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The sight of Gerard dressed in nothing more than stockings and a garter belt as he bounced up and down on the Mastress’s lap was a sight not out of the ordinary for Frank - the manor’s servant. 

When Frank had accepted the job at the manor, he’d been forewarned by folk in the local tavern that Mastress Morrison and their friend, Gerard Way, were quite the odd pair… but none of them had the first clue as to how carnal the two were. Being a live-in servant meant Frank spent more time with Mastress Morrison and Gerard than he did his own flesh and blood, and after working at the manor for six months, he had seen everything there was to see. 

Frank had just finished dusting the sitting room and had gone upstairs to polish the bedroom furniture when he had heard the distinct and familiar sounds of grunts, moans and clapping skin. It was far from the first time he’d watched the pair as they made love, and it was a miracle he hadn’t been caught yet. Sometimes he wondered if the lovers wanted him to see, or if they exaggerated their moans so that their cries of passion echoed through every quarter of the manor for Frank to hear. Other times, Frank was certain that he only told himself that to rid himself of his guilt.

Their bedroom door was left ajar, and through the slim gap he could see them clearly. He knew it was wrong to watch them, and Mastress Morrison, as nice as they were, would surely have his head if they were made aware of Frank’s perversions, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. By now, Frank had memorised every beauty mark on Gerard’s body, and every fine curl of hair on Mastress Morrison’s. 

“Mmm… let me hear you, sweetheart. Let me… nngh, let me hear my name as you were meant to say it.” Mastress Morrison moaned the words clear as day, and Frank’s cheeks turned a fine shade of beetroot. 

Sometimes, Mastress Morrison would pretend Gerard was a lady, which Frank found to be rather peculiar. The Mastress was more stunning than any portrait that hung on the walls of the manor, and they could certainly have any lady they wanted. Frank wasn’t sure if they actually wanted Gerard to be a woman or if it was all for play, but he found it to be oddly erotic none the less. 

Other times, they would secure Gerard to the bed with binds made of metal chains and rope, and would cover Gerard’s sight by the means of a blindfold. Gerard was always the loudest when he was bound. He would scream Mastress Morrison’s name like bloody murder and beg for their mercy, but Frank knew the last thing Gerard wanted was for Mastress Morrison to stop. He could see it in the way his biceps flexed and his legs shook; he could hear it in his voice. Clearly, Mastress Morrison saw it too, because they never did stop, and would continue to torture Gerard with pain and pleasure until he came undone completely.

He watched as Gerard bounced up and down on the Mastress’s lap, utterly mesmerised by the way his silk garter belt slid up and down his thighs with every movement. Mastress Morrison’s hands were gripping his arse so tightly that Frank could see red circles forming where their fingers dipped into his soft skin. He was sure it must have hurt Gerard, but the moans that were slipping from his lips were from anything but displeasure. It was clear to Frank by now that Gerard loved to be in pain, at least where the bedroom was concerned. 

Mastress Morrison was lain at the head of the bed with their upper back resting against the velvet headboard and their legs splayed out. Frank always knew when the Mastress was close to their climax by the way their toes curled into the soles of their feet. When Gerard was close, his body shook like he had been struck by a winter blizzard, and a striking blush would rise from his nipples all the way to his cheekbones. 

He watched as Mastress Morrison’s toes curled and knew exactly what was coming. Frank’s cock was as hard as a barrel as he watched the two unfurl, and it was all he could do to not touch himself in the corridor. He leaned closer to the door and squinted his eyes, focusing on Gerard’s cheeks as the Mastress spilled into him. He almost drooled as he watched their seed drip down Gerard’s crease and onto the sheets, silky and thick. Frank had let a lover take him before, and he could vividly remember how wonderful it felt to be filled, and how warm his ex-lover’s seed had been when it dripped down his thighs. 

His ex-lover and he would often reverse their roles in the bedroom. Sometimes, Frank would be the one to take him, and other times, he would be taken. Frank rarely had a preference. Both roles came with its own unique pleasure; a pleasure that Frank missed dearly. He could still remember the taste of his ex-lover’s seed on his tongue. He had heard it be described as salty by others, but he didn’t find that to be the truth at all. It was sweet and musky, sometimes muted, depending on what his ex had eaten prior to spilling his load on Frank’s tongue. There had never been a time when Frank hadn’t swallowed it like it was the finest wine, regardless of what unique flavour it took on that day.

