Chapter Twenty-Five
Tyson
My cock perked up at Donovan’s words.
I thrust the thought we were trespassing out of my mind.
Well, mostly.
Donovan and Cole were so tight that my man would never jeopardize that—no matter how badly he wanted to do this…BDSM…thing with us.
“What exactly are you thinking of doing to poor Hamish?”
Hamish glared.
As usual, it had little effect on me. I knew him. This was all for show.
“With Hamish’s permission”—Donovan gave him a meaningful look—“I want to do a scene.”
Hamish swallowed. Hard. “Uh, yeah, okay.”
“But I need to know what you think you can take. What you think you might like.”
“That hardly seems fair.” I gazed at Hamish. “It’s not like he has experience…” I trailed off as my partner pinkened further. Oh, this is interesting.
“I’ve, uh, watched some videos.”
Donovan chuckled. “All on your own?”
Hamish sat a little straighter, took a sip of tea, then looked back and forth between the two of us. “Well, you guys work a lot. And I often work from home and…”
A lot of sentences trailing off tonight.
“And what precisely did you watch?” Might as well lay things on the table.
“Porn.” He might’ve squeaked that.
Donovan laughed. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun. But what, precisely, beyond vanilla porn?”
Hamish scrunched his nose. “And some kinky stuff. Okay, like some things I didn’t like. I’m not sure I’m up for that level of pain.”
“Ah.” Donovan took Hamish’s mug and, with his own, put them on the coffee table.
I repeated the action with my own.
“There’s hardcore BDSM just like there’s hardcore porn.” He grasped Hamish’s hand. “You understand that, right?”
Hamish rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know there’s a difference.”
“And that consent is critical?”
“Donovan.” No missing the warning tone in Hamish’s voice. He was the oldest, but sometimes we treated him like a na?ve kid.
Because sometimes he was that sheltered young man. He’d seen the tougher side of life but had never lived it.
“I want to try…stuff. I just don’t know what I’d like or not.” Another one of those blushes. “What we get up to in bed is awesome.”
“But you want to explore more.” Donovan. Prompting.
Hamish nodded vigorously. “Yes.”
I raised my hand. “And where do I fit into this scenario?”
Donovan angled himself so he could meet my gaze. “Oh, I’m pretty sure you’re going to wind up being a switch. But you never know. You might like being a bottom.”
The guffaw escaped unheeded. “You know I like getting nailed. But being whipped is a whole other thing.” But I didn’t have experience wielding one either, so this might get very interesting.
I must be nuts.
I had that thought as I found myself, twenty minutes later, standing naked in the dungeon.
We’d ended our negotiations, cleaned up the coffee and tea remnants, put the dried mugs away, and headed downstairs.
I’d thought I was prepared for this moment but found myself at a loss for words.
The room was enormous. Must run almost the length of the house.
But longer and narrower as it shared the basement with a substantial party room.
Only someone who was paying attention to dimensions would notice it.
Or the discreet door tucked in behind the stairs.
“Was this room a dungeon when Cole bought the place?”
Donovan shook his head. He pointed to the far wall. “Gaming room. The owner used to sit down here and play games for hours at a time. He referred to the room as his dungeon, but he meant it in the D&D way.”
“Ah. What happened to him?”
“His parents, who’d bought him the house, discovered he wasn’t working at the job they’d set him up at.
They withdrew their financial support.” Donovan snickered.
“He didn’t have any income, so he couldn’t afford to keep this place.
However, they hadn’t placed any stipulations on the gift.
So he took the substantial profits from the sale of the house, bought a studio apartment, and continued to, uh, play games all day. ”
I was curious how Donovan knew so much, but most of me didn’t give a shit.
I felt slightly more comfortable knowing the room was Cole and Donovan’s creation.
Somehow, that made the room marginally less intimidating.
Because as much as I didn’t want to think about all the things the men had done in here, part of me was intensely curious.
Hamish stood in the middle of the room. “St. Andrew’s Cross, rack, bed…” He trailed off. “That just looks like a chair.” He glanced at Donovan.
“Take a closer look.”
Following Donovan’s instruction, he headed over. And frowned. “Okay, do I want to know?”
“Not today,” Donovan offered smoothly. He indicated the wall of implements.
Hamish stepped over. “Whips, chains, floggers, handcuffs, riding crops, paddles, cuffs, and, uh…” He snagged a long rectangular box off the wall and opened it. “Oh, dear.” He slammed it shut.
Donovan laughed. “Not in the mood to be sounded?”
Sounded? Oh shit. Urethral sounding. Sticking a thin glass tube up a guy’s dick. My hand cupped my cock protectively.
