Jonathan’s lips met Devon’s tenderly, the wonder of the moment even stronger than his need for release. His hands covered Kit’s on Devon’s hips, twining their fingers together. The only drawback of their current position was that he couldn’t kiss Kit the way he could Devon, but he squeezed Kit’s fingers, knowing the fullness of his emotions was strong enough for Kit to feel through even that tentative contact.
When the burn of the initial stretch faded, Devon turned his head, Jonathan’s lips continuing to nuzzle his cheek as Kit’s lowered to meet Devon’s. Wrapped in their arms, surrounded, filled by their bodies and their love, was a feeling he never wanted to end, and even though he knew that as on edge as they all were, it couldn’t last long once they started to move, he needed to feel more. “Now,” he murmured against Kit’s lips, squeezing Jonathan’s arms. “Love me.”
“Always,” Kit promised, beginning to thrust slowly into Devon’s body, trying to find the balance that would let him and Jonathan move, together or in counterpoint, to give everyone the most pleasure. After a moment’s fumbling, they settled on moving in counterpoint so one of them was always filling Devon and their cocks rubbed against each other with constant friction. Kit’s heart swelled as the love he felt for Devon and Jonathan rose up within him, threatening to bubble over and out of him. “Not gonna last long,” he warned them, his climax beginning to tingle in his balls.
“Me either,” Jonathan agreed hoarsely. He loved every and any way they made love, but this, the slick glide of Kit’s cock against his and the tight clench of Devon’s channel around them both, connected them in a way that filled his heart as much as it fanned his arousal. He worked a hand between his hip and Devon’s, sweat and the precome leaking from the head of Devon’s cock easing the slide as he wrapped his fingers around the stiff shaft. The way it jumped in his palm told him Devon wasn’t far behind. “Take what you need,” he told Devon, shifting his legs to give him a little more room to move. “And take us with you.”
“You—were,” Devon gasped, rocking into Jonathan’s grasp, chasing the final touch that would send him flying. “With me.” Kit’s lips closed around his shoulder, sucking at the muscle, and he groaned, throwing back his head to increase the contact. “Always.”
The erotic frottage was too much for Kit’s control. He thrust forcefully against Devon, his entire body jerking as he climaxed hard, the continued movement of Jonathan’s cock against his own prolonging his release. He started to pull back, but Devon’s voice stopped him.
“Don’t.” Devon clenched to hold Kit in, drawing a hiss from Jonathan, who bucked up beneath him. “Want you—both—inside me—when I—come—”
The wetness of Kit’s come let Jonathan slide just a little bit easier, a little bit deeper, and when Devon clenched around them, his panting voice taking on the deep-timbred accent Jonathan only heard in their most intimate moments, his own orgasm overwhelmed him. His fist tightened around Devon as he froze, every muscle and nerve and cell in his body caught in the rush of pleasure welling through him.
Devon teetered on the brink. He was so, so close…. If only Jonathan’s hand hadn’t stopped moving…. He hitched between the two bodies surrounding him, straining for just that fraction more.
Realizing Devon hadn’t come a second time, Kit slid his hands around Devon’s chest, seeking his nipples. He wished he could reach for Devon’s bollocks, but their current position didn’t allow for that. He would have to settle for pinching the sensitive peaks and hoping that was enough to push Devon over the edge.
Blinking out of the haze of his climax, Jonathan wove his free hand into Devon’s hair, pulling his head down for a kiss, sliding his other hand up Devon’s still-hard cock. When he reached the tip, he rubbed his thumb over the slit, sliding his tongue deep into Devon’s mouth at the same moment.
Devon gave himself up to his lovers’ hands, letting their touch set him flying. He should have felt trapped between them as he shuddered and shook with the force of his second climax, but the press of their bodies, the damp glide of their skin against his, their fullness as the waves of his orgasm rippled around them, grounded him and at the same time set him free. He had bared his soul to these men, and they had accepted it, accepted him and loved him, and whether they were together or apart, nothing would change that.
