Work Text:
When Dorian arrived home, Fearne’s sitting room was covered in rope.
The reality of having lived with Fearne for four months now was that Dorian was actually more surprised there wasn’t anyone tied up in any of the rope. It turned out, rather, Opal had been using Fearne’s superior-sized washer and dryer to launder her whole rope kit at once, and was now checking over all the lengths of neon-pink cord for any defects that might mean that piece needed to be split or retired.
“Lovely weather we’re having,” said Dorian, who was absolutely soaked. It was the rainy season in Marquet, and the edges of Jrusar’s spires were guttering such enormous gouts of water, Dorian worried someone smaller than he might get swept off the side by the current. He supposed this was why they had such large guard rails.
“Dorian!” Opal greeted him. “Oh, don’t worry, you can step on the rope, that’s fine.”
“My feet are kind of wet, still, though,” he said, delicately stepping over it to get to the front bathroom, and a towel.
Fearne rounded the door into the bathroom while Dorian was wringing out his hair, and leaned on the doorframe, pinning him with an alluring grin. “Doriaaaan,” she sang.
“I haven't thought about it,” Dorian said.
“Don’t lie to me.”
He corrected himself. “I haven’t arrived at a conclusion.”
“Well, get yourself there! The party’s in a week, and I need to plan my outfit.”
“I don’t see what my presence has to do with your outfit,” Dorian said, his hair swaying in weak, soft tendrils like he was underwater.
“Because I wanna match, duh.”
“Well, I don’t even know what in my wardrobe would work for such an occasion,” Dorian said.
Opal appeared beside Fearne, her head just barely peeking in, because Fearne on her own was already too much for most doorways to handle. "If Dorian's coming, I'm planning his outfit!"
“Only if it actually covers my ass,” Dorian said, braiding his hair down the center of his scalp. “I’ve seen what you wear to the club, and it’s very cute, but I am not parading around in a thong.”
“We’ll coordinate,” Opal said to Fearne.
“We’ll coordinate,” Fearne agreed.
Dorian was absolutely going to end up in something slutty.
— — —
Having a personal trainer in the friend group meant that nobody really cared if you stretched gym membership policies to their limit. Fearne got put on Will and Orym’s family membership even though she was by no means related to them, and she was then allowed to pass it on to Dorian during the winter, when the seasonal instructor who did pole dancing classes was out of the city, and there was nothing else Fearne wanted with a gym membership.
Which was good, because the downpour was still torrential, and Dorian didn’t care to go for a run in all that. A treadmill was boring, sure, but at least he wasn’t being rained on.
Dorian jolted and had to catch himself when Will leaned over the front of his machine, grinning at him. His music had been too loud for him to hear Will approaching.
“What?” Dorian asked, stopping the treadmill and pulling his headphones down, letting them rest around his neck. “Why are you bothering clients during their workouts?”
“Har har.” Will folded his arms. He wore those sleeveless compression tops with the gym logo to work every day, and of course, his arms always looked fantastic. Dorian heard he was currently at three middle aged female clients who ‘joked’ that they’d leave their husbands for him. Will wasn’t in the habit of telling his clients his own marriage was nonmonogamous. They just did that. “Orym tells me we might see you on Folsen.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Dorian said, taking a drink from his water bottle. “I still feel… awkward about it.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s up to you, but everybody’d be happy to have you.”
“Orym said, yeah.”
When Dorian asked Orym for his honest opinion, what he’d actually said was, ‘we’d all love for you to come, and we’ll do our best to make sure you’re taken care of and you have a good time. But it can definitely be a lot, and you’ll… probably feel a little awkward at first. It’s up to you.’
“Did he also say we can plan stuff ahead of time if it’d make you more comfortable?”
“He did,” said Dorian, who would absolutely not be more comfortable just texting the group chat about when and how someone was going to publicly tie him up, or hit him with something, or do something even more salacious. “I’d rather… I think it’s gonna be more spontaneous than that?”
“Sure, we’re good with that too. Anything you want.” Will’s sunny smile leaned suggestive. “Anything.”
“Surely not anything,” Dorian teased.
“Dorian, just say the word, and we will absolutely slam you like a screen door in, well,” He gestured out the window at the trees bowing under the wind and rain, “a hurricane.”
“Don’t speak for your husband like that,” Dorian said.
“Why not? He has literally said that before. Dorian. Dorian. I will actually get on my knees in the locker room—“
“At work!?” Dorian said, at a volume that was altogether too much for the gym.
“Anywhere, baby.” He was really laying it on thick.
“I’ll tell your boss,” Dorian said.
“I’m way too good with my mouth for you to do that.”
Will’s apparent skills aside, Dorian’s mouth went dry as he looked in Will’s big dark eyes and wondered. Before he could reply, he saw the wide glass doors at the other end of the room open. The woman who entered pulled off a raincoat to reveal a pair of skin-tight leggings and a matching crop top.
“You have work to do,” he said, correctly assuming she was one of Will’s clients, as she waved over at him and Will turned to wave back. “And I need to finish my run.”
“Folsen, then?” Will said, a sweet, boyish hopefulness in his voice.
“We’ll see,” said Dorian.
He went a little faster on the rest of his run, just to keep his mind off Will, who, in the gaps between songs, he could hear chattering away to his client in the same bright, cheerful tone with which he’d invited Dorian to a sex dungeon.
— — —
“This is a bad idea,” Dorian said. “We really shouldn’t be doing this here.”
“Uh-huh,” Ashton replied. On its face, this was an agreement. Ashton was, however, still pressing Dorian against the back wall of the practice room he used after hours to teach in, and he was still grinding his thigh between Dorian’s legs.
And Dorian was letting him. He really shouldn’t have complained so much about Will offering to perform sexual favors at his own workplace, if he went and did this not twenty-four hours later. The indignation had been a bit hypocritical.
Dorian’s last student had left for the day, so at least no musically talented teenagers or their parents would come across their tutor furiously kissing a man who didn’t exactly look like they belonged in the Starpoint Conservatory Music Department. Dorian tilted his hips and tried to rub his own thigh against Ashton’s cock, which made them exhale explosively against his neck.
“Ashton,” Dorian said.
“There’s no security cameras in here.”
“Why do you know that?”
“Because I checked,” Ashton said. “Last time I picked you up from work, when I was thinking about fooling around with you in here.”
“Oh, so this was premeditated.”
“Yeah. Premeditated ass-grabbing.” Ashton did, then, grab his ass and grind him against their thigh. They kept at it, working him in little circles.
“Ashton—you’re gonna make me come at work.”
“Yeah,” Ashton said. “Night cleaners don’t get here for an hour yet. Ride me as long as you want, baby. I wanna see you try to keep yourself from screaming while you finish.”
Dorian rolled his eyes. “I’m not loud when I don’t want to be.”
“Sure,” Ashton said, disbelieving.
They reached all the way around Dorian’s ass to drive their fingers against his cunt from the backside, and Dorian, who otherwise would have screamed, simply elected to stop breathing.
“Man, fuck you,” Ashton said. “Whatever. I don’t care as long as you can still get off like that. Even if I don’t hear you scream, I can feel how wet you are through these.” He rubbed his fingers against the wet seam of Dorian’s loose cotton trousers.
Dorian nodded rapidly. He could still get off. He was still going to get off.
“Yeah, alright,” Ashton said. “Good boy.”
Dorian stopped letting Ashton move him around and started actively grinding against him, which only seemed to please Ashton, who was laying feverish little nips and kisses along Dorian’s collarbone and shoulder, where he’d pushed his button down aside.
“That’s it,” Ashton said. “Make yourself come on me.” He repositioned his hands to grasp Dorian’s hips in just the right place to feel him flex. “Use me.”
Dorian wished that holding his breath didn’t preclude him from speaking, because Ashton did love to be told he was just a toy to be used for somebody else’s pleasure. Dorian tried to make his actions say that instead, focusing entirely on his own orgasm and letting Ashton follow his lead.
As Dorian found his way to a shuddering, blissful finish, Ashton gripping him tight and murmuring encouragement against his neck, he wondered if the teenage fumbling in dark corners he’d scoffed at over the years actually had something to it.
He let a shaky breath out, and kissed Ashton fervently, only for as long as Ashton let him, pouting when Ashton pulled away. Ashton tugged him away from the wall, and then dropped him back into the chair where bored parents sat while Dorian taught their kids piano, or guitar, or flute.
Wasting no time, Ashton knelt between his legs, put his face against Dorian’s crotch, and groaned happily.
“Ash?” Dorian squeaked, because oral sex was a lot for a public space with a very much unlocked door.
Ashton wasn’t actually trying to eat him out, apparently. He was getting himself off, one hand tucked below his waistband and moving urgently.
