The Delaneys At Home (2 page)

By the time Johnny reached my chest, and Mark my knees, it was taking all my concentration not to move. More than anything I wanted Johnny's tongue on my nipples and Mark's lips round my cock. That would be heaven, but I wasn't convinced they'd do it. After all,
punishment
had been the operative word before they'd started on me. And I remembered what I'd told them before--how what I most wanted was not my own enjoyment but theirs. God help me, it was true, too.

Johnny's mouth trailed a line of kisses and small licks over my chest, but my nipples remained untouched. I couldn't help groaning at such a loss, then found myself panting as Mark started to stroke me with cool fingers at the back of my knees.

Up until this point, I'd never realized the back of the knees could be an erogenous zone, but apparently it was. Why on earth did none of the top shelf gay magazines tell you this? I swore if he simply carried on doing that, then I might be able to give the whole of the rest of it a miss. Almost.

My gasp became a moan and then a series of pleas. "Mark, please, that's fantastic...please, don't stop. I really love you. Love you both, please."

Against my stomach, Johnny's breath of laughter made me shiver. I needed only to shift slightly on the bed and my cock would be touching his face. I thought I might even come from that faint brush of contact. No, I
definitely
would, especially if Mark kept on stroking my knees.

"Please," I begged again, not even quite sure what I might be begging for. By now, Mark's mouth was pressed against my inner thigh, and my greedy cock was the only thing separating the twins.

Just when I thought I might actually die if one of them didn't touch me where I most wanted it, Mark pushed Johnny out of the way and then turned me onto my side, sliding me farther down the bed as he did so.

"Oh, no," he said, his eyes dark with an intent I couldn't interpret. "You don't get to come that easily. Not if you're being punished. The same doesn't apply to us, though. Whatever happens next, you can't spill.
Do you understand?
This time there's no reward later, so don't expect one."

"No, sir," I managed to stammer out, wondering how in hell I was supposed to obey him.

"You can move if you need to," Johnny whispered. "Isn't that true, Mark?"

As I lay panting and so near orgasm that the only thing keeping me from going entirely over the edge was the thin blade of the twins' orders, Mark nodded.
Thank God.
Because if I couldn't hold back the flow manually, then I didn't have a fighting chance of taking any of the punishment he'd decided on.

Then he turned me over so he was behind me. I heard the sound of a zipper being undone, then warm gel soothed my arse. At the same time, Johnny slipped up the bed until I could see his own cock straining against his trousers.
Ah, lucky, lucky me.
At this rate, I'd have to concentrate like never before in order to fulfill the Delaneys' expectations.

I only hoped I was up to it.

Johnny unzipped himself, and I opened wide to take as much of him in as possible. Meanwhile, making sure I didn't forget the twin I couldn't see, I relaxed my arsehole and was rewarded as Mark pushed himself deliciously inside. By now my heartbeat was way off the scale, and I had no option but to slide my hands down and grip the base of my cock as firmly as I could in order to stave off what threatened to be the inevitable.

Multitasking--I liked to think I was in touch with my feminine side.

For a while, I continued to suck Johnny's cock, while Mark filled my arse until I couldn't imagine how I could ever bear to be empty. And somehow I managed to hold back my own excitement so my cock kept teetering on the brink, but stepping no farther. Then Johnny cried out and his hot slick filled my mouth while I swallowed it down. All the time Mark kept on thrusting himself into me, withdrawing until only his cockhead remained in contact with my arsehole and then ramming himself home once more.

Somehow, the fact Johnny had come, but Mark had not, sent my heat quota way off the scale. The bedroom shimmered in front of my eyes and my throat felt parched, in spite of the coffee, as I struggled to maintain even some semblance of control.

God help me, but, no matter what anyone wanted, I was going to come soon.

"Please, Johnny, please." I panted. "I can't hold out.
I can't.
"

But he was already there, calm hands wrapped around my base, and pushing down, reining me in, a buffer to his brother's wilder movements behind.

"Be strong, Liam," he whispered. "We know you can do it. We
trust
you."

