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Ethan manages to put up with the purrs and blanket-kneading for an hour and a half before deciding to take matters into his own hands.
He knows Chris ordered them to wait for him to return from taking Rosemary to Claire’s. He knows Chris won’t be happy if they get started without him. He knows Chris can’t control the weather, and the fact that he is probably trapped in a rain-induced traffic jam isn’t his fault. But if there’s anything that he has learnt from his years spent with the BSAA’s two best agents, it is reading Piers’ body language (when he isn’t putting on his human mask, that is; it is a whole other matter), and the blanket-kneading, the purring, the furrow of his brows, the pout on his lips, the fact that he doesn’t even bother to maintain the shape of his right arm - all of them tell Ethan that Piers is unhappy. Probably from missing Chris very terribly, a sentiment that Ethan himself shares, but getting Piers to respond is a totally different matter.
‘Piers, you alright?’
A stupid question, of course, but a necessary one to gauge how far into his own head Piers has retreated to; if detaching oneself from reality was an art form, Piers would be a master of it, and Chris would be the only key to wherever Piers locked himself into. For years, Ethan tried to replicate the key.
Now he just lets nature run its course.
Piers’ ears twitch. Combined with how his purring intensifies, Ethan is pretty sure that he heard him and that his answer is ‘not fine at all,’ so he doesn’t even ask, climbs onto the bed, sits down behind Piers slightly to his left, and wraps his arms around Piers’ waist. Resting his head on Piers’ good shoulder, he takes note of the crisscrossing veins he can see showing through the back of Piers’ hand, and it is cold as expected when he touches it. His hand then snakes into Piers’ hoodie which he is pretty sure he stole from Chris from how big it is; even the skin there is cold, too.
‘Let’s get under the covers,’ Ethan says as he starts unfolding the blanket Piers has been kneading. He never understands how Piers manages to be constantly cold no matter how hot his surroundings are, but just like the different… abilities the mould gave him, he has learnt not to ask, not because he isn’t curious, but because there is probably no answer at all. ‘It’ll be warmer that way.’
Piers grabs onto the blanket so that Ethan can’t spread it out. A firm ‘no,’ then.
‘You’re cold. Chris won’t be happy if you get sick.’
Piers’ hand continues kneading the section of the blanket he is holding onto. His right hand loses even more of its form and is now a soft, translucent, jelly-like tentacle hanging on his side. ‘But I don’t want to fall asleep,’ he pouts, his eyes half-lidded.
‘We’ll just be lying in bed.’
‘And I’ll fall asleep, and Chris will feel bad for waking me up, and we won’t get anything done.’
Ethan can’t argue with Piers’ reasoning. As much energy as Piers has in the field, when he crashes, he crashes hard - especially when he is in the comfort of their home - and waking him up will only make him grumpy, and grumpy Piers is usually not up for any useful communication, let alone sex with the people who had the audacity to disturb him. This is their first weekend alone in a long time, and it would be a shame if they spent half of it fucking sleeping.
‘Alright,’ Ethan starts tucking the blanket around Piers’ lap instead. ‘But let me hold you. I don’t want you to get a cold.’
‘Hold’ is what he says, but the end result is more like leaning against Piers’ side because he can’t get a tight enough grip on his hoodie. Where the fuck did Chris get such a slippery piece of clothing? After a while, he hooks his chin over Piers’ shoulder to get a better angle to slide his hand under the hoodie, and he discovers two things.
One, there are existing goosebumps on Piers’ skin, which means cuddling did nothing to help Piers warm up.
Two, the hoodie is all that Piers is wearing. Just a single oversized hoodie that he probably stole from Chris’ side of the closet. No boxers. No tank top. Not even a thermal layer which Piers usually dons. Looks like someone is desperate for a good round and would rather be uncomfortable waiting than limiting access. There is, of course, the collar that Piers refuses to ditch except when he showers or his gear doesn’t allow him to wear it, but it is hardly an item that covers anything, so it doesn’t count in Ethan’s books. At this revelation, a plan starts brewing in his mind.
‘You know,’ he whispers into Piers’ ear as his thumb and pointer brush a hardened nipple, ‘there are other ways to keep us warm while we wait for Chris to come back.’ Piers shivers, his purrs intensifying, but he is leaning into Ethan’s touch. Good. ‘Better, less boring ways than sitting in bed kneading a blanket.’
Piers’ breath hitches. He stops purring. ‘Chris told us to wait for him.’
‘That he did.’ Ethan takes the chance to gently guide Piers onto the bed so that Piers can lie down on his back while getting straddled. He suppresses a snort when he realises that even after all the manoeuvring, Piers is still hanging onto the blanket, and he fingers the collar, catching the way Piers’ pupils dilate at the simple gesture. So fucking sensitive, and yet so fucking obedient and loyal to Chris at the same time. ‘But he isn’t here, is he?’
