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Saturdays are lazy days in the Therein household-- a household of one, Alistair, or perhaps two, if one counts the ever growing pile of dirty dishes in the sink as a sentient creature. Alistair does. He is convinced it is possessed, and therefore refuses to remove even a single coffee mug from the stack, for fear of angering his potential paranormal roommate.
It is this fact which he is currently explaining to one Zevran Cousland-Arainai over Discord, as they play a lazy Saturday match of Age of Imperiums. Alistair is winning, for once, even though he’s building his chosen faction, the Orlesians, based solely on how stupidly ornate he can make their armor. The feathers on the chevaliers’ plumed helmets currently stand twice as tall as the character models themselves.
“It’s true, Zevran! I put another plate on the stack yesterday, and it groaned at me. What else except a sloth demon groans at you? Er... Besides Darkspawn ghouls. But I don’t think the stack is big enough for one of those to hide behind it. Yet. Who knows!”
Zevran chuckles out a soft laugh on the other end of the call, “My friend, have you considered that it was the sound of the dishes shifting under the new weight that created the sound? It seems a much more likely option.” Even talking about dirty dishes, the sound of Zevran’s seductive Antivan tenor is enough to make shivers run down Alistair’s spine. Maker... On calls like these, when Zevran is talking low and soft into his microphone, it almost feels like the elf is whispering into Alistair’s ear, close and seductive as a lover.
Alistair shakes his shoulders, trying to dislodge the thought. Zevran is married. To Alistair’s best friend, no less! Cassander Cousland (now Cousland-Arainai, of course), a buddy from back when Alistair had been in service to the Wardens. Not that Zev and Cass seem to have all that monogamous a relationship, given how Alistair had seen that Qunari, The Iron Bull, cuddling up close to the both of them the last time they’d all gone out together at the Pearl… Maybe they would let Alistair lean all over them like that, he could be curled up in their laps and -- No, stop it, Alistair! Bad thoughts! What was he talking about again? Dish demons? Right, dish demons! A much safer and more boner killing topic of conversation. (Not that he needs to kill a boner, thinking about being wrapped up in his friends’ strong, muscular arms. Nooooo…)
“Erm, w-well, I don’t see how you consider yourself the expert in this situation. I’ll have you know that I am a veteran of the Dirty Dish Pile. I have never heard one of them groan, not once in all my years! Just ask Cassander. We were bunkmates back at Weisshaupt, you know. Well… You do know that. You were dating him at the time. And… coming over to our bunk, and… doing things presumably. Anyway ! Where is Cass today? Usually I’ve heard at least one comment from him in the background by now. I’ve gone almost half an hour now without a deeply hurtful barb about my lack of any and all strategic skill. I don’t know how I’ll stand it!”
“Ah… He’s busy today, he has some things to take care of.”
“Shame. We never hang out enough, you know. The three of us. Or is he just scared about how bad I’d beat him in Age of Imperiums?”
“I don’t think anyone smarter than a piece of shoe leather would have much trouble beating you, my friend.”
“Oof. Ouch. My pride. It’s wounded. I’ll never fully recover.”
Zevran chuckles distractedly on the other end of the line, but doesn’t respond.
“What’s going on over there?” Alistair complains, “Got nothing to say? No, ‘allow me to kiss it better, my friend’? No offer to help perk me up? Come on, I served that one to you on a golden platter!”
“Er, sorry, my friend, I just--” There is a loud thump and a bark on Zevran’s end of the call, followed by a sharp shout from the elf.
“Everything okay over there?”
Zevran clicks his tongue in irritation. “Yes, Barkspawn’s just mad because I locked him out of the office. I gave him a toy full of peanut butter and everything! So unappreciative.”
“What, why? How could you do such a thing to my furry nephew?!”
“Perhaps I just wanted some alone time with you, Alistair. Just us, with nothing to… distract me.” Zevran’s voice is a deep purr in his ear, a sinful promise baiting Alistair’s deepest desires.
Alistair tries valiantly, yet unsuccessfully, to ignore the blush creeping up the back of his neck, “Yes, well, erm… You’ve-You’ve got it. I, er… You know, I’m actually feeling a bit peckish. I’m going to just, er… Get something to eat. Be right back!”
Alistair shoves the arm of his standing mic away and practically leaps out of his seat. In his rush he even forgets to remove his bluetooth headphones, too intent on getting to the bathroom to splash some cool water on his flaming cheeks. Maker’s breath … After all these years with Zevran, Alistair would have thought he’d be used to this sort of thing by now!
A soft sound from his headset comes crashing through Alistair’s thoughts. It’s a wet pop like someone’s just pulled a lollipop out of their mouth. But… Alistair thinks, Zevran doesn’t even like sweets .
“How are you feeling, my love?” Zevran’s voice is slightly quiet over the line, like he’s bent away from the microphone on his desk.
Who’s he talking to? Alistair is half sitting on his bathroom counter now, ear cocked to the side to listen. He’s not even ashamed about the eavesdropping (or at least not yet anyway), too caught up in what the fuck could be going on at the other end of the line.
From Zevran’s mic comes a quiet whimpering sound and then the clink of a glass being lifted off the surface of the desk.
“Ah, ah, ah, my love. Patience. I know you want it back, but you’ve had my cock in your mouth for half an hour. Give your jaw a rest. Drink this.” A pause. “That’s my good boy, Cass. Sip slowly.”
Andraste’s tits . Was that…? Had Alistair just heard what he thought he heard? That whimpering, it must have been Cass. Then that meant… This whole time, Cassander wasn’t out of the house. He was sitting under Zevran’s desk, holding his husband’s cock in his mouth and warming it while Zevran was on a call with Alistair. Talking to him. Joking about demon dishware and having “ alone time” together.
Fuck, fuck, fuck . Alistair had been on the other side of the microphone oblivious. And Zevran must have liked it, thrusting his cock into his husband’s mouth while telling Alistair he was “so busy,” knowing that the big man would have to keep quiet for him, be a good little pet and keep up the charade while all he wanted was to moan around Zevran’s cock, to beg and plead for Zevran to just--
Alistair’s train of thought is interrupted again by the melodic sound of Zevran’s voice.
“I’m going to check your ropes now, love. Hold still.”
