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It’s a bad idea for Jamie to ask Roy more about Lust Conquers All, but Jamie’s great at bad ideas. Can hardly help himself once one takes hold. And he can feel the questions building up inside him, struggling to get out. It’s a wonder he manages to keep them in for a full twenty-four hours after finding out that Roy watched him.
Roy watched him and then went home to Keeley. Jamie wants to know about that.
“Did you two really fuck after watching me on the telly?” he asks. He’s one drink in, but with them looking at him like that, it feels like more.
“Did we ever,” Keeley says. She nudges his shoulder with hers.
“Aren’t we watching a film?” Roy says from his other side.
Roy sounds like a grumpy old fuck still, but they’re on the sofa in their hotel suite and he’s all pressed into Jamie, hip to hip, squashed together like there’s no more room, except there is room, it’s a big sofa, one of those L-shaped ones, and besides that, Roy’s got his arm around Jamie’s shoulders. He’s even got two fingers tucked inside the collar of Jamie’s shirt, like it wasn’t enough to lay his hand over the fabric—he needed to touch skin. So Roy can sound however he likes. Jamie knows what’s real.
They haven’t even started watching anything, so it’s not like Jamie’s interrupting. He says, “Rather hear the story.”
Roy grunts.
Keeley says, “I don’t think either of us comes off all that brilliant.”
“Don’t need to hear about brilliance as long as I hear about coming,” Jamie says. “Besides, it’s a story about the time I quit football to shag strangers on the telly. Can’t possibly be more embarrassing than that.”
Keeley says, “Er.”
Roy tips his head back, stares at the ceiling, and says, “Fuck.”
“Now I definitely want to hear it,” Jamie says.
Keeley says, “Roy?”
“You tell it,” he says.
“Oh, you’re gonna make me do it?”
Roy gives her a piercing stare. It’s weirdly hot to be in the middle of them bickering. Jamie likes this story already.
“Yeah,” Roy says after a long, powerful silence. “I want your version of events.”
“Fine. Jamie, the first thing you need to know is that I also watched you on Lust Conquers All. I didn’t tell Roy. He was out with his yoga mums, and I finally had a little alone time, and it wasn’t his business what I was doing, was it? And I thought he’d get stroppy if he knew.”
Roy grunts. “Fair.”
“Roy needed his girl talk after yoga, and I needed to relax in bed with my laptop—”
“Bed?” Jamie interrupts. “Not the sofa in front of the telly?”
“Bed,” Keeley confirms.
“Alone time. In bed. While watching me.”
“Don’t sound so fucking smug about it,” Roy says.
“Roy, babe, we’ve barely even begun to touch the things Jamie could be smug about in this story,” Keeley says. “Anyway, there I am in bed with my laptop, which just happens to be playing Lust Conquers All, which just happens to show Jamie on screen sometimes. That’s not a crime.”
Jamie feels the low vibration of Roy’s growl before he hears it. He laughs. “You made her tell it, mate.”
“Get on with it,” Roy says like they’re torturing him.
Jamie rubs his thigh supportively.
Keeley continues, “If Roy ever caught me, I was going to say I was worried about you, which was true. You couldn’t be happy, leaving Man City so suddenly like that. Sure, there you were, smiling and flirting and shagging everyone’s brains out, but I knew you were sad. You missed football. You and Roy are just alike, you know? I’ve spent years around footballers and the two of you were just meant to play. And Roy was so heartbroken over the end of his career, and you should’ve had years ahead of you, so for you to quit, I knew something must be really wrong.”
“Oh,” Jamie says. She’s right. He just didn’t expect this story to make him sad.
Roy squeezes his hand.
Keeley says, “And maybe I also sort of… missed you a little bit. Or a lot. It ended badly between us, and I love Roy, but I never really stopped loving you, Jamie. You were always so much fun. Sweet, happy, very eager to please. I knew you could’ve been extraordinary with a little growing up. I was right about that, by the way.”
She kisses his cheek and he beams.
