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It goes like this when they’re traveling: check into the hotel, hit the bar, recruit someone, back up to the room, and bang.
Usually Alice picks; she’s got better taste. Besides, when Daniel picks for them, more often than not it’s a rejection. Whether it’s the sweaty-palmed nervousness or the cheesy pickup lines (“Montréal, huh? What d’ya say to a ménage-a-trois?”), Daniel doesn’t tend to have a lot of luck when it comes to unicorn hunting. But Alice? Alice has charm. Wit. A beautiful head of inky waves and a fox-eyed ‘come hither’ look, paired with the edge of that cute Mallen streak running from her left eyebrow up to a white patch on her temple. Oh yeah, she’s the whole package. Even with a dope like him hanging off her arm, who could say no?
Armand doesn’t, that’s for sure. The guy’s handsome, fit, young— maybe mid-20’s but carries himself like a man beyond his years. Daniel’s good at noticing things like that. He’s also pretty good at noticing how men look at him; years of hustling trained his eye to that sort of thing. See, when they invite a girl, all three of them get to have some fun sharing each other. When they invite a guy, it’s usually to tag team Alice. The guys don’t wanna touch him, and he’s just fine with that. Better to keep it uncomplicated and baggage-free, save the hard conversations for journalism and journalism alone. All hail Daniel Molloy, the king of compartmentalization!
It’s so easy. It’s so fun. This should be, too, but when they invite guys, they’ve never really looked at him like that before.
Alice whispers something in his ear— Daniel never asks what —that sets this Armand guy’s eyes ablaze as they lock onto his. What strikes Daniel is how amber they are in this lighting, almost frighteningly so. They crawl down his neck, lingering at the collar of his shirt, then down his chest, down, down, down. There’s something between a smirk and a hungry snarl pulling at the side of his mouth, a sharp little canine revealing itself with a flex of his jaw; a nervous tic, a physical tell, something Daniel would pay more attention to as a weak point if he weren’t so busy feeling pinned like a bug on display.
Whatever it is she says, it works. A few minutes later they’re on the third floor, electricity sizzling between the three of them with their little plan set. He gets distracted fumbling for the punch card for the door to their room; Armand’s impossibly amber eyes are boring holes into him, roaming his body like a physical presence slipping beneath his shirt. Alice bites her lip in amusement. She must think she’s so funny, encouraging this. Maybe it’s revenge for the guy Daniel bro-talked into coming with them, only for him to give Alice the creeps before they even got to the elevator. Maybe she’s waiting for him to chicken out. Then again, she wouldn’t have picked an objectively hot one if she wanted him to leave, would she? Maybe it’s a coincidence. Maybe it’s the—
“Is everything alright, Daniel?” Armand asks, way closer than Daniel thought he’d been standing.
“‘S fine,” he grunts, finally finding the key card in his inner jacket pocket and slotting it in place. He can feel Alice take a deep breath. For all she plays tough, plays it easy, she’s just as nervous as he is. This is vulnerable for her too, he thinks. This is a fragile spot in her confidence.
Alright, yeah, he won’t drive the guy off. If it makes her happy seeing him out of his element, then it makes her happy. He’s certainly not aiming to be banished to the couch when they get home. Besides, this Armand guy is… nice. He paid for both of their drinks while they got to talking. He’s got a pretty accent, somewhere between transatlantic and something with a Romance language lilt (Daniel had to refrain from blurting out a volley of questions, for Alice’s sake). He’s an art dealer, apparently. Modern, classical, anything he can get his hands on. Far fancier than their usual fare— it would be a shame not to get closer to the mystery man, do his “thing” and examine the gears that keep him ticking along.
There’s always an awkward minute when that door first swings open. You hang your coat here, kick your shoes off there, find a way to turn the heat up on this situation without making a total jackass of yourself. Armand makes the choice easy for them. Deftly, his fingers skate delicately up the sides of Alice’s arms, raising goosebumps in the wake of his touch. She shivers, giggles, leans backward into his strong chest as his fingers dance around the hem of her short sleeve.
“This dynamic of yours,” Armand begins, impossibly amber eyes locked on Daniel as he shifts about uneasily, “is this something you indulge often?”
The way he speaks is posh and restrained, with the politeness you don’t expect from a man with his hands actively wandering the silhouette of another guy’s girlfriend. Those hands are distracting. They’re pretty, they’re long, they’re dexterous in a way that mirrors the grace in his movements. And… look, he knows it’s a stereotype, but the obviously manicured nails combined with the way Armand looks like he wants to eat Daniel alive is pretty telling of how Alice wants this night to go. Yeah, she thinks she’s so funny.
“Mhm,” Daniel mumbles, the tips of his ears growing warm.
Alice rescues him: “Now and again. Only when we’re out of town.”
This, or perhaps the way Daniel hides his flush by rooting through the minibar, makes Armand chuckle. “You’re quite generous hosts.”
He can hear the frown in Alice’s voice when she notices the tiny bottles of whiskey held by the neck between Daniel’s fingers. “Dan. Put it back.” It’s a short, sharp reprimand. She doesn’t have to elaborate: you’re done drinking tonight.
Ah, busted. Over his shoulder he gives her a half-hearted and sheepish smile, two of the four bottles returning to the fridge. On a regular night he might argue, and this might turn into another of their shouting matches about each other’s habits and vices, but not tonight. Tonight, he promised to behave. To be obedient.
“I take it you’re the one in charge, Alice?” Armand’s amusement only makes the choice to behave even harder. That stubborn streak in him is demanding to push back… but oh man, how good it feels to look into Alice’s warm, brown eyes and see the gentle warning there. To know she’s taking the lead, stopping him before he gets started. That nervousness she felt, the dread of crossing the threshold, is gone. In its place is the Alice who plagued his thoughts from the moment he met her.