A pretty frown. ‘He won’t be happy that we started without him.’
‘Would you rather waste half a day waiting for him to come back?’ Piers looks away stubbornly, and Ethan knows his plan is working. Leaning down, he takes Piers’ head in his hand - squishing Piers’ face in the process - and forces him to look at him. ‘We aren’t on a mission anymore. Chris’ words aren’t orders that you have to follow.’
Piers stares at him for a few seconds, and instead of answering verbally, he wraps his right arm - a transparent tentacle that always feels fragile to the touch - around Ethan’s neck and gently guides his head down so that they can meet together in a soft, chaste kiss. When Ethan pulls back for air (he technically doesn’t need it but it’s still unpleasant to suffocate), he finds Piers’ eyes half-lidded, long eyelashes fanning his skin which suddenly takes on a translucent quality that allows Ethan to see some of the dark veins underneath - something that happens only when Piers is very cold - and he wonders how much energy Piers burnt up to maintain that look. ‘Make me warm, Ethan,’ Piers’ voice is trembling. The air suddenly smells like slick, and he knows Piers isn’t lying. ‘Please.’
Ethan isn’t one to leave his boyfriend hanging. Shoving a pillow under Piers’ waist so that he himself will have better leverage later, he dives straight into the space between Piers’ legs where he smells the strongest, lips fastened on Piers’ inner thigh as two fingers tease between Piers’ cheeks and - yep, he’s soaked through and thorough, and both fingers slide in with little resistance. ‘Eager, aren’t you?’ he laps at the smooth skin in front of him. Goosebumps start appearing, no doubt from a mixture of his breath and how close his fingers brush against the bump inside Piers. He curls his fingers right before they touch Piers’ prostate, and the squelch of Piers’ tight, wet heat almost drowns out his little whine. ‘Already so fucking wet for me.’
Piers groans the moment the tip of Ethan’s tongue touches the underside of his half-hard cock in conjunction with a twist that brings Ethan’s fingers onto his prostate, his left hand still clutching the blanket, but his legs, possessing surprising strength based on how slender they are, betray how much he wants Ethan to be close as they wrap themselves around Ethan’s shoulder. Although Ethan can’t exactly see it given that Piers’ feet are behind him, he has seen Piers do the same when Chris fucked him, and he can imagine it very clearly in his mind the way Piers crosses his ankles, the arch of his feet as he swallows Piers to the back of his mouth but not letting it go all the way down his throat yet, the curl of his toes as Ethan lets his saliva drips from his mouth and soak Piers’ length. Inserting a third finger so that Piers can’t get away, Ethan closes his lips around Piers’ cock and slowly lets it sink into his throat. The mould thing came as a shock to him, sure, but he can’t complain about the absence of a gag reflex; sucking his boyfriends off has never been easier.
‘Ethan!’ Piers squeaks. Squeaks, as if he can’t get more adorable. His left hand finally lets go of the blanket, and from Ethan’s angle, he can see Piers biting his hand as his gaze lowers to meet Ethan’s. His eyes are wide and watery like he wants to cry.
If Chris were here, he would have cupped Piers’ cheek and wiped the tears away before Piers could even cry; but the sad reality is that Chris is not here, Ethan is but one man (albeit a mutated one), and one of his hands is busy fingering his boyfriend’s tight, wet arsehole, the other holding onto a scarred waist for support, and he lets Piers’ cock rest at the base of his throat for a few seconds, hollows his cheeks, keeps his tongue and lips on Piers as he pulls away with a loud slurp. On the other end, he presses the pads of his fingers against Piers’ prostate hard, trapping him, not letting him escape even as he lifts his hips to chase Ethan’s mouth. ‘I wish Chris were here,’ he whispers, afraid to break the fragile bubble they are in. He mouths at Piers’ balls and earns a gasp. ‘He’d take care of you so well.’
He doesn’t think much of what he said as he focuses on making Piers writhe and pant. The sounds Piers makes are addicting, the smell of his precome mixed with slick filling the air getting Ethan drunk like no alcohol can, and just as Ethan is ready to dive even deeper, he feels something cool touch his right cheek. Piers’ hand, except not quite, because despite having the general shape of a hand, it retains the jelly-like quality of the tentacle, and Ethan can only stare as Piers wipes the slick and precome - which is starting to become tacky due to the temperature - off his chin and lips. At this angle, with sunlight grey and gloomy from cloud cover streaming from the windows as the only source of light, Piers looks otherworldly. Ethereal, almost, when he retracts his hand and the entire scar tissue glows faintly from the movement, a gentle ripple starting from his wrist and coursing through his mutated body. Ethan’s mind returns to his own mutations again, how he didn’t even notice it until he literally died for the second time, how it made him question everything, from his past, his experiences, to his very existence.
