“Never,” he murmured. “I’m going to mark you too, Simon, shoot my scent all over you, both of us claiming you as our own. Do you want that?”


“Oh, God,” Simon moaned, dropping his head to Blair’s shoulder. For a moment he thought that Jim had chosen that moment to enter the bigger man, but a glance over Simon’s shoulder showed that Jim was still patiently preparing him.


“I want that,” Simon whispered against Blair’s shoulder, as if it was a secret too precious to trust to aerial sound waves. “I want that very, very much.”


“Then you got it,” Jim growled huskily, moving into place between Simon’s legs, and Blair felt a strange flash of pride. When Jim went primal with him, he rarely had the wherewithal for speech.


Blair couldn’t see Jim slowly, carefully easing into Simon, but Simon groaned richly with pleasure and his cock throbbed impossibly bigger and harder against Blair’s own aching erection. Simon braced himself on his elbows so that Blair didn’t have to bear his and Jim’s combined weight, and Blair squirmed against him in response, aligning their erections and sliding them together.


Apparently Jim had reached the limits of his gentleness, because he pushed forward suddenly, and several other things happened – Simon, crying out with pleasure, was jarred forward, causing his erection to thrust forward over Blair’s; Blair cried out too, hooking his heels over Simon’s wide-spread thighs and arching up against the delightful friction; and the bed rocked, shaking the fake vines and leaves above them.


After a couple of hours of extended foreplay, none of them had much restraint left. Jim growled, thrusting into Simon hard and rhythmically, his hands locked in an iron grip on Simon’s hips. Simon, not protesting at all at Jim’s vigorous action, rocked against the deep thrusts, simultaneously sliding his erection over Blair’s and between their bellies on a slippery coating of sweat, massage oil and precome. Blair, at the bottom of the pile, simply clung to Simon’s broad shoulders, kissed the older man whenever he could bend his head down far enough, and enjoyed the hell out of the ride. It was rather like a reverse race – whoever reached the finish line first, lost, and Blair, with little to concentrate on besides his own arousal at the incredible experience, not to mention the intoxicating thrust of Simon’s erection against his own, was very much afraid it was going to be him.


And he was right. Jim gave a particularly strong thrust, pushing Simon hard against Blair, and that was it; Blair arched his back, dug his fingers into Simon’s shoulders and howled out his pleasure as he covered Simon’s belly and his own with what felt like gallons of hot come. He slumped panting and tired to the mattress, but he didn’t bask in the afterglow too long; his men were still in the race, and Blair didn’t consider himself confined to the sidelines quite yet.


Risking suffocation, Blair slid lower under Simon’s body, licking and nibbling at the hard buds of Simon’s nipples. Then, even more daring, he moved out from under Simon and stuck just his head under Simon’s hips, and risking a horrible crushing death (not to mention the definite possibility of erotic asphyxiation) did his best to swallow the biggest erection he’d ever seen.


Simon tasted of sweat and massage oil and precome and Blair’s semen, and any hope of a nice controlled gentle blowjob was a lost cause entirely. Jim was fairly slamming into Simon now, and Simon was pretty much as far out of control as Jim – not that Blair could blame him, okay, with a mad Sentinel pumping away at the back and Blair playing vacuum cleaner at the front, but Simon’s growing frenzy and the laws of physics meant that for every deep slam by Jim, a similar amount of force was transmitted to Blair via the giant piston pumping away in his mouth. Blair’s jaws and throat were never going to be the same, and if the whole situation hadn’t been so incredibly hot, he might have retreated. Still, Blair rarely if ever admitted defeat, he’d by now had several months of oral practice with the second biggest cock he’d ever seen, and he was utterly determined to make this experience one Simon would remember for the rest of his life.


“Blair,” Simon choked, his whole body going taut. “Blair, I’m going to – I’m – “


Blair thanked every god and/or goddess he’d ever studied for the warning, which allowed him to gulp in one big gasp of air before Simon proceeded to do his best to drown the younger man. Simon had gone very still, his whole body shaking, and Blair knew what was coming (no pun intended) and could only pray that Simon would finish and he’d have time to get out of the way before –


Then Simon’s cock pumped out the last jet of come, and Blair gave it a little kiss of apology as he rolled out from under the big captain, just in time as Jim threw back his head and roared, nope, folks, no other word to use in this situation, threw himself over Simon’s back and sank his teeth hard into Simon’s shoulder, provoking an answering howl of pain and renewed pleasure.


The tableau held for one incredible moment as Jim shuddered through his orgasm, his whole body clamped around Simon’s. Then Simon’s arms finally gave out and they both collapsed to the bed on the spot where, thankfully, Blair no longer lay, and slowly relaxed, one muscle at a time. Blair crawled over and happily added himself to the sweaty tangle, felt himself drawn in by two sets of strong arms, and for long, panting, way-too-hot moments nobody spoke.


At last amazingly it was Jim who broke the silence.


“Simon?” he wheezed, although Blair couldn’t locate his face under the Simon-pile. “Are you all right?”


“Dead,” Simon croaked hoarsely. “I never believed it was possible, but it’s true. Call the coroner, I’ve been fucked to death. Put it on my tombstone.”


Blair chuckled wearily and pushed himself up on one elbow.


“Roll over a little this way, let me look at your shoulder. How does it feel?”


Simon rolled.


“My what?” he said dazedly.


“Sorry, I forgot I was talking to the brain dead,” Blair grinned. The bite was bleeding just a bit. “Be glad it’s turtleneck sweater season, Simon.”