“And those other women weren’t fucking you right,” Keeley says.
“Oi,” Jamie says. “I did right by them.”
“You did, babe, but they didn’t do right by you. I know you had plenty of orgasms, but no one even pulled your hair. How could anyone shag you and not pull your hair?” She winds her fingers through it and gives a little tug. “And no one ever told you how good you were, and I knew you were dying for it.”
Jamie blushes.
“If I’m honest, I was dying for it, too,” Keeley says. “I knew Roy would let me, the same way he always does exactly what I ask, but it doesn’t light him up inside. Roy and I were having excellent, passionate, orgasmic sex, but I didn’t know how to communicate what I needed. That’s… sort of a recurring theme.”
“This story has themes?” Jamie says, horrified. “I just wanted a wank.”
Roy’s laugh is almost silent, but Jamie can feel it. That makes him all warm.
So does Roy standing up, offering him a hand, and saying, “We can do better than a wank.”
“Ooh, historical reenactment,” Keeley says.
“Never thought that sounded sexy before,” says Jamie.
Roy leads him by the hand to Keeley’s bedroom, where the sheets are still wrecked from yesterday’s marathon. Keeley follows. She selects a toy from the nightstand drawer, then crosses the room while dropping all her clothes on the floor like there’s nothing special to see underneath them, even though both Roy and Jamie are staring. God, she’s fucking fit.
She arranges herself in an armchair in the corner, fully naked, and gestures with the sex toy for them to carry on.
Standing by the bed with Jamie, Roy says, “You’ve got to keep telling the story.”
“So the episode ends, and I get out a vibrator, but then my phone buzzes. It’s Roy asking to come over. I say yes. I put away the toy and the laptop and then hear him unlock the door.”
“Finally,” Jamie says.
***
Roy meets her at the top of the stairs, hauls her into a kiss, and walks her backward to the bed with his tongue still down her throat. Whatever he was doing with the yoga mums has got him in a state. His cock is a stiff, hot brand against her belly.
Roy cups her arse with both hands and she hums into his mouth. He always handles her with such incredible confidence. It’s so sexy.
He slides a finger between her legs and pauses in silence. Alright, so her knickers are soaking wet. A woman’s allowed a wank in her own home whenever she wants.
“Fuck,” Roy growls. He yanks her knickers halfway down her thighs, trapping her, and then bends her over the bed. Shoves her, really. Keeps his hand spread between her shoulders and pins her there.
They’ve never done anything like this before. Never even talked about it.
He sinks two fingers into her cunt and it runs through both of them like an electric shock. Keeley shivers. Roy grunts. He slides in and out, and God, she can hear how wet she is.
***
“Fuck me,” Jamie whispers. “Took your time getting to the good part and then just—fuck.”
Roy’s got him bent over the bed, half-dressed just like Keeley in the story, but he had to go round the bed to get the lube. He comes back, leans over Jamie to kiss his neck, and says, “Can I finger you?”
“Yeah,” Jamie says emphatically. “Got to catch up, don’t we?”
Roy huffs and says, “Keeley. Don’t leave us there.”
“Pace yourselves,” she says. “This is a long story.”
***
“Fuck me,” Keeley demands, shoving her hips back.
“Dying for it, are you?” he says—almost sneers—and Keeley thrills to hear it. This isn’t the role she prefers to play, but tonight, she can be what Roy needs.
“God, yes, please, I need it,” she says. “Fuck me, Roy.”
He thrusts into her hard and fast, not nearly as careful and sweet as he usually is, and then he leans so his lips are next to her ear. “Tell me again how much you want my cock.”
She hesitates, not from any objection, but because she’s wondering whether asking him to pull her hair would break the spell. If they’re going to do this, they should do it right. Her silence provokes him, and he wraps her hair around his fist and tugs her head back.
“Beg me for it,” he says, and Keeley does.
