Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Does it have to be pink?” Kevin gripes, staring at the rope in Jeremy’s hand.

“Yep!” Jeremy chirps back. “We're aiming for a really specific look. The color is what’s suggested.”

“You are the one who volunteered. Now you have complaints?” Jean scoffs. He reaches across Jeremy and runs the baby-pink plaits over his fingers; it looks comically uncharacteristic.

Kevin glares at him, crossing his arms atop his chest. It’s slightly cold in Jeremy and Jean’s bedroom, and Kevin’s only wearing underwear. Chills find their way up his back and make his nipples pebble out.

“Just get on with it before I change my mind,” he says.

There are two bundles and only one of him; Jeremy takes the long ropes, connects the two with a knot, and nods to Jean. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Jeremy offers a smile that Kevin has never and will never be able to say no to. Jean, on the other hand, looks at him with a familiar, blazing intensity that doesn’t match the cold color in his irises. Both of them take a step closer, and Kevin feels his knees go weak.

Shit. This wasn’t the smartest idea, he thinks idly.

“Get on the bed,” Jeremy commands.

This may be the worst idea I’ve ever had. And I recruited Neil.

Kevin backs up until he stumbles and falls onto Jean’s mattress. It all smells like him, like lavender and petrichor and Jeremy.

Everything I have ever done has been a bad fucking idea.

Jeremy crawls onto the bed with him, crossed-legged with their knees touching. Jean slips in behind Kevin; even without seeing him, his presence is overwhelming.

“Thank you, by the way,” Jeremy says, “for letting us practice on you.”

“Sure,” he murmurs back.

“I’ll do your torso, Jean’s got your legs. Sounds good?”

“Yeah.”

One last smile, then Jeremy’s eyes shift to something focused. He loops the rope behind Kevin’s neck—Kevin knew that was supposed to happen, he knows what they’re trying to do—but Kevin tenses up. There’s no way Jeremy would be aware of his history around being choked like this; he didn’t meet Riko, Jean wouldn’t have told him.

Behind him, Jean places a reassuring hand on his hip. It’s pathetic how easily Kevin relaxes with his touch. He sighs, angry at himself for the weakness, and stays put for Jeremy.

Jeremy gets to work forming an X over his chest. He folds the rope over and under, crossing it around with an occasional hand slipped between the material and Kevin’s skin.

Kevin doesn’t really…touch people.

Aside from fist-fights and court brawls, he keeps to himself and that’s fine. Abby may hug him sometimes, Wymack will pat him on the back, but these small caresses that come so fucking easily for Jeremy—and now Jean—are intoxicating.

Small brushes of rough palms, drags of knuckles, Jean’s warm, large hand on Kevin’s bare skin. It’s novel. Slightly uncomfortable, if he’s honest with himself. He likes it too much and that disgusts him—infuriates him. He melts with it and can’t stop himself from sinking into the comfort, but his brain fights every step of the way. Kevin’s skin itches with the urge to run. To get as far away from these nice sensations as possible.

Jeremy twists two ends of rope around each other and pulls them away, then wraps them around Kevin’s back. He has to lean in to do so. His hair smells like tea tree oil against Kevin’s face.

“There! First part done,” he says.

Kevin looks down. A pink heart made of rope lays in the center of his chest. Three sections spread out from it, framing his torso down to his ribs.

“Oh,” Kevin says dumbly. “Impressive.”

“Thanks. The heart is the hardest part, and Jean doesn’t always wanna be my model.”

“You could always tie yourself,” Jean huffs. Air from his exhale hits the back of Kevin’s neck.

“Not as fun,” Jeremy shrugs. “Kevin, I’m going down to your hips and pelvis. Is that okay, or would you like to stop?”

As long as he keeps himself in check and has the mental fortitude to kill his boner, he’ll be okay.

“Keep going,” he murmurs.

Jeremy grips his bicep. “Thanks. You’re doing great, by the way. Really pliant.”

The blush hits his face before he can stop himself. “What?”

Biting his lip doesn’t stop Jeremy from smiling, a little teasing and a little…proud? “I don’t even have to tell you to lift your arms or shift closer to me. You just do it without me asking.”

Jean snorts behind him. Asshole. 

“Tu êtes sûr que ça va?” Jean asks right in his goddamn ear. After suppressing a flinch, Kevin turns slightly to see him.

“Ça va bien. Seriously.”

