“Is that another rhetorical question, Sir?”
Even Jonathan laughed at Kit’s pert response. “Right, then, but you’re not getting away with a few love pats this time,” Devon growled. He helped Kit straighten from his position over the chair and sat down in it, patting his knees. “Over m’lap with you, sunshine.”
Kit all but dove into place, the deep rasp of Devon’s voice doing unspeakable things to his already overactive libido. The inverted position caused the clamps to pull in the opposite direction on his pinched nipples, adding yet another layer of sensation. Squirming to get comfortable, he slid his hand around Devon’s ankle.
“Hands off!” Devon chided, pulling his ankle free of Kit’s grasp. “Jonathan, get over here and hold our boy’s hands still so he won’t be grabbing me with them.”
Jonathan responded with alacrity, crouching beside the chair and taking Kit’s hands into his. He intertwined their fingers, squeezing gently, wishing he dared to bend forward and press a kiss to Kit’s lips, though in Kit’s current position, Jonathan would have to be lying beneath him on the floor to reach Kit’s mouth. Even with Devon’s relaxed restrictions, Jonathan doubted he’d be able to get away with that.
Kit returned the squeeze, waiting with bated breath for the promised spanking.
“Count them out,” Devon said, wrapping one hand around Kit’s chest to brace him. “How many did I give you the last time?”
“Twelve, Sir,” Kit replied immediately.
“We’ll have that many again, then.” Devon flexed his wrist, letting the anticipation build before bringing his palm down on Kit’s cheek. The blow was harder than his earlier swats, and with the added stimulation of the butt plug, it was enough to set Kit undulating beneath him before he responded with a husky, “One.”
“One, Sir,” Devon prompted, adding a second whack to Kit’s other cheek.
“Two, Sir,” Kit answered, sounding a little breathless.
The appropriate appellation won Kit a slight caress of his reddened backside before Devon landed the third blow, a little lower than before.
“Three, Sir.” Kit’s voice cracked on the number. Devon paused, flicking the nipple clamp he could reach with the hand around Kit’s chest. Kit whimpered softly, and Devon rubbed his back with his other hand until he felt the muscles relax.
They made it to seven before Kit’s voice cracked again. Devon paused longer this time, reaching between Kit’s legs to play with his bollocks until he had Kit breathless for a different reason. He spaced the next four blows so they hit spots he hadn’t struck before—the uppermost curve of Kit’s buttocks, the tops of his thighs—until Kit’s voice broke again and he struggled to choke out a garbled “Eleven. Sir.”
This time Devon focused his attentions on the butt plug. Each blow had already stirred it in its channel, but Devon worked it in earnest, rubbing the head against Kit’s prostate until he judged Kit was nearly ready to come a second time before he stopped. Caressing Kit’s back in a loving massage, he delivered the last blow firmly across the center of Kit’s arse, driving the plug as deep as it could go with the force of the blow.
“Twelve, Sir,” Kit said with a gasp of relief, shoulders sagging as he relaxed. His entire body throbbed, his chest from the pull of the weights when each blow made the chains swing, his backside from the swats, his erection from the pressure of the plug against his prostate. When Devon didn’t immediately give him another order, he wondered if the session was over. He rather hoped it wasn’t.
“You did well, lad, very well,” Devon said, rubbing his tingling palm. It was a good thing he had something else in mind for what came next. “Jonathan, help Kit stand up.”
Jonathan had held on to Kit’s hands throughout the spanking, his grasp tightening reflexively at each blow. He’d been on the receiving end of Devon’s spankings before, but never while wearing a plug, and imagining what it would feel like to have Devon’s swats pressing against it made his own ass clench and his cock twitch in reaction. While he didn’t want to lose contact with Kit by letting go of his hands, it would be too awkward to help him up that way, so he braced Kit’s hands against his thighs and gently lifted Kit’s shoulders instead, easing him back onto his feet. As soon as Kit was upright, he stood himself and stepped around the chair, wrapping Kit in his arms. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmured, giving in to the temptation to kiss his lover. “You took all twelve and didn’t make a sound except to count them.”
