jonathan’s face, trickle through the scruffy beard and continue down the tanned throat. A wave of desire rolled through him, mixed with something deeper. He’d felt an instant connection with Jonathan as soon as they met, and until now he’d been convinced it was only friendship. Suddenly he was looking forward to sharing much more.
“Hey, Devon,” Jonathan called in greeting. “Come to remind me of our date tonight?” As soon as the joking words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. He didn’t want to put ideas in Devon’s head. He was perfectly comfortable with them being friends. And the fluttering in his stomach was just something he’d eaten at lunch that hadn’t agreed with him. Yes. Exactly.
“About ready to call it a day, mate?” Devon replied, clasping Jonathan’s shoulder. “You’ve worn me out just watching you! Let’s get ready to head to the pub—I convinced Percival to join us for once. Be good for him to hang with the real men for a change instead of always hanging out with the Orkney brothers.”
Jonathan gulped. Drinks with Devon and Kit. Not a good idea in his current state. Oh well, nothing he could do about it now. “Sounds great,” he said with forced joviality. “I’m ready to relax, that’s for sure. Bert’s sword exercises have about worn me out today.”
“Well, get yourself cleaned up and we’ll see what we can do about helping you relax,” Devon promised, steering them back toward the trailer. The feel of the sweaty body below his arm had already started the heat building in his groin. Waiting in the trailer while Jonathan showered, imagining the cool water flowing over his naked body, was going to make Devon horny as hell.
Jonathan let Devon guide him back to the trailer, though he knew the way, wondering a little at Devon’s sudden closeness. He wondered even more when he realized the effect it was having on him. He was going to have to get himself under control or he’d never survive an evening with both Devon and Kit, particularly if Kit was being his usual touchy-feely self.
“Kit’s going to meet us back here in half an hour,” Devon added, letting his hand drop as they reached the door of the trailer. He stayed close enough to Jonathan that their bodies brushed together as they entered. With an innocent grin, he plopped onto the ragged couch and tried to will his growing arousal under control.
“I guess that means I need to shower,” Jonathan said, relieved to have an excuse for a moment away from Devon’s suddenly looming presence. He was tempted to use the cover of the water to jack off so he’d be rid of his nagging erection, but he wasn’t sure the walls of the trailer were thick enough to block the noise, even with the water running. “I’ll be back out in a few minutes.”
Sharing a trailer with Jonathan meant that Devon had plenty of opportunities to see the other man in various stages of dress and undress. While he’d always appreciated the American’s striking looks, he hadn’t seriously thought about him as a potential lover—until now. Watching until the door to the shower closed behind him, Devon knew he was going to find it hard to think of anything else.
In the shower, Jonathan rested his head against the cool tiles. He had no idea what had come over him today. Yes, he was horny, but that was his normal state. At home, he had an impressionable young boy watching his every move, and here, off set he was a “movie star” and he refused to capitalize on that just to get laid. On set, the scarcity of women was overwhelming, leaving him with few choices there either. Maybe that was why he found himself eyeing his male co-stars more than usual. They were all he saw, day in and day out. This was ridiculous, though. He couldn’t just go and proposition one of them. They needed to work together, for Christ’s sake! He’d never let himself act on an attraction to a co-star. Especially when they were male.
As Devon knew it would, hearing Jonathan moving around in the shower led to a series of mental images that soon had his jeans uncomfortably tight. Closing his eyes for a moment, he stroked his hand over the growing hardness, imagining himself joining Jonathan in the cramped cubicle, their wet bodies sliding against each other…. He drew a deep breath and stood abruptly, pacing about as he brought himself under control. He didn’t want to frighten Jonathan away… and it wouldn’t be fair to Kit to start without him.
Finishing his shower, Jonathan dried off quickly and wrapped the towel around his waist, cursing inwardly at having left his clothes out in the main part of the trailer. Now he had no choice but to walk back out to where Devon was with nothing more than a loose towel to hide his body’s antics. Hoping Devon would be absorbed in something, he took a deep breath and made a beeline for his clothes.
Before he could even grab his boxers, the door to the trailer bounced open loudly and Kit breezed in, looking sinful in the tightest jeans and T-shirt Jonathan had seen him wear to date. “I’m here,” he announced. “Let the fun begin!”
Jonathan gulped, wondering just what kind of fun Kit had in mind.
Stretching Limits #2
DEVON ALDRIDGE opened the door to his closet and ran his hand along the hangers, trying to decide what to pack for the weekend. Who was he kidding? He was trying to work up the nerve to pull out his leathers. For reasons he never fully explored, he kept them with him, just as he did his toys, even when he wasn’t in a relationship that needed them. He wondered now what that said about him.
It was far too early in his relationship with Jonathan and Kit for that dynamic. In fact, he wasn’t sure if they’d ever be ready for it. Surprisingly enough, it was Jonathan who’d shown signs of interest, though Devon wasn’t sure the American would be satisfied as a sub for long. Jonathan reminded Devon of himself when he’d first been brought into the BDSM scene. That thought would lead him in a direction he didn’t want to go, and he forced it aside. Kit, now, had stated more than once his aversion to intentional pain, his unease at the idea of submission. Remembering the distress he and Jonathan had caused their younger lover once already sent a stab of guilt lancing through him. He couldn’t risk that again, wouldn’t risk anything that might threaten what was building between the three of them.
Devon hesitated to put a name to their relationship that had started on the set of Camelot, not when they hadn’t talked about anything more than the present. Sure, they’d gotten tested and gotten rid of the condoms—that memory brought a rakish smile back to his face—but that was more about the practicalities of now than it was about making long-term promises. While they were together, they’d be faithful, would protect each other by those choices, but they hadn’t talked about beyond filming. It was easy to forget, in the middle of such a long shoot, that it would end eventually, but Devon had been on enough sets, enough shoots, to know the illusion was just that.
His thoughts turned back to one film in particular and the aftermath of its ending…. No. No, he refused to relive it again or give it any more power over him. Pushing hangers aside roughly, he reached to the back of the closet and pulled out the supple black leather garments. Maybe it was time to associate them with more pleasant memories.
His hands shook as he stripped out of his jeans and sweater and replaced them with the soft leather. The last time he had worn them still haunted him, still colored so much of his perceptions about dominance, about submission. He was no longer that man, though. He had learned the true meaning of giving and taking since then, but not in that context. Things are different this time, he reminded himself. This time, I can control what happens. He glanced back at the toy box he had packed earlier, knowing what he had included and what he had deliberately left out. Restraints, yes. Whips, no. Not when Kit had said he didn’t want pain.
His skin prickled with goose bumps, each tiny individual golden hair standing upright as he smoothed the butter-soft leather over it. He reached for the fastenings of the trousers and realized how badly his hands were trembling.
“Bloody hell!” he cursed, drawing a deep breath. You can do this. You can control this. Knowing it was probably a mistake but needing something to numb the remembrance, he reached up to the closet shelf for the bottle of scotch he kept there. Not bothering with niceties like a glass, he unscrewed the cap and took a long pull, letting the fiery liquor burn down his throat.
Fortified with liquid courage, he tied the laces quickly, before he could think anymore, stuffed the bottle back in the closet, grabbed his gym bag with the toy box and some toiletries in it, and all but ran out the door. Anything to get away from the memories.
SHIFTING the car into gear, Jonathan Braedon checked the mirrors before driving off the ferry ramp and through the crowded traffic of the Calais docks. The cottage Devon had rented was only about an hour’s drive down the Picardy coast, according to his GPS. Kit had lobbied for taking the train from London, pointing out that it was much faster and that once they got through the Channel Tunnel they could transfer from the Eurostar to a line that offered private compartments, the latter observation made with a leer making it perfectly clear how he hoped to take advantage of that privacy. Devon, somewhat surprisingly, had argued for taking the ferry instead, claiming (rightly, as it turned out) that the view sailing from the White Cliffs of Dover wasn’t to be missed. Jonathan didn’t have a preference either way, but when it turned out that the seaside village where they would be staying was too small for train service, it made more sense to take his car than to rent another when they landed in France.
Once he was safely on the road, Jonathan couldn’t help but glance in the mirror again, this time to check the view of the back seat. His eyes lingered appreciatively on the image of Devon’s long, lean body encased in tight black leather. He was going to have to watch his speed on the way to the cottage. The anticipation was already tempting him to break the rules.
When Devon showed up at his house that morning, Jonathan’s first thought had been to jump the Brit right then, and if Kit’s drooling was any indication, the younger man had felt the same way. The leather clung to every bulge, every plane of Devon’s body, outlining, highlighting, and drawing attention to his incredible physique. Jonathan wanted to run his fingers over every last inch.
He might have done it, too, except Devon had seemed distracted somehow. He would almost have said uncomfortable, if it were anyone but Devon. Oh, the blond had smiled and laughed at Kit’s exaggerated leering and cheeky comments, but something in his eyes didn’t match the rest of his expression. Maybe he was just tired; it had been a grueling week of filming, and they all needed to unwind. Jonathan hoped that was all it was. He’d just have to be sure to lavish enough pleasure on Devon to banish that look from his eyes.
And if that wasn’t all it was, if, heaven forbid, something else was wrong, he’d coax and cajole until Devon told them what it was, and then he’d make sure they made it better. He had no idea what he and Kit could do to help if it was something wrong at home, but at the very least, they’d make sure Devon knew he wasn’t alone.
Thinking about all the things he could do to show Devon how much he meant to him was making Jonathan’s jeans uncomfortably tight. He glanced in the mirror again at the triangle of golden skin showing through the opening of the leather jacket. He’d start by slowly peeling the jacket open, tasting every inch of flesh as he revealed it and worshipping the tight pink nipples until the Brit was begging for more.