Jeremy glances up at them but goes back to his rope. He forms another X around Kevin’s stomach and continues on.

Now Jeremy is working lower. His strong hands keep running across Kevin’s navel as he folds the rope over on itself. At one point, the back of his hand glides over Kevin’s happy trail and makes him shiver. Kevin wishes he wore something a little more covering, a little more loose. His boxer briefs are flush against his body and start to feel tighter as Jeremy leans in, bleach-blond hair brushing his shoulder.

It doesn’t help that Jean seems to drift closer, peering over Kevin to watch his partner work. The tattoo on his cheekbone is so round compared to the sharpness of his bone structure; Kevin makes himself ignore how infuriatingly handsome Jean is—has always been.

His attraction to Jean has been a subject of deep shame for years. Since Kevin was fifteen, he’s been intrigued. Intrigued enough to be dangerous. 

Jean showed up in the Nest with wild curly hair, cute as a button with the thickest accent Kevin had ever heard. Within three years, that boy was destroyed. Carved into something rougher and stronger, ripped apart and stitched together again and again and again until he resembled Frankenstein’s monster more than a child. Devastating and beautiful.

Kevin remembers warning Jean off of men by using Jeremy’s story. He remembers killing his own attraction where it grew. He remembers staying awake at night, silently trying to carve the love out of him with Riko just a few feet away, asleep. He remembers using Thea in an attempt to fix himself.

All of that was for nothing, because now Kevin is sitting between Jean and Jeremy, who are together. Sitting in front of Jean, and struggling to breathe normally with his body so close, radiating heat like a neutron star, a hand always moving back to Kevin’s hip. All of it was for nothing, because Jeremy is right there, so competent and strong and fucking kind. He won’t stop checking to make sure the ropes are comfortable, glancing up to smile every few moments like Kevin is even worthy of it.

“I need to go between your legs,” Jeremy warns. “Can you sit on your knees?”

Kevin shifts to obey and spreads his legs, rising up into a kneel.

“Good bo—job. Good job,” Jeremy chokes and clears his throat. Jean reaches around to smack his shoulder, but Kevin can’t understand why.

Slow and steady, Jeremy threads the strands between Kevin’s legs. 

“Jean can you—yeah thanks.”

Splitting to the sides, they hug his groin and sit right where his thighs meet his pelvis. The baby pink stands out dramatically against his black underwear. Jean grabs the ropes and hands them to Jeremy; before doing that, he adjusts so they cup Kevin’s ass and go over his thighs.

Jeremy makes one last adjustment up front before handing it back to Jean, who ties it off.

He takes a moment to stare at Kevin.

“That's gorgeous,” Jeremy eventually whispers.

Kevin doesn’t know whether to thank him or compliment his skill, so his brain settles on turning his face bright red instead.

“Legs now?” Jean murmurs.

The partners trade places on the bed, Jeremy sliding in behind Kevin and Jean planting himself right in front. Watching them move has Kevin a little dizzy—but when they stop he still feels lightheaded.

Jean reaches below the bed and pulls out two new rope bundles, shorter in length but the same light pink color.

“Sit down and cross your legs,” he directs

Kevin obeys.

Jean grabs his right ankle, touch electric, and pushes it towards his inner thigh until Kevin’s knee is completely bent. With his doubled up rope, he wraps the two together so Kevin would have to use force to straighten again.

Two fingers slip under the cords to check their tightness; Jean’s knuckles brush the skin of his thigh and Kevin jolts.

“What was that?” Jeremy says teasingly.

“Tickled,” Kevin lies.

It’s psychological torture having them this close. A fucking temptation that’s been building for years. An ache that’s only getting worse.

Run, his brain commands. Just run.

But one of his legs is already bound. He can’t.

He doesn’t really want to.

Jean makes two more loops, one around his shin and the other up by his knee. Connecting all three circles with a stem, Jean secures the bonds even tighter.

He grabs Kevin’s ankle, fingers over his pulse. “Is that comfortable?”

“Yes.”

Jeremy peers over Kevin’s shoulder. “Looks good. You’re getting better.”

Jean hums in acknowledgment while manhandling Kevin’s other leg into place. Every time their skin meets, Kevin feels himself drift a little further away. His reaction timing seems slower, lagging. He finds it hard to keep his eyes open with how heavy his lids are; it’s less sleepy, more like a daze. The only thing keeping him tethered is Jean’s slow touch against him and Jeremy’s warmth at his back.

