Payoff (A Market Garden Tale)

by Aleksandr Voinov

  It was damn near impossible to stay angry when Tristan looked so defeated. It wasn’t just petty jealousy, but real concern. Tristan was fucking miserable, and it was hard to be the cause of it.

  And it wasn’t just that. Though the timing couldn’t have been any worse, Jared’s head spun as he slowly realised what Tristan was saying.

  “Okay. So this is a declaration? We’re . . . more?”

  Tristan pressed his lips together and nodded. “Certainly on this end.”

  Relief and excitement rushed through Jared’s veins. If he could’ve found enough breath, he’d have let a dozen confessions tumble out of him—I’ve wanted to hear that for so long, you have no idea and I want this to be a lot more—but all he could do was whisper, “Really?”

  Avoiding his eyes, Tristan nodded. “Yeah. I mean, if you don’t . . .”

  “Bloody idiot.” Jared leaned over the footboard and kissed him. It was brief and almost superficial, but it was a kiss, and he felt both of them relax a little. “It is on this end too. I want more.” So much more.

  For the first time this evening, Tristan smiled for real. He drew Jared into a tender kiss, sliding a hand into Jared’s hair. Jared had seen this sweet, gentle side of Tristan a few times when they were alone, especially recently, but now it damn near moved him to tears because it was real. It meant something.

  Drawing back, he slowly ran the tip of his tongue along his lip for another taste of Tristan’s kiss. “So what about the future? At the Garden?”

  “I don’t know.” Tristan shook his head. “I think I’m ready to start looking for another line of work.”

  Jared held his gaze for a moment. “Is that what you want me to do too?”

  Tristan swallowed. “I’d . . . I can’t tell you what to do with your life.”

  “But if it was your choice?”

  After a long hesitation, Tristan exhaled. “Yeah. I’d want you to move on too.” He kissed Jared’s forehead. “But it’s your choice.”

  “I’ll have to think about my options,” Jared whispered, running his fingers through Tristan’s hair. “It won’t happen overnight.”

  “I know. I understand.”

  “And this is kind of shitty timing, you know.” Jared nodded towards the suite door. “What do we do when he comes back?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Jared trailed a fingertip along the sharp edge of Tristan’s jaw. “Well, you said you don’t like seeing me with men who don’t care about me, right?”

  Tristan nodded.

  Jared grinned. “I don’t know about you, but he seems like he actually gives a shit. About both of us.”

  Tristan’s eyes darted towards the door. Jared had a point. How many other johns would’ve gotten Jared a robe, and then stepped out so they could sort their issues, all without getting angry? Or throwing them out as he was well within his rights to do? The guy did seem to genuinely care. Not care care, not in a personal kind of way, but he didn’t seem to want anything bad to happen to the men he rented.

  Tristan nodded again. “True. He does.”

  “So maybe . . .” Jared drew Tristan a little closer. “We could still make sure the man gets his money’s worth.”

  To his surprise, Tristan laughed. “That can probably be arranged.” He pushed himself up from the chair and gestured for Jared to get up on his knees. Though the footboard was still between them, he wrapped his arms around Jared and pulled him close. As he moved in for a kiss, he murmured, “I’m not sure I want to watch, though.”

  He didn’t give Jared a chance to respond before he kissed him. As Jared held onto him and returned the kiss, he wondered just what Tristan had in mind.

  “I quite like threesomes, normally.”

  He pulled back enough to meet Tristan’s eyes. “So what do you think we should do for him?”

  Grinning, Tristan shrugged off his leather jacket and let it drop to the floor with a heavy thud. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

  The suite door lock clicked.

  About fucking time, Tristan thought. Another five or ten minutes, he and Jared would have given up on this naked making-out bullshit and gone straight to fucking like they were both dying to do.

  The door opened, and Rolex stopped dead in his tracks, nearly dropping the bag of what must have been takeaway in his hand.

  On the bed, Tristan met Rolex’s eyes as he ran his hand up Jared’s bare abs. “We weren’t sure you were coming back.”

  “I . . .” Rolex stared at them, letting his gaze drift all the way over their tangled-up bodies in the middle of his giant bed. “I’m assuming you’ve worked out your, uh . . .”