Then he’d slip the jacket down Devon’s shoulders, trapping his arms in the sleeves, and lick all the lines of the blond’s six-pack, tracing every muscle. If Devon asked nicely, maybe, just maybe, he’d take the jacket the rest of the way off so Devon had his hands free to return the pleasure. Then again, the idea of Devon at his mercy was incredibly tempting.
With his arms trapped, Devon wouldn’t be able to stop Jonathan from loosening the ties of the leather pants, catching the fine golden hairs in his teeth, and tugging at them, just hard enough that Devon would feel the skin of his abdomen pull taut. He’d push the leather aside just enough to bare the other man’s hipbones and trace them with his tongue, dipping just a little lower each time, breathing in the heady scent of Devon’s arousal as he teased his way closer to it.
Jonathan glanced in the mirror again, his sensual daydream faltering at the reflection of Devon’s brooding expression as he stared blankly out the window. Something was definitely wrong. Devon had been Jonathan’s friend before he was his lover, but even when he was fighting through problems with his estranged wife, Jonathan hadn’t seen Devon look this distressed. He wondered if he should say anything now, or if it would be better to wait until they got to the cottage and he could focus on Devon completely. He glanced over to the passenger seat at Kit, wondering if the younger man had also noticed Devon’s behavior.
Kit Webster, Percival to Jonathan’s King Arthur and Devon’s Lancelot in the Camelot miniseries, had taken the front seat next to Jonathan when they left on their trip for one very simple reason: if he sat in the back seat with Devon, he wouldn’t have made it to their destination before molesting the man. Kit had been called sex on legs more than once, usually with a bit of teasing thrown in, but he knew, as surely as he knew his own name, that he had never looked as good as Devon did in the skin-hugging leather pants and loose leather jacket.
The only concern he had at this point, besides getting to the cottage as quickly as possible, was the frown he saw on Devon’s face any time he thought the other two weren’t watching. Kit had seen a lot of different expressions on Devon’s face, both when he was acting and when he was not, but this one was new; more introspective, more—Kit hated to use the word—desolate. And that worried him almost as much as the leather aroused him. Whatever was going on in Devon’s head, it wasn’t good, and that didn’t bode well for their vacation. Kit hid a frown of his own. As soon as they got to the cottage, they were going to get to the bottom of this so they could all relax and enjoy the time off.
Devon realized he’d been staring out the window for almost an hour and couldn’t describe the scenery they’d passed if his life depended on it. He also realized that both his companions were unusually quiet. Not that Jonathan was one for small talk, but it was unlike Kit not to have something to chatter about. Hoping he hadn’t infected them with his own black mood, Devon tried again to shake off the unwanted memories. “How much longer ’til we get there, Jon?”
“If you start asking if we’re there yet, I’ll turn this car around right now,” Jonathan answered, relieved to see Devon pull out of his private world and determined to lighten the mood. “The village is just ahead, and it should be easy to find the cottage since it’s right on the beach.”
“And not a moment too soon,” Kit quipped, turning to look at Devon in the backseat. In a deliberate effort to bring a smile to his lover’s face, he added, “I’m so worked up just thinking about you in those leathers, mate, that I could just about come sitting here!”
“You’ll come when I let you,” Devon snapped without thinking, realizing what he’d done an instant later when two sets of eyes widened in shock at his commanding tone. “Bloody hell,” he groaned, dropping his head into his hands.
Making a final turn as the GPS announced they had reached their destination, Jonathan pulled into the driveway of the cottage and killed the engine. “Devon?” he demanded, turning anxiously in his seat. “What’s wrong? Let us help you, whatever it is.”
The words Kit wanted to say froze in his throat. He wanted to assure Devon that he loved him, that whatever the problem was, it wouldn’t touch Kit’s emotions, but he had no idea if the sentiment would be welcomed. Instead, he added his plea to Jonathan’s. “We’re here for you, Devon. You know that, right?”
The tightness in Devon’s chest eased a little at the concern evident in Jonathan’s voice and Kit’s words. He was not with Robert this time. They cared for him, maybe as much as he was growing to care for them. And he knew he owed them an explanation for his behavior.
“I’ve been a right bastard all morning, haven’t I?” he muttered. “Let’s go inside, and I’ll try to explain.”
Kit opened the door and climbed out of the car, stopping at the boot to grab his bag. On impulse, he grabbed the other two as well. The sooner they got inside, the sooner they could deal with whatever was bothering Devon.
As soon as Devon had unlocked the door and it closed behind them, Kit dropped the bags and took Devon’s head in his hands. He stared intently into the troubled green eyes for a few moments before deliberately closing his mouth over his lover’s and kissing him thoroughly. When he pulled back, he smiled. “When you’re ready to talk, we’re ready to listen.”
Jonathan wrapped his arms around Devon, pulling the blond back gently into his embrace and kissing the strip of golden skin above the collar of the black leather jacket. “There’s nothing you can say that will change the way we feel about you,” he added, knowing that for himself, at least, those feelings had grown far deeper than mere physical attraction.
For a moment, Devon let himself be soothed by the kisses, drawing strength from the two men who had already given so much to him. He turned his head to meet Jonathan’s lips, opening himself to the American’s warm, moist kiss.
“Trust us, Devon,” Jonathan urged. “You don’t always have to be the strong one.”
“Tell us what’s wrong,” Kit encouraged. He took a step forward so that Devon was caught between his body and Jonathan. He stretched up to join his mouth to the two already connected, bringing the three of them together in this, as he wanted them to be together in all things.
Bracketed securely between his two lovers as they kissed him, Devon realized he no longer felt angry or guilty or fearful. He felt safe. He felt… loved. Raising a hand to cup each man’s cheek, he drew back and smiled ruefully. “Let’s sit down, yeah? And I’ll try to explain.”
Kit drew back enough so they could move to the couch, but he had no intention of moving any farther away from Devon than that. Whatever was on Devon’s mind, it was clearly bothering him, and Kit wanted to be close enough to provide physical comfort along with whatever words he needed to say.
Once they were seated on the overstuffed sofa, Devon glanced at the men on either side of him, wondering how much he should tell them. Enough to explain his uneasiness, certainly, but there were some things he wasn’t ready to share, things they didn’t need to hear. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been… involved… during filming,” he began, knowing there was no comparison between then and now.
The bleak expression in Devon’s eyes tore at Jonathan’s heart. He was shocked at how much he wanted to find the person responsible for putting that expression there and make them pay for hurting Devon. He ran a hand down the collar of the blond’s jacket, tracing the transition from cool leather to warm golden flesh. “Does this—does the leather have something to do with that involvement?” he asked.
Devon nodded grimly. “It was nothing like this,” he admitted. “It started as just sex, but he—” Devon stopped, unable to force himself to choke out the name. “The… other bloke… he—we….” He trailed off as the memories ensnared him.
Kit didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to know, but something told him they needed to. “What did he do, Devon?” he pressed. “You need to tell us so we don’t accidentally set you off.”
“It was BDSM, wasn’t it?” Jonathan asked gently. He might have no experience with that type of relationship himself, but he was widely read enough to recognize the indicators. “He abused you.”
Kit didn’t need to hear Devon’s confirmation. The anguish on the blond’s face was all the confirmation he needed. “Fucker,” he muttered under his breath, anger filling him at the thought of anyone hurting his lover.
“I was willing,” Devon admitted. “Eager, even, in the beginning. I wanted to give in to him, to let him teach me, control me. But then he decided that my being a sub wasn’t enough. I don’t know why. Maybe he just got bored. Maybe he got off on watching me dominate someone else. But I started to feel uncomfortable. I didn’t like the person I was becoming.” He stared at his hands, scrubbing at the knuckles, his voice beginning to crack. “Every time, he demanded more, from both of us, before he’d let us… before he’d… and I—I couldn’t stand to look at myself in the fucking mirror anymore, you know?”
Kit didn’t know. He didn’t know at all, but he couldn’t get past the image of Devon’s shattered self-esteem. “That’s not who you are,” he said softly. “You’ve never been that way with us. I refuse to believe you’ve just been pretending. You wouldn’t have been so upset over the misunderstanding we had if you were that man.”
“I thought I’d got past it,” Devon insisted, squeezing his hands together harder as he fought to maintain his control. “Thought it was behind me. Went back to women, got married. Got divorced. Got married again. Going to wind up divorced again.” The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “And then I met you two. And it’s been so bloody good, so much more than I ever… and I thought maybe I could wear these again, that it would be safe.” He shook his head bitterly. “I fucked up then, so badly, when it didn’t even matter. If I fuck things up now, with you….”
Jonathan gently pulled Devon’s twisting hands apart and held them in his own. “Devon,” he commanded, putting a hint of King Arthur’s steel in his voice. “Devon, you’re not going to fuck up. You’re not going to hurt us. We trust you, we—” He bit back the admission of love, realizing he could only speak for himself, at least in that regard. “We aren’t going to let anything from the past come between us. In fact,” he said, looking to Kit for confirmation, “I think it’s time we gave you some new memories to go with these leathers.”
Nodding, Kit reached for their joined hands, closing his own over them as well. He scooted closer to Devon’s side, pressing against him. “What do you say, Dev? Can we make love to you while you’re wearing these sexy clothes? You won’t regret it. I promise.” He punctuated his request with teasing kisses to the side of Devon’s neck.
Jonathan bent forward to run his tongue down the wedge of skin between the supple leather lapels of Devon’s jacket. “This bit has been tempting me all morning,” he admitted, opening his mouth to suck at the tender flesh.