“Gods above—are you smelling me?”
“Mm.”
“You’re perverted,” Dorian said. He was, too, though, because he was spreading his legs wider. “You’re an absolute mess.”
Ashton moaned.
“Is that really all it takes? You unrepentant harlot.”
The sound of Ashton’s hand moving was wet, almost louder than Dorian’s voice. Dorian swallowed, considered his words, and kept going.
“Truly, you couldn’t wait? We could be home in my bed right now, but you just had to,” never mind that Dorian had been equally guilty, “and now you’re on your knees on this floor, touching yourself over an orgasm that you barely even contributed to.”
“Fuck, Dorian, that’s just mean,” Ashton said, lifting his head for just a second.
Dorian tugged them back down between his legs. “You like it when I’m mean. Finish up, before I regain my wits and leave you here.”
Ashton mouthed something against Dorian’s crotch. He had no idea what it was. ‘Yeah,’ maybe.
If they had endless time and weren’t at Dorian’s place of work, he’d eagerly strip and let Ashton eat him out in earnest, but the cleaners would come eventually, and Dorian would rather not be caught.
“I’m not asking,” he said quietly, letting his fingers dig hard into the back of Ashton’s neck. “Come, you filthy little—“
Ashton sagged back so their forehead pressed against the chair, the crystal points on their head cold against Dorian’s belly. They gasped, shaking, their forearm working hard as they peaked. Dorian could feel it moving against his shin.
“Fuck,” Ashton panted, as he leaned back. “Fuck, Dorian.”
Dorian giggled, and then he shoved Ashton in the shoulder. “You’re terrible.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m terrible, sure. Shit.” He stood slowly, as if his knees were hurting him. “Where’s the bathroom? I need to wash my hands after that.”
Dorian scoffed and cast to clean them both up.
Ashton shivered. “That always feels like you’re running your fingernails over every inch of me,” he said.
That was not at all how Dorian experienced it—to him, Prestidigitation was more like static electricity that never actually gave you a shock. “Strange,” he said, wondering if the metal in Ashton’s skin had something to do with it. “In any case, we, ah, we really should get going.”
Ashton laughed, grabbing Dorian’s bag for him and steering him out the door. “You’re always so awkward afterward,” he said. “You tell me all this filthy shit when we’re fucking, and then you have the nerve to look shy after. It’s cute.”
Dorian flushed, trying to sort his hair back into place even though it was never mussed to begin with. “Come on, Ashton, let’s just get home.”
“Yeah, okay,” Ashton said, taking Dorian’s hand when he offered it.
They were halfway down the hall when Ashton turned Dorian’s way, and then stopped moving. Dorian slowed, following their lead.
“What?” Dorian said.
Ashton was just looking at him. Dorian watched their throat work as they swallowed. They shook their head. “Nothing. Just. You’re so fucking pretty.”
“Thank you?” Dorian said, unable to lower his voice from a squeak. He toyed with the strap on his umbrella. Unsure how to move on from there, he made possibly the worst subject change he could’ve. “Um, what would you think about, maybe, showing me off at the party on Folsen?”
Ashton stared at him for a second, gobsmacked, and then looked around the hall. “Hang on. I’m just trying to see if there’s another room in here where I can drag you to get you off again.”
“I suppose that seems positive,” Dorian said, no longer regretting asking.
“Of course it fucking is, except for the part where I have to be horny about this for a week, now. God. You drive me insane.”
“It’s four days,” Dorian said.
Ashton made a sound like whatever. “You tell Will and Orym yet?”
“No, only the girls,” Dorian said. “Opal’s picking my outfit. Should I tell Will and Orym? Will it mess with their plans?”
“Nah, they’ll just rearrange their plans to ‘fucking Dorian however he wants’.” Ashton waited in the doorway while Dorian put up his umbrella.
“Oh! I don’t want anyone to have to—I don’t even know if I want. Um. It might make things weird.”
The rain was less of a torrential downpour tonight, and Ashton turned down Dorian’s offer to share the umbrella. It still wasn’t motorcycle weather, so they were taking the train home. Thankfully, no cable car was needed to get to Fearne’s place. Dorian would hate to use one in this weather.
“Why?” Ashton asked, the sparse raindrops plinking off the crystal on their head.
“Orym’s been such a dear friend for so long, and so has Will,” Dorian said. “I just… worry.”
“Hm.” Ashton shoved his hands in his pockets. “In my experience, if a years-long friendship can be ruined by asking if they wanna have sex, you weren’t really great friends to begin with.”
Dorian winced just picturing it.
“I don’t mean to stress you.” They stepped under the umbrella a little just to nudge Dorian’s hip with theirs. “What I’m saying is, Orym’s a good guy. He won’t let that get between you. He’s just waiting on you to make the first move. And if he really didn’t wanna fuck you—which I fuckin’ doubt—he’d just say so, and it’d be done. You’d still be friends.”
Dorian nodded, like he was trying to convince himself. They reached the station, and he took the umbrella down as they entered the massive covered pavilion and waited alongside the small crowd of people headed home or out or to the cable car stations to another spire.
Dorian knew that if Ashton was going home, they’d need to go to the other side of the station, up and over to the opposite platform. He wasn’t quite ready for them to part, though, not after such an intimate moment.
“Are you headed to Fownsee Hollow, or, um…” Dorian said.
Ashton tucked their hand into his. “You want me to come home with you?”
“I’d like that, yes,” Dorian said.
“Sure,” Ashton said. “I don’t know what fuckin’ train it is from here, though. Lead the way.”
Dorian tugged on Ashton’s hand, and Ashton followed.
— — —
“I suppose I should have expected this,” Dorian said, upon entering Orym’s living room to find Ashton with Will on top of him.
“Welcome to polyamory, bay- bee,” Will said. He sat back and grinned. There was a visible bite mark purpling on his neck, which hadn’t been there when Orym and Dorian left the house to pick up takeout.
“We leave you guys alone for fifteen minutes,” Orym said, very clearly pretending to gripe. He set the bag on the dining table and started inspecting the sandwiches, determining which belonged to who.
“Yeah, fifteen whole minutes,” Ashton said. “You should be surprised nobody’s naked.” He punctuated this by slapping Will’s ass.
“Will’s shirt has mysteriously disappeared,” Dorian reported. It was on the floor.
“Again: nobody’s naked,” Ashton said. Once Will finally got off of Ashton, they stood, and kissed Dorian hello before heading for the food.
Honestly, the fact that Dorian got any sort of greeting before Ashton went for the food was a clear sign they cared. The fact that Will followed him and also kissed Dorian hello (on the cheek) was a clear sign that he was trying to fluster Dorian within an inch of his life.
Dorian wasn’t quite certain how to bring up the fact that he would indeed be attending their celebration of the New Dawn at a dungeon, which he’d been told was much chiller than you’d expect. He was sure the fact that he was magnificently awkward all through dinner probably had Orym and Will suspicious that his decision was leaning affirmative.
Eventually, Ashton fixed this problem by putting another round of beers on the table and saying, “we planning shit for Folsen?”
“All of us?” Orym asked, looking at Dorian.
“All of us are gonna be there, so, yeah,” Ashton said. They took their seat. Orym and Will’s dining table had benches, like a picnic table, so Ashton could sit close enough that their whole side pressed up against Dorian’s. “Personally, I think we go against the instinct to put Dorian in the middle. He’s gonna freak out.”
“Rude,” Dorian said.
“Well, you will, won’t you?”
Dorian grumbled, which meant, ‘probably’.
“I sort of thought these things were, like, you just went with whatever…? No?” All three of them were looking at Dorian like he’d grown a second head.
“No, man,” Ashton said. “I think Orym and I talked for like thirty minutes before we got into it the first time. If I’m doing some kind of semi-dangerous physical shit with someone and we don’t negotiate beforehand, it’s a bar fight, not fuckin’. All this.”
“It’s easy to hurt somebody if you don’t talk things through,” Orym said, “and even though Will and I know you well enough that we probably wouldn’t accidentally hurt you physically, we have no clue where your limits for intimacy are.”
‘None,’ Dorian wanted to say. ‘I would let you do anything to me.’ But then he might be expected to do something back, and the confidence he felt with Ashton did not extend to two of his oldest friends.
Ashton’s hand on the small of his back was oddly comforting. “So. Put me in the middle instead?”
“I think you’re just angling to get literally fucked into next year,” Will joked.
“Well, yeah,” Ashton said, and from there, the tension started to bleed out.
Ashton was happy to be forthright, explicit, and detailed about it. Thank goodness. Dorian didn’t know how Ashton managed to say things like, “yeah, I’m planning to wear a miniskirt, so I don’t have to take anything off for you to fuck me,” or, “it’s pretty nice to have Dorian step on me, ‘cause he’s so light,” or, “so, tied up, bent over and fucked? Sure, sounds good.”
