No Limits

by Nicki Bennett

  Looking into Jonathan’s eyes, feeling Kit’s hands trembling on his shoulders, Devon couldn’t tell them how he’d come so close to safewording after Robert had beaten him harder than he’d ever done before and then taken him while he still hung in the restraints; how Robert had throttled him until he was sure he was going to suffocate, taunting him the whole time, daring him to tell him to stop. Pride alone had kept him from struggling when the cruel hands closed around his throat, when Robert slammed into him without preparation and choked him until black waves obscured his sight. He would have cried out his safeword then, but he couldn’t even draw enough air to speak. They both orgasmed together, and he couldn’t hold back the gasp of pain when Robert’s hands finally slackened enough to let him suck in an agonized breath.

  “He—I—when he let me go, I gasped, and he—he said—he told me if I couldn’t obey a simple order, he’d have to show me what being quiet meant.” Devon shuddered as his breathing quickened in response to the memory. “He took me down, cuffed my hands behind my back, and he—there was a crawl space under the porch of his house, he put me into it and he—he—it was—”

  The remembered horror in Devon’s eyes cut into Jonathan’s soul. Opening his arms, he pulled Devon into his embrace, kissing his temple, his ear, his neck. “’S okay,” he whispered, tears rolling down his face unheeded as he rocked Devon in his arms. “It’s okay, it’s over. He can’t touch you anymore.”

  “We won’t let him,” Kit agreed hoarsely, his eyes damp with his own unshed tears. He moved onto his knees, lining his body up with Devon’s back, adding his lips, his caresses to Jonathan’s. He moved his hands gently, sliding them over Devon’s skin, seeking to wipe away the memory of any touch but theirs.

  Feeling the dampness of Jonathan’s tears against his throat, Devon lifted his lover’s face, brushing away the moisture, and joined their lips together, the need to give comfort pulling him out of the memories of the past. He parted Jonathan’s lips with his tongue, drinking in the taste of his mouth, banishing Robert from his thoughts, taking comfort in the presence of the men he loved. With his free hand, he reached back, captured Kit’s arm, and pulled him closer, leaning into his strength.

  Devon’s taking control of the kiss told Jonathan more than any words could what he needed. Devon was strong; he’d walked away from this bastard once and he’d beat him again, but right now he needed reassurance of his own control, and Jonathan would give that to him. Lying back on the pile of pillows against the headboard, he pulled Devon down on top of him, spreading his legs to coax Devon to lie between them. He gently broke away from the kiss, giving in to his need to trail his mouth down the strong column of Devon’s throat. “Make love to me, Devon,” he whispered, the low rasp of his voice confirming his need.

  “Yes,” Devon husked, desire for his lover—for both his lovers—flaring in him. Twisting his shoulders, he drew Kit’s mouth to his, conveying his own need with the urgent dance of his tongue. “Kit,” he urged, “want you to make love to me.” He needed both men’s touch, both men’s love, to wipe away the last traces of Robert’s poisonous memory.

  “Anytime,” Kit replied fervently, love and lust mingling at the request. He shifted so that he knelt between Jonathan’s outspread legs, pulling Devon between his own thighs, facing Jonathan. “Go ahead,” he urged. “Touch him like he asked. You know what he likes.” As he spoke, he stroked Devon’s chest, tweaking his nipples.

  Jonathan moaned as Devon’s hands mirrored Kit’s words, coasting over all the sensitive spots his lovers had discovered. He tangled his hands in Devon’s tousled hair and pulled him back into a deep kiss, claiming Devon’s mouth to demonstrate exactly how he wanted to be claimed in turn.

  Kit watched Devon and Jonathan kiss, their passion turning him on immensely. There wasn’t any danger of what they shared getting mixed up with Robert’s twisted ideas, not if the other man had foregone the incredible pleasure of kissing Devon. Kit took advantage of that freedom every chance he got. That triggered an idea, so fleeting he almost dismissed it. Almost. Moving his hands to Devon’s shoulders, he urged him to slide lower, sending Devon’s lips skimming over Jonathan’s collarbone on their way to his nipples. “Bite him,” Kit urged. “You know how he likes it.”

