Trevor filled another cup with coffee, mixed in half a teaspoon of honey, and went to get some almond milk to splash into it. The almond milk was a recent addition, but G.G.’s doctor seemed to think G.G. needed something to counter the acid from the coffee and be kinder to his stomach.
G.G. accepted the mug and took a sip without seeming to taste it, sweeping his gaze over the counter over and over again as if worried he’d forgotten something. Trevor nudged the cup back up toward his mouth and then pressed a kiss to his cheek once G.G. seemed to realize it was coffee in front of him and had some more.
Trevor had anticipated nerves from G.G. today and tomorrow, but clearly, he should have remembered the additional pressure G.G. put on himself when cooking or baking for others. Trevor was going to have to redo his plans for tonight, but luckily, he’d already had that revelation after this morning’s incident and he had plenty of time for revision.
Well, not plenty of time. He was assisting G.G. in the kitchen now, and then going over to his grandma’s to help her prep the dishes that would get made tomorrow morning to bring to Thanksgiving dinner at his parents’ house. ‘Help,’ in this instance, meaning to do most of the work under her supervision. His grandma had insisted the year before had been training only. This year, Trevor had to do it himself.
There was some anxiety making Trevor’s stomach churn, but didn’t think he was nearly as tightly wound as G.G. right now at the thought of something turning out slightly less than perfect.
Trevor allowed G.G. a few moments of peace with his sweetened coffee, then gave him another kiss and took the mug away.
The counter was already partially wrecked. That was from the no-yeast cinnamon rolls he and G.G. had made for breakfast and all-day snacking. The island behind them was full of apples and rolls of parchment paper and backup bags of flour—in case G.G. wasn’t satisfied with his baking results and wanted to remake something.
Trevor had told him he was allowed one do-over if he truly felt it was necessary but he wasn’t allowed to stress himself out over this. He’d met Trevor’s family before. As a friend, but he’d met them. Several times now, in fact. Though Trevor suspected his siblings had figured out G.G. was more than that, and his parents probably would as well now that Trevor was bringing him to all the family events.
To G.G., this meant needing to offer them his best, more than his best. As if G.G.’s best wasn’t a hundred times better than most people’s. G.G. had assured Trevor this was normal for him and what he did for his own family’s Thanksgiving.
Trevor thought it was overkill to prepare two desserts for people who would only make G.G. watch football and then send him home with his barely touched, or untouched, desserts because they were “Too rich” or “We’re all stuffed with pie.” Which apparently G.G.’s family regularly did. But this year, this year and every year from now on if Trevor had his way, G.G. wouldn’t be with his relatives. He was going to be with Trevor’s family. And if Trevor’s family decided to be dicks, then G.G. would be here with him and their little family.
He hadn’t said as much out loud to G.G. yet, only to Sky, but he would. It was implied, anyway, in Trevor getting up early to help G.G. make cinnamon rolls and double-check ingredients.
“Sorry.” G.G. focused on him, distracted but earnest. “This is a disaster. If the kitchen were bigger….”
The kitchen renovation was on track to begin next year once the winter rain was over. It had been briefly sidelined by the need to turn one of the spare bedrooms into an office and Trevor’s insistence that G.G. needed to consider his yard as a part of the house and not only a storage space for sheds.
But the kitchen being larger wouldn’t have done anything for anyone’s anxiety, which was going to have to be taken care of. Trevor should have anticipated that. Upcoming changes plus a high-pressure event with Trevor’s extended family? It was no wonder there’d been an incident today.
He glanced over the marks on the walls for the upcoming renovation and the changes they were already trying; G.G. did not have a dungeon in his house because he’d never dreamed that he might get to live this way if he wanted to. He still did not have a dungeon, but they’d made some adjustments and would go from there.
Trevor’s gaze fell on the thick eye-bolts screwed into the wall by the door leading outside, which would stay there until the remodel and then perhaps go somewhere more permanent if they worked out.
They seemed to be doing their job so far, as did the large, flat dog bed made of foam and a removable, washable soft cover that had been placed beneath the bolts. It had been purchased more for the size and the easily cleaned cover than for being a dog bed, but admittedly, that part had worked out too, judging from Sky’s somewhat glassy-eyed glare.