To Ashton, it was probably practically mundane, but Dorian’s head was swimming and his thighs were pressed tight together by the time they got done. Ashton, who was, per usual, sitting with his knees practically in separate spires, could probably feel Dorian’s thighs flexing as he tried to make himself comfortable while inconveniently aroused.
Ashton, in an act of mercy, did not say anything about it. This did not make up for the fact that he did say, “so, Blue, don’t think you’ve gotten out of talking about yourself.”
“I don’t think I need to—“
“Yeah, you do. You gotta tell Will and Orym how they can touch you, if you want them to at all. We can keep it focused on me—“ he nudged Dorian’s knee with his own? “—but I don’t think that’s what you want.”
“We’re game for whatever you are,” Will reminded him.
“Well, I’m also. I mean, whatever you two want, I'm fine with it.”
Ashton pinched Dorian’s hip just to make him squeak, and then patted his lower back. “You can’t just say that,” he said. “Orym and Will aren’t gonna do anything you don’t want, but they don’t know what you want. You’ve got limits, they’ve got limits.”
“You do?” Dorian asked Orym and Will. Everything they talked about doing always felt so wild to him, it was like they couldn’t possibly have a hard stopping point.
“Yeah, not that any of them really apply here,” Orym said. “But like, when we’re doing this with women, I don’t like to be touched anywhere, uh, intimate. Whereas Will…”
“I’m not immune to Fearne Calloway,” Will said.
“Fair,” said Dorian, who wasn’t entirely immune, himself.
“Ash is right, though, Dorian,” Orym said. “If we don’t know if you’re okay with us kissing you or touching you in whatever way, we’re not gonna know how to keep you safe. And we want to keep you safe.”
Dorian couldn’t imagine a way in which they could possibly kiss or touch him that he wouldn’t want. He found himself more afraid of getting exactly what he wanted, and going mad with longing when the night ended, and he went back to just being Orym’s best friend.
“You don’t gotta give us a list, like Ashton does,” Will said. “And you don’t gotta answer right now. We have time.”
“Right,” Dorian said. “Right. If it’s all the same, I’ll think about it for a little while.” As if he’d been thinking of anything but the possibility he might get to kiss Orym or Will or both of them.
“Absolutely,” Orym said. “And it’s like Ash said, we can focus on them. God knows they could use the attention.”
“Hey,” Ashton said, without much heat. He sat back, arms crossed, and gave Orym a strange look. Dorian recognized Ashton’s Judgmental Face, because Ashton was so very often judgmental, but didn’t understand what he could be pointing it at Orym for.
“Later, then,” Will said. “Also, I have to tell you about the crazy shit that happened at work today—“
Dorian started to relax as he listened to Will ramble on about another trainer who, unlike Will, was apparently not above sleeping with a client, and the trail of torrid affairs that followed. By the end of the night, he’d quite nearly forgotten he’d planned an evening engagement that would involve restraining his partner and fucking them in front of whoever was at the club that evening.
Nearly.
The reality of his weekend plans came rushing back in full when he and Ashton returned to his and Fearne’s place, slipping between her house and the neighbors’ and entering via the side door because Fearne had somebody over up front.
The back half of the house, with the secondary living room, the kitchenette, and Dorian’s room, could be closed off from the front, likely so the former owner could rent the apartment out. It was dark, as the house was built into the Spire and this half received very little ambient light. Ashton did not turn a single lightswitch on before closing the door and backing Dorian up against it.
Dorian missed their mouth on the first kiss, and also on the second, but found it on the third. Ashton pushed him hard against the door.
“Don’t think I didn’t fucking see you back there,” Ashton said. “Legs shoved together, sitting straight as an arrow, probably trying to push your cunt against the seat. You wanted it so bad.”
“Ashton!” Dorian admonished him, letting Ashton’s thigh get between his legs just like he’d done in the practice room.
“Does it get you that horny?” Ashton asked. “Thinking about how Will and Orym fuck me? They do it at the same time sometimes, y’know. I can take both of them.”
In the short span that had been Ashton and Dorian’s romantic entanglement—barely over a week since their first date, and nearly a month since they’d met—they hadn’t talked much about Orym and Will. They knew they had mutual friends, and Dorian had learned that Ashton was involved with Orym and Will, but Ashton rarely gave specifics other than ‘going out’ with them and ‘going home’ with them and ‘staying over’ with them.
So, Dorian didn’t know how much he was allowed to ask. “You probably shouldn’t be sharing their business like that,” he told Ashton.
“They don’t care,” Ashton said.
“It’s still private, it’s not like they tell me much about how things are between them, either—“
That was about when Ashton slapped their palm over Dorian’s mouth, which was rude. “Listen to me,” they said, low, rough, “I’m gonna need you three to stop pretending like you don’t wanna fuck each other stupid.”
Dorian narrowed his eyes at them.
Ashton took this as a challenge.
“Orym and Will both told me that I’m free to tell you literally anything we do in bed, as long as you wanna listen.” (This revelation made Dorian’s head spin.) “Including the time you called Orym while we were fucking, Will suggested that he answer and let you hear what we were doing to him, and he lost it way early. He’s not just an exhibitionist. It’s you. You made him come.”
Dorian outright moaned. Ashton was still covering his mouth, but they probably felt it.
“You want them as much as they want you, but you won’t do shit about it, so I’m gonna fuck you about it, because I can’t fucking resist you,” Ashton said. He dropped his hand from Dorian’s mouth and kissed him instead.
“Let’s go to bed,” Dorian agreed.
“No,” Ashton said. “I’m fucking you right here against this door. Because there’s no fucking wall space in this house.”
“Oh,” said Dorian, who had not actually been expecting Ashton to make good on their promise to fuck him against a wall. “How—?”
“Shut up. Take your pants off, while I grab the stuff I had Fearne leave in your room for me.”
“Just my pants?” Dorian asked, teasing a little bit.
“And your underwear. Fuck knows they’re soaked through. And whatever else—just get naked, okay? Fuck.”
Then they kicked their boots off and stalked off to Dorian’s bedroom, shutting the door behind them.
Dorian did not follow Ashton’s very silly order of operations and took his shirt off first, undoing all the buttons and setting it on the small countertop of the kitchenette that separated the back door from the living room. He was quicker getting out of his shoes and pants, not sure how long Ashton was going to take. Still, he stood for a long moment with his back to the door, letting the metal chill his skin and calm him down, his mind racing even with only half an idea what Ashton was doing.
If Ashton wanted to fuck him against a wall, that meant Ashton needed something to fuck him with. Why Fearne would leave him something to do with that, Dorian had no clue. Thanks to her influence, Dorian did have his own toys, and he’d been picturing this encounter going something like a vertical version of that time Ashton had laid him out on his back and used their thigh to push one of Dorian’s toys into him and slowly, steadily fuck him.
Dorian considered putting a hand on himself as he considered that, but he was feeling a bit awkward standing on the welcome mat, completely nude. The idea of Ashton catching him touching himself was enticing, but by the time he’d worked up the courage, the bedroom door swung open again.
“Fuck. Forgot it was dark out here, I turned the light on and now I can’t see shit—ow.”
“Are you alright?” asked Dorian, who only had marginally better vision thanks to his eyes having adjusted to the dark room, and could make out Ashton’s shape approaching. “I could turn on the lights?”
“Nah, don’t do that. I’m good.” Ashton reached him, careful hands finding Dorian’s arm, then his shoulders. “I’ll get there.”
“What did you…” Dorian’s curious fingers ran along Ashton’s hips and down to his waist, where he encountered the texture of the hemp rope Fearne liked to use. “Oh. Is that what you got from Fearne?”
“It was that or borrow her strap, and her harness doesn’t fit me. Plus, I assume she’s using it on whoever’s over.” Ashton gripped Dorian’s hips, shifting the angle like they were sizing him up. “Okay, come here.”
Dorian took a step away from the door, and felt soft silicone against his thigh, confirming what the rope was being used for. Ashton was still in their t-shirt and boxers, which made Dorian feel increasingly naked.
Around nervous laughter, he said, “so, are you just gonna…?”
“Yep.” Ashton crouched down, grabbed Dorian’s thighs, and hauled him upward, forcing him to clench his legs around their waist. With Dorian securely in their arms, Ashton stepped forward, flattening Dorian’s back against the door. “You really do weigh nothing. If I didn’t need leverage, I bet I could just bounce you on my cock.”
“You’d fuck up your shoulder,” Dorian groused.
“Yeah, well I’m not doing that, am I?” said Ashton, who was probably going to fuck up his shoulder anyways. “Move a little, Dorian, I’m trying to get this thing in you.”
