Page 3

Stop!

No matter how loudly Master Ez shouts from inside our shared mind, he’s not going to stop me. Half or whole, we will choose Cortez.

Cortez knows this is the universal truth.

Katya knows this is the universal truth.

Master Ez knows this is the universal truth.

I know it’s the universal truth.

Which means we all know it to be the universal truth.

There will be no reason to choose, since Katya’s pissed at us, pissed enough to leave us, even if we don’t know why. I mean, how many times have I irreparably harmed Katya? Any of those offenses are enough to dissolve any love she feels for us.

Stop!

Master Ez is not a happy camper. I imagine him pounding fists against the inside of my skull. Boom! Boom! Boom! Not only can I imagine it, it feels exactly like that too. The pounding migraine just about takes me to my knees.

Aaron is snarling like a caged tiger in the driver’s seat. “Ezra, whatever you’re doing, it’s my job to protect you from yourself.”

“It’s your job to protect me. Period. It’s Roarke’s job to protect me from myself.” Knock it off. Turn around. “Lucidity, that’s my name.”

“No, your name is Ezra right now ,” Aaron stresses, knowing who’s driving my actions as he drives my car. I make note how reliable and loyal the man is, since he doesn’t turn around like he wishes he could.

“Katya loathes Ez right now. Ava acts like he has leprosy. Cort told him to choose between him and Katya.”

“You’re talking in third-person, Ezra,” Aaron reminds me, as if I couldn’t tell by the booming in my skull.

Don’t!

In my psyche, I imagine a hand flying out to swat Master Ez’s mouth shut.

“Cort told Ezra he was gay–”

“Oh, fuck!” Aaron lays on the brakes to avoid driving straight through a red light. Seatbelt engaging, I’m yanked back to the seat after flying forward toward the dash. “That explains why the diabolical, rainbow-wearing, unicorn fairy is driving the bus.”

“Don’t be a bigot,” I chastise, finding the slurs cute.

“I’m not being a bigot– I’m addressing the insane unicorn in the car.”

“Cort’s possessive.”

“No shit. That’s why he hates me so much.”

“You know we’ll choose Cortez, try to find a happy medium with an enraged Katya, and life will go on. Cortez will dictate who Ez can and can’t have as friends. Then no one will get laid.”

“Cort’s a horny bastard– you’ll get laid more if it’s just you and him. You’ve gone through most of your adult life suffering in celibacy. At least now it’s the right gender for you.”

“As soon as Cort told Ez he was gay, I saw my life drying up.”

“You are obsessed with Cortez– I don’t get it.”

Aaron stops the SUV in Restraint’s rear parking lot.

“Cort doesn’t share.” Don’t say it aloud! “Lord, Master Ez is enraged right now.” Smirking, I imagine myself flipping him off. No more pussy for you– cocksucking for me . “Until we choose, I’m free to enjoy the last night of freedom. Whitt and Dalton were negotiated on. Katya is forever fucking Dexter–”

“No, she’s not–”

“Yes, she is–”

“No. She’s. Not.”

“Saying it over and over doesn’t make it truth.”

“Exactly,” Aaron mutters with satisfaction.

“Cortez allowed Marcus to fuck him–”

“Holy fuck!” Aaron’s on the verge of escaping the car, fearing for his life. How cute is that?

“I want mine. I want to fuck those hot gay boys. Fuck and be fucked and suck and be sucked and just–”

“Have a gay ol’ time?”

“Yes, thank you, you bigot. Raymond would be proud how you picked up the jargon he threw down.”

“Low blow, asshole.”

“Mind your elder,” is an icy reminder. “As ecstatic as I am about Ez and Cortez riding off into the sunset.” Fuck. You . “Master Ez is positively overjoyed,” I mutter sarcastically. I will tap a pussy source, you cocksucker. “Cort won’t share. He’ll love sharing, but he’s too terrified. What could be more delicious than two hot gay boys worshipping your cock?”

“Jesus, even I see your sick and disgusting point.” Drawing in a large breath, Aaron unhooks his seatbelt, then turns to me. “Want me to stand in the hallway while you do what you need to do?”

“Thank you.”

“Ez is going to feel sick about this, you get that, right? He’ll feel like he cheated on both Katya and Cortez.” Blue eyes narrowed, it’s adorable how Aaron thinks he can talk sense into me. “Remember the maze? Ez is still foggy on those details.”

Oh, shit!

“What did you do, Master Ez?!” is bellowed both inside my head and out my mouth. “Oh, we are so getting fucked good and hard by a juicy dick! It’s no wonder Katya wants to cut my cock off. How could you fuck Regina? Again!”