And if she’s thinking about how Jamie would respond to this, the shoving and the pinning and the hair pulling and the low, rough, mean edge in Roy’s voice, thinking about how beautifully Jamie would babble and whine, thinking about all the little hitches in his breath and how desperately he used to press back against her when she used her strap, well, first of all, she can’t give an inspired performance without inspiration, and second, no one can prove it.
She’s not the only one giving an inspired performance. Roy is fucking her like his life depends on it. His body slaps heavily against hers. Her knickers dig into her thighs, keeping her trapped and helpless. Each thrust shoves her forward, and then Roy drags her back. Every other time, she thinks, every other time they fucked, he was holding himself back, not using his full power, trying to make it good for her. He always did, and that kind of control is very sexy—but so is the loss of it. She’s gone from soaking to drenched. She’s shaking. The bed is shaking. The whole fucking house is probably shaking.
“Fuck, you take it so well, you little—” Roy says, and Keeley doesn’t find out what he was going to call her, because an orgasm crashes over both of them at the same time. It’s a violent, gorgeous explosion of one, and it leaves her breathless and boneless on the bed.
Roy pulls out, and she stands. He’s fully dressed. She realizes with a start that he never really undressed. She inches her ruined knickers up her legs, lifts up to give him a kiss, and then goes to clean up.
When she comes back, he’s gone.
***
“You knobhead,” Jamie says, outraged. “You fucking left?”
“Did you or did you not just come your fucking brains out all over the bed?” Roy demands.
“Well, yeah, obviously,” Jamie says, and he means to sound irritated, but it comes out a little dreamy. Roy is really fucking good at sex. Like, amazing. And with Keeley talking the whole time—talking about how both of them were madly horny about him—fuck, that was good. Jamie lies there with his cheek smashed into the mattress and sighs. His pants are still halfway down his thighs. He’s all sticky and gross and can’t be bothered to care.
Roy’s still inside him, anyway, because somehow he didn’t come yet.
“You’re not supposed to just leave afterward,” Jamie says. “’S not right, Roy.”
“Story’s not over yet,” Roy says.
He starts to thrust again, slow and gentle, and Jamie’s not even hard, but it feels nice, doesn’t it, and he wants Roy to come. Wants to hear Keeley, too. She’s not even using the toy right now, just sitting in her chair watching them.
“This… might be too much story for one night,” Keeley says.
“Keep going,” Jamie says.
***
Roy doesn’t answer her calls until after they’re both at work the next day, so she opens with “What the fuck, Roy,” instead of “Good morning.”
“Mm,” he says.
She says, “My office, right now,” and hangs up.
He comes, thank God. He shuts the door, miserable. “Sorry,” he says, in a quiet, ashamed voice. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“You shouldn’t have left,” Keeley corrects. “Don’t apologize for the rest. I loved it.”
Keeley’s annoyed with him, but it’s difficult to stay annoyed with him when he’s got such a puzzled, uncertain look on his face.
“Something came over me,” he says. “I don’t want you to think I’m… like that. A fucking animal or something. That’s not how I want to treat you.”
Keeley can’t have this conversation from behind her desk. Roy hasn’t even sat down. She takes his hands. “You’ve never done that before, then?”
“Fuck no. And I won’t ever do it again.”
“Roy, I liked it,” she says, enunciating very clearly. “And I think you liked it too, yeah?”
After a long, pained silence, he gives a little nod.
“Good,” she says. “Then there’s no problem.”
Except for Jamie, of course, but they’re not talking about Jamie.
“Sometimes sex is like playing a game, and while we’re playing, we can pretend to be cruel or helpless or anything we like, just for fun, and then afterward, when it’s over, we kiss and cuddle and it’s all alright,” she says.
“Fuck,” Roy says. “I fucked up the afterward.”
“You fucked up the afterward,” Keeley agrees.
“Sorry, Keeley, I was just so—” Roy can’t look at her. After a moment, staring at some point behind her shoulder, he mutters, “I felt like shit.”
“About being slightly less gentle than normal? I can take a lot more than that, Roy, I’m not made of glass. You did notice how wet I was, yeah?”
