Happy birthday, AJ Cousins!

It’s Truman’s 40th (in November 2015, technically). Hugh decides, finally, to upgrade his phone–at the urging of his husband and boyfriend.

When I tossed this idea out there months ago and asked you lot what apps everyone would suggest for him, this is what y’all came up with. Enjoy!

The first text message Hugh received on his new phone wasn’t a message at all. It was a picture.

Of Will. Specifically, of Will’s cock, somewhat in shadow, camera pointed down, framed by his shorts pulled out from his body, one hand brightly gleaming under the stark whiteness of the flash.

Another message immediately followed, this one from Molly: Did you get it? Did it load?

Since both Will and Molly were upstairs right now, he looked up. But they weren’t in the kitchen and he couldn’t see Cordelia’s room from the backyard.

“What’s up?” Nick asked, watching him.

“Nothing.” Hugh’s fingers twitched with the urge to “shut” his flip phone. He no longer had a flip phone. Instead he pressed the proper button and the screen went blank.

“Oh man, it’s like watching a Neanderthal with a match. You’re adorable, Reynolds.” Nick kissed his cheek. “We gotta finish setting up, but remind me to download an app for you. Workout tracker, lets you make graphs and shit, you’ll love it.”

“Workout tracker?”

Nick laughed again. “Truman’s gonna be home soon, get your ass moving. Eddie! Give Hugh a job.”

Eddie blushed, of course, but managed to point him in the direction of the salad.

Ten minutes later Will and Molly came down the back stairs. Hugh kept his expression neutral and pretended he hadn’t noticed.

Molly giggled. Then stopped. Then buried her face in Will’s shoulder and gave in.

“What in the hell is going on there?” Lucy asked, letting her voice carry across the yard. “Whatever it is, Will’s blushing, so it must be delicious.”

Eddie, chopping on a board next to Hugh’s, didn’t look over. But Leo did.

“Haven’t seen Molly in a while.”

“She made sure to come tonight, though.”

Molly’s more frequent absences hadn’t gone unnoticed in any corner of the family; Hugh alone refused to speculate, even to Truman. He glanced, finally, in Will and Molly’s direction, catching both of them in the act of looking at him.

He smirked. That was enough.

Molly burst into laughter and this time Will was the one burying his face. Mission accomplished.

“Hugh, you gotta get into podcasts,” Lucy said, nudging Leo. “Baby, tell him about the science one you listen to. Or that history show with the genius.”

“Technically Sarah Vowell was a guest—”

“Doesn’t matter, Hugh, you’d love this girl, sharp as a fuckin’ tack. Man, what I wouldn’t give to—”

“Mistress.”

“What?” Lucy’s laughter rose, washing over Hugh’s mind, years of comfort and warmth and Lucy provoking people.

“I really like podcasts,” Leo said mildly.

Lucy laughed again.

In Hugh’s pocket his phone began to vibrate. He reached for it, trying not to get carrot juice on his slacks. Adam. “Hello.”

“We’re here. No one’s answering the door.”

“We’re in back.” Obviously. “Come in.”

“Ha. Yeah, okay. No sign of your boy yet, which is a good damn thing since me and Beccs standing here with a bouquet of birthday balloons might be kind of a tip-off—”

Adam talked in his ear all the way through the house and was still talking when he emerged from the back door. He grinned and disconnected the call only when he was actually looking at Hugh.

“I thought Willie was fucking with me. You let them get you an iPhone.” He pretended to stagger backwards in shock.

“It seemed to make them happy.”

“I thought it was Truman’s birthday,” Rebecca said, half-shoving Adam out of the way. “Who’s taking these? I have most of the party section at JoAnn’s here because Ads has no self control when it comes to party planning.”

“You wound me!” Adam staggered again, and latched on to Will. “Plus, if one of us is a party person, it’s the wedding planner.”

“Shut up, Ads.”

Three words, not directed at him, but Will’s voice hit circuits in Hugh’s brain that went deep into his system and flipped all the right switches.

He hid the sudden hitch in his breath under the laughter and teasing happening around him and focused on carrots until Eddie tentatively touched his arm.

“I think we have enough,” he said, voice pitched below everyone else’s.

Hugh had roughly chopped most of the bag. He looked up, ready to apologize, but Eddie was already shaking his head, eyes landing somewhere near Hugh’s chin.

“I’ve been meaning to try a new vegan carrot cake recipe.” His lips twitched up. “If you’re ever looking for recipes, I recommend Pinterest. There’s an app.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” Hugh said with exaggerated gravity.

The twitch turned into a smile.

