Goldilocks and His Three Bears (12 page)

Jim cupped his head, letting his fingers soothe Scott's brow.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

Scott opened dazed golden eyes. “Wow.”

Jim smiled.

Scott's gaze wandered and spotted Brian and Paul.

“You son of a bitch,” he said to Brian, smile a little dazed and crooked. “This is all your fault.”

Jim helped Scott sit and then stand. Now both men had small gold rings in their left nipples.

Brian nodded. “You match.”

Scott's eyelids lowered. His cheeks went pink. “Yeah, I wanted... uh... ”

And Jim's arms were around him again, tilting his face up and kissing him long and hard.

When they separated, Scott's entire golden body had flushed a deep amber, the hairs standing up all over him. Dazzled eyes smiled up into Jim's.

“Well,” said Roger. He was standing at his tool shelf, cleaning things. “I might have to give my honey a call and get out of here early.”

“Sorry, Roger.”

“Hey, don't sweat it, Snake Man. One of the perks of the job.” Roger's smile was pure devil.

They rang up and left, Scott and Brian with bottles of alcohol and instructions.

“Home?” asked Jim.

“Yes!” chimed three voices.

Brian couldn't have said exactly why, but the living room had always been a kind of sex-free zone. Groups tended to go to someone's bedroom when things got hot.

This time no one made it.

“Oh God. Oh fuck... ” Scott seemed to be working his way through a dictionary of curse words, but the man was draped half across the leather couch, jeans still bunched around one ankle, one hand dug into the cushions, the other dug into Jim's butt, urging Jim on.

Jim dutifully did his best. Hips pistoning, thick cock slamming into Scott's bubble butt over and over like a battering ram.

Brian watched them, feeling his clothing falling away from him, Paul's hands like some kind of magic wand, making him naked, thick fingers at his hole, pushing in something slick and warm, and then Brian's head was a foot away from Scott's, one ear pressing into the leather, the piercings carefully kept clear as Paul pushed the coffee table, screeching, out of the way and gripped Brian's hips in both hands.

“Christ. So good... ” yelled Scott, eyes screwing up. And Paul filled Brian in one shove.

“Jim baby, oh honey, make me come.”

Paul was nailing his prostate over and over, hand stroking Brian's cock, other hand still holding his hip.

“That's it. Fuck. Oh fuck... ” And Scott's chin lifted, back arched, free hand clawing wildly at the seat cushion.

Jim made a weirdly inhuman sound. Like a bear rooting for something, breath huffing. A grunt, and he and Scott were frozen, both quivering all over.

Paul made some kind of noise himself, his strokes speeding up, and Brian felt his Daddy freeze against him.

Then Brian was spun about, butt hitting the wood floor, and Paul's mouth sucked his cock, hard and fast, and before Brian could think about it, or worry about it, he was coming into Paul's throat.

Like they'd been hit by lightning, thought Brian dazedly, gazing around at the bodies strewn over and beside the leather sofa. He reached out and folded his fingers around Scott's hand. His friend's head turned, golden eyes happy and peaceful.

“Hey there, sugar,” said Scott, his voice still hoarse from the screaming.

Later, Brian stood in the bathroom frowning in the mirror at Paul, who stood behind him, wiping the last bit of shaving cream from behind his ears. “You shouldn't have let me come in your mouth,” said Brian.

Paul's eyes flicked up and met Brian's in the mirror. “I know it.”

Brian let his deepening concern show.

“Hey,” said Paul. He pointed a big thumb at his own chest. “Human being here. Are you the only one who can make a mistake?”

Brian felt his eyes widen to cartoon proportions. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, I'm sorry. It's just... ”

Paul sighed. “No. No, I'm sorry.” He wrapped his arms around Brian's torso, burying his face in Brian's curls. “You tasted so good,” he said miserably. “I wish... ”

“Me too,” said Brian. “I think about it, Daddy. I wish too. But Jim and Scott aren't... ”

Paul's brows furrowed. “Maybe that has changed.”