“Oh, shit.”

“Master Ez’s thoughts exactly,” is seethed at Aaron. Here, have the details . Gloating, Master Ez projects flashes of Regina and the maze into my head, when he’d previously made it appear as a therapy session. “I don’t care if we regret it, because I won’t. Just like Master Ez doesn’t regret fucking Regina, but we do.”

“Cort will probably murder you in your sleep once he finds out.” Aaron keeps pace with me as I charge across the parking lot to the back door at Alt.

We’re one of the only ones who has access to the security code. Quickly tapping in the code Dr. Zeitler was provided, I navigate the steps with a nagging baby following my every step.

“Remember how Cort reacted when you fucked Dexter?”

“Yes, Master Ez hated me for years after that because it made Ez sad.”

“Please stop doing that third-person shit.” Aaron’s hand lands on my shoulder to stop me. “Please listen. You’re terrifying when you get like this. We’ll be late to the Christmas party.”

“No, we won’t.” I try a few smiles on for size, with Master Ez assisting by projecting how we smile when we’re bonded together. Master Ez is sorry over lying to us about the maze, so he’s being helpful for once. Hand poised to knock, “You can take the pups for a walk around the park– we should be done before the party starts.”

“Hey,” Dalton purrs as he opens the door. He likes playing with fire, and I’m going to singe his ass tonight. “Oh! Hi, Aaron.”

“Hey, bud.” Aaron crouches to catch the wiggling potato-shaped puppies before they escape. “I’m just here as the dog-walker while Ezra chats with you guys.”

“Wow, thank you.” Dalton blushes, hand reaching out of view, only to return with leashes and harnesses. “Merry Christmas.”

“You too, bud.” Aaron won’t look at me, thinking it a mistake, so he busies himself with the dogs. It’s not the first time he’s been relegated to dog-walker, but the first time when it wasn’t Dr. Zeitler spending time with Whitt and Dalton.

“Where’s Daniel?” I quickly ask, then realize only I call him Daniel. We call him Whitt or Pretty boy.

“Shower.” Dalton murmurs, while looking over his shoulder to get a better listen. “He’ll be out shortly, though. Visit or therapy?”

“Both,” I answer, entering their loft. Closing the door behind me, I don’t bother to make sure Aaron is doing as he’s told. Aaron’s loyal like that. With that being said, he’ll call Roarke for backup as soon as he’s out of earshot.

Roarke has a different type of loyalty than Aaron, one where he will enter Whitt and Dalton’s bedroom to drag my ass out of it. I’ll attempt to fight back, experiencing nothing but mortification and shame, while Roarke treats me as a misbehaving child.

Hair damp, sweats clinging invitingly to his swinging package, the man in question steps out into the living room. “Oh, hi!” Whitt greets me with a cheery smile, happy to see me visiting. Experiencing nothing but guilt, I want to yank my still beating heart from my chest and hand it to him in apology. “Boring over at Restraint?” He assumes I was in the neighborhood.

“Deathly,” flows out as a dramatic grumble. “Only the perverse fuckers frequent a BDSM club on Christmas night. Everyone we know is preparing for the Christmas party.”

“I don’t know if we should go.” Whitt shares a look with Dalton, a look I’m pleased to notice. They’re a bonded couple now, able to communicate with a look alone. “It’s been peaceful not taking responsibility for their actions these past few months.”

Whitt relaxes by leaning against the back of the sofa, nothing but curiosity shading his expression. “What’s up, Ezra? Shouldn’t you be with your family?”

“We made breakfast for Marcus and Regina this morning.” Dalton runs a hand across Whitt’s back as he moves farther into the living room, allowing me to step away from the door. “It was nice spending time with my sister– Mom even scuttled across the parking lot to make an appearance.”

“I thought Regina was going to slaughter Olivia.” Whitt snorts, but I find no enjoyment in his dark humor. “Everyone was pressing us to go to the party tonight.”

Tell him!

Ignoring Master Ez on principle alone– Ez would want them to know .

“Fine!” is growled both inside my head at Master Ez and at the two men staring at me gape-mouthed. We’ve been even lately, an integrated personality. They’ve never experienced just me or Master Ez.

“The Christmas party is both the dissolution of Ma?tre du Jeu and a bloodline tree.” Slumping to the nearest chair, I hold my head in my hands. Either Master Ez is pissed at me, or the stress is giving me a migraine.

“All the destruction around Dominion is coming from an outside source with ties to one of our families. I’ve done what you’re both doing, going about my life while I allow everyone to clean up the messes they made. Faith has organized it, Gwen will be recording our bloodlines, and Wil will be administering DNA tests upon arrival.”