“You did not fucking get My Little Pony plates,” Will said.

Adam exploded.

“He thought he was being hilarious,” Rebecca muttered. “Eddie, anything I can help with?”

“Do you want to start the grill?”

“Definitely.”

Hugh went upstairs for a zip-sealing bag to store the, ah, excess carrot for Eddie. He hoped, distantly, that Will would follow him. He even rehearsed what he’d say. (Something along the lines of “I didn’t get the full view from your picture. Perhaps you could show me in person…”) But no one followed him and he could only linger so long before it became strange.

He pulled out the new, too-shiny, too-flat, too-bright phone and checked the time. Truman would be home soon, to his surprise party. It would undoubtedly not be much of a surprise, because a group this big could hardly be expected to keep a secret, and Truman would likely notice everyone’s cars out front. But he’d appreciate it regardless, even with My Little Pony plates.

The phone went off again. Jason. Tru said you finally got yourself a real phone. Next up, you should definitely get yourself one of these. The message ended with a link. A link? Hugh tapped it experimentally and sure enough, it opened in the phone’s browser.

The phone had a browser. Hugh bemusedly watched as it loaded the link, which was a video. Then he tapped the little play button. (Was it a button? Icon? Symbol?)

What unfolded before his eyes amazed him. And made him want espresso.

He didn’t notice footsteps on the stairs until Nick was already in the kitchen.

“Hey, what’re you—”

“Nicky, look at this.”

“God, you’re so easily impressed by—wait. What is that?”

“An espresso machine you can control from your phone.” Hugh tapped the video, which paused it, then dragged the little dot back to the beginning.

“Oh my god,” Nick murmured. “That’s magic.”

Smugly satisfied that he wasn’t the only one who thought so, Hugh nodded. “Maybe this smartphone thing isn’t so useless after all. If it can make my espresso, it might actually be worth having.”

“Play it again. And make it bigger.”

“It can get bigger?”

Nick sighed.

* * *

Truman’s arrival home was anticlimactic. They’d planned to funnel him into the yard immediately, but Adam, whose job that was, had allowed himself to be distracted by an argument over exactly how much to fill the piñata, and was still fighting with Molly and Lucy when Truman got home. Will clearly couldn’t have been expected to hear the garage door over all that, and Hugh, who likely would have anyway, was upstairs.

In the bedroom.

Staring at a huge vase full of red and white roses, which was sitting on Truman’s dresser.

He probably shouldn’t have looked at the card—he obviously shouldn’t have looked at the card—but before he’d thought about it, he was.

Happy 40th, stud. Love you. Wllm.

Hugh’s heart stuttered, and he was still holding the card when Truman walked in.

“You got me flowers?”

“No.” He turned. “No, I’m sorry, it never occurred to me.”

“Ah.” Truman’s smile lit his face. “Then those must be from Will.”

“William, I think you’ll find.” The smile widened as Truman read the card. Will was, of course, a much better boyfriend than Hugh was a husband. A fact that all three of them knew, so it would have been silly to mention it. “We may have planned a surprise party. You were supposed to be diverted to the yard.”

“I managed to evade detection. Stealthy, that’s me.” Truman kissed him. “Hello.”

“Happy birthday. Again.”

“Thank you. Let me change.”

Hugh ran both of his hands down Truman’s chest, smoothing his shirt. “Let me get you changed.”

“Mm. Yes, sir.”

He meticulously undressed Truman down to his undershirt and briefs, then redressed him in a comfortable long-sleeved cotton shirt and his favorite around-the-house jeans. He knelt, for a long moment, at Truman’s feet, and looked up.

“I don’t believe in forever.”

“I do. Take me to my party, Mr Reynolds.” Truman pulled him to his feet. “Should I go back to the garage so we can pretend I followed the plan?”

“Not at all. I never turn down an opportunity to tease Adam, and it was his job to catch you.”

“Sounds good.” Another kiss. “Thank you, ahead of time.”

“I think you’ll find it was a group effort.”

Truman greeted his uncoordinated shouts of “Happy birthday!” and “Oh shit, he’s home!” and “Dammit, Adam!” with good cheer, and suffered to be led through a tour of his party by Adam, with assistance from Will.

“Interesting choice of piñata,” Hugh said aside to Rebecca.

“We decided it was symbolic of Truman smashing his age.”

A birthday cake with what had to be dozens of candles, yes, that made sense.

“It’ll be a challenge, though. The piñatas with arms and legs and horns and hair are always easier to destroy.”

