No Limits

by Nicki Bennett

  Jonathan was so centered on the soft whimpers escaping from around the gag in Kit’s mouth that Devon’s actions took him by surprise. He couldn’t hold back a gasp of shock when Devon grasped the plug and pulled it free, making Kit tremble as his mouth closed even tighter around him. When Devon’s thick cock drove into him, replacing the momentary emptiness, it was so much better that Jonathan struggled not to push back against him, not to plead for Devon to fuck him hard and fast, to come inside him and to let him make Kit come.

  Lifting his head as best he could, Kit tried to see what Devon was doing. The sight that met his eyes left him trembling. Devon’s golden body drove into Jonathan, forcing his hungry mouth farther down Kit’s cock. Kit’s head fell back with another groan, every muscle in his body taut as he fought the bonds, not to end the scene, but to join in, to touch his lovers, to give back to them the pleasure they were bestowing on him. His back arched as his bollocks drew up again, pulsing hard as if to disgorge their load, the fluid held back only by the tension of the ring.

  The tableau beneath Devon was so intense—Jonathan’s taut arse spread wide as he pistoned in and out of it, Jonathan’s mouth filled with Kit’s straining cock, Kit watching them both with wide, pleading eyes—that Devon’s control was evaporating fast. He tightened his grip on Jonathan’s flank, reaching his other hand between them to grasp for his cock, groping blindly until he could close his fingers around the circlet constricting its base. “Take off Kit’s ring,” he instructed Jonathan hoarsely, fighting to hold back a few moments longer once he released the pressure of his own ring. “Let him come.”

  Given the permission to touch he’d been longing for, Jonathan was quick to reach for Kit, cupping his sac in one palm as he worked the catch on the ring, sliding his mouth upward as he went. The instant he reached the head, the ring popped free and Kit erupted, pumping burst after burst of creamy fluid that Jonathan tried to catch, closing around the fountaining tip and working his tongue to capture more of Kit’s taste.

  Kit screamed his release against the gag, the sudden cessation of pressure allowing him to climax powerfully. His body collapsed on the table as all the tension gripping him swept out through his cock. He wanted to lift his head, to watch Devon and Jonathan come, but he didn’t have the strength to move.

  Even after Kit’s cock stopped twitching, Jonathan held the softening shaft in his mouth, lapping it gently as Kit slumped bonelessly beneath him. Without the drive to make Kit come, he could no longer distract himself from Devon’s thickness moving inside him, Devon’s hand on his shaft, removing his own ring. The strap slipped free of his cock, and he clenched his fists against the tabletop, fighting the need to empty his balls, wanting to feel Devon come inside him first.

  Devon had expected Jonathan to come as explosively as Kit had as soon as he was freed from the restriction of the ring. That his sub was somehow managing to hold back from climaxing made the Dom in him swell with pride. “Come,” he urged, rubbing his thumb over the slit of Jonathan’s cock.

  “You first,” Jonathan managed to utter, letting Kit slide free and lifting his head, his hands clutching the side of the table. His breath came in ragged bursts as he struggled against letting his orgasm overwhelm him. “Please, Sir.”

  Nothing could have made Devon prouder, and nothing could have held him back after Jonathan’s words. Tightening his grip, he thrust in powerful strokes until the tension coiling inside him snapped and his climax tore through him, his body shaking as he filled Jonathan’s channel with hot seed. “Ah fuck,” he cried, sagging forward to brace himself against the table, the change in angle just enough to rub the head of his shaft against Jonathan’s prostate. With a garbled cry, Jonathan came hard, spraying over Devon’s hand and Kit’s belly, shuddering through each aftershock until his knees buckled and he sank onto his heels, dislodging Devon with a soft moan of loss.

  The three men slumped against the table and one another in a sweaty, salty heap, their unsteady breathing the only sound for long minutes. Finally, Devon pushed back and rose carefully to his feet. He rubbed Jonathan’s back and bent to kiss the nape of his neck before circling to the head of the table, unbuckling the gag, and gently removing it from Kit’s mouth. As soon as it was free, he knelt to take the reddened lips in a tender kiss that grew more intense as Kit’s tongue swept into his mouth.