He watched, hypnotised, as the Mastress’s seed dribbled down Gerard’s skin, which was raw red from likely being spanked beforehand. In his arousal it was all too tempting to barge in on the couple and take it upon himself to clean the ejaculate off Gerard’s thigh with his tongue. There was no doubt in his mind that Mastress Morrison would taste better than his ex-lover. 

Mastress Morrison stayed rooted inside of Gerard for some time. Frank couldn’t see their faces, but it was clear that the two were kissing. He noticed that Mastress Morrison always enjoyed kissing Gerard after they made love. Sometimes, their post-sex kissing lasted longer than the love-making itself; foreplay included.

Frank felt guilty. The two were connected by the most sacred parts of their bodies; folded into one another as their lips embraced. Oddly, it felt more intimate than when they were actually making love. Frank felt like his heart was wrenching. He ached for it; to feel the love he saw in Mastress Morrison and Gerard. He didn’t want it from anybody else, and he didn’t want it from just Mastress Morrison or just Gerard. He wanted to join them both, to love them both fully in the same way they did each other. 

He quietly slipped away from his hiding place and went to find another. He made his way to the upstairs library and sat on the windowsill, with his feather duster and polish balanced on his lap.

Despite having had a lover who was male, the relationship he had shared with his then-partner was nothing like Mastress Morrison and Gerard’s. His relationship had been nothing more than lust; there hadn’t been any love there, no romance or meaningful connection. It was just sex. Primal and curious, in a world where being queer was deemed to be sinful. Frank hadn’t minded, not one bit. At the time, all he wanted was to explore his sexuality that had been painfully repressed, and he’d got from the relationship exactly what he wanted, as did his ex-lover. 

Now, he wanted more. He wanted love, compassion. He ached to be seen and understood, and more than that, accepted for what he was and loved for it regardless; just like the pair in the bedroom. Mastress Morrison and Gerard had opened Frank’s eyes to a love he didn’t know existed, and since he had been witness to their romance, it was all that consumed his mind and heart. 

He sat and stared out of the window until the drizzly sky turned dark. The sun set behind the backdrop of the gardens and took any energy he had along with it. Usually, after watching Mastress Morrison and Gerard bed one another, he would retreat to his room and touch himself. He would replay the events in his head but add himself to them; instead of just Mastress Morrison and Gerard, Frank was there too. 

He would be lain between the two, and both Mastress Morrison and Gerard would make love to him, and he to them. Sometimes, in the depths of his head, he would service Gerard whilst he was bound to the bed, and would find praise from Mastress Morrison while doing so. Other times, he was the one who was bound. Gerard would be by his head, kissing him softly whilst he played with his nipples. Mastress Morrison would be by his legs, teasing him with light touches until he begged them for mercy; just like Gerard had so many times before. 

Now was not the time to touch himself. Since living with the pair, he had become attuned to living with a constant level of arousal that was permanently present. It was only natural that he’d grown used to the feeling, and was able to ignore it with greater ease than he would have been able to prior to his arrival at the manor. He often thought that this would please Mastress Morrison. He wondered how much they would praise him for being able to control his own arousal so well, to be so well versed in delayed gratification. 

While his arousal was certainly high enough to reach into his breeches and come undone by his own hand in only a matter of seconds, he felt too sorry for himself to not reach his climax without bursting into tears. As it were, he would rather be held than bedded, at least in that moment. Hours had passed since he’d perved on Mastress Morrison and Gerard, and it would have been pathetically weak to give in now. 

When the night time sky became too dark to admire, he trudged to his room and heaved himself onto his bed. He had never been a spiritual man, but something deep-routed in the back of his mind told him that he should pray for forgiveness. If Hell was real, he would be sure to find himself there for being as perverted as he was. He hadn’t once felt guilty over his queerness, but his taste for voyeurism carried enough weight of its own. 

It was wrong. He was wrong. But as long as Mastress Morrison and Gerard left their bedroom door ajar, he simply couldn’t help himself. If he did find himself a resident in a low level of Hell following his death, then so be it. Not only did he deserve it, but he had enjoyed every second of his sins; despite how bitter-sweet the after taste was, it was a thrill he couldn’t refuse. 

***

The next time Frank heard the sweet calls of Mastress Morrison and Gerard’s love-making, he had been working in the gardens shovelling dirt and de-weeding the paving stones. The autumn brought strong winds and heavy rain, but he could hear Gerard’s cries over the noisy weather like a personal siren that was tailor made for his ear. 