“Did you bring the first-aid kit?” Jim muttered from somewhere under Simon’s left armpit.


“Of course. Anybody want to move this pile to the tub for a wash?”


Simon groaned again.


“Carry me.”


Blair snorted.


“Dream on.”


“Hey, it’s my fantasy, isn’t it?”


“Remind me to explain to you the difference between fantasy and reality, augmented by a lecture on the law of gravity and how that applies to 6’4 police captains.”


“Simon,” Jim said groggily, “either you get out of this bed and into the tub, or Blair is going to force us to have meaningful conversation.”


“I’m up, I’m up.”


“Not yet, but I’m hoping,” Blair chuckled, helping his weary lovers into the tub. Leaving them to soak briefly, he loaded up a plate with cheese and fruit and brought back cold beers to go with it.


“Psychic. The man is psychic,” Simon said firmly, pressing his beer can to his sweaty forehead.


“Well, actually a sports drink after sex is better for replenishing electrolytes and – “


“Hey, we got in the tub,” Jim protested. “That should earn us at least a half-hour’s idiocy, okay?”


Blair grinned and climbed in the tub.


“You both win the grand prize, which includes – hmmm, let’s say fifteen minutes’ idiocy, all the cold beer you want, and a sensual post-sex bath administered by yours truly. Followed by post-bath first aid for those who need it.”


“Deal,” Simon said, shuddering with delight when Blair scrubbed between his shoulder blades. “Jim, how much you want for this guy? I want him at home the next time I come off a 36-hour shift.”


Jim chuckled.


“Sorry, Simon, we’re a package deal. Buy one, get one free.”


Simon glanced over his shoulder, and the warmth in his eyes reassured Blair that he’d just been joking.


“That sounds even better,” he said softly.


“But it could still cost you something,” Blair said, meeting Simon’s gaze. “That is, if you like the idea.”


Simon’s brows drew down.




Blair glanced at Jim. Jim nodded, ever so slightly.


“Karen Merrick in 316’s transferring to Vancouver in a few months,” he said softly. “I have it on good authority that her loft, which is just across the landing from ours, will go up for sale in about a month. You said you were looking for something smaller than your house.”


Simon went very still under Blair’s hands. He turned around, gazing at Jim and Blair in astonishment.


“You’re saying you want me to move into your building?” he said, very softly.


“No, we’re saying we want you to move into our lives,” Blair said, meeting Simon’s eyes. “Spend as much or as little time at your own place as you want. You’ve got a cell phone, get call forwarding.”


Simon swallowed heavily, saying nothing.


“Simon, we’re not trying to push for more than you want to give,” Jim said quietly. “Believe me, I understand the need for personal space and time to think things through. But Blair’s right, we want you as part of our lives. Not just in bed, but at breakfast, and watching ball games, and reading on the other side of the room, and lounging around when you’re just too wiped to do anything else.”


Simon took a deep breath.


“I want that too,” he said slowly. “But, Jim, Blair, I’ve got to ask this. Can we handle this at the office? Can you handle it if I give you orders as your captain that you don’t particularly care for coming from your lover?”


Jim snorted.


“Simon, you give me orders I don’t particularly care for all the time,” he said. “And I know that’s even more true for Sandburg than me. That’s not the problem and you know it. What you’re afraid of is, can you handle giving the orders that send us into dangerous situations?”


“We can handle it,” Blair said gently. “All three of us can handle it. Simon, we’ve always been closer than co-workers. We’ve been friends. We’ve shared secrets. We trust each other. We’ve gone way, way above and beyond to help each other out. It hasn’t hurt our relationship at work; it’s only made us work that much better together. Your knowledge of Jim’s Sentinel abilities has helped make him a more effective cop, even though his senses are sometimes a problem and you have to cover up for him, too. Your understanding of my and Jim’s relationship, not just as lovers, but as Sentinel and Guide, has let us work more effectively. You’re bending the rules for us, but we’ve still got the best arrest record going. We’ve always been outside the lines, Simon. We can handle it, all of us.”


Simon nodded slowly.


“You’re pretty damned good with words,” he said. “But... I think you’re right.”


“So you’ll look at the loft?” Jim coaxed.


“I’ll look at the loft. And think about it.”


“That’s all we ask,” Jim said, popping a grape into Simon’s mouth. “Although this might be a good time to mention what fantastic buckwheat pancakes Blair makes. And then there’s this incredible chicken posole.”


“Foot massages after a long day’s work,” Blair added helpfully. He slid into Simon’s lap, reaching down soapy fingers to explore and caress. “Not to mention bathing services.”


Simon groaned.


“Blair, I hate to tell you this, but I’m dead here, remember?”


“Strange that you should mention that,” Jim said, moving in to join the attack. “Because if you’ll remember Blair’s dip in the fountain – “


“Don’t even remind me,” Simon shuddered.


Jim kissed Simon reassuringly.


“ – then you of all people should know that one of the abilities of a fully-functional Sentinel and Guide,” he said, licking Simon’s ear, “is the ability to raise the dead.”


Simon whimpered pitifully, and any protest he might have voiced quickly dissolved into contented sighs and wet kissing sounds.


Some time later, when all the candles had guttered away to waxy puddles:


“Buckwheat pancakes with blueberry syrup?”


“Oh, absolutely. And just wait till we tell you the best way to eat them, although Jim always makes me put a towel down first…“


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