Sky had been to Thanksgiving with Trevor’s family last year, and a bunch of other holidays and events as well, so he should not have been upset or anxious about it. He had no reason to act out, or so Trevor would have thought.
The thing about his geniuses, Trevor reflected in a proud yet tired way, was how much their minds were going all the time. They’d find things to be anxious about that even a greyhound couldn’t imagine.
Not that Trevor was comparing them to dogs… anymore.
He gave Sky a quick study to make sure he was okay. The cushion should be protecting his knees and providing some warmth, although the oven had been on for a while, heating the kitchen enough that Sky was probably fine despite only wearing the shorts he’d worn to bed the night before.
The morning before, really, since he’d gotten into bed well after midnight.
Despite explicit instructions not to, and ignoring how he could have if he’d spoken to Trevor about it beforehand. There were lots of reasons Sky might want to stay up that were perfectly valid; work deadlines, gaming nights that went long, even an anime marathon was allowed if Sky was off work the next day and he mentioned it to Trevor so Trevor could change the schedule Sky had agreed to.
If Sky had asked, Trevor would have given him permission; catching up with friends around a holiday was a legitimate reason to stay up late even when already tired from work. But Sky hadn’t done that and then had thought he’d sneak into bed without an issue.
It was both in character and extremely strange for Sky to expect Trevor not to respond to it. Much like G.G. fluttering around his kitchen since dawn, checking and rechecking things and barely nibbling the breakfast he’d been at pains to make.
Maybe, once the baking was done, Trevor should tie G.G. to the wall too.
He considered the length of chain going from the lower bolt to the padded restraints keeping Sky’s hands bound behind his back and then the chain that ran from the higher bolt to the front of Sky’s collar. The chains weren’t heavy; they were more for show than anything else. Sky wasn’t gagged. He’d been ordered to be quiet and had surprisingly obeyed.
Partly because he knew he’d fucked up, and partly because the effect of a collar on Sky really was something. Accessories mattered.
Trevor looked into Sky’s expectant expression then turned back to G.G.
“Sky didn’t have any breakfast,” G.G. remarked, worrying about something other than the raspberry-almond Linzer shortbread bars nearly ready to go into the oven or the dough for the apple strudel that was resting on the nook.
G.G. was not inclined to worry over Sky’s punishments, though he would fuss over Sky himself, turning into an especially contented, pink-faced, smiling poodle whenever he got to do nice things for Sky and Trevor together. G.G.’s direct, vocal expressions of love were rare, though not unheard of, and tended to fluster him. Unless he happened to be tipsy at the time, which had occurred once, during last year’s Christmas Eve dinner with just the three of them and Trevor’s grandmother enjoying festive cordials Sky had been sent by someone at his job.
More often, G.G.’s affection showed in gifts left on desks, or G.G. making breakfast and ensuring Sky ate it if Trevor wasn’t there, or in absent nuzzles while G.G. watched TV or read on the couch.
That he was concerned about Sky now might be useful; it meant Trevor had something to use to distract G.G. from his nerves.
“How long until the shortbread thing goes in the oven?” Trevor gently dusted nonexistent flour from G.G.’s cheeks and nose simply to enjoy how G.G. froze in surprise and then submitted to the care, his flushed skin very warm.
“Um.” G.G. had to take a moment to get his thoughts back on the food. Trevor wasn’t sorry. “A few minutes, then the rest of the dough comes out of the fridge and goes on top.”
“Marvelous. You’re incredible, you know.” Trevor kissed G.G.’s nose too, then turned away to have some of his own coffee while G.G. stared after him, stars in his pretty eyes.
Sky’s cup was at the far edge of the counter. Trevor hadn’t wanted Sky to suffer a caffeine-withdrawal headache, so he’d let Sky have some coffee before ordering him onto the cushion. That had been… oh, a while ago now. If Sky had to pee, and he would eventually, especially if he’d had water or tea last night, he knew what he needed to do. Trevor liked watching him squirm either way, and worst-case scenario, Trevor would have to—get to—bathe Sky. Which was a special treat for both of them. Sky would be in agonies of embarrassment but allow it, and curl against Trevor afterward to hide his face and be cuddled.
