by Ashe Barker
I laugh. “Idiot.”
Fraze scowls at me. “Is that any way to address your Dom?”
“Idiot, Sir,” I amend.
He seems to accept that. “I’d like to meet your father sometime.”
I think I might like that, too.
A couple of hours later we’re pulling out of Wakefield when the ticket inspector makes his rounds. He checks our travel documents.
“Kings Cross,” he remarks as he draws a squiggly line on my ticket and hands it back to me. “Peterborough,” he observes when he checks Declan’s ticket, and the same for Fraze’s.
“I want to stay on as far as London, though,” says Fraze. “Can I buy the extra ticket from you?”
“It’s the same price, sir,” replies the inspector, “but I’ll need to issue you a ticket for the barriers at Kings Cross.” He taps some buttons on the machine slung around his neck, then hands Fraze the additional ticket. “Enjoy the rest of your journey, sir.”
“Not headed for home, then?” Declan eyes Fraze from the seat opposite.
“No. I’ll check into the Four Seasons. It’ll be handier for my meeting tomorrow, saves commuting in on Monday morning.”
“Fair enough. Pricey, though. That’s one of the best hotels in London.”
“You can stay at my flat,” I blurt. “If you like, I mean. It’s not up to five-star standards and not so convenient, perhaps, but it’s okay, and you’d be welcome.”
Fraze gazes at me, his head tilted to one side. Declan, too, lifts an eyebrow. Have I said the wrong thing? I really don’t have a clue about the rules of this threesome thing I’ve gotten into.
Fraze narrows his eyes. “That’s very kind of you, Ellie. Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course. If that’s okay with Declan, obviously. I mean, unless I’m only supposed to be with you both at the same time?”
“Seems we need to have at least some of that conversation now,” observes Declan. “You see, Ellie, from our point of view, if this thing between us is going to go anywhere, this relationship has to be exclusive. That means you belong to us. No one else.”
“Of course. I get that.”
“Both of us equally, either together or separately. Here’s the way of it. I’m often busy at weekends, especially in the soccer season. Fraze has to make frequent business trips, and they’re as often as not mid-week. So you see, if we were to insist you only play with both of us together, you’d be alone a lot of the time, and that’s not reasonable, is it?”
“I suppose not, although…”
Fraze takes up the explanation. “So, if you and I are both free on a weekend while Dec’s away, we should get together if we want. Over the years we’ve both come to like this double Dom dynamic, but one-on-one fucking is pretty damn good, too.”
I don’t say so, but it certainly sounds perfectly acceptable to me.
Fraze lets that point settle before he continues. “And if I’m away when he’s available, you and Dec could keep each other company if that’s what you want to do. We’re exclusive, but to each other. You don’t fuck anyone unless it’s one of us.”
“And what about you?”
“Me?” Fraze frowns at me.
“Both of you. If I don’t fuck anyone else, neither should you. Either of you.”
“Absolutely.” Fraze smiles and inclines his head
“Agreed,” says Declan. “Goes without saying.”
“Have you ever done this before? Shared a girlfriend, I mean?”
“You’re our sub, not our girlfriend,” Fraze corrects. “A sub is a whole lot more than just a woman to fuck. I know a girlfriend is, too, or can be, but at least in my experience this is much closer. Much more trust and intimacy is required. It’s a big deal.”
“Okay, sorry.” I rephrase my question. “Have you shared a sub before?”
“We’ve played in threesomes, in clubs as a rule. There’s never been a sub who we both clicked with in such a major way, though. Even after just a couple of days together, you’re special to us. We already talked about it, about you, and we want to make this work long term. I think we both knew that right from the start.”
“Yeah,” Declan agrees. “Chemistry.”
“Long term? Like a marriage almost?”
Declan shrugs. “I suppose so. A lot like that but without the public vows. In our lifestyle there are ways of showing commitment, and who knows? Maybe you’ll wear our collar in the future.”
