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“You want Jean to fuck you?” Jeremy asks slowly, doing a poor job of hiding his excitement. “I thought you were a pretty strict top.”
Kevin shrugs. Dark brows furrowed, scowl icy, his sour expression isn’t enough to cancel out the sweetness of his blush. Jean tilts his head to the side and stares at the Queen in an attempt to decipher his change in opinion.
“Might as well try to see if I like it,” Kevin says.
“Jean? Comments, questions, concerns?”
The only aggressive fantasies Jean has ever had have been with Kevin underneath him. Clawing at the floor, noises knocked out of him, legs trembling as he takes it. For years, Jean has wanted to pull Kevin apart thread by thread only to delicately wrap him back together again. He wants to make an utter mess of Kevin just to clean him up later, good as new. He wants Kevin to cry.
“Tell me when and I will deliver.” Jean slides his gaze up and down Kevin’s body; gray sweatpants that hang loosely off his hips, black shirt that struggles to hold his biceps in, the reading glasses hooked onto his collar, their rims the same shade as his wet hair.
Kevin stands over Jeremy’s bed with crossed arms and avoids looking at the blond sitting atop it. Jean is leaning against their bedroom wall a safe distance away.
“I’m ready now,” Kevin whispers.
The partners both blink at him.
“Now?” Jeremy huffs, amused. “Jesus, how long have you been wanting him to fuck you for?”
It is meant to be a teasing question, but the way Kevin tenses gives him away.
Despite them officially being in a relationship for around a month, Kevin is still a secretive bastard. He refuses to disclose his emotions regarding the other two: how long has he felt this way, what does he like in bed, what makes him uncomfortable? Kevin doesn’t say. Whenever Jean complains, Jeremy teasingly reminds him how guarded he was about his past at first.
Jean hopes to pry some information out of him soon. Particularly how long Kevin has been looking at Jean like he’s an oil portrait Kevin has a grudge against; frustrated awe.
“I’m already prepped. It’s convenient,” Kevin defends.
Jeremy smiles, slow and hungry.
“Expecting something?” Jean taunts. Kevin glares at the floor, so Jean stalks closer. “What do you want?”
“I told you what I—“
“No, you didn’t. You only said you wanted me to fuck you. You said nothing else,” he accuses.
For every step Jean takes towards Kevin, the Queen takes one back. Eventually his knees hit the mattress. He would have stayed upright but Jeremy slides in behind him, grabbing his hips to pull him down. Kevin’s ass hits the bed, eyes going wide as Jean bullies between his thighs, effectively sandwiching Kevin between the partners.
Jeremy hooks his chin over Kevin’s shoulder, knees bracketing his hips with a loose hug around his waist. “We need details. Positions, protection…pet names?”
“I, uh—” Kevin clutches the bedding with white knuckles and silver scars.
Pressed together, Jean takes a moment to admire the contrast Jeremy and Kevin make. Bleach blond and pitch dark hair. If the sun hits Kevin right, it looks the same shade of brown that black cats turn; either way, both of them appear warmer than Jean does, even if Kevin is paler. Kevin is also much more red than Jeremy—he is far more sensitive regarding affection.
After running his thumbs over the Queen’s cheekbones, Jean sets the cold backs of his hands on blazing flesh. “You are aware of what I need to feel safe with this, so you are going to tell me. Otherwise, I will leave you to take care of yourself.”
“You want help with this, don’t you, Kevin?” Jeremy asks sweetly. His hand moves from Kevin’s stomach down, groping the obvious bulge in his sweats. Kevin’s thighs jolt.
“Do not lie to me. You have thought this through. What, you expect me to believe it was coincidence you stretched yourself open in our shower, came out asking me to fuck you, and hadn’t fantasized about how that would play out?”
“I wonder how much he has fantasized about it,” Jeremy pipes in. “I bet you have a picture perfect scenario in mind, huh?”
Kevin’s gaze drifts to the floor. He’s telling on himself.