Maker… Ropes? Then Cass is all trussed up, tied pretty as a present for Zevran. He’s sitting down there, and there’s nothing but he can do but take whatever Zevran gives him, ignoring the arousal that must be swirling in his gut, unable to touch his throbbing cock where it rubs against-- Alistair realizes that he’s pressed his legs together and is grinding slightly into the air as he daydreams, letting one hand hover down to press against his crotch. Quickly, he separates his legs and sits on his hands. He’s too curious to stop listening now, but surely he shouldn’t touch himself… Right?
On the other end of the line there’s a shuffling sound. Then, the dark, sensuous sound of Zevran’s chuckle. “Stop squirming. You know that won’t get me to touch you. I make my toys earn their rewards.” There’s the wet sound of a kiss. “Besides, Alistair’s getting back soon. You wouldn’t want him to catch you, right? Do you want your best friend to know how you sound when you come for me?”
A desperate, high pitched moan graces Alistair’s ears. That was Cass. 6’4”, muscle bound sex god Cass Cousland desperate for Alistair to know how pretty he sounded when he came all over himself. Oh, that was a game that Alistair would love to play.
He could imagine stepping into Zevran and Cassander’s office to see the big Grey Warden on his knees, bound in blue silk ropes before his husband. One of Zevran’s lithe, tan legs would be draped over his shoulder, holding Cass against his crotch as he thrust lazily into the man’s mouth. Alistair would watch the drool trickle down Cassander’s stubbled chin as that hazel gaze turned in his direction. Cass would be expectant, waiting for praise for being such a good boy, but Alistair would only raise one eyebrow at him before ignoring him completely, happy to be a part of Zevran’s waiting game. He could make Cass earn it.
The thoughts are so filthy Alistair wants to crawl into his bathtub and never leave again. He can’t believe himself! Or how hard the fantasy’s made him. He can feel his erection pressing painfully against the seam of his boxer briefs. What in Andraste’s name is happening to me?!
He can’t take any more of this. He needs to get back to Zevran, make it through this call, and then furiously masturbate with one fist in his mouth so he can fight down the moans and pretend he isn’t getting off on his married friends’ sex lives.
Zevran is obviously unaware of Alistair’s resolution, as he continues with his filthy diatribe. “You want Alistair to hear you? Doing what, I wonder… You want him to hear your sloppy mouth on my cock?” There is an obscene squelching sound. Zevran must be fucking in and out of Cass’s mouth, letting the crown of his cock pop past his lips so the drool bubbles down his chin.
“Or do you want him to hear you squeal when I finally let you out of your cage and get my hand around that sweet prick of yours?”
And there comes Cass’s high, desperate moan, an all too familiar sound now for someone Alistair hasn’t even seen fully naked before. (Well, not… intentionally. Though he had stared for a good long while that one time in basic training when he’d walked in on Cass in the middle of pulling his shorts down over that toned, tanned ass of his. Alistair still vividly remembers the mole dotting his left ass cheek. He’d wanted to bite it.)
“Oh, I know… You’re thinking that if I get the mic close enough, Alistair could hear the vibrator I stuck up your ass, is that right? You think he’d want the password for the controls? I wonder if he’d be nicer than I am and turn the power up for you.”
Maker, Alistair would… He’d blast the vibe as much as Cass wanted if he could hear some more of those delicious whimpers the former Warden is making, turn it up as high as it could go and then when Cass is about to burst, he’d switch it off. He’d make his friend cry and whine, throw himself on his husband’s mercy, hoping that Zevran would take the controls, turn the vibrator on and give him back the sensation. He knows that Zevran wouldn’t. Zevran would praise Alistair for following the rules and torturing Cass like he deserves.
Alistair’s cock throbs again and he knows he can’t stay like this anymore. He can’t keep sitting here, getting harder and harder, and he refuses to touch himself to this show when Zevran doesn’t even know he can hear everything. He really, really has to get back. Without revealing what he overheard. Oh, Maker… This is going to go horribly, isn’t it?
When Alistair returns to his room, he pushes the door open with exaggerated slowness, making sure the unholy squeal of the rusty hinges rings clear and loud through his mic. He can hear scrambling on the other end of the line; it’s Zevran trying to readjust himself for Alistair’s reappearance, to make himself presentable. If only he knew how futile the attempt really is.
“I’m back,” Alistair says, fighting the quaver in his voice.
“Ah, welcome back, my friend. I missed your company.”
Alistair’s heart flip flops in his chest, and he tries for his normal joking affection, “Aww, Zev, you flatterer! But I missed you too, of course. You and Cass! N-Not that he’s here right now for me to have missed him! That would be ridiculous! Where would he be? Hiding under the desk? I mean… I, er… Let me tab back into the game.”
Zevran seems not to have noticed Alistair’s slip up, perhaps because he’s currently having all of his brains sucked out his cock. That’s probably for the best, given that Alistair isn’t very subtle even on a good day, and he has little confidence in his ability to get through this without spilling the beans about what he’s overheard.
For now, his plan is to distract himself with gameplay and hope Zevran remains oblivious to his increasingly flustered state. He can do this! He just has to believe in himself. And not think about his incredibly attractive friend getting cock warmed by his equally handsome husband this very second, just on the other side of this very call and-- Maker’s Breath, Alistair, get it together!
The next five minutes are some of the most truly uncomfortable of Alistair’s life. He and Zevran sit in what the elf probably thinks is companionable silence, preparing their armies for the pixelated battlefield. Alistair can barely move his mouse, his hands are shaking so hard. He’s on high alert for any sound, any hint that he’s been discovered.
So when Zevran lets out the most contented little sigh, it sends a shiver down Alistair’s spine. He can imagine what Cass must be doing to pull out such a noise. Is Zevran close right now? Maybe Cass has found the perfect place to worry with his tongue, the most sensitive spot on Zevran’s head. Could Cass have relaxed his throat enough to slip Zevran all the way down his throat, until his nose is pressed up against the curls of his husband’s sex? Alistair wonders if it’s as blond down there as the hairs on the elf’s head.
“... Alistair? Alistair ?”
“What?! Yes! No! Hi!” The former Warden is snapped out of his reverie in a panic, heart thundering in his chest.
Zevran’s laugh rumbles in his ears, “No need to be so jumpy, my friend. I was just asking if you’d trained your Mythic Hero yet.”
“T-Trying to trick me into revealing my strategy are you?” At least Alistair’s brain is good at witty retorts, even when half the blood in it has been drained into his cock.
“Just wondering if they could be anywhere as powerful and magnificent as the Dread Pirate, Osmund Third Leg.”
