Connor, Stan, Darren... and Shae

Gripping him harder, she says, "I want you on the bed, face down." She lets go of him. "Now."

She doesn't raise her voice, but the thrill of command is there. It must be genetic. This can't be learned.

Stan climbs onto the bed and lies face down, his head on his folded arms. He watches quietly as Shae goes to Connor's desk drawer. How does she know? Of course Connor's told her where he keeps his toys.

Distantly his mind screams, but he's long since kicked the door shut, and that voice is trapped a mile away.

Shae comes back to the bed with a blindfold and leather cuffs.

As she fixes the blindfold behind his head, he murmurs, "Why does he want this?"

She pauses to kiss the back of his neck. "He doesn't. You do."

She fastens his wrists to the headboard, then runs a hand down his naked back, enjoying the tension of his taut muscles, the curve and rise of his buttocks, the firmness of the backs of his thighs.

And then the door opens. He realises neither of them has locked it.

"Let me go!" Stan struggles against the restraints, shame and terror gripping him. "Let me go!" But as the door closes, Shae soothes him, stroking a hand through his hair.

"It's alright, Stanton, it's all part of the entertainment."

"I didn't agree to this," says Stan. "I didn't agree to this!"

There's silence for a moment, then a male voice. Tentative.

"It's me."

Darren.

"Can we continue?" Shae asks, her voice a mocking lilt.

Stan's body's hot with shame. Darren's never seen him like this. But all the same, his dick trapped under him's hot and hard.

"Stanton?"

"Green," he whispers.

"Good." Stan hears her boots against the thin carpet. "Now, Darren, how about you get naked?"

Stan hears the distinctive sound of his boyfriend taking off his clothes, folding them, piling them on the bed opposite. He can play the scene out in his head, he's seen it so many times. Left to his own devices, Darren likes to be tidy. Only Connor can shake that from him, taking glee in leaving him a quivering, disheveled mess at every opportunity.

"First, I want you relaxed," says Shae, and Stan knows this is said to him.

Sight deprived, he senses her instruct Darren, but hears nothing.

The bed dips as Darren climbs onto it. He straddles Stan, his hands resting against his lover's back.

More sounds, of searching through Connor's drawers—a sound that's always made Stan go tense—and then the snap of a cap being flicked open. Stan thinks it's lube, but instead a stream of oil hits his back. He jolts under the cool shock of it, and then Darren's hands slide through it, warming it with friction as quickly as he can.

"Like this," Shae murmurs, and Stan feels a different set of hands run oil down his left arm and back up, while Darren's hands move along his right.

"Good boy," she says softly, and then it's just Darren again.

The younger boy's hands warm and relax Stan's muscles, as he runs thumbs and palms up either side of Stan's spine, then kneads into the tension of his shoulders.

Stan closes his eyes under the blindfold and lets himself melt into the bed.

"Lower," another soft instruction, and Darren shifts down, his weight against the backs of Stan's knees.

More liquid squirts against Stan's lower back, and his lover's hands knead oil into his buttocks, fingers sliding against his inner thighs, slicking him, soothing him. Exciting him.

Another silent command and Darren moves off Stan and pushes the older boy's legs wide so he can get between them. Now, as well as the oil being massaged into his arse, Stan feels Darren's breath against his entrance, then a tongue exploring.

Holy fuck.

"Who taught you to do that?" Stan asks, and Shae grabs his hair and shakes his head once.

"No speaking unless it's 'red'."

But from further down the bed, Stan hears a soft, "You did," before Darren's tongue slides around and in, teasing and wet.

Stan hears an almost inaudible instruction from Shae, and then the oil-slicked tip of Darren's index finger circles against his entrance, slow, lazy circles that make Stan relax and tense as his body wars between the tension of desire and the pleasure of letting go.

Then Darren's finger slides inside, correcting its course to make sure he doesn't catch, a short fuck inside that first ring, lubricating the inside of his lover.

He starts a long, slow, finger fuck, the younger boy's face nuzzling against Stan's inner thighs, while his other hand moves lower to coat Stan completely with massage oil, rolling the other boy's balls against his palm.

Stan's lost in the slick heat of sensation, and then Darren's questing finger finds the thing he's looking for inside the older boy. Stan gasps, his muscles twitching, blood rushing to his groin, as desire floods him.

He wants to say 'more', but he has no idea what Shae might do to him if he does, so he moans and writhes, and lets Darren know with his body that this feels incredible.