A rush of satisfaction courses through Jean’s veins. Despite how little he cares to admit to it, Jean does need validation from his lovers. Jeremy is safe; he offers affection and compliments, proves his loyalty, unravels Jean atom by atom with ease.
It was more simple in the Nest. Back then, Jean knew what Kevin was thinking from a simple glance or passing touch. Claps on the back, silent nods, hidden French or the rare embrace when they were alone. But they aren’t in the Nest anymore. They are free to speak what they want, touch how they please.
Jean needs more. He craves Kevin’s approval in some primal part of his brain. After getting a taste of love from Jeremy, he wants the same love from Kevin, no matter how impossible it likely is.
“Kevin,” he purrs, leaning down to nuzzle their noses together. The Queen shivers as goosebumps erupt over his body. “It is only us in this room. You know how much Jeremy and I want you, you have seen how we act during sex. There is nothing you can ask for that I will not provide.”
“As long as we’re all comfortable and safe, nothing leaves this room,” Jeremy adds in a low whisper.
The sigh leaving Kevin’s throat has an almost inaudible whine attached. Something vulnerable must curl around his spine, because he sits up straighter to reach Jean’s lips.
Kissing Kevin is always a shock to the system.
If Jean could compare it to anything, he’d say the tension is like hairs rising just before a lightning strike. The kiss itself is a storm. No matter what he feels before, a blush manages to force itself onto Jean’s face hard enough his cheeks ache. His fingers itch to grab Kevin’s hair and tug, to roam up his too-tight shirts, to trace the scars from beatings and court injuries alike. If the purest form of Jean’s elation could be packaged and used, it would feel the same as kissing Kevin.
Kevin’s lips are chapped from his nervous habit of chewing them, so Jean bites the lower one for him. Humming into it, Kevin reaches out to grab the fabric of Jean’s shirt for support. The Queen downright moans when Jeremy kneads a palm over his cock and plays with his hair.
It’s a Herculean task to pull away.
“Positions, protection,” Jean prompts, “and…pet names, if you want to repeal your ban on them.”
With this close a view of Kevin’s face, Jean notices his blown out pupils. The misty green color of his eyes is only a thin ring around pitch black.
“Hands and knees, this time. Jeremy can be wherever he wants to be. Protection…I don’t want you to use a condom.”
“Bareback and doggy style,” Jeremy nods sagely, causing the other two to flush with embarrassment. “Do you want a safeword?”
Kevin’s brows furrow. “Why would I need one?”
Jeremy shoots a look at Jean. It asks for permission to explain, to detail a concerning topic. Jean nods him forth.
“Some people like putting up a fight. Sometimes saying ‘no’ and having it ignored is a turn-on. That’s all up to you, but we need to be very clear on what’s positive and negative in those scenarios,” the blond explains.
So shy it’s almost cringe-inducing, Kevin peeks up at Jean. His eyelashes have always been unfairly long for a man.
“I know I’ll try to run,” Kevin admits. “I don’t think my body will let me lay there and take it. I…fuck. I’ll need help staying put and accepting it.”
If it was anyone else, Jean would flat out refuse to continue. If it was Jeremy, then he’d never agree to ignoring discomfort during sex…but…Jean has a capacity for violence involving Kevin that he has for no one else. His empathy regarding the other man is a full sliding spectrum; either he gets overwhelmed with sorrow thinking of Kevin having to sleep alone, or he doesn’t bat an eye at the Queen in downright panic.
Jeremy knows about it, Kevin doesn’t.
Jean looks to his partner for guidance.
“Safeword, then. We can do the traffic light system or find something else,” Jeremy decides. “I’ll stay up by your head and pay attention. That way, if you say something Jean can’t hear or have an expression he doesn’t see, I’ll catch it and pause for you.”
I love you, Jean thinks but doesn’t say.
“If I say to wait, then we can pause. I think my tone is what will matter the most,” Kevin says.
“Pick one word. One word where we drop everything, end it without question, take care of you in the aftermath.” Jean cups Kevin’s face in his hands.