“Mon dieu!” is obviously exclaimed from Dalton, his face paler than my own for once. “Levi kept pressing me to go, but I thought it was about being a family, not about MdJ.”

“No fucking wonder.” Whitt slumps harder against the back of the sofa. “I just want this all to be over. Niel needs me, but when I attempt to help him, everyone else starts bugging me about what they need.”

“That’s why we didn’t want to go to the party, where they will all be in an enclosed space.” Dalton reaches over to rub the back of his partner’s neck. “It’s not too bad when it’s just me, but as soon as they spot Whitt, they run right at him with a list of demands.”

“If we could have just had Spyder, Niel, and Ella over for breakfast, we would have, but Marcus, Regina, and Olivia are a package deal.”

“And here I am, bringing my shit to your doorstep.” Head in hands, I stare down at the rug. “I’m sorry. I should leave.”

Manipulator!

“Oh, no.” Dalton hurries over to me. “You’ve helped us so much, unlike the rest of them who just want something from us.”

“What do you need, Ez?” Whitt’s voice is open with curiosity. “Why aren’t you with your family?”

Idiots! They played into your hands. Ez is going to be furious when we rejoin as one.

Ignoring Master Ez, he gets that this isn’t all manipulation. We truly need a friend. “All my secrets are being revealed– I don’t know how or by who, but it’s obvious my wife knows now. Ava’s not speaking to me. The twins are picking up on it. And Cort…”

“ And Cort what?” Dalton prompts, palm falling to land on my nape, fingertips squeezing in comfort. “What’s happening?”

Lifting my eyes to connect to Whitt’s, I watch as the wheels spin in his head.

Devastated, none of it an act, Master Ez is slowly trying to weave himself into me to form Ez, but I push him out, not wanting his comfort, knowing it brings his pain too. That’s why we fracture, because half the pain is easier to handle than experiencing all of it.

We deserve the consequences of our actions, but the pain is too much to bear.

“Cort gave me an ultimatum– him or Katya.”

“Whoa…” Dalton flows down to sit on the balls of his feet, hand resting on my knee. “What are you going to do?”

“Knowing you…” Whitt drawls, a sly smirk flirting with his lips. “Knowing Katya… You’ll choose Cort, because Katya will take the choice out of your hands. But you’re holding onto hope that you’ll find a happy medium, so you lose nothing in the end.”

BINGO!

Hush, Master Ez! It’s what we all want, and you know it.

“I just want everyone to be happy.”

“Well, as Dr. Zeitler has told us countless times.” Whitt winks at me. “Happiness starts from within. No one can make anyone happy but themselves. It’s a journey of self. What do you want, Ez?”

“A distraction from the pain,” blurts out before I can stop it.

If you do this, you must make me a promise.

What?

This is the last time. I vow to never fracture us apart as long as you do the same. Do it for Ez. Ez’s happiness. Our happiness.

I promise.

“You want us to be your distraction?” Whitt catches on quickly, causing Dalton’s fingertips to clench on my knee.

“Cort asked for me to choose, but he doesn’t play fair.” Fingertips roughly combing through my hair, I take out my frustrations. “He admitted he was gay, and then just walked out, like he hadn’t bombed our lives.”

“Fucking hell!”

“Mon dieu!

“I’m terrified, because we’re on the cusp of getting everything we ever wanted, but someone will lose, and I don’t just mean Katya. We love her–”

We? You’re losing it. They will notice.

“I love her. I desire her, even if no one believes me.” Eyes flicking up to gaze at Whitt, I know he gets it after how he’s always regrettably felt about Regina. “It’s true.”

“I believe you– anyone with eyes in their head can see what you feel for Kat.” Unblinking, Whitt holds my eyes as if he’s holding me together. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, but I know our lives will irrevocably change after all this. After the party. Tomorrow. I don’t want to miss out on something that should be my reward.”

Filthy laughter flows with a French-accented twist. “You came to get fucked, didn’t you?”

Across the living room from me, I watch the transformation take place, as Whitt’s pupils are blown, face flushing with a wash of lust. “Are you going to regret it.”

“No.”

No? Are you sure Ez won’t? Even I’m relenting, but Ez will still feel like he cheated on Cort. Remember Dexter?

Shush. I have a long game.

You think Cortez will want to flex his newly realized gayness, don’t you?

Shush.

This is why Marcus is losing his shit.

No, Marcus is losing his shit because he needs a job, a life, and a home of his own, with a partner and kids.

Liar.

Eye roll. Pot calling kettle black, Master Ez.