Devon’s head fell back against the sofa cushions as he gave himself over to his lovers’ attentions. “Fuck, yes,” he groaned as Jonathan’s teeth tugged at the hairs sprinkled down the exposed skin of his chest.
Kit smiled and reached down to cup the unapologetic bulge pushing at the front of the leather pants. “This is what’s been tempting me.” Without waiting for permission, he began undoing the fastenings on the trousers, pulling the plackets apart so he could get his hand inside, around Devon’s erection.
Jonathan’s hands went to the jacket zipper, inching it down slowly, his mouth following the trail of skin that was revealed. “You are so fucking sexy like this, Devon,” he rasped between kisses and love bites. “I nearly ran off the road watching you in the mirror on the way here, thinking about tasting you this way.”
Kit agreed completely with Jonathan’s sentiment and with the idea of telling Devon. “I got hard as soon as I got a glimpse of you,” he murmured, his hand starting to work on Devon’s cock. “Just seeing the way the leather clung to you had me wanting to touch you.”
Devon arched his back, offering himself completely to his lovers’ touch. He wanted to tell them that he was theirs, but Kit’s hand and Jonathan’s mouth were rapidly taking away his power of coherent speech. He threaded a hand into Jonathan’s sandy-brown hair, guiding his head lower as the other hand reached to pull Kit’s head toward his for a kiss.
Kit moved in eagerly for the kiss Devon was offering. He had started this relationship because of his interest in Jonathan, but his attraction to Devon had long since grown equally strong, and he relished the opportunity to make that clear to him. He slid his tongue between Devon’s lips, eager for another taste of his lover. His hand set up a steady rhythm, pumping Devon’s erection with deliberate firmness.
Jonathan could feel Devon’s muscles trembling beneath him as he kissed his way down the toned abdomen. He paused to tease at the dip of Devon’s navel, lapping at the depression with his tongue before closing his teeth around the circumference and sucking hard enough to leave a mark. “Look at you,” he murmured, glancing back up Devon’s body, whose chest glistened with Jonathan’s saliva and hips pushed into Kit’s palm as they shared a heated kiss. “You look so beautiful like this, letting us love you….”
Devon rocked into Kit’s fist, moaning against the younger man’s mouth at Jonathan’s words and that incredibly sinful voice. He pushed his tongue deeper into Kit's mouth and tugged at Jonathan's hair, trying to urge their other lover to join the kiss. Jonathan was taking his time, though, thoroughly laving every bit of skin along the way. When he latched onto a nipple and suckled it, the pleasure was so intense Devon shuddered between them.
Kit gave Devon possession of his mouth, not even trying to pull away to give voice to his own words of appreciation. Words weren’t his strong suit anyway. He’d let his actions express his feelings. When he felt Devon shake beneath his hand, he knew their gestures were meeting with his approval. The movement of his hand intensified, trying to push Devon toward the edge, to let a surfeit of pleasure wash away the unpleasant memories.
Jonathan smiled to himself as he felt Devon tremble against them. His own erection was pressing uncomfortably inside his jeans, but he tried to ignore it as he licked his way across Devon’s chest toward his other nipple. “That’s right, Devon,” he husked between kisses. “Show us how good it feels; show us we’re giving you pleasure.” He bit down on the pink nub and tugged hard before releasing it. “Let us watch you come….”
Devon writhed beneath Kit’s hand. He was so close, so fucking close. All he needed was a little more, a little harder, a little faster…. Then Jonathan bit his nipple and urged him to come, and Devon lost it, crying out into Kit’s kiss, pulsing a stream of hot come over his stomach.
As soon as he felt Devon tense beneath them, Jonathan slid down to lap up the creamy fluid from Devon’s cock and Kit’s hand. He licked Devon’s stomach as the blond shuddered through waves of aftershocks. When he had cleaned the sated Brit thoroughly, he slid back up to join his mouth to Devon’s and Kit’s, letting them share the taste of Devon’s release.
Kit’s tongue snaked into Jonathan’s mouth to savor the essence he had helped unleash, his fingers continuing to caress Devon’s softening cock, gently now, hoping to draw out the pleasure for as long as possible. He ignored his own arousal still painfully encased in tight jeans. This moment was for Devon. “Feeling better?” he asked softly when he finally lifted his head.
The release of tension, both physical and emotional, left Devon feeling deliciously boneless. “Much better,” he murmured languidly, moving back and forth lazily between Jonathan’s lips and Kit’s. “We could spend the rest of the weekend right here.”
“No, we can’t,” Jonathan countered, sliding a hand inside the butter-soft jacket to circle Devon’s back. “As incredible as you look in these leathers, we need to get you out of them, because Kit and I have more plans for you, and it would be a shame to stain them.”
“That’s right,” Kit agreed with a grin. “We’re not done with you by a long shot. I want to play with your toys.”
Refining Limits #3
Kit Webster lounged on the couch in the trailer Bevan Campbell shared with the other three actors who, along with him, portrayed the Orkney brothers—Gawain, Gareth, Agravain, and Gaheris—in the Camelot mini-series being filmed for the BBC. The group, including Kit as Percival, had become as close as brothers themselves, and now Kit waited for Bevan to finish getting out of costume. The others had gone on to their favorite pub to prepare everything for Bevan’s surprise party. Kit’s job was to make sure Bevan arrived at the opportune moment. He’d already prepared a list of reasons why they couldn’t go straight to the pub, but apparently they weren’t going to be necessary because Bevan sat down on the couch next to him, his face serious.
“We haven’t seen nearly as much of you over the past month,” the Scot said. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine,” Kit hastened to reply, thinking of everything that had happened over the past month since he and Devon Aldridge, the actor cast as Lancelot, had first seduced Jonathan Braedon, their King Arthur. “It’s been a busy month, that’s all.”
“Not busy enough to keep you from spending more time with Jonathan and Devon than you have with us,” Bevan observed. “Colm’s worried we’ve done something to upset you, Warwick thinks you’re just tired of all the juvenile jokes and looking for some more mature companionship, and Rhodri—well, maybe best you don’t know what Rhodri suggested.”
Kit was pretty sure whatever Rhodri suggested couldn’t be any more far-fetched than reality. “What does Rhodri think?”
“That you and Devon have gotten together.” Kit had always been open about his sexual orientation, and Devon’s bisexuality was enough of an open secret, at least in the acting community, that the idea wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.
“He’s not entirely wrong,” Kit admitted, thinking that of the four Orkneys, Bevan would be least likely to scoff at the truth. “You have to admit, he’s a sexy bastard.”
“Both your trailer mates are dead sexy blokes,” Bevan agreed. “I have to say, I’m glad I won’t need to compete with Devon for the lasses’ attentions. Not that Jonathan isn’t competition enough. A poor knight like me wouldn’t have a chance if he decided to have a go at Blythe or Elsinore.”
“I think you’re safe,” Kit blurted out, not thinking about how much he might be revealing by his comment.
“I’ve never heard of him getting involved in an off-screen romance before, but there’s always a first time.” Bevan shook his head. “Women can’t resist that kind of a challenge. Ellie was telling Addison just yesterday that she thought his accent when he wasn’t in character was positively sinful.”
And wasn’t that the truth, Kit thought ruefully. “As far as I know, Jon isn’t interested in any of the birds,” he assured Bevan. “He has to be careful about things like that because of his son and all. It wouldn’t do for Josh to get the wrong idea about things.”
“So, you and Devon, hmmn?” Bevan asked with a grin. “Does he live up to his reputation?”
“More than,” Kit replied immediately, a shit-eating grin on his face as he thought back to the long weekend at the beach. “They both do.”
“Both?” The look on Bevan’s face as he moved from confusion to comprehension was priceless. “Both? You’re taking the piss, aren’t you?” When Kit’s grin didn’t waver, he spluttered, “You lucky sod, you’re shagging both of them?”
“Um….” Kit hesitated, not quite sure how to interpret his friend’s reaction or how to explain the complexities of his relationship with Jonathan and Devon. “Yes?”
“Rhodri’s going to shit a brick,” Bevan chuckled. “He and Colm had a bet on which one of them would bag someone from on set first. You’ve topped them both without even trying.”
“Not them!” Kit exclaimed without thinking, his skin heating immediately as he realized what he’d just revealed. “I’ll stick with Jon and Devon, thank you very much.”
Bevan broke into laughter. “I think Colm and Rhodri would be even more shocked than you at that idea. Though they’ll be so relieved you’re not really snarked at us, you might get at least a snog out of them.” He clapped Kit on the shoulder. “C’mon, after a bombshell like that, I need a drink.”
Kit shook his head again. “No, I’ll pass. I get enough snogs from Jon and Devon. You’re not… I don’t know, scandalized?”
“Hell, Kit, we’ve known all along you were gay, and Devon’s always had the reputation for going both ways. Jonathan’s the only real surprise, since he’s never been rumored to be anything but straight.”
“He wasn’t,” Kit admitted, “or at least he’d never acted on it. I didn’t figure you’d be bothered if I told you I was with one of them, but even people who are good with two gay guys might not know how to react to three of us. I didn’t know how to react to the idea when Devon first suggested it.”
“Besides being jealous as hell?” Bevan shrugged. “Once they get past the surprise, I doubt anyone on the set will have any problems with it. What’s that old Hollywood saying? As long as it doesn’t frighten the horses….”
Kit laughed. “I guess we’re good then. You know how much the horses love Jon.” Surreptitiously, he glanced at his watch. “Okay, enough of the heart to heart. I’m thirsty. Let’s head to the pub.”
“Speaking of snogs, maybe I can get a few from the girls,” Bevan grinned. “Today’s my birthday, you know.”