“Master. If I say ‘Master’ then it’s over.”
Jean tenses. He places a kiss on Kevin’s forehead to calm himself down, slightly shaken from the word—but that may be the intention to begin with.
“Of course,” he murmurs. “What may we call you? You have never wanted us to use endearments before. What now?”
Shrugging, Kevin subconsciously drifts into their touch. Relaxing back into Jeremy’s chest, cheek nuzzled into Jean’s palm. “I’m not sure. I don’t know what you would say. You can try, but I don’t think it’ll affect me that much.”
Jeremy drags his knuckles along Kevin’s stomach, fingers circling his navel. “All set? Then let’s begin.”
———
Kevin doesn’t even have the decency to use a bed.
He’s spread out on his elbows and knees, a blanket under him to protect from rug burn. Jeremy sits at Kevin’s head with crossed legs, idly playing with his hair. Jean is attempting to keep his cock a respectable distance away from Kevin’s ass.
The stretched hole in front of him is shiny with lube. Jean slicked himself up more than necessary, just to be safe.
Jean isn’t particularly small.
“You are sure you want me to do this?” He asks. “You could try to take Jeremy first. It would be easier.”
“When have we ever taken the easy route?” Kevin snarks. “I told you, I want you to fuck me. Just do it already.”
Jeremy huffs with laughter, twirling a lock of black hair around his finger. “I didn’t expect you to be so desperate about this.”
“I-I’m not—“
“Yeah, you are. You’re begging for it,” Jeremy says.
“If Jean would just hurry the fuck up and—“
Jean slaps the tip of his cock against Kevin’s entrance several times. The Queen stops dead in his tracks, chest not even moving to breathe. Quick but careful, Jean pushes in.
Kevin squeaks.
“That’s new,” Jean taunts.
Stopping every second or so, Jean watches and listens for signs of distress. His calluses scrap against the soft skin on the globes of Kevin’s ass as Jean holds him open. Despite the muscle underneath, he gets a good handful of fat slipping through his fingers. The familiar urge to slap suddenly arises, but Jean pushes it back into the depths of his brain.
It’s not long before Kevin gasps and claws at the carpet.
“Fuck, wait. Wait wait wait. I—fuck,” Kevin hisses. Jean pauses.
Up at his head, Jeremy hums and grabs Kevin by the cheeks. “You okay?”
The Queen sinks. No longer braced on his forearms, Kevin presses his chest to the floor, back arched and ass raised higher. The muscles of his shoulders stretch and define themselves—fucking mouthwatering.
“Big,” is all Kevin manages to choke out. Blood burns hotter through Jean’s body, and he can’t tell if it’s embarrassing or flattering.
Jeremy furrows his eyebrows and peeks over to where the two connect. “Kev, he’s only halfway in.”
“Fuckin’ what?”
“I warned you,” Jean says. “But I can pull out if—“
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Kevin snaps. “Just give me a goddamn minute. Fuck.”
“Every inch he takes adds another swear to his sentences,” Jeremy points out, smiling to Jean. “Now that you’re bottoming, can I point out how incredible your ass is? Like, seriously, you were made for this.”
From far away, anyone could see the overwhelming blush Kevin wears; not just his face, but the tips of his ears, the back of his neck, even his shoulders glow pink.
At least Kevin’s break gives Jean a moment to breathe. He closes his eyes and inhales, reveling in the tight, wet hug around his cock, the way Kevin’s body trembles under him, the pulses as he tenses and relaxes. Exhaling is more a purr than an actual human noise, rolling against his soft palate.
“Jeremy is right. You feel incredible.”
“Shut up,” Kevin grits out. “You can move again.”
Jean almost obeys on instinct. Something in his chest stops him.
He has Kevin in front of him. Halfway planted on his cock, shaking like a chihuahua with frantic energy. Desperate. Needy. Idly, he wonders how much he could get away with; how many fantasies can he fulfill?