  “Of course.” Tristan sat up and held out his hand, reaching over Jared as he did. “Why don’t you put all that down and come join us?”

  Rolex hesitated for another moment, then put the bag down on the nearby table with his wallet and watch. “Undressed?”

  “Yeah.” A small thrill raced through Tristan. He was calling the shots again, for one, but now he was actually looking forward to this. With all that other shit out of the way, he could see Rolex as more than an inconvenient meal ticket, or someone to be jealous of.

  And who was he kidding? Rolex was pretty fucking hot.

  “All right. What’s changed?” Despite the obvious hedging, Rolex unzipped his top and shrugged out of it, which drew Tristan’s attention to his strong shoulders moving in the T-shirt. “I assumed you’d be gone. Which would have been okay. I’m glad you’re still here, of course, but . . .”

  “Take that off, too.” Tristan pushed up a bit on his elbow and ran his hand along his own cock, showing off that the only thing he was wearing himself was Jared half-draped across him. A completely naked and fully hard Jared, in fact.

  Rolex pulled that T-shirt over his head. “You don’t have anything to prove, you know.” He said it without ire, but he was still hedging.

  “No, I don’t.” Tristan grinned at him.

  “Then why—” Rolex sat down on the chair that Tristan had been sitting on just twenty minutes or so ago, and kicked off his trainers before he slid out of his trousers. “Why are we on again?”

  Jared and Tristan exchanged glances. Then Tristan put a hand on Jared’s side and pulled him closer. As Jared kissed the underside of his neck, screwing with his ability to think, never mind speak, Tristan said, “Do you want us to go?”

  “No,” Rolex said quickly. He dropped his trousers to the floor and stood again. “Not at all. But if things are”—he gestured at them—“weird between you two . . .”

  Jared nipped the side of Tristan’s neck.

  Tristan shivered. “Does it look like it’s weird between us?”

  “Uh. No.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?”

  Rolex rocked back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet. Tristan was about to try to coax him again when, apparently convinced that everything was all right, he joined them on the bed.

  They shifted around so he was between them. Rolex seemed a little hesitant to touch Jared at first, but when Jared grabbed his face and kissed him full on, he didn’t argue.

  And Tristan didn’t baulk either. With his own body up against Rolex’s, and his hand sliding up Jared’s thigh, he wasn’t on the outside looking in. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to do this with other johns anymore, but just for tonight with Rolex? Oh, yes. They could have fun with this guy.

  He leaned down and kissed Rolex’s shoulder. “There’s been a slight change of plans, though.”

  Rolex didn’t break the kiss with Jared, but he tensed just enough to let Tristan know he’d heard.

  Hand drifting down Rolex’s abs towards his cock, Tristan said, “You’re not going to fuck him while I watch.”

  This time, Rolex did pull away from Jared. Not that Jared minded—he immediately started kissing Rolex’s neck, and Tristan loved the way Rolex struggled to form words. “I’m not . . . you’re . . . Jesus Christ.” He ran his fingers through Jared’s hair
and shivered. “So what am I doing?”

  Tristan pushed himself up so he was above Rolex. “What are you doing?” He grinned, and Rolex’s eyes widened a little. “Me, of course.”

  Rolex blinked, and Tristan thought he mouthed “holy fuck” or something close to it, but stopped caring exactly what he’d said when Rolex pulled him down to kiss him. He’d never actually kissed Rolex like this, and now he knew why Jared loved making out with the guy. Rolex was a hungry kisser, an assertive one—exactly Tristan’s type.

  Then Rolex pulled back. “Except if I’m fucking you, what about him?” He stroked Jared’s hair.

  Tristan grinned again. “I’ll take care of him.”

  “Now, that’s just greedy.” Jared pushed up on an elbow. “I have a better idea.”

  “Better?” Rolex’s voice was barely a croak. “Do tell.”

  “Well. You”—Jared tapped Rolex’s chest with his finger—“are going to fuck me. But Tristan gets to fuck you.” Jared grinned wickedly at Tristan. “Because that’s the hottest combination I can think of—I get to see both of you come.”

