Episode 3 #3
Mr. Moreau nodded. He moved his glass from the side table to a coaster on the coffee table in front of the nearest couch and set a second coaster out for Collin.
Then he sat on the couch, one leg stretched along the length of the back and one leg bent with his food on the ground.
He patted the cushion between his thighs. “Here.”
Collin crawled up the couch and lay down against Mr. Moreau’s leg, head on the man’s thigh.
Mr. Moreau’s hand came down and went into Collin’s hair. “You really are a kitten, aren’t you?”
Collin made a sound in the back of his throat and curled even deeper into the couch.
He didn’t realize he’d drifted off or that Mr. Moreau had covered him with a blanket until he heard voices. He stirred to find Mr. Reevesworth sitting on the coffee table. “Thank you for taking care of the kitten, émeric.”
“The pleasure was mine, darling. Are you hungry?”
“I shouldn’t be after that dinner, but yes. Damian’s in the shower, and then he’ll be out as well. What did you make?”
“We made”—Mr. Moreau let Collin sit up, and collected the blanket, returning it to the back of the couch—“profiteroles with frozen custard, ice cream, and whipped cream fillings. But we need to fill them still. Go shower.”
Collin rubbed his eyes and fluttered his eyelids to get the sleep out of his lashes.
Mr. Reevesworth reached out and pushed a little hair from his face. “And how are you, Collin?”
“Baking helped.”
Mr. Reevesworth looked serious for a moment and then nodded once. “I’m going to shower. You can come be with me in the bathroom, or you can help émeric finish up in the kitchen.”
“If it’s all the same, sir, I want to see through what we started. I’ve never made pastry before.”
“You have an excellent teacher if you want to learn. I’ll see you soon.” He touched Collin’s hair one more time and then left on long, swiftly moving legs.
“And that is the harbinger of two very hungry men.” Mr. Moreau pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s teach you about the joys of filling things.”
Collin giggled. “I think I prefer being filled.”
Mr. Moreau shook his head. “As one who prefers both, I would never give up either.”
Filling the fresh pastries with various creams was satisfying. Collin lost himself in the work until large arms wrapped around him from behind.
“Is that for me?” An obviously caged cock pressed against Collin’s ass.
“Are you hungry?”
Damian nodded into Collin’s shoulder. “Feed me.”
Collin turned his head. Mr. Reevesworth was leaning in the kitchen doorway, ankles and arms crossed, pants hanging low on his hips. Collin raised an eyebrow. Mr. Reevesworth tipped his head in assent.
“You want whipped cream, ice cream, or custard?” Collin asked.
Damian shivered. “Whipped cream first.”
Collin reached for one and held it just out of Damian’s reach. Damian’s grip around his waist tightened, and he went up on his tiptoes, pushing Collin into the counter and grabbing the sweet treat between his teeth.
Collin giggled. He opened his hand, catching the unbitten half of the profiterole in his hand and holding it up for Damian to eat the rest from his palm.
Damian dropped his head to Collin’s shoulder. “So good. More, please.”
Collin shook his head and picked up one of the frozen custards. “Open wide.”
Damian obediently opened his mouth, waiting to be fed.
Collin dropped the entire puff in his mouth. “If you want more, sit. I have to wash my hands. You made a mess, and the rest need to be finished.”
Damian made a sound of complaint, but he let go as Collin moved to the sink to wash his hand.
“Richard, your tea is ready.” Mr. Moreau laid a tray on the table. “Collin, do you want help?”
“Three more minutes. I have it.” Collin dried his hands and moved back to the profiteroles.
They ate together at the table. Damian had both hands around a cup of decaf coffee.
He refused to feed himself, instead making puppy eyes at Collin to hand-feed him.
Perhaps he was still in subspace, but he wasn’t calm and obedient like Collin had felt the night before.
Instead, he was goofy and affectionate, even grabbing Mr. Reevesworth’s finger once when he accidentally brushed it against a pile of whipped cream.
He licked the entire digit clean before releasing it.
All Mr. Reevesworth said was “Thank you, Damian. It’s much cleaner now. ”
Ten minutes later, Damian was face down on the table, barely awake.
Mr. Moreau observed him fondly. “I still do not understand why sugar and coffee can put that man to sleep in the small hours of the morning.”
Mr. Reevesworth stood, flexing his shoulders. “Damian is built from contradictions.” He pried Damian from the table and got an arm under his shoulder. “Collin, I’ll see you in my room when you’re finished.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Moreau made no motion to move but was calmly enjoying a small tumbler of brandy with his pastry.
Collin drank his own tea and savored the flavor of the barely sweet custard with the lightness of the puff.