“No,” Jean decides, gripping Kevin’s ass tighter, “not until you ask more politely.”
Kevin scoffs. “Hah. Funny. C’mon, move.”
“No,” Jean shrugs.
The smile on Jeremy’s face turns sadistic. It’s a rare expression from him, typically only seen during court fights, and Jeremy is several feet away but Jean wants to taste how sharp that grin is.
“All you have to do is say ‘please’.” Jeremy scritches affectionately at Kevin’s temples. “I know you have manners. You’re so sweet to me.”
“…I’m not sweet,” the Queen grumbles, legs twitching impatiently. Kevin tries to push himself back onto Jean’s cock, but Jean holds him steady. “Jean.”
“You underestimate how long I am willing to stay here. Idle. Unmoving. I can sit here for hours, watching you warm my cock. It is just one word, Kevin, are you telling me you cannot do it? Is it too difficult for you?”
Kevin shoves his face in his arms and groans—whether in frustration or arousal, Jean can’t tell.
It takes an entire minute before the Queen looks back up, peering over his shoulder to see Jean.
“Please,” he says flatly.
“Not good enough,” Jeremy sings. “I don’t think you mean it.”
“I do!” Kevin argues back, scowling.
“Prove it to me, mon ange.” Petting up Kevin’s spine, Jean trails his fingers across the defined muscles and puckered scars.
Tone high, desperate, Kevin begs with his eyes. “Jean, please.”
His voice cracks, far more genuine than any of them had anticipated. Kevin instantly hides back in his arms. Blush radiates heat off his shoulders, and the Queen clears his throat as if the other two can’t hear him. Jeremy sinks down to pepper kisses across his head.
“That was perfect. What’d you think, Jean?”
Jean slides the rest of the way in without warning.
Kevin shouts more than moans; his back arches dramatically, toes curling, hands frantically clutching the fabric of Jeremy’s sweatpants.
“Aw, poor baby,” Jeremy chuckles with no real sympathy attached. He scoots closer so Kevin can wrap arms around his legs, face buried in his lap.
“You…are so tight,” Jean whispers, struggling to hold onto his composure. “And you make such gorgeous sounds.”
“No I-I don’t,” the Queen whines. “‘S too big. I can’t take it.”
“You are taking it right now.” Jean moves his hands from Kevin’s ass to his waist. “All that begging and you can’t handle it?”
Syrupy slow, Jean retracts his hips and thrusts back in, finding resistance with how Kevin clenches. Lube squelches when their pelvises connect, beautifully filthy. That one move has Kevin shaking with irregular gasps against Jeremy’s thigh.
“I didn’t think you were capable of sounding like this,” the blond says.
“Just fuck me already,” Kevin pleads, sounding one step away from sobbing.
“What’s the magic word?” Jeremy prods.
“Please. Please. S’il te plaît. Just fucking do it.”
Jean rolls his hips, eliciting a moan from Kevin. He never pulls out far, presses down and pulls Kevin up so they thoroughly connect each time. It’s easy to keep a relaxed pace and allow himself room to stay calm, allow Kevin to stretch out and acclimate to it.
Jeremy keeps a close watch on the other’s expressions. Jean probably looks half dead by now, brain melting out his body while all his blood pools in his groin. Breathing through his nose isn’t enough, so he switches to his mouth to get air.
From tip to root, warm, textured heat encompasses Jean’s cock. He swears he can feel Kevin’s heartbeat on every point they meet, and wants to experience that pump atop his tongue. Wants to suck purple bruises in embarrassing places so Kevin will see them and be reminded of who was there, what they did. Jean wants to fuck the Queen until he cries, until Jean cums deep inside him, until Kevin is whimpering and weak under his body.
Jean wants to ruin Kevin for everyone else. Wants Kevin to only think of him and Jeremy, no matter who he may sleep with later.
Suddenly, Kevin mumbles something into Jeremy’s leg.
“What was that?” Jeremy asks.