“He’s a good boy,” she answers, sending an icy-hot thrill through his body almost as good as any stiff drink. He’s starting to get hard already, he realizes. “He just needs a little reminder now and then. A firm hand.”
Armand’s roaming hands slide over the rounded lushness of her hips, expression thoughtful. “How lucky am I, then, to partake in such an intimate arrangement, even just for a night.”
Oh, that shouldn’t make his heart kick the way it does. As soon as it’s poured Daniel thrusts a Jack and Coke in Armand’s direction, perhaps a bit too forcefully to blame on his nerves. The drink sloshes just a bit over his knuckles, leaving a tantalizing sticky-sweetness fizzing on his fingers.
“A generous offer, but no thank you.” Armand smiles.
Right, so he is trying to piss Daniel off, isn’t he? Daniel leaves the glass on the table, passing the other to Alice— she likes hers a little stronger —and wiping his chilled hands on the pants growing ever tighter in anticipation of his next move.
Alice beckons him over, never really minding Daniel’s cold hands as she instructs them to undress her. The buttons on Alice’s blouse are tiny and stubborn, and Daniel’s almost glad he isn’t drunk like he’d like to be. The mouthwatering sight of her full tits cupped in soft black lace is worth the struggle, though, as is the smooth glide of the backs of his fingers caressing that curve. Armand slides the top from her shoulders, letting it fall discarded to the floor. Alice guides like usual, pulls Daniel forward with a gentle finger tucked lovingly under the cut of his jaw until their lips meet. Warm. Wet. Sugary with the sips of the drink she took before she set it down in favor of other delights, and hot with the afterburn of whiskey. As he slips his tongue in her mouth to chase the taste, a pleased little noise sighing from Alice, he can just barely see past the soft curtain of her hair that Armand has dealt with his own shirt. The build beneath his trim, tailored clothes is surprisingly powerful, dusted with dark hair across his broad, firm— holy shit, how does someone just look like that! —chest. He’s… well, he’s stronger than Daniel. Could probably toss him around like a football, with arms like that. I gotta lift more.
He realizes his jaw’s gone a bit slack when Alice bites down on his bottom lip, regaining his attention. The embarrassment doesn’t last any longer than the pain, soothed by a soft, chaste trail of kisses across his cheek and down to his neck. Alice slides her hands beneath his shirt, rucking it up until Daniel reluctantly steps back to tug the damn thing over his head and toss it somewhere insignificant before dealing with his belt.
Armand is quicker to close back in than Daniel, claiming Alice’s plush lips with a hungry urgency. She’s walked backwards until the backs of her knees hit the foot of the bed, drawing him down to sit with her instead of laying back. It’s a better view for me, Daniel realizes, and the thought soothes the instinctual jealousy in him just as much as it ignites his lust.
Armand looks like a good kisser; not too much tongue, not too forceful, just slow enough that the parting smack of their lips and their quiet moans send a jolt right to Daniel’s cock. He can’t resist palming himself over his clothing, transfixed by the sight. Daniel knows Alice is getting wet at this point by the way she shifts in place, knees pressed together and hands restless: tangled in his thick hair, squeezing the meat of his biceps, running down his torso to undo the button of his slacks. Armand, in turn, somehow manages to unhook her bra without looking. Showoff.
He grabs a greedy palmful of Alice’s breast, kneading almost reverently over the soft skin and thumbing firmly over her nipple in a way that elicits a moan. God, how he loves that sound. Alice can call the shots in bed to her heart’s content, dole out punishment and praise in even tones, but when turned on him that soft whimper is all Daniel needs to know he’s doing something right. It’s addictive. From the wondrous look on Armand’s face, it has that effect on him too.
No longer distracted by the belt and jeans he kicked aside, Daniel takes a moment to observe. It’s the reveal of Armand’s long legs (yeah, just as powerful, which is messing with Daniel’s head a bit) that first brings it to his attention: they look alike. Fuck, seriously, Alice? She wants him to be attracted to this guy. This was her game plan all along, from the moment they sat down at the bar and she pretended to look at anyone but her doppelgänger with the striking eyes.
The thing is, despite his embarrassment it is unfortunately really hot to watch them make out with their mirrored selves. Their skin is almost the same warm brown, their hair the same inky black. If Alice weren’t so fond of the Farrah-do, she would have those ringlets, curling around Armand’s fingers like jewelry. The same cut to the bridges of their noses, bumping gently in their enthusiasm. The heavy-lidded eyes, different in color but alike in the smoldering trap they set. It’s starting to get a bit uncanny.
“God, you guys are like twins,” Daniel blurts out, grabbing himself through his boxers, and the bemused look Alice gives him is enough to send him scrambling for justifications. “I mean, you look similar! Like, um. Not- not in a weird way.”
Armand laughs at him, a rich and beautiful sound, and brushes a lock of Alice’s hair behind her ear. “He isn’t wrong,” he purrs, looking from Daniel to Alice as her own manicured nails— same hands, same wrists, same delicate touch —trace tingling paths up and down the man’s hairy thigh. “We could be siblings.”
Alice bites her lip, allowing Armand to take her delicately by the chin and examine her features in the warm yellow lamplight. “What do you think, Dan?” She brushes her cheek against Armand’s for a side-by-side, feline and faux-innocent. “Don’t we look like brother and sister?” Armand chooses that moment to dive for her neck, kissing and nibbling that spot under her ear that sends her eyelids fluttering shut. Daniel fumes; no random ever just finds that. It took him some practice, at least. Have some fucking respect.
