Goldilocks and His Three Bears

by AM Riley

  “Brian has chosen to be completely subordinate for a week or two. He feels it's important for us to establish that trust... ”

  “He trusts you? So you hit him?”

  Scott cast an angry look at Paul and was startled to see the man gazing back at him with tears in his eyes.

  “I love him,” Paul whispered. “So I give him what he needs.”

  Scott studied him. Then he looked away.

  “I want to talk to Brian. Okay?”

  “Of course,” said Paul. He stood. “Thank you, Scott.”

  A few minutes later Scott went back out to the living room and found Brian there, sitting on the couch looking sorrowful.

  “Hey, Goldilocks. Where's your keeper?”

  Brian looked up at him, his eyes hurt. “He's not... ” He looked away.

  “Sorry. Kidding,” said Scott, although he wasn't. Not really. He reached to tousle Brian's hair, then thought better of it and sat down on the couch instead. “So I guess now you've got permission to speak?”

  Brian scowled. “You don't understand.”

  “Okay. I'm sorry. I mean— ” Scott made an exasperated noise and scrubbed at his face with both hands. “Listen. I was thrilled when you guys pulled me into this thing. Seriously thrilled. But... Bri. What's going on?”

  “Paul and I— ” Brian's lip poked out while he thought about it. “I've never had anything like this, you know? I didn't know I needed it. But I do.”

  “Like, you need to be punished or something? Wouldn't therapy be better?”

  “It's not punishment. It's about relinquishing control.”

  Scott blinked. “Oh.”

  “I want this, Scott.”

  “Why? I mean, he's hurting you, sugar. I'd never let a man hit me like that.”

  “He isn't really hurting me, Scott.”

  “I heard you screaming at him to stop, Brian! I heard. Christ almighty, honey, was that a whip?”

  Brian's cheeks went red. “Yes.”

  Scott stared at him for a beat and then looked away. “Shit.”

  “I'm not injured, Scott. It's pain like tattoos are pain. It hurts, and then it's over. There's a feeling of... release. I feel much calmer afterward. Peaceful.”

  “There's drugs for that,” said Scott, sarcasm coating his words.

  “It isn't a regular part of our relationship, Scott. It's a symbolic act that makes me feel better. Total submission. And he did it because I needed it. Because I wanted it. Please try to understand, Scott. You're... you're my friend. That means a lot to me. I haven't got a lot of friends out here and... well, you're more than a friend, Scott. It's like you're my brother.”

  “Kinky,” said Scott. He didn't sound amused.

  “Just try to understand.”

  “I can't watch him hit you.”

  “I wouldn't want you to,” said Brian. “That's something between Paul and me that we're still feeling out. But if you saw a scene, maybe you'd understand.”

  Scott regarded him with narrowed eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Sometimes Paul and I do a simple submission scene. It... helps when I'm feeling anxious or I've had a tiring day. It helps us both. A couple of times Jim has been there. Let me ask Paul to include you in one. Maybe if you see the dynamics, you'll feel better about the whole thing.”

  “What if it bothers me too much?”

  “Then you can stop,” said Brian, shrugging.

  Chapter Seven

  Scott sat nervously on the bed, looking at his friend who knelt silently on the floor. The harness hadn't really freaked him out. He'd seen it before. Hell, he lived with a couple of leather daddies. He'd seen guys walking around in public in them. At the Faultline, at the Pride parade. Brian's silence was a little unnerving, though— his stillness even more so. He'd never seen Brian go so long without talking.

  Jim sat next to him, big hand kneading his shoulders in a comforting manner. He ran those thumbs down Scott's spine so that a little chill accompanied them, and drew Scott's shirt off on the way back up to his head.

  “Oh. Okay. All right,” Scott said. He turned to Jim, who was unbuttoning his own shirt. The hairy pectorals and the nipple ring emerging. There was something so comforting about Jim's big hairy chest— and when Scott ran the palms of his hands over Jim's nipples, something so erotic. Jim's eyes went hot as he brushed the ring. Scott forgot everything else for a moment and went up on his knees and kissed him.

  Jim's hands on his hips, Jim's eyes glowing at him as they separated made Scott shiver a little.

  “Help me undress, Scott?”