His heart pounds in his ears, echoing through his fingertips.

Hands rest on his waist. “Kev?”

“Hm?”

“What’s the matter?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, sounding like Neil.

“…Okay. You can lean into me if you want.”

Kevin lets himself melt backwards into Jeremy’s chest, because he isn’t very intelligent right now and no one ever accused him of having integrity. His eyes finally shut.

The partners whisper something to each other, but Kevin can’t quite process their speech.

Nice, tight pressure encases his entire body. Chest and ribs and stomach and legs. Jean tightens the bonds on his left to match the ones on his right. Kevin is keenly aware of every breath he takes and how he moves against Jeremy’s chest; is he breathing too fast or too slow? Too heavy or too shallow? Is the movement annoying?

Then Jeremy props his chin on Kevin’s head and he forgets to care.

Suddenly, Jean hums. “Jeremy?”

“Yeah?” There’s a pause. “Oh. Um. Do we do something about that?”

“I…do not know.”

Jeremy’s arms wrap around his waist; his muscles are built and secure, arm hair brushing Kevin’s stomach. He’s so, so warm—the same warmth Kevin seeps into every night under his blankets. But Jeremy is human and that makes him better. 

How could he have possibly denied himself all this time? This feels so good—so right. Like Kevin has finally settled into his skin after so long itching inside it.

“Kevin,” Jean says. 

Kevin doesn’t respond. Maybe if he pretends to be asleep, they’ll let him stay here a little while. If he doesn’t respond, they’ll keep him right here between them, where he belongs. Jean sighs, mindlessly holding Kevin by the knee. 

“Is he asleep?” Jeremy asks.

“I believe so. Not even a flinch when I called his name.” Because Kevin has always known how to fake being asleep. It’s kept him safe more times than he can count; Riko might have attacked others at night, but Kevin was too important to deprive of rest.

Jeremy hums in acknowledgment, then switches topics. “Your knots have been getting better. It must be comfortable if Kevin can conk out so easily in them.”

“I have been practicing on myself,” Jean admits—and that visual alone has Kevin’s chest drumming with want. Whether he wants to be the dummy Jean practices on, the one who binds him, or the ropes themselves, Kevin just wants so viscerally it’s sickening. “None of those ties have looked nearly as good as these, however.”

The smile on Jeremy’s face is audible. “That’s not a fair comparison. Everything looks good on Kevin.”

“True. I just—why did we let him volunteer? It was a stupid decision.” Kevin agrees, but hearing the words from Jean’s mouth still hurts. The water-filled cavity of his skull suddenly feels tense. A little bit of his swirling happiness fades away, just like it always does when Jean is angry with him. Which is often. “I should not have agreed to this.”

“As if you’d turn down the opportunity to watch me tie him up. C’mon, look at him. He’s too pretty to ignore.”

Jeremy thinks I’m pretty, some stupid, teenage-girl version of himself preens. It’s one thing to be aware of how many millions of people find him attractive based off of celebrity, it’s another to hear it from a man he’s been crushing on since age sixteen.

“I will never admit to those accusations out loud,” Jean grumbles.

…Huh?

Kevin doesn’t have time to process that sentence.

The worst part about pretending to be asleep is that his eyes are closed and his body slows down; his brain doesn’t know he wants to stay awake. Wrapped up in a warm embrace, three hours behind schedule due to his change in time zones, covered in soothing pressure, Kevin drifts off before he can stop it.

———

The first thought that pops into Kevin’s head when he wakes up is I can’t believe I actually fucking fell asleep.

The second thought, the exact moment he opens his eyes, is Where did Jean go?

An animalistic noise rips out of Kevin’s throat as he scans the room and finds Jean gone. Perked up with an adrenaline rush, his heart kicks into gear immediately.

“Oh, you’re up,” Jeremy says behind him.

Kevin heaves forward onto his knees, searching again just in case he somehow didn’t see a 6’3 backliner his first time around. Nothing. Not a trace except the ropes still binding Kevin’s legs. It’s harder to breathe all of the sudden with despair compressing his lungs.

“Where’d ‘e go?” Kevin asks, desperation lining his voice.

“Woah. It’s okay, Kev, just calm down and—“

“Why’d he leave? Did I—did I do something? Is he mad?”

