The Delaneys At Home (5 page)

Fair enough. I'd been wondering about this myself, and it was good to have the issue answered, once and for all. I couldn't help smiling, so when Melissa looked at me for confirmation of Mark's statement of sexual freedom, I was grinning from ear to ear like a chocoholic at Easter.

She smirked. "Point taken. He certainly doesn't look like a man who wants to say no. Thank you, Mark."

Before carrying on, Melissa paused and took another sip of her brandy. It struck me how we three men were now hanging on her every word, while she was milking every glorious second of it. I couldn't blame her. I tended to do the same myself.

"Yes," she finally said. "Liam used to paint, and I've had one or two of his pictures in the gallery in the past, but they weren't easy to sell."

"Why not?" This from Johnny.

Melissa hesitated and, from under my fringe, I saw her glance at me.

"Tell us," Mark said. "We're all adult enough to hear whatever you've got to say."

"Alright. Liam's pictures didn't sell as, although he has a lot of talent, they weren't as good as his father's."

Ouch indeed. I was all for honesty, and my boss had never been known to pull her punches, but I had to admit I drew in a breath. Loud enough for Mark to give me a stern look, but, hey, it wasn't words, and I'd kept his command.

"So he decided to give it up," Melissa continued, "and work
with
art, rather that
at
it. And that's what he's been doing ever since."

"But what about the row with his father?"

Despite all the threat of Mark's fury, I opened my mouth to deny the existence of any such row--which had, in effect, been nothing more than a disagreement about my decision, and
both my father and I were over it--
when Johnny no doubt took pity on how much punishment I might actually be in line for and got in first.

"I don't think it was a full-scale row," he said. "Not like the ones you and I have with folks. Nobody died anyway."

Mark shrugged. "A row is a row. It's not my fault other people don't have weapons or the will to use them."

"True. But all Mrs. O'Connell told me was how Liam's father hadn't wanted him to give it up, but Liam was determined this was exactly what he would do. We were only chatting, that's all."

This last statement was directed at me, as now I was staring at him, eyes wide and jaw slack. Johnny had chatted with my mother? When had he done that? And, more importantly,
what the hell else had they talked about?
Visions of my mother getting a literal blow-by-blow account of what the twins and I had been up to lately filled my head, until I was ready to swear I'd be booking the nearest therapist the second I was allowed to talk again. But as I continued to stare at Johnny, he shook his head and grimaced.

"I'm not sure Liam even needs to be able to speak to show us what he's thinking," he chuckled. "You'd never make it in our business. But no, we didn't talk about anything you wouldn't tell her yourself."

"Though she has seen rather more of us than would be expected at a first meeting," Mark pointed out.

Melissa's eyebrows almost disappeared into her hair at this point. "No, don't tell me. Please. Yes, I do know Liam and his father argued, but they're fine now. All families have their moments."

Mark nodded and looked thoughtful. "Ours are short and tend to be terminal, for some."

That was certainly true. And nobody knew it better than the Delaneys, but at least my own father was still alive. Without warning, Mark spoke to me.

"We could bring this particular problem to an end, if you wished it and if it still bothers you, Liam. Entirely up to you, of course, but I can recommend..."

The sight of my wide and terrified eyes brought Mark to a stop, thank God, as I didn't like to think of my father lying in a gutter somewhere in town with his brains blown out. My mother, for one, would never forgive me.

"Ah," said Mark, "I see my suggestion isn't popular. You're right about Liam's eyes, Johnny. Good job he has other skills with his mouth. In fact, I can think of several things he can do very well with his mouth, which don't involve words at all."

Melissa coughed and put down her drink with more force than she maybe meant to, as Johnny jumped and then tried to make it look as if he hadn't. Which brought another bout of coughing from Melissa. I made a mental note to buy her a packet of throat sweets if it was the last thing I did, just as Johnny entered the fray.

"Perhaps we should ask Melissa what we brought her here for first," he said, "and then we can continue our evening."