“Scott told me,” said Brian. “He's not the monogamous type.”

“That was before Jim,” said Paul. “I think we should call another meeting.”

It was adorable, really, how much his Daddy was all about rules and expectations. Paul loved to call a meeting. Brian and Scott were in the kitchen, crushing tin cans for the recycling barrel, though. And they settled it all ahead of time.

“You want to keep playing these days?” Brian asked casually, fitting a can into the squasher.

“Playing?”

Well, right. Scott played lots of things. Soccer, tennis... “You know what I mean,” said Brian.

Scott grinned, a big dimple flashing in one tanned cheek.

“Yeah, I know what you mean, Goldilocks.” He set the contraption on the floor and stomped on it with one foot. It made a satisfying sound of crunching metal. “Nope. Guess not,” said Scott. The dimple flashed again as the smile turned to one of chagrin. “Never thought I could get enough, you know? But... ”

“Jim's sweet.”

“So are you, sugar,” said Scott. “So's that scary top you drag around behind you.”

“If we all get tested, we can go bareback,” said Brian. He worked the squished can out and tossed it into the blue bin.

“Okay,” said Scott.

So actually, the meeting in the living room with his big old Daddy and Momma Bears sitting there looking so serious was really nothing more than a formality. To make their men feel like they had a say in things. You know?

They were all shaking hands within a few minutes, Jim looking a little waylaid and Scott looking happy and pink.

Paul called the clinic and made them all appointments, and then all they had to do was wait.

Brian thought he might pop.

And, even better, the next day Scott pulled Brian back into his party of two.

Brian wasn't even thinking about it. He'd grown semireconciled to the idea that Scott and Jim were going to be exclusive for a while. The fact that they'd agreed to testing, to the assumption that all four of them needed to be, reassured him that sooner or later things would be back to normal. Or whatever this was that passed for normal.

So Brian was standing in the kitchen, watering one of the few plants that you couldn't smoke or ingest, when Scott came tooling in wearing a soccer uniform and tossing the ball back and forth between his hands.

“Game was cancelled,” he said. “Wanna kick it around with me?”

“Sure.”

They ran in a wide circle around each other, kicking the black and white ball back and forth between them. Brian tried a fancy little kick and, of course, the ball went too high, looped sideways and bounced up onto the garage roof.

They stood side by side looking up at where it had landed.

“We've got a ladder?” suggested Scott.

“Nuh-uh.” Brian shook his head. “We'll wait for Paul to get home.” He felt Scott's hand on his shoulder, traveling downward. Sweaty and hot, and five strong fingers squeezing one ass cheek. His eyes slid sideways to meet Scott's.

“Mmm.” Scott gave Brian's ass another squeeze. “Could handle this for a while instead.”

“You sure?” Brian was conscious of himself wiggling his ass into those fingers.

“Sure I'm sure,” said Scott, dragging Brian by his T-shirt and whatever else he could get hold of and urging him toward the house.

Brian's cock was hilt-deep in Scott's ass when Jim appeared in the doorway.

“Oh.” Brian looked up at his Momma Bear, not knowing what to expect. But Jim's eyes were warm brown and shining.

“Prettiest thing I've seen in weeks,” said Jim, peeling his shirt off as he crossed the room.

Everybody scooted down so Jim could position himself at Scott's head, feeding that fat cock slowly between Scott's eager lips while Brian held Scott's hips and schooled himself to stillness until his friend adapted.

Jim started making little crooning noises, his fingers playing over Scott's scalp, breathing through his mouth as he watched his lover's lips stretched over his cock. He raised glazed eyes to Brian and managed a sort of loopy grin.

Scott's ass was wriggling and pushing toward Brian, and he chose to take that as a sign and allowed himself to start rocking again. Slowly in and out, his balls pushing against that hard butt with every forward movement. The channel around him clenched hard as Jim groaned and Brian's brains went down that slippery slope and he grabbed Scott's hips and shoved hard.