  Devon let Kit guide him without even thinking about it. The suggestion coincided so well with his own desires that he never questioned the instruction. Kit’s lips on his back, nipping and kissing, only added to the sensation, and to his surprise, he felt himself slipping under, not like he had with Robert, not out of pride or fear, but out of need and love. With a sigh of relief against Jonathan’s skin, he gave himself over to Kit’s direction, knowing without needing to be told that Kit would never abuse that trust.

  Jonathan was surprised to hear Kit take control, a role Devon usually assumed regardless of his relative position in the pile of their bodies, but before he could question it, Devon relaxed against him, following Kit’s instructions. Jonathan quit wondering and enjoyed the feel of Devon’s teeth closing around his nipple.

  A little surprised at Devon’s easy acquiescence, Kit wondered how far his two lovers would let him take this. Not that he had any intention of turning it rough, but he wasn’t usually the one giving directions, however tame they were. He sat back on his heels and tentatively closed his hands over Jonathan’s, moving them from Devon’s head to his chest. “Touch him,” he directed Jonathan. “I want to hear him moan.”

  The delicious torment of Devon’s mouth on his chest had Jonathan close to moaning himself. Kit’s command only reinforced what he longed to do anyway. He ran his palms over the width of Devon’s broad chest and then returned to rub circles over the pebbling nipples. When he’d coaxed them to firm peaks, he pinched them between his fingers, rolling and tugging the sensitive buds until he wrung a groan from deep in Devon’s throat.

  Biting his way toward Jonathan’s other nipple, Devon didn’t try to hold back his moan of pleasure, knowing it was what Kit wanted to hear. He arched his hips upward, opening himself further to Jonathan’s touch and hoping to brush against Kit, missing the warmth against his back.

  Kit brushed a gentle hand over Devon’s arse. “Feeling greedy, are you?” he teased, letting his fingers drift into the cleft between the muscular buttocks. On impulse, he lowered his head and nipped sharply at the curve of one cheek.

  Startled, Devon instinctively bit down harder on Jonathan’s nipple, their cries echoing as they bucked against each other. “You know what we want,” Devon gasped, licking a soothing swath over the swollen flesh beneath his mouth. He met Jonathan’s eyes, their blue depths cloudy with desire. “What we all want.”

  Kit grinned. Yes, he knew what they wanted. He grabbed the lube from the bedside table, took one of Devon’s hands, and squirted gel onto his fingers. “Get Jonathan ready,” he said firmly.

  His desire spiraling at Kit’s commands, Devon saw a matching spark in Jonathan’s eyes. He stroked lazily down Jonathan’s cock and then lower, sliding his hand behind it to skim the dark crease. At the same time, the cool slickness of Kit’s hand delved between his own legs, preparing him as he opened Jonathan, all their movements wordlessly synchronized in a loving dance.

  “Lift your knees, Jonathan,” Kit instructed. “Let Devon in.” Even as he continued preparing Devon with one hand, he reached around and palmed Devon’s hard cock with the other, slicking it and guiding it to Jonathan’s entrance.

  Acceding without question, Jonathan opened himself to his lovers. Hearing Kit direct Devon made him feel as if both of them were making love to him at the same time. Jonathan closed his hand over Kit’s, raising his hips to draw Devon inside, a deep moan of pleasure escaping as the thick shaft filled him. He pulled Devon’s head back down to his, breathing the sound into his parted lips.

  Devon drank in Jonathan’s heated breath, filling his lungs with the sweetness of his groan as he sank into the welcoming sheath of his body. Kit’s breath was warm on his shoulders as he twisted
his fingers inside him, stretching Devon for his own penetration. Gripped fiercely by desire, Devon knew it was safe to ask for what he needed, knew his lovers cared for his pleasure as much as their own. “Now,” he pleaded, the head of his cock finding Jonathan’s sweet spot in the same instant Kit’s fingers rubbed against his. “Now, kitten, please….”

  It was a plea Kit had no intention of resisting, the nickname Devon used so rarely betraying the force of his need. He withdrew his fingers and slid into Devon’s willing depths, joining all three of them body and soul. He gasped anew at the sensation of heat and pressure on his erection. After the months they’d been together, he should have grown accustomed to it, as he should have grown accustomed to feeling his lovers inside him. While the sensation was now familiar, it had lost none of its power. He hoped it never would.

