Varian Krylov

by Hurt

  combed into Galen's hair, taking possession as he went on with that delicious, devouring kiss.

  A flash of pleasure flamed through him as a wet heat enveloped his cock.

  Shuddering, groaning and straining into that kiss, Galen sought Khalid's mouth more urgently. Vanka. Khalid. Both of them kissing, their scents mingling, their hands caressing his trembling body. Her mouth nursing at his cock. Her hands stroking over his thighs, her soft caress gliding inward and up, her warm hand cupping, cradling, teasing his balls as she licked and sucked and oh god fuck too much but she backed off. Left him panting, left his throbbing cock to the cool air.

  Her mouth came back to him as Khalid bit his lip, then came around to his neck, his ear, Khalid's tongue tracing and teasing, teeth love biting. Fingers caught and pinched his nipples. Khalid, how he tugged and twisted. Then Vanka's warm, soft palm slid up, over his belly, rubbing and worrying his other hardening nipple.

  She was sliding up, Khalid slipping down, her tongue finding Galen's hard nipple, Khalid's hot wet mouth sinking down on Galen's cock, making him twitch, buck, gasp.

  And as Khalid tongued and sucked his cock, Vanka came back to him, nuzzling into his neck, her soft lips playing over his brow, his cheeks, his ear, his lips.

  When her arms went around him, pulling him into her soft, smooth warmth, and she drew him into her kiss, Galen was all bound up in them, Vanka and Khalid, his loves, their mouths, their warmth, their tender touches. He was weak, he'd surrendered, and was safe, held up, held close, kept warm as their kisses drained him. His pleasure tore through him; Galen's body convulsed, wrung itself out, then collapsed.

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  Cradled between them, wrapped up in their warmth and strength, he sank down, down until he was nestled on the bed, still wound up in the darkness of the blindfold, not remembering the restraints being undone. They held him, Kissed and caressed him.

  Galen touched the blindfold. “I want to see you.” Both of them, he meant.

  Vanka's soft voice. “You can take it off when we're done playing.”

  Galen put his hand down.

  “You don't want it off?” she asked.

  “No.”

  They went on kissing and petting him, guiding his hand back to his side whenever he tried to touch them back, not letting him kiss, keeping him passive.

  Frustrating. Vanka's smooth, soft skin, Khalid's lean heat would feel so good to touch.

  To taste. But, giving in, no thought, no effort, everything was pleasure.

  Under their kisses and caresses, his revived want already had him hard again.

  While Khalid went on holding and rousing him, Vanka slipped away. When he felt her beside him again, she raised his knee; then there was something cool and smooth snaking around his thigh. As she buckled the leather strap a hot thrill surged through him. She fastened the second strap around his other thigh, and coaxed him up onto his knees. Khalid took one wrist, fastening the restraint while Vanka did the other wrist. In near unison they latched his wrists to the leather straps at his thighs.

  She was gone. Khalid was there, that touch of his skimming along his neck, over his shoulder, down his arm, rousing his nerves. Behind him, Galen could hear a faint whiff. Vanka undressing. A hot bolt fired through his groin. And Khalid's breath warm against his lips. Then his kiss. Fuck yes, that kiss. Galen went for it with everything, his 357

  fear washed away by her presence. This wasn't him and Khalid. It was the three of them.

  Vanka too, now. Her hands on him, her breath in his hair, her scent. Khalid stopped their kiss. When Vanka pressed her bare body to him, Galen's breath caught.

  Feeling her, finally. Her hot skin pressed to him. Her chest, her firm, muscled frame, no soft breasts flattening against his back. The softness of her belly. And—God.

  “You feel me, Galen?” she breathed.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want this, Galen?”

  “Yes.”

  Fuck yes. Behind his shock came a stab of want.

  Her arms wrapped around him, her touch slid over his belly, over his nipples.

  Khalid's kiss came and he opened to it, hungrier than ever.

  “I'll come, Galen, just doing this,” she said, and he felt the cool hard smoothness slip up, then down the cleft of his ass. “But if you want me to, I'll fuck you.”

  Oh god. “I want you to,” he panted when Khalid let him free of his devouring kiss.