I take that in for a few moments, then turn to Fraze. “But what about your family? Don’t you need to marry some honourable lady and produce lots of little dukes?”
Fraze quirks his lip, shaking his head. “We’re not in the middle ages now, though I suppose the British aristocracy has some way to go before we actually join the twenty-first century. The royals are ahead of us for once. The Law of Succession was changed a couple of years ago to give girls the same rights as boys.”
He’s lost me. “Sorry, what do you mean?”
“The law was changed so now the eldest child of the monarch inherits the crown, whether male or female. If that same logic applied to the aristocracy, Miranda would be Duchess of Erskine and I’d be just a humble lord.”
“I can’t imagine you being a humble anything.”
“Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“But don’t you…?”
“Need an heir? Yes, obviously. But you saw those two hooligans with Miranda at Pitlochry. Didn’t they look to you like an heir and a spare?”
“Well I suppose so, but…”
“If I die without any children of my own, Alistair, Miranda’s eldest boy, will be the next duke, and that suits me fine. I’ll live my life the way I want to, and Hathersmuir will manage perfectly well. Miranda’s in charge there anyway, she’ll teach the lad all he needs to know.”
“But don’t you care about, well…?”
“Preserving the dynasty? Of course, and if it wasn’t for Miranda I’d have to step up and apply myself. But this way’s fine, everybody’s happy, and I get to fuck who I like, the way I like.”
“Not to mention, he’s not buried somewhere in the glens with just Highland cattle and thistles for company,” observes Declan. “I’ve always said he’d make a rubbish laird. Monarch of the Glen, I don’t think so.”
“Fuck off,” retorts Fraze, though with no trace of acrimony. I get the impression this is another of their private jokes rehearsed over the years and now shared with me.
I smile to myself and settle back in my seat. There are interesting times ahead.
*****
“Sir, that feels good. So good…”
Declan’s arms tighten around my waist. Steadied, I bounce up and down on his beautiful cock. He takes my engorged nipple in his mouth and sucks hard, making me scream with pleasure.
The disruptive trill of a phone halts me in mid-downward stroke.
Declan releases my turgid peak to glance up at me. “That’s mine. Ignore it.”
“What if it’s important?”
“This is important,” he grunts. “Don’t fucking stop.”
“No, Sir.” I sink down to impale myself fully again. “Sir, may I…?”
“Go ahead,” he growls.
I slide my hand between our bodies to find my clit and I rub hard. My orgasm, already smouldering, threatening to ignite, now bursts into flames. I cling to Declan, my free arm wrapped around his neck as he thrusts his cock upwards to spear me. The crown bumps against my cervix, and my climax erupts.
When my frantic shudders start to ebb, Declan grasps me under my buttocks, causing me to squeal again as the freshly spanked skin is still very tender. He rolls us both over so now I find myself looking up at him while he pounds his cock into my pussy. He delivers several deep, driving strokes, then withdraws and realigns at the entrance to my arse. I lift my hips and try to relax, to be slack for him.
His penetration is slow, smooth and practised. He lubed me first with his fingers so I’m ready a
nd receptive. I grope for my clit when he increases the tempo, fucking my arse with deep, determined strokes. This time we come together, a hot, sweaty climax which leaves both of us panting.
At last Declan withdraws and rolls onto his back beside me. “Fucking wonderful, girl.”
“Thank you, Sir. You, too.”
This is one of those occasions when it’s just the two of us. Fraze is in the U.S., not due back for a couple of days. Declan picked me up from the lab, which caused a bit of a stir among the students. We went for something to eat, then came back to my flat. I’m hoping he’ll be able to stay for a night or two, then when Fraze returns…
It’s been nearly six months now, and our arrangement suits me very well. I see one or the other of them several times a week, and when all three of us are together the sex is every bit as explosive as it was in Edinburgh. It never pales, the intoxicating thrill of being the centre of their attention never fades.
I adore them. I love them both with a passion I could hardly imagine let alone articulate. I’ve never been happier.
