The Delaneys At Home Page 2

  "Go on then," he said. "You've proved you can do it. So bring yourself off. I want to see you come."

  With a smile, I reached down to obey Mark's command. At first I took it slow, running my fingers up and down my length as my bollocks became ever tighter. I kept my eyes down, fixed on my cock, watching myself as my excitement mounted.

  "Look at us, Liam," Mark demanded, and my eyes snapped up. Still, I couldn't really focus and my gaze shifted from twin to twin, back and forth as if I were at a tennis match. Maybe what they said about eyesight and cock-abuse was right then.

  I kept on pumping myself and then Johnny's hand joined mine, and I gasped. Mark said nothing. He just carried on staring at me, but something in his gaze seemed softer. Then he leaned even closer, and the next thing I knew he was kissing me. Full on. His tongue was so far down my throat that with only a slight adjustment of our position and a hell of a different physiology he could have been wrapping his tongue around my cock instead of my tonsils. Not that I was complaining. Oh, no.

  I whimpered and, at the same time, I was coming, the shock of it making me lurch backward against the headboard. The Delaney twins, trained as they were for combat or the attempted escape of their victims, launched themselves after me. Mark even managed to keep his tongue melded to my mouth, whilst Johnny kept his grip around my streaming cock. It was astonishing what skills a military background had given them. It almost made me want to sign up for the army life on the spot. Almost.

  Johnny and I collapsed on the bed, laughing. Mark finished his kiss and, before I could regret that particular loss, Johnny had pressed his fingers against my lips to allow me to lick my own juice off his skin. I lapped at him, moaning when I saw his eyes darken.

  Mark smiled.

  "Thank you, Liam," he said.

  Right there and then, I would have done anything for them both.

  * * * *

  And so, Day One of living with the two men in my life began with something of a high. However, as I'd suspected, living with a lover--or in my case, two--was going to take a little more than simply sex, spunk and submission, marvelous though all these things were. It was going to take something else entirely.

  Staying power.

  Because at around about midnight, the Delaneys were still going strong, sipping their wine and discussing some aspect of their business I suspected it was best not to hear too much of. I was slumped on the sofa, eyes half-shut and phasing regularly in and out of my surroundings. I had never been one for late nights, not unless sex was involved. And right now it looked like it wasn't. Not that I was complaining, not really anyway. Moving house was said to be one of the top three stressors of all time, and hell, but I needed to sleep. The big question was: where?

  The twins had separate rooms, obviously. So I would either be expected to sleep in a room on my own, which I hadn't been introduced to yet, or with one or the other of the Delaneys, presumably Mark. If this were the case, it left me with a quandary. I didn't want to leave Johnny out. Maybe it was best to sleep by myself, though I didn't much like that idea either. God, why did they never teach you this sort of social etiquette in school? I could have done with some other bugger showing me the way, rather than muddling through on my own. Some hope.

  "Liam."

  I sprang to my feet, rocketing up at the sound of Mark's voice, like a rabbit startled by the farmer's gun. "Yes, sir?"

  Mark stared at me, a frown creasing his beautiful forehead. I wanted nothing more than to smooth it away, preferably with my tongue, but I doubted he'd be up for it right now. Shame.

  "Were you asleep?" he asked.

  I had no idea. Possibly. It was hard to tell. I didn't know what he might have been asking me so best not to wing it and pretend I'd been alert. Best to go with the truth option.

  "I don't know, sir," I said. "I might've been. I was thinking about it, that's for sure. It's late, isn't it? And I didn't know what you both intended to do about bed. I mean for sleeping, not for sex. Where you might want me to be, that is..."

  I trailed off as Mark continued to stare at me. He coughed and licked his lips. The red wine had stained his tongue and, if I'd been even slightly more alert, I'd have bounded across the space between us and tasted for myself, bringing Johnny into the equation, too, if I could manage it. However, the spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak.

  "Late?" Mark repeated. "But it's only just gone midnight."

  As he continued to gaze at me, obviously seeking clarification for my time-keeping idiocy, Johnny laughed.