“Yeah,” he says gruffly, feeling a little miffed despite the hot flush taking over his face.
Armand hums, regarding Alice carefully again. “It could be fun to play a sort of game, if you follow my meaning?”
She perks up— always did like a bit of roleplay, a hint of scandal. “Now that’s an idea…”
Daniel feels once again pinned like a bug, standing there like an idiot in his boxers, his growing erection barely flagging as they examine him.
“He could be a neighbor,” Alice suggests, “peeking into our windows only to find out what we’re up to when we’re alone.”
“Or a teacher,” Armand counters. “A coach, a concerned counselor… but perhaps he’s not best suited to the role of an authority.”
Are they… considering roleplaying as—?
“I mean,” and now Alice looks a tad bashful again, “he could still be… y’know. Maybe he takes after dad?”
“Indeed,” Armand purrs, desire dripping from his voice despite the cool, almost scientific curiosity on his face. “He’s such an obedient boy, after all. I’m sure there are plenty of things his brother and sister could teach him.”
Oh my god, they absolutely are.
The shock of it startles a nervous laugh out of Daniel. “You’re weird, man, y’know that? You’re into some weird shit. My brother and sister, c’mon.”
Armand tilts his head, doll-like impassivity softened only by the implication of a smile not quite reaching his pretty lips. How he can convey so much with just a look is beyond Daniel; some guys get all the luck. He’s stuck with the clumsy frown dimpling his chin, his thick brows furrowing, the flare of his nostrils to defend himself from the way his stomach flips.
“Dan,” Alice snaps, her voice a whip cracking through the tension. He hangs his head slightly, frown morphing into more of a pout. That petulance usually gets him… well, not out of trouble, but maybe in less trouble. At the very least, in more fun kinds of trouble. Alice isn’t impressed this time– an audience does that to her, makes her a hardass. “Since when do you turn your nose up at weird shit?” Then, in a gentler tone: “I’ve been Mommy before, right hon? It’s not new to us.” The unspoken implication is there: it’s not the roleplay that’s freaking you out so badly, is it?
Daniel grumbles under his breath. “I guess, it’s just…” A sigh. Is he boring? Getting too old for this kind of shit already, just 28 and already washed up? Is it an overexposure to the crazy gay-for-pay escapades he had in his youth that’s made him burn out early, calcified against new experiences?
Alice’s expression softens. “You don’t have to,” she says, voice low. “It’s just an idea. But like, don’t be a dick about it. Alright?”
He huffs a laugh, plopping down on the mattress next to Armand. “Different strokes, different folks. I know. I get it, I get the fun of the game, but it’s just…”
Armand still has a strange, molten look in his eye. It raises goosebumps on his arms, makes him feel like he answered something he didn’t know was asked.
“You’re afraid,” he says, and it isn’t a question. It shouldn’t be, really, because he’s spot on, but Daniel wishes he would at least feign confusion. “You’re afraid that this will make you seem… perverted.”
The way his lips curl around the word perverted is dizzying. As is the way he speaks, the way he moves, the way he crawls like a panther up the length of his body. Those big amber eyes have gone dark now, heavy and intoxicating as they roam his body. “But Daniel,” he purrs, and before he knows what to do about it they’re nose to nose, himself scooting back on his elbows to avoid colliding with Armand’s sensual advance, “it’s just us three here. There is nobody to impress, nobody to convince but yourself. Why keep trying?”
Over Armand’s shoulder, Daniel can see that Alice has gladly taken a seat in the lumpy, hotel-standard armchair in the corner. Her mischievous smile reassures him only slightly; if she’s watching, she’ll see every embarrassing second of this. Then again, if she’s smiling… is it so bad? Is it so wrong to put on a bit of a show, play the role he’s been given? Indulge a bit?
Perverted. A thrilling word, when he allows himself to think of it. Perverted to share your girlfriend, perverted to have one night stands, perverted to play house the way Armand’s suggesting. It can’t be that much worse to… to be shared like this, can it? He can’t deny Armand is gorgeous, he has working eyes, but he’s so undeniably a man, from the rumble of his voice to the chest hair swirling around his nipples. Daniel hasn’t looked– doesn’t dare to look –but he’s sure Armand’s dick is as interested as Daniel’s reluctantly is.
Don’t think about that part. Blame it on Alice’s smoldering gaze, he tells himself. It’s because she’s so hot, he tells himself. She’s so sexy. It’s getting to him even as their guest for the night stares right through his soul. If he overthinks the way his cock jolts, he’ll chicken out. Don’t think about it.
“Daniel,” the man coos again, daring to reach out and tug aimlessly at a stray curl. “Don’t you see? You’re already there.” He leans in close, breath warm and wet against his ear. “You’re already a pervert, Danny.”
An icy-hot bloom of arousal spreads across Daniel’s chest, sliding like phantom hands down his body to pool in his stomach and make his dick harden almost painfully. And that’s it, isn’t it? No use debating the shit he likes when it’s right there in front of him, offered without apology. It’s not like one night will define him any more than years of blowjobs for blow. “Fuck,” he gasps. “What the hell…yeah.”
Before he can stop himself he leans forward, nose smacking painfully against Armand’s in his haste to just rip the damn bandaid off and do it. Not the first time he’s kissed a guy, after all, but this feels… different. Like he’s crossing a threshold, diving from a cliff he didn’t realize was there until solid ground gave way under his feet. Like an optical illusion, staring at the distant chain link fence of his desire only to find that the boundary is right in front of his face, tangible and close enough to slip his fingers through the gaps.