And Piers? He knows Piers has a lot more experience than him, but unlike the blackened, rotten mess that Ethan’s body tends to be reduced to if he didn’t keep up with his meds and was taunted in his dreams by a certain bioweapon in the shape of a girl, Piers always manages to make living with a mutation (or at least the aftermath of it; Chris rarely talks about what exactly happened to Piers’ arm when it first mutated, and the only concrete answer Piers has ever given him was, ‘Heavy.’) seem so easy. Beautiful at times, too, just like now.
‘What are you thinking of?’ Piers asks, his voice soft and raspy and so unlike the one he uses in the field that it is almost scary. ‘You’re distracted.’
Ethan has to look away from those mismatched eyes because of how intense they are. He kisses the patch of skin on Piers’ hip where normal skin thins to give way to the scar of his mutation, saying, ‘I’m thinking of how pretty you are.’ A nuzzle into Piers’ mutated hand. ‘How you make it look so happy and easy.’ A trail of kisses peppered along Piers’ flank, earning him a shiver and a slow, cat-like blink. ‘How you’re ours .’
He latches onto a scared-over nipple and sucks, but before his teeth can properly bite down, he feels a slight pressure on his cheek, and he follows its lead, finds himself climbing up and covering Piers’ body with his own, his head pushed down so that Piers can give him an open-mouthed kiss, one that lasts for so long and has so much tongue that by the time Piers lets him pull back, the taste of Piers’ slick and precome is all but gone from their mouths. Ethan’s purely decorative lungs are burning, and he closes his eyes, leans in, feels Piers nuzzle his cheeks and give his chin kitten licks. It tickles, so he laughs. ‘You know,’ he says as he nuzzles back, ‘a lot of people call you a puppy, but I think you’re more like a kitten.’ He loops his index finger into Piers’ collar. ‘Goes ballistic when threatened but otherwise naps a lot and clings to heat sources.’ He places his hand on one of Piers’ legs which is still wound around his waist to emphasise his point. ‘Purrs and kneads like a kitten, too. Can’t believe people don’t see the similarity.’
Piers pouts. ‘I don’t do those in front of strangers.’
Ethan gives his brain a few seconds to think. ‘Good point.’ A few nibbles along Piers’ scarred jawline, because he knows Piers is sensitive there and he wants to remind him what they’re doing. ‘Wanna go on, or are you warm enough to wait?’
Piers closes his eyes, his expression one of total bliss. See? A total cat. ‘You’re thinking too much,’ he grumbles, and that is the only warning Ethan gets before he finds himself flipped onto his back such that Piers is straddling him, Piers’ slick immediately soaking his sweatpants and highlighting the erection that Ethan has been trying very hard to ignore. Cold air hits Ethan’s stomach and chest suddenly as Piers shoves his shirt up to hold onto his pecs through the sleeves of his hoodie, but as he shivers from the cold, all his mind can think of is, kitten.
‘Thinking of how handsome you look from this angle, yes,’ he admits to curb any further feline-related trains of thought, hands reaching into Piers’ (or should he say Chris’?) hoodie to hold his waist. How the fuck is his skin still cold to the touch? Piers grinds his hips down for the slightest bit, and the friction of wet fabric against his cock is enough to make him choke. ‘Fuck. Okay.’
He lifts his shoulders up so that Piers can take his shirt off, then his hips so that he can do the same to his sweatpants; in less than ten seconds, he is more naked than Piers, but all complaints dissipate the moment Piers’ right hand reverts back to its tentacle state and wraps itself around his cock, and god does it feel good. But instead of sitting up like Ethan expects him to, Piers merely rubs the crack of his arse on Ethan’s cock, and it isn’t until Piers purses his lips together to hide his moans and his eyelids flutter that Ethan realises Piers, that bastard, has no intention to sit on his dick properly.
And boy, does that make Ethan mad.
His hands travel down to give Piers’ buttocks a half-hearted knead before giving one of them a hard smack. ‘Are you gonna ride me or not?’ he asks, internally chuckling at the squeal Piers lets out and the way his mismatched eyes widen like - you guessed it - an offended cat. But unlike Chris, he can never be mean to Piers for long (and even Chris only does it in bed), and he gives the site where he just smacked a knead. ‘You know you can be warmer than that once I fill you up.’
‘Don’t want this to be over too soon,’ Piers grumbles in reply.
‘Relax.’ Since Piers doesn’t seem to want to do it himself, Ethan lifts him up and orders him to stay there with a firm squeeze of his hip so that he can grab his own cock with his free hand and guide it towards Piers’ entrance. The slick doesn’t help him get a grip, but since it also means he’ll sink in easily, he isn’t complaining. Especially when Piers smells so strongly from arousal and is groaning so prettily as Ethan bottoms out and settles into his tight, wet heat. ‘You’ll be begging for Chris’ dick when he comes back. Now be a good boy and help yourself, okay?’