  Pressed on each side by warm male flesh, Devon felt the last of the nightmare’s terror melt away, powerless to stand against his love for the two men who accepted him and supported him without question. Kit’s thrusts pushed him deeper into Jonathan; Jonathan’s arms pulled them both closer, merging them into a single, loving being. Three sets of lips slid over any flesh they could reach. Three voices moaned and whispered words of need and desire as their bodies rocked together, climbing the pinnacle of ecstasy, moving faster and harder as they neared the peak. Devon fought to catch his breath as the pressure mounted inside him, panting at the sweet friction of filling and being filled. With a sudden gasp, he stiffened and cried out as his orgasm took him, leaving him shuddering between his two lovers, each aftershock triggering another ragged moan.

  The flare of Devon’s warmth spreading inside him pushed Jonathan nearly to the brink. He slid a hand between their bodies to finish himself, gasping as Kit’s palm closed over his own to guide their strokes. The movement stirred Devon inside Jonathan’s slick channel, triggering Jonathan’s shattering climax.

  The constrictions of Devon’s body around him and the slippery heat of Jonathan’s seed on his hand were enough to send Kit spiraling into release, his body jerking inside Devon’s, filling his lover with his essence. He regained just enough awareness to keep from slumping bonelessly. To avoid crushing Jonathan, he rolled to one side, pulling Devon with him so he still lay enfolded between the two of them.

  As his breathing slowly steadied, Devon drew comfort from the solid presence on either side. He’d thought he’d never know the pleasure of going under again, not after the way Robert had abused his trust, but giving in to Kit had been so easy, so good—the way it should be, had to be, for any kind of relationship to work. It seemed he had finally found a partner both strong enough and gentle enough to dominate him in all the right ways. Partners, Devon corrected himself, nestled between their warmth. He still had to face Robert, but the thought no longer had the power to terrify him, because he would not be facing him alone.

  Chapter 3: Bad Blood

  KIT WAITED impatiently in the trailer, having sent Stacy and Carol home early, promising he’d be able to provide any help Devon or Jonathan might need removing their makeup. Devon had spent the entire day ragging on him for one thing after another, and while it was all in fun, Kit didn’t want an audience for what he had planned. After the tense few days they’d had with Devon’s nightmares, Kit hardly begrudged Devon a little fun, but it was time to turn the tables. Hearing Jonathan’s and Devon’s voices outside, he positioned himself by the door, ready to tackle Devon as soon as he came inside.

  “At least when we were at Camelot we didn’t have to wear this bloody armor,” Devon griped, looking back at Jonathan as he entered the trailer. “I can’t wait to get out of—” His words were cut off as a body slammed against his, knocking him into Jonathan. Acting on instinct, he kicked out at his attacker’s feet, throwing the body roughly to the floor before he realized who it was.

  Kit gasped as he landed hard with Devon, still in full costume, crushing him. “Get off me, you wanker,” he protested, laughing. “You’re heavy.”

  Jonathan offered an arm to help Devon lever up off Kit’s slighter frame. “I don’t think you quite have the hang of it yet, Kit-Kat,” he teased. “When you tackle somebody, you’re supposed to end up on top.”

  “I would have if you hadn’t been behind him to catch him,” Kit groused good-naturedly. He gave Devon a once-over. “Get changed. When we get home, I’ll give you a proper wrestling match.”

  Devon snickered, though the image of Kit’s lissome body wrestling with his was enough to start him hardening under Lancelot’s leathers. “We’ll have to think of some kind of handicap to make it a proper match,” he teased. “What do you think, Jon? Maybe I should tie one arm behind my back to make it even?”

  “I don’t need a handicap,” Kit protested. “You just wait. I can take you in a fair fight.”

  “I can see I’m going to be stuck playing referee.” Jonathan chuckled, stripping off his tunic. “Where are Carol and Stacy, anyway? I’m sure they’d enjoy watching the two of you go at it.”

  “I sent them home—I didn’t think Devon would want an audience to see me pummel him.” As much as the exhibitionist in Kit might get off on knowing someone was watching them, he doubted Devon, and more especially Jonathan, were ready to have them outed to the makeup team that way.