"Time to get fucked, Stan," says Shae.

Both boys freeze.

Darren has never fucked Stan. Darren has never fucked Connor. Or any other man. And while Stan's in a state of bliss, he knows with clarity that he doesn't want to change that now.

"Red," he says, and his voice is hoarse from not speaking. "He can't fuck me."

"I don't want to do this," says Darren, and there's a tremor in his voice.

Shae laughs softly. "Relax. You're not going to. I am."

A shudder runs down Stan's spine, and he feels the first beads of sweat prickle across his forehead, his chest, as adrenaline spikes through him.

"Green?" Shae asks.

Stan breathes hard, his eyes roving wide and afraid behind his blindfold. Does he want this? Does he want this? Does he want this?

"I can do it if you want—" starts Darren, and for Stan his words bring glass-edged clarity.

"Green."

Shae understands. She moves Darren off him and undoes his cuffs. Freed, relief floods Stan, and he feels less afraid, almost eager.

As he lifts his blindfold, he expects to see Shae in a strap-on, but Shae has other ideas. She has, instead, selected a dildo that she feels is appropriate, given Stan's predilection for being fucked by her brother. She hasn't seen what Connor has to offer, doesn't want to, but her brother's boasted to her in glorious detail of how he's ruined Stan for all other men.

While she doubts that's true, he speaks with too much pride to not be well endowed.

"Off the bed and on your knees," she tells Stan, and he gingerly does as he's told. He sits back on his heels in the middle of the bedroom floor with his palms resting against his thighs, trying to anticipate what might come next.

Shae can see this position excites him, terrifies him, and he sees that knowledge in her eyes. Instead of shame, he submits to it. Acknowledges it. Sinks into it.

Shae gazes down into Stan's hazel, watchful eyes, loose strands of his short brown hair lit gold by the lamp behind his head. She tilts his face upward with a finger placed under his chin.

At that touch it's as if the last of Stan's tension runs from him, like water draining through a sieve, leaving him floating and receptive to Shae's instruction.

"Darren."

Shae directs the younger boy without moving her gaze from Stan's face.

She moves to one side, and Darren takes her place. His cock's already half-hard, despite his nerves. Nervous at having even this much power over the man he loves and respects.

"Shut it." Shae dissuades Darren from the apology that parts his lips.

"And you," she says to Stan. "Start sucking."

Stan moves as if someone else is operating his limbs. He cradles Darren's testicles in his palm, and lifts his lover's semi-hard length to stroke and wake it, before taking the younger boy into his mouth.

Shae moves behind Stan as Darren twitches with pleasure, his fingers curling against his thighs as Stan services him.

Stan's slow at first, his mind a lazy river of obedience, and then Shae's hands are on his shoulders.

"You can do better," Shae says darkly. Her fingers tighten against his shoulders, and Darren moans as Stan takes his lover deep, massaging the younger boy with his throat.

Shae's voice is low as she crouches to speak into Stan's ear, one hand squeezing the back of his neck.

"You are a truly exceptional cocksucker."

Darren whimpers as Stan's hand slides back, teasing at the other boy's entrance. Darren can't resist that touch, and it makes him hungry to have Stan lodged inside him—tight and painful—then filling him with the euphoric weight of pleasure that being fucked brings.

"Ohfuck." Darren lets out an involuntary gasp as Stan penetrates him with two fingers now, shifting his fingers apart inside his lover, preparing Darren reflexively for the fucking he intends to give him.

And then Shae grips his hair.

"Stop there, lover boy. On your hands and knees on the bed."

Stan moves in a daze, and crawls onto the bed, facing the headboard.

"Darren." Again, Shae only needs to say the younger boy's name, and he does as she asks, channelling the same commanding telepathy her brother possesses.

Shae retrieves the thick, silicone prick she picked out earlier from Connor's collection, and as the other two watch, dribbles lube over the tip. They both watch in silence as Shae slicks her hand over it, making it glisten.

"Get back to sucking," she says to Stan, and Darren feeds his cock back into Stan's willing mouth.

Shae, still clothed, climbs onto the bed and kneels beside Stan. She pushes one hand into his hair, holding his head still for Darren, while she presses the wet tip of the toy against Stan's entrance.

He's well lubed, and horny as hell, and he does little but grunt as she slowly presses it inside him. She fucks it into him a little at a time, then fucks it deeper, watching it slip further in as the lube coats his insides and his muscles relax.