Piers doesn’t need another cue; with his right arm solidifying into something resembling a hand once more, he braces both his hands on Ethan’s chest and starts rocking his hips lazily, the silence in the bedroom only broken by his occasional soft sighs and Ethan’s grunts. At a pace like this, it’ll take hours for Ethan to orgasm, which would’ve been frustrating if not for the view he has, one with most of Piers’ body being covered by his hoodie, Piers’ brows knitted into a small frown, all sort of small, dreamy sounds coming out from the curve of Piers’ slightly parted lips, lithe, milky thighs framing Ethan’s body as he grinds the tip of Ethan’s cock against his prostate. Sometimes, Piers lifts his hips slightly and squeezes Ethan’s cock as he sinks back down, and it is done so slowly and deliberately that there is no way Piers is doing it for himself, no. The way he makes sure Ethan is looking at him in his mismatched eyes only confirms Ethan’s theory.
‘It’s okay,’ Ethan says, his left hand travelling to Piers’ thigh as his right sneaks into Piers’ hoodie. Piers’ skin feels warmer now, though not by much. ‘Take what you need. You’re so gorgeous like this that I can stare at you for hours.’
Piers’ cheeks turn pink from the compliment. ‘You look handsome too,’ he reciprocates shyly, his body shivering from the light touches Ethan is putting on his inner thigh, and the shiver turns into a full-on moan as Ethan closes his fingers around Piers’ cock under the hoodie and gives it a slow stroke. ‘Do it again, please.’
Ethan hums and fulfils Piers’ request. Not a moan but a gasp this time, and he himself has to bite back a groan as Piers lifts his hips to chase his hand. The subconscious clench of Piers’ arse doesn’t help at all, and he finds himself thrusting upwards for a little, just enough to earn a surprised gasp but not enough to smack. Bracing his feet on the mattress for better leverage, he quickly establishes a steady rhythm based on Piers’ movements, an upward thrust here, a downward twist of his hand there; he knows he is essentially trapping Piers between his cock and his hand, but the heat around his cock combined with Piers soft whines indicates that neither of them cares.
Then he hears the sound of a door opening. Piers’ movements pause, and the next thrust of Ethan’s hips is harder than the ones he did before. ‘Focus,’ he orders. ‘I know you’re close.’
‘But Ethan -’
With his hands on Piers’ waist, Ethan shoves Piers onto his cock as his hips slam up at the same time. Piers collapses onto Ethan with a scream, and just as he starts pounding Piers with all the strength he can muster - which, thanks to Chris’ training, is quite a lot - Chris looms at the door. Something must have shown on Ethan’s face, because Piers immediately rolls his head to one side to look at Chris, and though he can’t see it from the angle, Ethan can imagine Piers’ pout as he extends his left hand towards Chris’ direction.
‘Ch -’ a thrust of Ethan’s hip turns whatever he is going to say into a moan, and Ethan takes mercy on him and slows down so that he can talk. Or squeak, as he proves with the next words he utters. ‘Ethan started this!’
‘He was waiting for you with his arse and dick out,’ Ethan explains as Chris raises a curious eyebrow. ‘Gotta do something to keep him warm.’
‘Even when I told you two to wait for me?’ Chris asks, but he does start taking off his clothes in front of them, so that’s a good sign. Ethan will never get tired of seeing the power coursing through Chris’ body as his muscles flex, and from the way Piers stares at Chris, he supposes neither does Piers.
Ethan gives one of Piers’ globes a knead to encourage him to continue moving. As much as he likes Piers cockwarming him, he doesn’t want to drag it out anymore, especially not with Chris here. ‘You want your husband down with a cold for the whole weekend? Be glad I’m taking some initiative for once instead of being dragged into your crazies.’
Chris doesn’t speak as he takes off his trousers, his brows furrowed in concentration as if he is really thinking the question through. ‘How about you two go on,’ he says, kneeling on the bed fully naked next to Ethan’s right arm, ‘then I decide what to do with you.’
‘Only if I can hold your hand,’ Piers says, craving body contact from his husband as always.
‘Of course.’ Chris does as Piers requested. Their fingers intertwine together, and a slow brush of Chris’ thumb on Piers’ knuckle sets off a full-body shiver that Ethan can feel around his cock. ‘Why won’t I?’
‘Because I didn’t wait for you?’
Chris kisses Piers’ knuckles. With his free hand, he then caresses Ethan’s flank, at least the ones not covered by Piers’ thigh anyway. ‘Fuck the little thoughts out of his head, will you?’ he asks Ethan. ‘If you do, I’ll let you have him for a second time instead of leaving you unsatiated.’
