by Anna Zabo
He glanced at the stragglers. “We’re going to get a crowd now.”
Jesse sighed. “I’ll do what I can to keep the hordes down.” He shooed a few people away as he worked his way back to the counter.
“Better some people watching us do boring shit with paint than it vanishing next door and being completely ruined.”
Simon scrubbed his neck. “I’m sorry, Ian.”
God, he looked adorable when contrite. But this wasn’t on him. “Don’t be.” I nodded to the set. “Let me show you what’s next.”
For the next few hours, we studied the photos, put bits of the grove into place, painted, and I carved a rune onto the altar. We ignored the people watching us. Occasionally, Jesse or Lydia would come and gently redirect people to buy something or take their leave of the shop. “They’re on a deadline, you know,” Lydia murmured to someone.
We were. Or rather, I was. But with Simon helping, the set was becoming more and more like an actual set and not a pile of broken shit. I’d been right about his painting too. Absolutely professional quality. He made the parts of the grove he was painting match the photographs, and our styles blended well. You couldn’t tell what he’d done and what I had.
It was damn nice to have someone to work with too. I ended up on my own when doing the miniatures, since Wolf’s Landing could be so prop-heavy at times. When I wasn’t in the prop shop alone, I was lending a hand on a full-scale set, or crafting a one-off. I should talk to Anna about getting additional help for the miniatures. She owed me one now.
Of course, I owed Lydia too.
I stole a long gaze at Simon. He was so intensely focused on the model, he didn’t register me ogling him. God, he was hot down to his shoes, hotter in the throes of creativity. I couldn’t wait to get him naked again. My mind drifted back to the previous night and the comment he’d made while he was blowing me.
Maybe there was a way to give Lydia her due.
We worked straight through until closing and had people watching us the whole time, which felt odd. There’d been questions about the set and Wolf’s Landing, and I answered them as best I could, employing the whole, “I can’t talk about that” shtick more than once. There were things I couldn’t talk about. There were also things I didn’t know.
Like always, everyone wanted to talk about the stars of the show.
“I don’t see the actors all that often, to be honest,” I said to one guy. “Mostly, I’m hip deep in production people.”
By the time we were putting our supplies away and cleaning up, I was both hungry and slightly annoyed at being the center of attention. Granted, I’d announced exactly who I was and what I was working on, so it was my fault . . . but not entirely.
End o’ Earth’s next-door neighbor was on my shit list, even if she did sell the stuff that partly paid for my employment.
The thought of my set in her store chilled me. What the hell would she have done to it? “Is there any way we can cover this without getting the paint all fucked up?” Because draping a sheet over it seemed a bad, bad plan, but I wanted it hidden from prying eyes when we weren’t here. Yeah, the store had a lock and alarm. Still.
Simon rubbed his chin and studied the model and the work tables. “Grab your chair and put it over there.” He gestured to the right side of the table. I didn’t get what he meant until he hefted his chair and put it on the left side.
Duh. Yeah, that would work. I lifted mine and mirrored Simon’s placement, but on the right. “I take it, you have something we can use as a cover?”
He did. A painter’s tarp, one that wasn’t too heavy. We were able to drape it over the chairs and with some additional taller boxes, make sure that it didn’t touch the grove at all.
My stomach growled again and I winced, glad that Simon had made me eat lunch. “Guess I’ll get a sandwich somewhere.” It was after nine.
Simon seemed like he might say something, when Lydia and Jesse joined us.
“You guys ready to get out of here?” Lydia nodded toward the back of the shop.
“Yeah,” I said. Not brilliant, but I wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Tired, hungry, and I still wanted Simon. I wished this set wasn’t exhausting us both. There were lines of weariness around his eyes too.
We trooped to the back, Simon had me grab the extra bike, and Lydia set the alarm. Jesse said his goodbyes, and I dutifully followed the Derrys to Lydia’s SUV. As Simon had said, she had a bike rack. They strapped the bikes on, and I stuffed my hands in my pockets.
This was awkward. Saying goodnight to your new lover with his wife present, even if she did approve. “I should go find dinner.”
Lydia dusted her hands together. “I’m making some spaghetti when we get home. Want to join us?”