“Yeah, I seem to remember hearing something to that effect,” Kit agreed. “I’ll buy you a pint when we get to the pub.”
“You wanker!” Bevan rounded on Kit when they entered the pub to shouts of “Surprise!” and “Happy Birthday!” from the assembled cast and crew. “You’re becoming a right pro at keeping secrets, aren’t you?”
“I had a good teacher,” Kit murmured, thinking about all the secrets in Devon’s past as Bevan was swallowed by the crowd. He spotted Devon at the bar, lounging against it with the same loose-limbed grace he’d demonstrated so regularly at their beach retreat. The trousers and shirt Devon wore weren’t as revealing as his leathers, but Kit didn’t need to see the line of muscle to know what Devon looked like beneath his clothes. The image was permanently imprinted on his brain. Devon’s fair head tipped sideways, leaning close to Jonathan’s darker one, the contrast bringing a smile to Kit’s face as he crossed the room to join them.
“Damn, we’re a couple of lucky bastards, aren’t we?” Devon murmured in Jonathan’s ear as he watched Kit walk toward them.
Jonathan’s gaze lingered on Kit as the younger man made his way across the crowded pub. Kit was dressed as outrageously as usual, his jeans low and loose, his T-shirt short and tight, leaving a swath of fawn-colored skin visible along with a hint of his treasure trail as he moved. Out of costume, he’d let loose his dark hair so that it bounced around his face in windblown—or sex-tousled—glory.
“That we are,” Jonathan agreed, turning his head to bump foreheads with Devon, his voice low enough that only the blond could hear him. “Though I hit the jackpot with the two of you.”
Wending his way through the morass of actors, Kit joined his two lovers at the bar, insinuating himself in between their larger bodies. He was tempted to tilt his head up for a kiss from one or both of them, but they hadn’t talked about how they were going to explain their relationship to the rest of the cast, and he thought they might want to think about it first. He’d have to tell them about his conversation with Bevan, too, but that would have to wait until they had more privacy. “Hi,” he said instead, letting his hands brush their thighs discreetly. “Did you order me a drink?”
“A Busted Cherry, with extra fruit,” Devon nodded, his eyes sparkling.
Kit scowled, though Devon was hardly the first to give him a hard time about his preference in drinks. “What? Just because I like a sweet drink sometimes is a reason to take the piss?”
“Devon just can’t remember ever having a cherry,” Jonathan retorted, giving Devon a mock punch in the shoulder. “Don’t let him get under your skin, Kit-Kat.” Though Jonathan had definite plans for getting under Kit later in the evening—or over him, or both. He wasn’t particular, as long as it involved Kit and Devon naked in his bed.
“Speak for yourself. I’ve had many a cherry and remember every one of them,” Devon retorted, squeezing Kit’s shoulder with a wink. “I have to admit a special fondness for the most recent one I claimed.” And the last, Devon added silently.
“Kit-Kat?” Rhodri parroted, the Welsh actor jabbing Kit in the stomach with his elbow as he followed him to the bar. “If I didn’t know our King had better taste, I’d think what Bevan just told me was true.”
Kit glared silently at his friend, willing him to silence. Rhodri wasn’t discreet in the best of circumstances, though, and the kind of gossip he now had in his possession hardly qualified. “You should know better than to believe everything Bevan tells you.”
“Is it true?” Rhodri asked, oblivious to Kit’s glare as his gaze took in the two older actors. “All three of you, together?”
“And if it is?” Devon’s green eyes darkened as they held the slighter Welshman’s. “Why would it matter to you?”
“Because it means Colm owes me twenty quid,” Rhodri answered with a grin.
“No,” Kit insisted with a smirk, “you only figured out about Devon and me. You missed Jonathan entirely, so he only owes you ten.” Realizing the cat was out of the bag, he looked back and forth between his lovers. “I sort of told Bevan about us while I was delaying him getting here, and well, what one Orkney knows, they all know.”
“For sure,” Rhodri said with an emphatic nod. “Just like the brothers we play on screen.”
Jonathan frowned. He should have expected someone to have found out about them before now—it was next to impossible to keep a secret for long on a movie set—but he’d been so caught up in the emotions of their relationship that he’d been living in the moment, not thinking about the larger implications. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of being with Kit and Devon by any means, but he wasn’t especially fond of being the object of gossip. “I don’t mind the cast knowing, but I’d rather not see us splashed across the tabloids,” he said softly.
“It won’t go beyond us, though I think you could trust the rest of the cast and crew too,” Rhodri asserted. “What happens on location….”
“…Stays on location,” Warwick added, coming up with Colm to join the group at the bar.
“Thanks, guys,” Kit said with a smile. “It’ll be good not to have to keep what I’m doing a secret anymore.”
“Don’t think that means we want to hear about it!” Warwick, the most straight-laced of the Orkneys, said quickly. “We don’t care who you shag, but we don’t need details!”
Kit grinned back at him. “You sure, Warwick?” he teased. “I could tell you some things that would make your hair curl as pretty as Colm’s there.” Even as he threatened it, though, he knew he wouldn’t. Some things were simply too precious, too private to share.
“I want to hear!” Colm chimed in. “I’ll just pretend it’s two birds. Maybe I’ll pick up some ideas for when I lure Ellie and Blythe into bed.”
“At least your dreams are big, little man,” Rhodri said, ruffling Colm’s curls with brotherly affection. “But they’d be missing some necessary equipment to emulate these two.”
“Some very significant equipment,” Devon purred, the sultry tone itself enough to stir said equipment to life under Kit’s jeans.
“I’m a resourceful bloke. I’d improvise,” Colm countered with a grin.
“How about this?” Kit laughed. “When you get Morgaine and Guinevere in your bed, I’ll give you the benefit of my advice and experience. Until then, I think I’ll keep it to myself.” He figured Colm had about as much chance with either of the girls as he did and none with both of them. Blythe and Ellie were a lot of fun, and he’d hit it off with Blythe in particular because of their implied roles as rivals for Arthur’s affection, but neither of them were the kind to mess around on set. Then again, Jonathan hadn’t been either, so he supposed he ought to be a little careful what he agreed to.
“Did I hear my name bandied about?” Having given Bevan his birthday kiss, Blythe glided toward the laughing group at the bar. “Show some respect for your Queen, and someone get me a drink, by your mercy!”
“Allow me, my Guinevere,” Jonathan answered in Arthur’s regal tone, stepping closer to Kit to make room for her at the bar. The move bumped their hips together, the denim of Jonathan’s jeans brushing over Kit’s burgeoning arousal and surprising a hiss of breath from the younger man. Their eyes met for a moment of unspoken promise before Devon’s arm snaked around Kit’s waist, pulling him back and allowing enough room for Jonathan to turn and gesture for the barman—and for Devon to rub his own crotch against Kit’s buttocks.
“Later for that, sunshine,” he murmured into Kit’s ear. “I know just talking about this makes you hot, but I think this group’s had enough to assimilate for one night. Besides, the focus is meant to be on Bevan, not us.”
Kit bit back a moan at that unbelievable sensation of being sandwiched, however innocently, between his two lovers even as he nodded. “I didn’t mean to steal his thunder, but he cornered me in the trailer while I was delaying him, and once he knew, there wasn’t any stopping him from telling the others. I hope you don’t mind.”
Devon shrugged. “I’ve had worse said about me than that I’m shagging two incredibly hot men.”
Jonathan turned back from the bar, having claimed their drinks from the harried bartender and put in an order for Blythe. “Someone was bound to figure it out sooner or later,” he said, offering Devon and Kit their glasses. “I just hope it doesn’t leak out beyond the cast. You don’t need that complication to deal with in your divorce proceedings.” Even though his own split from his ex-wife Jean was wholly amicable, Jonathan could empathize with what Devon was going through.
“Let’s not mar the evening with that rot,” Devon growled, lifting his glass. “To Bevan’s birthday!”
“To Bevan!” the rest of the cast echoed, lifting their glasses in reply.
At Devon’s place a few hours later, Kit sighed in repletion and snuggled up between his lovers. They’d sandwiched him between them like at the bar and driven him out of his mind with pleasure, reassuring him that he hadn’t messed anything up by telling Bevan—and by extension the others—the truth about their relationship. “I don’t think the Orkneys will tell anyone intentionally, but they aren’t always as discreet as they should be. Is it going to be a problem if Niall finds out?”
“He cast you and Addison knowing you’re openly gay,” Jonathan mused, referring to the classically trained actor Niall had chosen to play Merlin. “Given that, I’d hope it won’t be an issue, unless he has a policy against castmates of any gender getting together. Some directors do, but they’ll generally make a point of letting everyone know up front if that’s the case.” He slid his hand from Kit’s hip to glide over Devon’s back. “You sure it won’t be a problem if Marcy finds out?”
“We were separated before filming started, so she can’t claim the two of you had anything to do with breaking up our marriage.” Devon shrugged, the muscles that had tensed at the mention of his not-soon-enough-ex-wife relaxing under Jonathan’s soothing touch. “Lord knows there are enough other examples of my less-than-sterling character she’s already trotted out.” Not that Devon didn’t have ample evidence of her own cheating to counter with. At least he had waited until it was clear the marriage was over and they’d formally separated before letting his eyes rove. “What about you, Jon? Marcy knew I was bi before we got together. This will come as a shock to your son, won’t it?”
“We raised Josh to be pretty open-minded.” Jonathan smiled as he thought of his son. “Actually, he’s been a fan since he saw Kit in Around Every Corner. Josh will be so excited at the chance to meet ‘Davey’ that the rest may not even register with him.”
