This scene takes place during The New Born Year.

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This one’s for Nadine.


Hugh paused outside the door, taking a breath before going in quietly. Will was—as he’d been when Hugh left for tea—lying half-on Truman, propped up on Truman’s chest. His voice was lower, and though he didn’t stop speaking when Hugh returned, he also didn’t look over.

“I think it’s less the what and more the—the idea of it,” he said, as Truman lightly stroked his bare shoulder. “You know?”

“Mm, definitely. Still, that’s not an answer to my question, Will.”

“Uh, yeah. No. It’s not.”

Hugh, subtly shifting the glove with the ginger just slightly behind his leg, stood still, not intruding into Will’s line of sight right away.

“No. At least, I don’t think I actually want you guys to piss on me. But the way Eddie sees it, it’s like, it’s just—he said it’s like he wants the whole world from them. Mostly from Leo. Like everything that one person can do to another, that’s what he wants, at least once, because when you put it all together, then it feels like Leo makes his world for him. Which is just—which is just like—” Will settled his chin on Truman’s chest. “God. That sounds amazing. But Nick and Bernie? They do all that in a totally different way.”

“Which way do you find more intriguing?”

“Oh, well, I could never be Nick. I couldn’t really be Eddie, either, but Nick’s totally hardcore, like in ways I didn’t even know until today.” Now. Now, he looked over, and Hugh was ready. “Isn’t he?”

“I can see why you’d say so, yes.” Invitation offered. He came closer and sat down, resting a hand on Will’s leg. “Not with everyone, but with Bernie Nick is able to go deep into the world they make together.”

“He said you didn’t like the idea of him bottoming to men who could actually get inside his head.”

Hugh considered it, and his misstep of a few minutes before, when Nick had thought he’d in some way been disrespecting Bernie’s safety precautions. “Not exactly how I would have put it. The two of them have a way of doing things that isn’t precisely what I’d choose, but I can’t say it’s not working. This is, by far, the healthiest I’ve ever seen Nick, for the longest period of time. He—” Hugh paused again, feeling rather than seeing Truman’s attention. “Nick needs to feel that he can’t hide. I was always willing to let him get away with too much, but Bernie lets him get away with nothing. The freedom he feels inside that relationship corresponds directly to the restrictions Bernie puts in place within it.”

“Huh.”

“Interesting way to phrase that, love,” Truman said.

“You disagree?”

“Not at all. William?”

Will swallowed, turning back. “Yeah, Tru?”

And oh, that expression, Truman contemplating something and coming to a decision. Hugh caught his breath.

“Would you like us to put some restrictions in place for you tonight?”

“I, um, I know it wouldn’t be the same. And I know it didn’t actually work that well last time we tried it—”

Their honeymoon. Hugh still couldn’t decide if he wished they hadn’t even attempted a morning of power surrender, or if he was pleased he had a practice session to work for in order to plan from the next time Will asked.

Truman’s hand trailed down Will’s arm, then back up. “And you’d have to be very quiet, so no one could hear you. Our activities would also be limited by propriety. Though I don’t see that Nick and Bernie are letting that stop them. To say nothing of our neighbors in the attic.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it. And I could try with Moll, except that’s so different. We’ve got enough shit to deal with, with—with um—everything else right now.”

“Is that the only reason you aren’t doing it with Molly?” Hugh asked.

“I picture it with you guys,” Will mumbled. “Kind of wish it was a little more equal than that, but this—I picture it with you guys.”

“There are things I picture with you that I do not picture with Hugh. Do you doubt my dedication to my relationship with him?”

“You know I don’t.”

“Come here.”

Truman had started off as the voyeur, watching while Hugh played up Will’s physical and emotional responses to stimuli, getting off on playing the witness, asking Hugh to relive it all later for him. But somehow, over the years, Hugh had begun to slip into that role, watching the two of them develop a connection that was not dependent on his presence. Only Ian, who’d married them, had ever asked if they felt jealousy. Truman said no easily, without any hesitation, yet not so fast his answer was in doubt. Hugh, though. Hugh had thought about it longer.