  "Not everyone keeps our business hours, big brother," he said. "Liam has to go to work in the morning and he's had a heavy day. He's tired."

  Mark sighed and put down his glass. The heavy crystal glinted in the twinkle from the wall light. "Of course. Seeing how we've finished our business, I suppose an early night won't harm us. It'll be a novelty."

  He leapt to his feet and strode toward the door. Johnny shrugged and followed him, with me tagging along behind. Our small entourage swept through the hallway and up the curving staircase, carpeted in a soft pink. Not a color I'd ever associated with the Delaneys, but I was quickly coming to see how dating the pair wasn't the same as living with them.

  At the top of the stairs, the landing divided into two, with one exit to the left and the other to the right. Mark gestured toward the bedroom we'd enjoyed ourselves in earlier.

  "That's my wing," he said, "and the other is Johnny's."

  All very grand, I thought, but it didn't really help with my choice, or how Mark was intending to play it.

  "My bedroom has been well used already tonight," he continued, "so we can sleep in my brother's room. Johnny?"

  The younger twin's smile lightened up his whole face and he gave me a most definite wink. "Thank you, Mark. In that case, come this way."

  From the top of the staircase, I couldn't see either hallway properly as both wings--as Mark called them--were lit only by dimmed lights, but I assumed it would be the same lush richness as I'd experienced earlier.

  How wrong I was. As Johnny led us both down the left-hand corridor, he pressed a switch and the way before us was floodlit like the local stadium on a Saturday night. Instead of the trappings of splendor Mark so obviously delighted in, Johnny's taste was minimalist in the extreme. The carpet was pale cream, and I passed two pictures hung opposite each other that caught my eye.

  "Miro," I said, unable to stop myself. "Fabulous."

  Johnny slowed down for a moment and flashed me a grin. "Yes, I'm very fond of them."

  Next to him, Mark snorted. "I'd be even fonder if we had the originals, but, despite all our efforts, it proved impossible."

  I gulped and couldn't help wondering what kind of effort they'd had to make to try to get hold of a major artistic figure of the twentieth century and whether anyone had been seriously injured in the attempt.

  As if he'd known exactly what I was thinking, Mark made a dismissive gesture. "You civilians. Don't concern yourself. Nobody died while I was looking for a birthday present for Johnny, not initially anyway. Though, of course, I don't like failure."

  "It was a lovely thought," Johnny chipped in. "That's all that matters."

  "So you always say," Mark replied, leaning forward to admire one of the paintings. "And at least the forger won't be making copies for anyone else, so these are certainly unique."

  I blinked, not really wanting to pursue the conversation in the way it seemed to be going, but sparing a thought or two for the unfortunate forger. Luckily, the conversation appeared to be over, and we continued to head toward what must have been Johnny's bedroom.

  He opened the door and the three of us entered, Mark first, of course, then me, with Johnny bringing up the rear. Now there was an idea for when I was more awake. The next moment, all plans were swept entirely out of my head and I spun around on my heels to take in Johnny's surroundings. If anything could be less like Mark, I had yet to find it. Here the décor was pale wood and cotton. A floor buffed to within
an inch of its life led my eye to the almost see-through, long cream curtains drifting a little as the wind took them. On every wall I saw almost equally long plain mirrors and there was barely any furniture. Only a light grey king-size futon took pride of place in the middle of the room.

  Mark laughed.

  "My brother likes to live simply," he said. "In another life, he'd probably be a monk."

  I was no psychiatrist, but somehow I didn't think this was likely. On the other hand, I supposed it depended on what those monks got up to. All the rumors surely couldn't be true, could they?

  No matter. There was no time for theology as, without more ado, Mark gestured at the bed.

  "You two settle yourselves down," he said, "while I go and get ready. Try not to be too long. I hate being kept waiting."

  Then he was gone, and Johnny and I were alone. I smiled at him, feeling suddenly and unexpectedly shy. A ridiculous reaction bearing in mind what the three of us had been getting up to.

  "Come here," Johnny said, holding out his arms, and I didn't need telling again. "This is quite difficult for you, isn't it?"