“I’d love to meet him,” Kit said, “because he’s your son first, of course, but it’s always fun for me to meet fans. I’m fully aware I wouldn’t have a career if it weren’t for them.”
“Jean and I have been talking about sending him over to visit during his next school break,” Jonathan said, his voice warm with pride. “I’d like both of you to meet him. He’s the best thing to happen in my life.” Though getting together with both of you is a close second, Jonathan admitted to himself, even if he wasn’t ready to confess the depth of his feelings to his lovers. Coming into the open about their relationship was a big enough step for the moment.
“That would be fantastic,” Kit enthused. “We can take him into London, see all the touristy things there, and then get him out into the country and show him the real England. When are his holidays? If we plan it right, maybe we can talk Niall into giving us a couple of days off so we can do it up right for him.”
“The semester ends in a couple of weeks. He has a week’s break, but I can talk to Jean about letting him miss a bit of school so he could stay longer. If we take him to a museum or two, he’d be able to make the case that it’s an educational visit.”
“Sounds like a plan, then,” Devon said sleepily, throwing an arm over Kit and Jonathan. Though he’d never been tempted to have a child of his own, he found himself looking forward to meeting Jonathan’s son.
Breaking Limits #4
He strained wildly against the restraints, but the metal only cut into his wrists, adding a trickle of blood to the sweat that coated his clammy skin. The blindfold kept him from seeing, the ball gag kept him from crying out, but nothing could keep the walls from pressing down on him, crushing him beneath their relentless weight. He fought for a lungful of air, but he couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t stop the trembling that shook him as the dark and the cold and the silence closed around him. He’d buried him here, and he’d never get out, never get away....
A hoarse cry broke the stillness of the late summer night. Devon Aldridge’s arms flailed against empty air as he struggled, shivering when the warm breeze wafted over his sweaty skin. His arm struck something and he recoiled wildly, pulling away with another raw sound.
Knocked out of a sound sleep by Devon’s harsh cry and a glancing blow of his elbow, Kit Webster shook his head, trying to wake up enough for rational speech. “Devon?” he asked softly, not wanting to wake their third lover if Devon’s cry had not already done so.
“Devon?” Jonathan Braedon muttered groggily, pushing his hair out of his eyes as reached for where his lover should have been lying curled against him. His eyes fluttered open when his hand met only empty space and cool sheets. “What’s wrong, babe?”
Kit shrugged. So much for not waking Jonathan. Since they were all awake anyway, he leaned over and switched on the lamp. His eyes widened when he saw Devon huddled in one corner of the bed, knees drawn up to his chest, shivering violently. Pushing back the covers, he knelt up, trying to catch Devon’s eye. “What’s wrong, luv?” he asked.
Devon blinked as the voices penetrated his nightmare—warm voices, caring voices—his lovers’ voices. The sudden snap of the light revealed not the dank crawlspace of his nightmare, but the familiar bedroom of Jonathan’s rental house. Kit and Jonathan stared at him with wide eyes and worried expressions.
Jonathan couldn’t imagine what might have disturbed Devon so much, but it didn’t matter now; he had to do something to ease the panicked look in his lover’s eyes. He slid over the sheets, reaching forward slowly to stroke Devon’s leg, his touch as gentle as if he were calming Hengroen, the horse he rode in his role as Arthur in the Camelot mini-series that had brought them together. When Devon didn’t pull away from his hand, he moved closer, pulling the shaking man into a loose embrace. “It’s okay, babe,” he murmured, his voice low and as soothing as he could make it. “Ssshh, it’s okay.”
Devon allowed himself half a dozen heartbeats resting in Jonathan’s strong arms before swinging his legs off the edge of the bed and sitting up. “Sorry about that,” he muttered, trying to force his voice to sound light-hearted. “Probably shouldn’t have eaten that leftover curry right before bed—bloody indigestion’s giving me the heebie jeebies!”
Kit frowned, looking to Jonathan for guidance. It seemed an awfully pat answer for what appeared more than just a simple nightmare. He wanted to push, to insist on a better explanation, but he wasn’t sure that was the best path to follow.
Shrugging at Kit’s questioning gaze, Jonathan returned his attention to the man beside him. He’d dealt with a pre-teen son long enough to recognize an attempt at distraction when he saw one. Tugging unconsciously at his earlobe, he moved next to Devon, putting an arm around the bigger man’s shoulders, relieved that at least they were no longer shaking. He tried to think of a clever response to draw Devon out, but he was too worried to be subtle. “Don’t try and bullshit us, Devon, that wasn’t something you ate giving you agita. What’s going on?”
Kit scooted to Devon’s other side, his arm going around his fellow countryman’s waist, waiting for an answer.
Devon really didn’t want to have this discussion, but he knew Jonathan wasn’t going to let it drop that easily. Rubbing his hand through his hair, he sighed. “It was just a nightmare, Jon. Maybe a delayed reaction to the bloody helicopter ride or something.”
“That was over a week ago, Devon!” Jonathan protested. He knew how much Devon hated flying, even when it was the fastest way to rescue him and Kit from the mudslide that had trapped them on their way to location filming, but he couldn’t believe that was still bothering Devon. His hands traced over his lover’s shoulders, feeling the tension in the set of the broad muscles. “At least tell us what the nightmare was about,” he urged, kneading the tight deltoids with gentle pressure.
“My mum always said talking about a nightmare took away its power,” Kit added. “It always worked for me. It isn’t as frightening when you think about it calmly.”
Feeling like the world’s biggest prat for making the two of them worry, Devon shook his head. He should have been stronger, should have been able to keep his reaction inside, but Robert’s call had shaken him even more badly than he’d realized. “It was just… I was trapped. Underground. You might have noticed I don’t do small spaces well.” He swallowed hard, hoping at least part of the truth would be enough to convince his all-too-perceptive lovers that it was just a random bad dream.
Devon’s answer was too calculatedly casual, but Jonathan didn’t know what good it would serve to push any further. Obviously, the other man didn’t intend to share whatever was troubling him. Trying his best not to feel shut out, Jonathan settled for pulling Devon back down beside him on the wide bed. Holding him close as Kit spooned against their lover’s other side after flicking off the light, Jonathan ran his hand through the tousled golden hair. “Go back to sleep, babe,” he whispered, too wide awake himself to close his eyes. “We’ve got an early call.”
Kit didn’t know what was going on, but Devon had been off his game all day. His takes had gotten a little better as lunchtime neared, Lancelot’s persona winning out finally over Devon’s fatigue, but then, during lunch, Kit saw Devon on the phone, talking very agitatedly, and it seemed he never had recovered. Concerned, Kit decided to see if he could catch Jonathan alone for a minute. Fortunately, Niall was finished with Lancelot, but he wanted to shoot an interaction between Arthur and Percival one more time, giving Kit the opportunity he sought as they walked back to the trailer once the director was finished with them. “Did Devon seem to be acting odd to you?” he asked.
“I thought at first he was just tired,” Jonathan agreed, rubbing his beard with the back of his knuckles. “Even after he fell back asleep last night, he was pretty restless. But he’s pulled some all-nighters before this and never blown his lines the way he did today. He wasn’t Lancelot, and that isn’t like Devon at all.”
Kit sighed, a mixture of relief and concern. At least he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. “He was doing better right up until he got a call at lunchtime,” Kit added, not sure Jonathan had seen Devon on the phone. “Do you suppose it was his ex-wife calling and making problems over the divorce?” They had talked about Devon’s divorce on more than one occasion. It was one of the few things that really seemed to tear Devon up.
“Maybe, but usually when he’s dealing with the divorce he gets quiet. Today he seemed”—Jonathan paused, searching for the right word—“brittle, maybe, like he was angry but trying to hide it by joking around.” He shook his head with a frown. “Whatever it is, he obviously doesn’t want to talk about it.”
“So you think we should just ignore it?” Kit asked, surprised. “I mean, he seemed really upset. I hate to see him like that.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “You know what it reminds me of?”
“What?” Jonathan asked. He didn’t want to just ignore something that was troubling Devon so deeply, but he wasn’t sure what they could do to help if their stubborn lover wouldn’t confide in them.
“The day we went to the beach house,” Kit replied, “when Devon was in such a mood. You remember, he told us a little about his”—he looked around to make sure no one was within earshot—“past. It reminds me of the mood he was in that day.”
Jonathan nodded slowly, considering Kit’s insight. Not for the first time, he thought how much the people who only saw Kit’s beauty and charm underestimated the younger man. He had a sensitivity to the emotions of others that Jonathan envied. “But once we got him to the beach, he was fine,” the actor reflected. “I thought we’d convinced him we didn’t hold his past against him—in fact, I thought we’d made it pretty clear that under the right circumstances we even enjoyed it.” He couldn’t hold back a small grin as he remembered just how much they’d all enjoyed Devon’s dominance that weekend.
“So what changed?” Kit mused. “Could we have done something that triggered another memory? Or I could be miles off the mark, and it could be something totally different. I really think we should at least ask him.” He paused outside the door to their trailer, wanting to be in agreement with Jonathan before they stepped inside and faced Devon.
“You’re right,” Jonathan agreed, “we have to ask. I’m just not sure that in the mood he’s in he won’t think we’re ganging up on him.”
“Do you want to talk to him alone?” Kit suggested, seeing the sense in Jonathan’s concern. “Or I could, if you’d prefer.”
“Let’s see how he’s doing now that filming’s done for the day first,” Jonathan suggested. Kit’s idea made sense, but a part of him didn’t want either of them to question Devon alone. As unlikely as it seemed at the beginning, they’d managed to make their unconventional threesome work, and his gut told him whatever the problem was, they needed to solve it together.