  Watching his lovers kiss and recognizing the game was over, Jonathan untied the restraints from Kit’s ankles and moved forward to begin working on his wrists. The motion was enough to recall Devon’s attention, and he removed the final restraint, helping Kit sit up slowly.

  Letting the scarf fall from his grasp, Kit stretched a hand out to each of his lovers. “You’re incredible,” he told them, his voice raspy from the gag. He turned and looked at Devon. “Better now?” he asked softly.

  “Only because I’m with the two of you,” Devon answered, taking each of his lovers’ hands and squeezing them tightly.

  Rising to his feet, Jonathan tugged gently at the two hands clasping his. “I need to feel both of you against me,” he urged. “Let’s take this to bed.”

  Kit’s smile lit up his face. “All in favor, say aye.”

  Three voices uttered “aye” in unison. Laughing, they made their way into the bedroom. They snuggled together in Devon’s bed, kissing and stroking lightly, not pushing for more yet, although Kit doubted it would be long. As he lay there, spooned around Devon’s back with Jonathan on the other side, he let hope bloom in his heart. They loved one another, not just in the silence of their hearts, but out loud, committed. He knew what Devon, and probably even Jonathan, would say. They’d say he was naïve for believing that love was enough to take them past the end of filming, and maybe they were right. They’d both been in committed relationships before and had those fall apart, but Kit wasn’t ready to give up. The three of them had been through so much already to get where they were. The impossible had already happened. Jonathan was bisexual rather than straight, as he’d first thought, and was interested in both Kit and Devon. Devon was willing to share Jonathan and interested in Kit too. Somehow they’d managed to fall in love, all three of them, a gift beyond price. Together they’d stared down the demons from Devon’s past and vanquished them. No, too much had already come right despite the odds for Kit to be anything less than optimistic. They had months still before filming was over, time to make plans and figure out a way to keep this good thing, this amazing, wonderful, out-of-this-world thing going. That wasn’t naïveté—it was faith.

  Chapter 10: Playing with Fire

  WITH A sigh, Devon settled onto the couch, flipping through the channels until he found the footie match on one of the local stations. “It’s so peaceful with the youngsters gone for the weekend,” he observed, propping his bare feet on the table and taking a sip of his beer. It was rare for them to have a full weekend with no filming, but their director was using the time to work on final edits for the upcoming weeks’ episodes of the Camelot miniseries. “I miss Kit, but I don’t miss the Orkney brothers dropping in unannounced and staying until all hours of the morning.”

  “Drinking all the beer and leaving popcorn kernels down the sofa cushions,” Jonathan agreed, swallowing a mouthful of his own brew before setting the bottle next to a flickering candle on the table and sliding down to rest his head in Devon’s lap. Kit had gone to London the night before for a concert with the actors who portrayed Gareth, Gawain, Gaheris, and Agravaine. Jonathan still marveled at Kit choosing two lovers more than a dozen years his senior rather than someone closer to his own age, though as far as he knew, all the Orkney actors were straight. Of course, Jonathan himself had been straight—or at least he’d never acted on his attraction toward men—before Kit and Devon seduced him. In any case, he wasn’t about to question his good fortune. Lifting the hem of Devon’s rugby shirt, he pressed a noisy kiss to the golden skin of his lover’s abdomen before shifting half on one hip, just enough to see the television screen. He sighed, his breath warm agai
nst Devon’s thigh. “Gonna be a long weekend without Kit, though.”

  Devon smiled ruefully, waiting for Jonathan to settle before resting a hand on his shoulder. “We could have gone with them,” he offered again. “They wouldn’t have turned us down.”

  “Oh no,” Jonathan muttered. He shook his head, his stubbled cheek rubbing against the soft fabric of Devon’s track pants. “I have no desire to have my eardrums blown out by that shit the Orkneys call music. I’d rather hear your orders without you having to shout them,” he added with a grin.

  Devon chuckled. “I wouldn’t be likely to be giving orders with the Orkneys around anyway. I don’t mind their knowing the three of us are together, but they don’t need to know what goes on in our bedrooms,” he countered, his cock starting to stir at Jonathan’s movements. “Careful there, or we won’t be watching much footie this evening.”