He planted his shovel into a patch of grass and looked up to the manor, squinting through the heavy rain. Mastress Morrison had left their bedroom window wide open. The wind was forcing the rain into every which direction and there was no doubt in Frank’s mind that the floor of their bedroom must have been soaked. Never mind the fact that the rain was falling so heavily, it also was freezing cold. Frank had on four layers; a vest, a knitted sweater, a waistcoat and a waterproof jacket. The manor, grand as it was, wasn’t well insulated enough to stand the force of cold weather. It was beyond Frank why Mastress Morrison would have their window open as wide as if it were the middle of July. 

He ran inside and stopped by the staircase, hovering over the banister to listen for Gerard. He could hear his moans and cries, but they were more muted now than they had sounded from outdoors. 

He bent down and took off his wellington boots. His thermal socks were just about the only item of clothing he wore that was still dry, but he was far from concerned by how drenched he was. He tip-toed up the stairs, making sure to only tread on the very corners of each wooden step. He had discovered early on that walking centrally up the staircase made the ageing wood creak, but treading lightly on the sides was almost undetectable and barely made a sound. 

Once again, just like every other time, their bedroom door had been left ajar. Frank crept across the corridor, pushing his drenched hair away from his forehead, and quietly approached their bedroom.

Gerard was on all fours, positioned horizontally on the bed so that Frank had a full view of his body from the side. Mastress Morrison was knelt behind him, servicing Gerard’s hole with only their fingers. Gerard’s cock was jumped every time the Mastress flexed and hooked their two fingers, and a long string of pre-ejaculate connected the head of Gerard’s cock to the linen sheets, where a damp puddle had formed. 

Gerard’s thighs were trembling and his body shined in a thin layer of perspiration; it was clear that he had been in that position for some time, and Frank considered himself lucky that he hadn’t missed watching the pinnacle. 

“How’s that, sweetheart?” Mastress Morrison asked, working their fingers at a quicker pace. 

Gerard’s answer came in the form of a broken moan. Mastress Morrison added a third finger, and Gerard’s elbows soon buckled beneath him; his chest splayed flat on the sheets with his arse raised high. It was beautiful. They were beautiful. 

“C - close, Grant - I can’t… oh, God -“ Gerard cried. His mouth hung open in a silent scream against the linen and the blush that Frank was so familiar with graced his cheeks. The next moment, he was spilling his seed all over the sheets. Mastress Morrison didn’t even have to touch his cock. 

Frank watched in awe as rope after rope of ejaculate spilled from Gerard’s cock. His climax seemed to last forever. Frank had never reached a climax without his cock being paid attention to before, and by the looks of Gerard’s heaving chest and throbbing erection, being made to come from only the prostate seemed to reach a greater peak. 

Gerard slid off the bed and onto his knees, and Mastress Morrison sat on the edge in front of him with their legs parted on either side of Gerard’s body. Without a single prompt, Gerard sunk down and buried his face between the Mastress’s thighs. 

Mastress Morrison grabbed Gerard’s raven locks and guided his head up and down in his lap. They moaned and grunted, as did Gerard. Frank’s eyes were straining; close to streaming. He refused to blink, refused to miss even a fracture of a second of the beautiful sight before him. 

It wasn’t long before the Mastress came undone. They held Gerard’s head with both of their hands, forcing his face deeper into their lap as they moaned above him. They chanted Gerard’s name and sang his praise, and when they were done, swiped their thumb across Gerard’s lip to collect a fallen droplet of ejaculate. 

Frank swallowed hard and allowed himself to blink at last. He scurried away to his room, which was on the floor above, and bolt locked the door behind him. 

The second he was in his room he flopped onto the bed. He lay flat on his stomach as he buried his face into the nearest pillow and fought the urge to scream. He felt frustrated with the world, but mostly just at himself. If he had an ounce more confidence, if he had inherited even a grain of his families seemingly genetic arrogance, then perhaps he would have the backbone to voice his feelings to both Mastress Morrison and Gerard. 

The two were more liberal than any people he had ever met. Frank had witnessed them enact almost every fetish that existed, and they made love so loudly, so freely. Frank was certain they were the type who wouldn’t be opposed to letting one more person join. The both of them were the most generous people in the world, Frank was sure. They paid him handsomely, a wage which often times felt wholly undeserved to Frank, and treated him with more respect than his own flesh and blood ever did. They gave away love so easily. Frank wondered how easily they would share their relationship.  Perhaps their generosity would extend to their bedroom, or, perhaps Frank was simply fooling himself. The latter was more likely.