She’s never seen the tips of Roy’s ears turn red, and talking about sex doesn’t usually bother him, but apparently bringing up vaginal lubrication at work is too much for him. He grunts.
Keeley says, “If you want, we can try again. I don’t want it to be like that all the time—”
“Me either.”
“But it was really fucking good, Roy, and if you need that sometimes, I can give it to you. I want to. You can love and respect a woman and still rail her and call her a good little slut,” she says, and that makes his ears go even redder. Keeley can’t tell if she guessed right about what he was going to call her. She decides to take one last risk. “And if you ever want to be the one getting railed, we can do that too.”
Roy coughs and says, “I—work. Got to go back to work.”
He scarpers. Keeley sighs and goes back to work herself.
***
“You nervous about getting fucked, Roy?” Jamie asks.
“No,” Roy says. “I was nervous because I felt like a cheating arsehole, and I couldn’t figure out why.”
“You were really messed up over me,” Jamie says. Even after hearing about it in very sexy detail, he still can’t believe it. “Shame you didn’t just say so.”
“I didn’t fucking know so,” Roy says, aggrieved. “Maybe I was starting to suspect, but—” He gives up, groans, and channels his frustration into his hips.
Warm all over, and maybe a little bit hazy and floaty, Jamie smiles into the mattress and murmurs, “Taking a cock up the arse is great, by the way.”
“Are you fucking hard again already, you horny little muppet?”
“Er, mate, you’re fucking me, and Keeley’s sat there naked telling a story about how you two tore each other’s clothes off because of me, so… yeah?”
Roy huffs. “Let’s hear the rest, Keeley.”
***
Over the next six days, Keeley and Roy have sweet, enthusiastic, athletic, thoroughly orgasmic sex, and Roy tells her she’s fucking beautiful and feels amazing and does not shove or pull any part of her, and Keeley thinks that’s the end of it.
Roy goes off to see his yoga mums. She lies in bed with her laptop and worries about Jamie, in a genuine-concern way and in a secret, horny way that she tries very hard not to think about. Medium-hard, at least. She can’t control her thoughts, can she, and Jamie’s always naked and he looks well fit.
Roy asks to come over, and she says yes.
He takes her against the wall. From behind. It’s fucking brilliant, and she finds herself thinking Jamie would love this, and then feels crestfallen that she can’t tell either Roy or Jamie that particular truth.
They cuddle and kiss afterward, and Roy doesn’t apologize, and she convinces him to stay the night. It’s almost perfect.
It happens again exactly a week later. Over the back of the sofa. From behind. Again. And again Roy nearly calls her a name.
Finally Keeley says, “Not that I mind, babe, but what are you doing at yoga that gets you like this?”
Roy grumbles wordlessly. He’s lying on top of her, his head pillowed on her tits, but he’s not asleep yet, and Keeley’s not letting him get away with trying to pretend he is.
“Is it, like, sexy yoga? Or maybe it’s the rosé that gets you going? Or talking about divorce?”
Roy groans and squeezes his eyes shut. “Fuck. We fucking—they watch Lust Conquers All, alright? And I can’t sit through a whole program of people fucking and not want to come to yours afterward.”
Holy fucking shit. With a wide-eyed innocence she doesn’t feel, Keeley says, “Isn’t Jamie on Lust Conquers All?”
“Fuck off. You know he is,” Roy says.
She hums, laughing. “I do. How do you feel about that?”
“I fucking hate that little prick.”
Ah. That’s what he was going to call her.
***
“Oh my God,” Jamie says.
“Fuck off,” Roy says, more or less affectionately.
“Not you,” Jamie clarifies. “Keeley, why didn’t you tell him?”
“That he wanted to fuck you?” she asks. “Bit delicate, that.”
“No,” Jamie says. “Why didn’t you tell him you were watching me on the telly?”