  “I think I’m flattered.” Jonathan laughed, rubbing more deliberately over the growing bulge in Devon’s crotch. “More distracting than football? Of course it’s not Man U, or I’d never stand a chance.”

  Devon flushed a little. “A man’s entitled to his vices.”

  “Oh, I’ve come to appreciate your vices,” Jonathan purred, twisting until he could mouth the hard column of flesh through the soft fabric. His own cock was thickening against the zipper of his jeans, but he resisted the urge to reach down and cup himself, channeling his arousal toward heightening Devon’s instead. At Devon’s hands, Jonathan had not only come to terms with his bisexuality but also discovered the pleasure of occasionally submitting to his more dominant lovers. “Very, very much.”

  “Good to hear,” Devon choked out, his hips bucking up toward the moist heat that wafted through the cloth, “although you might change your mind if you knew just how rough I can get.” His fingers burrowed into Jonathan’s hair, keeping him in place.

  “Mmmmn… you’ll have to show me.” Jonathan moaned on a shortened breath before sucking harder, feeling Devon twitch through the wet cloth. In Devon he’d found a lover who shared his appreciation for a bit of rough play, though Kit’s aversion to intentional pain had limited how deeply they’d explored that aspect of their relationship. Jonathan had hopes that this weekend would change that. “After I make you come,” he added, biting down gently as his hands spread Devon’s thighs wide to give him more room. He didn’t make a move to pull the fabric away, the idea of Devon’s cream soaking the already sodden cloth making him surprisingly hot. He worked his tongue along the length of the thick column, sucking hard on the way down, using his teeth again on the way back up, doing everything he could think of to drive the man beneath him crazy.

  Devon bit back a curse at the sudden rough stimulation. His lovers regularly made him feel like a teenager again, with all of a teenager’s lack of self-control. He started to hold back automatically, but then he changed his mind. If he came now, it would give him that much more control later, when he pounded Jonathan’s fine arse into the mattress. Throwing his head back, he let his climax take him, his legs jerking as he came, one of them bumping the candle and splattering wax on the skin of his ankle.

  “Oh fuck! Sorry!” Jonathan cried, righting the candle and grabbing Devon’s foot, trying to brush away the cooling wax. “Did it burn you?”

  “Nothing to worry about,” Devon replied, an idea forming in his head. He reached for the remote and switched off the television. He didn’t want any distractions for what he had in mind. “Do you trust me?”

  Jonathan paused from peeling the bits of hardened wax from Devon’s skin and looked up, caught by the tone of his lover’s voice. Ever since Robert (or “He Who Will Not Be Named,” as Kit called him—Jonathan had his own unutterable names for the bastard), they’d both done their best to rebuild Devon’s confidence as a Dom. This was the first time Jonathan had heard Devon speak with the same easy assurance he’d had before his twisted former Dom had returned to torment him, and it made Jonathan’s heart swell as much as it hardened his cock. Releasing Devon’s foot and sliding to his knees, he looked up with love and trust shining from his eyes. “You know I do,” he answered softly. “Always.”

  Devon’s smile grew at Jonathan’s reply, at the expression on his face that radiated confidence in his Dom. “Get undressed,” he directed, moving everything that littered the tabletop: magazines, the week’s accumulated mail, Jonathan’s beer. “Lie down on the table,” he added, picking up the candle, thankful that even now, the candles he bought were always safe for play.

  Arousal coursing through his veins, Jonathan pulled the T-shirt over his head, letting it drop to the floor before unzipping his jeans and uttering a sigh of relief when his cock sprang free to stand erect against his stomach. He quickly kicked away the denim and bowed his head to Devon in a gesture of respect before sitting on the end of the table.

  It was such a simple gesture, that inclination of the head, but it had an instant effect on Devon’s libido, already revving hard from the blowjob Jonathan had just given him. “Lie back,” he urged, his hand going to Jonathan’s shoulder to support him on his way down.

  Lifting his head to let Devon slide a small pillow from the couch beneath it, Jonathan took a deep breath and released it slowly, letting his muscles go limp as he exhaled. He shifted to align the pillow more comfortably under his neck and then stilled, looking up at Devon in quiet anticipation. He wasn’t sure what in the previous moments had piqued Devon’s excitement, but his nerves were already quivering beneath his calm demeanor.