Trevor could bathe G.G. too, but for G.G. that would be more like pampering instead of torture… which G.G. might need after all this. Yes. Trevor nodded. G.G. would finish this, Trevor would go over to his grandmother’s, and then tonight, he was going to have to arrange something to ensure G.G. was focused on things other than Trevor’s parents and aunts and uncles. After that, Trevor might order him into the bath just for fun.
The face masks and bath bombs had been an unexpected joy to watch G.G. experience. He appeared absolutely confounded by undereye masks and various “self-care” treatments Trevor picked up for him, including scented candles, yet he came to Trevor on his own now, his hands full of options for Trevor to choose from for him to use.
Spa night for G.G., then, Trevor decided. After whatever else, and whatever ended up happening now, which largely depended on Sky.
G.G. was worried about Sky, and G.G. had enough things upsetting him at the moment.
“Set the timer for the dough in the fridge,” Trevor gently ordered, “and then why don’t you give Sky something to eat? Would you like some apple, Sky baby?” He asked it sweetly, but was already reaching for a knife and an apple.
He pointedly offered a larger piece to G.G. when G.G. came back to him, since G.G. hadn’t had much either. Then, after making sure G.G. ate it, he left several slices out for him to take to Sky. Trevor would have lovingly shoved each slice into Sky’s stubborn mouth but G.G. merely offered them, one at a time, and Sky leaned forward as much as he could to accept them.
Trevor enjoyed more of his coffee as he watched, and hid his smile by taking an apple slice for himself.
Sky crunched the apple messily and had no way to wipe the juice from his chin. That was Trevor’s fault too, and Trevor didn’t especially care, though when Sky had been a good boy and eaten his treat, Trevor did step over to brush his thumb across Sky’s sticky bottom lip. He half-expected a snap or a snarl, maybe to lose that finger, but Sky stared up, eyes wide over the top of his glasses. Trevor gently tapped the glasses back into place, then dropped his hand to flick the tag hanging from Sky’s collar to make it swing before meeting that stare.
“I think,” Trevor mused aloud while Smart Boy Sky went back and forth, tinkling like a bell, “that Sky is still hungry.” Sky opened his mouth. Trevor wiped a trace of juice from Sky’s stubbled jaw. “He should have more.”
“Apples?” G.G. wondered, faintly breathless.
“Maybe…” Trevor trailed off as he reached back toward the counter. He tore off a chunk of cinnamon roll and pushed it between Sky’s lips before Sky could protest. Sky chewed and swallowed, watching Trevor warily the whole time. Trevor gave him more before he’d finished the first piece, then nodded. “More apple now, if you would, please, G.G.”
G.G. would, of course, but offering G.G. courtesy while Sky got none was for Sky’s benefit.
“And a drink,” Trevor said casually when Sky was licking apple from his lips. “Water, for now.”
Sky turned from gazing adoringly up at G.G. in order to suspiciously study Trevor. It might have occurred to him that he was going to need to use a bathroom sooner rather than later or risk pissing himself, and that the water was a trap. It probably had already. Trevor wouldn’t have gotten away with the coffee trick if Sky had been more awake and aware when he’d first sleepily stumbled into the kitchen.
But of course, he hadn’t been and that was his own fault.
Nonetheless, Sky glanced up when G.G. filled his coffee cup with water and then put it to his mouth. He took a few sips then leaned back without taking more.
Crafty, or at least attempting to be. Trevor helped himself to another apple slice before settling against the counter with his coffee. “If you want something, Sky, you know what you need to do.”
“I’m sorry,” Sky offered immediately, looking from G.G. to Trevor as if G.G. could, or would, help him here.
“Hmm. I don’t believe you.” Easy victories did not exist with Sky. “You’re sorry now, but where was that remorse last night? Anyway,” Trevor put his coffee cup down firmly, the sound carrying through the kitchen, “you didn’t say it right.”