That startles a snort out of Alistair. “Well, now I’m considering renaming her The High Priestess of the Floppy Folds just to compete.”
“Ah, I see… You have the Revered Mother, then?” Zevran clicks his tongue disapprovingly, “You should know only the Rivaini can have a Dread Pirate. I’m playing as Antiva!”
“You tricked me? Ooh, it’s on now! Prepare to get smitten! Smote? Smited… Smit.” And just like that, all of Alistair’s nervousness has drained away as he gets lost in the easy banter. Zevran always has a knack for doing this. He notices Alistair’s stuttering and stammering, and redirects the anxious energy into something else, distracts Alistair enough that he remembers to take a breath.
Alistair appreciates that quiet support, and it’s one of the reasons he thinks he’s fallen so hard for the elf. Cass is almost the opposite. Unlike Zevran, who’s all misdirection and jokes, Cass is a firm hand on the shoulder, a reminder to breathe. It was why Cass was such a good commander, back in the Wardens. His solid presence on the battlefield was the only reason Alistair thinks he made it through.
Maker, but he does love them. It’s an ache in his chest, sometimes, something he has to push down again and again and all the while it just grows bigger and bigger. And now he’s here, listening to Zevran getting sucked off all while stuck on the other side of the screen. If only he were there, he could show them! Show them how much they mean to him. He could give something back for all the times they were there for him without question, when they asked for nothing in return.
That’s why he’ll keep playing this game for them. He’ll be the ignorant bystander, if that’s what they need. At the very least, he can give Cassander’s jaw another break soon.
Alistair waits ten minutes before he gets up from his desk again, making his excuses about needing to check on something. He keeps his headset on, just like last time, but now as he makes his way into his dinky little kitchen, he can feel his heart hammering in his chest, eager to know what he’ll overhear.
There comes that now-familiar sucking ‘pop’ from Zevran’s end of the line and the sound of his voice, gentle in Alistair’s ear.
“How are you feeling, love? Still having fun?”
Cass’s voice is so incredibly raspy and fucked out that Alistair practically melts upon hearing it, “I’m good. It’s very, very good…” There’s the pause, the sound of someone drinking water, Cass probably, “I like… I like hearing Alistair’s voice when I suck your cock.”
Alistair freezes. His stomach is in knots. What is he supposed to do with this ?
“I like it, too,” Zevran admits. Alistair feels weak in the knees. “I wish we could invite him to join us.”
“We’ve tried it before! He goes all squirrely and pretends we’re just making jokes.” Pretends they’re joking? Alistair thought they actually were !
“I know, but... imagine if he were here in the room with us. All the things the both of us could do to you.”
“Or what we could do to him?”
“Oh, is that what my little pet wants? You want him to be the one with his cock down your throat? And where would I be, hmm?”
“Ahh, hah… Zev…” Alistair can’t help but wonder what’s happening to Cass now. Did Zevran turn up his vibrator? Maybe he took the cage off.
“I think I’d have my fingers up his ass, stretching him out so I could take him when you were all done.” Alistair clenches down, thinking about it. It’s been so long since he’s touched himself there . Does he remember what it feels like? And what would it feel like for Zevran to be the one doing it?
“So we both could take him?” Yes , Alistair thinks, Please .
“My greedy love. So hard to satisfy. If you were good enough at sucking his cock, perhaps I’d let you fuck him too.”
“Maker, Zev… I want you to cum in my mouth. Please, I need it.”
“We don’t know how long Alistair will be gone. I don’t know if I can be that quick.”
“Do it while he’s here. Cum in my mouth while Alistair listens.”
Fuck . Alistair wants that so bad. He wants to know if Zevran can keep quiet for it. He wants to know what Zevran sounds like when he cums. Maker, he just wants.
“Ah… such clever ideas my love has. You know I can never refuse your schemes, my spoiled prince.” Zevran’s voice is so fond. Alistair wants to be on the other side of that praise; he could be Zevran’s prince, his lovely little pet.
Alistair practically runs back to his office this time. He doesn’t want to keep Cass waiting for his prize. He doesn’t want to wait for it, either. He wants to know what Zevran sounds like, would kill to know what he looks like as he cums.
And then, Alistair has an idea.
“I’m back, Zev, but you know, I’m a little bored of Age of Imperiums right now. Why don’t we watch a movie together instead? It’s been awhile.”
Zevran’s response is, of course, slow and stilted. Cass must have started up in earnest beneath the desk. “Of… Of course, my friend. Why don’t you pick something.”
“Alright! It’s time for The Queen of the Eastern Seas, then.” It’s something easy to watch and that they’ve all seen a dozen times, not to mention that Isabela of Rivain is exactly Zevran’s type. “We should turn on our cameras, too, like old times!”
There’s a pause -- perhaps Zevran is confirming Alistair’s idea with Cassander-- and then the answer, “Of course. I’ve missed that tradition as well, my friend.”
Alistair has never booted up his camera so fast in his life. He checks himself over in the image preview, confirming a lack of stains on his clothes or smudges on his face. He can’t help but want to look good for Zevran. His hands drift up to his henley top and he undoes the first two buttons until his chest hair begins to peek out. Once, after a night of bar crawling, Zevran had admitted that his favorite thing about human men was their body hair, and how he loved when it scratched against his own bare skin. Alistair had spent the rest of that night fantasizing about Zevran and Cassander, tucked into their bed at home, chests rubbing against each other as they kissed until Zevran’s golden skin was pink and flushed. He still thinks about that, and in the darkest depths of night, he even imagines himself pinning Zevran in from behind, and marking up his back as well.
Finally, Zevran’s video feed pops into view and Alistair practically feels his heart leap from his chest. The elf has clearly tried to set himself to rights. His hair is neatly tied back in a ponytail, and his soft, grey v-neck hangs properly from his shoulders. But there’s nothing he can do about his blown out eyes, or the bright flush in his cheeks. A sort of sleepy, satisfied grin spreads across Zevran’s lips.
“Ah, I missed that handsome face of yours, Alistair. We should do this more often.”
Yes, yes, yes . Alistair wants this and more. As much as he can have. Of course, he can’t say that. He has to play it cool. “Heh… flatterer. Here, join my stream.”
And then the movie is playing, jaunty orchestral music over a sweeping view of the glittering ocean, tightening in on a vast, three sailed ship and to a shot of the star, Isabela of Rivain, hip cocked and trademark knives in hand. Alistair, of course, isn’t watching.