You allowed everyone to think it was me who raped Regina, remember?

It wasn’t me, asshole. It was us.

Shit! I did the maze as retaliation and it wasn’t even you. Goddamnit!

Us. Now shut up. I’m about to lay the groundwork. Hope you enjoy cock, because if we keep our promise to integrate, we’re going to be drowning in semen for the rest of our days.

Oh, I’ll get mine, and you’re going to just sit back and not bitch about it.

Shush. Let me enjoy this and I promise to help us keep Katya, and I’ll even enjoy the payoff.

Lips sealed. Key thrown away.

“We know what you need.” Dalton guides me to my feet, both of us looking at Whitt, as he silently communicates with Dalton. “We’ll be in charge tonight.”

“It’s about time.” With a shift nod, Whitt turns on his heel to walk into his bedroom. The boy I used to know has strengthened over the past few months since he hasn’t allowed others to siphon that strength away.

It’s comforting. As dominant in everyday life as I am, in the bedroom is where I let shit go and relax by allowing others to take control. The problem with this is how Cortez is not dominant in any part of life, in or out of the bedroom.

Topping and bottoming in BDSM and life is not the same as in gay sex.

I’m a dominant who enjoys a power-exchange in bed, but I’m all bottom when it comes to sex, willing to top once in a while out of curiosity. Cort is submissive in and out of bed, topping in sex because he’s terrified of losing the semblance of control it offers.

We fit, but we don’t.

After working with Whitt and Dalton for months on end, there is no confusion in them, accepting and acknowledging who they are and what they need from each other. I want what they have, and I want it with Cortez. They give me hope of a better future.

Led through the living room, then into the bedroom, Dalton releases my hand, only to place both palms on my chest. With a forceful shove, I land on my back, bouncing slightly on the mattress. Playful laughter I don’t feel slips past my parted lips.

Gazing up to the ceiling, I try to check in with Master Ez, but he’s silent. I don’t get a disappointed or frustrated vibe– it’s almost as if he’s giving me privacy as a sign of good faith after our agreement. This is a last-hoorah as me , because from now on it’s going to be us .

“You seem really out of it, Ez.” Whitt’s whisper is as loud as a gunshot. “More so than usual.” He stares down at me in concern as I lay in the center of their bed.

“Let’s fuck Ezra together.” Dalton’s newfound confidence is intoxicating. As an explanation point on his comment, he reaches to caress my thigh, a scant inch from my increasing bulge. “Cort doesn’t play well with others.” A filthy chuckle has lust firing in my veins, as Dalton silently communicates words that aren’t spoken. “Let’s not ruin our only chance.”

“You’re serious?” Whitt looks between me and Dalton, gauging, licks his lips, then prowls closer.

Arching my hips in anticipation, I’m starving for their touch. Cort and I have been having fun, as if there’s something from holding us back, and that something is named Katya. Katya won’t let me touch her at all. But I’m starved with skin-hunger, the need for touch that doesn’t have an emotional cost.

Looking stunned, Whitt stands near the side of the bed, gaping down at me, watching my reaction as Dalton strips Whitt of his sweats and t-shirt. A husky laugh not sounding as if it came from me rumbles up my throat as Dalton eagerly yanks his own clothes off.

Pulsing with every heartbeat, jerking to tap his belly, rock-hard, Dalton is addicted to the rush of being naughty. Asking your fiancé to engage in a threesome with your therapist is the epitome of naughty.

Knowing the secret desires hiding in the deep recesses of Dalton’s mind is a turn-on for me. He’s filled with untapped passions yet to be explored, beyond eager to have a sip or a taste before agreeing to feast on the entire meal.

Tonight, I am more than a sip or a taste.

I am the meal.

After five months of constant companionship, Dalton is completely comfortable around me. Vibrant and excited, he holds nothing back. It’s innocent yet naughty at the same time– addictive as hell and scorching hot. Dalton is pure sex I crave. As he teases the boy-next-door, the difference is enticing. Between the two of them, everything I could ever desire is standing before me.

Wistful, I wish Cortez was with us, to at least witness it, if not join in.

Dalton may be small, but his muscles have gained definition over the past few months. Pale, pierced, scarred, and inked, he has a bad boy air about him. Onyx hair swings around his face, hiding then revealing those devastating, soul-piercing green eyes. That monster cock of his makes me salivate.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Whitt is nothing short of perfection. Tan. Silky skin covering long, lean muscles, there isn’t a hair on his body. Daniel Whittenhower II is exquisitely formed.

Together, Whitt and Dalton balance– the perfect and the flawed, creating an unbreakable partnership and the hottest fantasy I could ever imagine.