Armand’s lips part with a pleased sigh, manicured nails scraping tingling lines along his scalp as he cards his fingers through Daniel’s curls. Daniel, for his part, awkwardly grips one-handed at the back of Armand’s shoulder and marvels at the novelty of it despite having done it a dozen times before. He’s felt the scratch of a 9 o’clock shadow against his chin, sure, but Armand’s faint stubble feels better. He’s slid his hands down to a pair of slim hips, but Armand’s fit like a puzzle piece beneath his palms. It feels right. It feels—
“So… is that a yes?” Alice’s sweet, hopeful voice snaps Daniel out of the trance he’s found himself in.
Armand pulls back, gives him a moment to speak. For a second it’s difficult to get his bearings again, waking from a surreal dream where none of this matters into the real world where his real girlfriend is sliding her skirt off of her hips and reclining back into the cuck chair like it’s an emperor’s throne.
They’re waiting for an answer from him, two pairs of inquisitive eyes once again staring into his soul. Daniel tries for nonchalant and stumbles instead into desperation: “Yeah, um. Yes. Let’s fucking do it.”
Armand and Alice share a matching smile— twin smiles, Jesus! He shouldn’t feel like a rabid animal thinking about that! —before Armand sets to work on tugging Daniel’s boxers off.
“No fanfare?” He doesn’t know why he says it, other than the fact that Armand seems like a fanfare guy. Artsy types tend to wanna appreciate the view a bit.
Armand quirks an eyebrow, hands paused where he was busy with Daniel’s waistband, knuckles sharp against the soft skin of his hips. “Do you want fanfare?”
“No.”
“Then stop wasting time, little brother.”
Whew. Okay. So they’re jumping right into it, no assembly required. Daniel mumbles something sarcastic for the sake of his own nerves, hardly hearing himself over the blood rushing in his ears. Armand looks downright hungry as he divests him of his boxers and flings them somewhere to the side. It doesn’t escape him that he and Alice still have that barrier of modesty, if one could call it that. Maybe it’s this, along with the private fun he and Alice are having at Daniel’s expense, that makes him feel so uncommonly out of his element. It makes him feel small, meek, shaky. Like he’s blindfolded and stumbling in the dark, searching for a hand to guide him. Like… like he’s never done this before.
“It’s alright,” Armand soothes, a cool hand pressed to the quivering muscle just above his knee. Oh my god, he’s touching me. I’m naked and he’s touching me. “It’s alright, Danny. You don’t have to know anything right now. Isn’t that right?”
“Yeah,” Alice adds in that sweet, soothing tone that makes his head feel fuzzy. “We’ll teach you how to do it, baby boy. We’ve got you.”
Oh, he likes the sound of that. Alice always did think he “went down” easily, so well-trained to accept the sleepy slowness of drugs and drinks and domination alike. “Do it?” He says, a wide-eyed curiosity brightening his voice. “Do what, though? Like, fucking?”
Armand smiles— a man with all the answers and none of the doubt. “You know how to use your cock,” he replies, “but you have so much more to learn about how to please a lover. Won’t you let us teach you?”
“It’ll be fun,” Alice adds, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and wiggling them off. “What should we start with, your mouth?”
Daniel nods like an eager puppy, going easily where Armand guides him with one of those graceful hands on his lower back. He kneels before Alice’s spread thighs, jaw dropped open and panting when she scoots forward. She’s close enough to touch if he were to just lean in…
“Aht-aht,” Armand tuts, grabbing a fistful of brown curls and pulling his head back. He’s strong, Daniel thinks, perhaps a stupid observation considering the bulk of his arms. But it thrills him, the sureness with which Armand manhandles him. It’s impossible to resist him, tell him off for keeping him held back— it’s not his choice in the first place. “You’re still learning, Daniel. You’d hate to disappoint your sister with a lackluster performance, wouldn’t you?”
Daniel’s brows furrow. “Right… ‘m sorry.”
“Say sorry to Alice.”
“I’m sorry, Alice.” Fuck, he’s good at this. Those well-kept nails are scratching his scalp soothingly, sending him tumbling head first into the haziness of obedience. It’s difficult to imagine disobeying, for once. Aren’t they so generous, teaching him how to make his sister feel good? Isn’t his family just the greatest?
Armand guides his head towards a thigh thrown carelessly over the arm of the chair, slower and more controlled than Daniel’s clumsy forward surge. “Every touch is a tool of pleasure,” Armand explains, sliding his fingers out of Daniel’s hair. “Kiss her here first. Make her ache for the real thing.”
The first ticklish press of Daniel’s lips makes Alice’s inner thigh twitch. The second brings a gasp; he knows this spot is sensitive for her, and it makes him giddy to pretend he’s discovered this by accident. The third brings him to the crease of Alice’s groin, so close to his target that he can’t resist a deep inhale of the musky, aroused scent clinging to the coarse hairs near her entrance.
“The other side,” Armand orders. Alice lets out a strained “c’mon…” but accommodates Daniel’s switch, throwing her other leg over the side of the armchair until she’s completely exposed.
Fuck, this is really doing it for her. There’s a faint wet spot beginning to form on the cushion below her; Daniel spares a thought for the poor staff who’ll undoubtedly have to launder this.
This time, he starts at the inner side of her knee. Armand, lurking in the corner of his vision, grins approvingly. Every kiss brings him closer to her core, his mouth watering and leaving little wet marks behind. Alice’s breath comes out shaky, resisting the urge to pant only by timing her deep breaths. She always did get eager for this, a Pavlovian response to the sensation of soft curls brushing her inner thighs. Before he can lick eagerly into her, though, Armand grabs him by the nape of the neck like an unruly pup. Alice huffs, disappointed.