  Tristan’s throat was tight, but that was arousal—at the idea, at Jared clearly into it, at finally getting a chance at Rolex’s gorgeous arse. Fucking the guy who was fucking Jared? Yep, that worked. That most definitely worked. He was even willing to give up the best place—the one in the middle—as a thank-you because Rolex had been bloody nice about the whole thing.

  Rolex glanced at Tristan. “You all right with that? Because I am.”

  “I am. And you’re a bit of a switch, aren’t you?” Tristan grabbed the man’s jaw and kissed him again. “Because I’m really looking forward to fucking you hard.”

  Rolex gasped. “I’ll g-get the condoms.”

  “Here.” Tristan handed him one.

  Jared grinned and picked up the lube. Everything they needed was within easy reach—Tristan and Jared hadn’t only been making out on the bed while Rolex had been gone.

  Without a word, Jared lay back on the bed and let his legs fall open, pushing up his hips enough to give Rolex a perfect view of two slick fingers entering his hole. Even Tristan forgot to breathe.

  Jared bit his lip and closed his eyes. Whether for effect or out of genuine pleasure, Tristan couldn’t tell, but it gave him goose bumps either way. Few things turned him on like Jared being turned on—totally hard, fucking himself with his fingers, enjoying the hell out of what he was doing and, Tristan guessed, being watched.

  “Jesus,” Rolex breathed. With shaky hands, he picked up the lube and started putting some on the condom he’d already rolled on.

  Tristan grabbed another condom and tore the wrapper. He’d been freaking out earlier, but now, he was wound up for an entirely different reason. Everything was okay. Hell, better than okay. He was going to fuck Rolex, and Rolex was going to fuck Jared, and . . . and Tristan was going to come before he even put on the condom if he didn’t calm himself down.

  He paused for a few seconds to compose himself and then quickly put on the condom before reaching for the lube.

  And while he’d been distracted, Rolex had moved. He was above Jared now, Jared’s slender legs parted for the man’s narrow hips, and watching the two of them kiss like that had Tristan spun up just the way he’d been when he’d watched them make out in the limo last time, en route to the hotel for Jared’s spectacular lap dance.

  He shivered and tried to concentrate on not spilling the lube anywhere but on his own hand. Easier said than done when Rolex sat up, and when his hand disappeared between him and Jared. Rolex’s hips moved a little, and there was that brief moment of tension as if he’d met some resistance. Tristan’s heart pounded—he knew exactly what that felt like, and he almost groaned himself when Rolex swore under his breath as the resistance gave and his hips slowly slid forwards.

  Jared’s hands ran up Rolex’s arms, fingers twitching as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to grab on or just feel him. When his hands came to rest on Rolex’s shoulders, his fingers pressed in, and right then, Rolex started thrusting. Not even thrusting, really, just moving, fucking Jared while Jared used his grasp on Rolex’s shoulders for leverage as he rocked his hips.

  Though Tristan had freaked out at the thought of watching them earlier, he liked it now. He loved how their bodies fit together, and hearing the sounds they made as they found a slow, steady rhythm.

  But to hell with watching them when he could join in.

  He put the lube on the condom, then some more on his finger, and moved right behind Rolex, distracted for a moment by the play of muscles on his shoulders and the different view of his thrusting body. He slid his fingers between the man’s cheeks and probed at his hole—impatient to get inside, but not enough to deliver anything less than a top-class fuck. When he got to the ring of muscle, Rolex stopped moving and widened his stance, even pushed his arse further out. Regardless of every sign of readiness, Tristan still pressed a finger in first, and then a second, because the man did yield to him pretty quickly, though he was tensing and tightening, likely from the sensory overload.

  “Don’t move,” Tristan ordered.

  “Not easy.” Rolex blew out a deep, shuddering breath.

  “Ever done it like this?” Tristan worked his fingers deeper and kept teasing the muscle, almost pulling out before he pushed back in. “Fucking one guy while getting fucked?”

  “Tried once, turned into a bit of a disaster.” Rolex gulped.

  “Well.” Tristan pulled his fingers out and positioned himself with one hand, wrapping his free arm around Rolex’s taut waist. “You’re in good hands with us.” On the last word, he pushed in, keeping the angle just right, and grinned when Rolex’s only response was a choked gasp. “Don’t move. Not yet. Can’t have you blow too quickly in Jared’s sweet little arse, can we?”