“I’m sorry, Sir,” Sky tried, the last word rising as if that had been a question.
Trevor looked away from Sky, to G.G., who immediately raised his head.
“How long for your shortbread dough?” There was a timer on the stove, which G.G. glanced to, then hurried over to turn off before it could start beeping. “What do you need me to help with next?” Trevor asked as though Sky wasn’t in the kitchen with them.
“It gets crumbled over the top, then goes in the oven. The other dough is still resting.” Some of G.G.’s earlier anxiety returned as he frowned and looked to the nook. “We should slice the apples soon.”
“You’re so on top of things,” Trevor praised him. “Take care of the shortbread dough and set the timer again once that’s in the oven. The apples can wait.”
Trevor turned his back to Sky to watch G.G. obsess over whether his crumbled cold dough was properly crumbled or not, his gaze dipping a few times to G.G.’s sweatpants and then coming back up to the plain t-shirt and short apron G.G. wore when working hard in the kitchen.
The apron was plain, serviceable navy blue. Trevor idly considered Christmas as he studied it, then, after G.G. had set the timer again, he moved to get G.G. within reach and tug the apron strings until G.G. faced him.
He had G.G.’s back to the island a second after that, his hands at G.G.’s wrists to keep them behind him while Trevor kissed him with lazy hunger. A small whine came from Sky’s direction. Trevor kept his focus on G.G., the apron first, and then, once that was gone, the shirt too. G.G. shivered and kissed back, leaving his hands where Trevor placed them without complaint.
Trevor stopped kissing him to study his hairy chest and stomach in the morning light, the glint of his piercings, the red flush making its way down his body. He’d bet Sky was looking too.
No collar on G.G. this morning, which was a shame. Trevor should have put it on him after restraining Sky, but he’d had to run out the door and had been gone for a while, so he’d forgotten. He could send G.G. to go get it, but G.G. blinked his eyes open when the kisses ended and his bright gaze said he’d do whatever Trevor wanted anyway.
Trevor moved to the side to kiss G.G.’s neck where the collar should have been, making sure Sky could see what he was doing and hear his quiet, “Oh, look at you, poodle,” as he toyed with one pert nipple. “So pretty for me. Such a good boy.”
With G.G. already compliant, Trevor was free to keep nuzzling his throat and tweaking that reddened nipple. “Isn’t he pretty, Sky?” he wondered after a while, glancing down to enjoy the outline of G.G.’s cock pushing against his sweatpants. G.G.’s shivers seemed endless. He was biting his lip, possibly watching Sky watch them, which was at least half of the reason he was close to shaking. But he would be good, so good, and stay like this until told otherwise.
“Yes.” Sky was quick to answer, strain in his voice. “Yes, Sir. He’s pretty, Sir.”
Trevor raised his eyebrows despite himself, though he didn’t think Sky could see.
G.G. must have felt some of Trevor’s surprise. He murmured, “He really is sorry,” then gasped in dismay when Trevor pulled back.
Ignoring Sky for the moment, Trevor stepped directly in front of G.G. He held G.G.’s suddenly wide-open gaze.
G.G. didn’t interfere, usually either aroused or amused at whatever Sky had often deliberately gotten himself into. Trevor let seconds tick by without letting G.G. look away. He should crack the proverbial and literal whip, but the whole thing was so unheard of that he made himself stay where he was.
He reached out, giving G.G.’s nipple a vicious twist. G.G. made a pained, pleased noise, then clamped his mouth shut. Under the arousal, his eyes were full of guilt. Soft poodle always was the weakest link. He was more experienced, but he always forgot Trevor had cut his teeth on Sky.
“You two are up to something.” Trevor wasn’t guessing. He put his fingers under G.G.’s chin. “Tell me.”
Sky was once again strangely silent.
G.G. swallowed. “We thought you might need us.”
“Of course I need you,” Trevor answered immediately. Sky’s chains clinked. Trevor kept his attention on a blushing G.G. “You know that. And if you don’t, I’ll fucking remind you soon enough. So, what is….” Trevor glanced involuntarily to Sky, his meddling, brilliant wizard who knew exactly what Trevor’s family did to Trevor, or could do to him if Trevor wasn’t careful.