Hamish put the box back on the shelf. “Dildos, butt plugs, and…” He snagged a metal contraption with two pieces strung together with a chain. “Nipple clamps?”
“Yep.”
I didn’t bring my hands to protect my nipples. But I might’ve come damn close. Those things looked vicious.
“Cock ring?” Hamish held up another contraption. “Cock cage?”
Oh fuck no.
Donovan caught my gaze, winked, then turned back to our third. “Yes.”
“And this stuff is all Cole’s?”
He shook his head. “No, a few are my things. I’ve got a bag in the car that we can grab later. Might as well take my toys.”
“You don’t see the three of us playing with the three of them?” No point trying to hide my sarcasm.
Donovan arched an eyebrow. “Not that it’s any of my business or yours, but both Michael and Caressa expressed an interest in exploring all the wonders this room has to offer.”
I cocked my head. “And have they?”
He shrugged. “There was a time when Cole told me virtually everything. Certainly everything that happened in this room.” He swept his hands wide, then brought them to his chest. “But times have changed.”
Hamish stepped over and grasped his upper arm. “He has them—and you have us.”
“Yeah.”
I eyed Donovan. “And if Cole asks about what we got up to here?” With Donovan’s coloring, discerning blushes could be a challenge. Still, I knew him well enough. “Goddamn it, man.”
He held up his hands. “I’m kidding.”
Hamish giggled. “Mostly.”
Donovan shot him a look.
I slashed my hand through the air. “Fine, tell them whatever you want.” Was that the right thing to say?
I just didn’t know. This was so far beyond me.
I’d always lived a very compartmentalized life.
Work—one silo. Wife—second silo. And… Yeah.
Nothing. Which meant it’d been all about the job for a very long time.
Until these two.
Donovan pressed a kiss to Hamish’s lips. “How about you stand against the St. Andrew’s Cross? Facing toward the wall.” He caught my gaze. “And will you stand on the other side so you can gauge his reactions for me?”
“Sure.”
With more bravery than I’d ever have, Hamish made his way over to the cross. He grasped the bars and leaned forward, placing his weight on the apparatus.
I moved around so I faced him, and if I refocused, I could meet Donovan’s gaze.
Hamish stared at me. “Am I insane?” Whispered furtively.
“Maybe? But if you are, I’m there with you, because I’m not stopping this.” I held his gaze. “You want it to stop, you say so, okay?”
“Yeah, Donovan made that pretty clear.”
Our third had, but I felt the need to reinforce the idea now we found ourselves actually in the dungeon.
“I’m okay, Tyson.”
In his eyes I saw only clear lucidity.
Then the sound of flesh hitting flesh resounded around the room.
Hamish jolted, his eyes going wide. “What the—”
Another smack.
I looked past him to find a grinning Donovan.
Hamish started to turn.
“Eyes forward.” Donvan snapped the command.
He desisted.
Donovan met my gaze, and I read his command to me as well. If I felt Hamish wasn’t in a good place, I was to say something.
I nodded, fascinated by this weird dynamic. I didn’t tend to fight Donovan for dominance. He fell into the role naturally, and much of the time I was too tired, or too happy, to argue. Here, though? He was bestowing a tremendous responsibility on me. Am I up for this?
Another slap. Well, more like an open-handed spank.
Hamish giggled.
I arched an eyebrow.
Donovan smacked his ass yet again. Open palm.
Hamish yelped. Then giggled again. “Is this supposed to be fun?”
“It can be whatever you want.” Donovan hit him again, this time jolting Hamish against the cross, which, to my relief, held.
“I choose this.” Hamish blinked. “All of this.”
Donovan strode to the wall and returned a moment later with a flogger. “Just a light touch, okay? I want this to be pleasurable. Tell me if it’s not.”
The question was clear in Hamish’s gaze until the first strike landed. Well, not even a strike. More like a caress.
As Donovan established a gentle but persistent rhythm, Hamish closed his eyes and sighed.
Yeah, he’s enjoying this. Would I?
I suspected so. Not just for the clearly sensual experience, but also because I’d know Donovan was choosing me.
Choosing us.
Donovan stopped. He moved to the wall and replaced the flogger. Then he snagged the bottle of lube I’d missed. “I’m going to fuck him, and you’re going to blow him.”
Hamish’s eyes fluttered open. “Oh yes, please.”
I glanced down to find a padded strip of wood at my feet. Ah. Clever. After I knelt, I licked a bead of precum off Hamish’s tip.
He thrust his hips forward. Then he grunted as Donovan slid into him.
The rest was just us doing what we did best—all giving and taking in equal measures and somehow coming out with three orgasms, one on top of the next.
Absolute fucking bliss.