Devon let Kit lean into Jonathan’s embrace without protest, knowing Kit would need the support to stand steady, at least for a few minutes. Watching his two lovers together gave him an idea, and he rapidly adjusted his plans for the rest of the session. While Jonathan whispered praise into Kit’s ear, Devon moved the chair aside and picked up the crop from the bed, tucking it into the back waistband of his leather pants.
“Enough of that, now,” Devon said, working a hand between Jonathan and Kit to tug on the weighted nipple chain. “I expect you’d both be more comfortable without these poking and pulling.” He turned Kit in Jonathan’s arms until they stood back to chest. Resting his thumbs on the ends of the nipple clamps, he slid the adjusting beads down with his fingers, releasing the pressure and removing both clamps at the same time.
Kit let out a hoarse shout as the blood rushed back into his nipples, sending a flash of pain and pleasure along his nerves. His head fell back against Jonathan’s shoulder, making him grateful for the support. Panting, he opened eyes that had fallen closed and met Devon’s glittering gaze. He couldn’t stop another groan as his Dom lowered his head and licked each swollen bud thoroughly.
Jonathan slid his arms to Kit’s hips, holding him stable as Devon laved his chest. He would have gladly assisted Devon in that cause, but it was almost as good to feel Kit leaning back against him. Jonathan’s cock rested awkwardly against Kit’s ass, the crease it would have nestled into obstructed by the base of the butt plug. The reddened flesh was warm against Jonathan’s, making him wonder how much Devon would object if he slid down to soothe the marks of Devon’s hand in the same way Devon was easing the sting of Kit’s pinched nipples. Now that he had Kit in his arms, Jonathan couldn’t bear the thought of being relegated back to the role of mere observer for whatever else Devon had in store for Kit.
As if he could read Jonathan’s thoughts, Devon raised his head, meeting Jonathan’s gaze. Taking a step back, he turned Kit in Jonathan’s arms again, putting them face-to-face. Kit’s face lifted to Jonathan’s and their lips met, as naturally as their bodies fit together, chest to chest, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. Devon enjoyed the picture the two made a moment more and then tapped Jonathan on the shoulder, reclaiming his attention.
“Hold Kit just like that,” he instructed Jonathan. Having Jonathan’s strength to lean on, literally as well as figuratively, would ground Kit far more securely than any restraints—enough, Devon hoped, to get them through this last stretch of Kit’s limits. “But keep your hands above his waist or I won’t be responsible for the consequences.”
Kit didn’t even think to look back at Devon to see what he had planned. He’d seen the riding crop on the bed earlier, the only implement Devon hadn’t used on him yet, so he figured that was next. At the moment, though, it could have been the cane in Devon’s hand and he didn’t think he’d be worried. Not with Jonathan holding him so securely and Devon touching him so tenderly. He tilted his head up for another kiss as Jonathan’s hands splayed across his shoulder blades, rubbing his distended nipples through Jonathan’s chest hair. Kit barely even jumped when the leather slapper nipped the upper curve of his arse.
The last tightness in Devon’s chest eased when Kit scarcely flinched at the slap of the crop. He hadn’t talked with Kit about it first, hoping his lover trusted him enough to accept that the unfamiliar instrument would not be more than he could endure. That Kit had let him continue without protest filled him with pride and love.
Jonathan raised his head from the kiss to look over K
it’s shoulder at Devon. The impact of the crop had barely stirred Kit against him, and Kit hadn’t reacted in pain, but Devon had never used the crop on either of them before, so Jonathan had nothing to compare it with. It looked intimidating, but it didn’t seem as painful as the wooden paddle Devon had spanked him with before. Mindful of Devon’s warning, Jonathan let one hand slide down Kit’s back to rest on the swell of his ass. He had no doubts that Devon would not use anything that could actually hurt Kit; he was just curious what the crop would feel like.
Holding back a smile, Devon aimed the next stroke higher, letting the edge of the slapper catch Jonathan’s hand. He knew from experience it wouldn’t give more than a slight sting; though Jonathan’s hand wasn’t as sensitive as Kit’s backside, especially after the spanking, Devon wasn’t wielding the crop hard enough to truly hurt either of them. “Are you asking me to use this on you next?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Jonathan.