“I’ve never actually seen a piñata destroyed.” He could tell he’d said something wrong when she turned to look at him (and away from the amusing spectacle of Bernie holding the piñata over his head while Nick and Lucy attempted to secure it to an old flag holder Hugh had never seen a flag in).

“I thought piñatas were one of those things all California kids did at birthday parties.”

Hugh raised an eyebrow. “I think you’re dramatically overestimating the number of birthday parties I attended as a child.”

“Hm.” She kept looking at him. “I meant to tell you, there’s an app I use to hide and protect files. It’s cloud-based, and lets me wipe certain directories from the website, just in case I can’t get to my phone for some reason.”

“Oh.” Intriguing. “What would I use it for?”

“Pictures. Videos. Things you don’t want other people seeing.” Rebecca gestured. “It’s always nice to be able to tell the person you’re taking pictures of that no one will see the perfect outline of your hand on his ass because you’ve password protected the file.”

Hugh opened his mouth to speak, then realized he had nothing, whatsoever, to say.

“Food for thought.”

“I’ll take it into consideration.”

Hugh reflected, turning his attention back to the hilarious misadventure of the piñata and the flag holder, that an entire world of phone-based activities existed beyond merely calling and texting, and that he’d mostly dismissed them out of hand without, perhaps, investigating them to the fullest extent. That picture of Will’s—hand for instance. It hadn’t quite done what Will had intended, but he wouldn’t want it to be found by a random person, either. (The likelihood of him ever misplacing his phone was low, but it was big, and obtrusive.)

“What should I be downloading? Or is it installing?” He pulled out his phone and navigated to the app area, the way Truman had shown him.

“Let me find it for you,” Rebecca said.

She was much faster at all this than he was. She even demonstrated how to use the program—demurely taking a picture of a flower coming up in a crack of the poured-concrete patio as an example file.

“Thank you.”

“Sure. You can get Will or Truman to show you how to save a picture sent by someone else.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Really.”

Rebecca grinned. “Theoretically. If you’d received a picture you wanted to hide.”

“Good to know.”

With a shout of triumph, the piñata contingent stepped away from their task.

“How many dumbasses does it take to hang a piñata?” Adam called.

Nick bolted toward him and though Adam tried to get away, Nick was both faster and stronger, and ended up capturing him halfway up the hill.

“Apologize!” he shouted, lifting Adam off his feet.

“If you’re gonna hit on me, Nick—”

Nick wasn’t. But he did tackle him more aggressively than it appeared Adam had prepared for. The two of them rolled around on the ground a bit and Rebecca shook her head.

“You’d think he would learn, but he never does.” She raised her voice. “The grill’s hot! Who wants what?”

Mention of food abruptly broke up the scuffle. Lucy tried to egg them back into a wrestling match (“Nothing like two fit men humping each other in the dirt to get my juices going!”), but no dice.

“I’m so glad you guys thought to provide live entertainment,” he heard Truman say to Bernie.

“In this group I think it’s assured.”

The back door opened to reveal Alison, still in her office clothes.

“Sorry I’m late! We had a thing and I was supposed to stay for it. Happy birthday, Tru!”

The currents and energies shifted again. Catching Will’s eye was purely accidental this time, but once caught, they held.

Will swallowed, visibly. It would be hours before Hugh could reach for him without censoring his desires (or demands). Thank goodness he enjoyed delayed gratification.

He smiled, loading all the innuendo he could into his expression. Will gulped. Again.

“Reynolds! Where the hell did you put the sausages?”

More laughter, more jokes. Hugh found the sausages, surrendered them to the team on the grill, and found a place to sit. And, of course, to watch.

* * *

“Grindr.”

The word, which was curious enough, came from behind him.

“No, Ads,” Will said.

They’d spread out on blankets in the recently-cleared old rose garden, and he didn’t miss that this was Will’s (and Lucy’s and Nick’s) way of incorporating Cordelia into the birthday party.

“What?”

“You don’t want Grindr, Hugh. Trust me.” Will shot a filthy look at his brother. “Plus, you don’t need it. You have me on speed dial.”

Hugh blinked. “I have speed dial?”

“Ha, give me your phone, Hugh, come on.” Adam held out his hand, and Hugh, with some trepidation, allowed him to have the phone.

“Oh my god, Adam, don’t you dare—”

“What am I missing?” Truman asked, sitting down beside Hugh.

“I’m not entirely sure. Did you know I have speed dial?”

He leaned in for a kiss. “You had speed dial on your old phone, too. Are you telling me you never set it?”

“I had speed dial on my old phone?”

Will groaned. “Oh my god. Like—oh my god.”