Frank groaned into the pillow and flipped onto his back, staring up at the white ceiling. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, and behind his lids Mastress Morrison and Gerard was all that he could see. In his mind, he let his eyes trail down Gerard’s body, dripping with the Mastress’s seed. He thought about the pearl of ejaculate that he had once watched roll down Gerard’s thighs and wondered if it had still been warm by the time it reached his knees. He imagined himself bending down and collecting the droplet on the tip of his tongue. He would have followed the droplet’s path, chasing it all the way down Gerard’s legs, and down towards his toes. 

Without a conscious thought he cupped his crotch, squeezing his hard cock through the thin material of his breeches. He pushed them down in a rush and gripped his cock the moment it was free, stroking himself in firm motions. He took no time to build himself, he didn’t need to, not after watching Mastress Morrison and Gerard. 

With one hand on his cock, he brought his free hand up to his mouth. He sucked his index finger against his tongue and coated it with saliva. He bent one leg up and circled his finger around his hole, closing his eyes as he imagined the slick digit was Mastress Morrison’s wet tongue. 

Frank had never had someone’s mouth there before. He couldn’t begin to imagine what it might feel like for someone to place open mouth kisses around his hole. The thought of Mastress Morrison’s face between his legs, their tongue buried between his cheeks, wet and hot, was enough to hurl Frank into an unexpected and woefully untimely orgasm. He was sure he’d never come so quickly in his life, and had he not have been on his own, he might have felt embarrassed.

When the first rope of ejaculate landed on his stomach, he pushed his finger into his hole without forethought, not stopping until his knuckle prevented him from moving any deeper. He hadn’t breached himself since he had been with his ex lover all those years ago, and the surprise of his own actions made his eyes fly open and his mouth fall agape. The sensation was unusual, slightly uncomfortable but unequivocally euphoric. He bent his finger at the knuckle and it inadvertently catapulted his climax to foreign heights; the pleasure soared through his body in a continuous, looping circuit. 

“O - oh, my…” Frank threw his head back, slowing his hand as he milked his orgasm. His own hand had never felt so good, and he felt more thankful than ever for his vivid imagination and perfect memory. If the mere thought of Mastress Morrison’s mouth could bring him to unwavering heights of pleasure, Lord only knew if he would survive actually having their hands on him. He was sure the act alone would make his heart stop and his lungs fall flat. 

Oh, but what a glorious way to perish it would be. 

When he had nothing left to give he slowly withdrew his finger from himself, wincing at the peculiar feeling. He slumped on the bed, his chest heaving as he chased his laboured breaths, and stared up at the ceiling in a dreamlike daze. He had every intention to stay in the position for some time, until a sharp knock on his door prematurely pulled him away from his post-climax comedown. 

“J - just a minute.” He called out, his voice strained. He leaned down and pulled on his breeches, cringing at the mess of semen on his shirt. With shaky arms he pulled the shirt over his head and discarded it to the side, hobbling his way over to the door. 

Frank opened his bedroom door to Gerard. His hair was no longer messy, but neatly coiffed into a low bun at the nape of his neck. His once flushed cheeks had return to their usual colour, pale as a doll, and he was dressed in his usual attire - a baggy khaki shirt and black breeches. Clearly, he was somewhat of an expect at resuming a polished appearance after being bedded. If Frank hadn’t watched him fornicate only moments ago, he might have assumed Gerard had simply returned form an innocent and plain activity such as reading or writing, or painting the manor’s landscape as he often did. 

“I - Gerard, is everything alright?” Frank asked. He knew that didn’t look nearly as put-together as Gerard. His chest was bare, flushed from touching himself, and there was no doubt in his mind that his hair was askew and pointing in every angle from rolling around on his bed.

Gerard’s eyes openly trailed down Frank’s body, stopping at the waistband of his trousers. He cleared his throat and met Frank’s eyes once more, this time with a soft blush forming a stripe across the bridge of his nose and onto his cheeks. 

“Grant and I were about to relax in the sitting room, we wondered if you wanted to join us.” Gerard’s invite made Frank’s stomach swoop; it was so very sweet, and not at all what he deserved. 

Frank looked over to the free standing clock adjacent to his bed. “It’s only four P.M.” He said. “I’m still working.” 

Gerard smiled, shrugging. “Grant suggested you finish early. There isn’t much that needs doing around the manor, apart from the gardens, I suppose.” Gerard looked behind Frank and out to the window. “You’ll catch your death if you work outside in this weather.” 