“Would you like a coffee, Sir?” I prop myself up on my elbow and gaze down at my gorgeous dark-haired Dom.
“Love one. On your way would you pass me my phone? It’s in my jeans pocket.”
I scramble from the bed and scoot around to the foot where Declan’s jeans are strewn in a heap on the floor with the rest of our clothes.
The phone starts to ring again as soon as I pick it up. “Someone’s keen to get hold of you.” I hand it to him and hope he’s not being summoned to some extra training session which would mean he has to cut short his visit.
He glances at the number displayed on the screen. “It’s Miranda,” he tells me. “Wonder what she wants…”
I leave the room as he answers the call.
“Hi. How are you?”
When I trot back in with two cups of coffee, Declan has his jeans and socks back on and is just buttoning his shirt.
“Oh.” My heart sinks. “Are you going?”
“I have to get back to Scotland. My mum had an accident, a car crash. She’s in intensive care at Inverness.”
“Oh no! How bad is it?”
“Miranda didn’t know all the details. A collapsed lung and internal bleeding, apparently, but they’re still doing tests. She thought I should get back there.”
“Of course. What can I do to help?”
“I’m not sure. I just—”
“You’ll need a flight to Inverness. I’ll go online and book it while you get your stuff together.”
He just nods. I slip into a robe and head back to the kitchen where my laptop is set up on the counter. The next available flight is in two hours. I select one seat, then think better of it and change that to two. There’s no way I’m letting Declan face whatever’s waiting for him alone. Fraze would be with him if he were here, but he isn’t, so…
My next task is to phone a cab company and book a car to the airport. I’m assured it’ll be outside in twenty minutes
Back in the bedroom, Declan is flinging stuff into his trusty bright orange holdall. I grab my own overnight bag from the top of my wardrobe.
“The flight’s in two hours. I booked a taxi to the airport. You do have photo ID on you, don’t you?”
“Er, yes. My driving licence. What are you doing, Ellie?”
“I’m packing. I’m coming with you.”
He regards me in silence for several moments then nods just once. “Good. I’m glad. Thank you.”
The trip to the airport is tense. Declan phones Miranda back to let her know our plans and that I’ll be coming to Scotland with him. She’s at the hospital with his mother and tells him there’s been no change, his mother has yet to regain consciousness, and there’s been no further news from the medics. I gather she offered to have a room made ready for me at Hathersmuir, but Declan tells her that won’t be necessary as I’ll be sharing his.
“I have an apartment in the main house. So does Fraze, though neither of us have actually lived there for years now. Miranda insists.”
“That’s generous of her. And did you say your mother lives on the estate, too?”
He nods. “She has a cottage about a mile from the main house. The old duke left it to her in his will, and she always intended to retire there. I just hope…”
I reach for his hand. “She’ll be back there soon. I know it.”
“Christ, I hope so.”
I squeeze his hand again and leave him to his thoughts while I text Fraze.
Allannah had an accident. In hospital, Inverness. We’re flying up there now.
He replies at once. How bad?
Not sure. Miranda’s with her. It sounds serious.
A few minutes pass, then he texts me again.
Just spoke to M. No change since she spoke to Dec. I’ll be there tomorrow.
Are you cutting your trip short?
Too right I am!
Less than four hours after Declan took Miranda’s call, we’re landing at Inverness. It’s almost two o’clock in the morning when we emerge from the terminal building to find Wilson waiting for us at the gate. He explains that Miranda sent him and offers to drive us to Hathersmuir if we want to freshen up and get a few hours’ sleep, or straight to the hospital.
“The hospital, please.” Declan helps the driver to sling our bags in the boot, then follows me into the rear seat.
Intensive care is a twenty-four seven business, and no one there turns a hair when we show up in the middle of the night. The nurse who opens the electronic door to admit us to the ward points to a bay at the far end. I recognise a white-faced Miranda perched on the plastic seat beside the high bed. She stands as we hurry down the ward, and Declan takes her in a firm hug.