And that was enough. I clung to him, my cock as hard as an unexploded bomb, and all but weeping, as Mark gave a loud shout, together with a final thrust deep inside my body.

I spent the next half-hour sprawled on the bed and messing around with the two of them, whilst trying to think somber thoughts so I could keep myself under control until Mark took pity on me.

"Go on then," he said. "You've proved you can do it. So bring yourself off. I want to see you come."

With a smile, I reached down to obey Mark's command. At first I took it slow, running my fingers up and down my length as my bollocks became ever tighter. I kept my eyes down, fixed on my cock, watching myself as my excitement mounted.

"Look at us, Liam," Mark demanded, and my eyes snapped up. Still, I couldn't really focus and my gaze shifted from twin to twin, back and forth as if I were at a tennis match. Maybe what they said about eyesight and cock-abuse was right then.

I kept on pumping myself and then Johnny's hand joined mine, and I gasped. Mark said nothing. He just carried on staring at me, but something in his gaze seemed softer. Then he leaned even closer, and the next thing I knew he was kissing me. Full on. His tongue was so far down my throat that with only a slight adjustment of our position and a hell of a different physiology he could have been wrapping his tongue around my cock instead of my tonsils. Not that I was complaining. Oh, no.

I whimpered and, at the same time, I was coming, the shock of it making me lurch backward against the headboard. The Delaney twins, trained as they were for combat or the attempted escape of their victims, launched themselves after me. Mark even managed to keep his tongue melded to my mouth, whilst Johnny kept his grip around my streaming cock. It was astonishing what skills a military background had given them. It almost made me want to sign up for the army life on the spot.
Almost.

Johnny and I collapsed on the bed, laughing. Mark finished his kiss and, before I could regret that particular loss, Johnny had pressed his fingers against my lips to allow me to lick my own juice off his skin. I lapped at him, moaning when I saw his eyes darken.

Mark smiled.

"Thank you, Liam," he said.

Right there and then, I would have done anything for them both.

* * * *

And so, Day One of living with the two men in my life began with something of a high. However, as I'd suspected, living with a lover--or in my case, two--was going to take a little more than simply sex, spunk and submission, marvelous though all these things were. It was going to take something else entirely.

Staying power.

Because at around about midnight, the Delaneys were still going strong, sipping their wine and discussing some aspect of their business I suspected it was best not to hear too much of. I was slumped on the sofa, eyes half-shut and phasing regularly in and out of my surroundings. I had never been one for late nights, not unless sex was involved. And right now it looked like it wasn't. Not that I was complaining, not really anyway. Moving house was said to be one of the top three stressors of all time, and hell, but I needed to sleep. The big question was: where?

The twins had separate rooms, obviously. So I would either be expected to sleep in a room on my own, which I hadn't been introduced to yet, or with one or the other of the Delaneys, presumably Mark. If this were the case, it left me with a quandary. I didn't want to leave Johnny out. Maybe it was best to sleep by myself, though I didn't much like that idea either. God, why did they never teach you this sort of social etiquette in school? I could have done with some other bugger showing me the way, rather than muddling through on my own. Some hope.

"Liam."

I sprang to my feet, rocketing up at the sound of Mark's voice, like a rabbit startled by the farmer's gun. "Yes, sir?"

Mark stared at me, a frown creasing his beautiful forehead. I wanted nothing more than to smooth it away, preferably with my tongue, but I doubted he'd be up for it right now. Shame.

"Were you asleep?" he asked.

I had no idea. Possibly. It was hard to tell. I didn't know what he might have been asking me so best not to wing it and pretend I'd been alert. Best to go with the truth option.

"I don't know, sir," I said. "I might've been. I was thinking about it, that's for sure. It's late, isn't it? And I didn't know what you both intended to do about bed. I mean for sleeping, not for sex. Where you might want me to be, that is..."

I trailed off as Mark continued to stare at me. He coughed and licked his lips. The red wine had stained his tongue and, if I'd been even slightly more alert, I'd have bounded across the space between us and tasted for myself, bringing Johnny into the equation, too, if I could manage it. However, the spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak.