  “Yeah. Okay.” Nothing wrong with handling that beautiful cock. Down came the zip, and out it popped. Oh yeah. Juicy as a piece of rare sirloin. Scott's mouth watered.

  “Wait,” said Jim, as he was about to go down on him. “We have to wait for Paul.”

  As if on cue, the bathroom door opened and Paul emerged. As if his size and tats weren't intimidating enough, the man was clad in leather and boots. He didn't even glance at Jim and Scott, instead walking straight over to the largely naked, kneeling Brian, whose eyes remained cast down. Paul stood over Brian, silent, drawing a long, looping black rope from a hook on his big studded belt.

  Crap. Scott shivered. Jim's hands were there immediately, warm and soothing over the gooseflesh trailing down his back, and Scott leaned into his touch. Felt warm breath near his ear, the softest touch of lips.

  Paul let his hand cup Brian's head, his fingers weaving themselves among the curls. Nothing hurtful, but Scott could tell that Brian wouldn't be able to move his head now. Then Paul unlaced his pants and drew out that inked cock.

  Scott could see the color rising in Brian's cheeks, see him breathing harder. His eyes were downcast still, but he had to see that big cock waving mere inches from his nose.

  “Do you want to suck my cock, boy?” asked Paul, his voice cold and stern.

  “Yes, sir,” said Brian, and he wet his lips.

  Paul teased Brian for only a second, painting his lips with the head of his drooling penis. Brian seemed to almost tremble with anticipation as Paul sheathed his prick and then fed it into Brian's eager mouth.

  “Make me wet,” said Paul.

  Boy, you'd think Brian was a starving man and Paul was filet mignon. Well, okay, Scott could understand that. It was a pretty cock. Scott had always thought so. He tipped his head, considering it. He'd sucked it a few times himself and licked his lips at the memory. The tats at its base were really only visible when it was fully erect, and they glistened, the reds and greens much brighter when coated in saliva.

  Jim's hands were over his abdomen now, fingers pushing into his belly, skating farther down. Scott twisted to face Jim, sliding to his knees next to the bed, his mouth finding that thick cock almost instinctively.

  Jim made an appreciative noise and leaned back on his elbows, legs spread. Watching Brian and Paul had made Scott pretty damned horny. So in no time he was sucking Jim deep, snorting, his nose pressing into the man's pubes like a pig hunting for truffles, those big sacs tight against Scott's chin, a hand against his ear, the fingers clenching and relaxing.

  “Stop,” said Paul's voice. And Scott did. Damn it.

  Jim's hand was on his head. Scott looked up and into Jim's face. He looked pretty damned blown away. Well, that was gratifying.

  “Stand,” said Paul, next to them.

  Scott and Jim both turned their heads to watch as Paul helped Brian to stand and walk to the bed. Paul directed Brian to kneel on the bed, hands behind him, cheek turned on the pillow, cute little butt high in the air. And then Paul drew out that lassolike thing and tied Brian's wrists and forearms together. Right up to the elbows. While he was doing it, every now and then, Scott saw Paul let the lacings slide across Brian's hole. Every time he did it, Brian quivered all over and pressed his lips together against whatever sound was trying to escape from his mouth.

  From the angle at which he knelt, Scott could see the cock ring on Brian, his dick str
aining and swollen above it. His balls kept jerking up like they wanted to come, and his friend was covered now with a fine sheen of sweat. Paul finished restraining him and then teased that pretty hole with his penis a few times.

  “What do you say, Brian?” he asked silkily.

  “P-p-please, sir,” moaned Brian. “P-please fuck me, Daddy.”

  Paul shoved himself in up to the hilt. Brian's head arched back, eyes squeezed closed, whole body seeming to open to the invasion.

  Lord. Scott moaned and felt himself pulled up onto the bed, felt Jim's mouth covering his, felt Jim's hand guiding Scott's fingers to wrap around Jim's fat cock, felt Jim stroking Scott as Scott stroked him.

  And then his mind was filled with only him and Jim, tongues twisting around each other, hands and cocks bumping as they stroked. With that larger-than-life porno-movie slap of flesh two feet away, with Paul's breath coming hard and fast.

  Brian cried out against the mattress.

  “No,” said Paul, still fucking.

  Scott heard Brian whimper.