Should I? Shouldn’t I? I glanced from one Derry to the other. “Um . . . it’s late.”
“Not that late.” Simon shrugged. “You still gotta eat, right?” He had a grin that slipped past all my defenses and lit me up like a Christmas tree. All sparks and tingles and wants. “Hop in.” He gestured at the SUV.
“What about my car?”
“Eh,” Lydia said. “No one will bother it. It’ll be there in the morning.”
Oh. Oh. I let out a breath. “Okay.” Shaky, but maybe that was the hunger and not the way my head was spinning. Lydia was inviting me over to spend the night. Undoubtedly, given his smile, with her husband.
I could get used to this type of polyamory. No lies. No jealousy. I didn’t get how that worked. But tonight? I jumped in the SUV.
Dinner was nice. Nothing special about spaghetti and pasta sauce from a jar, but it was warm, fast, and went well with the red wine Simon had opened. We didn’t talk much while eating—all too ravenous. But once the meal was done, Lydia leaned back and swirled the wine in her glass. “I can’t believe the nerve of Marlina.”
“Well, at least we know she’s still sending people to check up on us.” Simon shrugged. “She made a fool out of herself today.”
I broke in. “Wait, she sends people into your store? To make sure you’re not selling Wolf’s Landing stuff?” Their large longhaired cat brushed against my leg and I scratched his head before he wandered off.
“Yup.” Simon’s P was exaggerated. He pushed his plate away and crossed his arms. “All the damn time.”
Lydia sipped her wine. “She’s very stern about the licensing.” A sly smile. “Jesse said you cut her down to size.”
Before I could say anything, Simon chipped in. “He can be quite commanding when he wants.”
Lydia studied Simon for a moment, then seemed to turn that focus on me. “Oh really?”
Amazing how loaded two words could be. Heat rose from my toes up to my skull. I picked up my wine glass, sipped, and plotted how best to exact my revenge on Simon. “You ever drop your keys in the alley behind the shop?”
Simon sat up bolt straight. Lydia looked puzzled.
“Uh,” Simon said. “Officer Merrick—”
Lydia clasped her hand over her mouth and laughed. She was shaking enough she had to set her wine down. “Oh,” she said. “Why, yes. I have.” Another chuckle. “Simon told you about the rule, eh?”
I felt a bit like a James Bond villain smiling over the top of my wine. “Yes, he did.” Before I could suck them back in, words tumbled out of my mouth. “He said you’d like to watch.”
Simon put down his wine. He seemed to be holding his breath. Lydia met my gaze. Talk about somewhat evil grins over wine—she beat mine. “You offering?”
Was I?
“Please say yes.” Simon’s voice was a whisper and he squirmed in his seat.
Oh hell, yes. I was. “Maybe we should take this elsewhere?”
We all rose, and I suspected we were all in a daze. The glasses and the wine remained on the table.
“Stairs.” Simon pointed, and he seemed as breathless as I felt.
I caught his arm, pulled him to me and claimed his mouth, relishing that sexy groan in the back of his throat. He melted against me
like before, surrendering, wanting. Every part of me needed him moaning and gasping under me.
“Wow.” Lydia’s voice somehow added to my desire. “You’re serious.”
I broke the kiss and spoke against Simon’s lips. “Yes, I am.”
Didn’t know how we all made it upstairs, but we did and I found myself in a bedroom that was a little too small to be the master bedroom, but still had personal touches to it. I stroked Simon’s cheek. “Lube and condoms?”
A huff that was almost laughter. “In the bedside table, where they belong.”
I stole a kiss before checking. Yup, as promised. And a few other items besides. Vibrator, a scarf similar to the one I owned, leather cuffs, a small paddle and a gag. Someone liked sex on the kinkier side.
Lydia lowered herself into a chair against the wall opposite me. That would give her an excellent view of the bed.
Of course. Swingers. I wondered how many times Simon had sat there and watched Lydia. “Ever seen your husband be fucked?”
She shook her head, eyes wide, cheeks as flushed as Simon’s. Being gay, I’d never paid too much attention to what women look like when turned on, but I guessed Lydia was there.