This was… support. This was G.G. and Sky reminding Trevor that Trevor was theirs. Not his family’s, not if they hurt Trevor.
Trevor let that warm him, although it might not really sink all the way in until tomorrow, when he had no doubt that these two would be the most careful, attentive subs to ever parade themselves in front of his mostly oblivious family members.
His grandma was going to make faces, though she wouldn’t interfere. “Not my marriage,” she would say, then pause, then correct herself, “Not my relationship.”
Her expression would say she’d meant what she’d said the first time. Trevor couldn’t explain this to her—not ever in his life—but if he could have, he thought this would have made her proud. He couldn’t offer them rings, not both of them, but he thought for the hundredth time of offering something permanent. Neither of them wore jewelry. He imagined them wearing his art on their skin, and what they would say if he formally asked them to, and then realized he was going to. Tonight or tomorrow; he wouldn’t be able to wait any longer. He wasn’t sure why he’d waited this long.
The designs were in their notebooks. He imagined tracing his lines onto their skin, and G.G.’s shivers, and Sky’s hungry little whines.
Tonight, once everything was prepped for tomorrow, and Sky was settled in bed with tea and whatever art movie he chose, and G.G. was starry-eyed and sleepy and smelling of lavender, and the pets were quiet, and the lights were low, Trevor would ask.
He allowed himself a breathless moment, then tamped down his nerves to focus on the first of his darlings.
He straightened, then glanced to the oven timer before looking at G.G. “I don’t see your collar on you. Get it and put it on before you come back here.”
He turned toward Sky while G.G. was scuttling from the room and probably continuing to scuttle up the stairs to their bedroom.
Sky’s eyes were unbelievably wide.
“How are your shoulders?” Trevor asked first, clearly catching Sky off guard. “Your knees? All right?”
“I… I’m fine, Sir.” Sky was almost perfectly respectful. His expression was a mix of wary surprise and confused lust. That only got worse when Trevor went on.
“Need to use the bathroom yet?” He smiled.
Sky’s breathing hitched. His gaze accused Trevor of tricking him. His mouth, probably still sticky with juice and sugar, said, “I’m sorry, Sir.”
Trevor lifted his chin. “Sorry for what?”
Sky’s swallow was audible. “I’m sorry for sneaking in.”
“Trying to sneak in,” Trevor corrected, although now he knew for sure that Sky had intended to be caught. “What else?”
Sky ducked his head. “Not following the schedule you made for me, which I like. You care for me very well. Very well. I…. You care for me so much, Sir.”
That was over the top for Sky, but Trevor didn’t call him on it because, dramatic or not, Sky meant it. “What else?”
Sky looked back up, his glasses at the tip of his nose again. Trevor absently made a note to have the frames adjusted soon. “Trevor….”
“What else?” Deliberate misbehavior or not, Sky couldn’t be allowed to get away with things. He said so himself all the time.
Sky frowned, at himself, not at Trevor, trying to recollect something he apparently had actually forgotten. “Was I supposed to get up with you to do something this morning so you two could do this?” he guessed, then, comically, twitched in place before adding, “Sir.”
“I walked Ellie,” Trevor informed him. “You promised to, then slept through her frantic whining.” Sky winced. Trevor had no sympathy. “Should I walk you?”
Sky shook his head so vigorously a small portion of excess chain hit the wall.
Trevor looked to the door when G.G. slipped in, out of breath and red in the face. He’d grabbed the thick leather collar, as if he anticipated also being chained to the wall.
Trevor concealed his pleased smile so he could get back to torturing Sky.
“Are you sure, Sky? You don’t want to go for walkies in the backyard?”
Sky shook his head again. “Please. I’m sorry, Trevor. Sir. Please.”
He was beautiful.
“Please?” Trevor echoed anyway. He considered the timer and G.G. waiting uncertainly by the island. He looked back at Sky. “Are you still hungry, Sky baby?”
