Ordinarily, I'm not the type to seek attention - not deliberately, at any rate. But as the three of us lay together on the bed in Ray's apartment, I felt that under the circumstances my Rays ought to have been paying more attention to what I was doing to them, rather than to each other's genital endowments. After all, that was my mouth and my hands, tasting and touching as I lay between them, licking at the lovely purpled head of one cock and then caressing the shaft of the other, giving pleasure to them both, even as I reveled in their distinct tastes and textures.
But then Ray Kowalski gave a satisfied little hmph noise that had nothing at all to do with what I was doing to him, and said, "See, I told you I was bigger."
"Fuck you, Kowalski," said Ray Vecchio. "You like it well enough when it's up your ass."
"Yeah, but I'm bigger." He sounded absurdly smug. "Right, Fraser?"
"Hardly a significant difference," I said, giving each of the objects of contention another stroke in an attempt at diversion.
"No way. More than seven millimeters, I bet. I've got more of a dick than he's got of a nose."
"You're more of a dick, you got that right."
"Fuck you, Vecchio," he said cheerfully. "Except you don't do that, do you. Scared of my big dick."
"Oh, yeah, you're such a big guy," Ray said, rolling his eyes. "I don't see Benny having a problem with it," he added, and they both looked at me, and my heart sank. Because this was something we did not talk about; this was something we stepped around cautiously, because I knew that no matter how much I reassured them, they would not believe that I loved them both, that I loved them equally, that I cherished the way one held me close and moved gently inside me as much as I relished the way the other gripped my hips tightly enough to bruise and slid home with abandon.
"That's because bigger is better. Admit it, Fraser, you like it better when I fuck you."
"Bigger is different, Ray," I said firmly. "I like it when either of you fucks me. And perhaps we could move on to that stage of the program?" I rolled to face him, moving forward so that our cocks slid together for one teasing instant, then arched backward so as not to leave out my other Ray, turning my head to lick the sensitive spot on his collarbone.
"You're bigger than Vecchio, bigger than me, even, and I like it better when you fuck me."
Ray's vocal cords vibrated under my tongue as I licked up his neck. "This is the first I've heard any complaints from you. You don't want me to fuck you, I won't. I'll leave your precious ass for Benny, okay, and I'll take his," he said, reaching down to grab hold of the territory he had claimed. But I could feel the tension in his body, the irritation rising, the banked anger that always simmered beneath the surface when the two of them were in the same room. The perfect duets had merged into an uneasy trio months ago, but it was not an equilateral triangle that we formed. They loved me; they lusted for each other, and resented each other, and I believe they respected each other, but every time I thought that their tentative steps were about to bring them to true understanding, it seemed one or the other would say or do something deliberately provocative, and the whole precarious structure would come close to crashing down.
I reached out in both directions, trying to soothe them both simultaneously. "There are far more interesting differences between you than the relative sizes of your penises -"
"Yeah, but mine's bigger." He poked it in my direction, as though to underline his point. He did have a lovely cock, I had to admit, and yes, it was long and thick, bold in its proportions. I had long since ceased thinking of circumcised penises as odd-looking; Ray's simply looked proud in its nakedness, as though it scorned to be hidden away.
I let it surge into my hand, squeezed, stroked. "There are situations in which size is a disadvantage, Ray."
"Not dick size, there isn't. Bigger's better, end of story."
"Yeah, you only think that because you're such a big asshole. Put something really big up there, you'll be wishing for my tiny dick."
"You got something really big you want to stick in me?"
"Ray -"
"Quiet, Fraser. Vecchio, I'm asking you something," said Ray, and I looked up, startled both by the interruption and the intensity of his voice. Against my palm a smear of wetness added to the evidence; he was fiercely aroused, not just by what I was doing to his body, but by the prospect of Ray doing…doing what?
"You couldn't handle it." I heard the same intensity in Ray Vecchio's voice, felt him move a little against my back. Smelled the rising heat from both of them.
"Try me." He slid away from me a little and lay splayed out on the bed, head propped on the pillows, his pose an invitation.
Behind me I heard an indrawn breath. I couldn't blame him; Ray looked as sweet as sin, and I couldn't resist, either. I moved forward, straddled him, kissed his mouth. Underneath me he shifted and moaned, his mouth opening under mine, his tongue darting up as I tasted him. His sweet mouth, his stubble, his neck that arched under my lips as I sucked at his skin.
"My turn, Benny," said Ray behind me, his voice husky with wanting, and I reluctantly moved aside to give him access. "You sure you want to do this?"
"We've been talking about it for weeks. I'm sick of talking," my other Ray replied, and that startled me, because what had they been talking about? And when? I couldn't remember a single conversation between the two of them that hadn't been snide one-upmanship, that hadn't been parry and thrust, point and counterpoint. And yet…they had been talking in code, just now, a code I was not privy to and did not understand; what if all the discussion I'd overheard had been in the same code?
The thought bothered me a little, but I attempted to put it out of my mind. After all, I had spent the past several months attempting to coax them into extending their individual relationships with me into a closer relationship with each other. Now that I was faced with evidence that they had, I told myself it would be selfish of me to complain.