“It’s a little hard to—“
“Hang on, if I reach, I can hold it steady—“
“Ooh, no, I think I just sort of bent it in half doing that.”
“Good fucking god, I’m glad I don’t have a real dick.”
“Ash, can you—“
“I got—“
“Oh!”
Dorian realized immediately that Ashton had picked the longer of his toys, which was wise, as the rope made the last inch or so unusable.
It also meant that, with the help of gravity, the toy sank in with a single hard push, the rounded tip shoving hard against his g-spot and making him yelp so loud Fearne probably heard him from the other end of the house.
“That’s it,” Ashton said, getting a good grip on Dorian’s thighs before starting to fuck him. He could only move in quick, jerky thrusts, staying as close to Dorian as possible, but it just meant he rubbed the head of the toy exactly where it would drive Dorian crazy.
Dorian’s overwhelming arousal had begun to wane when anxiety crept in as he waited on Ashton, but being fucked like this felt incredible, every thrust angled perfectly, so good it was almost a torment.
“If I showed them what you looked like right now, they’d both lose their minds,” Ashton said. Dorian couldn’t pretend he might not be talking about Orym and Will. “Even if they could just hear you.”
“Ash.”
“And if they could stand where I’m at,” Ashton said, “they’d fuck you just like this. And you’d want it, wouldn’t you?”
Dorian nodded, words quite beyond him.
“I mean, Orym couldn’t do this,” Ashton demonstratively gave him a few quick, hard thrusts. “But if you asked him to eat you out after Will finished in you, he’d do it like he was starving.”
Dorian felt tears pricking at his eyes. “Ashton, please, you can’t—it’s you I’m here with—“
“I don’t care if you think about them while you come. Fuck knows they do it, too.”
Arousal lanced through him, making his back arch up off the cold surface of the door, Ashton grinding in slow circles inside him.
“C’mon, Dorian,” they said. “Show me how pretty you’re gonna look when they make you come.”
Dorian was helpless to do anything but comply. He called Ashton’s name so loud he was sure Fearne’s neighbors would hear him, and Ashton growled their wordless reply.
When Ashton got him back on solid ground, Dorian’s head was still spinning. He leaned heavily against Ashton and told them, “you are a menace.” And then he went straight from admonishing to whimpering when Ashton pulled completely out of him.
“Yup,” Ashton said, bracing Dorian with one arm while untying the toy from its holster with their free hand. “C’mon, you’re not gonna wanna stay messy. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Don’t you want…?” Dorian said.
“Nah.”
“Because we can—I don’t want you to hold off for my sake.”
“Dorian.” Ashton gripped his chin in their hand. “I am extremely satisfied having done that to you. I don’t need to get off for that to be true.”
Dorian tossed his head and finally arranged his words enough to explain. “I just don’t want to act like my own shitty ex-boyfriend.”
“You’re not.” Ashton dropped the rope on the bathroom floor—Dorian flicked a hand in its direction to Prestidigitate it clean. “Does it make you feel better if I tell you that you owe me one hell of an orgasm on Folsen?”
“Maybe,” Dorian said. He wasn't really sure if it did.
“Seriously, if you were acting like that guy, you wouldn’t care that I hadn’t finished.” That was an actual reassurance. “Get in bed, I’ll finish cleaning up.”
Dorian did not get in bed so Ashton could finish cleaning up. He kicked them out so he could pee, and then he finished cleanup (it was easier with magic) and followed them to his bedroom after.
He was half expecting to walk in on Ashton getting off, but he’d apparently meant it when he said he didn’t need to. Ashton lay facing the door, so that his good side was tucked against the pillows, and he lifted up the blankets for Dorian to slip under them.
Dorian was supposed to say something else, maybe thank Ashton for fucking him against a wall, but he found himself saying, “you know, I’ve been in love with Orym for almost a decade.”
“Fuck,” Ashton said. It was an impressed sort of ‘fuck,’ not a surprised one or even a frustrated one. “How come you’ve never done anything about it?”
Dorian shifted closer, almost nose to nose with them. “Well, I met Orym when I started university. He and Will were graduating that year, and Fearne and I were first-year international students—so we ended up in the upper-level housing, since their amenities were open over breaks.” Dorian remembered liking the thought that they wouldn’t have to go home, he could spend the majority of his year independent.
Ashton’s brow furrowed like they were trying to translate the way their university education in Jrusar had worked, compared to Dorian’s in Emon. “So you lived with them? On the same floor?”
“Closer. We shared a suite with Orym and Will—our own bedrooms, but a shared living room and bathroom, and a kitchen, which, honestly, was pretty cushy for first-years.” He shook his head, getting himself back on track. “Will studied abroad that year, so I only saw him for the first two weeks or so, and then he came back about a month before graduation. So it was really just me, Orym, and Fearne. And Orym missed Will terribly, and I could ever do anything to come between them.”
Ashton opened their mouth, possibly to make a joke about coming between them, but then paused, and instead said, “I guess I get that.”
“They weren’t polyamorous then. I mean, I know they were, technically—they had only ever been with each other.” Dorian ducked his head against Ashton’s chest. “None of that happened until they moved to Jrusar, and I was back with the Silken Squall. I didn’t actually know they dated other people until you said you were together.”
“If I’m not actually dating Fearne, I’m probably not actually dating them.”
“Probably?”
He felt Ashton shrug. “I have a bad habit of not talking about that shit.”
“Maybe you should talk about shit.”
“Oh, yeah, like you can fucking talk. Asshole.” Ashton still hugged him a little tighter. “They love you too, y’know. Never shut up about you.”
Something squirmed uncomfortably in Dorian’s stomach, like his excitement and anxiety were squabbling. “Oh,” he said.
“I can see why they do,” Ashton said.
“You can?”
“Well. You know.” He could imagine the look of consternation on their face that always seemed to show when they were required to express a genuine emotion. “I don’t know you that well, but you’re pretty alright.”
“Just what every man wants to hear from his boyfriend,” Dorian sighed.
“Fuck off,” Ashton said. “Shut the fuck up. I’m not in love with you, it’s been a month. I dunno what the fuck else to say.”
“Oh, just fall in love with me later,” Dorian said around a yawn. “Kiss me goodnight for now.”
He felt Ashton sigh, and then he lifted his head and let Ashton kiss him goodnight about ten times.
— — —
“Well, it covers your ass, so you’re not allowed to complain,” said Opal, who had managed to put together the sluttiest outfit Dorian had ever worn. “Also, it looks amazing.”
It was also much more coverage than either her or Fearne’s outfits allowed, so clearly she’d afforded Dorian some modesty. He was dressed in a black bodysuit, which made up for its high-cut hips and heart-shaped chest cutout with long sleeves. Beyond that, she’d managed to find him pink sequined shorts that matched a pair of go-go boots that almost got him to Fearne’s height.
“You can’t tell me you’re not gonna like being taller than Ashton,” she added, placing her heart-shaped sunglasses on his nose.
“I’m already taller than Ashton,” Dorian said. “He’s 5’10.”
“Well, like, waaaay taller than Ashton.”
Dorian did not get to answer her, because Fearne bustled into his bedroom, twirling around to show off that she was, indeed, matching, in a sparkly pink bustier with a black tulle robe.
Dorian let Opal put his hair in twin braids while Fearne put on makeup, the two of them chattering back and forth about a scene they had planned with a few of their other friends which sounded incredibly theatrical and involved. They had characters and everything.
Dorian became admittedly more nervous the closer they got to actually arriving at the event, and getting into the club (as Fearne’s plus one) became a blur.
As Dorian was trying not to focus too hard on Opal straight up undressing in the middle of the changing room to put on a pink leather bra covered in spikes and straps (it was only logical for to change here, it wouldn’t have fit under her t-shirt, etc), someone approached and bumped his hand gently.
He looked over and then down, to find Orym standing beside him. “Hey,” Orym said. “Thanks for getting Fearnie here on time for once.”
“Hi!” Dorian said. “You look nice.” It was an honest compliment, although Orym arriving dressed like he might be attending the totally mainstream New Dawn celebration at the Spire by Fire made Dorian feel somehow overdressed and underdressed simultaneously. Orym’s espresso-brown button-up had stripes which, on closer inspection, were lines of tiny pink roses. Dorian wondered if Opal had told him to wear pink, too, and Dorian had also thought his only pink shirt was a neon tank top with the logo of Will’s gym on the front. Had he gotten something special for the occasion?
“Oh, thank you, I, uh, well, most of this will be coming off eventually,” Orym said, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. Dorian realized Orym might be a little shy—not of the setting or the atmosphere of the club, but of the fact that Dorian was here.