Kit nodded and opened the door. Stacy and Carol were inside waiting for them, but there was no sign of Devon. Putting on his best face, Kit stepped into the trailer and smiled at the girls. “Is Devon finished already?” he asked, playing up his surprise.
“He was here and gone in about fifteen minutes,” Stacy confirmed. “He didn’t say much, but I got the impression he was in a bit of a hurry.”
“Yeah,” Carol agreed, “he didn’t even tease us about our plans for the night the way he usually does.”
Jonathan’s eyes met Kit’s over the pictures of his son that covered one corner of his make-up mirror. The fact that Devon hadn’t waited for them worried him even more than his unusual edginess during the day. Something was definitely wrong, and whether it upset Devon more or not, they needed to find out what it was.
Kit saw the determination on Jonathan’s face and nodded slightly. They would finish up here and get home as quickly as possible so they could get to the bottom of this. Pasting on a passable smile, he looked at Carol. “So, what are your plans for the evening?”
Jonathan closed his eyes and let his mind drift as Stacy worked, only half listening to Kit and Carol’s chatter. He couldn’t help but worry that their confronting Devon would only serve to drive their prickly lover further away. They had no choice but to try, though. They’d just have to make Devon see that they weren’t trying to pry—their concern for him was based in love. He was startled when Stacy broke him out of his reverie with a nudge of his shoulder. “Go home and get some sleep in your own bed, Jonathan,” she teased.
“Who says he’ll be anywhere near his own bed?” Kit replied with an impish grin. “Last I heard, the King had plans for the evening.”
“My only plans right now involve finding some food,” Jonathan laughed, careful before the make-up girls to keep his tone teasing. He picked up Excalibur from where it leaned against the side of their wardrobe closet, having gotten in the habit of taking it home with him when they left the set so he could practice his swordplay during their rare free time. “C’mon, Percival, let’s see if we can hunt down the King’s champion and see if he’ll join us.”
“I could eat,” Kit agreed, levering himself out of his chair and heading toward the door. “See you tomorrow, girls,” he added as he stepped out into the cooling night air, shutting the door behind them when Jonathan joined him.
Inside the trailer, Stacy paused in putting away the cleansing supplies and straightening the counter. She met Carol’s eyes speculatively. “You think…?” she asked.
Carol looked at the door, then back at Stacy. “Nah,” they said in unison after a moment, returning to their work so they could get on with their own plans for the evening.
Transcending Limits #5
With a sigh, Devon Aldridge settled onto the couch, flipping through the channels until he found the footie match on one of the local stations. “It’s so peaceful with the youngsters gone for the weekend,” he observed, propping his bare feet on the table and taking a sip of his beer. It was rare for them to have a full weekend with no filming, but their director, Niall Clifton, was using the time to work on final edits for the upcoming weeks’ episodes of the Camelot miniseries. “I miss Kit, but I don’t miss the Orkney brothers dropping in unannounced and staying until all hours of the morning.”
“Drinking all the beer and leaving popcorn kernels down the sofa cushions,” Jonathan Braedon agreed, swallowing a mouthful of his own brew before setting the bottle next to a flickering candle on the table and sliding down to rest his head in Devon’s lap. Kit Webster, the youngest member of their threesome, had gone to London the night before for a concert with the actors who portrayed Gareth, Gawain, Gaheris, and Agravaine. Jonathan still marveled at Kit choosing two lovers more than a dozen years his senior rather than someone closer to his own age, though so far as he knew, all the Orkney actors were straight. Of course, Jonathan himself had been straight—or at least, he’d never acted on his attraction toward men—before Kit and Devon seduced him. In any case, he wasn’t about to question his good fortune. Lifting the hem of Devon’s rugby shirt, he pressed a noisy kiss to the golden skin of his lover’s abdomen before shifting half on one hip, just enough to see the television screen. He sighed, his breath warm against Devon’s thigh. “Gonna be a long weekend without Kit, though.”
Devon smiled ruefully, waiting for Jonathan to settle before resting his hand on his lover’s shoulder. “We could have gone with them,” he offered again. “They wouldn’t have turned us down.”
“Oh, no,” Jonathan muttered. He shook his head, his stubbled cheek rubbing against the soft fabric of Devon’s track pants. “I have no desire to have my eardrums blown out by that shit the Orkneys call music. I’d rather hear your orders without you having to shout them,” he added with a grin up at his dominant lover.
Devon chuckled. “I wouldn’t be likely to be giving orders with the Orkneys around anyway. I don’t mind their knowing the three of us are together, but they don’t need to know what goes on in our bedrooms,” he countered, his cock starting to stir at Jonathan’s movements. “Careful there, or we won’t be watching much footie this evening.”
“I think I’m flattered.” Jonathan laughed, rubbing more deliberately over the growing bulge in Devon’s crotch. “More distracting than football? Of course it’s not Man U, or I’d never stand a chance.”
Devon flushed a little. “A man’s entitled to his vices,” he replied defensively.
“Oh, I’ve come to appreciate your vices,” Jonathan purred, twisting until he could mouth the hard column of flesh through the soft fabric. His own cock was thickening against the zipper of his jeans, but he resisted the urge to reach down and cup himself, channeling his arousal toward heightening Devon’s instead. At Devon’s hands, Jonathan had not only come to terms with his bisexuality but also discovered the pleasure of occasionally submitting to his more dominant lovers. “Very, very much.”
“Good to hear,” Devon choked out, his hips bucking up toward the moist heat that wafted through the cloth, “although you might change your mind if you knew just how rough I can get.” His fingers burrowed into Jonathan’s hair, keeping him in place.
“Mmmmn… you’ll have to show me,” Jonathan moaned on a shortened breath before sucking harder, feeling Devon twitch through the wet cloth. In Devon, he’d found a lover who shared his appreciation for a bit of rough play, though Kit’s aversion to intentional pain had limited how deeply they’d explored that aspect of their relationship. Jonathan had hopes that this weekend would change that. “After I make you come,” he added, biting down gently as his hands spread the Brit’s thighs wide to give him more room. He didn’t make a move to pull the fabric away, the idea of Devon’s cream soaking the already sodden cloth making him surprisingly hot. He worked his tongue along the length of the thick column, sucking hard on the way down, using his teeth again on the way back up, doing everything he could think of to drive the man beneath him crazy.
Devon bit back a curse at the sudden rough stimulation. His lovers regularly made him feel like a teenager again, with all of a teenager’s lack of self-control. He started to hold back automatically, but then he changed his mind. If he came now, it would give him that much more control later, when he pounded Jonathan’s fine ass into the mattress. Throwing his head back, he let his climax take him, his legs jerking as he came, one of them bumping the candle and splattering wax on the skin of his ankle.
“Oh fuck! Sorry!” Jonathan cried, righting the candle and grabbing Devon’s foot, trying to brush away the cooling wax. “Did it burn you?”
“Nothing to worry about,” Devon replied, an idea forming in his head. He reached for the remote and switched off the television. He didn’t want any distractions for what he had in mind. “Do you trust me?”
Jonathan paused from peeling the bits of hardened wax from Devon’s skin and looked up, caught by the tone of his lover’s voice. Ever since Robert (or “He Who Will Not Be Named,” as Kit called him—Jonathan had his own unutterable names for the bastard), they’d both done their best to rebuild Devon’s confidence as a Dom. This was the first time Jonathan had heard Devon speak with the same easy assurance he’d had before his twisted former Dom had returned to torment him, and it made Jon’s heart swell as much as it hardened his cock. Releasing Devon’s foot and sliding to his knees, he looked up at the blond with love and trust shining from his eyes. “You know I do,” he answered softly. “Always.”
Devon’s smile grew at Jonathan’s reply, at the expression on his face that radiated confidence in his Dom. “Get undressed,” he directed, moving everything that littered the tabletop: magazines, the week’s accumulated mail, Jonathan’s beer. “Lie down on the table,” he added, picking up the candle, thankful that even now, the candles he bought were always safe for play.
Arousal coursing through his veins, Jonathan pulled the T-shirt over his head, letting it drop to the floor before unzipping his jeans, uttering a sigh of relief when his cock sprang free to stand erect against his stomach. He quickly kicked away the denim and bowed his head to Devon in a gesture of respect before sitting on the end of the table.
It was such a simple gesture, that inclination of the head, but it had an instant effect on Devon’s libido, already revving hard from the blowjob Jonathan had just given him. “Lie back,” he urged, his hand going to Jonathan’s shoulder to support him on his way down.
Lifting his head to let Devon slide a small pillow from the couch beneath it, Jonathan took a deep breath and released it slowly, letting his muscles go limp as he exhaled. He shifted to align the pillow more comfortably under his neck and then stilled, looking up at his lover in quiet anticipation. He wasn’t sure what in the previous moments had piqued Devon’s excitement, but his nerves were already quivering beneath his calm demeanor.
Seeing Jonathan settled comfortably, Devon picked up the fat purple candle. “This will sting a little bit,” he warned, tipping the candle so a droplet of wax landed on Jonathan’s shoulder. He gave it a second to cool before lowering his head and tracing the edge of the wax with his tongue.
Jonathan wasn’t able to hold back the flinch when the first heated drop hit his skin. It burned a little, but the pain eased quickly, especially when Devon soothed the skin around the irregular purple blotch of wax. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing through the last of the discomfort before opening them again to find Devon’s emerald gaze watching him closely. So much love was imbued in that look that his chest tightened, and he had to blink back a sudden tingle of tears. Nodding his head minutely, he kept his eyes on Devon’s and tried to prepare himself for the next contact.