Mark sighed, then nodded. "Yes, well said, little brother. Business before pleasure. So, Melissa, if Liam did decide to paint again, what would you recommend?"

My boss patted the corner of her lips with the napkin and smiled. "He has talent, but I'd keep away from doing what his father does. Any artist has to find his own style and make it grow. That takes time, and balls, if I may say so."

Mark leaned forward and clasped his hands together. "Oh, you can say so, and don't worry. Liam has the time, and we have the balls."

"Oh good," she replied with a bright smile, then with one of those great leaps of logic which made her the boss and me the gopher, asked, "So what you're asking me is if Liam brought something else, something different, to the gallery for consideration, would I think about taking it?"

Johnny laughed, and even Mark looked impressed, though only for a moment or two before his customary dour expression returned.

"Yes," he said, "that's what I'm asking. Liam's family now, and we Delaneys always want what's best for family. So what do you say, Melissa?"

When she answered, she gazed right at me and paid the twins no heed at all.

"I always have an open mind toward any artist who comes to me," she said. "And I'll be honest with my opinion, no matter who it is or whom they know. That's my duty. But what I would say is this: Liam could do well if he decided to take up his art again and be committed to pursuing his own style. And, staff member or no staff member, I'd be interested in taking a look."

"Thank you," said Mark. "That's all we needed to know."

With that, the conversation moved on to other issues, but my head was too full of what Mark had said about us being family to take any of it in. It was a surprise when Melissa rose to leave.

"See you on Monday," she said. "Enjoy your weekend, Liam."

"That depends," Mark muttered, his tone turning darker, "on how he takes his punishment for not telling us the entire truth. Because there has to be a reckoning, you understand, though we remain, of course, reasonable men."

Melissa merely smiled. "As I said, enjoy your weekend."

Then she was gone. I heard the murmurs at the front door as I continued waiting in the living room, a bark of laughter--Johnny's--followed by the sound of the door clicking shut and footsteps returning down the hallway.

Time to face the music, though I still had some ideas of my own. When Mark came back, he strode right up to me, but I didn't give him a chance to speak. Instead, with a swiftness and style I had no idea I even possessed, I fell to my knees, had his zipper down and his cock in my mouth before he could even
think
of the words: you'd better take what's coming and like it, Liam.

He groaned and clutched at me as I sucked him to hardness, but I didn't hear any objections, and he didn't push me away, so I kept on going.

"Liam?" he said after a few moments of thrusting and sucking.

I didn't know if the command for silence still applied and assumed discretion was still the better part of valor. In any case, with a mouthful of cock, saying anything sensible would have been impossible. Not that it mattered, as Mark continued to talk as he worked my throat.

"Liam."

Thrust.

"Just..."

Suck.

"because you..."

Lick.

"give a bloody good..."

Another thrust.

"blowjob..."

Suck and lick. God, I was good.

"it doesn't mean to say..."

Thrust, and...

"Arrgghhh, yes!"

Salt, warmth and his glorious man-taste on my tongue and down my throat, oh yes.

Mark stepped back, cock dripping where I hadn't been able to swallow everything. He rocked a little, eyes bright and forehead beaded with sweat, before gathering himself and leaning forward to where I continued to kneel at his feet.

He coughed.

"It doesn't mean to say you're in
any
way off the hook, my friend."

Ah.
That's what made him a successful gangster and me an art-gallery attendant. As Johnny's steadying hand came to rest on my shoulder, I prepared myself for a night--I hoped--to remember.

* * * *

I should have known the Delaneys would never let me down. Upstairs, Mark led the way to his bedroom, and Johnny and I scampered along behind, as was becoming usual. Once inside, Mark switched on the light and then pressed a button on the wall I hadn't noticed before.

Before I could blink, I heard a low grinding sound and the ceiling above the bed shifted. Subtle lines appeared and a large section began to lower itself toward the floor, leaving a gap above where mysterious glimmers and shadows moved.