Tears prick in Kevin’s eyes; it’s strange, but he can’t find the logic to understand why it’s happening. He can’t bring himself to fight it off. What did I do this time? How far away is Jean? Some primal part of him can only think, I know I left you. Please don’t leave me, too.

He’s gone. He’s gone he’s gone he’s gone and when is he coming back and what did I do wrong? Why does my chest hurt this badly?

“Bring him back,” Kevin turns to Jeremy to beg. “I’ll do better this time. Make him come back.”

Jeremy stares with a gaping mouth for several moments. “Jean! Get in here!”

About three seconds later, the bedroom door swings open, knob hitting the wall so hard the entire frame shakes. A frazzled Jean busts into the room; Kevin leans so far forward he nearly falls off the bed.

“What? What happened?” He demands.

“We messed up. Like, majorly.”

Kevin tips closer and Jean has to race across the room to catch him. Holding his shoulders wide-eyed, Jean examines every inch of him with a fury. 

“I’m sorry,” Kevin chokes back a sob. “Please don’t leave again.”

Jean’s jaw drops. He looks to Jeremy for guidance; Kevin tips his head into Jean’s chest instead of turning to see. Heartbeat thundering under his cheek, he trembles from the comfort of having Jean back in his sight.

His absence felt like a rejection, like someone ripped out Kevin’s bleeding heart and ate it in front of him. Kevin recognizes his head is fucked up, but he doesn’t care. Jean is here, in front of his eyes, physical and materialized and real. Real, unlike the phantoms Kevin used to see out of the corner of his eyes the first few months out of the Nest. Real, unlike the accented voice he used to hear late at night in bed.

“I go to get water and this happens? What the fuck, Jeremy.”

“I don’t know! He woke up and instantly started panicking. I think he’s dropped.”

Jean’s grip tightens on Kevin’s shoulders. “How? We did nothing except tie him up. That shouldn’t be enough to—“

“You were facing him at the end. Was he getting spacey? I thought he was just tired, but was he zoning out?”

“Not that I saw.”

Their voices get increasingly desperate as they argue back and forth. Kevin clutches Jean’s shirt to feel the warmth of his body; it’s both familiar and new, calming yet electrifying.

“Je regrette de t’avoir laissé tout seul,” he says, pressing his lips over Jean’s pulse.

Jean freezes.

“Kevin?”

“Stay.”

“I am here. I am not leaving.”

Jeremy clears his throat. “I think Kevin should lay down and rest. I’ll be out in in the living room if—“

“No!” Kevin snaps. He whips around to see Jeremy’s face. “Why are you leaving, too?”

Big brown eyes alight with shock, Jeremy takes a while to respond. “I thought you’d be more comfortable with only Jean. It’s okay if you are—I don’t mind.”

“But you’re safe,” he says. “I want you here.”

It might be a trick of the light, but Jeremy’s face looks warmer than before. Pink just over his tan, a pretty backdrop to the freckles across his cheeks.

The partners share another look Kevin can’t decipher, then nod.

Jeremy and Jean end up against the headboard with their legs crossed and flushed together. Kevin rests his head on the pillow of Jean’s massive thigh and throws his left arm over Jeremy’s lap.

The beat of Jean’s femoral pulse echoes through Kevin’s empty skull. Jeremy’s fingers dance along the silver scars on his left hand. Legs still bent, Kevin rests on his stomach with his feet bound up by his ass.

A hand digs into Kevin’s hair; he doesn’t know whose.

“Maybe we should untie you—“

“No!” He snaps. The pressure is too nice and Jeremy thought he was pretty and the ropes are a mark that they left—he can’t just take them off.

“Kevin,” Jeremy murmurs, “do you know what’s happening to you right now?”

“…No.”

“Okay. I’m trying to think of a way to explain it that doesn’t overstep. Um…What were you thinking about, during?”

Shivers run down his spine at the thought of admitting to it. Nausea swirls around inside him along with shame. Shame that he has the audacity to want Jean after everything he’s put him through, the audacity to ask him to stay after abandoning him so many times. Shame for looking Jeremy in the eye and thinking he’s beautiful when it’s clear he’s committed to Jean. Shame that he’s so fucking selfish for making them take care of him when he isn’t even hurt.

“It was nothing,” Kevin says.

“Bullshit,” Jean rebukes. “Tell me.”