That disappointment doesn’t last long before Armand is jostling Daniel out of the way with his shoulder. “You understand a woman’s anatomy, correct?” Without waiting for an answer, he continues: “This—“ a finger hovering, Alice squirming, “—is the clitoris.”
“I know that,” Daniel grumbles under his breath. “There are guys who know that, y’know.
Armand levels him with a no-nonsense look that dries up the words on Daniel’s tongue. “Don’t argue with me, boy.”
His dick bobs between his legs, as flushed pink as his cheeks and ears must be. Yeah, no denying how much he likes that. “Sorry.”
Armand’s expression softens minutely. “It’s alright, Danny. You’re still learning, right? You know the components, you just need someone to help you put them together, don’t you?”
Oh, here we go! Daniel nods, enthusiasm overriding his irritation.
Armand smiles knowingly, hands on Alice’s thighs. “Allow me to demonstrate.”
In an instant his tongue is where Daniel’s ought to be by now, licking slowly from Alice’s hole up to her clit. She lets out a trembling sigh, adjusting her hips to make space as his tongue takes another indulgent swipe. Another, another, her breaths growing harsher and noisier as Armand takes his time working her up. He pulls a gasp from her, and then a real moan when that tongue finally wriggles inside of her cunt, fucking her entrance in undulating strokes.
It should piss him off, watching Armand enjoy the taste of Alice while he sits to the side and learns how to eat what he’s been eating for years now. Unfortunately, he looks really, really pretty in profile. Daniel is somewhere between stewing in his inadequacy and dreamily admiring the flex of Armand’s jaw, cheekbones taut when he pulls away just enough to seal a wet, sucking kiss over Alice’s clit and folds. It draws a surprised little squeak from her throat, a noise that makes Armand chuckle fondly before moving in again. This time, he lingers there, suckling and slurping— god, that’s so fucking obscene —at her clit, surprisingly messy and downright pornographic for how precise and clinical his aim was to start. Soon Alice is soaked up her inner thighs and down to her ass, clenching around nothing when Armand pulls away.
“Your turn,” he says, cheery and inviting even with slick shining on his face from nose to chin. He’s tempted, though he’d never admit it out loud, to lick the wetness off Armand’s skin and follow a path to his lips, sucking the taste of Alice off his tongue. He clears the thought with a shiver— he’s not gonna leave Alice hanging here while he gets carried away in fantasy land.
Daniel shuffles as close as Armand’s broad frame allows, heart racing at the prospect of competing with that. Still, he has his tricks.
His first lick, faux-tentative and slow, is directly over her clit. He copies some of Armand’s motions— the suction that drives her crazy, the broad span of his tongue up the center of her cunt —before slipping a finger inside her hot, slick entrance.
That draws a pleased sigh from Alice, sharpening into a moan when he points the very tip of his tongue and teases the space under her hood. She clenches down on the finger knuckle-deep inside her, hips twitching up and bumping his nose in a way that’d hurt if he weren’t so focused. The sight, the smell, the sound, the texture, the taste… everything about a night spent between Alice’s soft thighs is like a dream.
He can feel the movement of Armand’s arm against his shoulder, knowing instantly that he must be stroking his cock through those expensive-looking boxers of his. There’s an illicit, honeyed arousal spreading through Daniel’s veins at the realization, not a new sensation but one made novel by their circumstances: a man, his brother, touching himself to the sight of Daniel with his face buried in his sister’s pussy.
Armand wordlessly crowds into his space, and without hesitation sets to licking her right alongside Daniel. Now it’s a battle, Armand moaning into her like this is the first meal he’s had in a week and Daniel doing his best to match Armand’s skill with his own enthusiasm.
“Oh my god, that’s so hot,” Alice gasps, quiet as though afraid to startle them away from each other. “Fuck, fuck that’s so hot.”
They’re cheek to cheek, tongues swirling and dipping in unison in the filthiest kiss Daniel could have ever imagined. He swears he can taste Armand’s saliva when he laves his tongue through her slit, dampness clinging to the dark hair on her lips. Alice’s thighs are quaking from the stretch and threatening to squeeze shut against the overwhelming pleasure— she’s close, and it won’t take too much more to send her over the edge.
He and Armand work as one, tongues and lips colliding on either side of her clit as Armand’s long, slender finger joins his own. It’s a fucking mess; he knows he’s gonna pull away and look just as wrecked as Alice, maybe even more so with a sheen of wetness covering his face.
“I’m gonna cum,” Alice whimpers, hands sliding into their hair to press them closer together, closer to her. “Oh fuck, oh please let me—“
“Go on,” Armand says, pulling away just enough to coax her through, “show your baby brother what a good job he’s doing.”
When Armand’s lips seal over Daniel’s, a deep, suctioning kiss with Alice’s clit in between, the dam breaks. Alice’s back arches, hips twitching and cunt clenching around their fingers hard enough that it seems almost painful for her. She cries out, perhaps too loud for the hotel room they’re in, but Daniel finds he couldn’t care less. Not when she’s shivering beneath them, the thighs bracketing their heads letting up as she slowly comes down. Armand adapts, too, gentling the work of his lips and tongue into lazy kisses that half slide against Alice and half lick into Daniel’s mouth. He’s sinking deeper into that state of tranquility with every movement, meeting Armand’s kisses with clumsy enthusiasm as little whines slip away through his lips.
When it gets to be too much for her, Alice starts squirming back from them. Daniel allows himself to be pushed off by Alice and Armand’s hands— a student guided by his teachers.
Alice pets through his curls, panting heavily but smiling through her half-lidded exhaustion. “That was so good,” she says, voice shaky. “Good job, Danny. You learn so fast.”
Daniel beams, feeling loose-limbed and warm all over. His brain is fuzzy, thoughts half-catching and then melting away with every stroke of her hands.