These gorgeous boys– for once, reality is better than fantasy.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Whitt inspects my face, trying to get a read on my emotions.

“Remember lying in bed at night, feeling devastating loneliness? Well, I don’t have to be in bed to feel it. I’ve been alone since Ray stole me while Cort slept on peacefully, even far before then, back to when I found out I was Raymond Hunter’s son– Cort’s first-cousin. My life has never been the same, no matter how hard I try to recapture it. What was between Cort and me was destroyed and forced Katya to be bonded to us for life. All I want is to take a deep breath and not have it destroy someone I love.”

Out of nowhere, Dalton roughly fists Whitt’s hair, as if to get him to shut up and quit asking questions. I fear Whitt’s dominant nature rising at Dalton’s rough handling, but he has a wide grin on his face. Silently laughing, dimples dented, Whitt gets off on Dalton tugging him to the bed.

If Cort’s and my personalities complement one another, Whitt and Dalton’s are too much alike. Both dominant beings, where Dalton is a masochist and Whitt is not a sadist. But witnessing them be playfully forceful and finding joy in it is refreshing.

Dalton being naughty and strong was a happy surprise– positively diabolical. He’d have to be, or else Whitt would steamroll over him.

“Suck him off,” Dalton commands, fingers twisted into a laughing Whitt’s hair. “I want to watch you swallow him whole,” he salaciously purrs, French accent deepening.

“Holy shit!” is a surprised hiss. Being helpful, I arch off the bed to aid in the removal of my clothing. The boys play fight over who gets to divest me of what articles of clothing, filling my heart with light and warmth.

Carefree and stress-free, no payments nor demands. Recapturing my lost youth.

Fingers curling, Dalton’s small hand wraps around the base of my cock. Neither has ever touched it. My eyes widen in surprise as Dalton wiggles my cock around with one hand while forcing Whitt’s head down with his other. Hot breath sears my skin as Whitt’s hysterical laughter bubbles up his throat over Dalton’s demands.

“Do a good job,” Dalton warns Whitt, serious voice betrayed by his wide grin. “And you–” he points one finger at me, the rest remain wrapped around my cock. “–you don’t move. Just lay there. You’ve earned the attention.”

“I like this side of you,” is supposed to be teasing but comes out more as a groan. “No longer willing to kneel at anyone’s feet– so fucking hot.”

“Don’t close your eyes,” Dalton warns us in a commanding tone. “Whitt, I’m pretty sure you’re only the second guy to have the pleasure of your lips wrapped around this dick. Isn’t that right, Ez?”

Excited to the point I nearly panic, I check in with Master Ez, finding his silence disturbing. What I discover is a bloated with contentment Master Ez, finding pleasure not in the act about to happen, but in how blissed out and happy it will make us when we’re whole.

Ez wants this as much as I do, there’s no ifs, ands, or buts about it, no matter Cort’s unfavorable reaction.

Mind struggling as I watch Whitt’s face zero in on my twitching cock, saucer-sized blue eyes hold my undivided attention. Tongue curling around my cockhead, the wet heat is surreal. A moan rumbles deep from my chest. All muscles releasing at once, I fall lax to the mattress.

Gaze flicking with uncertainty toward Dalton, I need him to be okay with his partner touching me. Respecting both boys, caring deeply for them, I never want to push them apart. Dalton winks at me, eyes glitter with lust.

I’ve taught them well, the difference between play, intimacy, and real life. The three of us, we’re a combination of play and friendship, which is its own kind of intimacy.

“Don’t be a tease.” Dalton gasps breathlessly, growing impatient. “Suck it.”

I’m unable to watch, finding it far too intense. Spine bowing, fingers clawing the bedspread, mouth open in ecstasy, I writhe as Whitt takes me inside his body. Silky soft, moist heat encloses my throbbing dick, a hot tongue swirling around the tip.

“Don’t get me off!” releases on a hiss as my back arches off the mattress. Try as I might, I lock all my muscles down. “It’s too much– I have other activities in need of my hard dick.”

“You heard the man, he wants to be teased.” Dalton is a mischievous nymph. “Don’t use all your oral skills.” I arch a brow at that, knowing what our Pretty Boy is capable of when he employs that suction hose of a mouth.

Twenty-six seconds is Whitt’s record.

Impressive. Even our cocksucker Cort can’t do that.

The intimacy is insanity, knowing this is a second for both of us. Other than Dalton, Whitt’s blown no one but me. Other than Cortez, no one has blown me but Whitt. Even at my age, this is a big step for me, one I didn’t take lightly. Once whole, Ez is going to feel guilty but secretly pleased.