“Can…Can you go faster?” He says over his shoulder, looking dazed. “Please, Jean.”
His broad, scarred back is warm against Jean’s chest when he leans over to blanket Kevin’s body. He braces himself upright with one hand but pets around the Queen’s torso with the other, purposely avoiding the dripping cock hanging heavy between his legs.
“You are adorable. I want to eat you alive,” Jean purrs in his ear. Kevin gasps, shoving his ass back.
Jean thrusts into him once per second. The collisions knock moans out of Kevin’s throat, higher-pitched than his usual voice. Jeremy digs a hand in Jean’s hair to twirl curls around his fingers. Nerves spark from his scalp down his spine, all the way to where his knees are planted on the floor between Kevin’s.
“You look good like this,” Jeremy whispers, kissing him on the forehead. “It’s hot when you’re mean.”
Lifting his head up, Jean drifts closer to his partner in request. Jeremy rubs their noses together before their lips meet. The action is oddly soft, given what the rest of Jean’s body is doing, but it doesn’t distract from the rhythm he’s fallen into with Kevin.
Jeremy sighs into the kiss and pulls back to peck along Jean’s cheekbone. He goes all the way up to Jean’s hairline where sweat starts to form. “I think you can rile him up a little more.”
Clutching Kevin’s sides, Jean pulls them both back until he’s on his haunches, the Queen impaled on his lap.
“Fuck!” Kevin shouts. Jean wraps arms around his waist, but Kevin shoves at them with his palms, trying to push himself up. “You’re such a bastard.”
“I know,” Jean says in his ear.
Having Kevin this close is pure intoxication. Pressed together from leg to temple, taking in the scent of what Kevin is under his soap and cologne and deodorant, so deep inside him Jean can’t fully think straight. Cheek on Kevin’s carotid pulse, arms caging him in, hips rolling up to keep fucking him through the shock.
In front of them, Jeremy sits with a wide-eyed stare. His gaze darts from one section of their bodies to another. Hair, face, neck, chest, arms, stomach, thighs, Kevin’s cock dripping precum against his navel, the exact place Jean disappears inside the Queen.
Jeremy combs fingers through his hair and exhales very, very slowly. “That…is a sight.”
“Kevin has always been disgustingly beautiful,” Jean gripes. He’s close enough to taste Kevin’s skin. Mouth against trapezius, he pants and inhales the presence off him.
“Too deep—too deep, I can’t—please.” Kevin throws his head into Jean’s shoulder.
Jeremy quickly studies his face. “Jean, his eyes are watering. Maybe give him a break.”
Jean drops any weight of Kevin’s he may have been holding, causing the other man to ragdoll into him. Kevin heaves, trembles, twitches as he’s stuffed full without support lifting him up.
Tears stream down his cheeks; Jean licks one of the drops on his jaw. The salt hits like epinephrine, tastes like victory.
“Remember,” Jean says, “one word and we end this. One word and it can be over. Do you wish to use it?”
Kevin shakes his head.
“Anything you want to change?” Jean asks.
“Pull out for a minute,” Kevin says, voice cracking. “I can’t think.”
Carefully, Jean lifts Kevin up far enough where he can slide his cock out, then drops the Queen back in his lap. His erection still rubs between the curves of Kevin’s glutes and the small of his back, keeping him warm with his sleeve gone.
It’s too hard to resist touching him, so Jean runs his hands up Kevin’s body.
Warm drops of lube splatters onto Jean’s thighs, dripping from Kevin’s hole. “You feel incredible, mon ange.”
“Don’t call me that, asshole,” he manages to snark back despite crying.
“Give me a valid reason not to.”
Kevin opens his mouth but never produces a response.
Crawling over to them, Jeremy settles in front of Kevin and cups his hip bones, kissing across his face. The two fit so perfectly together Jean finds it hard to look at. There is something so strangely normal about Kevin and Jeremy’s dynamic; no cults or codependency or deeply traumatic events between them. Maybe that’s why Jeremy’s presence makes the Queen regress into something simpler. There is no inherent power imbalance between the two, yet Kevin submits to him like second nature.