His eyes are locked on Zevran’s portrait, in the top right of his screen. The greens and blues of the movie are reflected across his face, glinting off his teeth as he bites into his plush, pink bottom lip.
He must be holding himself back, trying to stay silent, Alistair realizes. He can feel his cock, already half hard, stirring to full mast in his sweatpants. He can’t help himself from wondering what Cass must be doing right now, beneath the desk. Surreptitiously, he mutes the movie and listens.
The quiet sounds of Zevran’s breathing are what he notices most of all, hitching every so often as he holds back a groan of pleasure. And then, so faint he can only make it out if he turns up his volume, is the wet slop of Zevran’s cock driving into Cassander’s mouth, again and again.
Alistair presses his legs together. If he touches himself, will Zevran even notice? He’s so far gone, gaze unfocused on the screen, and it’s clear he’s fighting to even keep his eyelids from fluttering shut. Alistair ruts up against the seam of his boxers. For the first time in his life, he’s wishing he wore jeans on the weekend, so he could at least rub himself off against the zipper. One of his hands wanders in between his thighs to press down against himself and now Alistair’s the one fighting off a groan.
He’s so caught up in it, touching himself to the sight of Zevran, fighting to keep his composure, that he doesn’t even notice when the elf’s eyes slip to the left, watching him from the other side of the screen.
“Alistair…” Zevran breathes, and it’s so raspy and perfect that Alistair can’t do anything but whimper in reply. “Alistair, you know, don’t you?”
Alistair’s heart wants to stop, he wants to freeze, but Zevran’s grinning at him, hungry, and he doesn’t feel anything but the need to tell the truth, to do whatever Zevran wants. Zevran will take care of him; he knows that Alistair’s a good boy.
“Y-Yes… Since the first time I left the call. I h-heard you talking to Cass.”
Zevran croons in commiseration, “So long? Poor darling, you must’ve been aching.”
Alistair nods fervently. He’s grinding harder against his palm now, desperate for the way the crown of his cock rubs into the fabric of his boxers, soaking them with his precum.
“Do you want to see him?” Zevran says it like it’s a secret they’re sharing, like Cass is a special treat just for them and no one else.
Alistair moans and nods again. In a brilliant epiphany, he even remembers to enlarge Zevran’s picture on his screen, letting the elf’s loving smile envelop him in fuzzed out warmth.
Then, the image tilts, scraping past Zevran’s slim shoulders and his lithe torso to settle on his crotch. His thighs are spread and between them is a mop of brown curls. It’s Cass’s head bobbing up and down on Zevran’s cock. And then, his face is turning. He looks up into the camera and winks.
Alistair’s cock jerks against his hand and he swears, “Maker!” Cassander looks absolutely filthy. Zevran’s cock-- uncut, dark brown with a dusky red tip, beautiful, perfect-- is still resting against his lips. His mouth and chin are streaked in spit, his lips swollen and glossy. When he darts his tongue out to lick at Zevran’s slit, it’s just as pink and perfect. Alistair isn’t sure if he wants to be the one Cass is sucking or if he wants to be in Cass’s place, worshiping Zevran’s gorgeous prick.
“C-Can I… Can I see the ropes?” Alistair’s been imagining them for so long.
He can hear Zevran’s patient chuckle, and then the view’s shifting again. Zevran must be rolling his chair back and taking his camera with him, as far as it will stretch. Now Cassander’s whole body is coming into view. He’s kneeling on the ground, arms behind his back. They’re not secured by anything too fancy, just black, silken cords wrapped around his biceps and over his chest. His legs are free, but his cock, of course, isn’t.
The chastity cage is subtle, stainless steel in curling rings that show off Cassander’s cock in pink stripes, breathable and light.
“Beautiful…” Alistair can’t help but murmur.
“If you think that’s good, just wait,” Zevran laughs, “Turn around for him, Cass. Like a good boy.”
Cassander does, and Alistair can see the black cord where it’s looped around his wrists, keeping them tied together at the small of his back. Then, he bends over, chest against the floor to reveal a bright blue jewel plugging up his hole.
Zevran’s hand hovers into view of the camera, holding a small remote. He presses a button and Cass jerks, hips grinding into empty air. Alistair can even see the precum drooling out of the slit in his cock cage. Maker, but that must be the best kind of torture.
“Tell him how pretty he is, Alistair. He likes that,” Zevran commands, the words sounding easy and natural in his Antivan accent. What can Alistair do but obey?”
“Cass… Cass, you look so good like that. Look at you… You’re incredible. So handsome. I want--” Alistair stops himself, not sure how far he should go.
“Go on,” Zevran says, voice soothing, “We want to know everything you’ve been thinking about. We’ll take whatever you’re willing to share, Alistair.”
“C-Cass… your arse is fucking incredible. D-Did you know… that mole you have? I’ve been thinking about it ever since I caught you naked back in basic training,” Alistair’s grinding against his palm in earnest now, using the tingling pleasure to distract from how completely embarrassing it is to admit his years-long crush.
Or, it would be embarrassing if Zevran wasn’t there egging him on, “I know, Alistair. It’s so good, isn’t it? Did you know, if you bite down on it, he makes the cutest little squeak?” And isn’t that a picture? Big, strong Cass Cousland, all sweet and submissive. Alistair wants to hear it. He wants to be the one to draw those small, mewling sounds out of him. Zev could tell him just what to do to get them.
Alistair pants and writhes against his own hand. It’s too good, too much to think about!
“Alistair…” Zevran croons, “Are you touching yourself right now?”
At those words, Cass sits up, instantly on alert. There’s a hunger in his eyes that makes Alistair shiver.
“Y-Yes…” Alistair can’t help but admit. He averts his gaze, suddenly nervous about what Zevran will say, what the both of them will think.
“I want to see.” It’s the first time Cass has spoken up this whole time, and the surprise of his deep rumbling voice sends shivers down Alistair’s spine. “Zev, can I? Please?”
“Can he, Alistair?” Zevran’s tone is neutral, non judgemental. Truly, Alistair can tell that it will be fine no matter what he answers. But the idea of Cass seeing him hard and wanting, of wanting him in return. He just wants to know what that will look like.
“Yes, please.”
As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Zevran’s camera slips sideways to point towards the ceiling. Alistair can catch glimpses of a hand, then the end of the rope flicking through the air, and finally, the camera is upright again on the desk, showing Zevran’s grinning face. He backs away and now Alistair can see Cass over his husband’s shoulder, lounging in the desk chair like some noble lord. Maker, what Alistair wouldn’t give to be his supplicant.