Mastress Morrison would often refuse to allow Frank to work outside in dreary weather. They had discovered early on that Frank was prone to becoming sickly, often coming down with bouts of pneumonia and flu-like symptoms at even the slightest gust of cold wind. Earlier that day had been the first day in months that Mastress Morrison had allowed him to work outside, but that was only because they were unaware of his whereabouts. As Frank knew all too well, them and Gerard had been… preoccupied. 

“I’d love to.” Frank said at last. 

“I’ll leave to you get dressed, we’ll be downstairs.” 

Frank waited for Gerard to leave before he slipped on the closest shirt he could find and ran to his en suit bathroom. Just as he suspected, his hair was all over the place. Gerard must have thought he looked ever so scruffy, which was not the impression Frank wanted to make after pining so helplessly for the six long months. 

He turned on the faucet and splashed cool water over his face, then raked his hands through his hair to neaten it up. 

Downstairs, Mastress Morrison and Gerard were sat on the large sofa in the sitting room with the fire blazing. They both smiled up at Frank when he entered the room, and it made his heart race and his stomach flutter. Frank went to move to the lone armchair in the corner of the room, but Mastress Morrison patted the space between them and Gerard, beckoning for him to sit between them. 

The sitting room was Frank’s favourite room in the whole of the manor. It was small and cosy, with floor to ceiling bookshelves and an open hearth which was almost always burning in the colder months. The floor was made up of dark wooden boards, dressed in shaggy rugs, and there was always a fresh pot of tea steaming away on the coffee table. Mastress Morrison was mad for tea, and since working for them, Frank had too acquired a taste for English tealeaves. 

“It’s so nice of you to join us, Frank.” Mastress Morrison said. “Would you care for a brew?” 

“I’d love one.” 

Mastress Morrison smiled a poured a steaming cup of black tea into a delicate teacup. “Milk?” They asked, adding a small drop when Frank nodded. “There you are.” 

“Thank you, Mastress Morrison.” Frank took the cup from them and held it in both hands, blowing long streams into the liquid to cool it down.

Mastress Morrison tutted and rolled their eyes. “For the last time, it’s Grant.” They said. “You’re off the clock, enough of the formalities.” 

Frank smiled. His cheeks warmed as he hid his face behind the teacup, but it wasn’t the hot liquid that made him flush. Grant and Gerard looked as beautiful as they ever did. They were graced with intimidatingly good looks, and Frank often found himself feeling incredibly self-conscious when he was around them. 

“Frank, we wanted to talk to you.” Grant announced. There was a certain tone to their voice, a certain knowingness, Frank was certain of it. “In fact, we’ve been meaning to talk with you for quite some time.” 

Frank instantly became jittery. His cup shook in his hands and droplets of scolding tea splashed onto his leg, but he couldn’t move to put it down. His heart was pounding with such an intensity that he was certain Grant and Gerard would be able to hear it, or perhaps even see it as his pulse hammered under his neck. 

“I - of course, I - what would…” Frank shook his head and cleared his throat. His voice was croaky and thick, and it sounded as though he was speaking through a throat of tightly packed phlegm. “What about?” 

Grant leant forward on the sofa, clasping their hands together on top of their knees. “I think you know.” They said. 

Beside him, Gerard shuffled on the seat. His cheeks were flushed an impressive shade of claret, as if he was the one who was in trouble. Oh… perhaps it was Gerard who had been the one to catch Frank watching them. Of course, it would have only been natural for him to tell Grant, and maybe he now felt nervous for the incoming conflict. 

Frank’s heart broke at the sight. The last thing he wanted was for Gerard to feel anxious. It wasn’t his fault that Frank was such a pervert. 

Frank had always known the day would come when he was caught, but he had failed to prepare for how he would react to such a dreadfully humiliating arrest. He had always thought that he would deny all knowledge of the lovers, and perhaps bullshit a wildly outrageous excuse such as claiming he suffers from absent seizures or a dissociative disorder. Either would give him an alibi as to why he loitered in the upstairs corridors, staring blankly into the privacy Grant and Gerard’s bedroom, but neither one was believable and both were just as cowardly as the other. 

Now, seeing Gerard look so startled, he simply couldn’t forge a theatrical pretence. He had to take responsibility for his actions, and would willingly take on any consequential punishment that Grant and Gerard saw fit. 