  “Gonna come,” whispered Jim against Scott's ear, a second before the big body in his arms tensed and the cock in his hand bucked and spurted.

  Scott sort of drowned in his own climax, and when he found himself, moments later, he was on his side, held in Jim's big arms, as they watched Paul's muscular back arch and freeze. Scott'd swear the snakes there gaped their venom-dripping jaws wider, and then Paul's entire body relaxed.

  Paul backed up, drawing himself out of Brian, who still knelt, quivering and fighting his whole body.

  Scott saw Paul manipulate something on his friend's body, and the cock ring hit the mattress.

  “Come,” said Paul quietly.

  And Brian did. Hard. Great spurts hit the mattress, his whole body shaking.

  Paul rapidly untied the rest of Brian's restraints, slipping the harness from Brian's now pliant body and covering his face with kisses. Brian wrapped his arms around Paul and buried his head in his neck.

  “You may speak,” said Paul.

  “Are we out of the scene, Daddy?” Scott heard Brian ask very softly.

  “If you want,” said Paul, his hands gentle, his mouth on Brian, full of love.

  “I love you, Paul,” said Brian. And they kissed.

  There was a sort of approving rumble in the chest of the man who held Scott, and Jim's hands held him just a little tighter.

  From the cradle of Paul's arms, Brian looked up at his friends. His eyes were wide and blue, his hair tousled and boyish.

  “Are you okay, Scott?”

  Scott was floating, rocking in Jim's arms. He nodded.

  A brilliant smile lit Brian's face. “You enjoyed that, huh?”

  “Wouldn't be any use in denying it,” said Scott.

  Jim's mouth against his neck. Lips on his ear. “Do you need anything, Scott?”

  Scott snuggled a little closer to Jim. “I'm good.”

  Brian gave Scott a what-do-you-think look.

  “Okay,” said Scott. “That wasn't so bad.”

  Scott lobbed the football across the yard straight into Brian's waiting arms. “I'm worried about Jim,” he said.

  Brian's spiral was a hot little rocket, thought Scott, taking it in the chest with an oof of air expelled. If he were bigger and meaner, he could have played professional football.

  “What do you mean?” asked Brian worriedly.

  “Ah, you know. He seems spacey. Spacier,” said Scott. “Take it back.” And he managed a pretty decent long throw so that Brian had to sprint to the fence to catch it.

  Brian jogged up to him, tossing the football underhand, and said, “Did you talk to him?”

  “Jim doesn't like to talk about himself, Brian. He talks about you, or me, or the mailman. But he won't talk about himself. Haven't you noticed that?”

  Brian considered. “I guess I had. I hadn't given it much thought. You like him, huh?”

  “He's a good guy.” Scott turned the football in his hands, fitting his fingers over the stitching.

  “You guys've been spending a lot of time together,” Brian observed.

  Scott shrugged. “I guess. Go out long again, Bri. I like to see that pretty ass running.”

  Brian laughed and headed back across the lawn at a dead run.

  “Hey, Momma Bear.” Jim stopped washing dishes and clasped the hands that encircled his waist.

  “Hi, Brian.”

  Brian stepped around and snuggled up into his Momma's warm embrace. “Mmm, you smell like something good.”

  Jim chuckled. “Made sausage pizza for dinner.”

  Everything Momma cooked ended up scenting his beard. Brian buried his nose in it and wiggled the rest of his body into more of Momma's nooks and crannies.

  Jim petted his hair contemplatively. “How are you?”

  “Mmm. Good.” Brian's raised his face. “You?”

  Jim's eyes had that vague look. “Fine.”

  Brian studied him. “You sure?”

  Jim nodded, his lips smiling, but his brows frowning. “Sure I'm sure.”

  The next morning he was gone.

  “Damn it all to heck.” Scott threw his shoe at the railing. “Can't get the damned thing unlaced.”

  “Here, let me help you.” Brian ran over and saved Scott's running shoe from falling into the bushes. He sat down and began plucking at the knotted laces.

  “Don't bother,” sulked Scott. “Don't feel much like running today.”

  He lowered his chin to his knees and glowered in the general vicinity of the front yard.

  “Why'd he go?” The man had been in a foul temper ever since they'd woken and found Jim off on one of his unexplained trips.