Dorian had no chance to tease him about this, because that was about when Will swept in, picked Orym straight up off the floor, and kissed him. Will was actually dressed like someone who was attending a party at a sex club, in leather trousers low enough to show off the straps of his underwear and a matching harness tight around his sculpted shoulders. Dorian was having trouble looking at him. Dorian was also having trouble not looking at him.
Will set Orym down and embraced Dorian, who was overcome by just how good Will smelled. When he let go, Dorian tried to return his smile with confidence, and he let Will steer him into the dungeon proper to give him a boisterous tour of the place.
It was early in the night, and the dungeon looked less like a place people were going to have a lot of public sex, and more like a gym with unusual lighting choices. It was in an old warehouse building quite near Ashton’s place in Fownsee Hollow, with the exposed industrial ceilings painted black, so the club lighting made strange shapes as it traveled over metal supports and HVAC vents. Instead of workout machines, there were wooden pieces of furniture spaces out across the room, all designed to restrain someone, bend them over, stretch them out, or otherwise expose them.
Will made a point to tell Dorian that there was a sex swing.
There was also a pole in the middle of a small dancefloor, which was mostly unoccupied except for Fearne, holding onto the pole and idly letting it spin around, while she talked to a group of people clustered around holding drinks. The music was loud, but not so much so that Dorian couldn’t hear the crack of a whip and an answering moan, the former of which made him jump.
Will set a hand on his lower back, giving him a comforting push onward. “You get used to it,” he said, “don’t worry.”
They passed the bar, the restrooms (sternly labeled ‘NO SEX IN THE BATHROOMS. ONE PERSON PER STALL. THANK YOU.’) and a few private rooms, and then Will acquired Dorian a drink, led him to the lounge area, and plopped him at one end of an enormous sectional couch to relax for a bit. Dorian was as high-strung as too-tight piano wire, so the break was welcome, even though he had enjoyed the compliments on his outfit he’d received on the tour.
“Doing alright?” Will asked.
“Oh, yes,” Dorian said. “I’m sort of… I just wish I knew when Ashton was arriving, that’s all.” Phones were left in the locker room, as they weren’t permitted within the dungeon. “Which is silly, of course, you’re taking care of me and all.”
“I know what you mean,” Will said, putting an arm around his shoulders. “There’s no way I would’ve gotten into all this without Orym.”
“I wouldn’t exactly compare—“ Dorian began, because it hadn’t even been a month since he’d first kissed Ashton, and Orym and Will had been together since the dawn of time, but he stopped abruptly when Ashton rounded the corner and dropped directly into Dorian’s lap.
Ashton said, “hey.”
Dorian said, “um!”
Will said, “I think you somehow made that shorter since the last time I saw you in it.”
He was referring to the red miniskirt Ashton had on, which was so short Dorian could feel their bare ass against his thigh, a fact which was making all his sense crumble. Ashton was apparently wearing underwear, but it appeared to be the sort that barely counted as underwear, as Dorian could see a very thin strap rising over their hip.
“Dammit, Ash, you broke Dorian,” Will said.
“What the fuck, man, you’ve literally seen me in less clothes than this. Yesterday.”
“Yes—but—well—you.”
Ashton laughed at Dorian’s incoherence, and Dorian grumblingly took another sip of his drink. “Just wait ‘til he sees the back of this,” they said, tugging the collar of their denim vest to indicate.
Dorian moved his hand to look at the actual wording on the patch he’d felt under his hand, which, in the manner someone might label their seeing-eye dog, read: SERVICE SUB.
“Oh,” Dorian said, “so, does that mean I’m not going to hear any backtalk from you today?”
“Don’t press your luck, asshole.”
Orym, according to Ashton, had been chatting with several people, as prone as ever to getting stuck in conversations with anybody he was friendly with. Dorian finished his drink before Orym finally made his way to them, and had started to relax, having a surprisingly mundane conversation with Will, Ashton, and a woman wearing an outfit made entirely of pearls. His nervousness crept back in when Orym reappeared and they all got up and bid goodbye to their new acquaintance, ready to play out everything they’d suggested a few days prior at Orym and Will’s kitchen table.
The clock on the wall read that it was nearing 11:00. Dorian supposed that if Ashton really did want to be fucked into next year, they ought to start soon.
Dorian let Ashton lead him by the hand, and was grateful that they were setting up in a dark corner, spreading out a blanket on the carpet, which was the hard-wearing sort that contributed to the place looking like a gym. The blanket helped the atmosphere—even if it was the waterproof one that they used for picnics and camping, it was still cushy and comfortable to sit on.
Actually, it being the waterproof one was probably part of the plan.
“Are you good?” Ashton asked, probably because Dorian’s eyes were as round as dinner plates as he watched Orym pull several lengths of rope out of his backpack.
“I’m. Um. I.”
“We don’t have to do this here, now, Dorian,” they said.
And yes, this was true, but also, Dorian was not going to be the one who stopped this from happening. “I’m fine,” he said, more certain. “I’m a little nervous, but I don’t want to stop.”
“Right, but, y’know. We could wait for a private room, or, fuck, do this back at Orym and Will’s house.”
Dorian didn’t know how to explain that having an audience was actually settling his nervous stomach. If all his energy was turned outwards—a performance, a show— then he could put the same personality into it that he put into his occasional gigs at bars and tiny music venues. A shining smile, a theatrical lilt to his voice, and confidence would bloom out of the places anxiety had shriveled.
He snapped the band of Ashton’s underwear just to hear them say, “fuck!” and said, “I’ll be fine. You go worry about whatever Orym and Will have planned to torment you.”
“Yeah, okay. Good.” Ashton did, indeed, have to stand on their tiptoes to kiss Dorian, thanks to the platform boots.
Orym beckoned Dorian to join him, while Will hooked a carabiner around an attachment point Dorian hadn’t even noticed hanging from the metalwork of the ceiling. As Dorian made his way around to Orym, Will attached a strap to the carabiner, then did a couple pull-ups on the strap. Ashton called him a showoff, and the two of them started playflighting, neither giving any attention to Dorian, who sat beside Orym and talked quietly enough that the others wouldn’t hear.
“I’m gonna put Ash on his back,” Orym said, “with his legs tied together, and threaded through that—“ a gesture at the bit Will was setting up, “—and you sitting by his head, holding his hands down while we fuck him. Okay?”
“Does Ashton know any of this?” Dorian asked. “I mean, other than. I know he knows he’s going to be on the bottom.”
“They like to be surprised with how I tie them, but this is about surprising them, not you,” Orym said. “All that sound good?”
“Yes,” Dorian said, a little more settled now that he knew the role he was going to play.
“Okay,” Orym said to Dorian, and then louder, over Dorian’s shoulder at Will, “are you helping ‘em stretch or flirting, Will, c’mon!”
“I can do both!” Will said, with Ashton bent over in a way that definitely seemed like both. He was much freer with his hands than he would be with a client, which was making Ashton wiggle enough to call into question the efficacy of the stretching.
Dorian was transfixed watching Orym rig Ashton up, binding a harness across his chest and shoulders in the same shape of the leather one Will wore, then tying his legs securely so that his calves were flat against his thighs. As he worked, Ashton slipped into that still, glassy-eyed place he went to when Dorian had seen Fearne tie him up in the past.
Will indicated for Dorian to kneel, and Dorian knelt, one of them on either side of Ashton’s head. One of them holding each of his hands.
Orym attached the ties on Ashton’s legs to the chest harness, then connected the whole thing to the upward point Will had set up. This meant Ashton, despite having their arms free, was virtually immobilized, and could not even roll over. If they really wanted to reach the pinnacle of brattiness, they could probably start untying the rope, but that’s what Dorian and Will were there for.
Orym adjusted his rolled-up sleeves, then flicked open the first few buttons on his shirt. “How are you feeling in the rope, Ash?”
“Good,” they said, voice a little rough.
“And how do you think you’re looking in the rope?” Orym finished stripping out of his shirt and went for his jeans next.
“Like a whore,” Ashton replied.
“You said it, not me.” Orym revealed that he did, in fact, own more than one pink article of clothing. His boxers—a truly abominably small pair of shorts—were a pretty shade of coral. The garters that clipped his socks to them were black, though. So were the socks, thigh-high and sheer. “I think you look pretty beautiful, though.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re a fuckin’ sap.”
“No,” Orym said, a sit-up-and-listen sternness in his voice. “That’s because I’m right.”
Dorian saw Ashton struggle to catch his breath, his throat working as he swallowed.
“Repeat it to me,” Orym said.
“You’re right,” Ashton said, “and, um. I’m beautiful. Or whatever.”
“Good boy.” Orym’s fingers played over the knots running up Ashton’s outer thigh. “I tie you like this because you’re beautiful, and I want everybody to see it.”