“How tall are you, Hugh? You’re into like all dudes, right?”

“Ads!”

“Maybe old Hugh doesn’t want to be stuck with you all the time!” Adam danced out of the way of Will’s swipe, Hugh’s incredibly expensive (to say nothing of shiny) piece of technology insecurely gripped in his hands, which he hadn’t washed. (And really, couldn’t they design them not to be so fingerprint-prone? His flip phone never got covered in fingerprints.)

“Oh, bring that over here!” Nick called. “Let’s set up Hugh’s profile by committee. Luce, you want in on this, right?”

“You know I do.”

“Me too,” Molly added.

Hugh shook his head. “I know it can’t be a good thing that this particular group is apparently excited. But I still don’t understand what they’re talking about.”

“An app you use to hook up with men,” Bernie explained. “It has location services as well. Handy if you’re going out and have a goal in mind.”

“It certainly has its uses,” Truman agreed.

Will spun around like a cartoon character and Hugh amused himself by picturing animated dust settling around him. “Wait. You use Grindr?”

“Not use, Will. Have used. In the past.”

While Hugh using this Grindr thing seemed to horrify Will, Truman using it apparently enticed him.

“Oh my god, tell me everything. Did you hook up? Was it cool? Was it gross? And when? It hasn’t been around that long!”

“I was an early adopter.”

Bernie snorted.

“I was an early adopter, and Hugh and I had just met. I mostly downloaded it as a way to tell myself we weren’t that serious.”

Hugh couldn’t help smiling at a cascade of memories. “So that’s what you were really doing on your nights off. This Grindr thing.”

“No! Well, not really. I chatted with people. I never met up with any, because we were—well, I was committed, somewhat exclusively.” Truman’s smile answered his. “In secret, obviously.”

“And you said you were watching sports.”

“I did watch sports.”

“And sex-talk dudes on Grindr. Oh man. Anyway, you aren’t using fucking Grindr, Hugh. So whatever. I’ll just delete it later. You know what you should download, though? Connex. You can tell it to send you a thing every time Red and Bad post a video.”

“Why would I want it to tell me that?”

“Because then you can see every time they post a video.”

“I think what my husband means to say is—William, do you watch Red and Bad without us?”

“Um…” The blush was answer enough.

“You’ll have to let me know their user name on Connex,” Bernie said. “I only got a chance to meet Red for a moment, but he made an impression.”

“He, uh, definitely made an impression on Hugh.” Will ducked into Truman’s chest, smothering giggles. “Sorry!”

“Really?” Bernie surveyed him. “I don’t suppose you video taped that?”

“God, I wish,” Molly mumbled. “I totally would have filmed it.”

“An oversight. And you, Bernie? Do you post videos to Connex?”

“Don’t think I haven’t tried!” Nick called. “But Bern likes to keep his voyeurism nice and private. Hey, Bern, you should tell Hugh about your creepy family spy app. He’d probably like it since he’s a control freak, too.”

Since Nick was looking right at Bernie when he said it, and since no one could miss the promise in Bernie’s expression, Hugh assumed the provocation was intentional.

Bernie, with apparent effort, turned away from Nick. “You could know exactly where Will and Truman are at all times, and how long they’d been there, and the minute they leave. It would also let you program in their work schedules, and add to their calendars.”

“I could add to their calendars?”

“If they have calendars. Yes.”

“How interesting.”

“The word you’re going for is creepy,” Nick called.

Leo, peering over Adam’s shoulder, added, “Creepy might be a theme, judging by this profile they’re making for you.”

“Goddammit, Ads—” Will got up to, presumably, regulate Hugh’s “profile”, whatever that meant. Alison slid into his spot.

“So, uh, are you still looking for fun apps?”

“I’ve only had the phone for about three hours.”

She shrugged. “Not everyone wants a lot of different apps on their phone.”

“I didn’t realize I had a choice.”

“You definitely don’t,” Adam said. “Hey, you’re down for hairy—”

Hugh ignored the resulting thump to focus on Alison. “What else do you think I’d like?”

“Well, have you heard of Goodreads? It’s pretty straightforward. Like, you scan in the book you’re reading, and then when you’re done you give it a rating. I don’t read as much as you do, but I like being able to look back and see all the different books I’ve read.”

“I never remember to add books in,” Truman said.

Lucy nodded. “Oh yeah. I have that thing on my phone, but using it’s something else.”

“I like the idea, though.” Hugh considered it. Using a phone to track a book seemed weird, but then again, he did most of his reading on his little electronic thing anyway. “Thank you, Alison. That sounds interesting.”