“It was just you. I was thinking about you. It’s nothing.”

“About Jean?” Jeremy asks.

“Both of you.”

Jean’s hand finds the nape of his neck and completely encompasses it. The pressure soothes and settles; Kevin feels like a dog being held by the scruff. The fingers in his hair pet idly.

“What were you thinking about us?” The quiet encouragement in Jeremy’s tone is devastating—because how is Kevin supposed to ignore him? How is he supposed to lie?

He isn’t strong enough to.

“It was nice,” he says, barely more than a whisper, “being around you two. It felt good being close.”

“When was the last time someone touched you like this?” Jean suddenly asks.

The female raven when I was younger. When Riko tried to fix me.

Thea. When I tried to fix myself. When it didn’t work.

Kevin shrugs.

Jeremy sighs. He scoots down the bed until his body runs parallel to Kevin’s, then shifts until they’re pressed together from shoulder to thigh. “The point is, you went from a lot of feel-good chemicals to nothing fast enough that it messed with your head. Now we have to replenish all that dopamine and serotonin. It would help if you told us how.”

He stares straight into Jeremy’s eyes, sniffles once, then can’t stop himself from crying.

“Shit—Jean what do I—?”

“How should I know?”

“You’re his—he was your—Jesus fuck,” Jeremy stumbles through his words, eyes darting between Kevin and Jean for answers. Eventually he settles on pulling Kevin into a bear hug, tucked carefully under his chin as he joins the Queen in Jean’s lap. His voice changes drastically as he says, “Shhh, shhh. It’s okay, Kev, I got you.”

Kevin is close to trembling out of his skin as he sobs. Tears roll in uncontrollable, warm streams down his twisted face. He knows he’s whimpering, he knows it’s pathetic, he knows Jeremy is petting up and down his spine while avoiding the rope still casing him in.

“It’s okay, let it all out.”

Kevin can’t say no to Jeremy, so he keeps crying to obey. He heaves into Jeremy’s chest. By this point they’re facing each other with their heads pillowed on Jean; Kevin realizes far too late that he’s hard against Jeremy’s thigh.

“You’re doing great, Kev.” Jeremy whispers reassurances into his hair while Jean combs out tangles with his fingers. It hurts that Jeremy is the only person who calls him that—so deeply personal, and it makes Kevin want more from him. He’s trapped in an endless cycle of shame and affection that makes his head spin.

“I’m sorry,” Kevin chokes. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“Fucking everything.”

Jean’s breath hitches above them. “Elaborate.”

“You didn’t ask for any of this,” Kevin begins. Once he starts, he can’t manage to stop. The floodgates open. “I show up and I sleep under your roof without you knowing how fucking selfish that is. I volunteer myself as your goddamn test dummy—not because you need it, but because I wanted you to use me. I’m fucking laying here in Jean’s bed like I have any right to even be near him after what I did! I can’t—You shouldn’t take care of me. I don’t deserve it. I want you both so much and it isn’t fucking fair.”

Kevin is hyperventilating by the end of his rant, curling into himself to hide, clutching his ribs.

“Oh my God,” Jeremy says. Kevin waits for Jeremy to shove him off the bed, cut the ropes away and kick him out before he has the chance to touch either of them ever again.

But Jeremy doesn’t. He hugs tighter.

Jean’s hand wraps around Kevin’s neck without a hint of pressure. His fingers caress the column of Kevin’s throat.

“Kevin, breathe. That is an order,” Jean says.

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know you are. I am most likely an idiot for forgiving you, but I do. Now calm the fuck down and breathe.”

Kevin forces himself to inhale slower, though it takes several attempts.

“Good bo—job,” Jean fumbles, then sighs. Jeremy scoffs at him. “Match Jeremy’s pace. You are not in trouble.”

The rise and fall of Jeremy’s chest against his own is a calming metronome. Couple that comfort with Jean’s command, and Kevin’s body naturally follows suit.

“Just like that. That’s perfect,” Jeremy says.

Large stains of tears mark Jeremy’s shirt, soaking up the waterfalls on Kevin’s cheeks. He smells like the dark roast he chugged just before they tied Kevin up, and also like Jean’s soap. If Kevin tries hard enough, he can pick out their individual scents, but the partners always have a trace of each other that won’t wash off. Neil and Andrew are the same way; chocolate and fresh netting and one another.