Ashton nodded.
Orym reached for the hem of Ashton’s skirt, which had fallen between his legs. He pushed it neatly out of the way, exposing the black thong Ashton was wearing. “And you let me do this to you because you’re a whore.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I think we’re understood here, then,” Orym said. “Although, I dunno why you wore any underwear at all—you know I’m just gonna fuck you.”
“‘S hot when you shove ‘em to the side.”
“Hm. Well, guess I probably shouldn’t give you the satisfaction of that yet, huh?” He touched Ashton through their underwear. It was wet enough to cling, and Ashton’s dick was hard enough to fill it out.
Ashton struggled—to do what, Dorian didn’t learn, because he squeezed down on Ashton’s hand and kept him still, and Will did the same on his opposite side.
“You can keep fighting it if you want,” Orym said, “but they’re not gonna let you. I have you, Ashton. Just let me take over.”
“If you don’t fuckin’ fuck me, right now—“
“You’re gonna, what? Growl at me?” Orym laughed. “Nah. Good try, but you’re not very scary like this.”
“Fuck you.”
“Be nice.” Orym leaned hard into one of the up-lines and made Ashton’s legs spread wider. “Dorian’s watching.”
Ashton’s head tilted up like he’d just remembered Dorian was there. Dorian understood. Orym commanded attention like this, and Dorian was just as focused on him as he was on Ashton.
“Dorian. Tell him, I need—I need to get fucked.” Ashton swallowed, still looking at him. “He’ll listen to you.”
“You’re the one who agreed to let Orym do whatever he likes with you,” Dorian said. “I’m not telling him to do anything.”
“Fuuuuck you,” Ashton said, their wrist flexing as they shifted the hand in Dorian’s grip to jab him in the thigh with their middle finger.
Dorian was going to take the insult with an eye-roll and a snide comment, but there was a ringing snap as Will lifted his free hand and smacked Ashton in the face. Lightly, and on the side without the scarring, but it still made Dorian startle.
It made Ashton sigh, and it made their eyes roll back in their head.
“So one of you finally decided to do something, nice,” Ashton said.
“Don’t talk to Dorian like that or he’s not gonna want to play with us anymore,” Will said.
This was not true at all.
“Dorian can take iii— ah! Fucking-god-dammit!”
Orym had placed the heel of his hand on Ashton’s cock and pressed down. Dorian imagined that much pressure on his own dick would edge into pain, and Ashton was even more sensitive. Orym released his touch after only a second, and Ashton squirmed in the ropes, the lines pulling taut as he tried and failed to wiggle his hips and rub up against Orym’s palm.
“Hit me or fuck me or both,” Ashton said. “I don’t wanna just sit here.”
Will looked over Ashton to talk to Orym. “Bet he doesn’t want Dorian to see how we can work him up so bad he comes from barely anything.”
“If you try and fucking do that, I’m gonna kick your ass,” Ashton said.
Will laughed. “Do it, I wanna watch ‘em try.”
Orym stepped all the way back, so he wasn’t touching Ashton anymore, and they jerked, the rope around their thighs going tight as they pulled unsuccessfully. Orym had done really well with the rope. Dorian had seen Fearne tie Ashton up before, but they hadn’t fought that, and it was almost surprising to see it actually hold them.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m just thinking. Not gonna leave you, Ash.” He grabbed one of the lines and pulled just so they could feel it. Orym liked to joke about his lack of strength, but the way his biceps tensed belied the truth of that.
“Think faster,” Ashton breathed. Dorian squeezed their hand in a way that was more comforting than titillating.
Orym and Will met eyes, doing that thing where they had a conversation entirely in the form of raised and lowered eyebrows. This concluded with Orym pointing toward himself with a thumb, pointing at Will, and then glancing down at Ashton. Dorian found it inscrutable, but Will nodded.
“Dorian, would you be comfortable sitting like this—“ Will adjusted Dorian’s positioning for him, indicating that he should get one of his thighs behind Ashton’s neck, so they could lean back against him. “We can grab something so his head doesn’t poke you.”
“Alright?” Dorian said, still a little unsure why he was needed to prop Ashton up. Will rifled through the bag and returned with a sweatshirt that was thick enough to keep the crystal points on Ashton’s head from digging into Dorian’s bare thigh.
“I need your head tipped back a little further,” Will said.
“Oh,” Ashton said. Their dark red tongue ran over their lips.
Dorian was, then, the last to realize that Will intended to put his cock in Ashton’s mouth.
He was also unsure what to focus on—Will’s thumb hooking over Ashton’s bottom teeth and forcing their mouth wider, or Orym pulling his shorts down to bare himself.
Dorian had seen them both naked before—Fearne was very fond of skinny dipping—but he’d never seen them both naked and aroused. Except maybe for the one time he’d walked in on them in their dorm bedroom, but it had been dark then—darker, anyway—and they were pressed too tightly together for him to see much of anything. He’d also immediately shut his eyes.
He didn’t see much here, either, because both of them pushed into Ashton without hesitating, Orym in his cunt, Will in his mouth. Ashton looked deeply pleased with where he’d found himself.
“They’re really good at this,” Will said, sweeping his hand down Ashton’s throat.
“Dorian probably knows,” Orym replied, his voice a little tight. He leaned his face against Ashton’s thigh, his cheek pressing into the ropes that kept them bound there.
“I do,” Dorian said, equally strained. The sight before him was breathtakingly hot, and he wanted to shift, just so he could press against the center seam of his shorts, but he didn’t want to jostle Ashton, especially since they had Will’s entire cock in their mouth, and Will’s entire cock looked like a lot. “But this, this is—I suppose—different.”
“Yeah.” Will leaned forward, as if hard-pressed to hold himself up, holding his weight on one of the ropes, jerking Ashton’s knee almost all the way back to his chest. Dorian worried about the contorted position, even if it wasn’t pressure on their bad hip, but Ashton didn’t tap out.
Dorian ran his fingers wonderingly over the ropes, feeling the way they compressed Ashton’s thigh, wondering if it’d do the same around the soft places on their hips and belly. He hooked his fingers through a space in the bindings where there was a gap between rope and skin, his anxiousness beginning to return when his hands were unoccupied.
“Orym,” Will said, “Orym, hurry up and finish, I wanna trade.”
“I don’t think we need to do all that,” Orym said. He leaned forward and tapped Ashton on the chest. “Make him finish.” Simple, authoritative, and, apparently, effective. Ashton grabbed Will’s thighs tighter and did something that made Will’s head drop and his voice cut out midway through, “come on, Orym—“
Orym seemed so focused on Ashton that Dorian didn’t feel awkward stealing a glance at him, though he found his heart in his throat once he did. Orym with his face like this, eyes shuttered, mouth soft, cheeks flushed, was irresistibly lovely. And looking at him directly forced Dorian to confront the fact that he was watching Orym fuck his boyfriend—the skirt pooled around Ashton’s hips was a very poor disguise for the act itself.
Dorian felt a distinct stab of jealousy. Not because Ashton was his— Ashton wasn’t anybody’s—but because he wanted Orym that way, too.
And then Orym found his eyes, and Orym’s mouth formed his name, either silent or too low to hear over the music, and Dorian knew he could have Orym.
He put his hand on Orym’s cheek, and Orym turned his face into it without hesitating. He felt hot breath on his palm, and then the press of a kiss.
Ashton said, “real cute,” and only then did Dorian realize that Will had finished and he had missed it. “Could you fuckin’, uh, stop flirting and get me off?”
Dorian took his hand away as if scalded, but Orym only said, “sorry, Ash,” with unapologetic cheer and picked up fucking them, his hand going to their cock. Orym’s hand was small enough, and Ashton’s dick was big enough for him to kind of jerk them off, and Dorian watched how he did it, wanting to imitate it next time he was with Ashton. Orym had probably done this much more frequently than Dorian had.
Dorian was distracted from his studiousness by Will, who had rebuttoned his trousers and settled in on Dorian’s side of the blanket. Ashton was apparently being trusted to manage their own hands, and was holding onto the ropes binding them, anyway.
Will was warm against Dorian’s side, and where one of his hands rested against the cutout over Dorian’s hip. “I didn’t want you left out,” he said into Dorian’s ear. “I also think if he sees you kiss me, Orym’s gonna fucking come. No pressure. Just sayin’.” As if he expected Dorian to agree, Will lifted the rose-tinted glasses off Dorian’s nose and set them on his own head, so they wouldn’t get in the way.
And of course, Dorian wanted to kiss Will almost as much as he’d wanted to kiss Orym. He was closer with Orym, but Will was charming, handsome, and clever.
