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Sean Bean was in bed with Alec Trevelyan, Richard Sharpe, and Boromir of Gondor. It made for some interesting experiences. He had never been fucked by a man who looked like himself while fucking another twin. Maybe this cloning idea had merit.
The clones (which was how he thought of them) had decided to make all his dreams come true. At once. Boromir, incurable top that he was, had spread Sean gently over the armrest of his beige couch while Sharpe had played camp follower and knelt between his splayed legs, proping him up as well as sucking his very interested cock. Alec had covered his chest with kisses from his position on the couch, on his elbows to get a better angle. Sean had never known that the feel of rough scars against heated flesh could feel so good. He hadn't come that hard since he was a teenager staring at pictures of Prince Charles.
And then Boromir had lifted him up for a round in the kitchen, with Alec's sturdy buttocks planted firmly around Sean's cock and Alec's hands had kept him busy while they watched Boromir kneel to another officer and show him a thing or two about camp following. The sight itself had almost sent Sean over the edge, even without moans that sounded almost (but not quite) like his own filling the room. Sean didn't think he'd be able to look at peanut butter the same way for a while, especially after Richard smeared it over his nipples and made Boromir lick it off.
They had finally made it to the bedroom, all participants very sticky and sweaty, not that they were complaining. Richard immediatly mounted Sean, making up for all the jokes ever made at his expense about not liking horses, and went about proving that being buggered since the age of nine paid off in having a lot of experience and knowing just what people liked. Sean was inclined to agree, especially since Alec and Boromir were attacking Sean's cock like it was an enemy agent, tongues blaring like swords and guns. Sean had been given a handfull of hard cock to play with while they were assaulting him and from the obvious unlack of foreskin realized that it could belong to any of his bedpartners. The anonymity made it even better, he supposed. He couldn't tell which tongue was which, though both were incredably talented, and one of them had just recieved pleasure by his hand, and he didn't know which. Mouth unoccupied, Sean tilted his head back and screamed from the sheer joy of it all.
But before Sean could come, Boromir moved under him quickly and let Sean feel the delightful friction of a virgin hole against his wet cock, even if Boromir wouldn't let him enter it. Showering afterwards was certainly fun, even if they had to do it in shifts so they all could be in with Sean. Boromir and Richard elected to take first shift out of the tub and wash Sean while Alec showed him just how skillfull Cossacks were at kissing. Sean absently wondered if Stalin would have been more lenient if one of Alec's uncles or whatnot had taken him to bed.
Sean had splurged when he bought the bed and was happy that he had. It was a bed made for an orgy, especially the cuddle session that followed. Sean drifted off to sleep warm between his favorite clones, arms and legs entangled worse than his hair would be in the morning. Richard's lips were ghosting over the nape of Sean's neck while Boromir's tongue was busy with the inside of Sean's elbow. Alec slept almost completely under him, spooning him from behind, holding him close as he whispered Russian nothings into Sean's ear. With a pleasureful sigh, Sean relaxed and fell asleep, warm and safe.