Jean has been fighting against his urge to love it, feeling as if he should despise whatever’s between them that he can’t provide. But he just can’t find the energy anymore.
Kevin will never be able to replace Jeremy’s position as his partner—no matter how much Jean used to pray he could—and Jeremy will never be able to comprehend the horrors of the Nest like Kevin or Neil can. The imbalance is inevitable, so Jean may as well accept it.
Seeing how dazed Kevin goes when Jeremy kisses him is incredibly easy to appreciate.
“You poor thing,” Jeremy smiles into his lips, “was Jean being mean to you?”
“Yes,” Kevin snaps, not a hint of Jeremy’s teasing tone reciprocated.
“Complain later when you stop grinding against me,” Jean retorts.
Kevin huffs and sniffles. He melts into Jean like butter on a warm pan, breathing in a very deliberate pattern to ground himself. With his body so open and vulnerable, trapped in Jean’s lap, Jean uses the opportunity to touch places Kevin has always dodged away from.
He gropes Kevin’s pecs, first of all. Soft peach fuzz, corded muscle, two dusky nipples that peak up into Jean’s palms as his calluses scrape them. Kevin squirms—again grinding back on Jean’s cock, purposeful or otherwise. Jean flicks his fingers over the sensitive buds and peers over Kevin’s shoulder to watch him drip precum.
The second place Jean aims for is the milky white of Kevin’s inner thighs. Jean brushes over the skin as soft as physically possible until the Queen jolts away from the tingle—but he’s too securely planted to escape. So close but so far away, Jean continues to avoid Kevin’s erection.
“That tickles,” Kevin says, glare not matching his words at all.
“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful your thighs are?”
“I—yeah. I’m a famous Exy player, of course they have.”
“Has anyone else ever touched you like this, Kevin?”
“…No. Just you. And probably Jeremy, soon.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”
Kevin groans against Jean’s neck, bringing a hand up to cup the other side. Due to how he shakes like a newborn lamb, Jean gives in and wraps a hand around his cock. There’s a sigh of relief, but it instantly turns to an annoyed grumble when Jean offers a single stroke only to pull away.
Finally, Jean brings his hand between Kevin’s legs, massaging his perineum with precum-slick fingers. Warm air from Kevin’s breath blows against Jean’s skin. “Stop teasing me.”
“I am not teasing. I am simply touching you,” Jean says, keeping his tone innocent. “You have been so secretive with us. How else am I supposed to figure out where you enjoy being touched?”
Kevin doesn’t answer that. Instead he says, “You can put it back in me now.”
“Oh? Have you calmed down enough?”
“Fuck off.”
Jeremy tuts in disapproval. “C’mon, Kev, what did we just say about manners?”
The Queen curls in on himself, fingers twitching on Jean’s neck. “Sorry…Jean, please?”
A wicked smile carves up Jean’s cheeks. Satisfaction lays heavily in his stomach, swirls through his skull. Having Kevin be this submissive is pure euphoria. Jean nips the shell of his ear and wraps his arms back around his waist. “Good job. Raise your hips for me.”
With some light maneuvering, Kevin lifts up until Jean can slide the tip of his cock back into his hole. He pulls Kevin down until he’s buried in the Queen, their chests rising rapidly while acclimating.
“Oh, fuck,” Kevin groans. His body goes limp, clenching around the length.
“There you go, Kev,” Jeremy says, smiling. “You’re a natural. Jean, you okay?”
“You will have to pry me out of him.”
It takes two seconds for Kevin to become impatient with Jean’s stillness. He uses his planted knees to work himself up and down. “C’mon, I can handle it.”
“Needy,” Jean taunts in his ear.
As soon as he starts rolling his hips, Kevin sinks into the motions and refuses to help out. Bottoming out knocks gasps, then high whines from the Queen’s throat until he clutches any part of Jean possible for support. His unscarred hand sinks into Jean’s curls and tugs, shooting pure fire down his spine. Jean thrusts harder as a reward and uses their embrace to shove Kevin down into it.