  Head pressed against the warmth of his shoulder as it was, replying was tricky, but I was always up for a challenge. "Yes, sir. Because this time it's not just sex, is it? Or being in love or any of that kind of stuff. This time it's something else. Which is terrifying, but exciting, too, and I want to work it out with you both, however weird it is or off-the wall."

  At least that's what I was trying to say, but I wasn't sure how much of my impassioned mumble Johnny managed to hear. Not that it really mattered as he kept on hugging me and making comforting noises, and maybe this was all I needed.

  "Okay," he said after a little while longer. "Time to get sorted. Who's to say what my brother will do if we're not in bed by the time he gets back."

  Who indeed? Tempting though the prospect of Mark's displeasure and subsequent punishment was, I decided discretion probably was the better part of valor so undressed while Johnny brushed his teeth in the ensuite. By the time he emerged, I was stark naked under the covers and as near to the middle of the futon as I could get. As I didn't know which side each twin slept on, I thought I should be prepared for all eventualities.

  Johnny was wearing pajamas. Not just any old supermarket brand, buy-one-get-one-pair-free, but cream silk pajamas with his initials embroidered across one shoulder. I'd never been one for any sort of clothes in bed, but I had to say they suited him. However, I swear it was the surprise made me laugh. At this unfortunate reaction, Johnny raised his eyebrow at me, a gesture that dampened my response, but didn't entirely kill it.

  "What?" he said. "Don't you know it's all about the branding?"

  That only made it worse, and a moment later, I was writhing with laughter on the bed, all exhaustion forgotten, and with Johnny beating me with one of the pillows. Even though he was laughing, too, I clocked the fact that punishment, of any kind, wasn't just the responsibility of his twin. Definitely something to bear in mind for the future, assuming I survived the pillow abuse.

  By the time Mark returned, Johnny and I were giggling like children after way too much ice cream.

  "What the hell are you two up to?" He stood in the doorway, gloriously naked except for the towel slung over his shoulder, and doing nothing to hide his cock. Not that he'd probably been intending to, but still I couldn't help drooling.

  "Discussing pajamas," Johnny said, thankfully throwing the pillow to one side. "I don't think Liam liked mine."

  Mark nodded, took a couple of steps inside and pushed the door shut behind him. "Can't say I blame him. The boy's got taste. Anyway, what's the point of pajamas?"

  He had no argument from me, on any count. Mark slipped into bed--on the right, I noted--while I made use of a spare toothbrush in Johnny's bathroom and washed my face before going back to bed.

  Mark gestured me in next to him and nodded his approval. He obviously liked men with damp faces and minty breath. Then again, who didn't? Or, hell, maybe he just liked me. Now there was a thought, one to hold on to, come what may. As I settled myself down, Johnny turned off the light and slipped in behind me, as it were, gently pushing me sideways until he was spooning me, his chest against my back and his legs wrapping round mine. I found myself lying against Mark, wedged deliciously between the two men like the jam in a sandwich.

  Some jam. Some sandwich.

  The universe being what it was, and even in spite of the fact the twins were going to bed at an earlier time than usual, they were both asleep within minutes, whereas by then my prick had woken up and was looking around to see where the action was. No hope there. The action lay in Johnny's soft snore reverberating in my ear and the steady sound of Mark's grinding teeth.

  Obviously wound-up from the pillow fight, I ignored my inquisitive cock and fought the urge to giggle again. Not a very macho response, but I don't think I knew how to do those anyway and now probably wasn't the time to try.

  Instead, I stared out into the darkness and tried to work out exactly how I'd managed to get myself into this position and whether I could possibly patent the amount of good fortune I was currently enjoying and sell it to anyone who might need a little blessing from Lady Luck. I'd be more than willing to share it, though anyone out there could expect a fight if they thought I'd be willing to share the Delaneys as well. And, as the twins had been quick to discover, I wasn't a fighting man.

  I had other ways of getting results and there was no harm in that. In the words of that great gay role model La Barrowman, I am what I am, and I was bloody well proud of it.