  “In your dreams,” Devon countered, losing no time peeling off the heavy layers of Lancelot’s costume. He fleetingly considered a shower, but the thought of wrestling with Kit while Jonathan watched was becoming more and more enticing. He settled for a quick scrub of his face with one of the wipes kept on the counter, handing another to Jonathan before dressing in his own clothes.

  Jonathan cleaned off his own makeup and, foregoing the constriction of boxers, stepped into his worn jeans and pulled his T-shirt over his head. He picked up the pieces of their costumes and hung them in the wardrobe closet. “There, now Stacy and Carol won’t crab at us in the morning. C’mon, let’s get home where I can grab a beer and the two of you can tussle all you want.”

  “What are we waiting for?” Devon challenged, heading toward the door. “May the best knight win!”

  Kit grinned at Jonathan, recognizing the quote from an early episode’s script. “Your delivery was better,” he joked, following Devon outside.

  “That’s why I became king and he winds up being banished,” Jonathan teased, though the reminder that Devon would not be needed on set while they filmed the episodes after Lancelot left Camelot made him fall into an uneasy silence. Knowing his tendency to overthink things, he’d tried to avoid looking too far ahead in the relationship, and he pushed the depressing thought from his mind for now. Time enough to deal with that later; right now he’d enjoy every minute they had with Devon. He picked up Excalibur, hoping to make time for some practice that evening, and followed his lovers out of the trailer.

  AS SOON as they got inside Jonathan’s house, Kit emptied his pockets and pulled off his belt and charms so they wouldn’t hurt Devon or get tangled up. “Let’s go, bad boy,” he challenged again, rocking lightly on the balls of his feet. “Time to put your money where your mouth is.”

  Devon couldn’t help but chuckle at Kit’s attitude, but his arousal was as strong as his amusement. He winked at Jonathan before pulling his shirt over his head, then tucked his left arm into the back of his belt. “Big talk from a little knight,” he teased, dropping into a crouch. “Bring it on, sunshine.”

  Kit circled Devon slowly, watching the way he moved, admiring his sleek grace but also looking for weaknesses. With one hand behind his back, Devon would be off-balance a little. Kit just had to figure out how to use that to his advantage. He lunged at Devon’s side, pushing so he’d fall in the direction of his bound arm.

  The strength of Kit’s lunge caught Devon by surprise. He’d thought he’d learned to stop underestimating Kit by now. He let his torso absorb the blow, wishing Kit had removed his shirt, too, so he could feel their bare skin touching.

  Jonathan could read Devon’s thoughts on his face
as the longing gaze swept over Kit’s torso. “Take off your shirt, Kit-Kat,” he suggested huskily, shifting on the couch to adjust his growing arousal.

  Taking a step back to make sure Devon didn’t attack him while his hands were tangled in his sleeves, Kit stripped the shirt off, leaving himself bare to the waist. As soon as it fell to the ground, he tackled Devon again, succeeding in taking him down this time.

  Kit’s weight settling on top of him had a definite effect on Devon’s libido. He pushed off the floor with his free elbow, maintaining the press of their bodies as he flipped Kit over, landed on top of him, and ground his erection into Kit’s hips. “Right where I want you,” he growled. “Underneath me.”

  Kit bucked up against Devon, dislodging him enough to roll out from beneath him. He grabbed the strong arms and rolled again. “What if I want you beneath me?” he challenged.

  The thrust of Kit’s hips against Devon’s, mimicking the action he hoped they’d soon be engaged in, goaded Devon into pushing back roughly. “Who said this was about what you want?” he countered, shifting suddenly and rolling atop Kit again.

  Kit’s moan at Devon’s commanding tone turned to a yelp of pain when something sharp slit the skin of his upper arm.

  “Fuck!” Jonathan cried out when he saw Kit roll into Excalibur. He leaped from the couch, grabbed the hilt of the sword, which he’d leaned against the wall, and moved it out of the way of the two struggling men. “Shit, I’m sorry, Kit! Are you okay?”

  Kit pushed up with his uninjured limb. He reached around to where it hurt, and his hand came back red with blood. “Fuck, I’m bleeding! I didn’t think they kept the swords sharp enough to cut. Thank God it isn’t a real sword or I’d be minus an arm. Can you tell how bad it is?”