‘Don’t need you to ask,’ Ethan smirks. A smack on Piers’ thigh is enough to get Piers to start moving again, and he feels the dip in the mattress as Chris lies down next to him holding Piers’ hand, rumbling soft encouragements into their ears. Ethan is sure that they’re sappy and poetic like Chris’ sweet talks tend to be, but right now, as he bounces Piers on his dick and - he takes note to reverse the situation next time - does all the work, very few actual words filter into his mind; all he knows is that the combination of Piers’ moans, which are in sync with the movement of Ethan’s hips, and Chris’ dirty talk is making him topple over the edge at a dangerous speed, more so than how tightly Piers is squeezing him, and he can’t hold it in anymore, he feels lightheaded, and all it takes is Piers being pushed through the edge and squeezing tight around Ethan’s cock with a shout for Ethan to come as well. His cock swells, filling Piers’ with his come and locking the two of them in place, and Piers shivers above him from something that isn’t the cold for once.
‘That’s it, that’s it,’ Ethan cradles Piers’ head to his chest, feeling Piers’ tremors around his cock bring him to another orgasm despite having come so soon. ‘You always take me so well, and look at you now, all plugged up and full of me.’ Never mind that it freaked me out the first time it happened. A small kiss on the crown of Piers’ hair. ‘Our kitten.’
Chris kisses Piers’ cheek and raises an amused eyebrow. ‘Kitten, huh?’
‘Did you even see him? Kneading blankets, purring till my ears are leaking,’ at that, Piers’ chest starts to rumble, ‘sticking to people to steal warmth; hell, you even get your own collar too.’ He brushes his finger against the soft innards of Piers’ collar. ‘A total cat.’ Piers shivers once more, sending sparks of pleasure straight to Ethan’s cock. ‘Fuck. If this goes on, we’re gonna be stuck here forever, and Chris isn’t going to get his turn.’
‘I don’t mind.’ Chris pats Piers’ hair in the way people scritch their cats. ‘I have other ways to occupy myself.’
‘Namely?’
Chris gives Piers a few more head scratches before pushing himself up and shifting his weight until he is kneeling next to Ethan’s shoulder, his cock thick and heavy between his legs - and pointing straight at Piers’ face. With one hand on Piers’ left hand, he guides it so that it is wrapped around his cock - as much as Piers’ hand can anyway, given how thick Chris’ length is - and instead of letting Piers take over, he keeps his hand on Piers’ and starts jerking himself off with it.
Piers hums as if there is already a dick in his mouth.
‘You want this, hmm?’ Chris coos. Piers shivers, his arse clenching around Ethan’s softening cock, and it really is starting to feel like he is going to occupy Piers’ hole for the better part of this session. ‘I know you do, but we need your strength back first, alright?’
Piers pouts and whines, his entire body tilting towards Chris’ direction just to tug on Ethan’s still-inflated cock, his face twisting into a wince from the sensation while Ethan groans from the stimulation. The sound he makes as he lays his head on Ethan’s chest once more is dangerously close to a sob, and Ethan exchanges a look with Chris; denying Piers is fun in moderation, but doing so excessively will effectively kill the mood for days as Piers’ mind struggles to see the truth that they’re just teasing instead of not being interested in him anymore. It passes as quickly as it began, and Chris caresses Piers’ cheek with his free hand, moves forward until his knees are pressed up against Ethan’s side and Ethan has to stretch his arm above his head. ‘Open your mouth,’ he orders. Piers obeys, a pink tongue rolling out, a hint of wetness - of drool - flowing from the corner of his mouth onto Ethan’s chest as Chris feeds him his cock. As his lips are stretched by Chris’ girth, his eyes flutter close, their corners crinkling from the faintest hint of a smile.
Like a cat that got the cream.
Piers is quiet when he lazily sucks Chris off, therefore Chris is loud in comparison, the man never one to hide his pleasure whenever they are having sex together. As he fucks into Piers’ mouth at a leisurely pace, he moans, he groans, he chokes, praises about how good Piers feels and how good he is at taking his cock, and Ethan, having experienced the power of Chris’ words first-hand, is not surprised at all when Piers whines and starts grinding his erection against Ethan’s belly. It further dislodges Ethan’s cock from his hole, and as he feels himself hardening once more from the rumble of Chris’ voice and the wet sound of Piers sucking Chris off, he knows it’s time to pull out. ‘I’m pulling out now,’ he warns. Then to Chris, ‘Wanna take your turn?’