Zevran settles himself into the big Warden’s lap with a happy little wriggle. Cass tucks his chin over his husband’s shoulder and flashes Alistair a lazy grin. “Alright, I think we’re ready to watch the show. Whatcha got for us, sweetheart?”
Alistair flushes, suddenly stammering, caught under their gaze. What does he have for them? He doesn’t have any fancy ropes or sexy lingerie. What goods does he have to peddle here, exactly?
The panic must show on his face, because suddenly Zev is jumping to his rescue, “I know I can never tire of seeing you shirtless. Take it off, darling?”
Alistair can do that. He can definitely do that. He stands slowly until just his torso is in view, and brings his hands up to the collar of his shirt. He pulls, letting the muscles in his arms bunch and jump as the henley comes slowly off, revealing inch by inch of tanned belly and sparse copper hair.
Zevran coos and Cass sighs happily. Pride zips through Alistair’s body at the sounds. He’s doing a good job! Emboldened, now, he whips the shirt off his head and off to the side, a huge grin on his face.
“Is this what you wanted?” He tries to lower his voice a bit, to imitate the husky tones of every hunky male lead he’s ever seen on television.
Alistair gets nothing but a soft gasp in return. Cass’s hand is circled around his husband’s cock, stroking slowly from root to tip, lingering to swipe his fingers across the crown. Zevran’s half lidded eyes are trained on Alistair, happy to watch the show while his husband does all the work.
With his hands suddenly empty, Alistair realizes it must be time for his next act. He slides his hands down his sides to the waistband of his pants and pushes. The soft cotton catches against the bob of his erection, and when he pulls it free with a sharp tug, his cock slaps against his belly hard enough that the sound echoes through his mic.
Cass chuckles, “Someone’s looking excited there, huh?”
Alistair flushes, “Well someone else’s been locked up and can't be excited at all, so… there.”
The big man chooses not to answer and instead buries his face in his husband’s neck, biting down hard enough to make the elf squeak. It’s such a sight that Alistair can’t help but stroke himself while he watches, in time with Cass’s grip on Zevran’s cock.
“You’re missing the show,” Zevran tells his husband, and Cass peeks out, eyes locked on Alistair’s prick. The copper-haired human has never felt so seen, so exposed before. But he loves it; he can practically feel the tingling crawl of their gazes upon him, lighting up his every nerve. A small whimper escapes his lips, as his hand speeds up over his cock.
“Zev, Zev…” The first words of Cass’s plea reach Alistair, but the rest is whispered into the elf’s ear and he can only guess as to what the Warden might be saying. By the way Zevran’s face lights up, it’s either something truly amazing or truly evil.
“Alistair… would you like to play a little game with us?”
“D-Depends. Do I have to stop touching myself? Because I’d really like to… hah… keep doing that, actually.”
“Only for a moment, then I promise you get to touch as much as you like.”
Alistair pretends to mull it over, teases his hand over his cock and gives it a few sharp tugs towards the tip, before finally giving in, “I guess you’ve caught my attention. What’s the game?” He flops into his chair, hands off his prick so he can focus.
“You do exactly what I tell you, nothing more, nothing less, until I’m done with you. I promise to use my powers for good, and I promise that if you tire of the game, just say the word, and it’s done.”
Alistair’s never done something like that before! It sounds so… scandalous, kinky. But then again, he’s showing his body off to a married couple on camera after discovering one of them tied up under a desk in a cock cage, so they’re really long past that threshold. What’s a bit more daring at this point?
“Yes. Let’s try it.”
“Ah, I’m so pleased to hear that, my friend. Now… before we begin. I have a question for you. Do you have any toys?”
“Er… n-nothing too fancy. Just a cocksleeve. And some of my lube is numbing, does that count?”
Zevran sighs and looks over his shoulder at his husband, “Cass, please tell me we can get Alistair some better things to play with than that for next time.” Alistair’s heart flutters at the promise of a “next time” but it practically beats out of his ribcage at Cass’s response.
“Baby, we’ll take him out on a shopping trip, just the three of us, and show him how to use all his new presents when we get home.”
“Hear that, Alistair? You won’t get off so easy again. Forget the toys. Go ahead and touch your nipple for me?”
Feeling daring and just a little bit silly, Alistair presses one finger tip against his right nipple and leaves it there. “I don’t see why you want me to do this, but you’re the boss I guess…” He heaves a fake sigh.
“He’s a brat just like you when you sub,” Cass grumbles, “Alistair, you better touch yourself properly now or we’ll be edging you til you can’t see straight. Be a good boy for us.”
Well, if it means being a good boy , what else is Alistair supposed to do? He begins stroking around his nipple in small circles til it pebbles up like he wants. He doesn’t play with himself like this very much, it’s always felt too sensual and extravagant for his perfunctory morning wanks, and he’s almost forgotten how sensitive his chest can be. When Alistair lets out a little whimper of pleasure, he’s not even really playing it up for show.
“Beautiful… There’s our sweet boy,” Zevran praises, “Now spread your legs for us? So perfect…”
Alistair’s free hand is now twitching on his thigh. He wants desperately to touch himself, the combination of praise and his friends’ watchful gazes making him needy and sensitive all over. But he won’t. Zevran hasn’t said he can yet. And he wants to be a good boy.
“Run your hand up your thigh, precious. Nice and slow,” Cass says, “If we were there right now, that would be my hand. You have such beautiful legs, Alistair. I want to touch every inch of them.”
“You can touch your balls if you’d like,” Zevran adds, “I’d say he’s earned it, wouldn’t you, my love?”
“Oh, yes. Alistair’s being the most patient pet for us. Such a good boy…”
The warm cup of his own hand on his sack makes Alistair almost want to cry with relief. He’s never been told not to touch before. He almost thought that was the whole point of the thing, but the wait is worth it for the relief he feels as he rolls his balls between his fingers.
“Ah, so handsome… Look, Zev, he’s leaking for us. Don’t you just want to lick it up?”
“Mmm… or swallow him down whole.”
“Or let him do the swallowing. He’d look so pretty on his knees.”
“Alistair,” Zevran’s words bring him back to himself, “Have you ever sucked a cock before?”
“N-No,” he stammers in response, and then because he’s still feeling daring, “No, sir.”
Alistair doesn’t hear an answer for a moment, only a gentle, whimpering murmur. Cass is leaning in close to Zevran’s ear, whispering quickly. Zev seems to ignore him and turns to Alistair instead.