“Ally just won the app contest,” Will mumbled.

Leo, with his own phone out, said, “Ally, who are you on Goodreads? I use it all the time.”

“Oh, just Alison Jennings.”

“I’ll add you. I don’t really have any friends, I just mostly keep track of my TBR.”

“Mine’s like a hundred books long.”

“Mine too.”

“I’m pretty sure mine’s at least a thousand,” Molly said. “It’s so much pressure.”

Hugh shook his head. “What’s a TBR?”

“To be read,” Bernie said. “I’m BernardReadsBooks, if you’re adding people, Leo.”

“And Bern has a ‘books I narrated’ shelf, in case you’re looking.”

“Damn all of you,” Lucy said, pulling out her own phone.

Bernie looked up. “Let me guess: Mistress Lucy.”

“Bet your ass, baby.”

Hugh leaned slightly toward Truman. “What’s happening right now?”

“They’re all becoming friends on Goodreads.”

“But—being friends in real life isn’t good enough?”

“Goodreads is still real life,” Leo said. “It’s an extension of real life. I think I got everyone. And Eddie’s is private, but he’ll confirm you if you add him.”

Eddie nodded. “Mostly mine are cookbooks.”

“Ohhh, added.” Alison grinned at him. “I totally want to learn how to cook. Are they super complicated?”

“Not all of them. I’ll recommend some to you, if you want.”

“Thanks, Eddie.”

“Uh, Hugh, you just got a text message. Should I—”

“It might be private!” Will snapped.

“Who’s gonna send Hugh a private message when you and Truman are sitting right here?”

“You can open it, Adam. I’m sure it’s some kind of carrier message.”

Will and Adam leaned over the small screen.

“Oh, ha, it’s Andrew.”

Adam laughed. “And he sent you an app. Ha.”

“Wait, the restaurant has an app? Look at how cool this is! We could order while we’re waiting for our table. Or when we make a reservation.”

“We don’t make a reservation.”

“Well, we have a standing reservation. I wonder if we could still order— I’m totally installing this.”

“We almost always get the same dishes,” Hugh said.

“It’s still cool!”

“It has no perceivable value. And I like ordering from human beings.”

“He really doesn’t get it,” Adam said.

“He really doesn’t.”

Hugh looked at Truman. “I really don’t.”

“I know, love. When are we hitting the piñata?”

The piñata, thankfully, was more interesting than Hugh’s phone. He spent a good minute and a half huffing hot air onto the glossy finish and attempting to polish it with his shirt after it was returned to him.

“You need a case, Reynolds,” Nick advised.

“And a matte screen protector,” Leo added.

Truman tucked an arm in his. “We’ll look over the weekend.”

“Okay,” Hugh agreed, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what exactly all that meant. The phone was already big; adding a case would make it uncomfortable to have in his pocket, wouldn’t it?

“Who’s up first?” Adam called, swinging a bat.

“Let Hugh go first,” Rebecca said. “He’s never hit a piñata before.”

“No shit? Damn. Then you get like three freebies, Hugh.”

“If we give Hugh three freebies, the rest of us might not go at all.” Nick waved a hand. “Plus, the birthday boy should go first.”

The bat was passed, accordingly, to Truman.

Breaking open the piñata was a lot harder than it looked. They were in the middle of the third round when Eddie managed to knock a hole in one side. Even after that the attack continued until candy was scattering with each hit.

“Finish her off, Tru,” Will said after his turn.

“I don’t have to.”

Adam patted him on the shoulder. “Oh yeah. Do it. Give it everything you’ve got.”

There was something oddly charming about watching his husband destroy a cardboard and tissue paper birthday cake while it hemorrhaged candy. Everyone cheered.

* * *

When it was fully dark, and they’d eaten a fair dent in the actual cake Eddie had made, Lucy held her hand out. Hugh hardly needed to ask what for.

“What’re you installing, Lucy?” Molly asked, shifting over so she could watch.

“Games. Addicting games.”

“I’m not going to play games on my phone.”

“You say that now, pet. But we’ll see.”

Adam and Leo also crowded in. A low-voiced chorus of “Good one” and “What about—” and “Oh, do that one” started up.

“I’m really not going to play games on my phone,” Hugh said, to no one in particular. “I don’t know why I would.”

“No one knows why they play games on their phone,” Nick intoned. “And yet everybody does.”

“I never have before and I’m not sure why I’d start.”

“We’ll see. Bern, you want to head out?”

“That sounds good.”

