Braided

by Michael, Sean

  Peter nuzzled into his touch, humming. "Love you."

  He gave Peter a soft kiss. "I love you, pretty Pet."

  Then he gave them both a look. "Now tell me, boys, how hard would it be to take this dye off your skin?"

  Paul smiled. "It should wash off, Bowie. We were testing to see if we liked it for the long-term, but it's a little..."

  Peter giggled. "Sc..sc...scary?"

  "Stark."

  "W...weird?"

  "Plain."

  Both his boys laughed, kissing each other with a happy passion.

  He chuckled. "In that case let's shower together and wash it off. I want to paint you with my marks." He slid his hand along Paul's back, imagining the soft skin plain but for his welts, spots of blood from his whip.

  The contacts came out first, his boys' lovely, expressive brown eyes becoming visible. Then the lean bodies with their rings and paint were bared when the water started. He joined them in the shower, lathering them up, taking his time, fingers sliding over their skin, lingering at Peter's nipple rings and Prince Albert, Paul's guiche.

  The dyes washed away, leaving him with two beautiful boys, smooth skinned and lovely, dark hair sleek and almost black.

  He purred. "Oh, my Pretties. Do you have any idea how lovely you look like this? Your skin calls to me, calls for my touch, my marks."

  Moaning, he leaned in and worked up a mark with his mouth just above Peter's left buttock. Peter groaned, stretching, pushing into Paul's arms, face raised for a kiss. He watched them kiss each other until he was satisfied with the mark he'd left, and then he switched boys, intent on putting a matching mark on above Paul's right butt cheek.

  Paul wiggled, tempting and teasing, eyes shining and loving him. He nipped with his teeth, giving Paul a darker mark. Paul gasped, jerked, rubbing against Peter.

  "Yes," he murmured, drawing back to admire his handiwork. He stroked the two marks, pressing his thumb in against them. His boys rubbed against each other, getting breathless, gaspy.

  He put a hand on each shoulder and gently, but inexorably pulled them apart. "Come. I have plans." He got soft little moans of complaint, two sets of needy, passion-drunk eyes fastened on him. He stroked their cheeks. "You won't be disappointed, my Pretties."

  Taking a hand in each of his, he led them to the playroom, walking slowly, letting their anticipation build. Peter cuddled, Paul bounced eagerly, both of them loving him. He set the lighting to simulate sunlight and put on his favorite field noises.

  "Peter, I assume you know how to work the cuffs and chains? I'd like you to get Paul ready while I choose my whip."

  Paul's eyes went wide, searching his. "Not a punishment, though, right?"

  "Oh, no, my Pretty." He slid his hands along Paul's back, stroking the fine skin. "I'm going to paint your back with the whip. I'm going to make you sing. You've been so very good; I wanted to do something special for you."

  Paul relaxed, leaned into his touch. "Oh. Okay. Love you, Bowie." So rare, those words from his Paul.

  He licked his way from Paul's neck, to his Pet's mouth, taking it with a sweet, deep kiss.

  "All right. Peter, if you please." He smacked Paul gently on the ass to get him moving to the middle of the room and then went to the cupboard, keeping half an eye on the boys.

  Peter pulled down the cuffs, kissing Paul's wrists before fastening them both on. The twins were whispering, touching, cheeks rubbing together. He purred. So beautiful when they worked together. Not that there wasn't a fierce beauty to them when they fought, but this... this was his.

  He choose a short whip with a flat edge, more a flogger really than a traditional whip, something that Paul would be able to feel, that would leave dark bruises and welts, but that wouldn't hurt too much or break the skin more than a little.

  Peter's eyes met his. "F...f...f...feet, too?"

  He shook his head. "No, he's fine like that. Would you like to watch or suck his cock?"

  "S...s...s...suck him." Those sweet eyes smiled at him, thanking him. It still upset Peter, the things Paul needed.