  “Uh . . . I . . . Holy fuck.”

  “That’s a good answer.” Tristan pushed in farther, pulled back out, and pushed right back in, slowly working himself deeper. Rolex was tight, and he was nervous, and he was trying very hard not to move.

  Jared reached up and kissed him deeply, tongue and all judging by the way Jared’s cheek hollowed and both their jaws moved, and Tristan stayed still until he felt the man relax a little more. He used that moment to get all the way inside, groin flush to Rolex’s arse. “Oh, you’re tight. Bet you’re even tighter than Jared here.”

  Between them, Rolex shivered. He pressed back against Tristan, and at first, Tristan thought he was trying to pull him even deeper. But then Jared moaned into Rolex’s kiss, and Tristan realised Rolex was trying to move inside him. Tristan drew back, Rolex followed, and then Rolex pushed forwards again. The two of them found a steady cadence, Rolex fucking Jared while Tristan fucked him, and after a few strokes, Jared broke the kiss and sank back onto the bed.

  “Oh God.” He arched under Rolex, fingers gripping the man’s shoulders so tight it was probably painful, though Rolex didn’t seem to mind. Then Jared opened his eyes. He looked up at Rolex. At Tristan. At Rolex again.

  And the most blissed-out smile spread across his lips. “You two are so . . . oh fuck. You—” He cut himself off with a soft moan. “You two are so fucking hot like that.”

  Tristan leaned forwards, resting a hand on Rolex’s hip to steady himself, and kissed the side of Rolex’s neck. “He likes this,” he murmured. “Maybe we should give him more?”

  Rolex turned his head slightly. “More?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Tristan reached around Rolex and found Jared’s hard cock. As he stroked him, bringing a whimper out of Jared, Tristan thrust a little harder into Rolex. “Fuck him. Hard.”

  He didn’t even know which of them moaned that time. He really didn’t care. Rolex was moving faster now, and so was he, and Jared’s dick seemed to be getting harder and thicker inside his tight grip, and as the room spun around him, Tristan wondered how much longer he could possibly last like this.

  “Oh . . . shit . . .” Rolex arched against Tristan. His r
hythm went to hell, but Tristan’s didn’t, and his thrusts forced Rolex into Jared again and again. “D-don’t stop.”

  “Stop?” Tristan laughed softly beneath Rolex’s ear. “Not a chance.”

  Jared’s hand disappeared from Rolex’s shoulder. A second later, Rolex sucked in a sharp breath and tensed, thrusting into Jared and not pulling out, and as Tristan kept right on fucking him, he realised Jared had grabbed Rolex’s nipple. Probably pinching it, maybe twisting it, but whatever he was doing, it was driving Rolex absolutely insane, so Tristan gave him all he had, slamming into him, deep and hard. He released Jared’s cock and held onto Rolex’s hips—Jared didn’t protest. He was grinning up at Rolex, out of breath and flushed and probably not going to last much longer than either of them.

  Then Rolex released a loud, helpless cry that almost took Tristan right over the edge with him. He shuddered between Jared and Tristan, as if trying to force himself deeper and at the same time encourage Tristan to give him more, and then he exhaled hard and slumped over Jared.

  “Jesus Christ,” he slurred. “You two are amazing.”

  Tristan grinned and quickly sought Jared’s eyes. They were both close, damn close, and likely Rolex wouldn’t mind a few more thrusts, but “wouldn’t mind” wasn’t exactly the most ringing endorsement. As he pulled out, he said, “If you get out of the way, we’ll give you one hell of a show.”

  Rolex moved like a drunk, but he did manage to pull out and roll over. He dropped to the side, and made no move to get rid of the condom just yet.

  Tristan cursed because he definitely had to get rid of his, and mid-fuck, that grated. Regardless, he pulled the condom off and grabbed a new one, rolled it down and got between Jared’s legs. Sexually, they were hand in glove—a perfect fit in so many ways, and Jared loved Tristan getting a bit bossy when they were both close, so Tristan thrust in hard immediately.

  Jared arched and groaned, wrapped his legs around him and pulled him into a hungry kiss while Tristan began to roll his hips, using all the self-control he had to deliver exactly what he knew Jared liked.