And so the exodus began. Nick and Bernie, then Alison with a cryptic mention of a “phone date” she wouldn’t elaborate on, but which required she be at home.

“Oh my god, they should just fucking get married already, it’s gross,” Adam said. “Beccs, you good?”

“I’m good. Happy birthday, Truman.”

“Thank you.”

Adam and Rebecca went home, with Molly tagging along.

“Have fun, boys,” she said, kissing Truman’s cheek, then Will’s, then Hugh’s. As she was walking out the door, she called, “Don’t hesitate to send pictures!”

Will flushed. “She was joking. I mean, mostly.”

“Not even a little,” Lucy said, finally handing Hugh back his phone. “My work here is done. Many happy fuckin’ returns, Truman.”

“Thanks, Lucy.”

A final round of goodbyes and the door shut for good.

“We should clean,” Hugh said, turning to find both of his men looking at him. “What?”

“You realize I didn’t ask you to get a smartphone so Lucy could install games on it.”

He blinked. “I—suppose not.”

“Definitely not,” Will agreed. “We can clean tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Come upstairs.”

He glanced at Truman, who was smiling. “Okay. I should bring my phone?”

“Oh yeah. Yeah, it’s kind of necessary for our gift to Tru.”

“We have a gift to Truman that involves my phone?”

“Yeah.” Will held out a hand, and Hugh took it. “Come on. And I need your phone again.”

Watching Will tap on his phone wasn’t exactly what Hugh had expected to be doing in the bedroom, but it only seemed to take a few minutes before Will was handing him his phone back and saying, “Leave it out. I mean, don’t put it back in your pocket. We’ll need it later.”

“All right.”

Then Will kissed him, running hands under his shirt, and his phone was the last thing on his mind.

He tracked the moment Truman came upstairs—Will stripped naked, Hugh with only his shorts and socks left—but aside from registering his husband’s presence, Hugh didn’t let his attention drift from his current objective, which was kissing Will soundly while holding his hands pinned to the bed.

Time passed, as time was wont to do. He lost his shorts. Will flipped over. He lost himself to a spanking that was far more sensual than Will usually allowed. It was the kind of spanking Will liked to give, not to receive, with a great many pauses for teasing fingers and sharp bites. He almost growled when Will turned his head and craned his neck, until he realized Will was searching for Truman.

And Truman, behind and to the side of Hugh, was holding up a phone.

“This is fucking hot,” Will said. “Is it working?”

“The app Red recommended is perfect, I think. Though we won’t know really until we replay it.”

“Replay?” Hugh echoed. To off-set his confusion, he corkscrewed two fingers deep into Will’s ass.

“Ohhh fuck yeah. More.”

“I’m recording the two of you.” Truman shifted the phone. “Objections?”

“Of course not. But we could have done that with either of your phones at any time.”

“Yeah, but it’s more fun if all three of us can watch. Will found a private file-sharing app that allows us to share and protect the videos.”

Hugh withdrew his fingers and went back for a few harder smacks, which Will arched into. “Videos, plural. You two plan on making this a habit?”

“If we enjoy ourselves.”

“In that case—” Harder, faster, fewer pauses, until Will was panting and bucking. “Would you like a close-up of me opening Will’s hole?”

“Please.” And Hugh didn’t think the rasp in his voice was imaginary.

He shifted a little. “Is it too dark?”

“Not too dark. It could be brighter, though.”

Two bedside lamps. Hugh considered their options. “Will, I want you on your knees with your ass in the air, but I’ll need you to be—here.”

Will allowed him to direct without comment or complaint, and he certainly didn’t seem bothered when Truman reached an exploratory hand out to trace his spine.

“Mmmm.”

Truman smiled at Hugh, still holding the phone pointed at Will. “You melted him.”

“I did my best. Should we keep going?” Hugh pulled the shade off his lamp and switched it on. “Brighter?”

This time Truman showed him the screen, zeroing in on Will’s pink ass cheeks, then his hole. When it wasn’t enough, Hugh peeled him open, and both of them were probably breathing hard enough now for the phone mic to pick up.

“God. This is hotter than I imagined,” Truman murmured.

Hugh kneaded Will’s ass, mashing his cheeks and spreading them wide for the benefit of the camera. He had to admit, this was significantly more intense than he would have credited it being.

“How strange. I can’t stop looking at the phone, even though the real thing is right behind it.”

Truman kissed his cheek. “Show me our boy, Hugh.”