The shudder that went through Sky at the return of his softer nickname made Trevor burn from head to toe.
It might have been that, or the threat of walkies, but Sky watched Trevor intently over his glasses and answered hopefully, “Are you going to feed me, Sir?”
“I don’t know if you’ve earned that,” Trevor told him, tipping his head to the side without looking away from him. “Come here, G.G.”
In sweatpants, socks, and a collar, G.G. was a vision of domesticity and smut. Trevor tugged him forward by the collar’s D-ring to give him the kiss he deserved, sloppy and slow, with a bite to his bottom lip that made him groan.
“Sky isn’t sure that he’s hungry,” Trevor said against G.G.’s mouth. Sky might have protested. Trevor ignored his indignant noises, giving G.G. a harder kiss before pulling back. “Let’s find out if he is. Get to your knees, Gigi.”
Sky was definitely making some kind of noises, objections or pleas. Trevor watched G.G. sink down, trained enough by now to know Trevor would want him on the cushion as well. He had to squish in next to Sky because Sky wasn’t budging. Both of their gazes were fixed on Trevor.
Trevor had never been more grateful Sky had led him to this, even if he wasn’t going to tell Sky that now. They were his, and they’d wanted to remind him so it would be on his mind all today, which it would be, along with what he was going to do them for it.
He had the whole day to think it over.
Well, most of it.
G.G.’s mouth opened easily for him, for Trevor’s fingers first, and then, with Sky breathing harshly and straining to be closer, his cock. G.G.’s hands were free but he rested them on Trevor’s thighs and never raised them. He used his tongue until Trevor was hard, then sucked Trevor’s cock slowly, almost leisurely, as if he wanted to enjoy it, or maybe as if Sky’s close interest was adding to his pleasure, so he wanted to take his time.
Trevor took a fistful of his hair but didn’t urge him to go faster. He watched G.G.’s eyes fall closed and Sky’s stay open. He twisted around to glance at the timer, since G.G. had probably forgotten all about it.
“Trevor,” Sky managed despite the teeth in his lip. He looked up as he inched forward, or tried to, until Trevor said, “Sky,” sharply to keep him from putting more pressure on his neck. They’d adjust the chain better next time and use the harness instead of just the collar. He should have known Sky would test the limits.
Sky shifted in place, bumping against G.G. and hissing a little before settling. “I’m hungry, Sir,” he told Trevor earnestly, nodding a few times for good measure.
G.G. stopped the second Trevor cupped his cheek, although he didn’t pull back until Trevor said his name. His gaze was slightly unfocused, but he did his best to look up.
“That was very good.” It was so easy to pet G.G., so easy to make Sky furious and longing too, to make them both happy. “But Sky says he’s hungry and I think I’d like proof of that.” G.G.’s faint frown meant he didn’t understand, but he got to his feet when Trevor told him to, leaning on Trevor to do it.
Sky didn’t look happy, either. “I thought…”
He was still thinking too much, was what he was doing. Trevor turned G.G. around so that he was in front of Sky and pressed his body against G.G.’s back. He ran his hands over G.G.’s chest. “Sky is hungry,” Trevor spoke into G.G.’s ear. “Feed him.”
The greedy, eager noise Sky made the moment before G.G. fed his cock into his mouth had Trevor’s hips twitching forward. G.G. shuddered delightfully, probably at the twinned sensations of getting his dick sucked and Trevor’s cock pressing against him, then tipped his head up, groaning so loud he’d wake up any sleeping pets in the house.
Trevor continued to roll his hips, reveling in the sensation though he wouldn’t let himself come for a while. He kissed G.G.’s throat, and raised one hand to toy with G.G.’s other nipple, and listened to Sky noisily sucking G.G. off as best as he could without being able to move much.
G.G. didn’t help him, either, beyond inching closer to the edge of the cushion. Sky was practically growling in frustration, trying to satisfy himself and G.G. with only the head of G.G.’s cock within reach.
“Excellent, poodle,” Trevor murmured between kisses. “That’s exactly it. Make our tricky little Sky work for it.”