“Same answer, really,” she says. “I worried it might ruin things. I thought about it, though. Or mostly I thought about whether Roy would like it if I pretended to be you—more obviously than I already was. I was sure, by then, that it was about you—you know, the electrifying new erotic dynamic between us that coincided with your sexy misadventures on the telly every week. But I couldn’t tell if Roy knew that and didn’t want to talk about it, or if Roy genuinely didn’t have any idea that he wanted to fuck you. I… might have been the tiniest bit obsessed with how good the two of you could be together. I knew I needed to stop thinking about it, but I couldn’t.”
Jamie says, “I never stop thinking about it, either, so that’s fair.”
Roy grunts his agreement, both Jamie and Keeley laugh.
“Makes three of us,” Jamie says.
“Roy,” Keeley says. “You know what happens next. Ready, babe?”
“Jamie, I’m not going to reenact this part,” Roy says, all mysterious like.
It must be really embarrassing or awful or something. Jamie only says, “But you’ll keep fucking me, right? You haven’t come yet.”
“Yeah,” Roy says. “I’ll keep fucking you.”
The slow pace he’s been setting barely deserves to be called fucking, but Jamie’s too clever to say so. Roy’s obviously saving himself for something.
Keeley says, “The thing is, this is kind of the story of me and Roy making mistakes.”
“But, like, in a sexy way,” Jamie says.
“Yeah,” Keeley says like she’s got doubts. “It doesn’t really have a happy ending, though.”
“The fuck do you think this is?” Roy asks, gesturing at himself and Jamie and Keeley. “Is this not enough for you?”
“Oh, no, it absolutely is. I just meant, in the story—”
“We’ll live,” Roy says impatiently. “Tell him the rest.”
***
Keeley has to pretend not to see it when sparks fly between Roy and Jamie at the club. She only intervenes when Jamie asks for help, and even then, she feels strange about it, guilty and giddy. She knows too much about both of them.
For example, on the day she tells Jamie to agree with everything Roy says, she knows Roy is going to come home in a mood.
She left work early and he stayed a little late, caught in an impromptu meeting with the other coaches. He was probably vibrating the whole way through it. When Keeley lets him in, he grabs her by the shoulders and hauls her into a kiss.
“I know I said I was going to cook tonight,” he starts, the words coming out in a rush, “but first can we—could we—”
Keeley should wait him out. Make him say it. Make Roy use his words. But she’s vibrating, too, and she can’t help but fill in the blank. “Do that thing where you bend me over and use all your pent-up aggression or whatever to fuck me into next week?”
“Fuck,” Roy says, like she’s punched him. “Yeah. That.”
“Hmm,” Keeley says, giving her head a thoughtful little tilt. “You gonna be nice to me?”
“I—”
The sheer panic on his face is kind of sweet, really. She takes pity on him, smiles, and gives a little shake of her head. He looks enormously relieved.
Keeley grabs a fistful of his shirt and yanks him down for a kiss. With her other hand, she reaches between his legs and gives him a rude grope. He’s hard already, was probably hard before he got here, and a more jealous woman might be upset that her boyfriend spent all day turned on because of her ex. Keeley is not that woman.
Roy grabs one of her wrists, then the other. He spins her so they’re pinned behind her back. They march to the sofa. He forces her down.
She’s so wet she’s soaked through her knickers. It might be obvious through her clothes, which are… not hers, exactly.
It’s like this: Roy and Jamie want each other and are both being thick in the head in their own particular way. Keeley’s not bothered by the wanting. She’s a little tired of them being so slow about it, but that’s not within her power to fix. Even if that “ugly, ugly boy” exchange of theirs at the club earlier made both of them finally get it, like an instant ayahuasca vision but for kinky queer sex, she’d never have been able to make it work today. Roy’s her boyfriend, Jamie’s her ex, they don’t know how very, very interested she is, and neither of them trusts easily; it would take some arranging. Keeley is good at planning, but no one is that good.
She did, however, leave work a little early to change into some old clothes that Jamie forgot at her house.