“Yes, please.” Dorian let Will tug on one of his braids to pull him in, his hand on Will’s firm bicep as he kissed Dorian and did not stop. One of Will’s hands was on the back of Dorian’s head, and the other still rested on his hip, his thumb tracing the arc of bare skin. Opal was brilliant, and Dorian was never questioning her outfit choices ever again.
He heard soft cursing from Orym, laughter from Ashton, and Will hummed against his mouth and kissed him again and again.
There was a sharp snap as Ashton smacked Will, saying, “don’t fucking distract him.”
Will barely looked up from kissing Dorian, turning his head just enough to see Orym’s wide-eyed stare, and he let go of Dorian’s hair to palm Orym’s head and push him right down. “I know you came,” Will said, hand going to a fist in Orym’s hair. “Clean up your mess. You can have Dorian in a sec.”
“Thank fuck,” Ashton said, their irritation vanishing as Orym put his mouth on them, their head lolling back over Dorian’s thigh again.
Dorian wasn’t exactly accustomed to the sight of Ashton approaching orgasm, but he was becoming familiar with it, at least. He was entirely unfamiliar, however, with not being the one causing it, and once again wondered what he ought to do with his hands.
Will either sensed his hesitation or had very good timings because he said, “here. Give Ashton a good show, okay?” and shifted fully behind Dorian, sweeping his braid out of the way to kiss his neck, his hands running over the tight fit of Dorian’s bodysuit and groping his chest through the open cutout.
Dorian had to focus to keep his eyes on Ashton, shaking and squirming in Will’s grasp, his own arousal forced very suddenly back into his face.
“You wanna be next?” Will said into his ear, squeezing both his hips and drawing Dorian back into his lap.
“Yes,” Dorian said. He sounded like he was begging.
“For what? Orym’s mouth on you, being tied up, fucking Ashton like this?”
“I want, um. The first two,” Dorian whispered.
He should have expected Will to betray him. Immediately, Will told Ashton, “you hear that? Dorian wants to get tied up while Orym sucks his dick.”
“Fuck!” Ashton said. “You— fuck, Will— you saying this shit to get me off faster, or to get Orym to fuck me harder?”
“Were those not the same thing? I thought those were the same thing,” Will said. “And, the faster you get off, the sooner we can get Dorian right where you are.”
Dorian was slightly amazed, watching the way Ashton’s face shifted as Will’s suggestions got him off. Well. He presumed Orym had something to do with it, as well—Ashton’s hand shot out and reached for Orym’s head. Unable to grind himself against Orym because he was too immobilized by the rope, Ashton picked the next best thing and clasped Orym tight against his cunt. Dorian heard Orym moan as Ashton came in his mouth. He’d already finished, and likely wouldn’t do so again, but eating Ashton out was clearly doing something for him. Ashton only let go when his whole body went lax, and Orym looked dazed as he breathed against Ashton’s thigh for a moment.
When Orym sat up, he wiped his face with the back of his hand. Will reached around Dorian to pet Ashton on the shoulder, and when Dorian’s mind finally struggled through the haze of arousal, he began touching Ashton too, offering comfort that Ashton leaned into without a word, their eyes closed, their breath heavy and slow.
Orym took down the ropes before anything else. He went slower with it than he had when he was setting it up, easing Ashton back into a more comfortable position and rubbing his hands over the rope marks on their thighs. Dorian and Will focused on Ashton too, bringing them back down with gentle touches (from Dorian) and less-gentle kisses (from Will).
Eventually, Ashton batted them away and said, “isn’t one if you supposed to be fucking Dorian right about now?”
Dorian jolted. “Nobody ever said anything about—!”
“Or eating him out, or whatever. Someone’s supposed to be doing something to him.”
“We don’t have to—gods, Ash, we can give it a minute,” Dorian said.
“Nah. If we do that, you’re gonna chicken out.”
Dorian glowered at him, but he knew it was true.
“We should, uh, probably talk about what exactly it is you want,” Orym said.
“You should probably kiss him first,” Will said. “Give me that.” He took the rope from Orym, picking up where Orym had left off winding it into neat, loose coils. Dorian fiddled with one of the steadily-loosening ends of his braids.
Orym stood, and took the scant few steps across the blanket where Ashton had been laying. Standing, he was almost eye to eye with Dorian. “Can I…?”
“Of course,” Dorian said. “Always, anytime, I mean, yes.”
“Not any time,” Orym teased.
“Anytime,” Dorian replied, and realized Orym was waiting for him to make the first move.
Orym’s shoulders felt so small under his hands. Dorian leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth first, searching for the best way to fit the two of them together. Orym met him full-on the second time.
It was, possibly, the strangest setting Dorian could imagine for a first kiss. It hadn’t felt odd when Will kissed him under the same circumstances, but Dorian hadn’t fantasized about kissing Will nearly as often as Orym, and he certainly had never imagined kissing Orym at a place like this. Bathed in neon club lights, accompanied by the sounds of smacking and moaning and screaming, with Orym tasting like—oh gods, tasting like Ashton’s cunt.
Dorian surged forward against him, gathered Orym into his arms, the kiss going from sweet to filthy the instant Dorian tasted Ashton on him.
Orym’s hand grasped the back of Dorian’s head, a fist in his hair, his other cupping Dorian’s cheek as Dorian licked his mouth to taste more of Ashton’s come.
He only registered Ashton speaking because he was thinking about them. “Wow, they really fuckin’ went for it.”
“Could’ve told you that’d happen,” Will said.
Ashton laughed.
Orym pulled back, and Dorian realized he’d only stopped because Will had him by the hair again and was tugging him away. “Hey. Figured you wouldn’t stop unless—“
“Yeah, uh, I wouldn’t have,” Orym said. Dorian liked that admission, because he also wouldn’t have stopped kissing Orym unless prompted.
“You tying him, or am I?” Will asked.
“Dorian?” Orym said.
“Oh, either, I mean, it’s fine, I—“ Dorian let Orym go, his hands fluttering as he spoke, and Orym stepped away and let go of Dorian’s hair. He was a little sorry to let him go.
“You’re tying him,” Will decided. “He wants you, he’s just being polite.”
“Will,” Orym complained.
“No. Look.” Will grabbed Orym’s chin this time, pointing his face right at Dorian. “He fucking wants you. I need you to tell me you know that.”
“I know,” Orym said, almost too low to hear.
“He’s bad at catching onto that,” Will said. He smacked Orym hard on the ass, then said, “alright, your show now, baby.”
Ashton still looked terribly amused. Dorian rolled his eyes at them.
“‘Kay,” Orym said, giving Dorian a more focused look, like he had when he’d tied Ashton. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but you seem like you might like having your hands still. Yeah?”
Dorian, who was already fidgeting with his hair again (undoing the braids, because they were pretty much a loss at this point) said, “oh. I might. I would, probably.” He tossed his hair back over his shoulder. “I absolutely would, actually.”
“Would you be comfortable with your hands behind your back for a while? Not everyone is okay with that, but you’re pretty flexible, and I, uh—“ he huffed a nervous laugh, “I don’t wanna cover up that pretty cutout.”
Dorian preened, shifting to show off his chest, which he was always fond of doing. “I can keep my hands behind my back,” he said.
“Okay, just—make sure you tell me if anything starts hurting. And stretch first. I’m not gonna do anything as complicated as what I did to Ash, so we can take you out of it if you don’t like it, but if you need out right away, that’s what the scissors are for.”
Dorian didn’t imagine that would be the case, but he liked knowing Orym was determined to keep him safe. “So, while I’m tied up, is that when you. Um.”
“Yeah,” Orym flashed him a grin that was surprisingly rakish for how sweet he’d been. “Yeah, it is.”
“Take his pants off first,” Ashton called, like he was heckling them.
“Oh, yeah, I don’t actually know how this works,” Orym plucked at his top. “Does it need to come off too?”
“There’s snaps,” Dorian said, feeling himself flush, his shoulders creeping toward his ears as the specifics of his clothing became the topic of conversation. “And there’s nothing under it.” He’d considered doing so, but his underwear would show, the cut of the hips on the bodysuit too high. And he hadn’t planned on taking the bodysuit off.
Now, looking at Orym’s face going slack with lust, he was grateful he had not worn underwear, even if it meant he had to be careful with how he sat, not wanting the snaps to dig in.
Everything shifted around him, the three of them focused on him alone. Will helped him stretch his shoulders and his arms, and Ashton slid his shorts off for him, but the rope was all Orym’s purview. He made a harness that crossed over Dorian’s chest and looped around his ribs, fixing his elbows to his sides and wrapping his wrists together.
Dorian leaned forward, trying to get a look at it, liking the way the crisscrossing lines brought attention to his chest.
“You look good,” Ashton said. “If that’s what you were worried about.”