G.G. wasn’t as forceful as Trevor would have been. When he finally started pushing his hips forward, it was after a soft warning for Sky and then a guilty look back at Trevor. Trevor flicked one of his piercings, then reached down to wrap his fist around the base of G.G.’s cock and stroke him so Sky’s lips brushed his hand.
G.G. reached back to clutch Trevor one-handed, the other hand sliding into Sky’s hair. He combed Sky’s hair back restlessly without pulling. Sky was whining again despite the cock in his mouth.
Trevor said, “That’s enough,” and G.G. stuttered to a stop. Sky blinked dizzily, lips parted, his tongue just touching the shiny head of G.G.’s cock.
Sky’s glasses were in real danger of falling. His cheeks were dark. He should have looked furious, but he was too turned on to be anything but confused that they’d stopped. His shorts were visibly wet.
“You’re going to make a mess on that bed, aren’t you, smart boy?” Trevor prodded, smug about it. One way or another, that cover would be going in the wash today.
Sky exhaled, sending a tremor through G.G. when his breath hit G.G.’s cock. He lifted his head to focus on Trevor. “I’m sorry, Sir. I’m sorry, G.G. I should have asked. I should have been up. I’m sorry, Ellie,” he added, although Ellie wasn’t in the room. “Please. Please, Trevor, please.”
His eyes tracked Trevor’s hand on G.G.’s chest. He panted when Trevor moved his other hand down to G.G.’s waiting cock, which Sky had done all the work getting wet for him. “Please, what, gorgeous?” Trevor prompted, stroking until both of them were whimpering.
“Please keep caring for us.”
Sky’s voice was so husky that for a moment, Trevor thought G.G. had said it. It was a line memorialized in a framed and matted print in G.G.’s office, a line the two of them were strangely fond of.
Trevor took a moment, then gave G.G.’s shoulder a kiss. He said to both of them, in the style of one of their favorite panels of one of their favorites of his stories, “You’re mine. Must I prove it to you again?” He pressed another kiss into G.G.’s shoulder. “Do I have to leave you there until you believe me?” That was not a line from his stories; Sky’s humiliations were just between the three of them for now. “Do you want to go to dinner tomorrow reminded of what a helpless creature you can be? Knowing that you begged and begged and still, you lost control and I had to clean you?”
Sky froze with his tongue out to lick spit from his lip. “Trevor.” He couldn’t seem to catch his breath. “Trevor, Sir, please.”
“Please yes, or please no?” Trevor wondered, amazed at how calm he sounded when the reality of it—both of them giving him this before tomorrow, for him, for his protection—made him want to somehow bury himself inside both of them at once.
“I…” Sky’s big brain seemed to be glitching. He didn’t want to embarrass himself, not like that, but he was already wriggling, because he also did want it, like he wanted Trevor to clean him.
“Maybe we should see how much you can take before you burst, baby?” Trevor suggested, kindly but not. “Maybe we should make you, see what happens if I finally let you come, and then I’ll decide what you get tonight.”
“Tonight?” G.G. lowered his head, probably giving Trevor a careful glance.
“I was going to leave pretty marks for you to wear underneath your nice clothes for dinner tomorrow,” Trevor revealed, pausing to soothe some of G.G.’s trembling. “But Sky does like to change plans. That’s what you get for listening to him, Gigi baby. You’ve earned a whole new punishment.”
G.G.’s cock twitched in Trevor’s hand.
Trevor gave it a squeeze, happy to encourage them to reach for new heights. “This goes back in Sky’s mouth now, and keep it there. I don’t care if you come, Sky’s mouth stays full. Unless he pulls back to say no or answer me, he’s got your cock or your fingers in his mouth.” G.G. was gentle enough with Sky that the instruction would work. Although from how Sky tried to lean forward again to get back to cocksucking, Trevor didn’t think Sky would have any issues there. Not yet anyway.
Trevor released G.G. and got to his knees to the sound of Sky’s muffled moans and wet swallows and the tinkling of his swaying collar tag. He couldn’t fit directly behind Sky, but he got close enough to pull Sky back against him, leaving G.G. to push forward in order to keep his cock in Sky’s mouth. It put a bit of slack in the chain, which Trevor was fine with. Sky was going to start squirming in earnest soon.