““Thank you for calling me. And for being here.”
“She’s always been like a mother to me, and to Iain. Where else would I be?” She lifts her hand in greeting to me. “Hello again.”
“Hello,” I reply. “Has there been any change?”
Declan releases Miranda, and she shakes her head. “No, but at least she’s stable.”
On the bed a small woman lies motionless, a tube inserted into her throat through her mouth. A huge bundle of lines and wires connect her to a range of machines, and a nurse scans the various dials and displays, notes something on a clipboard before turning to offer us a smile.
“I’m Nicky. I’ll be looking after Mrs Stone for the next few hours.”
“Will she be all right?” Declan leans over and peers into the pale features so similar to his own. “I’m Declan. Her son.”
“Yes, I recognise you. My boy’s a big fan. It’s too early to say for sure, but your mother’s strong and otherwise in good health. She’s holding her own, the internal bleeding has stopped, which is good news, but there’s been some lung trauma, and right now she can’t breathe without help. The consultant will be doing her rounds in half an hour, so you can ask her for more details.”
Declan murmurs his thanks and takes hold of his mother’s hand.
“I’m here, Mum. And Miranda. I have a friend with me, too. Ellie. You’ll like her. And Fraze is on his way. He’ll be here tomorrow.” He turns to the nurse, who is again monitoring the array of devices. “Can she hear me?”
“Maybe. She’s been drifting in and out so you never know. We always encourage families to talk to their relatives, and I’ll be chatting to her as well.”
“I’ll go grab a couple more chairs,” offers Miranda. “I think it’s going to be a long night.”
The next five hours tick past. The doctor comes to examine Allannah and explains much the same stuff as Nicky already told us. She does say, though, that Declan’s mother is heavily sedated, which is why she’s not waking up. Over the next day or so they’ll reduce the drugs and she should start to come round. The tube in her throat is a precaution as she’s not been breathing too well on her own, but again, once the sedation wears off…
“So, she’ll be okay?”
The medic is non-committal. “The next few hours will be crucial. We’re monitoring her carefully…”
Declan, Miranda, and the nurse take it in turns to talk to the still figure in the bed. I feel a bit like a spare part but make myself useful fetching coffee from the machine by the main hospital entrance. We’re on our third cup when it starts to get light outside, though the blinds remain down on the ward. Intensive care is a strange, timeless world where night and day don’t exist and people hover on the very margins of life. Another nurse, Rebecca, takes over from Nicky at nine in the morning, and the doctor appears every couple of hours or so.
By mid-morning, Allannah is starting to stir. She’s restless, so Rebecca starts to remove the breathing tube but soon decides to replace it. The nurse smiles at us reassuringly.
“It’s good sign that she’s trying to breathe on her own. We’ll give it an hour or so then try again.”
Declan takes hold of Allannah’s hand. “Mum, we know you’re waking up. Can you hear me?”
A few seconds later he swivels in his chair, his dark, chocolate-coloured eyes wide. “She moved! I’m sure she moved her hand.”
Rebecca leans over the bed. “Allannah, can you open your eyes, love? Can you look at me?”
At first there’s no reaction.
Rebecca isn’t giving up. “Are you awake, love?”
A flicker of her eyelids. Just the briefest movement, but it’s there. Allannah opens her eyes, just for a second. Rebecca hits a button to summon the doctor who comes hurrying over.
“What’s happening here?”
“She’s starting to respond, Doctor. I tried to remove the tube just now, but she was struggling so I left it. Heart rate is near normal, blood pressure, too.”
The consultant nods, assessing. She leans over the bed to peel back each eyelid in turn and flashes her slender torch in Allannah’s eyes before scanning the notes on the clipboard. “This all looks promising. We could try her with just an oxygen mask. Would you set that up, please?”
The three of us stand in a cluster at the foot of the bed while the doctor removes the tube from Allannah’s throat. She starts to gasp for air but soon settles when the mask is placed over her mouth and nose.