  Seeing Jonathan settled comfortably, Devon picked up the fat purple candle. “This will sting a little bit,” he warned, tipping the candle so a droplet of wax landed on Jonathan’s shoulder. He gave it a second to cool before lowering his head and tracing the edge of the wax with his tongue.

  Jonathan wasn’t able to hold back the flinch when the first heated drop hit his skin. It burned a little, but the pain eased quickly, especially when Devon soothed the skin around the irregular purple blotch of wax. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing through the last of the discomfort before opening them again to find Devon’s emerald gaze watching him closely. So much love was imbued in that look that his chest tightened, and he had to blink back a sudden tingle of tears. Nodding minutely, he kept his eyes on Devon’s and tried to prepare himself for the next contact.

  “A royal color for the King of the Britons,” Devon commented as he studied Jonathan’s face, his chest swelling with pride at how well Jonathan had taken the first experience. Seeing readiness there, he turned his attention to his lover’s torso, trying to decide where to let the next drop fall. Tilting his wrist, he drizzled a short line of wax across the top of Jonathan’s chest. Then, because the asymmetry offended him, he drew a matching line down the other side and leaned back to examine the design.

  “I always thought Lancelot had the soul of an artist,” Jonathan commented softly once the sting of discomfort passed. He wasn’t sure if he was expected to keep quiet, but Devon hadn’t forbidden him to speak. The mood felt different today, more relaxed than their previous games, not as formal. He wasn’t sure if that was because it was just the two of them, or if Devon was going easy on him, or if this was one more aspect of breaking free from Robert’s influence, but Jonathan decided he liked it. Of course, he liked pretty much anything that involved Devon and bodily contact. “Never been a canvas before.”

  “I told you I’d broaden your horizons,” Devon joked, his laughter shaking the candle and spattering drops of wax across Jonathan’s chest, one of them fairly sizable. He winced in sympathy. “Sorry, love,” he murmured, kissing the reddening skin around the thick blob.

  “Mmnn,” Jonathan hummed, “’s okay.” He arched slightly, wishing he could reach up to pull Devon’s head back for another kiss, but some instinct told him that would be going too far. “Do that again?” he asked instead.

  Surprised at the request, Devon acquiesced nonetheless, letting another large dollop of wax fall, this time onto Jonathan’s stoma
ch. Instead of kissing that flat plane, he lowered his head and captured his lover’s lips, tongue slipping between them to plunder the hot cavern of Jonathan’s mouth. He’d known Jonathan would make a magnificent sub, and this was just proving him right. He wondered briefly just how far he could take Jonathan without Kit’s dislike of pain holding him back. Lifting his head again, he decided to find out. Aiming carefully, he let a small drop fall directly onto Jonathan’s nipple.

  Catching his breath in a truncated hiss, Jonathan let the pain wash through him, blinking when it suddenly stopped feeling like pain, the heat spreading through his chest, through his veins. Endorphins, he thought, and then he blinked again and willed himself to stop thinking, waiting for the next drop to fall.

  Leaning forward, Devon licked lightly at Jonathan’s other nipple, wetting it and blowing across it gently, bringing it to a tight peak before letting a slightly larger drop land on the damp flesh. He couldn’t help appreciating the line of Jonathan’s body as his chest arched up slightly, then settled back onto the table.

  Jonathan found himself anticipating where the next drop would fall, each sensation—the burn as the wax hit his skin, the tightness as it cooled and shrank, the slight tug when movement pulled on the hairs caught in the wax—adding to the fire in his blood. He could feel his cock stirring, thickening, and wondered how long it would be before Devon noticed it. Just the thought of the wax hitting that delicate flesh was enough to make his shaft twitch against his belly.

  Pausing a moment to take in his creation, Devon smiled as he noticed the bobbing cock rising from its bed of wiry curls. He didn’t ask, not in words, but he let his hand hover above Jonathan’s groin for several moments, drawing his attention and giving him the opportunity to use his safeword before tipping the candle to send a small drop onto Jonathan’s erection. “Eager much?” he teased when Jonathan’s eyes shut and his hips jerked upward.