“You saw me.” Frank said at last. His voice had lost all strength and dropped to nothing but a whisper, but it was loud enough for Grant and Gerard to hear, he was sure. It was a weak confession, but he wasn’t sure if he could find the strength to admit what he had done in any other way. 

“You saw us.” Gerard said softly. He looked at Frank with puppy dog eyes; wide and curious. Frank couldn’t read his expression, but he was almost certain now that he didn’t look nervous. 

“I - I - oh, god.” Tears began falling from Frank’s eyes before he could force a sentence together. “I - I’m so sorry, I -“

“Here, let me take this.” Grant said. They leaned towards him and took the teacup from Frank’s grip, and then, took his hands into theirs. It pained them to see their beloved Frank so upset; they loved the man with the same intensity they did Gerard, and before then, they had been under the impression that all three of them were on the same page. “Frank, we wanted you to to watch, we… I thought you knew.”

Grant could remember the first time Frank had watched them; the memory was as vivid as if it were yesterday. Frank had been employed for no more than a month at the time, and themselves and Gerard were making love in their bedroom, under the solid impression that Frank was in the bath; out of sight, and out of hearing distance. 

They saw Frank hovering behind the door, and of course, their first thought had been to cover Gerard’s body and close the bloody door. But then, through the thin crack between the hinges, they noticed that Frank was touching himself. Gerard had been ecstatic when Grant bent down and told him what was happening in a hushed whisper. In fact, they had never seen their lover come so hard. 

From then they would always leave their door ajar, and Gerard, who was a noisy little thing at the best of times, screamed even louder and clearer than before. Months went by and they continued their games; and it really had felt like a game, akin to role-play. Frank played the covert voyeur, who would pretend that neither Grant or Gerard knew that he was watching, and both Grant and Gerard would pretend they couldn’t see him. Except, clearly, Frank hadn’t been roleplaying at all.

“I was waiting for you to approach us, we both were.” Grant said, shaking their head. “Do you really think we would leave the door open if we didn’t want you to watch? For months now we’ve been waiting for you to join… I just assumed to preferred being on the other side of the door.” Grant laughed lightly; the thought seemed a ridiculous one now. 

“You… you wanted me to watch?” Frank’s couldn’t understand. His brain felt fried. The guilt that burdened him still lingered in his gut, but Grant was looking at him in a way that suggested he should feel anything but. “I don’t… I don’t understand.” 

“We didn’t just want you to watch,” Grant told him, sharing a private glance with Gerard over Frank’s shoulder, “we wanted you. Since the moment you stepped into the manor, I’m afraid to say, both Gerard and I have been completely besotted by you.” 

Frank looked at Grant as if they had grown two heads. He shook his head slowly and looked at Gerard, who less fidgety now but just as flushed. Oh. The realisation hit Frank like a rubber bullet. Gerard hadn’t been flushed because he was anxious, quite the opposite… as Frank knew, as he had seen so many times before, Gerard became flushed when he was aroused. 

He tried to speak, but he couldn’t lift his jaw off the floor for long enough for his lips to voice a word. Of all of the possible outcomes of the once dreaded conversation, he certainly hadn’t anticipated this being one of them. He was so unbelieving, in fact, that he was beginning to doubt his own sanity. Could it be possible that he suffered from a dissociative disorder after all? Or maladaptive daydreaming, perhaps. In any case, surely, surely, this could not be real. 

“Please tell us you feel the same.” Gerard said, hiding his nervousness behind a laugh. 

“I do.” Frank said, snapping out of his rumination in an instant. God, could Gerard even doubt it? It seemed laughable that he would have to question it. “Of course I do. I just… well, I never thought it was reciprocated. But you two… you’re a couple, I… I don’t see where I fit.” 

Despite dreaming of an uncountable amount of fantasies that involved him joining the lovers, he never considered how it would work, simply because he had never envisioned it becoming a reality. Was there really a space for him in their bed? Or in their hearts? Were Grant’s arms big enough to hold them both? 

Frank had a hundred and one questions, and he wanted to ask them all at once, but Gerard was rising from his seat with a predatory look, and all Frank could do was watch. 

“I’m sure there’s a lot we need to discuss, all of us, but…” Gerard stopped in front of Frank, smiling down at him in the same way he smiled at Grant. “I’ve been dying to kiss you since the moment I laid eyes on you… I’m not sure I can wait any longer.” 

Frank could do nothing but nod dumbly. A nagging voice in the back of his head told him that he should seek permission from Grant before he embraced their lover, but another voice, a quieter one, reminded him that he already had. 