“And Armand,” she continues, voice dreamy, “god, that was… wow.”
Armand smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, and kisses her tenderly on the knee. “It’s what brothers are for.”
His words remind Daniel that he is, in fact, still painfully hard and aching. But he’s a good boy. A good boy wouldn’t demand too much.
Alice is the first to notice. “Poor baby,” she coos, legs sliding from the arms of the chair with a wince. “I think he’s more than ready for his next lesson. Maybe one that’ll make him feel good?”
She and Armand share a look that makes Daniel feel like he’s made of jello. “Of course,” he supplies. “He’s learned to use his mouth for a woman. Perhaps it’s time he learns to use his body for a man.”
Just as Daniel breaks through the haze enough to complain that he knows how to use his dick, they’ve established that, he’s interrupted by Alice breaking character. “I fucked him with my fingers earlier today, I can vouch for him being clean!” Her voice is a little too enthused for someone recovering from a dizzying orgasm just in time to offer his ass to their third. “And we’ve got condoms, lube, whatever you need. It’s in his suitcase.”
Armand looks a bit startled, glancing between Alice’s triumphant expression and Daniel’s slow realization of what, exactly, she had just said. “Is that so?”
If Daniel’s face was red before, it’s a fluorescent scarlet now, cheeks a hundred degrees and rising. No use denying it, even if he could find the words to do so. Instead, he drops his shoulders and nods. Fuck it, right? We’re saying “fuck it” tonight.
Armand practically purrs his approval, rubbing his thumb over the shell of Daniel’s ear soothingly. How’d he learn about that? Lucky guess? “What do you think, Danny? Should your big brother hold you down and fuck you?”
He whines wordlessly by way of an answer, letting Armand and a wobbly-legged Alice maneuver him. He ends up on the bed, head in Alice’s lap and a pillow under his ass, by the time the anxiety sets in.
“Is it gonna hurt?” He asks, hands fisted in the sheets on either side of Alice’s crossed legs.
Alice coos warmly, uncurling his hands so she can lace their fingers together. “No, of course not. Armand’s gonna be gentle with you. Right, Armand?”
Armand notably does not answer. Great. Instead, he sets the lube and a condom on the edge of the mattress and just… stands there. Observing? Appraising? There’s an odd look in his eye— as ravenous as before, sure, but darker. Scarier. Daniel’s not sure if it’s because that look is turned on him and solely him, but it freezes him in place. I’m like a deer about to become roadkill, he thinks. It probably shouldn’t make his leaking cock ache to realize that.
Armand drags his boxers, that last barrier of plausible deniability, down his hips slowly and steadily. Daniel’s mouth is dry; he’d always been fairly big himself, impressive enough that he rarely felt outdone when he and Alice picked up a third, but this? This feels like a cosmic joke. Another punchline to the willing emasculation of one Daniel Molloy.
He’s huge.
“That’s not going in me,” Daniel stammers, knees closing up. “It’s not even gonna—“
“It will fit.” Armand coats the fingers of his right hand in lube, making space for himself between Daniel’s legs like his trembling thighs are lighter than air. That alone causes his cock to drool, the area around his navel sticky and cold in the frigid hotel AC. Alice and Armand smirk at each other like the they’re in on a joke Daniel couldn’t possibly comprehend.
“He’s gonna start slow,” Alice murmurs, petting through the curls starting to dampen with a nervous sweat at Daniel’s hairline. “Just fingers, until you can take more.”
As she speaks, a cold, wet finger brushes against his asshole. Daniel’s hips jolt off the bed, only to be pinned back down by one of Armand’s pretty hands.
“We haven’t even gotten started yet, Daniel,” Armand chides. “I didn’t think my brother was such a quitter. Did you, Alice?”
“No,” she replies, biting her lower lip to stifle a laugh at the way Daniel scoffs. “Not at all.”
Well, that simply won’t do. “I’m not a quitter,” he says, voice cracking on a whine. “Do it again, I’m fine. Just do it.”
He does. This time, the finger presses more firmly, circling around Daniel’s rim like he’s trying to coax a certain reaction. Daniel is no stranger to fingering; like Alice said, this is something they’d done often enough for him to know how the prep works. It’s still different, coming from a man.
That’s not to say he’s never done it before. He’s pretty sure there was some guy, back when he was still at Berkeley, who fucked him in his shitty studio apartment when they were both too drunk and high to remember each other’s names. It’s been a while, is all. He’s not scared.
When Armand deems him loose enough, one thick finger slides inside and immediately starts probing around. “How does that feel, sweet boy?”
Sweet boy? He wants to feel offended, he really does, but with an expert crook of his finger Armand finds the spot that wrings a halted grunt from Daniel’s throat. That dazed headspace, chased away by the burst of anxiety, is comfortably clouding his thoughts again.
“Feels weird,” he gasps, brows pinched together.
“Weird good, or weird bad?” Alice’s voice is soothing, grounding, even as Daniel feels like his heart is threatening to burst out of his chest.
“Just weird,” he lies, unable to stop himself from circling his hips into the too-gentle pressure Armand offers. After a while, the silent offer of another finger nudging his rim is accepted with a hesitant nod, and the stretch reignites his sensitive nerves again.
“Don’t tense up on him,” Alice reminds. “Breathe, okay? You can do another.”
He can, as it turns out, far faster than he had anticipated. Three fingers feels like a constant, throbbing pressure. There’s a sting, yes, but more than anything he feels overwhelmed with the fullness in his pelvis. It only seems to magnify the slow morphine drip of arousal warming him from head to toe. He wants more.