Even though Kit had softened somewhat, the spasms of Devon’s climax squeezed him hard enough to send new tremors running through his body. He pressed as close to Devon as he could get, wanting to stay joined with his lovers for as long as possible. Eventually, though, his cock slipped free. He rolled to the side, urging Devon and Jonathan to turn with him so they still had Devon sandwiched between them, just without crushing Jonathan beneath their weight.
Jonathan almost missed the burden of both their bodies pressing him into the mattress when they rolled away. He wrapped himself against Devon, stretching an arm across to reach for Kit, not willing to lose contact with either of them. “Wow,” he exhaled, catching his breath. “Not that I didn’t hate it when you were gone, but that was some homecoming.”
Kit grinned. “If it weren’t for the separation that led up to it, I wouldn’t complain about that kind of homecoming more often,” Kit agreed, squeezing Jonathan’s hand and pressing a kiss to Devon’s sweaty shoulder. He snuggled in closer, if that were possible. “Although I think we still have some catching up to do.”
Sated by two climaxes in short succession after a twelve-hour flight, Devon felt his eyes drifting shut. “Mnnn,” he agreed sleepily. “T’morrow… your arses are mine.” Yawning widely, he curled into his lovers’ warmth and slipped into the first decent sleep he’d had in six bloody weeks.
Chapter 22: The Gift That Keeps on Coming
“HEY, DEVON,” Kit called from the room Devon had turned into a sort of office. He’d been checking his email on Devon’s computer and started surfing once he finished. “Come look at this.”
Devon pulled his head from inside the refrigerator, along with the last two bottles of beer from the bottom shelf. It was a good thing Jonathan had volunteered to stop for groceries after finishing the run-through of Arthur’s upcoming fight scene with Mordred. After popping the tops, Devon carried the sweating bottles through the small dining area into the den and offered one to Kit. “Make yourself at home,” he said dryly, taking a draw from his own bottle. “Mind you don’t disturb any of the porn.”
“I still don’t know why you think you need porn with Jonathan and me around,” Kit retorted, reaching back to squeeze Devon’s half-hard cock. “Look at this.” He pointed to the picture on the computer screen of a piece of modern furniture, the length of a couch but with one end higher than the other, a long, elegant curve of smooth leather. “I thought Jonathan might like one for his birthday.”
“Where do you think I find my ideas?” Devon retorted with a chuckle, dropping a kiss on Kit’s head and moving his hand back to his own tackle with an answering squeeze. He bent closer to the computer screen, peering over Kit’s shoulder at the display. The sinuous lines of the loveseat-like bench might appeal to Jonathan’s artistic sensibilities, he supposed, but it seemed an odd choice for Kit to suggest. “What makes you think Jonathan wants more furniture? He’s barely at his place often enough to use what he has.” And he’d have to find a way to get it home to the States after filming ended in a few more weeks, but Devon wasn’t going to ruin the mood of the afternoon by bringing that up.
“Ah,” Kit said, clicking a link, “but this isn’t just furniture. This is Tantric furniture.” The image on the screen changed to one of a couple intertwined, clearly using the chair as a prop for their lovemaking. He clicked to the next picture, the woman lying back across the upper portion of the couch so that her hips were at just the right height for sex. “Just think of all the interesting positions we could get into with this to help us out.”
A spark kindled in Devon’s eyes. Leaning forward, he covered Kit’s on the mouse with his own, clicking between screens that
illustrated a variety of positions: the man reclining over the chair’s curves with the woman on top of him, her back to his chest; the woman seated in the lower arc as the man sprawled over the upper one, at the perfect height for her to fellate him; the woman lying on the lower end with her legs draped over the man’s shoulders as he knelt on the floor before her, his face between her legs. “I like that one,” he said, pausing at a scene of the two partners lying with their heads at opposite ends of the chair, the curve in the center supporting the man entering the woman from behind. “Looks like it would give good support for your back.”
Kit turned his head and kissed Devon deeply, touched by his lover’s concern for his well-being. “Love you,” he said when their lips parted. “So what do you think? Shall we get it for Jonathan? If we order it now, it should be here in time for his birthday.”