“Whatever would please you most, Sir,” Jonathan answered softly. He hadn’t meant to turn Devon’s focus away from Kit, so he raised his arm back to Kit’s shoulder blade, meeting Kit’s questioning gaze with a smile and another lingering kiss.
The exchange between the two penetrated Kit’s consciousness, but it wasn’t enough to rouse him from the plane of euphoria where he was drifting, endorphins and passion mixing together to leave his heart pounding and his head spinning. As long as one or both of them kept touching him, he didn’t care what they did to each other. He just needed their hands or their lips on him. Since Jonathan seemed perfectly happy to oblige, Kit lost himself in their kiss, each little bite of the crop causing his hips to rock against Jonathan’s cock until he was rutting against him like a cat in heat, moaning into the kiss and almost as desperate to come as he had been when Jonathan was rimming him.
After a dozen strikes of the crop, Devon realized Kit was beyond feeling the blows unless he was willing to use far more force. That wasn’t the purpose of this exercise. He’d wanted to show Kit that he could face a challenge that pushed him beyond his comfort zone, to erase the perception of failure that colored their previous scene, and he’d succeeded beyond his hopes. Devon let the crop fall to his side. Kit didn’t seem to notice the cessation any more than he had the blows, so lost was he in Jonathan’s embrace and kisses. Suddenly, the arousal Devon had forced himself to ignore as he saw to Kit refused to be repressed any longer. Unfastening the remaining buttons on his leather trousers, he let his cock spring free, wanting nothing more than to bury it deep in Kit’s arse.
Well, why not?
Devon spared only a moment to pull a fresh tube of lube from his dresser drawer. He might have let Jonathan open Kit for the butt plug with nothing but spit, but after Kit had stood up to everything Devon had thrown at him, he wasn’t about to risk hurting him now by fucking him dry. After spreading a generous coating of lube on his insistent erection, Devon tossed the tube on the bed next to the crop and stepped behind Kit. He pulled the plug out, smeared the gel left on his fingers around Kit’s hole, and thrust inside, one hand gripping Kit’s hip, the other grasping Jonathan’s shoulder for leverage as he claimed Kit in the most primal of ways.
Kit cried out as Devon filled him, his body rocking hard against Jonathan. Jonathan pushed back with equal force, providing an erotic frottage that left Kit incoherent with need. His lovers set such a hard pace that he could not find a balance to move between them. He could only stand there locked in their embrace and let them ravish him. Kit thought that was the finest idea he had heard in a month of Sundays.
His head fell back against Devon’s shoulder as a particularly powerful thrust nearly lifted him off the ground. Someone’s hands, Devon’s, he thought, worked their way between Kit’s and Jonathan’s chests to pinch his nipples, tearing another cry from his throat. He was soaring so high he thought he’d never come down, surrounded by his two lovers, driven out of his mind by their attentions, their love and faith in him. His body shuddered, fighting for the release the cock ring held back. He tried to let it go as he had the first time, climaxing despite the barrier, but he couldn’t find the focus to release the tension. His bollocks drew up tight, his cock twitched with every brush of Jonathan’s shaft against his, his nipples ached, and his entire body tingled. “Please!” he begged. “Let me come!”
When Devon’s first thrust had slammed Kit against Jonathan, the only way Jonathan could keep on his feet was to push back just as forcefully. That this had the side effect of dragging his engorged cock firmly against Kit’s was an unexpected bonus. Jonathan’s grip on Kit’s shoulder tightened, his other hand reaching farther to grab hold of Devon, needing the contact with both his lovers as much as the added stability. Every snap of Devon’s hips pressed Kit against him, until it almost felt as if Devon was fucking them both. Every pump of Jonathan’s hips in return increased the friction of cock against cock, setting sparks flaring through Jonathan’s nerves. Kit’s cry, echoing the chant growing in his own mind, was the match that set him off.