“You think you’re ready, don’t you?” Armand plucks the complaint from his lips before it can even form. “You’re naive. Reckless. You always have been, Daniel.”
That cuts through the haze of lust clouding his thoughts just long enough for a noise to leave him clumsily, somewhere between a moan and a question: “Huh?”
Armand’s amber eyes lock onto his, owl-like in their intensity. This feels… intimate, in a way he finds a little difficult to process head-on. “You’re… ever since we were little, we had to tell you to slow down. Isn’t that right?”
Right. The roleplaying thing. The haze settles over him again, sweeping him back under to that state of bliss that makes him feel weightless.
“Yeah,” Alice jumps in. “It was about time we took control of you like this. You thought I wouldn’t notice all your attention on these, you little slut?” His stomach lurches in arousal. She takes Daniel’s hand and cradles it around one of her pretty tits, squeezing it for him and letting out a sigh when he takes the hint. God, she’s always so beautifully sensitive, head thrown back and lips parted as he massages her heavy breast. “But oh, you’re so good when you listen.”
Armand finally deems him ready, pulling his fingers free with an embarrassingly wet sound. Seeing Armand roll the condom down over his cock has him regretting his eagerness, those very fingers that stretched him looking minuscule against his shaft.
The blunt head presses shallowly against his hole, still twitching against its unexpected emptiness. The first press is already difficult; Armand needs to pull back and apply enough lube to squelch lewdly around his cock. The second, an easier glide but no less demanding a stretch, allows the head to pop past Daniel’s twitching rim. He lets out a gasp, muscles locking up despite his attempts to relax. It’s so much already, and Armand only presses slowly, slowly inward.
He bottoms out with a groan, torn involuntarily from an otherwise stoic demeanor. Fuck, the stretch of him. It lights up every nerve in Daniel’s body, pleasure sparking from deep within his core to the tips of his fingers. He doesn’t even realize how hard he’s trembling now until Alice takes his hand again, guides it down to his own stomach where he’s quivering and tense.
“Feel how deep he is, right here?” She asks, pressing down. “You’re taking him so well, baby.”
It’s likely an illusion, something he’s desperate to feel to explain the way his body subtly reshapes to accommodate Armand, but he swears he can feel the shape of his cock. Daniel nods feverishly, lip worried so sharply between his teeth that the taste of iron blooms on his tongue. He wants. He wants. More friction, more touch, more everything. He bucks into the hand Armand caresses his cock with, painfully gentle and too teasing to do much other than work him up. The sound of his palm passing over the head is slick, sticky; he should be embarrassed, he thinks. He probably shouldn’t be doing this at all.
The buzzing of his mind is muffled by his own heartbeat when Armand finally, finally starts to move. Incrementally at first, just a gentle circling of his hips that does little more than make his hole ache. For more? For less? Doesn’t matter— Daniel digs his heel into Armand’s lower back, groaning impatiently.
“Be patient, Danny,” Armand grunts out, working his hips back and forth in small thrusts and using both of his hands to press Daniel’s knees practically to his chest. “You’ll get what you need, but you must have patience. I always take care of my baby brother, don’t I? You wouldn’t want me to hurt you, now, would you?”
Yeah, that fucking gets him. Daniel’s cock practically gushes pre onto his stomach, the head angry red and hot like a brand. The piteous whine he lets out makes Armand slip up, jerking forward a little harder than intended. He lengthens his thrusts in retaliation, a cold, carnivorous look in his eye that only intensifies as his hips begin to smack against Daniel’s bare ass.
The thing is, it does hurt. Armand’s cock is longer than anything Alice has put inside of him, and thicker than anything he’s fit in his mouth back in his hustling days. That’s not to mention the fact that Armand’s picking up enough force and speed to squeak the mattress below them, skin on skin slapping loud and filthy with the excess lube all over Daniel’s ass and his copious amount of precum between their stomachs. Fuck, it burns— which only makes the pleasure that much sweeter, the obedient haze that much heavier.
Armand’s rambling now, voice low as he leans over Daniel’s body to murmur filth in Alice’s ear. “Look at our boy. Our brother. So desperate to please, so eager to be a toy for his big siblings to play rough with. Did he eat you out properly this time? Yes? Exactly, because we taught him that. We taught him everything he knows.”
And then, looking down and directly at Daniel: “We’ve made such a perfect little mess out of the boy, haven’t we?”
Armand hauls him halfway into his lap on the next thrust, practically bouncing Daniel on his cock as he lets out a string of incomprehensible words landing somewhere between gratitude and blissed agony. He’s bent in half, ankles up near Armand’s ears, no room to escape as the man pummels that spot that makes his brain ooze out of his ears.
“Tell me how it feels.”
He’s not sure which one of them demands it of him. His eyes are rolled so far back in his head, it could’ve come from within his own skull for all he knows. All he can feel is the quick in-out rhythm, the tingle of sensitive skin struck repeatedly by another’s heavy thrusts, the ache and pressure of being filled and hollowed out again and again.
“You’re—“ a gulp, a panting breath. Had he been drooling this whole time? “You’re gonna break me in- in half.”
Alice laughs, puppeting his hands again to make him feel the place where he and Armand collide over and over. His rim is sensitive, puffy. Wrecked. “You can take it. You’re gonna see it through. Be a good boy for me and Armand.”
“I can’t,” Daniel gasps, squirming futilely against Armand’s hold. When did his big brother get so strong? Is he gonna keep him here forever? “It’s too big. It’s too… fuck, I can’t do it unless—“
Armand grabs Alice gently but firmly around the wrist, halting her reach. “He cums on my cock alone or not at all.” His voice is labored and rough, thrusts growing sloppy despite the bruising force against Daniel’s ass.