Already imagining a third member joining the scenarios, Devon nodded distractedly. “Look at this one.” He pointed, his voice deepening as his mind’s eye replaced the woman with his two most definitely masculine lovers. “The one at the head end would be able to suck off a man standing right there while his lover took him from behind like that….” He adjusted the hardening shaft beneath his track pants, trying to decide which position of the imaginary threesome he’d want to find himself in most.
“I like this one best,” Kit admitted, skipping ahead a few to one with the woman lying on the lower end of the chair with the man kneeling on the floor as he entered her. “One of us where she is, Jonathan where the guy is, and the other one of us behind him so that he’s the filling in our sandwich.” He shifted on the seat. “He better get home soon or I’m going to end up jumping you without him.”
“You’d better find something else for us to look at or he’ll wonder what the hell got us so worked up before he got here,” Devon retorted. Spinning the chair, he knelt and pulled Kit into a deep kiss, letting his hands roam over the warm skin under his T-shirt. Kit’s legs wrapped around his back, pulling him closer, and Devon found it hard to remember there was ever a time that he’d only seen Kit as a rival for Jonathan’s attention. They didn’t break apart until the sound of a car door slamming outside caught their attention. With a click of the mouse, Devon changed the display on the computer screen, winking at Kit. “Told you that porn comes in handy,” he murmured before leaning in to claim his lips again.
Since Devon had stolen the words right out of his mouth, Kit simply enjoyed the kiss and waited for Jonathan to join them. He’d order the chair in the morning, when Jonathan left for early call.
“I come bearing beer—and food,” Jonathan announced loudly, dropping his bags on the kitchen counter and walking into the house. “And this is the thanks I get,” he complained, pausing in the doorway to enjoy the sight of the two most important men in his life wrapped in a torrid kiss. “Starting without me again, I see.”
“You’re welcome to join us,” Devon beckoned with a grin. “Just bring some fresh beers, will you?”
“Beer?” Kit protested, pulling Devon’s head back toward his. “What do you want with beer when you can have me… and Jonathan?”
Jonathan enjoyed watching Kit and Devon kiss a moment longer—the only thing more arousing than seeing the two of them together was knowing they wanted him to join them. However much he missed home and Josh, however long and exhausting the day’s filming, knowing he had this to come home to made it all bearable. Pushing away the intrusive thought that filming was going to be ending in a few short weeks, he turned back to grab the necks of three beers, leaving the rest of the groceries for later. “Beer to cool off so he can last longer,” Jonathan teased, pressing a cold bottle to each man’s neck. “The two of us might be too much for him otherwise.”
“Bring it on,” Devon retorted, catching Jonathan’s arm and pulling him to his knees and into a welcoming kiss every bit as ardent as the one he’d just shared with Kit.
Jonathan moaned into the kiss, the taste of beer and Kit and Devon himself setting the spark to his desire. “God, I love it when I come home and you’re already worked up,” Jonathan gasped, pulling away just long enough to speak before diving back into the kiss. And anything else his lovers had in store for him.
JONATHAN WAS practically vibrating with anticipation by the time Devon pulled the car to the curb in front of his house. It wasn’t a sensation he’d been accustomed to before becoming intimate with his two lovers, and he wondered idly if Kit was rubbing off on him, before the young man in question opened his door, grabbed him by the arm, and dragged him to his feet.
“C’mon, birthday boy, now the real celebration can begin.”
Devon grinned as he climbed out of the driver’s seat. “And don’t pretend you weren’t thinking about this during the cast party—I saw how you were squirming in your seat while everyone sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to you.”
“It was the only thing that got me through, between the bad jokes and that ridiculous hat they made me wear,” Jonathan groused, though Kit leaning over his back whispering filthy suggestions in his ear and the gleam in Devon’s eyes as he smiled at him from across the table had played their part in his eagerness to abandon the cast party for their own, more private festivities.
“Awww, poor baby,” Kit teased as they walked up the sidewalk to Jonathan’s house. “We’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Opening the door, he led Jonathan inside. “Now close your eyes while we get your present ready.”
“I thought you two were going to be my present,” Jonathan answered, tugging Kit into his arms and stretching out a hand for Devon, who was just closing the door behind them. “I’ve been looking forward to it all afternoon.”