  The dark excited him, but he wanted to see them, too. Their eyes. How they were looking at him. How they were looking at each other. But the dark was like a spell. A good spell.

  This time when Khalid kissed, it was tender. Slow and soft. Khalid's hands cradled his face as they kissed, as Vanka teased and rubbed and opened him with a slender finger. Two fingers. Then that thick, smooth hardness. Galen groaned into Khalid's gentle kiss as Vanka filled him.

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  The three of them. Like this. He'd never imagined.

  Vanka in his ass. Khalid in his mouth. Their heat all over him. Vanka teasing his nipples, Khalid holding him close. Her lips and tongue at the nape of his neck, on his ear, sending shivers down his back.

  He loved the restraint but wanted to touch back. Loved the sound of Vanka's little groans as she fucked him, and wanted to make Khalid groan, too. Wanted to make him shiver and cry out and melt down.

  “Khalid,” he breathed, his heart pounding. “I want . . .”

  “What do you want, Galen?” Khalid's lips brushed over Galen's cheek as he spoke.

  He couldn't say it. “Back up.”

  Khalid's touch, his mouth, his body moved off, and Galen folded forward, straining against the restraints to keep his balance, kissed Khalid's mouth, licked and nipped his neck, and sank down into his lap. Behind him, Vanka shifted, then started fucking him again, her strokes slow, deep, rhythmic.

  Even before he tasted Khalid's cock, the smell of him, the silky warmth of his cock brushing against his lips shook Galen. Fuck, he wanted. He parted his lips, brushed them over the swollen dome of Khalid's rigid prick. He licked. Tasted. Took in the sound of Khalid's sigh. A first. He'd never done this, without being made to. No matter how much, how often he'd wanted it.

  Galen sank down on Khalid's cock. His mouth full. His ass stretched and filled. A strain. A comfort.

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  Vanka's caress teased over his back, and Khalid was combing his fingers into Galen's hair, petting him as he sucked and licked. Above him they were kissing. All connected. Together.

  When Vanka reached down and ran a light touch along his erection, Galen writhed and sighed around Khalid's cock. Their sighs and moans muffled in their kisses.

  The smell of them. Khalid's loving caress tangling in his hair, stroking his cheek, his neck. Vanka's touch swirling over him, his cock hard and aching and twitching to go off again.

  There. God. Vanka's urgent little whimpers. Her grip dug into his shoulder as she pumped into him in tiny, desperate thrusts then still, almost, just rocking against him as she let out a long, low cry.

  Forgetting his restraints he tried to reach back, hold her to him, keep her inside of him. Khalid's caressing fingers gripped his hair, forced his mouth back down on his cock.

  “He does not wish for you to stop, Vanka.”

  Thank god.

  “No?” she teased, her voice thick after her climax. “You like this?” She was fucking him again, slow and deep. “My cock in your ass, Khalid's cock in your mouth.”

  Fucking hell. Vanka. Much more of that and he'd. . . . And Khalid, too, clutching his hair, flexing into his mouth, panting and twitching. The hot spurt. That sweet, needful, surrendering groan like a sob. His dear Khalid, giving up to him.

  Then Vanka pulled Galen up, wrapped her arms around him, pulsed her hips against him, driving her hard length into him as Khalid's hot wet mouth came down over 360

  his cock, his tongue swirling and dancing along his length, around the head of his aching cock until that throbbing pleasure cla
mped down and blew apart.

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  Chapter Twelve

  Galen pulled against the wrist restraints, just to feel the chafe and bind a little more. Even with Khalid inside him, his breath puffing moist and warm against his cheek, the reminder of the restraints got Galen harder, made him hotter. A fainter echo of his body's response each time Vanka or Khalid came to him, held out the leather or nylon cuffs, tied him up or down, in whatever position they wanted for the session they had planned.

  Biting back a whimper, Galen breathed through the burn. Taking Khalid as soon as Vanka'd finished was testing his endurance. He liked it. Being pushed to his limit, and past.

  Khalid's chest felt slick against his back, both of them sweaty, trembling, straining. Somewhere nearby, beyond the darkness of the blindfold, Vanka was watching. Galen groaned, thinking that.