“A royal color for the King of the Britons,” Devon commented as he studied Jonathan’s face, feeling his chest swell with pride at how well Jonathan had taken the first experience. Seeing readiness there, he turned his attention to his lover’s torso, trying to decide where to let the next drop fall. Tilting his wrist, he drizzled a short line of wax across the top of Jonathan’s chest. Then, because the asymmetry offended him, he drew a matching line down the other side and then leaned back to examine the design.
“I always though Lancelot had the soul of an artist,” Jonathan commented softly once the sting of discomfort passed. He wasn’t sure if he was expected to keep quiet, but Devon hadn’t forbidden him to speak. The mood felt different today, more relaxed than their previous games, not as formal. He wasn’t sure if that was because it was just the two of them, or if Devon was going easy on him, or if this was one more aspect of breaking free from Robert’s influence, but Jonathan decided he liked it. Of course, he liked pretty much anything that involved Devon and bodily contact. “Never been a canvas before.”
“I told you I’d broaden your horizons,” Devon joked, his laughter shaking the candle and spattering drops of wax across Jonathan’s chest, one of them fairly sizable. He winced in sympathy. “Sorry, love,” he murmured, kissing the reddening skin around the thick blob.
“Mmnn,” Jonathan hummed, “’s okay.” He arched slightly, wishing he could reach up to pull Devon’s head back for another kiss, but some instinct told him that would be going too far. “Do that again?” he asked instead.
Surprised at the request, Devon acquiesced nonetheless, letting another large dollop of wax fall, this time onto Jonathan’s stomach. Instead of kissing that flat plane, he lowered his head and captured his lover’s lips, tongue slipping between them to plunder the hot cavern of Jonathan’s mouth. He’d known Jonathan would make a magnificent sub, and this was just proving him right. He wondered briefly just how far he could take his lover without Kit’s dislike of pain holding him back. Lifting his head again, he decided to find out. Aiming carefully, he let a small drop fall directly onto Jonathan’s nipple.
Catching his breath in a truncated hiss, Jonathan let the pain wash through him, blinking when it suddenly stopped feeling like pain, the heat spreading through his chest, through his veins. Endorphins, he thought, and then he blinked again and willed himself to stop thinking, waiting for the next drop to fall.
Leaning forward, Devon licked lightly at Jonathan’s other nipple, wetting it and blowing across it gently, bringing it to a tight peak, before letting a slightly larger drop land on the damp flesh. He couldn’t help appreciating the line of his lover’s body as his chest arched up slightly, then settled back onto the table.
Jonathan found himself anticipating where the next drop would fall, each sensation—the burn as the wax hit his skin, the tightness as it cooled and shrank, the slight tug when movement pulled on the hairs caught in the wax—adding to the fire in his blood. He could feel his cock stirring, thickening, and wondered how long it would be before Devon noticed it. Just the thought of the wax hitting that delicate flesh was enough to make the shaft twitch against his belly.
Pausing a moment to take in his creation, Devon smiled as he noticed the bobbing cock rising from its bed of wiry curls. He didn’t ask, not in words, but he let his hand hover above Jonathan’s groin for several moments, drawing his lover’s attention and giving him the opportunity to use his safeword before tipping the candle to send a small drop onto Jonathan’s erection. “Eager much?” he teased when Jonathan’s eyes shut and his hips jerked upwards.
“Shit, Devon,” Jonathan hissed, waiting until he had his breathing under control again before opening his eyes. He couldn’t resist glancing down to see the purple trail hardening on his reddened cock. “Fuck, that feels—” He shook his head, not finding words to describe the heady amalgam of pain and arousal. Taking a deep breath, he looked back at his lover. “More?”
“Stop me if it gets to be too much,” Devon instructed, adding to the wax already decorating Jonathan’s cock. When the drops became a solid line, he paused again, looking down to check how Jonathan was feeling. The American’s eyes were closed, his face tense with anticipation, but not clenched in pain. “Turn over,” he directed, wanting to decorate Jonathan’s ass the same way he’d done his cock.
It took Devon’s words a moment to filter through the haze of sensation Jonathan was drifting in. When he realized what his lover was asking, he hummed an acknowledgment, pushing onto one elbow before rolling on his hip and settling back on the table on his stomach, all without opening his eyes. The wax flexed and tugged at him as he moved, as if dozens of tiny fingers were teasing at his skin. A shiver ran through him, and he tried to find a position he could relax in, leaning on his forearms to leave enough space so his now fully hardened cock wasn’t crushed beneath him. In this position he couldn’t see what Devon was going to do next, and that added another dimension to the anticipation. His hips shifted restlessly, the head of his cock brushing the tabletop, its coating of wax muting the sensation. Jonathan moaned quietly, the muscles of his ass tightening as the heat in his blood grew to a throbbing pulse of need.
Devon ran his tongue swiftly up Jonathan’s crack, tasting sweat and Jonathan’s unique flavor. Using one hand to part the rounded cheeks slightly, he contemplated his next move.
No Limits #6
“I think today might well have been the most intense scene between Arthur and Lancelot yet,” Kit said as they drove home from the day’s filming. “I couldn’t decide whether Arthur felt more betrayed because Lancelot slept with Guinevere or because Lancelot didn’t sleep with Arthur.”
“And given that Jon shagged me six ways from Sunday not six hours before, he deserves an Oscar nomination for his performance.” Devon rubbed a hand over his ass with a grin. “M’backside’s still feeling it.”
“Don’t think there’s a category for ‘Best Performance Boffing Your Co-Star’.” Jonathan turned the corner and pulled up in front of Devon’s rental house. “Besides, miniseries aren’t eligible for Oscars. Not that it wouldn’t be quite an acceptance speech,” he added with a chuckle.
Kit laughed. “I can see it now. ‘Well, you see, Niall had all these ideas about highlighting the homoerotic tension between the knights, and Lancelot was such a stud, and I just couldn’t help myself.’ Something like that, Jon?” he teased, trailing his fingers over the backs of both his lovers’ necks from his place in the back seat.
“I was thinking about recognizing the competition from my fellow nominees,” Jonathan countered, capturing Kit’s wandering hand and pressing a kiss to the teasing fingertips. “You and Devon would both get my vote.”
“Can you imagine Niall filming a ‘For Your Consideration’ teaser for that award?” Devon’s voice was shaking with laughter as they got out of the car. “At least he seemed happy with today’s take. He shouldn’t need Lancelot on set for the next couple of weeks.”
Jonathan’s grin wavered at the reminder of Devon’s upcoming absence as they entered the house. “You’re still planning to fly to L.A. during your break?”
“Might as well take advantage of the time,” Devon agreed, hoping he sounded more positive than he felt. “The lawyers have most of the terms worked through, finally. Just a few more details to iron out and we should be able to sign the papers to finalize the divorce.”
“You could wait until you’re sure they’re ready,” Kit said, not wanting to beg, but he didn’t want Devon gone for weeks. He could hardly stand it when they were apart for hours. It was why he’d come home from London early and gotten an eyeful a couple of weeks earlier. That had been traumatic, but it had made them stronger in the end.
Devon shook his head. “I’m ready to have it done.” Not that he was looking forward to having to face the reality of his failed marriage, but his relationship with Marcy had been over for almost a year, and in trouble long before that. “I won’t enjoy being gone—or the bloody long flights there and back—but at least I’ll have coming back to both of you to look forward to.”
“You can spend the time on the planes thinking up all sorts of devilish things to do to us when you get home,” Kit proposed, rubbing the tense muscles in Devon’s neck. “That will distract you from where you are.”
“I don’t know,” Jonathan countered. “He might give his seatmate quite an eyeful. He’d have to keep a blanket over his lap the whole flight.”
“And those airplane loos are too cramped for a proper wank,” Devon agreed. “Those Viagra commercials warn about an erection lasting four hours—I don’t even want to think about having to deal with one for eleven.”
“There is that,” Kit said with a laugh. “Well, you’re not gone yet, so we can take care of your erection a few more times before you leave. When is your flight?”
“Friday morning. I wasn’t sure how long it would take Niall to get the scenes he wanted.”
“Then you have another full day before you have to leave.” Jonathan wrapped his arms around Devon from behind, offering his silent support. His own divorce had been amicable, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t understand what Devon was going through. “And two more nights for us to take care of you before then.”
“And we promise to take very, very good care of you,” Kit said, moving in front of Devon so that he and Jonathan caught the blond between them. He matched his lips with Devon’s, taking his time brushing their mouths together in a slow, sensual rhythm. They had all night and all of tomorrow night, and a day off tomorrow. They didn’t need to rush.
“Since you always take such good care of us,” Jonathan added, sliding his hands up Devon’s chest to tweak at his nipples, lips nuzzling at the back of Devon’s neck. He could feel the tightness of the muscles beneath his fingers and mouth. Most nights, between Kit and himself, their combined attentions would have Devon melting between them—or taking command of the situation, to their unanimous pleasure. That he did neither, still carrying the stress-induced tension in his muscles as he leaned into the embrace and returned Kit’s gentle kisses, told Jonathan that the upcoming trip had Devon tied up in knots even more strongly than he’d admitted to them. Devon’s claustrophobia made him a poor flyer at the best of times—which these definitely weren’t. There was no way Jonathan was letting Devon step on a plane in this condition. Raising his head, he caught Kit’s eyes over Devon’s shoulder. As sensitive as Kit was to his lovers’ moods, he had to be sensing the same thing Jonathan was.