Naughty chuckles fill my head, Master Ez enjoying himself with the corner I’ve painted myself in.

Eyes slipping shut, I cannot deny the instinctive drive to flex my hips in a rocking motion as Whitt slowly worships my cock. Perspiration beads my skin, cooling immediately, as I struggle to stave off my release. Toes curling, muscles contracting, my panting breath echoes around the bedroom.

Small hands turn greedy, fingers skating over my skin, feasting after months of starvation. I’ve been hungry for attention, but the boys have been hungry for me. Every time I denied their touch, I knew it would ramp up their desires to have me in their bed.

“Ugh!” a grunt of shock is torn from my throat. “Dalton, I fucking love that– don’t stop!” Demand turning into a heady moan, Dalton sucks a deep mark on my thigh, working his way north. My blood boils as his soft mouth envelops my sack– warm, wet suction has me quivering in delight. My eyelids become so heavy nothing could pry them apart. Arching my neck, chuckles mingle with moans of pleasure.

“Holy hell!” I cry out in agony, body wigging out on me. “You’re both amazing at this.”

“You taught us well, Dr. Zeitler.” Whitt grumbles wryly around my cock, the reverberation vibrating along my shaft to strike me in the nuts. Dalton’s tongue joins the erotic suction. Awed, I prop myself up on my elbows to get a better view of the boys making out, tongues dueling on my cock. The sight is a lightning strike to my balls, threatening to force me to lose control.

“Shift to the side.” Dalton purrs, hands pushing his partner at an angle. After some maneuvering, I’m back in a near-orgasmic state of bliss. Whitt is working his magic on my dick and the soft warmth of Dalton is near my thighs.

“The fuck?” hisses from between my clenched teeth as ice-cold liquid pours down my balls, moistening my crack. My eyes flip open to notice how Dalton is kneeling between my spread thighs. He’s wearing a shit-eating grin on his gorgeous face, with a bottle of lube clutched in his hand. Small fist squeezing the bottle, my eyes latch onto the stream flowing to drip onto my groin.

Oh, fuck!

Master Ez interrupts, more awe than terror ringing inside my head, as realization dawns. That twelve-inch cock is going to impale us. Master Ez is silent with perverse interest, both of us realizing we’re slowly weaving back together, tighter than we ever were, even as a child. My fear is lessened, Master Ez’s squeamishness over cock is no more, as we meld into one integrated personality.

Dalton is a glorious sight– glowing otherworldly eyes, messy raven hair, a ruby-kissed smirk, and a cock that could tear a lesser man in half.

Size queen.

Startled, I realize that was not Master Ez’s voice ringing inside my head, because there was a note of my own overlapping it.

“Did I just die and go to heaven?” is incoherently mumbled, as a pair of filthy laughs flow from above me.

“I have to see this.” Eyes blown, tan skin tinted pink with lust, Whitt kneels at my side as he grabs the bottle of lube from Dalton’s hand. “Go slow– make it last.”

No matter how badly I hunger to watch, my eyes slip shut at the agonizing pleasure of Dalton penetrating me in the most intimate of ways. After six months of constant companionship, I infallibly trust them. Both of them can do whatever the fuck they want to me, and I’d gladly take it with a smile on my face.

Thanks to how amorous Cortez has been lately, there’s no pain or struggling. Silky smooth, Dalton’s hard length slides inside me without a fight. A building scream from the sweet agony gets caught in my throat, body beading with goose flesh as electrical shocks prick my nerves. My skin tightens to the point my bones feel compressed. Fine hairs raise against the back of my neck. Eyelids fluttering, I try to control the movement, because I want nothing more than to watch Dalton’s cock pull my flesh taut.

Kneeling between my thighs, rising and lowering above me, a sheen of sweat glistens on Dalton’s inked masterpiece of a chest. Crimson mouth opened to release a guttural groan, Dalton slowly pumps into me with a rolling wave of his hips. His eyes continually flick between mine, Whitt’s, and the junction of our bodies. Dalton appears to be in awe, shocked that he’s actually inside me.

“You–” I swallow hard. “You are the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen,” is whispered in raspy wonder. Tattoos span Dalton’s chest, all dark ink with only a hint of color, which pops from the pale canvas.

Expié

Racheté

Transformé .

Atoned, Redeemed, Transformed is etched into Dalton’s skin, slightly above the shiny silver glinting in his nipples. It never fails to arouse me, the sight of the thorny crown riding an inch above that impressive cock. As I stare, so does Whitt. We both look in utter amazement that this man is real. Dalton gazes back at us like we’re crazy, all the while shaking his head and laughing.