It wasn’t jealousy. Instead he felt filled up, watching the two of them. He felt elated, as if Will and Truman staring into each other’s eyes was something from which he could get a contact high, and he did, all the time.

“I want to see him bring you to the edge over and over again all night,” Truman said now, speaking into Will’s ear and looking at Hugh. “I want you to struggle not to make a sound. And in the morning, when you feel like you could burst, I want you to fuck me, William. In fact, I want him to fuck both of us tonight, so it’s just a little rough in the morning.”

“Oh, shit, Truman.”

“Will you need a gag? You know how good he is.”

Truman was carefully not asking permission. This was a lovely edge to their relationship that Hugh devoured as if it was a personal gift to him. Truman could get away with not asking permission more frequently, and did so because they enjoyed it, never to make a point. (Hugh couldn’t help himself; he was always making points.)

“All night long. He’s our insomniac, and Will, he can do whatever he wants to you tonight. He can drip wax on you, or use ice, or bite you all over and leave marks for Molly to kiss better.” Will whimpered and Truman pulled him even closer. “Tonight, we make the world for you. Tell him yes. Look him right in the eye and tell him yes, Will.”

Will buried his face in Truman’s neck for a long moment. Then he slowly, so slowly, lifted his head and turned shame-filled eyes to Hugh. “Yes. Yes, sir.”

“Good boy,” Truman said. “Hugh?”

Oh, yes, sir. Indeed. “Suck Daddy’s cock. Keep your ass nice and high.”

Will whimpered again and slid down Truman’s body, shoving his pants down below his knees.

God, to spank this ass. But Hugh made do, instead, with kneading it, playing with Will’s muscular ass cheeks until he moaned around Truman.

“Good, baby boy. Move to his balls and suck them nice and thoroughly.” As Will shifted, lifting one of Truman’s legs to give himself more room, Hugh took to chewing on his ass, not quite ruthless, but definitely rough.

The noises Will made. Truman groaned.

“Slow—slow down—Will—”

“Back to Daddy’s cock now, boy, but I want you to just taste it. Just hold it nice and wet, right there in your mouth. I want Daddy to feel this next part right through your mouth.” He held up the glove, which he’d put aside, and Truman’s half-lidded eyes narrowed more.

Hugh did a number on Will’s ass, pressing a saliva-lubed finger inside, then pulled back and withdrew the ginger. On a normal night he would have never sprung something like this on him without a conversation first. But he knew Will had no ginger allergy, and the element of surprise was at least part of what he found so irresistible about TPE.

On this night, after that conversation, he dared do something without (as Will always said) ten hours of therapy first.

Will went still when he felt something slide into his ass.

Wait.

Hugh worked the ginger in and out a few times, then left it there and waited.

A few muscle twitches. Will’s ass tensed, then released, then tensed.

Truman’s eyes shot open. “What is that? He’s—salivating.”

“How delightful.” Hugh reached between Will’s legs and began to play with his balls, making him moan. Now his ass was tensing and releasing rhythmically, as if milking the ginger, or trying to understand it, trying to map it.

“Oh my,” Truman said. He thrust his hips toward Will’s mouth. “That’s incredible. He’s so open. His throat is open.”

“What a lovely response to ginger.” Hugh began working his cheeks again, pushing them together, pulling them apart. “You should be grateful, Will. There are five more where this came from, and I’m decently sure Bernie expects Nick to take all of them at once.”

Will moaned.

“Ginger,” Hugh said to Truman. “A freshly peeled ginger plug.”

“Oh.” Truman tugged up on Will’s hair until he came up. “Describe it to me, Will. How does it feel?”

“Insane. Oh fuck.” Will put his head down on Truman’s thigh and panted. “It’s growing. Intensifying. Holy shit. It’s burning, but oh fuck, it feels so fucking good.”

Hugh blinked. Not exactly as expected. He worked the ginger in and out a few more times.

“Argh—oh my god—fuck, it’s like alive in there—” And Will, as if barely aware, started to touch himself.

“Not so fast. Give me your hands.”

“Aw, Truman, come on, this is—shit.” But he surrendered his hands, which Truman held to the top of his head.

Will’s hips started pumping forward, as if seeking stimulation.