“Oh, we are your present,” Kit promised, returning the embrace, “just with a little… shall we say, extra dressing today.”
“More interested in undressing,” Jonathan murmured, burrowing under Kit’s T-shirt to the warm skin underneath. “Devon?” he asked, lifting his head from Kit’s neck when Devon hadn’t joined them. While he’d never complain about an armful of Kit, Jonathan was greedy on his birthday—he wanted to celebrate with both his lovers. “What’s that?” he asked, locating Devon lounging against a cloth-covered lump in the corner of his living room.
“Your present,” Devon drawled, running a hand over the mound the way Jonathan had seen him caress Kit’s bare flank. “Aren’t you a little bit curious what it is?”
Glancing down at Kit, who flashed him a mischievous grin and pushed him toward Devon, Jonathan stepped forward. He couldn’t imagine what could possibly be concealed beneath the oddly shaped drape. With Devon’s amatory gaze encouraging him, he caught the corner of the cloth and pulled it away, revealing an equally oddly shaped couch or lounge of some kind. “It’s—nice,” he said, at bit at a loss, running a hand over the butter-soft saddle-tan leather. “Very… nice.”
“Don’t you even want to know what it’s for?” Kit asked, draping himself provocatively along the upper curve. He stayed horizontal for the moment rather than letting his head drop down, grinning as he watched Jonathan’s expression. “Of course, the effect would probably be better if I was naked.”
“Not that I’d ever complain about your being naked,” Jonathan agreed, eyeing the couch with a little more interest, “but that can’t really be what this is for, is it?”
“Oh, but it is,” Devon assured him. “It’s a Tantric chair—specifically designed to support an endless variety of sexual positions. There’s quite a helpful video if you run out of ideas on your own.”
“Leave it to the two of you to come up with something like this.” Jonathan tilted his head, his gaze losing focus as he imagined some of the possibilities of the chair’s sensuous curves. “Where on earth did you find this, anyway?”
“The internet, where else?” Devon chuckled. “You’ll have to thank our randy Percival for the idea, but it was actually manufactured just for you to our own exacting specifications.”
“So, do you want to try it out?” Kit purred,
reaching for the hem of his T-shirt and pulling it over his head as he leaned back, letting his body mold provocatively to the curve of the chaise. “Just look,” he added. “I’m at the perfect height for you to fuck me while I suck Devon off. Or vice versa if you prefer.”
Jonathan’s cock made its opinion of either option known, pressing insistently against the placket of his jeans, while at the same time his photographer’s eye admired the contrast of the smooth leather against Kit’s olive skin. He was just reaching to pop open the first button on his fly when a raucous pounding on the front door startled him. “You didn’t,” he growled ominously, his gaze jumping from Kit to Devon and back again.
“Bloody right we didn’t,” Devon agreed. “This was meant to be a private party.”
“Get rid of them,” Kit suggested, sitting up, though he did pull his shirt back on for the moment, in case Jonathan wasn’t successful. “I’ve had enough of Orkneys and Mordred’s knights for the day. I want my king and my Grail companion and nobody else.”
Before Jonathan could retort that Kit obviously had an inflated idea of his ability to dissuade the Orkneys in search of a party, the door opened and said Orkneys tumbled inside, followed by the rest of the Camelot principal cast. “About time we found you,” Colm complained, flopping onto the cooler he’d dragged in with Warwick’s help. “We checked Kit’s and Devon’s places, but there was nobody there.”
“Maybe because we were planning a private party?” Kit snarked, less than impressed with the invasion. “You know, just the three of us?”
“What fun would that be?” Colm demanded. “You can’t have a real party without Orkneys. Everyone knows that.”
Behind Colm, Glynn eyed the seat where Kit still perched with a speculative gaze. “Nice chair.”
Maybe it was his imagination, but Jonathan had a feeling that Glynn knew exactly what the damn chair was designed for. “Thanks. Birthday present,” he added, biting back a flare of jealousy when Glynn took a seat on the lower end of the curve.
No Limits Page 32