“Stroke his dick,” Dalton chuckles the command, his dominant persona suddenly turning bashful under our gaze. “Use the slippery stuff.” Ducking his head, he kisses my knee, attempting to block our sight of his blushing face.

“Wouldn’t want to give Dalton an ego or anything.” Whitt releases as a taunting breath while squeezing cool liquid all over my twitching cock.

Shivering and groaning from the cold pleasure, my body wigs out on me. Whitt’s abrupt laughter flutters all around us, simply because I jackknife off the bed from his hot palm connecting with my cooling flesh.

“Dalton is spectacular, though,” Whitt mumbles, eyes darting to his bashful fiancé, who’s hiding his crimson face against my knee, inky hair acting as a veil. A heartbeat before he rises, Dalton’s lips spread into a wide grin against my skin– flashes us a look of pure sin.

“Good and wet?” Dalton asks our Pretty Boy, his dominance returning even though he’s still blushing. Dalton’s small hand grips me, then gives a strong tug, and I nearly spill into his palm from the simple touch. “Perfect,” he purrs in a rolling lilt, accented in French. “Hop on. Your choice who you wanna face.”

“OH. MY. GOD.” Eyes popping wide, my tongue ceases to release words, nonsense echoing around the bedroom.

OH! MY! GOD! begins echoing around inside my head, no doubt knocking into the important shit that controls my ability to form words. We’re in the middle! Pretty Boy is allowing you to top him, and Dalton ordered it. Is this our version of heaven, or what?

Neck muscles straining, Whitt tips his head back to guffaw at the ceiling, and I wonder if Master Ez was speaking in my head or if I was saying it aloud. The fact that Master Ez is in orgasmic bliss should tip me off to the fact that my tongue is not broken, and that we’re dangerously close to becoming the whole Ez.

“Dude, I promise you’re still alive– no need to pray.” Laughing so hard, tears are escaping, Whitt manages to smear copious amount of Whittenhower precum all over my hip as he gets into position. “We’ve been choreographing this out in our fantasies for months. There was no way in hell you were getting out of our bed without being sandwiched.” He purrs against my cheek, breath scorching my flesh. “I volunteered to be the bottom, because I’ve wanted you to be inside me since I figured out I was gay.”

Fingers clenching the bedspread, I grit my teeth and call upon Master Ez to help me stop the release that’s threatening to flood up my cock. I gain control, simply because I realize there is barely anything tangible left of Master Ez as he slowly weaves into me.

“Ez, I want to watch your face as I slide onto your dick,” Whitt murmurs as he straddles my hips. His thick thighs are a heavy press of comfort, the warming sensation has me groaning in ecstasy. “This way we can both see you, and Dalton can hug my back while he strokes me off.” Speaking over his shoulder at Dalton, “Prop Ez up for me so I can slide down.”

Lying on my back, with Dalton kneeling between my wide-spread thighs, foot-long cock spearing my ass, my heels press into the mattress for leverage. Whitt hovers over my groin, the inside of his thighs pressing against my hips, waiting to take me into his body. This is an experience of a lifetime, one I will not regret but will most certainly feel guilty over, depending on Cort’s reaction.

All I can say is, “Oh, my God!” on repeat as Dalton does as he was requested. A hand grips my base while Whitt slowly inches down my cock until I’m deeply rooted inside him. That supple body eagerly embraces my cock, searing insane pleasure into my flesh.

“Holy fuck!” is a wheezing hiss from between clenched teeth, as Whitt begins to ride my hips in a wavelike motion. With all my might, I fight the undeniable urge to let go in all ways, but it would shortchange us. Unbidden, my palms find their way to Whitt’s strong hips, nails biting into his creamy smooth flesh.

Transfixed, I can’t tear my gaze away from the sight before me, where it manages to overpower my sensation of touch. The boys are breathtaking, mouths agape as they pant from their exertions.

From behind, Dalton palms the front of Whitt’s throat, rearing him back for a sweet kiss. I stare as their lips flutter against one another, slowly building in passion. Mouths and tongues lovingly duel in erotic splendor.

What little is left of Master Ez shuts my mind down before I tunnel into the abyss for a disastrous walk down memories’ past. I catch sight of half a dozen images of Cort and me in a similar embrace. His hand on my chest, lips pressed to my ear as he pants his release and fires hot inside me. I close my eyes to the sight, just barely keeping the tears at bay.

Eyes held wide in wonder, I play voyeur as Whitt and Dalton make love while using me as a conduit. I quickly stomp down the reminder that I’ve done this to three women in my life, and that I deserve Karma’s swift kick to the nuts. Faith. Regina.