Even when he wasn’t looking at the video in progress, he was aware of it. He took far longer stretching Will than was necessary, partly in the spirit of torturing him, partly in the spirit of giving Truman more footage. Certainly Will didn’t need one finger, then two, then three, then two from each hand, slowly revealing the soft pink skin inside his pucker, spreading so he was exposed as he groaned.

“Please,” he begged, voice ragged. “Please—”

“What would you like me to do now, Truman?” he asked, fingers-deep in Will.

“Someday I want you to fist him like this, so I can enjoy it whenever I want. But not tonight. Fuck Will, love. I think I want it hard.”

“Do you want him to come?”

“Hm,” Truman said, grinning. “I’ll think about it.”

Will whimpered.

“Excellent.” He rearranged Will again, so the light would hit them in profile, and the was the first time Truman had gone around to get Will’s face. The lighting would not, of course, be perfect, but Truman seemed intent on capturing Will’s expression as Hugh fucked him.

Condom on, lube applied, and Hugh knelt in position, watching Truman’s face, watching the small lens of the camera.

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Keep your head up, Will.”

Will whimpered again but picked up his head. Which seemed like the perfect time to push inside.

It was erotic to imagine the camera capturing every nuance cross Will’s features. He pushed in slowly, savoring it, and when he was in to the root he thrust just a little bit deeper and reached for Will’s hair.

“Oh god,” Will murmured. “Oh god, you guys. This is stupid-hot.”

“Suck,” Truman commanded, shoving two fingers into Will’s mouth.

Hugh held his body still in deference to how sexy Will undoubtedly looked, sucking Truman’s fingers while Hugh fucked him. That they could watch it later—that it would be available whenever they wanted to watch, and experience, again—tweaked his imagination.

They could make any video, re-enact the ones Will liked so much online, invent their own variations on kink and sex, and they could keep them. On their phones, on a server somewhere, probably on their computers. Were there programs to password protect files on computers? There must be.

While he was thinking, he’d started rocking his body against Will’s, keeping his hair gripped tightly enough so it undoubtedly smarted.

“Ohhh that’s so fucking good, Hugh. Harder!”

So of course, Hugh slowed down. Glacially.

Truman switched angles so he could get—after adjusting for his shadow and the phone’s ability to zoom, Hugh assumed—a shot of Hugh’s cock plunging ever so slowly into Will’s ass.

“Do you think—can you—” Truman reached out and peeled down the ass cheek closest to him. “And keep your arm back. Yeah. That’s—wow.”

Hugh couldn’t see it, but he could picture it: his body a force deliberately drilling into Will while Truman held him open. He shifted a little to see if the next time he withdrew (deliberately, with the same ice-thawing-on-a-cold-day pace), he might be able to play with the lip of Will’s hole for the benefit of the video.

This could become addicting. He hadn’t thought he needed any additional motivation to play with Will’s body, but it turned out every little bit…helped.

“I thought I told you hard, Hugh,” Truman said, at last.

“Forgive me.” He let go of Will’s hair and leaned his weight on Will’s shoulders, thrusting from his hips.

“My god You two are…”

Hugh leaned down low and sucked Will’s earlobe into his mouth, biting lightly. “We have inspired Truman to lose his words.”

“Hot,” Will rasped, craning back. “Please fuck me, Hugh.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Fucking Will was always a pleasure. Fucking Will for Truman heightened it. But fucking Will at Truman’s request, on video, was an entirely new level of delight and power and raw arousal.

Hugh didn’t draw himself out. He fucked hard and fast and let his orgasm pound into Will, over Will, through Will, until he couldn’t hold himself up and collapsed.

“Please please please please please please—”

Hugh pressed in one last time, edging up until he could pull Will’s face back for a brutal kiss. “Do you want to come, little boy?”

“Please—please, Truman—”

“Show me. Hugh, get Will off.”

Show me. Show the camera. Show the three of us, who will watch this in the future, who will get off again while we get off now in an endless loop of voyeuristic pleasure.

He rolled them to the side and straightened up, planting his feet on the floor and keeping Will awkwardly pulled over his lap, facing Truman. Will twitched hard when Hugh grabbed his cock.

“Look at Truman.”

Hugh didn’t know if Truman was focusing on Will’s face, or his cock, or the entire disheveled picture of him, but in his mental director’s chair he panned in for a close-up of Will’s blanket-reddened cheek and forehead before pulling back to take in the length of him, the utter lack of composure as he lay in Hugh’s arms, waiting for whatever came next.

What came next was far too much, far too fast, and when Will thrashed, Hugh used his legs to clamp Will’s, ending up with both of them on their sides. Will couldn’t escape him, of course. He didn’t want to.