There was a glimmer to Gerard’s eyes and a coy smirk, and he slowly lowered himself onto Frank’s lap. 

“O - oh.” Frank gasped, instinctively placing his hands by Gerard’s waist to steady him. 

“Can I?” Gerard whispered. He brought his hand up and trailed the pad of his thumb across Frank’s lower lip, then licked his own. “Can I kiss you?” 

Frank gazed up at Gerard and nodded once more. He tilted his head up and at the same time Gerard lowered his, and they both sighed when they shared a kiss at last. Frank felt as though lightning had struck him at the first press of lips; it was everything and more than what he could have possibly imagined. 

Gerard’s lips were as soft as flower petals, and moved in a way that made his skin tingle in hot fuzzes. He wrapped his hand across the lower of Gerard’s back and kept the other firmly placed on his hip. Gerard’s arms found their way around Frank’s neck, pulling him in closer. Their tongues danced against one another’s, and Frank felt dizzy knowing Gerard’s tongue had been entwined with Grant’s so many times before. 

Grant settled into the sofa with a smile, leaning against the armrest as they watched the two embrace one another. To watch their lover kiss Frank felt like an honour of sorts, and Grant could only hope that by the end of the night, they were able to call Frank their lover, too. 

“Did you touch yourself?” Gerard rasped, moving his lips to Frank’s neck. He slid his hand between their bodies and cupped Frank’s crotch, delighted at how unbelievably hard Frank already was. “After you watched us, would you touch yourself? Would you think about us, about this?” 

“O - oh, God.” Frank moaned, rolling his hips into the warmth of Gerard’s palm. “Y - yes.” He gasped. After all of the time he had spent pining in his room and in the corridors, he couldn’t believe that Gerard had seemingly been just as hungry as him. “Every time. Thought of you… thought of both of you.” 

Gerard grinned against Frank’s neck and slid off his lap to sink to his knees on the floor. “Tell me, what did you think about?” He unbuckled Frank’s breeches and pulled his cock free. He was already leaking, and ribbons of swollen veins were bulging beneath his skin like flower stems; it was beautiful, and Gerard just had to get his mouth on him. “Did you think about this?” 

Frank’s breath was lost somewhere in the pits of his lungs and he threw his had back on the sofa, covering his eyes with his forearm. “Oh my god.” He breathed. “This isn’t real.” 

Gerard pressed his face into Frank’s thigh and giggled. He brought his hand to Frank’s cock and stroked him slowly from root to tip, mesmerised by the shiny pearls of pre-ejaculate that glazed his head. He looked up to Grant and bit his lower lip, waiting for them to nod. 

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” Grant’s eyes were fixed on Frank’s cock. They reached towards Gerard and tucked a fallen strand of hair behind his ear, smiling fondly at their lover. “Taste him, show him what he’s been missing.” 

Gerard hummed and nosed around Frank’s cock, mouthing around the base of his erection. Frank’s scent was heady and addictive, and Gerard could easily detect the musky smell of ejaculate. “You touched yourself today, didn’t you?” Gerard was delighted at the thought. He had suspected that Frank had retreated to his room to touch himself after watching him and Grant, but being able to smell the evidence drove him crazy. “You did… I know you did. Just before I came into your room, hm? I wonder if I can make you come again…” 

There was absolutely no doubt in Frank’s mind that Gerard could make him come a second time. If he so wanted to, he was sure the gorgeous man could make him come a third and a fourth time. His heart raced and his stomach flipped sideways knowing Gerard could smell him, that he could detect the ghost of his climax. It was thrilling. 

When Gerard enclosed his mouth around him, Frank felt as though he had died and gone to heaven. He suckled around his tip and then engulfed his length entirely, all the way to his base and back again. He was a marvel. His mouth, Frank was sure, was magical; warm and hot and indescribable. 

“Stunning…” Grant moaned at the sight of them, they felt as though they could come undone just from watching the two; they were sure that they could have, if they hadn’t already reached a climax not long before. “You two are just stunning… How does he taste, sweetheart?” 

Gerard hummed around Frank’s length and buried his face deeper into his lap, until his nose was pressed against his dark curls of pubic hair. He relished in every moan and grunt that Frank emitted, and each one went straight to his cock.