That’s a lie; Jamie didn’t forget them. He’s a bit scattered, but not about his clothes. When they were together, Keeley sort of… commandeered them. Is that the word? Like when you seize control of a ship or something. She just took the ones she liked best and wore them around. Not outside, of course. They don’t suit her style at all. But they’re very comfortable, the pockets are deep, and Jamie let her have them, the same way he used to let her have him. They’re delicious reminders of his surrender.
***
“You wore my clothes?” Jamie says. He doesn’t mean to interrupt, but he’s so flattered. “It were that light blue tracksuit, I bet.”
“Yeah,” Keeley says.
Roy has stopped moving. He’s even more surprised than Jamie. “I am… learning some things.”
“Dead naughty of you, Keels,” Jamie says.
She laughs, and so does Roy.
***
So, yeah, basically these clothes are stolen and Keeley’s using them for some kind of complex sexual identity theft. She would be sorry about her crimes, but Roy shoved her over the sofa and is dragging that elastic waistband down her thighs. He leaves her like that, mostly dressed and a little bit helpless, and she squirms against the sofa, seeking friction.
“You in a hurry?” Roy presses a hand in between her thighs and grunts when he finds her knickers drenched. “You are. You been thinking about this?”
“Fuck me already, old man.”
He grabs her hoodie and yanks the hood until she feels the collar cut into her neck. “Ask nicely.”
She doesn’t really spit—it’s her sofa, with all her lovely fluffy pillows—but it’s a near thing. “Make me.”
He swats her bottom. It only stings a little. Nothing compared to the soaring triumph she feels for having arrived here. God, but Jamie would love this. Has probably wanked about it.
“That all you got?” she asks.
He rips her knickers off. Fuck, that’s hot. He slaps her again, his hand on bare skin this time. It’s loud. The pain vanishes quickly. Keeley’s eager for Roy’s cock, but the real Jamie wouldn’t give up and beg after two little smacks, and she’s betting the Jamie in Roy’s imagination would be a lot more of a prick.
And poor Roy spent all day tied up in horny knots about Jamie’s submission, either not knowing why or unwilling to admit it. The least Keeley can do is provide him some relief.
She wriggles her hips at him. “Think I might have felt something, but I can’t be sure.”
He spanks her so hard she gasps.
He does it again, and again, in a maddening rhythm that never lets her brace or catch her breath. She can’t think through what Jamie would do, how well he’d take it, whether he’d talk back or make pitiful little noises. Either way he’d be wildly turned on, his cock trapped against the sofa and leaking all over him. Keeley can relate.
The blows land unpredictably. On the right, at the very top of her thigh just under the curve of her arse, and then again on the roundest part, leaving her quivering. She whimpers. Left. Left. Left. Right again.
Her world narrows until there is only his hand and the absence of his hand. She dreads it, wants it, misses it when it’s not there. Her face is mashed into the sofa. Her eyes are wet, maybe. Her cunt’s even wetter. Only the hot slap of his palm really matters. The stinging stays longer, turns into heat, into pain. She howls. Wordlessly at first, and then his name.
“Roy. Roy, please.”
He pauses. She can’t see his hand, but she imagines it hovering in the air, ready. “Please what?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll be good,” she says. “Please fuck me.”
He kneads her poor, throbbing arse and she yelps. He spreads her cheeks and shoves two fingers into her cunt. Or he tries, anyway. She’s so wet they skate right in. She squirms and clenches down on without meaning to, like maybe she can get what she wants just from that. Like maybe she can keep his hand right there.
He withdraws his fingers, leaving her cold. “Greedy. Ask me again.”
“Please fuck me, Roy, I need it. I need your cock. I’ll be so good for you. I’ll do anything you want.” She peppers in a few more pleases. Her breathless desperation is genuine. “Please, Roy.”
That does it. He hauls her hips up and fucks deep into her. The sound it makes is filthier than any of the swearing either of them do. He sets up a ruthless, marvelous pace. Forceful, but just slow enough to keep her dying for more. Every time his hips brush her stinging bottom, she whines.