  Besides, with the money I made from my devious patenting plan, maybe I could one day open my own gallery, with the support of Melissa, and even...

  No, best not to get into the realms of fantasy. I was happy with the way my life was, wasn't I? So why think about changing it? Oh, yes, I was one very happy bloke.

  This was the last thought in my head before I gave in to the sleep tugging at my mind.

  The next thing I knew, there was a crash and a shout, which dragged me from the misty arms of a pretty spicy dream involving a beach ball, a set of Lego, and the Delaneys. My recent reading matter must have been influencing me more than I thought.

  "Wha'? Whassamatter?" I mumbled, sitting upright and waving my arms around in an effort to find the light switch.

  "Stay down, Liam," came Johnny's hissed command as light finally flooded the bedroom, though I suspected this was his action rather than mine.

  At once, I slid back against the pillow and gazed out at the scene confronting me. Johnny was kneeling on the futon, staring with a kind of fierce concentration into the room. Rather more worrying than this was the fact he was also holding a gun, which looked pretty deadly to me.

  "Oh shit."

  "Shut up," he said, offering me the barest glance only, his aim reassuringly steady. Then, "Who's there? Show yourself. Now."

  There was an achingly long moment during which nothing happened, and I couldn't even think about my life, let alone have it flashing before my eyes, and then Mark's voice broke the silence.

  "It's me, Johnny, and for God's sake, stay cool and put away the gun."

  With that, his face arose from the floor next to the bed like Venus arising from the waves, but a more masculine version, and glared at both of us. Which even I thought was rather unfair, as whatever was going on was surely nothing to do with me.

  "Sorry," Johnny said and lowered his weapon before placing it under the pillow. "What just happened?"

  Oh, hell. If I'd known the gun was there, I wouldn't have been quite so eager to leap into bed as I had been earlier. Living with the twins was certainly going to be a dangerous sport, even more than I'd imagined.

  "Nothing happened. Nothing that needs an armed response anyway, little brother. God knows why you're so trigger-happy. Thank goodness you have me to keep you in line. And what happened was that Liam kicked me out of bed, so I'll need to add that particular misdemeanor to his punishment list."r />
  Had I? Obviously, the caution I'd been learning in my dealings with the Delaneys hadn't yet filtered down to my feet, and I was out of bed and kneeling before Johnny could even think about picking up the gun again.

  "Sorry, sir," I said, head bowed and wondering if there really was a punishment list and, if so, if I could steal a glance at it at some point. "I had no idea. Please forgive me, I'm sorry."

  Behind me, Johnny chuckled. "I don't think it was deliberate."

  "I know." Mark sighed and stood so his shadow towered over me, "Even so, in our business, we can't let anyone get away with anything. It's the slippery slope toward anarchy and God knows what. Standards are everything."

  "Yes, I realize," was Johnny's response, "but the bed's too small for the three of us. We'll have to buy another."

  Mark glared at his brother and then down at me. He leaned forward, resting his hands on my shoulders, bringing my mouth into the perfect position for his cock. Whatever he might have said to Johnny was lost forever as I took advantage of this opportunity and drew my tongue down his length.

  "Jesus, Liam." Mark stepped back. "You pick your moments, don't you?"

  I couldn't resist giving him a cheeky grin. "Just saying sorry for the small bed, sir."

  He snorted. "Oh yes, very funny. But you need to remember one thing, Liam."

  "What's that?"

  "Don't push it."

  "No, sir." I barely breathed my response. "Never."

  With hierarchy restored and Johnny's enthusiasm disarmed, we bundled ourselves back into bed and settled down for sleep once more.

  Just before I finally drifted off, Mark nudged me.

  "Sir?"

  "Just one thing, Liam. If you kick me out of bed again, I'll give Johnny full permission to shoot you. Understood?"

  "Understood, sir."

  * * * *

  For a variety of reasons, all of them more than valid, I was ten minutes late for work at the gallery the following morning. Melissa was already in and gave me a challenging stare as I stumbled through the front door and tried to make a quiet entry into the fray. This proved more difficult as she was sitting in my office rather than her own.