  He went over and gave them both kisses before guiding Peter down to Paul's prick, which waited eagerly. "Take your time."

  Then he took his place behind Paul, fingers sliding first along the pale back, stroking the mark he'd left. Paul moaned, hips slowly moving into Peter's mouth.

  He waited until they'd found a rhythm and then he raised the whip and hit Paul with it, right between his shoulder blades.

  Paul jerked, hands twisting in the cuffs. "Bowie!"

  "Yes, my Pretty. Feel me." He hit Paul again.

  Paul's moan was sweet, hungry, ringing through the room. The smooth skin flushed, growing dark and pink. Bowie groaned, his own prick hard, leaking.

  He let the whip fly again, catching Paul's ass. Peter's mouth was filled, Paul's hips pushing the heavy cock deep. Again he hit, and again, finding their rhythm, driving Paul's cock into Peter with the touches of his whip. Paul cried out over and over, the sounds needy, feeding his passion. Peter's hands stroked Paul's legs, trembling, petting.

  He didn't work Paul for too long, knowing the need wasn't riding his Pet. Not hard, not yet. Eventually he'd have to make Paul bleed, but not today. There was a lovely pattern of welts on Paul's back, running vertically from the tops of his shoulders to the tops of his thighs.

  Bowie walked up and pressed against the heated skin. "Well done, Paul. Take his mouth, give him your pleasure. You've earned it."

  "Oh. Oh, Bowie. Feel you. Feel you everywhere." Paul panted, hips rubbing furiously, rocking against him.

  His hands slid to pluck at Paul's nipples. Peter groaned, Paul bucking and sobbing against him. One hand sliding to Peter's head, he held it in place for Paul, pushing with his own hips to guide Paul's movements.

  Paul cried out, shaking, shuddering, entire body bowing. He kept moving Paul, kept sliding that prick into Peter's mouth, moaning as he felt sweet aftershocks shake Paul.

  Finally Paul went limp, weight pulling at the chains. "Bowie..."

  He let Peter's head go, let Paul finally slip from the beautiful mouth. "Well done, both of you."

  He stroked Peter's cheek and then reached up to release Paul, supporting his Pet's body. "Lovely. Just lovely."

  He guided Paul over to a high table resembling a pommel horse and draped Paul over it so his abused back wasn't disturbed. "You're going to watch me make love to Peter and then I'm going to spray your back and carry you to bed and we'll all rest together."

  Paul moaned and nodded, cheek rubbing the table.

  He purred, stopping to kiss Paul. "Such a good Pet today."

  Then he went and got Peter, pulling his other Pet up to his feet and drawing him closer so that Paul could watch them without straining. He could taste Paul inside the heat of Peter's mouth and it made him moan, his prick jerking as his need grew. Peter whimpered, rubbing against him, hard and needing, begging for him.

  "Hands and knees, pretty Pet."

  "Y...yes, l...love." Peter settled, looking over at Paul. "L...love you, P...paulie."

  "Love you." Paul moaned, eyelids heavy.

  He knelt behind Peter, stroking the skinny back, bending to lick at Peter's crease.

  "Bowie!" Peter jerked, head coming up, eyes wide.

  He chuckled and spread Peter's cheeks, licking at the tight little hole, making it spasm. Peter cried out, thighs parting, hips pressing back.

  "You like that, Pet, don't you?" He hummed, pushing his tongue in.

  "Yes. Y...yes. P...p...please."

  He fucked Peter with his tongue, hands going to those hips and tugging him back. Peter was so hot, tight, body gripping him, muscles shaking. He fucked that sweet hole over and over again, getting it good and wet and open. He could feel Peter start to shake, entire body trembling.

  He gave one last push of his tongue and straightened, lining his cock up with Peter's hole. "Ready for me, Pet?"

  Peter nodded, gasping. "P...please."

  With a moan,
he slid in, spreading Peter wide with his cock. Peter's body gripped him, pulled him in, so tight, so needy. Oh, so good. Bowie started to move, fucking Peter with long, slow strokes.