He cleaned up around Mr. Moreau who seemed lost in his own thoughts and then found his way down the hallway to the bedroom.
Mr. Reevesworth was not yet there. Collin dropped down on the small bed, limbs heavy. He needed the toilet before sleeping, but neither Mr. Reevesworth or Mr. Moreau were there. He could wait a while. He closed his eyes for a moment.
Footsteps on carpet made him stir. He rolled over and looked up.
Mr. Reevesworth and Mr. Moreau were entering together, kissing.
Collin smiled, his knees drawing up to his chest. Mr. Reevesworth pushed Mr. Moreau up against the wall, knee between the other man’s thighs.
A thrill ran through Collin’s stomach. Both men were obviously aroused.
Mr. Moreau’s hands pushed Mr. Reevesworth’s pants down his buttocks.
Mr. Reevesworth stepped back only far enough to step out of the pants as they fell down his legs.
“You know you’ll pay for that, émeric?”
“So certain. Didn’t your puppy wear you out?”
Mr. Reevesworth growled. He bent his knees and wrapped one arm beneath Mr. Moreau’s rear, lifting the man from the floor. He turned and threw his husband on the bed. “I’ll have you know, émeric, no puppy has found my limit. Only you. And I haven’t had you tonight.”
Mr. Moreau bounced on the bed, eyes fixed on his husband’s face. He seemed unable to move, but his eyes were bright and wide, like his smile.
Mr. Reevesworth grabbed Mr. Moreau’s ankle and dragged the silk off his husband’s leg. The darker man wore nothing beneath the flimsy layer. Collin pressed his hand against his own groin. Mr. Moreau was as smooth as he was with a Prince Albert ring shining at the end of his dick.
Mr. Reevesworth slunk up the bed, caging Mr. Moreau beneath him. “Collin.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Stay where you are, unless you need to leave.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Moreau laughed. “You know I won’t go easy on you, Richard, just because the kitten is here.”
Mr. Reevesworth leaned down, catching his husband in a violent kiss.
Mr. Moreau reached up, grasping him around the neck and shoulder with both arms. They rolled on the bed, long legs tangled together.
Pillows flew from the mattress. Mr. Reevesworth’s hands gripped his husband’s ass in a two-handed grip.
Mr. Moreau held him fast, an elbow locked behind his neck.
Collin shivered. He gripped a pillow against his chest and curled up around it, unable to tear his eyes away.
Mr. Reevesworth dragged his teeth down Mr. Moreau’s neck. Mr. Moreau’s back arched and he moaned. Mr. Reevesworth’s mouth reached the arch of his husband’s shoulder. He mouthed it once, licking sweat from satin skin, and bit.
Mr. Moreau screamed. His thighs bulged as he bucked, trying to throw Mr. Reevesworth off. His hands clawed down Mr. Reevesworth’s back, breaking skin.
“Richard!”
Mr. Reevesworth laughed. He licked at the deep dark mark he had left behind on his husband’s neck. Mr. Moreau shuddered and lay limp on the bed. For half a breath, Collin thought that would be all.
Mr. Moreau’s hand flew off the mattress, catching Mr. Reevesworth by the hair on the back of his head.
Hands and arms traded places, and the two men rolled straight off the bed and onto the floor.
Mr. Moreau landed on top, legs locked around Mr. Reevesworth’s upper thigh and an arm around Mr. Reevesworth’s shoulder.
Mr. Reevesworth lurched from the floor, his husband riding him and losing his grip.
Mr. Reevesworth spun and bent in a horseshoe shape.
He grabbed Mr. Moreau’s knee from between his own legs, and dragged the other man under him.
Mr. Moreau twisted, punching Mr. Reevesworth in the hip with an elbow and finding his feet.
Mr. Reevesworth grabbed him around the lower legs.
Somehow, they had left the space of the larger bed entirely and were up against the smaller bed.
Collin rolled to the very end of his mattress as Mr. Moreau fell onto it.
“Collin, move.”
Moving. Yep. Moving right now. Collin scrambled over the end of the bed frame and beat a hasty retreat across the room to the couch.
He dropped down into the cushions and pulled his legs up to his chest. Mr. Moreau and Mr. Reevesworth were demolishing the smaller bed, Mr. Reevesworth now beneath Mr. Moreau, the Frenchman’s hand full of his husband’s hard dick.
They were still kissing even as Mr. Reevesworth twisted and fought to gain the upper hand once again.
He managed to sit up against the wall. Mr. Moreau followed him. The force of their straining bodies slid the bed away from the wall. Mr. Moreau put a foot down between the sliding bed and the wall.
They’re going to destroy the room.
Collin ran his eye over the room. Was there anything breakable? Should I move anything?