  “He just goes.” Brian shrugged. “Paul says Jim's always done this.”

  “I know, I live here too. What I want to know is why the hell did he go this time?” He kicked something and sat back, arms folded and lip in a full pout.

  Brian sat looking at him, no idea what to say.

  “I have a two-week run starting tomorrow,” said Scott. “It would have been... civil for a man to leave a forwarding address. Or a note.” He jumped to his feet and trotted into the house, slamming the door behind him hard enough that the windows rattled.

  When Scott left on his latest trucking gig, Brian and Paul had the house to themselves. The place seemed huge and empty to Brian. He would find himself wandering into Jim's room or Scott's, and standing there staring and wondering what he'd gone in there for.

  But he and Paul were able to stabilize their relationship, establish rules that had been liquid before, and give Brian that peace he craved.

  “Do you need help studying for your sociology test?”

  “Yes.” Brian brought the book back and handed it to Paul where he sat in the big leather chair. “Will you quiz me?”

  He curled up on the floor at Paul's feet, a place he had gravitated to at some point quite naturally, and waited for Paul to find the chapter's questions.

  Paul looked down at him, eyes glowing with approval. “Your hair is so much longer.”

  Brian smiled, warmth in his cheeks. His curls had grown enough that they'd become ringlets. Paul allowed him to wear his hair in a ponytail outside, so that he'd look more masculine, but indoors Brian wore his hair loose and tousled around his face. He loved the way it felt, silky soft on his neck. He loved the way it felt, also, when his Daddy buried his hands in it and took his mouth with that long prick. He licked his lips and swallowed hard at the thought of it.

  Paul cleared his throat. “Concentrate, Brian.”

  Brian flushed again and pointed his nose at his textbook. “Yes, sir.”

  Paul reached over and touched Brian's head. “It's nice just the two of us sometimes, isn't it?”

  “Sometimes. You know what? I think it hurt Scott's feelings when Jim left.”

  “Really?” Paul stroked Brian's hair. “Hmmm.”

  “Why does he just go like that, Paul?”

  “H
e's never told me, hon. Something's eating at the man, though. And sometimes he just can't take it, and he has to go.”

  “I miss him when he goes,” said Brian. “I think Scott misses him too. And I don't think Scott is used to missing people.”

  Paul smiled, curling gold hair around his finger. “I think you might be right, Brian.”

  “Good morning.”

  Brian went right up on his toes and yelped with delight. “Momma Bear!” He hurtled his entire body at the man who stood in the middle of the kitchen.

  Jim smelled like pine needles and pot. His beard was trimmed, Brian noticed, snuggling and petting, burying his face and hands in his Momma Bear as if he could find out where he'd been just by smell.

  Jim chuckled and returned the caresses, giving Brian a big hug that lifted him off his toes. The embrace led to a kiss, and then Brian was against the wall, Jim urgently grinding against him.

  “Maybe you should take that to the bedroom,” said an amused voice behind them. Paul stood in the doorway, wearing only wet hair and boxers, towel in hand. “Welcome back, Jim.”

  And then Brian and Jim were on the water bed, rolling, Brian's hands seeming to move without conscious thought, stripping that big body and grasping that thick prick.

  Jim moaned and arched back, big sacs tightening already. From the nightstand, he grabbed a condom packet and ripped it open.

  “Let me.” Brian snatched it from him. He quickly peeled his shorts off and jumped onto the bed. “You lie there.”

  He slid the condom down over Jim's cock and then, with little preparation, lowered himself as well. Jim was so hard, that fat cock was like a marble post. Jim lay back, arms and legs spread, and moaned.

  Brian had forgotten how wide Jim could spread him, how good it burned. He panted and rocked, digging in his nails and remained there even when Jim shuddered all over— like a fucking earthquake, wailing— and came.

  Still seated, Brian could feel that thick penis still half-hard inside him. He began stroking himself, his other hand painting lazily through the hair on Jim's chest.

  “I missed you, Momma,” he whispered.

  Jim's eyes opened to dark slits. His chest still heaving, he watched Brian.

  “Scott missed you too,” said Brian, and then the urgency caught him and he started stroking faster. “Momma?” Jim's hand joined Brian's, took over as Brian writhed and finally shot across his chest.