  "B...bowie. G...g...gonna..." Peter gasped, arched, trying to move him faster.

  He growled a little, slowing, hand slapping Peter's ass. "You don't come until I tell you to."

  "W...want, l...love." Peter clenched, rippled around him, sweet flush climbing up the thin spine.

  He purred and leaned down, lips sliding along Peter's spine. "I know you do, Pet. That's the idea."

  Peter shivered, groaning low, body tugging at his prick. He slowly sped up, shifting to make sure he nailed Peter's gland every time he pushed in. He could hear Peter's cries, the sound desperate, needy.

  He slid his hand around Peter's cock, stroking with his thrusts. "You can come now, Pet."

  Peter jerked, spending before he finished speaking, heat spraying. He thrust a few more times, letting his own pleasure have him, filling Peter with his seed. His pretty one panted, head hanging low, sweat sheening the gold skin.

  He kissed Peter's back and slid out, helping his Pet to stand. Peter shivered, his come shining on the thin thighs. Bowie gave him a kiss before getting Paul up as well and leading his boys to their bed.

  They were pliant and melting in his arms. So pretty. His.

  "P...paulie's b...b...back, Bowie." The thin back was bruised, marked.

  He frowned at himself for forgetting. "Thank you, Peter."

  He lay Peter down and put Paul in his arms and went to get the first aid kit. Peter was rocking Paul, humming, stroking the soft hair. He smiled at them and quickly took care of Paul's back, stroking and petting Paul's sides and arms.

  "There, that should have dulled the pain, Paul, and it won't get infected now."

  He set the first aid kit down and settled, tugging his boys into his arms. He tried not to let his worry show, but he'd forgotten to deal with Paul's back, losing himself in his own pleasure instead.

  Paul's face was buried in Peter's neck, already sleeping, holding tight. Peter lifted his face for a kiss, smiling at him. "L...l...love you."

  He bent and bestowed it. "Yes, Pet. I love you as well." He kissed Paul's neck. "And you as well, Pet."

  "Y...you good?" Those quiet dark eyes saw so much.

  He sighed and rested his head on the pillow, turned so he could meet Peter's eyes. "I... made a mistake tonight."

  Peter's fingers brushed his cheek. "W...what?"

  "I forgot about Paul's back. I let my own pleasure and need to cuddle supersede my duties in taking care of you both." It had been careless and he was lucky not only that Peter had reminded him, but that it hadn't been something dangerous.

  Peter nodded, gave him a quiet, serious look. "I...i...it's e...easy sometimes. T...to f...f...forget a...about P...P...Paulie. I...I...I...I think h...he's s...so loud b...because p...p...people do."

  He nodded. It was certainly easier to know exactly what he needed to do when Paul was being a brat. Still, it wasn't something he was willing to excuse or forgive. "I'm not ‘people’ though. I have to do better."

  "Y...you h...h...have to s...s...see him."

  "Yes, exactly." He smiled at Peter, feeling better just from having talked to his Pet.

  He stroked Peter's hair and then Paul's. "I love you both. My heart and soul."

  Peter nodded, smiling at him, fingers twining in his hair. "W...we know."

  "Good. Now sleep. Rest."

  Peter nodded, cuddling in, eyes dropping shut.

  He purred, letting the worry and concern fall away for now. Letting himself sleep with his lovers.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Paul loved dancing, loved touching and feeling the boom and bang of the music. Loved the way it was like sex, but different. Loved the way the other dancers fought to dance with him. Peter had late appointments and Bowie was meditating, so he got dressed and sparked and painted and headed down, drawn to the music, drawn to the crowds on the main floor.

  They added him right in, the dancers, the crowds. Bodies pressing against him, sliding, rubbing.