“I wasn’t—I know,” Dorian said.
They knelt in front of him, grinning, and smoothed their hands down his front. “You know, huh.”
Dorian tossed his hair, which had been furling up in anxious thunderclouds. “I know,” he repeated. “Orym made me look pretty.”
“Gorgeous, actually,” Orym murmured, coming closer to lay kisses over Dorian’s jaw and neck.
Dorian leaned down to kiss Orym’s mouth and Will found the trailing free end of the rope and pulled, making Dorian straighten up. Orym slipped between Dorian and Ashton and looped his hands in the rope crossing over Dorian’s chest, kissing the skin left bare between the ropes and the seams of the bodysuit.
“Don’t keep my boyfriend waiting,” Ashton said, mouth to Orym’s ear. This time, Orym listened to their instruction.
He crouched down, and Ashton came in closer, grabbing Dorian’s hips and making him sit up so Orym could shift under him. Dorian worried this was somewhat awkward for Orym, but could look at nothing but Ashton.
Ashton looked like he was so fucking proud of Dorian. “Let me get this for you?”
Dorian nodded, and Ashton undid the bottom of the bodysuit, pulling it up and away to expose Dorian. All at once, Dorian remembered that they were not alone, and his eyes darted to scan the room, watching people engaged in their own little knots of activity, or crossing the room in front of them. How many of them would notice him? And what would they think?
“Hey, no.” Ashton grabbed Dorian’s face and turned him back towards them. “Don’t think about everybody else. It’s just us here, yeah? Just feel us.” They rested their hand on Dorian’s chest, feeling over the places where Orym had just kissed him.
Will leaned in, his hand winding around the tail of the rope. His lips brushed Dorian’s ear as he said, “pretty soon, he’s gonna forget anything else exists.”
And Dorian knew this was true, because Orym’s hands wrapped around his thighs and pulled him in, and Dorian’s mind went entirely blank.
“Yeah,” Ashton said. “That’s about what I thought. He’s pretty fucking good, isn’t he?”
Dorian couldn’t stand to look at their smug face, so he closed his eyes and leaned into their touch instead. He was coming unraveled faster than he ever could have imagine, but they had him. All of them. Will squeezed his bicep, just above the rope, his other hand still holding Dorian’s reins, and Ashton kissed his neck, nosing the high collar aside so there was more room for them to bite.
And Orym. Orym was so good at this, Dorian was quickly becoming incoherent. Will was right, the busy background faded into almost nothing, Dorian’s focus narrowed to the three of them around him.
And there was so much to focus on between three men. Six hands on him. Three mouths. Will’s tongue traced a shivering line up his ear while Orym sealed his lips around his cock and Ashton bared their teeth against his neck in a grin. Dorian’s mouth fell open, soundless, because he’d stopped breathing for the time being, and did not know when he would start again. They were going to get him off or drive him crazy, and he didn’t know which would happen first.
He could hear Will speaking, but it was muted over the rush of blood pounding in his ears. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he does that,” Ashton answered. “Means he’s out of his fuckin’ mind, thanks, Orym.”
“Oh! Good.” Dorian felt Will’s laugh reverberate against his back. Ashton bit at the edge of his jaw. “You think he’s close?”
“I think he’s fuckin’ been close.” Ashton grabbed Dorian’s face, his chin between their thumb and forefinger, and yanked him to meet their eye. “Come for us, Dorian.”
Dorian wanted to complain that they’d barely even started, he shouldn’t be this close already, but he absolutely was. Of course he was. He’d been turned on ever since he knelt beside Ashton, and his arousal had reached a fever pitch when all the attention turned to him. He felt his arms pull against the ropes without his conscious input.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Will said, his hot breath tickling the wet point of Dorian’s ear. “We’ve got you right where we want you. Let us see you, love.”
Orym’s hand squeezed his thigh. Ashton’s thumb dented his lower lip. Will’s teeth pressed into the sensitive skin of his ear.
Dorian’s hips juddered and he ground against Orym’s mouth, praying he wasn’t suffocating him as he rode out his orgasm, his breath expanding in his chest until he released a long, stripped-bare sound.
“Fuck,” Will said.
“Yeah. He’s always that hot,” Ashton said.
Dorian truly had no idea how Orym managed his way out from beneath him, but Orym was always quite resourceful. In any case, he got to watch a sweaty, red-faced, wet-mouthed Orym get the living daylights kissed out of him, and as he did, the whole club erupted into cheering.
Not, as Dorian’s addled mind initially assumed, because Orym’s performance there deserved applause, but because the countdown to the New Dawn had just concluded, and it was now the first of the year.
Just months ago, Dorian thought deliriously, he would have assumed he’d spend this holiday at another bland dinner with his parents, resisting the urge to down his flute of sparkling wine early just to get through the hours of listening to his mother trying to convince him to move back home. Weeks ago, he thought at best, he’d be dragged out to a bar by Dariax, shouting over pounding music while wistfully thinking about the rest of his friends and his boyfriend in the midst of these debaucherous festivities. Last night, he’d thought he might have a bit of a panic and hide in the corner for this whole event until it was time to go home.
Instead, he was being cleaned up and tended to by three people he held dear, escorted to a corner of the lounge room where they could all pile together in an exhausted heap, Dorian wearing Will’s hoodie, a pair of Opal’s hot pink workout shorts that she’d packed for “comfy time”, and his socks. Orym, a comfortable weight on his chest, was only in his boxers, and he was letting Dorian trace musical notes and looping patterns and big, curling hearts on his back.
“Mission fucking accomplished, I think,” said Ashton, who was stroking Dorian’s hair while Dorian’s head rested against their bare thigh.
“Mission?” Dorian said, while Will leaned over to high-five Ash.
“Uh-huh,” said Orym. “What’d you dumbasses call it?”
“Mission: get Orym and Dorian to quit dicking around and fuck each other’s brains out,” Ashton said.
“Mission: boyfriend acquisition: round two: hard mode,” Will suggested.
“How many colons were in that?” Orym muttered.
“You saying I’m easy?” Ashton demanded.
“Yes,” Orym, Dorian, and Will all chorused.
“Fuck, fine.” Ashton sagged back, their head thumping into the squashy cushion on the back of the couch.
There was a lapse as all of them fell into an exhausted silence.
“Technically,” Orym said, “I just fucked his brains out. We didn’t do each other. Gotta do that another time.”
“Fuuuck yes,” Ashton said, probably excited to have another constituent to his ‘get Dorian to wear a strap-on’ campaign.
Dorian added, very quietly, “…boyfriend?”
He expected another, ‘if you want,’ or, ‘sorry, Will’s moving too fast,’ from Orym, followed by an insistence from Will that he was not moving too fast, and yes, boyfriend.
Instead, Orym said, “please,” with such fervency, Dorian almost wanted to cry. “I’ve wanted that for so long.”
“Of course,” Dorian said, and Orym surged up to kiss him firmly, deeply, and like he was trying to make up for ages spent not kissing Dorian.
“Fucking hell,” Ashton muttered over their heads. “That’s the gayest thing I’ve ever seen, and there’s two girls going down on each other ten feet away.”
This just prompted them all to kiss Ashton, too.
— — —
Dorian didn’t do much else for the rest of the party, just socialized, ate some snacks, and clung on to whichever of his boyfriends (boyfriends!!) happened to be nearby. Orym did some very acrobatic rope tricks involving tying himself up and suspending himself from a massive overhead rig, which Will referred to as getting his zoomies out, and Ashton let Fearne and Opal pin them to the ground, step on them, and smack them with several increasingly threatening implements.
Dorian did like the heavy swish-thunk of Fearne’s weightiest flogger, though, and he especially liked the sounds that came out of Ashton when she used it.
Instead of returning home with Fearne and Opal, Dorian let Will drive him, Orym and Ashton back to their place. Will and Orym had a king-sized bed, and all four of them could pile into it, with Dorian between Will and Orym, Ashton at Orym’s back, an arm slung around them all.
It must have been nearing three in the morning by the time they settled. Dorian turned his head and found Orym’s eyes glittering back at him in the near-total darkness (Will, not a morning person, thought blackout curtains were a necessity, not a choice).
“I know you’re floating right now, but it’s not unusual to crash the next day,” Orym said.
“I know,” said Dorian, who had seen Ashton do so at least once now, overwrought with too much of a good thing and exhausted into sleeping most of the day away.
“Will you stay here tomorrow? So we can pick you up if you do?” Orym asked.
“Of course,” Dorian said dreamily, already drifting. “You all take such good care of me.”
Orym kissed him just on the tip of his nose.
The last thing Dorian remembered before falling asleep was Orym saying, “I love you,” into the dark, and Dorian returning a sleepy mumble of the same.