Daniel whimpers, hands flying up to clutch at Armand’s firm pecs— he’s floating, drifting away, needs to be anchored with something solid and real. There’s a familiar, warm feeling curling in Daniel’s belly. His balls ache, drawn up tight with the tensing of his leg muscles. Am I actually gonna…?
“You’re such a good little whore for us, beloved. Doing whatever we want, looking so pretty on my cock, like you were born just for this.” Armand leans down, kisses him, sucks the blood seeping from his split lip, licks tenderly into his mouth like he’s something so delicate and lovable, and Daniel comes hard enough for his vision to white out.
Somewhere in the mind-numbing throes of ecstasy he can feel that Armand’s hips snap no more than ten more times before he stills, hunched over Daniel’s body in a way that feels almost protective. He knows everything was caught in the condom, can feel it there, but he dangerously, irrationally wishes that there were no barriers. That this warmth, this presence both inside and out could stay with him forever. Time slows down for a while after that, everything turning golden and liquid like honey.
He can feel them rearranging him to curl up against Alice’s side, can watch without seeing as Armand sucks Alice’s big, pretty tits, right and then left, as he guides her to roll her hips against his muscled thigh. He blinks, and she’s crying out, locking up hard with Armand driving his fingers into her cunt with the sort of punishing force he used on Daniel. He blinks again, and a washcloth is wiping the splatter of his own cum that made it up to his chin, then trailing down to the mess he made on his stomach.
“Drink some water, honey.” When he regains enough awareness to feel the lip of the glass Alice has pressed to his lips, he drains half of it in large, greedy gulps. She grins, looking tired but deeply satisfied, hair a frizzy mess and a cute flush still staining her cheeks.
Armand turns the bathroom light off behind him when he re-enters the room. “Would anyone like to use the shower first?”
Alice pouts, lips twisted to the side in consideration. “Ugh, I should…but…”
“Just c’mere.” Daniel surprises himself, patting the empty space on the bed opposite Alice. “No extra sheets in this place,” he drawls, perhaps incomprehensibly judging by the mirth in Alice’s expression. “Won’t be clean anyway.”
There’s suddenly a very fragile, very frightened look on Armand’s face; a hint of vulnerability bleeding through the cracks in that composed veneer. It’s gone as quickly as it comes on, whatever emotion it was quickly tidied up and locked away. It hurts to see. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“It’s alright,” Alice encourages. “We don’t bite, do we?”
“Are you sure?” Despite the way Armand busies himself with collecting the clothes scattered around the room, Daniel can hear the tightness in his throat. “I’d hate to overstay my welcome for the rest of your evening.”
Alice levels him with the sort of look that’d make Daniel feel stupid-giddy if turned on him. “C’mon. Armand, sweetie, it’s the middle of the night. You can stay here if you want.”
Armand looks between them for a moment, conflicted and nervous like a stray being shown kindness. There’s a sadness in his eyes that Daniel can’t help but feel guilty for, for whatever reason. He doesn’t want this weird, posh guy to go away. He wants him here, in their bed, still there in the morning. It’s inexplicably devastating to realize in real time that it won’t be happening.
Armand smiles wanly. “You’re very kind to offer, Miss Alice. But I’m afraid I must be going.”
She sighs. Daniel sighs, too. The energy in the room has turned into something dangerously close to sentimental. “Maybe… just for a little while?”
“Doesn’t have to be all night,” Daniel adds, draining the second half of the glass.
“There’s plenty of room, it’s a huge bed.”
It takes Armand a moment, caught uncharacteristically in an awkward position in just his boxers, but that little vulnerable fracture in the veneer caves in. “For a little while.”
—
Sometime in between the witching hours of 3 and 5 in the morning, if Daniel had to guess, a soft voice calls out to him.
Are you asleep?
“M’yeah,” he answers. He hears an affirmative grunt next to him; Alice must’ve noticed he woke up, checked in on him. Was it her? The voice didn’t sound like her, but it’s the only option that’d make sense.
Good. Tomorrow, you will wake and forget about the stranger sharing your bed this evening.
“…forget th’ stranger,” he mumbles, compelled to repeat as though committing it to memory. The sensation of not being alone in his mind sings to him like a word out of place in an interviewee’s story, sticking out just enough for him to gnaw at the edge until it gives way. He knows this voice, knows this to be a capital-S Someone, but under the heavy blanket of sleep he can’t summon the strength to identify it.
You will forget the name Armand— what name? —and forget the time you spent with him.
“…time I spent with him.” This time, it’s him and Alice speaking together.
When you wake, you will recall an unidentifiable stranger who showed you a good time, and you will not think anything of it. Another guest in a long line of people whose names and faces and bodies you simply cannot remember.
Daniel feels a panic rising in him, one he can’t express. It’s stuck in his throat, too grand and too world-shaking to truly feel.
When I see you next, we will be in Shanghai.
“Shanghai.” A knot in his stomach releases. Shanghai. You always wanted to go to Shanghai, didn’t you, Boss?
“Rest.”
In the morning, he and Alice will argue again. It’ll be brutal— they each will say things to the other that they never thought they’d dare to say in the claustrophobic privacy of their car. They will forget the stranger, forget what they did, only remembering a soreness in their muscles and a tiredness in their bones that could just as easily be an uneven hotel mattress as it is a good tumble in the sheets. They will both feel lost, adrift, longing for something unnameable and rare. Daniel will sheepishly raise the question of chasing a story to Shanghai, just for a week, and Alice will accept it for the white flag it is.
But that is not now. For now, Daniel relaxes back into a dreamless sleep, comforted by the soft press of a kiss to his forehead, and the word soon left unspoken on his tongue.