Stan's been taking Connor now for months, and more often than not he can take him with very little preparation. As she fills his passage and guides the toy against his prostate, he moans loudly around Darren's cock lodged in his throat.

"Since you can't speak right now, red is a hand slapped against the bed," says Shae. She pauses with the dildo half fucked into Stan. "Show me you understand."

Stan slaps the bed with one hand, and Shae pats his arse.

"He's all yours Darren." Shae's voice is smooth and dark. "I don't want to hear anything except him slobbering on your cock for the next ten minutes."

Her command inspires Stan to slide himself down on Darren as far as he can go, his lips tickling against the root of the boy's cock, and Darren loses himself to lust. He grips Stan's hair and pulls his hips back, slams himself back in, then finds a rhythm.

Shae waits until she's sure Stan's lost in his deep-throat fucking, and then pushes the dildo the rest of the way home.

Stan lets out a groan, a gutteral ungh of surprise pulled up from his belly, where it feels the dildo's now lodged. But he doesn't pause.

Shae draws the toy back then pushes in hard again, watching Stan's body twist with pleasure. Another hard thrust, another grunt of pleasure, and she starts to fuck him in earnest.

She varies her thrusts, and runs a hand down to caress his oil-slicked balls as she penetrates him, two fingers catching around the base of his cock, leaving him aching for her to slide her hand up and stroke the rest of him.

Every half dozen strokes she runs the tip across his prostate, making him moan as he sucks eagerly on Darren's hard prick—and sometimes she guides it away from his node, lodging the full thickness of it inside him up the hilt, watching his back arch and his arse push back, as his hunger turns him into a cock hungry whore.

"Gonna cum!" says Darren desperately.

"Don't you dare!" growls Shae, and Darren pauses, his throbbing cock pulsing against Stan's tongue, the boy almost in pain from holding back his orgasm.

Shae lodges the toy deep inside Stan. "Hold it there."

Stan clamps his muscles around the silicone prick owning his insides, and Shae grips his cock.

"Good boy. Here we go—make sure you swallow it all."

As if Stan needs any urging.

Shae starts to stroke Stan's hardness, and the second her fingers close over his slick head he cums, bucking against her hand, spasming against the toy in his arse, an ache against his pleasure.

This pushes Darren over the edge, and he lets out a moan and grips Stan's hair, his hips jerking as he deposits load after hot, salty load onto his lover's tongue. Stan does as he's been told and seals his lips against his lover's cock, swallowing every drop.

The moment both boys have finished their climax, Shae draws the toy from Stan's arse and disappears into the bathroom.

The two stare at each other, panting, and Darren shuffles close to Stan. On their knees in front of each other, Stan puts a hand on Darren's shoulder, then grazes his knuckles against the boy's bicep, before dropping his hand again.

They're both trembling, and neither of them knows why.

When Shae comes back, Stan can smell soap on her hands. She truly is her brother's sister.

"Darren, why don't you go wash up," she says, and Stan gives the other boy a quick kiss on the lips and lets him go.

Shae takes a seat on the bed and runs a finger down Stan's face.

Stan grins. "That was amazing."

Shae pushes a hand against his chest, and he takes the hint and moves over. She takes off her shirt, her pants, and then peels off a violet satin bra and panties, discarding her clothes beside the bed.

She gets comfortable, then pulls him down beside her.

He props himself up on an elbow as she runs a finger across his chest, teasing the hair there between two fingers.

"Do you honestly think there's room in your life for women, Stanton?"

He teases her breast, rolling her nipple with his palm, feeling it stiffen.

"Maybe."

"How on Earth did my brother turn a man like you into a depraved cock whore?"

Stan chuckles, flushes, but he's no longer ashamed. He knows there's no judgement there.

"He is what he is. Darren calls him a 'force of nature'."

"And then Darren," she says, sliding his chest hair between her fingers to the tips, then starting at the roots again. "How does a self-identified straight man end up with two boyfriends?"

Stan runs a hand down her flank, and rests it above the well-groomed join where her sex is hidden by legs pressed together. He searches her face for approval and she gives it, and his questing fingers find her wet.

He slides one finger inside, and Shae's back arches. She puts hands to his shoulders, and he does it again, a long slide in, then running up her wet slit to tease in circles.

"I have a confession," she says, and Stan laughs.

"Another confession? I'm not sure I can take any more surprises."