Instead of a concrete reply, Chris wordlessly shifts his position on the bed so that he is kneeling between Piers’ spread legs, his hand tugging on the helm of the hoodie Piers is wearing to signal Piers to raise his arms so that he can take it off. With the amount of slick Piers is producing, Chris shoves in without any further stretching, earning him a drawn-out groan from Piers, and then he doesn’t wait for Piers to adjust to his size; with one hand holding Piers’ waist and the other on his arse to make sure that his hips stay up, he starts thrusting forward while pulling Piers towards himself. Ethan sits up with his back against the headboard, and though Piers holds onto his thighs immediately for support, he doesn’t dive down right away, which gives Ethan time to savour the scene in front of him: Chris’ grunts that are in sync with the slap of skin against skin, Piers’ cries that sound suspiciously like Chris and Ethan’s name but are too broken and laced with whines and moans to actually mean anything apart from I’m getting my brains fucked out; as Ethan jerks himself off to full hardness with the slick still stuck on his cock, Chris’ hand rounds to the front and pulls Piers up by his neck, and the sight of Chris’ hand covering the column of Piers’ throat, Piers’ abs splattered with come and his half-hard cock weeping and flopping to Chris’ thrusts - Ethan is hard again, his throbbing cock demanding him to stick it into something hot and tight to relieve the pressure now. His mind, however, tells him to enjoy the show, and even as he trembles from jerking off due to how sensitive he is so soon after an orgasm, he lets himself watch.
‘E-’ whatever Piers wants to say is interrupted by a particularly hard thrust. His eyes roll to the back of his head, his jaw remains hanging, and his lower lip is shiny with drool. ‘Eth-’
A trail of saliva rolls down the corner of his lips and something in Ethan snaps; kneeling on the bed so that he can face Piers properly, he plants the tip of his tongue on Piers’ chin and licks away the trail, then into Piers’ his mouth, their tongues swirling together messily and sloppily as Piers moans into their kiss and they drool all over each other’s chin. His hand slides up from Piers’ hips to his chest, and Ethan gives Piers’ nipples a flick before pinching and rolling them between his fingers, earning him a squeal that he happily swallows with another kiss. Piers’ skin is hot but goosebumps appear on it anyway as he trembles and leans onto Ethan with his arms on his shoulder like not even Chris’ hand on his neck can keep him upright. Ethan won’t be surprised if he really can’t.
‘Look at you, drooling all over Ethan’s mouth,’ Chris says without ever stopping the movement of his hips; if anything, he seems to have sped up and is doing a pretty damn good job at rendering Piers’ brain into soup. ‘I think it’s time to put it to better use. Don’t you think so, Ethan?’
The only response Piers gives is a full-body shiver together with his cock spurting out an almost transparent liquid, and a large gush of slick flows out from behind him and soaks his thighs - another orgasm. As Ethan sits back, Chris lets go of Piers’ neck, and he collapses on all fours with a long moan, his face bare centimetres from Ethan’s throbbing, burning cock. Chris slows down but not as a gesture of mercy; pushing Piers’ hips downward until he is lying flat on the mattress, Chris leans forward so that he is hovering over Piers and resumes his original pace, and this time, when Piers screams no doubt from his oversensitive cock rubbing against the rumpled sheets and Chris’ cock hitting his prostate over and over again, he doesn’t stop - not when Ethan pats his head in an attempt to soothe him, not when he tries to close his mouth around Ethan’s cock just to get dislodged from the force of Chris’ thrusts, not when Ethan leans forward so that he can meet Chris’ lips over Piers’ head. The kitten licks Piers is giving him are far from enough, and although Ethan considers himself a merciful man, he isn’t in the mood of being teased.
Something must have shown on his face because Chris is giving the order for him. ‘Put your mouth around Ethan’s cock, Piers. That’s an order.’
A hard thrust of his hips nudges Piers forward and Piers sobs, a single tear rolling down his cheek and mixing with the precome and slick coating Ethan’s cock as his face meets the organ, and with one hand holding Ethan’s balls, Piers’ lips latch onto the side of Ethan’s cock, dragging them upwards like he is giving it a long, wet kiss. It is still not enough; when he raises his head to open his mouth, his lips now stained with a mixture of saliva, slick, and precome, Ethan very nearly scolds Piers for daring to disobey Chris, but then Piers lowers himself onto his cock with a sob mixed with a moan, and all complaints fly out of his head from the vibration of Piers’ throat straight to his cock.
‘That’s it, Piers,’ Chris praises, and fuck, Ethan would’ve come then and there if Piers had sunk his head deeper, but no, all he does is bobbing his head shallowly, and even those are induced by Chris’ thrusts. ‘That’s it.’
Except it isn’t. A few minutes later, Piers is still doing nothing but holding Ethan’s cock in his mouth and drooling all over it. And Ethan? He is getting impatient. But he also doesn’t want to hurt Piers; Piers is sobbing already, his body flushed and shivering from overstimulation, and he knows there is still a limit no matter how much Piers loves being used.