  There were stimupatches rolling around, tiny little stickers that could send you flying, and he shook his head, refusing them. He wanted the music, the dancing, the breathless laughing. One of the dancers behind him grabbed his ass, the hand big and hot and sliding around to cup his prick as a muscled body pressed against him.

  He shook his head, pulling away. Okay, that was too direct, too much.

  That hand stayed where it was, tugging him back. "What's the matter, pretty Pet? You don't want to dance with me?" Bowie's voice was hot, husky, sliding down his spine.

  "Oh!" He relaxed, leaned back into Bowie's arms. "I didn't know you danced."

  "This isn't dancing," Bowie murmured, rubbing a hard cock against his ass. "This is making love in public."

  "Is there a difference?" He laughed, stepping away, teasing.

  Bowie snorted and snagged his waistband, tugging him back. "Not yet."

  Paul laughed, hands above his head, shifting them away from the stimupatch dealers. "Watch out. You don't want those on you."

  "Have some experience with them, do you?" Bowie's hands slid along his sides, around to his belly, stroking.

  "Yeah. They make you fly, but it's scary and you toss and you wouldn't like it."

  "There's better ways to fly." Bowie nibbled at his neck, fingers dancing back down to his cock.

  "Oh..." He moaned a little, head tilting back. His hips moved, rubbing against that wonderful hand. "You want to go get Petey?"

  "In a half hour when he's done. You aren't enjoying dancing with me?"

  "I am. I was just being nice." He tried not to be selfish, he did.

  Bowie licked at his earlobe. "Good, Pet."

  Hips moved against him, Bowie slid that fat cock against his ass, hand working his prick up front. He melted back, closing his eyes, forgetting the other dancers and focusing on Bowie's movements. Bowie's hips were shifting with the beat, the movements sexy and wanton. It made the dancing special, something overwhelming and right. Oh. He'd never be able to dance alone again.

  Free hand sliding up under his tight sparkly T, finding his nipples, Bowie kept up the massage on his cock.

  "Bowie..." He moaned, tilting his head to look at his lover. "We're on the dance floor, you know?"

  Those green eyes were hot and Bowie chuckled. "I hadn't forgotten, but you will."

  He admired that smile, the pretty eyes. "The music is very loud, Bowie."

  "No louder than you and Peter play it on occasion." Bowie's cock ground against his ass.

  Paul laughed, shook his head, fighting his gasp. "Ours isn't so loud..."

  Bowie snorted, tweaked his nipple. "No, it's louder."

  "Not." He rubbed back, ass rocking.

  Bowie's tweaking was harder this time, and the nip to his ear was sharp. "I say it is."

  He vibrated a little, not sure whether they were playing, whether he was supposed to give in or fight back. Bowie's chuckle was low, wicked and the hand at his groin pushed into his tight pants, fingertips rubbing on his cock. Gasping, he turned his face into Bowie's throat, hiding, knowing people were watching.

  Bowie purred, but turned his face. "Let them see you glow, Paul. Let them see you shine."

  He blushed, shivered. People didn't see him when he was good.

  "My beautiful Pet." Bowie's hand wrapped around his prick, tugging and pulling inside his pants, not trying to disguise his movements for a moment.

  "Oh..." He moaned, gasping, pushing up into Bowie's touch. "I need."

  "I've got what you need, Pretty." Bowie's hand kept working him, thumb flicking the ring in the tip.

  His eyes flew open, thighs parting. "Yours."

  "Yes." The word was a growl, breath against his skin. His nipple was tugged again, Bowie's cock sliding along his ass, full of promise.

  "Yes. Close, Bowie. Close." His hips were thrusting, heart pounding.
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  That purr slid right down his spine. "Give it to me, Pretty."

  The lights flashed in his eyes, so bright, so sharp as he came.

  Bowie continued to hold him, hand sliding slowly now, slick and wet with his come. "Beautiful. My Pet. Mine."

  "Yours. Oh. Bowie." He felt exposed, bare, eyes closing again.