A nod from Devon granting him permission, Jonathan dropped his hand from Kit’s shoulder between their bodies, fumbling blindly until he found the clasp of Kit’s cock ring. As soon as he’d snapped it free, he groped for his own, shaking so hard he could barely work the release. Devon slammed into Kit again, making Kit’s cock jump against Jonathan’s as he came. The spurt of hot fluid between their bodies, easing the friction and letting them slide more freely against each other, was enough to trigger Jonathan’s orgasm. Suddenly it was Devon holding them up as Jonathan shuddered in the throes of a climax that burned through his blood to every cell in his body.
The weight of both his lovers trembling against him was all Devon needed to spark his own release. With a guttural cry, he froze against Kit’s back, his arms tightening around Kit and Jonathan, tears springing to his eyes as he shook with the ecstasy that flooded him. Luckily, Jonathan’s support was enough to keep them all from sagging to the floor in a sated heap.
“Bed,” Kit croaked, his balance nonexistent after everything Devon and Jonathan had made him feel. Fortunately, they seemed to agree with him, shuffling toward the wide expanse of Devon’s bed and collapsing across it, Kit still caught firmly between them. He sighed with disappointment as the movement jostled Devon’s cock from his passage, but he could feel the stickiness between his cheeks, and Devon was still pressed up against his back, Jonathan nestled against his chest, prolonging the sense of being precious to them both. “Thank you,” he murmured after a while.
“Still feel like a failure?” Devon asked with a lazy smile.
Kit chuckled huskily. “No. Do you?”
Devon shook his head. “I feel like the luckiest bastard in the world.”
“I think that makes three of us,” Jonathan said, stretching his arm to enclose Kit and Devon both.
Chapter 19: The Send-off
“I THINK today might well have been the most intense scene between Arthur and Lancelot yet,” Kit said as they drove home from the day’s filming. “I couldn’t decide whether Arthur felt more betrayed because Lancelot slept with Guinevere or because Lancelot didn’t sleep with him.”
“And given that Jon shagged me six ways from Sunday not six hours before, he deserves an Oscar nomination for his performance.” Devon rubbed a hand over his arse with a grin. “M’backside’s still feeling it.”
“Don’t think there’s a category for ‘Best Performance Boffing Your Costar.’” Jonathan turned the corner and pulled up in front of Devon’s rental house. “Besides, miniseries aren’t eligible for Oscars. Not that it wouldn’t be quite an acceptance speech,” he added with a chuckle.
Kit laughed. “I can see it now. ‘Well, you see, Niall had all these ideas about highlighting the homoerotic tension between the knights, and Lancelot was such a stud, and I just couldn’t help myself.’ Something like that, Jon?” he teased, trailing his fingers over the backs of both his lovers’ necks from his place in the back seat.
“I was thinking abo
ut recognizing the competition from my fellow nominees,” Jonathan countered, capturing Kit’s wandering hand and pressing a kiss to the teasing fingertips. “You and Devon would both get my vote.”
“Can you imagine Niall filming a ‘For Your Consideration’ teaser for that award?” Devon’s voice was shaking with laughter as they got out of the car. “At least he seemed happy with today’s take. He shouldn’t need Lancelot on set for the next couple of weeks.”
Jonathan’s grin wavered at the reminder of Devon’s upcoming absence as they entered the house. “You’re still planning to fly to LA during your break?”
“Might as well take advantage of the time,” Devon agreed, hoping he sounded more positive than he felt. “The solicitors have most of the terms worked through, finally. Just a few more details to iron out and we should be able to sign the papers to finalize the divorce.”
“You could wait until you’re sure they’re ready,” Kit said, not wanting to beg, but he didn’t want Devon gone for weeks. He could hardly stand it when they were apart for hours. It was why he’d come home from London early and gotten an eyeful a couple of weeks earlier. That had been traumatic, but it had made them stronger in the end.
Devon shook his head. “I’m ready to have it done.” Not that he was looking forward to having to face the reality of his failed marriage, but his relationship with Marcy had been over for almost a year, and in trouble long before that. “I won’t enjoy being gone—or the bloody long flights there and back—but at least I’ll have coming back to both of you to look forward to.”
“You can spend the time on the planes thinking up all sorts of devilish things to do to us when you get home,” Kit proposed, rubbing the tense muscles in Devon’s neck. “That will distract you from where you are.”
No Limits Page 25