‘I’m going to fuck your mouth now,’ he says as he continues patting Piers’ hair. Piers’ breath hitches. ‘Is that alright, or is Chris enough?’
Piers doesn’t remove his mouth from Ethan’s cock when he nods, and the stimulation generated from that action is not enough, never enough.
‘Just push him,’ says Chris. ‘He can take it.’
Who is Ethan to disobey when the head of their family orders him to? Hands sinking into Piers’ hair, he makes sure to meet Piers’ eyes before pushing his head down, and he throws his head back from the sheer pleasure of having something so tight and wet and smooth around his cock. Piers gurgles and chokes, more tears roll down his pink, pretty face, but Ethan pays it no mind knowing that Piers wants this, wants him to jerk himself off with his throat knowing that it won’t hurt him, and he finds himself timing his pulls with Chris’ thrust just because; from how he hasn’t stopped shivering since his last orgasm to how his body is completely pliant as Chris and Ethan manipulate him to get the angle they want him to be in, Piers would’ve blasted them away if he hadn’t been enjoying all of it, and from how Chris is getting louder on top of him and the flex of Piers’ muscles, he is clenching around Chris, that bastard. Ethan highly doubts it’s a conscious move, though; the erratic hollowing of Piers’ cheek around his cock is reflective of that. His right hand slides down to hold Piers’ neck, and there he feels it, Piers’ pulse, quick and strong under his fingers. The next push makes his cock disappear completely into Piers’ throat, and he feels his orgasm building. ‘Getting close,’ he somehow manages to choke out. His wrist is aching from the movement but he doesn’t care. ‘Not gonna last.’
Chris slows down. Piers’ breath hitches before he hums and the vibration pushes Ethan over the edge, giving him barely enough time for him to pull out of Piers’ throat and come into the back of Piers’ mouth with his hand furiously jerking off the exposed segment. As always, Piers pulls himself off his cock before he finishes coming, leading to some of Ethan’s come spilling out of his lips and dribbling down the corner, and even more of it flows out as he opens his mouth to let Ethan see how he sloshes them in his mouth - a ritual developed because Piers knows the sight turns Ethan on so, so much. ‘Good,’ he says as he places his hand on Piers’ chin to close his mouth and use his thumb to wipe off the come that has escaped, and with an audible gulp and a slow blink, Piers swallows it all and then suckles on Ethan’s dirty thumb clean. ‘Satisfied now?’
Piers’ smile turns into a pout as Chris pulls out too quickly. The pout turns into a surprised sound as Chris flips him over, and Ethan quickly realises what Chris wants to do the moment Chris slides his strong, large hands under Piers’ shoulders and basically shoves him at Ethan’s chest. ‘Hold him,’ Chris orders as he climbs closer to them. Piers’ eyes are hazy, his head rolls onto the side easily to expose his neck when Ethan circles Piers’ waist with his arms and presses a comforting kiss onto his cheek, and all he lets out is an inquisitive moan when Chris takes his legs and hooks them over his own shoulders, essentially folding Piers into three parts. A gush of slick flows out of Piers’ hole and the bedsheets under his arse are soaked, and Chris, being the teasing bastard that he is, plays with the mess with his fingers as if testing how tight Piers still is despite having been railed non-stop for the past… half an hour? Ethan isn’t exactly keeping track of the time. He only knows that they have virus fuckery to thank for that, and the wet squelch, Chris’ low groan as he bottoms out once more, Piers’ drawn-out sob as Chris stretches him out - they’re all taking advantage of the situation for their pleasure. When Chris starts moving again, Piers holds onto Ethan’s arms with a hand and a translucent tentacle (his right arm has reverted to its tentacle form once more) so tightly that Ethan is sure they are going to bruise, as if he is holding on for his dear life; as Piers screams his throat sore and Chris pounds into him like he wants to wreck him for good, Ethan knows he might as well been.
And because he is a shithead, he frees up one hand to jerk Piers off.
‘Ngah!’ is the sound Piers makes, his voice distorted from how violently he throws his head back. The back of his head nearly knocks against Ethan’s nose and causes a much less sexy mess, but since he manages to avoid it this time, he lets himself bite onto the scar tissues on Piers’ right shoulder as Piers’ cock repeatedly disappears into his hand and then reappear quicker than Chris’ thrusts. Another hoarse cry, Piers’ eyes squeeze shut, tears roll off his face like miniature waterfalls, and he comes again in the form of an unending wave of slick flowing out of his hole, staining everything in its way. His thighs flex as he clenches around Chris’ member in a futile attempt to contain it, but all it does is making Chris slam into him one more time with a harsh grunt and spill inside him. Both of them breathing heavily from the exertion, Chris brushes Piers’ hair away from his forehead and captures Piers’ lips with his own, his hands smoothing out on Piers’ thigh, stomach, and flank as Piers trembles and spasms from the aftershock. They come up for air, and their next kiss is deeper, one that visibly involves their tongue which makes Ethan want his share too, and he gets what he wants right after and Piers leans what seems to be his entire weight onto Ethan and kisses him. When Chris straightens himself, Piers suddenly snaps into focus and wraps his tentacle around Chris’ neck, pulling him back close and nuzzling into Chris’ collar with a whine. ‘Don’t go,’ he begs, the tears making his words wet and broken. ‘Stay.’