“Darling, I’m going to give you a very important decision to make. Do you think you can handle it?”
“Yes, yes… Anything.” Alistair can handle it. He’s their good boy.
“Perfect, angel. Now… Should I let Cass out of his cage? He thinks you’re so handsome. Wants to show you how much he wants you.”
Cass’s eyes burn into Alistair. His grip on the arms of the desk chair is tight, his whole body coiled in anticipation of the answer. Alistair wants to make him wait.
“Hah… I don’t know, Zev, do you think he’s earned it? He… He didn’t make you cum in his mouth like he promised, did he?”
Cass whines , shooting the most betrayed, hang dog look imaginable at Alistair . “I was going to! It’s your fault you’re so obvious when you touch yourself that Zev caught you!”
Zevran laughs, a delighted, slightly villainous sound, “Boys, please. No fighting, or I’ll have to punish you both. And I would much rather give my good boys treats. Wouldn’t you?”
Cass huffs and buries his face in Zevran’s neck again. It’s so cute that Alistair can’t help but drop his teasing.
“Alright, alright… Let him out, Zev. He’s absolutely desperate for it, isn’t he?”
“Now what do you say to Alistair, my love?” Zevran is up from the chair now and bent over Cassander’s lap, presumably to unlock his chastity cage, and Alistair is treated to an absolutely incredible view of his bare ass. Almost good enough to break the rules and start touching his cock, but he holds himself back. Cass would absolutely rat him out.
“Nnn…” Cassander sighs as the device slips off his prick, “Th-Thank you, Alistair.”
Zevran kisses him, quick and dirty on the lips before moving somewhere offscreen. Cass smacks his ass on the way out, and it resonates over the airwaves and into Alistair’s headset in the most delicious way.
Cass turns his attention back to his screen, once again the noble lord, leaning on one elbow, slowly stroking himself to full hardness. He considers Alistair, eyes roving up and down over his body with a calculating edge that makes the copper haired Warden shiver.
“Alright, love,” that nickname makes his stomach swoop in a way that has nothing to do with how hard he is after all the teasing, “I want to see something. Get out of that chair and onto the ground for me.”
Alistair does as he’s bid, first adjusting his camera to account for the new position. Cass lets out an appreciative little growl when all that fiddling gives him a close up view of Alistair’s cock, cut length flushed and desperate looking from all the edging. Finally, Alistair is sitting on the floor for Cassander, cross legged, elbows resting on his knees.
Cass nods once. He’s a harder one to please than Zevran, Alistair thinks, excited for the challenge.
“On your knees for me.” Alistair obeys, curious. “Just like that. Good. You can touch yourself.”
Alistair does, of course, and the feeling is absolute bliss after ignoring the ache between his legs for so long.
This is when Zev comes back into the picture, hands empty, and Alistair isn’t quite sure what he left to go do-- let the dog out, maybe? Cass leans back in his chair, making room in his lap for his husband to crawl right back up into it.
Zevran, from his new perch, looks down at Alistair consideringly, “What are you doing on the floor, precious?”
“What I told him to do,” Cass says, like it’s obvious.
“Ahh… What a good boy. Why’d you move him?” They’re completely ignoring Alistair at this point and he feels like he should be annoyed by it, but he likes the way they make him wait at attention for their orders, a pretty piece of decoration for them to manipulate however they see fit.
“I wanted to see what he’d look like down there. Tilt your head up, Alistair. Open your mouth.” Alistair doesn’t exactly see why he’s doing it, but of course he does. “See, Zev? That’s what he’ll look like when he catches my cum after you jerk me off for him.”
Alistair jerks himself harder, unable to muffle the moan that tumbles out of his mouth with it open like this. He wants to know what Cass’s cum feels like splattered across his chin, what it’ll taste like. He’d swallow every drop he could and ask to clean the Warden’s cock up with his mouth afterward.
“See, he likes it,” Cass sounds thoroughly pleased with himself, “And he’ll like the taste of me even better. And you.”
“I’ll go first, of course.”
“O-Of course… Hah…” Alistair whips his head up to see what’s made Cass stutter like that. Zevran’s changed his position on his husband’s lap, legs straight out in front of him, squeezed together and oh . Alistair can see the head of Cass’s cock popping up between his husband’s thighs which are now slick and glistening with lube. Zev’s rubbing his balls up against the crown of it when he can, eyes locked onto Alistair.
“Nobody told you that you could look up, pet,” Zev’s tone is disappointed but amused, “Hands off your cock, no more touching for you.”
But he’s so close! Alistair whines, but does as he’s told, hands clenched on his knees to stop them from wandering where they’re not supposed to.
“Poor baby…” Zevran coos, “Needs something to distract him.”
“Want you,” Alistair whines, practically delirious with need.
“You have us,” Cass’s tone is deep and reassuring, “Now, I think you need some distraction, don’t you? Get you focused on something besides that needy prick, huh?”
Alistair considers just begging to get to touch himself again, but he hasn’t been led astray yet, so he nods his consent to Cass.
“Good. Spread your legs nice and wide for us, then. Spit on your fingers.” Alistair has somewhat of an idea where this could be going and his belly flutters nervously. He’s tried this before, but it’s been so long. “Now you can play with that little hole of yours for us.”
Alistair begins nice and slow, one finger circling around his pucker, getting himself used to the sensation. He knows they can’t see it, just his arm stretching behind his back so he tries to put on a bit of show of the whole thing, sighing into the touch and pushing out his chest for them.
“Absolutely gorgeous, darling…” Zevran breathes, “Look at that chest of yours… I can just imagine you all wrapped up in lace for us.”
As Alistair slips the tip of his index finger into his hole, he’s imagining himself in a pair of stockings and a pale pink bralette, just like one of his girlfriends had. He’d loved running his hands up and down her thighs and feeling the soft lace under his fingers, seeing her dusky nipples half-hidden behind the fabric. What would it feel like to be that soft himself, dressed like a pretty frosted cake?
“Do I get to pick the color?” he practically whines, rocking his finger back and forth, just inside his rim.
“We’d never make you pick. Just buy the whole goddamn store for you, love. Give you a different color for every day of the week.” Peeking out from beneath his lowered lashes, Alistair can see Cass fucking Zev’s thighs in earnest now, holding the elf tight against his chest. “How does that sound?”