He keeps one hand on her hipbone and clamps the other at the join of her neck and shoulder. His grip is heavy and hot even through her clothes. The touch zings through her. How is he so steady? She shivers and he stills her.
He pulls all the way out. The big, blunt head of his cock pushes into her and it shouldn’t be possible to feel every ridge, but fuck, she swears she can. Incoherent with bliss, she moans.
“What’s that?” he asks sharply. His fingers dig into her shoulder and her hip, and he slows down, waiting for a response.
She dredges up words. “Don’t stop.”
“Don’t stop what?”
“Don’t stop fucking me,” she says between gasps.
“Don’t stop fucking me…”
“Please,” she says. “Please, Roy, please don’t stop fucking me. You feel so good. I need it.”
“Good,” he says, satisfied, and thrusts hard enough to shove her whole body forward. He drags her back and does it again.
“Yes,” she cries. “Yes, yes, yes, please, Roy.”
“You come when I tell you to, and not before,” he growls. “Come too soon and I’ll fucking spank you again. You don’t want that. You want to be good for me, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she says again, clawing at the sofa to make it true. He slides in and out with scorching control. She feels hot all over, primed to explode. Instead of coming, she squeezes her eyes shut and channels everything into her voice. She moans his name and yes and please and fuck, fuck, fuck. She pants and keens.
He takes his time. Deliciously. Agonizingly. He also talks.
“Fuck, you take it so well.” His voice is a low, sandpaper rasp. “Look at you, begging for it like the good little slut you are. I knew you could be good for me. I fucking knew it. Don’t you want this, Ja—”
***
“Jamie,” Roy says, finishing what Keeley didn’t, like he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. Like he needed to say it out loud and in full. He groans and says again, “Jamie.”
Roy said he wasn’t going to play along with the story for this part, and it’s true he hasn’t been spanking Jamie, but he’s fucking exactly like Keeley described—deep, hard, whatever other words she used that Jamie can’t remember right now, ‘cause of Roy’s cock in his arse. It’s good, so good Jamie’s going to come a second time, but when he sees Keeley all alone in that armchair, paused in her storytelling to watch them with her mouth half-open, somehow looking daft and really fucking sexy at the same time, he can’t stand it.
“Come over here and let me eat you out,” he says, using his best puppy eyes.
“Good lad,” says Roy, and Jamie is so warm all over that he shouldn’t be able to get any warmer, but there he goes anyway.
Keeley’s quick to spread her legs for him, and he can tell how much she’s enjoyed riling them up with the story. She’s drenched. Takes hardly any work at all to make her come, which is good and bad, because Jamie would be happy to spend a lot of time between Roy and Keeley.
But still it’s dead nice to hear her gasp, “Oh my God, Jamie, fuck.” And she pulls his hair, because of course she does.
It’s a good thing Roy says “I want you to come for me” right then because Jamie’s fucking done for. So is Roy. His rhythm slips, and stops, and he comes loud and hard for a long time. It’s fucking gorgeous. Jamie just lies there afterward, all quiet and soft, and hopes he gets to have this for as long as he lives.
They take their time shuffling through the shower and back into bed, though it’s not so much back into bed as into a different bed entirely—Jamie’s, which is only messed up from sleep and not from sex. Keeley sits next to him and braids her wet hair, and Roy lies on his other side.
“D’you really say my name while fucking Keeley?” Jamie asks.
“Yeah,” Roy says. “Half your name, anyway. Wasn’t sure until just now if she heard it.”
“Oh, I heard it, babe.”
“I know that now. You and your secret fucking roleplay.”
“Sorry,” Keeley says.
“The sex was fucking brilliant,” Roy says. “It was just the rest of it that was awkward.”
“What happened afterward?” Jamie asks.
“What do you want to know that for? It’s not sexy,” Keeley says.
“Maybe you were just fucked in the head and not actually fucking, but it’s still a story about the three fittest people in the world,” Jamie says.