When Devon made no move to take control of his kiss, indeed barely responded to it at all, Kit pulled back, studying the other man’s face. He could see the lines of tension around Devon’s mouth that usually faded as they left the set and went home together. Devon could joke all he wanted about the trip to L.A. giving him something to do while Lancelot was banished; he was taking it far more seriously than that. Glancing over Devon’s shoulder, he saw a matching concern on Jonathan’s face. “You all right there, luv?”
Devon forced his mind from the rut it seemed to be stuck in back to where it belonged—with his lovers. He’d deal with the divorce when he got to L.A.—he couldn’t let it steal the time he had with Kit and Jonathan now, especially when it might be weeks before he could return. “Just not sure I can take care of m’self at the moment, let alone the two of you,” he admitted wryly.
Kit grinned. “We already told you we were going to take care of you, remember?” He glanced at Jonathan with a raised eyebrow, offering him the opportunity to take charge if he wanted to.
Jonathan grinned back at the devilish sparkle in Kit’s eyes but silently shook his head. As much as he loved giving in to either or both of his lovers, he seldom felt the desire to take control himself. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he relished being able to lose himself in their lovemaking without being responsible for anything more than pleasing his lovers in return.
Kit had expected Jonathan’s response, but now that he had it, he felt the weight of the responsibility for their evening fall heavily on him. Taking a deep breath and reminding himself that he didn’t have to impress either of his lovers by being a perfect Dom, he nudged Devon toward the stairs. “Jonathan, take Devon upstairs to the bathroom and get him undressed. We’ll help him relax a little and then we’ll see how wild we can make him before we let him come.” He caught Devon’s chin in his hand. “You’re ours for tonight.”
“Only tonight?” Trying for a humorous tone, Devon hoped the comment didn’t sound as needy to the others as it did to him.
“Always,” Jonathan assured him, turning Devon’s head to press his own kiss to the sculpted lips before slapping his lover on his equally sculpted ass. He remembered how vulnerable he’d felt after splitting from Jean, wondering if he’d ever make a relationship work again, but he wasn’t going to let Devon wallow in that same insecurity. “And knowing Kit, I suspect he’s planning to prove it to you in ways you’ll feel longer than just tonight. Now get a move on upstairs before I have to sling you over my shoulder and carry you there.”
“In your dreams,” Devon countered, twisting to swat Jonathan in return. Before he could make contact, Jonathan let out a whoop and caught Devon around the knees, bending and lifting, and the next thing Devon knew, he was dangling upside down over Jonathan’s back as his lover bounded up the stairs with more energy than any man should have after a full day of filming. Jonathan worked in another good grope of Devon’s backside before dumping him on the bed with enough force that he bounced before settling onto the mattress.
Kit shook his head even as he marveled at the perfect ploy on Jonathan’s part to break the somewhat somber mood. Yes, Devon was leaving, but only for a short time, and he’d be back completely free of his ex-wife. They should be celebrating. “Bathroom,” he reminded his lovers as he walked into the bedroom behind them and found Jonathan pinning Devon to the bed.
“Can’t I undress him here?” Jonathan countered, working his hands under the back of Devon’s shirt. He shifted his hips to rub his erection more firmly against Devon’s, the two layers of denim between them no barrier to the heat sparking at the contact. “He’s much easier to keep in line this way.”
Devon growled and tried to break free of the press of Jonathan’s body against his, but though he might outweigh his lover, Jonathan wasn’t going to let him up without a fight. Not that Devon was really interested in getting free—Jonathan felt too good moving against him for that—but a man had his pride, after all. Jonathan tugged the shirt over his head without bothering to open any of the buttons, sending at least one of them dancing across the carpet. “Oi! I plan to wear this shirt again someday, you lunatic.”
“Then stop fighting him and do what your Dom tells you,” Kit retorted, joining them on the bed and tweaking Devon’s nipple roughly, the way he knew Devon liked. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”
Jonathan bent forward, closing his teeth around the other nipple and tugging while his hands busied themselves with Devon’s belt. “I wouldn’t piss off your Dom if I were you,” he agreed, sliding the waist past Devon’s hips once he’d loosened the buttons. His palms lingered over the strong globes of Devon’s ass, one fingertip teasing into the crevice between them. He might have hesitated once to say anything that could remind Devon of his time with Robert if Devon hadn’t made it clear he’d put those memories firmly behind him. “I’ve heard he can be a right bastard if you cross him.”
“You’d better believe it,” Kit agreed. “Now, I think I said something about getting Devon in the bathtub. Can you two handle that on your own, or do I need to pull out the big guns?” He wriggled his fingers suggestively.
“Is that a magnum in your pocket, or are you just anticipating getting at Devon’s ass?” Jonathan countered, pinching a cheek before sliding down Devon’s legs, dragging the jeans with him as he went. Tossing them to the floor, he stripped off Devon’s socks and leaned back on his heels, admiring the thick cock that curved up from the golden curls at Devon’s groin. He was tempted to forget about the bathtub and just take that delicious erection in his mouth, but that wouldn’t set a very good example for Devon on proper submissive behavior. “You going to come along to the bathroom peacefully, or do I need to get physical again?”
“I’m counting on it,” Devon answered with a grin.
“Getting physical or coming?” Jonathan retorted. “Because it’s Kit’s call either way.”
“Bathroom!” Kit exclaimed, his exasperation clear in his voice. “Now! Or neither of you will be coming tonight.” Kit knew that was an empty threat—he’d never be able to resist his lovers long enough to carry it out, but he hoped it would at least get their attention.
“That’s it!” Jonathan exclaimed, pulling Devon back into a fireman’s carry and crossing the floor to the bathroom. He set him down on the lip of the tub and then settled onto his knees in the submissive posture Devon himself had taught him. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t plan to be left wearing my cock ring all night long.”
Devon snorted, but since Kit hadn’t given them any other directions, he sank to his knees as well. “It was only the once, and you deserved it,” he muttered, clasping his hands behind him as Kit strode into the room.
“Jonathan, run a hot bath for us. Devon, find the waterproof lube. I haven’t decided exactly what I’m going to do to you two yet, but I want to be ready for anything. When you’ve found it, get in the tub, both of you, but don’t start without me. Don’t start anything without me,” Kit ordered. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Inching over to the tub, Jonathan turned the taps, feeling the water until it reached the perfect temperature. “Front or back?” he asked Devon when the blond returned from the medicine cabinet with the lube Kit had requested.
Devon pretended to think about it, but Jonathan had gotten his own way too often already this evening. In the mood Jonathan was in, there was no way to tell if his current obedience to Kit’s commands would last, and Devon wasn’t about to open himself to more of whatever devilry Jon had in mind by sitting in front of him. “Back,” he answered firmly, stepping into the tub and sighing as he stretched his legs into the warm water.
Keeping an ear out for any suspicious noises, Kit went back into the bedroom and pulled Devon’s toy box out from under the nightstand where it had taken up permanent residence. He had been the willing recipient of a good number of the items inside, but tonight he was thinking about wielding them, a different question entirely. He immediately set aside the paddle and flogger, knowing he wouldn’t be able to use them properly even if he dared. The nipple clamps, on the other hand, required little to no expertise and offered a lovely sensation. Kit’s nipples tingled at the mere thought of the times Devon had used them on him
Digging a little deeper, he found the spreader bar Devon had used on Jonathan when they’d all gone to the beach. Kit smiled. That would be perfect. He didn’t have a rail to bend Devon over, but the spreader bar and a little creativity would leave Devon equally as helpless. He pulled out a dildo, starting to set it aside until he realized the end contained a carefully concealed battery pack. Turning it on, he listened to the buzzing sound and grinned. Oh, hell, yes. Devon wouldn’t know what hit him. Setting that on the bed next to the spreader bar and nipple clamps, Kit added a pair of supple suede cuffs before putting everything else back inside the toy box, and then walked back into the bathroom to enjoy his lovers’ company.
“Killjoy,” Jonathan murmured without rancor as he eased into the tub in front of Devon. Judging by the way the water lapped the edge of the porcelain that there was imminent danger of it splashing onto the floor, he leaned forward to close the taps and then wriggled backward until Devon’s cock nestled against his ass. Devon’s arms slid around him, whether to hold him in place or to keep him from squirming further Jonathan wasn’t sure, but in either case they felt so good that he leaned back and twisted his head until he could reach Devon’s lips in a welcoming kiss.
Devon supposed he could have given Jonathan back some of his own again, but just as his arms had closed around his lover in an instinctive embrace when Jonathan leaned against him, his mouth opened just as readily to the touch of Jonathan’s lips. Not even the sudden burst of humming from the next room, quickly cut off, could distract him when Jonathan’s tongue was busy tangling with his. Only when Kit announced his return by loudly clearing his throat did Devon pull back, guiltily aware that they’d ignored Kit’s instruction not to start anything without him.
“What did I tell you two about starting without me?” Kit scolded, reaching for the washcloth and tossing it at Devon. “Get cleaned up. I was going to linger in the tub with you, but since you can’t listen, we’ll move on to other things.”
“Would have been a tight fit,” Devon muttered, reaching over Jonathan for the soap.
Growing up in Chicago, Nicki Bennett spent every Saturday at the central library, losing herself in the world of books. A voracious reader, she eventually found it difficult to find enough of the kind of stories she liked to read and decided to start writing them herself.
Ariel Tachna lives outside of Houston with her husband, her daughter and son, and their cat. Before moving there, she traveled all over the world, having fallen in love with both France, where she found her husband, and India, where she dreams of retiring some day. She’s bilingual with snippets of four other languages to her credit, and is as in love with languages as she is with writing.
Exploring Limits #1
Stretching Limits #2
Refining Limits #3
Breaking Limits #4
Transcending Limits #5
No Limits #6