“That’s so fucking deep,” Kevin heaves. “Gimme more, Jean.”
Jean easily slides in and out with the assistance of lube. Slick squelches and slapping skin, Kevin’s rhythmic whimpers—it all combines into an obscene song that Jean loves listening to. Giddiness makes his head swim. Jean adjusts his grip, left hand on Kevin’s marble hipbone and right hand scraping up his torso to rest just under his collar.
“There is so much I’m curious about,” he says, “so much I want to do to you. May I play with you for a while, mon ange?”
“Do anything, I don’t care—fuck—just keep going.”
Jean’s right palm settles over Kevin’s throat. His fingers and thumb find both carotid arteries and squeeze.
In front of them, Jeremy’s eyes widen but he finally sinks a hand into his own pants. The bulge of his fist moves in a stroking pattern; Jean’s mouth waters watching him.
Kevin’s heart rabbits under his fingertips, each beat pumping addictively. Pleasure sparks in Jean’s nerves; the root of every hair, the tip of every bone, the knot of every muscle, he feels it. He vibrates with it. He sinks his teeth in Kevin’s trapezius just to cope with it.
The Queen mewls. Jean can’t see his eyes from this angle, but he assumes they roll back. Releasing the pressure on his neck makes Kevin gasp, wiggling furiously in Jean’s lap.
“Jean, you gotta do this to me sometime,” Jeremy says breathlessly. “Kevin can watch; he should see how fucking hot this is from an outside perspective. Oh my God, he’s drooling.”
Jean pulls back to get a good look and sees the saliva dripping from the corner of Kevin’s lips. Gorgeous green eyes are dilated and dazed, face covered in rosy blush.
“Do you remember your word, mon ange?”
“…Yeah. Yeah.”
“Do you want to use it?”
“No. Keep goin’.”
When Jean squeezes his neck again, Kevin smiles dizzily and rolls his hips in time with Jean’s thrusts.
Jean drops him and moves down to his chest, scraping a fingernail over Kevin’s nipple. Kevin jolts and thrusts his own cock in the air, precum oozing at his tip.
Jeremy laughs and replaces Jean’s hand with his own, fingers caressing up and down the column of Kevin’s throat. “You’re so cute. You want more?”
“Uh-huh,” Kevin murmurs, “I’m so close.”
“We’ve barely even touched your cock,” Jean says. He continues to flick over Kevin’s nipples to watch him writhe and moan. Jeremy takes over squeezing and releasing the Queen’s neck while jerking himself off, big eyes alight with desire.
“I don’ care, feels so good,” he gasps.
Jean hums, rubs his flank, then slaps Kevin hard on the ass. “I have always wanted to do that,” he says idly.
A red handprint and crying Queen is left in his wake.
Silent tears form waterfalls down his face; along with his trembling and moans and marks, he is completely and utterly perfect. “Jean, please…”
“Please what?”
“Make me cum. Hit me again. Please?”
Jeremy and Jean meet eyes, the blond raising an eyebrow to ask permission. Jean nods once, so Jeremy takes Kevin’s cock in his hand the same moment another hit lands.
“I can’t believe we didn’t know how much of a masochist you are,” Jeremy teases. “This is gonna make things fun.”
Kevin whines unintelligibly. Jean licks the tears off his cheek and feels pulsating warmth underneath the skin. He could do just about anything and Kevin may not even try to stop him—not when he’s this fucked stupid and dazed.
“‘M gonna cum. I can’t—I can’t take it anymore—“ Kevin paws around for Jean’s hand on his hip. He grabs him by the wrist and brings him up, shoving Jean’s palm back atop his neck. “Choke me.”
Jean grins wildly, fingers tensing over Kevin’s pulse.
“Jeremy, have him make a mess of himself. I want him covered in cum, inside and out.”