Hugh held him, legs locked, one arm around Will’s neck, and jerked him mercilessly until he came, crying out, body desperately trying to chase Hugh’s fist. Truman moved in closer, clearly capturing come and cock and Will’s still-trembling body.

When he’d filmed his fill, he tossed the phone to the bed.

“Hugh.”

“Hell yes.” Hugh kissed Will’s neck and gently released him before sliding to his knees. “On one condition.”

“What?” Truman growled.

“I want this video on my phone. Of us, right now.”

“I don’t want to be on video.”

“You don’t have to watch it, then. And Rebecca showed me how to hide it and password protect it, so no one else will watch it either. But I want this, Truman. I want to watch us like this, on your birthday. Forever.”

“You don’t believe in forever.”

Hugh shrugged, pushing into Truman’s palm. “I believe in tomorrow. I believe in—” Not us. “I believe the sight of me blowing you will turn me on. Forever, yes.”

The hand on his head turned into a caress. “Thank you for my birthday gift.”

“It was hardly—all I did was go to the phone store—”

“I’m recording now, so say something sweet,” Will interjected.

Hugh turned his face to kiss Truman’s palm. “Happy birthday, Truman.”

“Thank you. Now blow me.”

Hugh grinned and kept his eyes on his husband as he followed orders.

Truman liked things fast, so he took them slowly, sweetly, letting his tongue linger and explore and taste and curl around Truman’s familiar (beloved) cock, ignoring the hands in his hair, urging him faster. He kept his own hands behind his back, getting off on the visual, hoping that Will was catching enough of them to make it clear that’s where his hands were, and that’s where they’d stay.

When he’d played for some time with Truman’s cock, he slowly pulled off, letting his tongue drag, letting his lips linger in an elongated kiss before pulling away completely. This time he used his nose, eyelashes, ears, to feel his way down Truman’s body, nuzzling between his legs, tickling him and torturing him in turns. Truman again tried to direct his movements, and Hugh again resisted, taking his time, doing as he pleased.

This was, after all, his movie. He’d pace it however he liked.

After using every plane of his tongue to push Truman to the edge, he returned his attentions to the now leaking cock, taking it deep, tensing his cheeks and tongue and throat.

This was it.

Now he gave Truman what he wanted, sucking in the head of his cock, blowing out his cheeks, changing up the sensation too fast, then digging in and using his entire body to fuck himself on Truman’s cock.

Truman came, without speaking, going still except for his fingers, pinpricks of pain in Hugh’s scalp, making it so much sweeter to take everything he could, keeping his own hands gripped tightly behind his back.

“Oh Jesus. I could go again. That was fucking amazing. Hugh, back off so I can get one more shot of Tru’s dick.”

He obeyed, keeping his eyes riveted to Truman’s as he did so.

“Ohhhh fuck me,” Will mumbled. “That is so fucking insanely hot.”

Truman lowered to his knees and took Hugh in a fiery, intense kiss, sucking in his tongue, owning his lips.

“You dicks. I already stopped filming. Christ, next time I just want to tape you guys making out for the nights I’m not here.”

Will’s voice, Truman’s mouth; Hugh closed his eyes trying to keep this moment locked inside his memories.

“Uh, so, we can watch the video now, right? Because I’m pretty sure if we do that I can get off. Is that cool?”

Truman’s lips were forming the smile even before they’d completely detached. “What do you think? Are we cool with that?”

“I really think we are.”

“Ha ha ha, you two. Anyway, get up here, I forgot to do something earlier.”

They stood, only a little gingerly.

“Love you,” Will said, kissing Hugh. He turned to Truman and slid between them, settling into Hugh’s hands when they rested at his sides. “And you. I’ve been waiting all day for this.” He leaned in close and lowered his voice, making it sultry and seductive. “Happy birthday…Mr Jennings.”

“Thank you, Marilyn.” Truman’s hands rounded Will’s neck and they kissed, and if Hugh nudged his boyfriend just slightly into his husband, no one complained.

A few minutes later all three of them were in bed, and Will, in the middle, was holding Truman’s phone with the video on playback.

“This is so fucking hot. We’re dumb for not making Hugh get a phone years ago.”

“And you’re saying this will be on my phone as well?”

Will sighed. “I told you, I already set it up. All three of our phones will sync a certain folder.”

“How fascinating,” Hugh said, in his driest tone.

“Shut up, I’m masturbating to us on porn right now. God, that’s weird. And hot.”

It was both weird and hot. Hugh looked past Will at Truman, who smiled.

“Happy birthday to me.”

“Indeed.”

And many more, my love.