Chris lowers Piers’ legs and rubs his hands up and down Piers’ side. ‘Not going anywhere,’ he promises. Then he leans forward to kiss Ethan, and that, Ethan moans into, not just because Chris is giving him attention but also because he knows how much Piers likes being crushed between both of them, which is exactly what is happening. The relieved sigh they let out is mutual, and they spend the next few minutes kissing, touching, staying close to one another, recementing their bond - especially the one with Piers - after the rough handling. Piers looks like he is falling asleep and only lets out a small hrmph when Chris pulls out and a mixture of slick and come gushes out, which means they will have to make a quick work of the cleanup. ‘Hey, don’t sleep yet,’ Ethan whispers into Piers’ ear. ‘We still need to shower.’
‘I’ll take care of the sheets,’ Chris says, and that’s the division of labour settled. Then to Piers, his hand reaching for his collar, ‘Shower. Gotta take this off.’
After Chris takes Piers’ collar off, Ethan attempts to help Piers walk the few steps it takes to get to the bathroom but quickly abandons the plan when he realises that Piers is under no condition to walk at all, his legs jelly-like and incapable of holding his weight, switching to a bridal carry instead that would’ve been straining under any other circumstances but tolerable due to the short duration. Behind him, Chris strips off the sheets and disappears out of the bedroom to take it to the washing machine in the garage, and Piers shivers from the cold bathtub when he gets deposited on it. Muttering a quick apology that he isn’t even sure gets through, Ethan adjusts the knob to the temperature Piers prefers and gets the water running from the showerhead, cleaning whatever he can reach right now at this angle.
He is sitting behind Piers and massaging shampoo into Piers’ hair when Chris returns. They must have looked extra cute like that because Chris is smiling when he wordlessly steps in and douses himself with water, carefully avoiding disturbing Piers as he makes a quick work of cleaning himself. Then it’s Ethan’s turn to do the same, and Chris takes the time to prolong the massage even though most of the suds are gone by now, but hey, Piers is looking like a cat being scritched on the chin, so he does like the treatment he is receiving right now. With Ethan done, it is time for them to turn their focus onto Piers.
‘I know you’re tired,’ Ethan says to Piers as he drapes Piers’ arm and tentacle onto his shoulder, ‘but we need you to stand up for the next part. Gotta get you clean and fresh for bed.’
Piers hums and manages to stand up with Ethan’s help, but his contented sighs turn into low moans when Chris slides two fingers into him and starts scraping whatever come and slick are left in his hole. He buries his face into Ethan’s neck and Ethan holds him through, helping him maintain his balance and whispering sweet nothings into his ear along with Chris whenever Chris accidentally brushes his prostate and seems to liquefy his legs; by the time Chris is done and is finally soaping Piers up, Piers’ breaths have turned laboured and sound like a mixture of whines and sobs. ‘I know, I know,’ Chris mutters as he runs his hands all over Piers and makes sure the soap is getting to where it should, ‘it’ll be over soon. We’ll wrap you up in blankets, get some food and fluids into you, and then you can go to bed. Sounds good?’
‘Dinner in bed,’ Ethan ponders the suggestion. ‘Sounds good.’
Piers raises his head just enough to say, ‘No dinner,’ before propping his head down once more while Chris rinses him clean, which by now they know translates to ‘I can’t stomach a lot but I will be grumpy if you don’t feed me so some food is not only good but necessary.’
Having washed away the last of the soap, Chris stops the shower and returns the showerhead to the handle before taking one of the towels they have prepared in the bathroom to dry up. They don’t bother to put on clothes; now that they are alone in the house, they can afford to sleep naked, and if what happened in the last hour is an indication, whatever clothes they put on wouldn’t stay on for long anyway. They split up, Chris carrying Piers to bed and wrapping him up in blankets as promised, Ethan going to the kitchen to prepare some fruit, cutting them into small pieces if necessary so that it is easier to consume. He then brings the fruit into the bedroom alongside three bottles of juice and a large bottle of water, and they share the food and drinks between them through a movie Chris picked on his laptop; no alcohol, because Chris quitted a few years back, Piers hates the taste of the stuff, and it doesn’t work at all on Ethan anyway. It’s a good arrangement.
It’s a nice way to spend the evening - in bed, warm, and together.