Besides, any complaint I might make was cut off by the sight of them. The sight of one Ray slicking his fingers with lubricant and sliding them into the other, of one Ray letting his knees fall apart and the other leaning forward to curve his hand around his cock. The sounds of moans from both throats, one tipped back and one bent forward. From three throats, I should say, because I could not help myself from making an incoherent groan as I watched.
Ray moved his hand slowly, rhythmically. I saw another finger disappear. "Oh, Christ, oh fuck," whispered Ray, his eyes fluttering closed. The ecstasy on his face surprised me; it wasn't as though they hadn't done this before. Although before, I had always been right there, part of the…well, part of the action, as it were. Perhaps I would have been by their sides, touching them, kissing one or the other. Or perhaps one Ray would be penetrating me as the other Ray penetrated him.
And ordinarily, I would have moved forward, would have taken my place with them, but something in the charged atmosphere kept me from doing so. Instead I simply stared, my eyes greedily drinking in the sight, my own cock swelling. But I didn't move to touch either of them until Ray spoke.
"How about some help here, Benny? Would you mind getting the lube?"
A feeling of warmth crept through me at being invited to join in, even if only in this way. Besides, he didn't really need my help, as the tube of lubricant was right there next to him. Then again, his hands were busy, one moving on Ray's body, one moving into Ray's body; I supposed he didn't want any distraction from his task, so I slid closer and grasped the lubricant, squirting some on my fingers.
"With pleasure," I said. Ray Vecchio's penis was every bit as beautiful to me as Ray Kowalski's; true, it was neither as long or as thick, but I thought that perhaps it was more graceful, with its gentle curve and deep-flushed color. I reached to grasp the erection that rose so temptingly before me. But Ray shook his head.
"Not there." He pointed with his chin to where three of his fingers were moving gently, flesh disappearing into flesh.
The slicker, the better; this I knew from experience, so I slid my fingers against his, adding to the slipperiness. "Christ, that's - oh, yeah, fuck," said Ray. I looked up to see his eyes wide as he stared at the two of us, our hands moving together at his most intimate places. "Fraser, please. You, too."
"I don't think that's -"
"Ben, please," he said, and I was undone. He so rarely called me by anything other than my surname that it always seemed shockingly intimate when he did so.
"It's all right," murmured Ray in my ear. "It'll make it easier."
And I couldn't resist, seeing our fingers moving together, seeing Ray's body open for us, so I allowed one of my fingers to slip in.
"God, yes, that's it, slow, yeah, like that."
"Does it feel good?"
"Yeah, yeah, stupid question," he said breathlessly. I looked at Ray, beside me, and he nodded, so I drizzled more lube on our hands with my free hand and pushed a second finger in, earning another heartfelt moan. Three of his fingers and two of mine; together they made up at least the circumference of my cock, maybe more. I suppose to Ray it must have felt about the same. And yet it seemed somehow more intimate to be fucking him like this, with my fingers and Ray's fingers nearly clasped together, our palms touching, slippery with lube.
Of course it was not the first time my fingers had been inside Ray. But this time I was more aware than ever of the contours of his body, perhaps because the contrasts were so strong; the push of the exterior muscle, the soft give farther inside, and all the time the hard presence of other fingers next to mine. I slid my fingertips up toward his prostate and was rewarded with a shudder and a moan, incoherent words spilling from Ray's mouth that may have been my name, or Ray Vecchio's name, or invocations to a deity.
We moved together for long minutes. I felt Ray's body pulsing, stretching; I could hear his breathing, at first harsh and fast, then slower and more even as he relaxed into our attentions. When I finally looked away from the magnetic sight of our intertwined fingers disappearing and reappearing, up toward his face, he was as rapt by what we were doing as I was.
"Okay, yeah," he groaned. "I'm ready, Vecchio, do it, do it now."
"Okay," said Ray softly. "Benny, I want you to kiss him. Kiss him good."
Reluctantly I withdrew my fingers. "All right." I moved up the bed and levered myself above Ray's chest. My own neglected erection rubbed against his hip, and I couldn't keep myself from pushing against his skin; he smiled a little, shifting his arm so that he could press his hand against me, holding me there.
His tongue crept out, licked the corner of his lip. "Come here."
I bent obediently to his mouth, which opened for me, delicious and sweet. I licked at his tongue, at his teeth; I nipped at his lower lip, swirled my tongue across it to soothe where I had bitten, then slid it into his mouth once more.
Then he moaned and convulsed under me, his hips rolling and shifting, his hand tightening on my cock. "Easy, easy," I heard Ray say; I lifted my head, turned to see what he was doing - and my eyes went wide. He was bent over Ray's body, one hand on Ray's hip, the other…the other…
"Don't move," Ray panted out, "don't - oh, fuck…" He arched his back and I slid away from him, still unable to take my eyes away from the sight of Ray Vecchio's arm - his wrist, dear God, poised unmoving between Ray's legs. His hand had disappeared completely inside Ray's body. I found myself transfixed.