“Can I just say, I’m super into the way you’re acting right now, and I’m probably gonna cum in about two seconds,” Jeremy mumbles, stroking himself and Kevin faster.
“Good. You can cum on Kevin, too.”
Jeremy laughs through his orgasm. Head thrown back, smiling at the ceiling, he’s sunny and glorious and beautiful. He pulls himself out of his sweats and paints Kevin’s stomach white. It flows down and pools in the creases of his thighs, dripping onto Jean’s legs.
Kevin follows his lead with a shout right after Jean releases his neck. It’s overwhelming when his hole tightens, clenching around the base of Jean’s cock. Kevin goes limp, but Jean holds his ribs and lifts him up and down; the Queen allows himself to be used like a toy while catching his breath.
Every time he drops Kevin’s weight, it knocks out a whine that fuels Jean’s arousal further.
“Hurry up,” Kevin pleads past the sob in his throat.
“You said you could handle it,” Jean retorts, “either tap out or stop pretending to hate this.”
Pressure pumps higher and higher in Jean’s gut. His thrusts are less and less refined and his vision goes blurry at the edges.
When he finally cums, he forces Kevin as far down onto his cock as possible. Jean spills deep inside him; some primal part of his brain really, really likes it. He scoops Jeremy’s cum off Kevin’s thighs and stuffs it into the Queen’s mouth. The moans vibrate his fingers.
“I think he’s about to faint,” Jeremy says. Kevin groans in agreement.
“You want me to pull out?” Jean asks, and the Queen nods. “Fine. Though I love having you as a personal cock sleeve.”
He uses Kevin’s waist as a handhold to raise him off and drop him in Jeremy’s lap. Jeremy naturally pulls him into a hug, petting and kissing his hair while Kevin slumps against his chest.
“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” the blond whispers.
“I need an exorcist,” Jean says back. He shakes with energy, emerging from a headspace that clouded his moral judgement. It’s oddly fun.
Jeremy hums. “I don’t know. I think we should keep you like this for a few days. Let me have a turn or five.”
Jean leans over to kiss his forehead. “Maybe. You are far too precious for me to treat this way.”
“Asshole,” Kevin mumbles.
“Do you have any complaints, mon ange?”
“…No.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Okay, okay, enough fighting,” Jeremy says. “We gotta clean up. Or…I guess clean Kevin up. Jesus. We really made a mess of you, huh?”
A smile breaks out on Kevin’s face—he thinks he hides it in Jeremy’s chest, but he doesn’t—and he shrugs. The motion highlights the bite mark Jean left on his trap muscle. It’s something Jean should be scared of, but can’t bring himself to be. It wasn’t a mark made with malice or harmful intent, and Kevin looks far too satisfied with himself to be secretly upset about it. Picturing other people seeing the bite, seeing Kevin not be ashamed of it, seeing that he is marked property—that does something funny to Jean’s head he can’t comprehend.
Jean bends over to gently kiss the knob of Kevin’s spine. “You are a gorgeous mess.”
Goosebumps erupt under his lips, skin hot with blush. “We aren’t fucking anymore. You don’t have to pull that sappy bullshit.”
Jeremy scoffs in offense. “Yeah, right. If anything, I’m gonna pull that sappy bullshit even more. C’mon, babycakes, let’s get you in a shower.”
“I would if I could feel my legs.”
Hearing this, Jean grabs Kevin and drags him back into his lap. He manually adjusts Kevin’s legs straight, then wraps arms around his waist to hold him close. Cum smears across Kevin’s skin. “Oh no. What a shame. You will just have to stay here until you can feel them again.”
Kevin snickers. He relaxes into the hold.
“You two are dorks,” Jeremy accuses. He shimmies between Kevin’s spread thighs, idly squishing the meat of them. “How was it bottoming for the first time, by the way?”
The Queen’s smile turns fox-like. “Jean had a turn. You’re up next.”
Jeremy shows his appreciation by devouring Kevin’s grin.