Jeremy’s lips find their way to Kevin’s hairline. His kiss feels like being slammed in the gut with a racquet.

“Don’t,” Kevin pleads.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

Jean hums far back in his throat, nearly a growl. “Jeremy, do it again. Kevin, stay still and take it.”

“But—“

Fingers tense over Kevin’s carotids. “No. I know why you are telling him to stop. I am telling you that it is okay. Jeremy?”

“Oh thank God,” Jeremy sighs. He cups Kevin’s cheeks in his hands and peppers kisses all over his head.

Muscles turn to mush, face stuffed with cotton, Kevin trembles and revels in it. His brain consists of fluff and light, glowing a little brighter with every peck. Jean’s hand shifts from his neck to his nape, tugging the dark hair there. Kevin gasps, drowning in affection.

“Jean,” he croaks, “I can’t. I can’t.”

“You have always been a bit stupid, Kevin, but I did not think it was this bad,” Jean says. Kevin doesn’t argue, not when he’s in this situation to begin with. Jean’s tone is mild enough—endeared enough—that it has the same effect the kisses do, melting Kevin further. “Why do you think you are here? Why do you think we haven’t kicked you out yet? Why do you think we are doing any of this right now?”

“‘Cause you’re nice,” Kevin murmurs.

Jeremy squeezes his face and smacks a kiss directly on his forehead. “You’re so cute. Jean, can we keep him?”

“If he gets his head out of his ass, then yes.”

“Huh?”

“You fucking—Jeremy, pull him up.”

Hands grab under his arms and Kevin is suddenly pulled to his knees, stumbling before Jean holds him steady by the waist. 

Jean straightens his left leg but sets it between Kevin’s. The Queen is dangerously close to straddling it; Jean tugs Kevin closer by the rope until he actually does, bulge rubbing against the scarred mass of his thigh. Kevin’s mouth falls open, head hanging down as warm fire stokes in his groin. “Oh, fuck.”

Jean grabs him by the jaw—his vision swims for a moment.

“You unbelievable, beautiful idiot,” Jean calls him. “We want you, as well.”

Kevin’s mind goes blank.

Next to him, Jeremy snickers and adjusts so his body wraps around Kevin’s. Knees caging him in, strong hands holding his hips, Jeremy effectively sandwiches him so he can’t escape. Pressed between Jean and Jeremy, Kevin feels like the most confused PB&J ever.

“…Why?”

Jean grabs his shoulders and shakes vigorously. All Kevin can do is groan as his brain rattles around his head.

“Jean! Don’t break him!” Jeremy scolds.

“Fine,” he hisses, then grabs Kevin by the face and pulls him into a kiss.

Any ounce of wanting to run dissipates inside of Kevin.

Jean’s lips are soft and raw from being bitten, his hands rough and secure from use. It’s clear Jean knows how to do this—knows how to kiss someone with a modicum of competency—but Kevin is clumsy against him and chases whenever Jean pulls back for air. Kevin doesn’t need to breathe, doesn’t need to think, not with Jean holding his face and Jeremy covering his back.

It’s everything he’s craved since he was sixteen, and it sets his blood on fire.

He wraps his arms around Jean’s neck, moving even closer. He’s hard against Jean’s hip now, their chests flush together. Kevin feels Jean gasping, feels his heart beating, feels his own brain melt out his ears.

Eventually he gets yanked back by Jeremy. Jean heaves in a breath, face rosy and warm.

“Let him breathe, Kev,” Jeremy laughs, holding Kevin’s harness to keep him away.

Kevin twists around and kisses him, too.

Jeremy hums and meets him with equal enthusiasm. Whatever knowledge Jean has, Jeremy has more; somehow his lips move in a way that sends sparks up Kevin’s spine. Directed by Jeremy’s movements, they ebb and flow, press closer and draw back, all in a rhythm that Kevin can’t comprehend. A wet tongue slides across his bottom lip and Kevin can’t open his mouth quick enough. 

Licking into his mouth, Jeremy’s tongue curls around Kevin’s and for some inconceivable reason, it feels good. Kevin follows his lead, pulse pounding across his body.

Jean grabs Kevin by the rope around his hips and guides him into a grind. He moans straight down Jeremy’s throat.