Speechless, I stared as the contraption dropped over the bed and slotted itself into place. Iron bars formed into a cage, which to me looked strong enough to contain the most hardened criminal the Delaneys might come across. Either that or there'd been some
very
serious sex play going on in their past, which the rumor mill hadn't yet picked up on. I honestly wasn't sure which was more worrisome.

"You see," Mark's voice whispered in my ear, making me shiver, "this is what happens when people we know keep things from us about themselves. Important things..."

"What?" I said, unable to help myself. "You lock them up until they see the error of their ways? Or do you...do you..."

I wasn't sure I could bring myself to complete the sentence echoing in my head, but Johnny was ahead of me.

"My brother always did have a taste for the dramatic," he said, "but no, he's never used this for getting rid of anyone permanently."

"Or making them do something they wouldn't like? Something sexual?" someone said in a high-pitched voice. God help us, I think it was me.

Johnny raised his eyebrows, but it was Mark who answered.

"Ah, but Liam," he said with a low growl, "we only do
that
with you, and even then only if we know you're going to end up liking it."

"Yes, sir, of course, sir."

"No," he went on, as if he were talking only to himself. "I use my cage as a means of persuasion, that's all. But perhaps it's due for another kind of purpose altogether. After all, now we have you in our home, Liam, why go outside for entertainment?"

Why indeed?

"Because it's time," Mark said, "for something a little bit different. A punishment you'll not forget in a hurry. Take off your clothes. Slowly."

A quick glance at Johnny and then my gaze snapped back to Mark. Funny how I needed to know Johnny was there, but it was Mark whose commands it felt so natural to follow.

I took off my shirt first and let it fall to the floor. Before turning my attention to my socks, I brushed my fingers over my nipple and gave it a quick tweak, causing Johnny to gasp and Mark to give a low growl. Always good to know I had their attention. Apart from this, the brothers kept their silence as I continued to get naked.

When I was finished, I gave Mark a slight smile. "What would you like to do to me, sir?"

He was on me before I could even draw breath, pushing me back against the cold metal bars of that cage and trapping me there with his body. I couldn't help myself. I knew this was supposed to be punishment for daring to keep something from them, but I pushed back against him and opened my lips for a kiss.

It didn't come.

"Oh no, Liam," Mark whispered. "There's a while to go before we get
there.
"

I held his gaze. "Of course, sir. But there's no reason we can't enjoy the journey, is there?"

Then I leant forward while he still held me against the bars and kissed him. Good and thoroughly, and because I was the soul of justice and decency I reached out and grabbed Johnny at the same time so I could draw him into the embrace as well. The warmth of the twins' bodies against mine, contrasting with the icy chill of the cage on my back catapulted my cock into the nearest it came to overdrive without exploding. Hell, if I'd known I had this kind of reaction to a disparity in temperature I would have installed a Swedish bath in my flat years ago. My
old
flat.

Right now, however, my attention was elsewhere. Mark's tongue was busy marking his territory down my throat, while Johnny's fingers were treating my cock to a more than thorough inspection.

While Mark focused on my neck, I took the opportunity to stretch my arms upward and grasp at the bars behind me. At the same time, I thrust my cock into Johnny's grip, relying on the fact Mark hadn't asked me to be still.

"Whatever you do, don't let him come," Mark ordered. "I've got other things in mind."

At this, Johnny nodded, but didn't make any noticeable changes to his own plans, so I realized it was up to me to keep the kettle off the boil. The next second my mind was taken off my more than simmering libido as Mark stepped back, pulled my fingers from the bars, swung me round and pressed me up against the cage again. Luckily, my cock managed to find a gap without being pushed against an inch of cold steel. Which might or might not have been a good thing.

"That's better," Mark whispered in my ear, as Johnny adjusted his position, reached down and took hold of my balls. "I want to see your arse because it has a very important lesson to learn. And it's going to learn it now."

"Wait," Johnny interrupted. "Shouldn't you let Liam know what you're going to do? You're not the only one who's been reading up on this."