"Oh, you'll like this one. I want to fuck you. How long will it take you to be ready?"

Stan's mouth drops open for the second time that night.

"You don't want to me to lick you? I mean, I do know how to please women."

He sounds vaguely insulted.

Shae glances down. "You have, if you don't mind me saying so, a very nice cock."

Stan glances down at what's growing in the fertile soil of her praise.

"I think so, too," says Darren, as he comes back to the bed.

Stan glances up, concerned his lover might be jealous, but Darren's gaze is on Stan's soft, but rapidly filling manhood, as it drapes against his thigh.

"Why don't you get over here and wet it for him?" asks Shae.

Darren approaches the bed, a grin on his face. He ignores Shae's nakedness, and instead leans halfway onto the bed, his chest against her legs, and takes his lover's swelling cock into his mouth.

"Condoms?" asks Stan.

"Your choice. I'm tested, clean, and on birth control."

Stan hesitates. But he wants to feel the slickness he's only felt against his finger. Would like to taste her too, if only she'd let him.

If she was a stranger, he wouldn't have allowed himself the pleasure. But how can he pass up the opportunity to sink into the wetness of the girl who's just finished owning his arse?

Shae winds a hand in Stan's hair and presses her mouth to his.

Stan's been kissing mostly boys now for months, and he's forgotten what it's like to kiss a girl. It's not that her kiss is softer, or that her mouth is smaller, her tongue less insistent. That her skin is soft, no rasp of stubble against his face, that her skin has a subtle fragrance no man's will ever have.

It's that the taste and smell of her rings chimes in his head that wake him thick and ready in Darren's mouth, because, really, Stan loves to fuck women, and Shae is exceptionally fuckable.

"I'm ready," he gasps, as Darren's finger slides inside him, and Shae laughs against his throat, her head tucked under his chin.

"Okay, lover boy, with all that muscle, let's see you do some work."

She gently pushes Darren away and wriggles under Stan.

"Missionary?" he says. "You just fucked my arse with a dildo, and you want missionary?"

"You going to do as you're told?" she asks.

He laughs and drops a kiss to her nipple. "Of course."

What he can't see is his body held over hers, the taut muscles in his arms bulging, his chest covered with a light sheen of sweat from his earlier fucking. And his face... Stan really is a good looking guy. Who wouldn't want to fuck face-to-face with someone as fit as him?

As she guides him inside her, bending her knees to give him access, he pushes into her, a long, slick glide. All that wetness; clearly fucking his arse turned her on.

He pushes himself up and fucks into her, then from habit, takes her legs and pushes them back to fuck deeper.

She laughs, amused, and he realises what he's done.

"If you want to fuck my arse, make sure your dick's wet," she says, and he grins. Fuck her arse. That's not such a bad idea.

But for now, she's hot and wet around him, and it's a natural wetness he's missed. Inside she's slick, the ridges and smoothness inside her urging him deeper.

Still holding himself above her, he drops his head to kiss her breasts in turn, the muscles in his shoulders bunched and shimmering with the sweat of effort.

She wraps her legs around his waist and lets out a sigh, moving her hips against his, riding his movement.

"On your back," she gasps, and Stan grips her in his arms and rolls her over. She keeps him sheathed inside, and once she's above him, sets the pace.

His hands are on her breasts, his eyes fixed to hers. Her face confuses him, fading between hers and her brother's, and as he grows closer to climax, he can't decide which turns him on more.

"Don't cum," she gasps, and he's suddenly left cool as she lifts herself off him.

"What are you doing?"

"I want you in my arse."

No girl's ever said that to Stanton before. Perhaps they've thought it—but they've never, ever said it. Not like that.

He's so horny as he lines himself up, then remembers lube.

"There's enough!" she says. "Neither of us is going to last long."

He slips back into her wetness and collects as much moisture as he can, then pushes against her entrance. With precum steadily welling, he has plenty to slick over himself, and it seems she's practiced as much as he has, as she lets him in.

She gasps; he's big, but she's hungry for him.

He presses his head inside, and she moans, fucking back against him, driving him as far as she needs him.

He keeps the pressure there and lets her set the pace, the depth, and in less than the time it takes to realise he's fucking Connor's sister in the arse, he feels her clamp around him and start to pulse. He's only a quarter in, but he doesn't care.

She drops her head and moans, and Stan holds her hips and lets her draw his orgasm up and over.

"Ffffuck!" He holds still, jetting inside her, while her muscles contract around him.