There are such stark differences Kevin notices between kissing men and women. The main one being he actually feels something with the connection of his lips on Jean’s and Jeremy’s. Sparks and fire and glowing. Kevin’s face aches with blush, pleasure coursing through him and buzzing in every vein. His bone marrow is weightless, his platelets tingling within his blood. Their stubble rubs against his, hair short enough not to get in the way, chest-to-chest without breasts in the way of him feeling their hearts. Kevin feels like a toy being passed around—because these two know what they want, know how to get it, know how to overpower someone.

Jeremy pulls back despite Kevin chasing his lips. “You gotta breathe, too.”

He realizes he’s hyperventilating. Kevin gulps down a deep breath.

“Do you finally understand?” Jean says, brows furrowed.

All Kevin can do is nod.

“You’re cute,” Jeremy sighs, resting his chin on Kevin’s shoulder. “You blush so easily.”

“I didn’t know it could feel like this,” Kevin whispers. Jean groans and kisses him again, licking Jeremy’s taste off of him.

Lips drift over his neck, sending chills down his spine. He lets his eyes fall shut. Kevin throbs through his underwear right against Jean’s hip. There are strong hands all over his body, petting and caressing and rubbing—Kevin can’t differentiate whose is whose. They’re larger than Thea’s ever were, even though she was fully grown by the time Kevin was eighteen. Their hands make Kevin feel small but safe. 

“Jean?” Jeremy says right next to Kevin’s ear.

After a few moments where he assumes they look at each other, Jean hums. A rough finger starts at Kevin’s chest and trails all the way down to the waistband of his underwear. 

“Would you like help with this?” Jean asks.

Kevin shudders. He opens his eyes and is met with Jean’s burning gaze, staring straight through his soul. “Really?”

“Really really,” Jeremy murmurs. “You can have either of us.”

“…Can I have both?”

A wicked smile lands on Jean’s face. “Greedy,” he says, though he looks incredibly pleased. He places a hand over Kevin’s bulge and holds eye contact as he squeezes. 

Pure heat swirls from his touch. Jeremy’s palms land on Kevin’s pec and thigh, groping what little fat there is. “I’ve wanted to do this forever,” he says, breath washing over the skin on Kevin’s neck.

“You—have?” Kevin chokes.

“You’re a heartthrob. It’s kinda annoying how attractive you are. Plus I know you personally; more things to fantasize about.”

Jean strokes Kevin’s cock through his underwear—and that with Jeremy’s words has Kevin shaking.

Watching Jean touch him like this is surreal. Fantasies are one thing, but they don’t compare to the actual sight of Jean in front of him, looking hungry and sure with a confidence Kevin has never seen from him before. The feeling of someone else’s hands, a different shape than Kevin’s own with different scars. A body Kevin used to see so many times but is now changed, fuller and healthier.

Jean isn’t the same person Kevin used to know, but the ways he’s developed are so breathtaking Kevin doesn’t care.

“You’re staring,” Jeremy points out. “Not that I blame you.”

Kevin tries to squeeze his eyes shut but Jean grabs his chin. 

“Look at me.” He does. “Good. You look lovely in rope, Kevin.”

It’s hard not to squirm under the attention—especially when the partners trade off, Jeremy rubbing his cock while Jean pets the rest of him. Jean guides Kevin by the rope harnesses at his hips and chest, drawing him closer and grinding them together. He moans into Jean’s lips and clutches his shirt for support, the back of his neck burning as Jeremy mouths at it.

“You can mark me,” Kevin whispers, “if you want to.”

Jeremy and Jean share a look, silent conversation passing between them. Jean nods.

“D’you want that, Kev?” Jeremy asks, voice thick and sweet. A fingertip traces his trapezius muscles light enough to trigger poprocks in his spinal fluid. “Want me to leave hickeys here? Your shirts wouldn’t cover them all. People would see them in locker rooms.”

“Please,” he manages to beg.

A warm, wet tongue flicks the shell of his ear.

Jeremy places a single kiss on his trap, then sinks his teeth into it and sucks. Kevin gasps and leans back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jean smiles. He grabs Kevin by the hair and drags him right back in.

At the same time, Jean’s tongue slips past Kevin’s lips and Jeremy’s hand slips into his underwear.

A rough palm spreads precum down his length, then goes back up to massage the line between head and shaft. Jeremy slides a finger over Kevin’s slit then laughs when it makes him jolt. Jean sacrifices a hand to guide Kevin by the ass, grinding a thigh up for friction against his balls.