“You weren’t there,” Roy says.
“Er, yeah I was, mate. I’m the main character,” Jamie says. “But thanks for calling me fit.”
Roy grunts.
“Walked right into that one, Roy, babe,” Keeley says. “Why don’t you tell the end?”
***
Roy lets slip that one syllable—the worst possible syllable—and it’s like a bomb going off.
Jamie. Fuck. Roy wants to fuck Jamie fucking Tartt.
How did he not see it? It’s obvious now.
God, he’s fucking dense.
Keeley shouts “Yes,” like she’s covering up whatever Roy just said, or maybe she didn’t hear it, maybe she didn’t notice how he froze for a split second, or how his hands spasmed. Maybe she’s too far gone. That would be a fucking relief. She begs with loud, frantic enthusiasm, and he’s still into it enough to come, and to tell her to come, but once that’s over, he’s fucked.
Doesn’t know what to say or what to do with his face or his hands or the rest of his useless fucking body, which feels so slow it’s stuck. He just said the name of someone he hates—has hated for years—while fucking his beautiful, beloved girlfriend.
She let him spank her.
Fuck. He wants to spank Jamie. Worse, he wants to say things to Jamie like I knew you could be good for me. That doesn’t sound like something you say to a person you hate, and it has the awful ring of truth.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Keeley, who doesn’t deserve to be emotionally cheated on like this, drags her joggers up. She winces a little, and waddles two steps to the sofa, and Roy feels like a fucking arsehole. She was magnificent. He should be… kissing her or something.
Instead he’s having a breakdown because his whole fucking world just flipped upside down, and probably he should tell her the truth, but it’s so fucking embarrassing he’d rather be shot.
He doesn’t care that Jamie’s a man. Roy’s fucked a man before. The problem is that Jamie is Jamie.
And also that Roy is Roy, and he never knows how he feels until it blows up in his face.
Keeley sits down in a sort of squirmy way and pulls him next to her. He doesn’t know what else to do, so he goes. She rubs his back. He can’t look at her.
She kisses his cheek. “Join me in the shower? Just a quick one, then you can show me what you’re cooking.”
By some fucking miracle, he remembers and pronounces the words, “Salmon chraimeh.”
“I don’t know what that is, but I’m sure it’s amazing, babe,” she says. She stands, takes his hand, and guides him up. “Let’s get cleaned up and into the kitchen. I’m not going to help, but I will drink a glass of wine nearby and look adorable.”
He huffs. Can’t manage more than that.
It seems to cheer her up, though. He’s supposed to be taking care of her. She’s the one who got spanked. He owes her a better effort.
“We had it before. It’s Sephardic. You braise the fish in tomato sauce,” he says. “Well, not you. Me.”
He tilts his head at her, and she laughs and says, “And I love you for it.”
“I love you too, babe,” he says, and if it’s a little strained, she doesn’t react.
Maybe they can do this, he thinks. Just pretend it never happened and go on like normal for a while. He can watch some gay porn and calm down about Jamie, and Keeley’s feelings won’t be hurt, and Roy won’t ever have to say any of this stupid shit out loud, and everything will be fine.
***
“God, that’s embarrassing,” Roy says as he finishes. “Worse than the embarrassment of realizing I didn’t hate you, even. That I figured it out more than a year ago and still did everything fucking wrong.”
“There’s plenty of blame to go round.” Keeley is covering her face with her hands. “I shouldn’t have done any of that. If we had just talked—”
“We could’ve had this so much sooner,” Roy says.
“Nah,” Jamie says. Maybe it’s easy to feel relaxed when he’s well fucked and cuddled between the two of them, or maybe he’s just fucking great at this shit. “Had to happen the way it happened. And now I get all the credit forever.”
Keeley laughs and drops a kiss on his temple.
“Ugh,” Roy says, but he’s got his ear pressed to Jamie’s heart and his arm slung tight around him, so Jamie just smiles and gives him a pat.