“Is this the effect ginger usually has on people?” Truman asked.

“Not that I know of, but now that we’ve seen it work on Will, we’re definitely doing it again. Go back to Truman now, Will. When he’s come in your mouth, you can flip him over and get him ready for me.”

“Aw, but—but this is—I mean, edging was fine before, but now—”

“Nothing’s changed. Get back to work.”

Will poured his considerable energies into Truman, perhaps hoping for leniency if he did a more spectacular than usual job. Truman gnawed on his fist while he came, trying not to make a sound, but the other hand stayed firmly on Will’s wrists, keeping them on his his head (and not incidentally also controlling the blowjob).

Poor Will. The second Truman released his hands, he tried to find release himself, but Hugh had him pinned in seconds.

“It’s going to be hard to prep Truman without hands, naughty boy,” he said, and laced Will’s arms behind his neck with a handy necktie. (Ties took practice, but thankfully, Truman had a bit of a tie kink. His eyes darkened, watching Hugh bind Will’s wrists. Of course, he was using one of Truman’s ties just for fun.)

“Turn over, Truman. Let our boy in. Get your face in there, baby boy,” he said, pressing Will into Truman’s ass. (Will liked rimming. Truman found it difficult to pair “rimming” with “daddy play”, which made this entirely delightful on a number of levels.) “Eat Daddy’s hole. Make it nice and wet for me.”

Both of them groaned.

“That’s right, get your tongue in there.” Hugh gave him a few more rough shoves, then stood to strip off his clothes and grab the lubricant.

And god, what a picture they made: Truman, ass raised, face in his arms; Will, elbows out, wrists tied, wearing only his cuffs as he pushed into Truman. Hugh stroked himself, watching them, almost forgetting that he had a plan. They were so fucking beautiful and he was so fucking lucky.

He played with the ginger a little, before yanking Will off Truman. Will made an incoherent sound of abject need.

“I was going to have you get me ready, too, but you had to touch when you weren’t allowed. Kneel there, nice and tall. Clench around that ginger, baby boy. Watch me fuck Daddy open.” And Will, Will had a serious kink for the two of them barebacking. Will, who was more turned on by intimacy than he was by orgasms—who would choose being sandwiched between the two of them, hardly able to breathe, over coming almost any night—loved to watch them have sex without condoms. (Hugh had asked, but no, this boy, this well-behaved, meticulously careful boy, had never had any sex other than oral without a condom. Which turned Hugh on intellectually, and also sparked an intense desire to show him. A conversation for he and Molly and Truman to have, one of these days.)

“Clench, Will. Clench hard.”

Will’s body went rigid, all the way up his legs, his torso, even his jaw. “Ugh. Oh, that’s—it’s so hot.”

“Good boy. Keep tight. Keep feeling that ginger. Now.” He ran hands up Truman’s back and Truman responded, body yearning in some subtle sense. “Watch me fuck my husband,” Hugh said, testing. “Watch me open him up, hollow him out, make him raw.” Yes, good. That’s the right note. “Keep your eyes right here on Daddy’s wet hole, boy.” One finger, two, into Truman’s hot ass. Hugh took his cock in hand and played, pressing it against Truman, then pulling back.

He glanced up to make sure Will was watching, but he shouldn’t have worried. Will was captivated, eyes glazed over, watching every move.

Hugh was extremely good at pacing his arousal. He could keep himself at low tide for a long time, and did, with these two, frequently. But right now, between the sensation of running the head of his cock up and down Truman’s slick crack, and the sight of Will’s body, at attention, rocking a little with the effort of milking the ginger plug, cock bouncing—Hugh steadied his breathing and tried to clear his focus.

“You are both amazing,” he murmured, pushing inside. “I cannot believe you’re with me.”

That was the thing, of course. He gave Truman long, deep strokes (the strokes Hugh liked best), contemplating the gift of their mutual presence. Once, a long time ago, they had been separate gifts. But now?

He sunk himself deep inside Truman and reached out to play with Will’s balls.

Now they were complementary forces in Hugh’s life, intertwined.