He pulled Sky’s shorts down and used both hands to tease him from the front and the back, leaving Sky to jerk against him and cry out as much as he could with his mouth stuffed.
G.G.’s fingers were again in Sky’s hair, careful but insistent. His eyes met Trevor’s.
“Good boy,” Trevor told him easily, because he was. “Sky now, and then you later. You get hours to wonder, and worry, and prepare yourself.” He was breathing hard. They all were, Sky close to shaking apart already.
Trevor stopped his hands except to pet over Sky’s hips and legs, as if that would do anything for the building ache Trevor had created and was now ignoring. He swept not-soothing touches over Sky’s sweaty, damp skin everywhere but where Sky wanted him to touch and pushed down when Sky tried to move his hips. Sky had to wait. He had to come so hard he’d embarrass himself and leave everything sopping wet. He had to be so shaken from that that he’d piss himself. He had to be helpless and mortified, and gaze at Trevor from the bathtub with the same stars in his eyes that G.G. had. He had to be dazed with it all day to drive G.G.’s anticipation even higher.
The desperate sounds he was already making around G.G.’s cock must have felt incredible because G.G.’s fingers tightened in his hair.
“Keep his head just like that, Gigi baby.” Trevor stroked G.G. with his voice. “And think about tonight.”
Another jolt went through Sky. Trevor kissed the side of his neck though his eyes were locked with G.G.’s.
“You are, both of you, mine.” Every word his dragon said was going to fall out of his mouth and Trevor didn’t care. He was going to be among his family tomorrow and nothing they said would matter because he had this. “And I love you.”
G.G. raised his head, collar on display, and whispered, “I wanted it to be perfect for you, Sir.”
They were so fucking beautiful. G.G. was practically radiant. Trevor was going to hurt him so much. He was going to leave him red and crying and so blissfully happy.
“Thank you, baby,” Trevor told him, told them, instead of any of that, and slipped his hand back between Sky’s thighs to bring Sky close to the edge again.
Sky’s muffled wails made G.G. groan.
Trevor savored every moment.
Also set in Rosemont:
Jericho Candelario’s Gay Debut
Jerry Candelario, known as Potts to almost everyone, has spent his entire adult life focused on raising his siblings and his niece. But the home he fought hard to make feels empty since everyone has grown up and moved out, and his precious baby niece is now a teen with a life of her own. With fewer people at the dinner table every night, Jerry suddenly has all the time in the world to think about what he wants. For years, Jerry has kept to himself, never going to college, never dating or doing anything with his evenings except getting lost in a book. But although he pushed aside his longing for community and romance, he never stopped imagining the freedom he might have in a distant someday. Then kind, clever, and out Lincoln Lee opened a bakery in Jerry’s small town. Jerry told himself he was lucky when they became friends. He was too busy to try for a relationship, and someone like Lincoln would never want someone like him anyway. But now that Jerry’s nights are free, all he wants to do is spend them with Lincoln. Jerry knows nothing about gay culture, or dating, or being in love. With Lincoln, he wants to try, but is he making a fool of himself or is his someday finally here?
Contemporary m/m and m/m/m
Play It Again, Charlie
Hottie Scotty and Mr. Porter
For Better or Worse
Dancing Lessons
Izzy and the Right Answer
Fantasy m/m and m/m/m
A Suitable Consort (For the King and His Husband)
A Suitable Bodyguard
About R. Cooper
R. Cooper lives in a pink palace by the—no. R. Cooper longs to live the life of a fictional 1980s romance novelist (but queer), but, alas, her life is actually mostly spent daydreaming and trying to write, which is at least a little Joan Wilder in spirit, including the crying over manuscripts. R. thought about gender for a while and settled on she/her/they in lieu of anything better, but don’t call her a woman because it feels oogie. She likes Moonstruck too maybe much, hates fascists, does her best not to be a jerk, hides from most humans, and lives with her cat in her semi-haunted house somewhere between the Northern California Redwoods and wine country.