Katya.

A glint of something catches my attention, drawing me from my mind to the gorgeous flesh riding my cock. Whitt lifts his arm, fingers stroking Dalton’s silky locks. I gasp in surprise, causing two sets of eyes to stare at me for the outburst. Whitt smiles widely as he follows the direction of my gaze.

“Dalton received enough of them– I figured he’d ace giving them.” Whitt teases both Dalton and me, fingers stroking the tattoos flowing from his armpit to hip. His broad arm had hidden them from my sight this whole time, but in my defense, I’ve been distracted.

King is etched in italicized letters, vertically spanning Whitt’s entire side from armpit to hip, text wrapping around an artistically rendered queen piece, which no doubt represents Dalton. Scattered beneath, tiny chess pieces rest where my fingers bit in earlier. Dozens of chess pieces, each with a name– Whitt’s version of retelling the history of our lives.

“I’m a king on your chessboard?” is numbly murmured in awestruck wonder. “Adore how Regina’s Queen is red instead of black. Who belongs to the largest king butted up against the red king?” Reaching forward, I reverently glide my fingers over the tattoo as the knowledge lights inside my head. “Whoa… if Marcus doesn’t end up in Wintercrest after he finds out what we’re doing, you’ll have to show him the tattoos. I wonder if your dad is okay with being cast in Marc’s shadow?”

“Do you like it?” Dalton asks, chin resting on Whitt’s shoulder. His inky hair is a disaster next to that golden blond perfection, making him even more irresistible.

“It’s incredible. Pretty Boy finally has an edge, no more smooth lines and polite words.”

“I think you’ve had enough inside your head time,” Dalton knowingly murmurs, a thick lace of lashes slowly blinking. “Make-out while we fuck Ez,” is a demand growled, then he pushes Whitt forward into my arms.

I catch a laughing Pretty Boy, blue eyes sparking with a combination of humor and lust as he gazes down at me. They both exude freedom and enlightenment, and it makes me proud to be a part of their journey together.

“I like how I feel when I look at you guys,” are the last words I speak for a long while.

Letting everything go, unleashing my true nature, with a feral growl, I grab a hank of Whitt’s blond hair, pulling him down to my lips. Feasting at his mouth, my hands devour his flesh. Fingertips biting into Whitt’s masculine ass, I thrust my hips, managing to fuck and be fucked by both of them.

The indescribable sensation of being deeply rooted inside Whitt’s hot ass, with Dalton’s beast of a cock stretching me to my limit, is something I will never forget for the rest of my days. Even if I only get to experience it once, it will be worth it.

The three of us fall into the rhythm of complete and total abandon.

No judgment.

No shame.

Just pure, unadulterated pleasure with friends we trust.

No pretending. I bare myself raw, revealing the real Ez. I thought I’d taught the boys about love, life, and being gay, but they provided me with a more valuable lesson. They taught me to be real. From this moment forth, no more pretending. The rawest parts of me no longer wish to be hidden in the depts of my mind, behaviors excused due to mental illness.

It’s me.

Ezra.

Master Ez.

We are Ez.

I am them– they are me.

Visions: flashes of flesh-on-flesh, crimson-stained lips from rough kisses, writhing limbs, pale skin marked from bites, scratches, and ink, the glint of metal piercings. Sounds: moans, whimpers, the pound of my heart within my ears, the sharp hiss of breath between clenched teeth, and the clasp of bodies making contact. Scent: undeniably male and highly intoxicating.

An agonizing moan is yanked from my soul, spine bowing, fingers biting into whatever is beneath them. I feel three heartbeats, and for once it’s not me, myself, and I. My heart rapidly beats within my chest, Dalton’s erratically flutters inside me, and Whitt’s rhythmically beats around my cock.

From one breath to the next, three men erupt. Primal moans fill the air as a hot wash of semen flows inside me, outside me, and from me.

Screaming away my pain, and the pressure and stress as I climax, a heavy weight lands on me, smothering the agony spilling from my throat. In a move I’ve perfected, but they have not, I kiss them both at the same time. I drink their sweetness, innocence, and goodness down, and allow it to wash the evil away.

“You’re probably going to hear some bad shit about me at the Christmas party,” is rasped in a hoarse, broken voice. “I have no idea what Faith has planned, so please forgive me in advance.”

Whitt dismisses my fears with a kiss to my forehead. “I know you inside and out, Ez– you’re flowing from my body as we speak. I am far from ignorant of the inner workings of this city and her founders.”

With a deep breath, I accept the Christmas gifts they are giving me.

Acceptance. Faith. Trust.