Hands on his hair and ass and cock—fourth hand, where is the fourth hand?

Two of Jeremy’s fingers rub Kevin’s hole through his underwear.

Kevin cums with a cry that goes straight down Jean’s throat.

His entire body shakes violently, unable to stop for several long moments. It feels like all their touches get firmer, grips more aggressive as they hold him steady. The security makes his head spin.

“Wow,” Jeremy says, “that’s a lot. Were you pent-up?”

Kevin makes an indecipherable gurgle in response.

He’s refused to jerk off for years, actually. Whenever he tried, he just ended up thinking about men. Kevin deduced that if he didn’t allow himself to relate the two, then he would be safe inside his own head.

His sheets have suffered greatly.

Jeremy carefully pulls his hand out of Kevin’s boxer briefs. He holds it out like a display for Jean, palm-up with enough cum that it drips down his wrist. Jean sucks in a breath, eyes a little wider.

Jean clears his throat. 

“Well?” He says. “Clean it up.”

Kevin’s hips jerk subconsciously. Without even seeing Jeremy, he can hear his smile. The blond politely brings his hand closer to Kevin’s face.

He darts his tongue out and licks up a stream from forearm to palm.

“Good boy,” Jean and Jeremy both say at once. They look immediately relieved upon doing so.

Kevin laps up his mess with more enthusiasm. There’s no real flavor aside from salt and warmth, and Jeremy’s skin under that. What Kevin loves is the pure taboo of it; drinking his own cum while shoved between the two men who caused his orgasm in the first place, wearing stupid pink rope that makes him look like a Valentine’s Day present.

After Jeremy is licked clean, he kisses Kevin in search of the taste.

He hums happily and pulls away. “Jean?”

Holding Kevin’s chin, Jean leans in, too. “Hm. Not bad.”

“Bet we could train him to taste better,” Jeremy says. “Jean tastes delicious, Kevin. You should try him, sometime.”

I’ve been wanting to for five years, but thanks for the invitation, Kevin thinks idly.

There’s a twist in his stomach that feels like genuine hunger, and an ache in his chest so similar to grief. He wants the ropes embedded into his skin, wants Jeremy’s hickeys to never have the chance to fade.

“Keep me,” he whispers.

The partners freeze. Jean stares with an odd innocence.

“What did you say?” Jeremy asks.

“Keep me,” Kevin insists, louder. “Keep me. I’ll do better—I’ll be good. I’ll be the best. Just keep me.”

“Kevin,” Jean stresses, “we never would have done this unless we wanted to have you. I never would have touched you unless I wanted you.”

“Want me for longer than just tonight. I’ll stay. I won’t leave you this time.”

Jean cups his neck in both hands, and Kevin thinks about how easy it would be for him to crush Kevin’s windpipe. “You are going back home, and that is okay.”

“We aren’t going to forget you exist just because you aren’t in our line of sight,” Jeremy says. “If you think we’re capable of forgetting any of this, then you’re delusional.”

“But—“

“I have wanted you for years. That is not going to stop now. Not when I’ve just gotten a taste,” Jean says, serious as a heart attack.

It hits Kevin then, that they are capable of the same pining he is. That they want him exactly like how he wants them. That leaving isn’t a death sentence, not this time. There is no one they’re in trouble with for wanting each other, and no one can stop them.

“Okay,” Kevin whispers. “Okay.”

Jeremy kisses his cheek. “We still want to keep you.”

“Promise me,” Kevin demands.

Jean runs his thumbs along the blades of Kevin’s jaw. “I promise. I promise I want you, I promise I want to keep you.”

“Jean and I have talked about this before,” Jeremy says. “I mean, it was usually just fantasizing, but we did talk logistics of how it would work if we ever managed to get with you.”

Kevin blinks.

“Oh.”

Using the harness around his hips, Jeremy tugs Kevin back into his chest. “We’ll figure this out. We always do.”

It’s physically painful, but Kevin forces himself to believe that. He forces himself to trust them.

Jean leans in to kiss him. Warm, wet lips on his own, the pressure making it hard to keep his eyes open. When they pull apart, Jean makes him hold eye contact.

“You are not running from this. From us. I will not let you, this time,” he insists.

Kevin nods. “Good.”

He watches a small smile break onto Jean’s face, and feels Jeremy’s lips quirk on the back of his neck.

“Good,” Jeremy and Jean murmur.