It sounds fucking incredible. He imagines them coming home to him spread out on the bed in lingerie, already toying with himself, fingering his hole just like he is right now. Except then, they could take him, one after the other until his stockings are ruined with cum and lube and his bralette is torn from how quick they pull it off him.
He’s up to the third knuckle inside himself and he crooks his finger, searching for that spot that makes him see stars. “Please… Please, I want it…” he moans.
“We’ll give you everything you want, darling,” Zevran says, voice unsteady, “We’ll take you apart and put you back together again, fuck you until you can’t walk anymore. Tuck you into bed and do it all again in the morning. Fuck… I can’t wait to dress you and Cass up just the same. My perfect boys, my matching set.”
A jet of pre spurts out of Cassander’s cock and onto his husband’s belly and the big man buries his face into Zevran’s shoulder again. He’s shaking with need, only minutes away from the edge and barrelling towards it.
Alistair wants to join him, but he’s just up to two fingers in his ass now, cock only half hard against his leg after the lack of attention. At least he can watch Cass fall apart. He’s heard it before, in the dead of night in their old shared bunk, Cass sighing out his release with one fist shoved between his teeth to keep himself quiet. But he’s never seen .
Zevran’s still talking, with no signs of slowing down, “I can’t wait for you both to get on your knees for me. Would you like that, Alistair? Want to help Cass beg for my cock? I have to wonder… would you want me to finish on your face or in your mouth? Let me guess…” Zevran taps his chin, pretending to think, letting his eyes rove all over Alistair’s naked body. “My precious darling would want to swallow it all down so his pretty panties stay all clean. Is that right?”
Alistair shakes his head, feeling wild and shameless. His blush has spread all the way down to his chest now and his heart is pounding thinking about Zevran’s cum splattered onto it, covering up the splotchy pink with creamy white.
“Did you hear that, baby?” Zevran asks Cass, “Alistair wants to be filthy for us. Don’t you, sweetheart?”
He nods again, pressing his fingers up inside himself and there . Alistair hits his prostate and buckles forward, catching himself on one hand and fucking inside his hole with the other, driving into his sweet spot again and again, unable to stop.
“Fuck… Zev, I’m gonna…” Cass sounds as desperate as Alistair feels. He wants to see what the big man looks like when he falls apart, so he musters up the strength to raise his head and watch as Cassander drives his cock between his husband’s thighs one last time before releasing with a groan of pleasure. There’s so much of it, spattering up onto Zevran’s belly, his chest, even all the way to his chin. And Cass is still coming, the plug that’s vibrating against his prostate helping him pour wave after wave of jizz over Zevran’s thighs. Finally, he stops, spent, forehead flopping against Zevran’s back. Alistair can hear his panting breaths coming in over the headset, loud and ragged.
Zevran clicks off the vibrator’s remote and tosses it onto the desk, leaning back against Cass with a satisfied smirk. He trails one finger up his belly, gathering up his husband’s mess. Alistair watches as the elf holds his hand out for Cass and the big man dutifully laps up his own spunk.
“Thank you, sir,” Cass gasps out and Alistair feels like if he died right here and now, he would go to the afterlife happy.
“You’re welcome, pet,” Zevran pats him on the head, smirking at Alistair as if to say ‘look how good our boy is, how obedient .’
“He… He made such a mess,” Alistair murmurs, still rubbing against his prostate, “Wish I was there to… hah… clean it up for him.”
“Did you hear that, Cass? Alistair is such a helpful boy,” Zevran coos, “But I suppose you’ll have to do all the work yourself this time.” He stands, seed trickling slow and tacky down his thighs, and gestures for Cass to do the same.
The Warden has come back to himself, and he only wobbles a little when he gets on his feet again. He starts at Zevran’s chin, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the cum splatter left there, and then moves down. Even on his knees, he reaches Zevran’s belly, and it’s a simple task to lean up and lick away each spare drop of his mess.
As Cass works, Zevran pets his hair in fond, absent strokes, tangling his long fingers in that mop of brown curls. He meets Alistair’s gaze and shares another one of those secret smiles. They’re the only two people in the world right now, the only ones that get to see Cass like this, soft and pliant, dutiful.
Cassander mumbles something against Zevran’s thigh and the elf tugs on his hair gently, making his head turn to Alistair.
“Say it again, baby. Louder for him.” Zevran instructs.
“It… It tastes so good, Alistair. It’s bitter an’... an’ I know I should hate it but it tastes like the both of us, me ‘n Zev. I want to know what you taste like, too.” Cass’s eyes are big and hazy, so earnest it hurts.
“Maker… I want it, too. I’ve wanted this for so long, Cass, this doesn’t even feel real. Fuck…” Alistair’s wrist is cramping, but he doesn’t want to stop working his fingers inside himself. It feels like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded and if he slips them out, he might just float away.
“Hah…” Zevran gasps. Cass has reached Zevran’s balls now, and he’s licking them gently, spending more time than he really needs to lavishing his husband’s sack with attention, clearly loving how it makes him squirm. “Alistair… Ali, we’ve wanted you back. Always… always wanted you. Maker, love, touch your cock for us.”
“Tell me,” Alistair pleads, slicking up his palm with spit and finally, finally taking himself in hand. “I never… I never noticed. You’re saying you really wanted me? All this time?”
Cass nods against the crook of Zevran’s thigh, “Yes… By the maker, yes . Did you know… our first time together, you were in the room with us? We… we hadn’t meant for you to be. Just… couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We didn’t notice you were asleep in your bunk and by the time we heard you rolling over, uh…”
“Fuck, Alistair, by then, he was already balls deep in my ass and he was too scared to pull out because he thought he’d hurt me,” Zevran laughs, tousling Cass’s hair fondly. “I told him it would be fine if he went slow, but he insisted.”
“I didn’t know how any of that shit worked! I was like eighteen!” Cass bites Zevran’s thigh hard enough to leave a mark and gets shoved onto all fours for his trouble. He begrudgingly begins collecting all the spunk that made it that far down with his tongue.
“I don’t remember that at all,” Alistair admits, “I must’ve been dead asleep.”
“Of course we tried to keep quiet for you. We’re very respectful roommates!” Zevran does his best to sound indignant but fails.
“Your version of keeping quiet was biting the shit out of my shoulder if I recall correctly,” Cassander grumbles, “I had bruises for weeks.”
“But you liked me trying to keep quiet for you,” Zevran purrs, “That’s why you kept shoving me into broom closets and sucking me off.”