Simon’s arousal was easy to spot, that nice hard ridge in his jeans as he stood at the foot of the bed. “Today’s your lucky day,” I said. Didn’t know which one I was talking to. Probably both. I pulled out the lube and a condom and hesitated before closing the drawer. “Whose cuffs?”
Simon swallowed. “Um. They fit both of us.”
Oh good. I pulled them out, then slid the drawer shut. Simon was practically vibrating, and I met his stare. “Strip. Now.”
He did, first kicking off his shoes, then unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his chest and stomach, before letting it fall to the floor. Jeans next, unbuttoning and unzipping. Both those and his underwear joined his shirt.
His cock was full and pointing up, tip already beaded with pre-come. Someone wanted to be fucked badly. I glanced casually at Lydia, expecting her attention to be engrossed with her husband, but she met my gaze, mouth open slightly, as if I were a complete surprise. Maybe she was turned on by me. I couldn’t tell. I gave her a smile, then focused on Simon, who’d taken off his socks and now stood naked at the foot of the bed.
Good. “Step back a pace.”
He did and I tossed the condom, lube, and cuffs onto the bed, and sauntered to stand in front of him. Simon’s attention was entirely on me. He was hard for me.
Heady, always, this feeling of power. Utterly intoxicating with Lydia in the room. I’d never been naked with a woman present, or taken out my aching dick and stroked myself. I did the latter now, and watched Simon shiver in delight.
The chair creaked and that sent a tremble up my spine. “Get on your knees, Si.”
He knelt and peered up, blue eyes so intent on me. I took a seat on the bed and stroked my length while Simon leaned forward with anticipation.
Lydia gave a little sigh, probably because Simon was so damn hot. Hell, I sighed too.
I stroked myself once. “Suck me.”
A sly smile from Simon, then that lovely mouth closed around me. I twined my fingers in Simon’s hair but let him lick and suck and go down on me to his heart’s content. At least for now. I loved the way his mouth felt, how he used his tongue to tease, and how far he could swallow me. It was unbelievable. “You’re such a good cocksucker.”
He moaned around me and started stroking himself. I tightened my grip in his hair until the moaning turned sharp. “Did I say you could touch yourself?”
A whimper, but Simon left his dick alone.
Lydia was obviously trying to be quiet, but the chair squeaked and her breathing gave away how turned on she was. The deep gasps of need and pleasure were pretty universal. I snuck another glance, and yeah. Lydia had her hand down her unzipped pants.
She was allowed. Simon? His orgasm was mine to give. I gripped his head, stilling his motion. His tongue and lips didn’t stop, though. I leaned down and whispered, “I’m gonna fuck your face while your wife watches.”
His groan and tremble were things of delight. Dirty man.
But then, I was too. Knowing Lydia was there, knowing I was sliding my cock in and out of her husband’s mouth while she watched—that turned me inside out. I could control both of them, give them what they wanted and needed. Both Derrys were in my hands—even if I wasn’t touching one of them.
I fucked Simon’s mouth gently at first, then with force until he was moaning and gasping and tears formed at the corner of his eyes, trusting that he would tell me if it was too much. Or Lydia would. They both seemed versed enough in kink.
My own desire was swirling and rising, and if I didn’t slow down, it wouldn’t take me long to come down Simon’s throat.
I had other plans . . . so I backed off and pulled Simon away. “You like that, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Simon licked his swollen lips and met my gaze. His voice was gravel and joy. “Love any way you fuck me.”
Not only a cocksucker, but also a lovely, subby bottom. How perfect was that? I stood and grabbed the cuffs I’d thrown on the bed. “Get up. Turn around.”
I’ll give him credit, despite his shakiness and the wince I saw when he climbed to his feet, Simon obeyed quickly. Lovely back, delectable ass. I smacked each cheek, and he rose up onto his toes with a little cry. That turned into a moan when I hooked the hand with the cuffs over his stomach and dragged the index finger of my free hand up his crack.
That got me a moan from Lydia as well, and sparks went off at the top of my head and down into my balls. Got you too.
Leather needed to be around Simon’s wrists. I drew one of his hands back and fit the cuff snug around it, then around the other. They clipped together with a handy tiny carabineer.