  “Soon, Galen,” Khalid panted, then mouthed his ear, his neck, making his cock twitch with want. Khalid's arms cinched tighter across Galen's chest and belly, and his teeth sank into his trapezius as he shuddered and groaned.

  Khalid clung to him, collapsed against him, shaking and breathing hard. Then he held him, stroked him, kissed him where he'd bitten, and slowly slipped out, leaving Galen empty. Untouched and alone.

  But then Khalid and Vanka together helped him up, turned him around, laid him down on his back, his wrists still bound overhead at the top of the bed. Together they came to him, kissing and petting, caressing his needful cock, tonguing his nipples until he was writhing and moaning, his body begging for release.

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  Their voices, their caresses, their kisses swirled together. Together their tongues stroked up his prick, her lips nursing at the head while Khalid sank between his thighs and mouthed his balls. They teased him until he was almost sobbing, then sucked him off, together, both of them nursing and lapping at him as he came.

  After, they wrapped their bodies up with his, all of them hot and damp and sticky, sated and sleepy. It had been the second session that day. In the last week, the three of them had hardly left the house.

  As usual, after a while Vanka slipped away, on her own, and a moment later Galen heard the shower. Because he was not allowed to touch her, or see her. Khalid was, and he wasn't. It wouldn't be like that forever, but it always stung him, a little, in the first moments of separation.

  * * * *

  “Galen, if you were going to make a film of one of Khalid's novel, which would it be?”

  Galen met Vanka's look, then looked at Khalid for a few heavy seconds. Then he turned back to Vanka.

  “I hadn't thought about that, before. But . . .” he paused for minute. “Tomorrow,”

  he said with finality when he spoke again.

  “Beware, Galen. Vanka is about to change your fate, as she's changed mine.”

  “Yeah?”

  “We're going to make it. Tomorrow. Khalid's first film. My first feature. And you should be Williams.”

  “You're going to make a film of your novel?” Galen teased Khalid.

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  “I do not despise the medium so much as you imagine, Galen. And I have seen Vanka's work. I see clearly that she can do with images what I wished to do, in that novel, with words. And I have seen your work, too, Galen. Vanka and I know that your gift is too big for these summer blockbusters and resurrections of Jane Austen. And you know this, too. It is why you have been so unhappy with your work, for so many years now.”

  Vanka watched surprise, then some deeper feeling wash over Galen's features.

  “You're serious?”

  “We're serious. Khalid and I are doing this. And we want to do it with you.”

  * * * *

  It was hard to walk, but there was no way to stop. He'd decided. Now his will was moot. His body felt light. His gut and throat were tight.

  Khalid looked up from his book, a teasing smile already in place even before their eyes met. But the smile faded.

  Closer, closer, Galen felt like he was being pulled by an invisible string winding up in his belly, threading around and around his lungs, cinching off his air.

  Everything would change.

  “What is it, Galen?” Khalid asked, no irony in his voice.

  It wouldn't come out, the word in his mouth, the phrase he'd strung together half an hour earlier and kept intact through the endless barrage of wants and doubts.

  Hopeful, terrified, he put his hand out.

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  When Khalid took his hand, when Khalid rose from the armchair and stood there, their palms still pressed together, and looked at him without his ironic grin, Galen's gut lurched. He'd started it. It was happening.

  “Galen?”

  “I . . .”

  Those eyes. He'd looked into that warm gaze so many times, felt those lips. God, he loved him.

  “Tell me, Galen. What do you want?” Not a taunt. Khalid's gaze was tender, his voice gentle, coaxing.

  “I want,” Galen started, then faltered. He'd been playing the game for so long. It was almost startling, how hard it really was. Khalid was watching him, waiting.

  Even through his T-shirt, even across the inches separating them, Galen could feel Khalid's heat radiating from his naked torso. Galen touched Khalid's bare arm, that smooth, hot skin, waiting for that ironic grin. But it didn't come. He touched his face.

  That beautiful—beatific, really—face. Those patient eyes like liquid gold, that smooth-shaven, angular jaw, that soft mouth.

  Galen touched Khalid's lips with his. A careful, questioning kiss. Eyes open, watching.

  Khalid smiled. Not ironic and teasing. A sweet, warm smile.