Everybody growled and moaned, and a general shudder seemed to move through their three joined torsos.

Brian was sliding his hands around Scott's sweat-slick belly to find his cock when he heard a low growl and felt the bounce of the mattress under his knees as a weight of some sort landed there.

A hand on his thigh. A deep chuckle. Paul worked his way closer to Brian. A mouth on his back, down his spine. Brian shivered and jerked hard into Scott as Paul's mouth found his crease and his tongue started a pointed trail downward.

Jim moaned again, lashes flickering as he watched this. The prick between Brian's fingers leaking copiously, thickening and then pulsing even as his own orgasm began to mount. Jim made a soft, helpless noise, and he blushed bright red as his fingers clenched around Scott's skull.

Brian was panting, still pumping, feeling Scott's orgasm around his cock and Paul's tongue at his entrance. Then he was wailing and coming and, almost simultaneously, being pulled out and flipped over, and then Paul's cock went where Paul's tongue had been.

He held his lover's head as Paul found his release, his own orgasm still shivering up and down his torso as he felt Paul stiffen, his head buried against Brian's shoulder.

They all lay there gasping. It was funny how he regained consciousness, thought Brian. Like bits of him woke up. His head became aware of Scott's hand resting on it. His foot felt the fur of Jim's calf under his toes. And, Paul's mouth on his neck, mumbling endearments.

“Holy shit.” Scott's fervent curse in a hoarse whisper broke the enchanted silence.

Jim chuckled. Paul worked his way off Brian and sat up, looking around. “There are clothes all over the floor.”

“You see my brains anywhere in there?” asked Scott plaintively. Jim worked his way down next to him and hugged the man's body against his. They snuggled. Brian watched with a bemused feeling. His eyes met Paul's, and they shared a smile.

“I'm starving,” announced Brian to the room. And that got them all moving.

“I got my grades,” said Brian casually as they sat and ate.

Paul looked at him.

Brian produced the much-folded envelope from his back pocket, grinning like an idiot. Kind of ruined the surprise, but, hey.

Looking almost as nervous as if he were opening his own grades, Paul drew the piece of paper from the envelope, scanned its contents, looked up at Brian. Man, thought Brian, what he wouldn't give to have Paul looking at him like that forever.

“Straight As,” Paul announced to the other two men, holding the envelope aloft and still gazing at Brian like he was some kind of hero. “And honors in economics.” He positively beamed.

Brian pumped his fists over his head. “I rock.”

Scott slapped his back, hooting. And Jim shook his hand. And this was only the first semester, thought Brian.

Jim poured orange juice into his glass and hemmed in that way he had before making some deep pronouncement. “This living situation seems to be working well for you, Brian. Judging by your grades.”

Brian looked at Paul. At Scott. “Yeah.”

“I'm happy,” said Jim simply. And he looked at Scott. His eyes were... surprised.

“Me too,” said Scott, that same shocked look on his face.

Paul grinned at Brian and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed across his chest. A terribly satisfied look on his face. “So... more of the same?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Brian. “Good food, good sex.”

“Maybe some discipline?” asked Scott innocently.

Jim chuckled. “The occasional group hug.”

“Mmm,” said Brian. “I'd like one of those now.”

“Already, Goldilocks?” Scott laughed.

“Goldilocks,” Jim repeated with a bemused smile. “How does that story end?”

Brian grabbed hold of his Momma Bear's beard and gave it a playful tug. “They ate him all up?”

“Grrr,” said his bears. And proceeded to do so.

AM Riley is a film editor and sometime poet living and working in Los Angeles, California. Besides writing murder mysteries and urban paranormal, Riley loves ice hockey, police blogs, and politics.

Riley loves feedback and pictures of your pets or any ice hockey players you've managed to get close to.

You can find Riley at www.amriley.net

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