The orgasm took his breath away, and yes, he pounded into Truman, leaving bruises. (There was a kink Truman had never said aloud. He liked it rough occasionally, but it had taken accidentally leaving marks before Hugh realized just how rough, and in what shape. Truman liked his bruises in a different form than Will, but both of them enjoyed being marked. By each other, yes, but mostly by Hugh, and that thought spun him deeper into pleasure, rutting into his husband.)

He pulled out and ran his fingers around Truman’s hole, watching the gape close, pinching here or there, fascinated by his own ejaculate as if it was a brand new substance, doubly invested in making Truman moan against the sheets. (To say Hugh had a kink for this would be strong, but he did like it. He did enjoy the intensity of having filled his man.) He happened to glance over at Will, thinking they’d share a smile, but he saw something else on Will’s face.

Desire. Clear as day.

Hugh moved fast. Very fast. He grabbed Will’s bound wrists and pulled him in close, getting himself just far enough out of the way to make room. “Clean Daddy,” he said harshly, pushing Will’s face back into Truman’s ass. “Suck it all out, baby boy. The only thing you eat from now until tomorrow is come, right out of Daddy’s ass.”

The low, guttural sound Will made at that— Hugh took a few more breaths.

“I want to see your tongue. Get in there. Daddy should be nice and open for you, boy. Go on.” Hugh rested the hand not roughly controlling Will’s head on Truman’s neck, feeling for the wrong kind of tension. But Truman pushed into him, and Hugh ramped up the talk, judging how much they were enjoying it by Will’s noises (he hoped everyone had gone to bed, and that the storm was serving as white noise) and Truman’s increasing engagement, pushing back at Will now like he needed more.

No. No, best to leave them both on edge.

“That’s it. That’s it, Will.” Will permitted himself to be pulled up, panting, face a mess. Hugh tugged him over and kissed him deeply, which just turned Will on more. “Poor baby boy. Daddy says you can’t come tonight at all. He’s so mean, isn’t he?”

But Will, deep in his head, didn’t speak.

“That’s right,” Hugh said, pulling him closer. “That’s right. Good boy.”

Truman rose, unsteadily, and pressed in behind Will. “Thank you. Both of you. That was—invigorating.”

Will moaned, probably because Truman was not exactly soft, pressing against him.

“Baby boy’s going to have some trouble sleeping tonight without relief.”

“True.” Truman lifted Will’s head by his hair, garnering a faint protest. “You have to be strong, boy. Only little boys who can be strong all night get to fuck me in the morning.”

Will sighed, nuzzling in.

“Mm, we need to drop the roles now so I can rest. But you are a very sweet boy, William.”

“Love you. Love you both.”

And Hugh met Truman’s eyes over Will’s head as he untied the tie. When Will had his arms back, he wrapped them around Truman, allowing himself to be coaxed down into the bed.

Hugh did the usual cleaning tasks, discarding the ginger at last, grateful for the space it allowed him. Even more grateful for the moment of rediscovery, coming in from rinsing and hanging the washcloths to dry in the shower, finding his two men cuddled close. Will was asleep, or close. But Truman. Truman’s eyes were open and shrewd. Far more shrewd than they should have been after sex like that.

“You are contemplative,” he said, keeping his voice low as Hugh climbed in on Will’s other side.

“Not overly, I don’t think.”

“Mm.” Truman reached for his hand, pulled in closer, settled it on Will’s side, under his own, so that they were connected.

Truman’s ability to express in space what Hugh struggled to express in words astounded him.

“Forgive me.” He shifted closer, seeking a position in which he could relax and leave his arm where it was, which meant he was pressed in against Will. (Who sighed and settled even deeper, when they bracketed him on both sides.)

“Nothing to forgive, my love. Will you tell me?”

He couldn’t quite meet Truman’s eyes, so he left his gaze on their hands. “I’m not sure. These last few days have been strange, and wonderful. I didn’t anticipate it meaning so much to me, having all of them here. And we should have told Alison about this, Truman. I sincerely wish we had.”

“On the other hand, this allowed Will to own us in a way he found compelling.”

True. No escaping the giddy relief he’d felt telling them, the sweet bliss of watching him relax fully with no need for secrets.