There. Wrists nice and shackled. Simon’s shoulders rose and fell with each breath, and I kissed the nape of his neck. “Do you trust me?”
He relaxed under my lips. I nipped at his skin. “Yes.” The word was a breathless groan.
Good. The tension in Simon’s body was from anticipation, not fear. I swung him around until he faced the bed. “I want you kneeling there.” I pointed to a spot on the bedspread.
As before, Simon did as I ordered. He folded his beautiful long limbs, and his hard cock jutted out. His skin was flushed from his chest up. I moved the condom and lube out of the way, pressed a hand against his back and spoke into his ear. “Forehead against the mattress.”
With an intake of breath and a grunt deep in his throat, he lowered himself. I pushed his knees apart until he was on the edge of straining to hold the position.
Glorious. Prostrate on the bed, ass in the air for me.
I didn’t play these games often, but oh how I loved them. I ran my hand over Simon’s flesh. “You really want my cock, don’t you?”
He shifted from knee to knee. “Yeah.”
“Tell me.” I wanted to hear it. I wanted Lydia to hear it.
She had her hand down her pants now, rubbing circles. Mouth opened with an amazing expression. When she met my gaze, she smiled and her face took on greater color.
“I want—” Simon’s voice wavered. He took a breath and started again. “I want you to fuck me. Hard. I want your cock in me so deep I can’t see or breathe or speak. I want you to tell me when to come—or not.” He paused. “I want what gets you off the best.”
Everything about Simon in this moment got me off. Part of me wanted to slap the condom and lube on and fuck him rough and fast until we both collapsed, but the other part thought teasing would be fun. Making him beg. I got the lube and coated my fingers and his crack, skimming across his hole and his taint. Rolling his balls and pumping his cock until he was squirming and panting, and desperate sounds were pouring out of him.
He was damn close to the edge already.
Lydia was biting her lip, her gaze on my hand and where it stroked and slid. Some additional lube, and I gave them both what they wanted—
a finger deep in Simon’s ass.
The groan he made was exquisite. “Yeah, yeah.”
Lydia’s breath caught.
I finger-fucked him deep and hard, each stroke shaking Simon’s body. Hot. Tight. I wanted more than my damn finger in him. Didn’t take long to get a condom and lube onto my dick, or kneel on the bed behind Simon.
Simon trembled, but the hiccup of a groan that sounded in the room was Lydia’s. I couldn’t help looking over. I didn’t know why, but the sight of her there, waiting, wanting, so obviously enjoying—flipped something in my head and my chest. Maybe it was the trust she was giving me . . . us. I liked her watching.
“Want me to fuck him?” I murmured.
A tiny nod and that sweet smile again, as if to thank me.
“Please,” Simon said. “Please, Ian. I need—”
Whatever he’d been going to say became a guttural moan when I drove my dick into his ass. I went as deep as I could, slid out, and slammed back in, burying myself to the root. “You were saying?”
He replied with whimpers. I loved those sounds and the way Simon shook and rocked as I held myself in him. Mine, at least for the time being. I pulled out and fucked him with long, slow thrusts, savoring his breath and the sexy sounds he ground out when I raked over his prostate again and again. Simon pushed back to meet me, joining in the tempo I set, and our bodies moved in tandem, slick and hot. My own grunts followed his moans and I dug my fingers into his slender hips. The chair squeaked and under all that was Lydia’s breath—fast quiet huffs.
“Oh, God.” Simon’s voice was a shaky mess. “I wanna come.”
So did I. Everything was heady and powerful. Simon beneath me. Lydia watching. I grabbed his cuffed wrists—to punctuate how much he was mine—and growled, “Not yet.”
The sound he made, one born of surrender and need, set desire down into my core and up into my head. I broke our gentle rhythm and turned it into something wanton and harsh. I drove into him fast, but still deep as I could manage, each thrust pressing his head into the mattress. “You’ll come when I say. Not before.”
Simon gave a hiss and a throaty cry. But he kept up with my thrusts until we were slamming against each other and I was too damn close to tease this out any longer. Sparks flew up my back, heat descended in my center, and my balls ached. I wanted to feel Simon’s pleasure as much as hear it.