“What can I say? You’re talented at it. We never got caught, not once.”
Alistair’s knees are beginning to hurt so he shifts into a sitting position, legs spread out in front of him, one hand still lazily stroking his cock. “I can’t believe you two were such exhibitionists and I never knew it.”
“I’m honestly surprised you didn’t find out sooner,” Cass laughs, “We, uh… Well, that’s not the only time we’ve fucked in front of you. Tell him, Zev.” With this command, Cassander lowers his head to his husband’s cock and begins to suck.
Zevran rolls his eyes and fists his hand in his husband's hair, but he does his best to tell the story anyway, “Alistair… r-remember those Friday dinners we used to have at the Spoiled Princess?”
“Yes…? It was right after Cass and I came off active duty. We were trying not to lose touch, you know, not being roommates anymore and all that.”
“Well, do you remember the time when Cass got, uh… ‘food poisoning’ and I was in the bathroom with him for half an hour?”
“Vaguely…” Alistair is incredibly intrigued to know how gastric distress fits in with the theme of ‘kinky exhibitionist shenanigans.’
“That’s… That was the first night we tried out our vibrating plug. He was wearing it the whole time. I… I jacked it up every time you asked him a question, so he’d have to talk through the pleasure.”
Alistair remembers now. Cass had been hazy and flushed the whole evening-- which Alistair later attributed to his supposed illness-- and it was difficult not to picture that face in a different context, with Cass in a bed spread out beneath Zevran, getting his hole eaten out as Alistair watched. And the whole time, Cass actually had been as aroused as Alistair had imagined.
“Did… Did you touch him under the table, too?” Alistair has to know.
Zevran nods, biting his lip as he chases his pleasure, rocking into his husband’s mouth. “Fuck, of course I did… I wanted to know if he could be a good boy for me, keep nice and quiet. I had to reward him. I… I fucked him up against the bathroom wall and plugged my cum up inside him. And I gave him another load when we got home, took him over the kitchen table and told him to imagine you were there to go after me.”
Alistair wants to imagine it, too: filling up Cass with as much as he can take, or better yet, to be the one pressed against the tabletop, cock rubbing against the unforgiving hardwood as Cass and Zev pound into him over and over.
He tries to tell Zev, but the words won’t come out right, he’s too fuzzy to string them together. But the elf understands anyway.
“I know… I know, precious. You have us now. Any way you want us. Maker, Alistair…” Zevran hunches over, cradling Cass’s head in his hands and rutting over and over into the Warden’s mouth. “I’m so close. Fuck!”
Alistair watches with greedy eyes as Zevran falls apart. “I’ve always wanted to know what you would look like, Zev… So fucking gorgeous. Every time you make one of your flirtatious little jokes, I’m halfway to jumping your bones. Next time I see you, I swear… I’m going to fucking ruin you.”
Zevran whimpers and his hips jutter to a halt. The muscles in his thighs flex and Alistair can see Cass’s throat working around his husband’s shaft, milking him of every last drop. Zevran’s still making these mewling, desperate little noises. He’s been edged for so long, Alistair can’t even imagine how much of a relief this must be, to finally cum .
When Cassander pulls away, a milky white string of jizz and spit connects him to Zevran’s prick. It breaks and smears itself down his chin. He turns to look at Alistair and licks it off with a little wink. Cass looks so satisfied, like the cat who got the cream. But then his eyes lock onto Alistair’s cock and he bites his lip, like he’s decided he does want more after all.
“You know… I don’t think we’ve even told you the time you were closest to catching us.”
A thrill zips up Alistair’s spine. This he has to hear. “Go on.”
Cass gets himself back up into his chair and pulls Zev back onto his lap, letting the elf loll against his shoulder while he recovers.
“It was the weekend after a long work week, and we wanted to unwind, so we’d basically been just fucking all day. But Zev had been a bad boy earlier, tried to get lazy about stretching himself for me. And what does that mean, Zev, honey?”
“I got the cage all day. No cumming,” the elf slurs with a cock drunk smile.”
“That’s right, love. Good job. Well… with that whole hubbub I had kind of forgotten that you were coming over for games. So, uh… when you stopped by, we weren’t exactly… finished.”
Alistair thinks he knows what day they’re talking about now. He had let himself in the front door, called hello, and was met with silence. The entire house was empty-- or so he thought. He remembers wandering through just about every room waiting for Zev or Cass to text him back. He hadn’t driven there, but had his friend Leliana drop him off, and he wasn’t exactly sure what to do if no one was around. In the end, he’d just flopped down on the bed and played games on his phone until Lel was able to turn around and get him.
“But wait…” Alistair says, “You definitely weren’t there. I looked all over and I was in your bedroom for like thirty minutes. I would’ve seen you!”
“We were in the bathroom.”
“I-I checked in there. I swear I did!”
“Not behind the shower curtain.”
Oh, fuck . Their bathroom isn’t that big. He’d walked all the way inside of it, too. Alistair had been just inches away from where they must’ve been hiding, breath held and waiting for him to pass them by.
“What… What were you doing?” He has to know, he just has to.
“I had Zev face first against the tile wall. I was going to fuck him from behind in there, but well…” Cass sounds almost bashful, “I just couldn’t help myself. I came practically the second I heard you in the bathroom with us.”
And Alistair had never even noticed. Cass was just on the other side of a flimsy piece of black fabric, emptying himself into his husband’s ass and Alistair had been none the wiser. Fuck. What if he’d ripped the curtain open, caught Cassander buried to the hilt, trying to hide his moans. Zevran, cum dripping down his thighs, still caged and squirming. He can’t let the picture go.
“While you were in the bedroom, I was licking the cum out of his hole. He did so good at keeping quiet for me, Ali. You should’ve seen him biting down on his hand, fighting back those cute little moans of his.”
But there’s no need to keep quiet now. Alistair lets his own groans fall from his lips as he pictures Zev, blissed out and needy, fist between his teeth. Cass on his knees behind him, worshipping that perfect ass of his. Fuck . He’s so close!
“Come for us, love,” Zevran whispers, the last command of his little game.
And what can Alistair do but obey? He spurts all over his own hand and up onto his belly, fighting off the need to close his eyes so he can keep looking at Zev and Cass, curled around each other but watching him , wanting him, leading him and loving him like no one else in the world can.
“Next time,” Alistair pants, “Next time you’d better tell me. I want to join you.”
“Of course, darling,” Zev says.
Cassander laughs. “Anything you want.”