"Late?" Mark repeated. "But it's only just gone midnight."

As he continued to gaze at me, obviously seeking clarification for my time-keeping idiocy, Johnny laughed.

"Not everyone keeps our business hours, big brother," he said. "Liam has to go to work in the morning and he's had a heavy day. He's tired."

Mark sighed and put down his glass. The heavy crystal glinted in the twinkle from the wall light. "Of course. Seeing how we've finished our business, I suppose an early night won't harm us. It'll be a novelty."

He leapt to his feet and strode toward the door. Johnny shrugged and followed him, with me tagging along behind. Our small entourage swept through the hallway and up the curving staircase, carpeted in a soft pink. Not a color I'd ever associated with the Delaneys, but I was quickly coming to see how dating the pair wasn't the same as living with them.

At the top of the stairs, the landing divided into two, with one exit to the left and the other to the right. Mark gestured toward the bedroom we'd enjoyed ourselves in earlier.

"That's my wing," he said, "and the other is Johnny's."

All very grand, I thought, but it didn't really help with my choice, or how Mark was intending to play it.

"My bedroom has been well used already tonight," he continued, "so we can sleep in my brother's room. Johnny?"

The younger twin's smile lightened up his whole face and he gave me a most definite wink. "Thank you, Mark. In that case, come this way."

From the top of the staircase, I couldn't see either hallway properly as both wings--as Mark called them--were lit only by dimmed lights, but I assumed it would be the same lush richness as I'd experienced earlier.

How wrong I was. As Johnny led us both down the left-hand corridor, he pressed a switch and the way before us was floodlit like the local stadium on a Saturday night. Instead of the trappings of splendor Mark so obviously delighted in, Johnny's taste was minimalist in the extreme. The carpet was pale cream, and I passed two pictures hung opposite each other that caught my eye.

"Miro," I said, unable to stop myself. "Fabulous."

Johnny slowed down for a moment and flashed me a grin. "Yes, I'm very fond of them."

Next to him, Mark snorted. "I'd be even fonder if we had the originals, but, despite all our efforts, it proved impossible."

I gulped and couldn't help wondering what kind of effort they'd had to make to try to get hold of a major artistic figure of the twentieth century and whether anyone had been seriously injured in the attempt.

As if he'd known exactly what I was thinking, Mark made a dismissive gesture. "You civilians. Don't concern yourself. Nobody died while I was looking for a birthday present for Johnny, not initially anyway. Though, of course, I don't like failure."

"It was a lovely thought," Johnny chipped in. "That's all that matters."

"So you always say," Mark replied, leaning forward to admire one of the paintings. "And at least the forger won't be making copies for anyone else, so these are certainly unique."

I blinked, not really wanting to pursue the conversation in the way it seemed to be going, but sparing a thought or two for the unfortunate forger. Luckily, the conversation appeared to be over, and we continued to head toward what must have been Johnny's bedroom.

He opened the door and the three of us entered, Mark first, of course, then me, with Johnny bringing up the rear. Now
there
was an idea for when I was more awake. The next moment, all plans were swept entirely out of my head and I spun around on my heels to take in Johnny's surroundings. If anything could be less like Mark, I had yet to find it. Here the décor was pale wood and cotton. A floor buffed to within an inch of its life led my eye to the almost see-through, long cream curtains drifting a little as the wind took them. On every wall I saw almost equally long plain mirrors and there was barely any furniture. Only a light grey king-size futon took pride of place in the middle of the room.

Mark laughed.

"My brother likes to live simply," he said. "In another life, he'd probably be a monk."

I was no psychiatrist, but somehow I didn't think this was likely. On the other hand, I supposed it depended on what those monks got up to. All the rumors surely couldn't be true, could they?

No matter. There was no time for theology as, without more ado, Mark gestured at the bed.

"You two settle yourselves down," he said, "while I go and get ready. Try not to be too long. I hate being kept waiting."

Then he was gone, and Johnny and I were alone. I smiled at him, feeling suddenly and unexpectedly shy. A ridiculous reaction bearing in mind what the three of us had been getting up to.