“All right. Yes. Granted. And she seems perfectly fine with it.”

“More fine than she is with any number of other things. Did you realize she had feelings for Leo? Because I definitely didn’t, and Jase tells me it’s been obvious.”

Hugh raised his eyes. “She had a hard time looking at anyone else during our wedding reception. She could do worse, you know. She likes watching Nick, too, though that’s clearly more of an appreciation for his physique.”

“My poor sister. Sometimes I wonder if she’ll keep finding the same man for the rest of her life.”

“Oh, I doubt it, Truman. And I don’t mean to take credit, but I like exposing her to all this. The usual narrative might not suit Alison.”

“I always assumed it did, but you’re right. She’s intrigued by the smorgasbord of alternatives, I think.” Truman’s fingers laced through his, pressing both of them into Will. “Mr Reynolds.”

“It’s the two of you,” Hugh said, speaking just above the rain on the windows. “The two of you take my breath away. I had no idea—I had no idea this was in store for us, Truman.”

“Nor I.”

“You seem to have no problem accepting it.”

“Accepting it? No, Hugh. No. You were a surprise to me. Will was a great surprise to me. But no, I accept you both, and I accept my own feelings for both of you.”

That, of course, was the issue. Not them, but how he felt about them. “Sometimes I feel so very transparent around you.”

“You aren’t. But I know what you look like when you’re trying to hold back. He doesn’t require it, Hugh. You can give him everything.”

“I don’t think so. Not now. Not yet.” And Hugh studied the restful face of their boyfriend, sated, asleep, even though he hadn’t come. “You can be with him and not overwhelm him. I’m not so sure I can strike that balance.”

“Hugh.” Truman grasped his hand now. “Will is a bottomless well of generosity. He is capable of taking whatever you can give him, and holding you the same as he does now.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Because he’s not ours to keep?”

But that wasn’t exactly it. “I thought that was—I thought I needed that. But when I watch he and Molly, Truman, I’m not jealous. I’m not possessive. I delight in his joy, when he finds it with her. I delight in her joy, to a significantly smaller extent. More, perhaps, the way I feel about Alison. I find it satisfying that Molly is happy with her partner, and that she has found a man who can meet her needs. She deserves that.”

“Mm. Agreed.”

This time when he looked up, he expected to see something insistent, something slightly stern in his husband’s expression. He knew all of his behavior pointed toward possessiveness, and that Truman could read behavior just as well as he could.

But no, that wasn’t Truman’s I’ll let you believe that even though we both know what’s really going on here face.

“Not today,” Truman said. “Not today. But I think you will find it hard to keep this to yourself forever, Hugh. He’s a very insightful man, our boyfriend. When he figures out there’s something to know, he won’t stop until he gets a full confession.”

“I look forward to it.” He took a breath. “You don’t—you aren’t—it’s not a reflection on—” Damn words. Inadequate words. “I could have never felt this deeply without you in my life, Truman. You give me courage.”

“I feel the same, love. Will you be able to sleep?”

“No,” Hugh said. He freed his hand and slid it around Will’s waist to tease his cock. “No, I don’t think I’m quite ready yet.”

“Oh good.”

Will woke up slowly, pulling himself out from under a heavy blanket of sleep, begging before he opened his eyes. His pleas were a turn-on and when Hugh entered him (condom firmly in place), he let out a long, low groan. But Hugh didn’t need another orgasm. He propped himself so he could lie down, and pulled Will back until he was nice and snug, then played lightly with his cock as he writhed.

“Go to sleep, Willie,” he whispered in his ear.

“You bastard. Truman, c’mon, don’t—don’t—aw, fuck, you guys suck so much.”

“But only if you ask nicely,” Truman said, pinching Will’s nipples. “Goodnight, sweet boy.”

“I can’t sleep like this!”

“Then it will be a very long night for you.”

Will protested a little longer while they played with him, but eventually all three of them subsided. Truman kissed Will first, then Hugh, lingering, looking into his eyes.

“Goodnight, sweet boy,” he murmured, for Hugh’s ears alone.

Hugh, robbed of speech, closed his eyes and kissed him back.