  But it was a mistake. His gut warned him off. After this, things would change.

  Khalid would be aloof. Distant. Cold. Cruel. Little by little, he'd fade away.

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  “Galen.” Khalid's touch was warm and soft on his cheek. “I see that you are afraid. Truly afraid tonight.” It was like being held, cradled, the way Khalid was looking at him. “But you and I, we will be all right. You can trust me, Galen. Trust us.”

  Galen kissed him again, the world falling away, hope rocketing through him.

  Warm, tender, Khalid answered his kiss, his soft lips pressing and parting, taking him in.

  Khalid's hand curved at the small of his back, pulling him close. Galen could hardly breathe, like his desperate hope was burning up all his oxygen.

  Khalid pulled away. Galen's heart thumped, then sped.

  “Galen.” Khalid stroked his hair, his cheek. “You shake so much.”

  If he didn't say it now, he'd lose the last of his courage. Galen tried to smile, and Khalid's mouth widened and curved in such a warm smile that half Galen's fear melted.

  “Khalid.”

  “Yes, Galen?”

  “I love you.”

  Khalid's lambent eyes shimmered. “And I love you, Galen. Truly, as I've never loved any other.”

  Those words, Khalid's look arrested Galen's free fall. They sank into a long, tender kiss. Whatever vague fears Galen had about the future were obliterated in that kiss, in the sensation of Khalid's smooth skin under his hand, the warm press of his taut body. His stiff cock.

  It was hard, anyway, to say the next thing. But Khalid never would. Not tonight.

  “Khalid.”

  “Yes, Galen.”

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  “I want . . .” Dammit, no phrase sounded right in his head. “I want to take you to bed.”

  In the bedroom, Galen pulled off his shirt and jeans as Khalid—already in nothing but his boxer briefs—watched this first eager, voluntary undressing. They were both hard. Galen had half wondered if they wouldn't be. If they needed the games for that, too.

  God, they'd fucked so many times. Hundreds. All those years, together in their way, and he'd never really touched Khalid.

  But now he touched five fingertips to his lover's chest, stroked over his hot, sleek skin, watched Khalid's eyes flare, watched his lips part as he touched a da
rk nipple. Still touching, he kissed him, opened him, tasted him. God, that feeling, hard with need, soft with love. He wanted to growl, to cry.

  Galen stroked down, over the firm contours of Khalid's lean belly, down, curving his palm over the rigid length of his cock, down, cupping and caressing his balls through his snug shorts.

  “You feel so good,” Galen breathed, realizing as the words left his lips it hadn't cost him any effort to say so.

  Khalid made a soft noise, somewhere between a moan and a laugh. “And it feels good, your touch. I have dreamed this touch for a long time, Galen.”

  Galen couldn't get enough of Khalid's mouth, his touch, his body. He tasted, smelled, felt so fucking good. His want was chewing him apart, but at the same time he so wanted to be tender with Khalid, finally, to take his time with every kiss, every touch, to linger over the gorgeous body of his lover.

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  Sinking to his knees, Galen kissed across Khalid's sleek belly, brushed his lips over his tempting bulge, ran his palms over the firm curve of his ass, pulled him close, nuzzled into his rousing musk, breathed him in. Galen looked up, and a heavy warmth flooded through him; Khalid's gaze was so tender, so adoring. Vulnerable. A look Galen had never seen before.

  He kissed the soft, umber skin just above the black shorts, touched to notice the fine, sparse down there, almost invisible. When he slid Khalid's shorts down, revealing the graceful architecture of his hips, and the first dark curls, Galen kissed over the faint, pink imprint left behind by the elastic. Khalid. So hot and soft, so good to breathe in.

  Galen stripped him bare. Traced over every inch of his smooth, muscular ass, his sinewy thighs, his runner's calves, the surprisingly delicate skin on the tops of his feet.

  His cock.

  Khalid's gorgeous cock. Straining skyward, rocking a little. So swollen, so flushed.

  Galen kissed the crease where thigh met hip, then kissed the other, feeling the brush of Khalid's dark curls on his cheek. He brushed his lips over the delicate skin stretched taut over that full, eager cock, teasing Khalid and himself by drawing it out.