This, I knew, was an act of extreme trust. If you'd asked me the day before, I would have said that neither Ray would have trusted the other with his car, let alone with his body. Their sexual encounters were never just between the two of them; I was always there, the apex of the triangle, what brought them together even as one Ray slid his hands on the other's cock, as one Ray licked at the other's mouth.
And the few times that Ray Kowalski had let his legs fall open for Ray Vecchio, it had always been fast and rough, punctuated by sharp words and arrogance. Their glances had only softened when one would turn his head to kiss me, or when I would stroke down one's back and he would arch into my touch, or when the aftershocks of orgasm would gentle them both, just for a moment.
Yet there they were, looking intently into each other's eyes, breathing slowly to a common rhythm, and I may as well not have been there at all.
Finally Ray swallowed, nodded his head slightly. "I'm good."
"You sure?" And in his voice I heard such care and tenderness as I had never heard him direct at Ray Kowalski before. Or maybe he had, in his own way; maybe I just hadn't been listening. Maybe I had been so absorbed in watching them individually, in watching the way they each related to me, that I had entirely missed seeing their relationship with each other.
After all, one Ray frequently told me I was disgusting, and the other called me a freak - but I knew that each was saying, in his own way, that he cared for me. I would exasperatedly lecture them on courtesy, on cleanliness, on why logic dictated that one should do exactly the opposite of whatever it was they had done, and they would laugh and make jokes, but they knew what I meant to say underneath it all. It was only in the most intimate moments that we dropped all masks and spoke lovingly from the heart. As Ray and Ray were doing now.
Perhaps another man would have been jealous. But I had no desire to be the sole fulcrum of our complex arrangement, the sun around which the planets orbited. I understood that it would take some tipping of the balance before we settled into a stable configuration, the equilateral triangle I yearned for. I was content to watch them together, for the moment.
More than content. They were beautiful, two slender men, one dark and one fair, totally absorbed in each other, and I was absorbed in watching them. One began to move, slowly and with great care, and the other gasped.
"Oh Christ, yeah, that's…yeah…"
"Take it easy, take it easy…God, you should see yourself…"
They never took their eyes off each other, never looked away from the place where they were joined, and I watched as well. Watched as Ray's arm rotated fractionally back and forth, his wrist barely sliding in and out, infinitely slowly, the corded muscles of his forearms flexing and shifting minutely. Imagined what it must feel like, to touch another person so intimately. I wondered whether he'd formed his hand into a fist, or curved it along the interior contours of Ray's body, and how it would feel to have that pulsing heat around my own hand. And I wondered what it would feel like to have that hand inside me, gently twisting and gliding.
"…oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…"
"…you're fine, relax, I've got you…"
Ray shuddered and writhed; Ray held him steady with one hand on a hip, one hand deep, deep inside; Ray moaned and Ray murmured soothingly and Ray gasped and Ray exhaled and I stared and I stared and I stroked myself to the same rhythm, imagining Ray's hand inside me, my hand inside Ray, my hand and his hand and his hand and my body; I stroked myself, I gasped, I exhaled, and I came all over both of them.
"Jesus," breathed Ray; his own hand went to his cock and a second later he was coming too, spurting onto his own chest, onto me, onto Ray.
"Hold him, Benny," said Ray, his voice thick and tinged with deep longing. I scooted forward to cradle Ray's limp body in my arms. "I gotta - my God, you are so hot, both of you, I gotta…" Slowly he pulled out his hand as Ray squirmed against my chest and made small noises of discomfort; as soon as he was free he grabbed at his own erection, groaning and gasping, his dark eyes intent on me and Ray both as his climax overtook him and he collapsed onto us.
We lay in a messy tangle for some minutes, covered in sweat and semen, the only sound our mingled breaths. Finally I slid upright and began to clean us up with towels and tissues. I dearly wanted a shower, but I suspected that both Rays were even more anxious to wash, and the shower in Ray's apartment would not accommodate the three of us at once.
And the thought of the too-small shower brought another thought to my mind, a fantasy I'd quietly nurtured for some time: the thought of the three of us finding a house together, living together. Out of a sense of fairness, I had stopped spending the night at Ray's apartment unless both Rays were there, which meant too many lonely nights at the Consulate. I hadn't dared broach the subject, thinking that it would be rejected out of hand, thinking that their relationship was one of accommodation, not of affection. But as I looked at them - a head pillowed on a chest, a hand lazily stroking a thigh, content smiles on two faces - my heart swelled with love and with hope.
Then Ray lifted his head and grinned at me. "Did you like the show?"
"I think that was obvious, wasn't it?"
"Yeah," he said smugly. He turned to Ray. "I still think you got a small dick."
"You trying to start something with me, Kowalski?" There was no real heat in his voice, and finally I recognized what they were saying to each other, under the banter.
"Hey, I'm just saying, Vecchio. Small dick. But great hands." I love you.
Ray closed his eyes and smiled. "It's nice to be appreciated." I love you, too.
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http://hieroglyfics.net/bigger.htm | written May 2006 by Isis