Frank was in ecstasy. After watching Grant and Gerard so many times before, he had only ever seen Gerard in positions of submission. It was clear to him that he was still being lead by Grant, if not by their words then by their quiet guidance, but he was certainly taking a more assertive role where Frank was concerned. He wondered, perhaps conceitedly, if Frank was his golden ticket; an opportunity for him to take more control, control that Frank was more than happy to give him. 

He arched his back and brought his hand down to grip the sofa, but instead found Grant’s thigh. He squeezed their leg as his own twitched, and clenched his eyes shut in a bid to hold off his impending climax. Gerard was bringing him closer and closer with laughable ease; anyone would have thought that Frank hadn’t come only minutes before. 

“G - Gerard, I… I can’t, I’m going to - oh, god… you have to… you have to move.” With his free hand, Frank tried to tug Gerard off him by the nape of his hair, but Gerard just huffed and sank further down into his lap. It was all that Frank could take. 

His climax swamped him with unparalleled force, it was as though every fibre in his body had been tightened and tweaked, setting his every nerve alight. Gerard moaned and swallowed Frank’s seed gratefully. 

Before Frank could gain any sort of clarity, Gerard was pulling his lips away from his cock and removing his shoes; then his socks and breeches, followed by his undergarments. Frank was certain they were moving backwards in time. Wasn’t he supposed to get undressed before having sex, and not after? He began to question his earlier confidence that Gerard could make him come more than once. As it were, he was certain he would never come again.

Grant pushed Frank down onto the sofa so that he was lying on his back. They covered his body with their own, and did exactly what they had been aching to do for half a year - kiss him. Gerard politely sat back on his heels as he watched Grant and Frank embrace. Grant’s arm disappeared  between their bodies, and Gerard’s pulse quickened knowing what was to come. 

“Can I?” Grant asked, circling their finger around Frank’s hole. 

Frank nodded, laughing in a breathy tone. “You can do whatever you want to me.” He said. “Just don’t expect me to come again. I think Gerard broke me.” 

Grant smiled against Frank’s neck. They enjoyed both the sound of Frank’s promise and the challenge he proposed. They brought their finger up to their mouth and coated it in saliva, before trailing it back down between Frank’s thighs. 

Frank hissed when Grant breached him. Despite how sensitive he was, it felt incredible to be breached by someone again; even if it was just a single finger. 

“Sit up for me, darling.” Grant told him, patting his thigh. “On all fours, that’s it.” They helped steady Frank onto his legs, smiling fondly at how easily the man had followed their instruction. The second Frank was on all fours, Gerard rose to his feet and sat beside his head. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he love?” They said, talking to Gerard now. 

Frank’s breath caught in his throat. To hear Grant talk of him so sweetly sent him dizzy, and to hear them talk about him, rather than to him, despite him sitting right there, made his waning erection come alive once more. 

Grant leant over to the coffee table and opened the top drawer. In it, was an array of small viles of oils from various plants and fruits. They made sure to keep a stack of oils in every room of the manor, though somewhat hidden, of course. Gerard had a sexual appetite like no other, so it was only natural that they both made it so that they could make love in any room they wish. 

They coated two digits in oil and pushed them into Frank without hesitation, sighing at how his back arched. “How’s that?” They asked. 

“S’good… It’s, oh… it’s good.” Frank panted. Grant found his prostate easily; Frank imagined it was still swollen and enlarged from his climax. God, how could he have forgotten how wonderful those sensitive bundle of nerves felt? “Oh, it’s really good…” 

On all fours, Grant was able to reach and manipulate his prostate freely; it was all too much and not enough at once, and all Frank could think of was how much he wanted them to make love to him.

In front of him, Gerard was shifting on the sofa. His erection was straining under his breeches, creating a pitched tent that Frank couldn’t take his eyes of. “I want it.” Frank gasped, rocking his body into Grant’s fingers as he stretched him. “Want to taste you. Oh, please Gerard, can I? Can I taste you?” 

Gerard blinked slowly and shook his head in disbelief. Never in his life had someone begged to suck him before, and it sent a wild surge of power through his very core. “Yes.” He rasped, pushing his breeches down to his ankles. His cock was pointing towards his tummy, rock hard and leaking. “Yes, of course you can. Suck me, Frank, taste me, you - oh…”

Frank sunk down onto Gerard’s cock without a beat of hesitation; swallowing his length all the way to the back of his throat. God, he had missed it. He bobbed his head up and down, spending no time in building Gerard up. He moaned when Gerard’s hand came to grip the back of his hair, tugging at his locks. His moans were heavenly, and Frank was delighted to find that the pleasured noises sounded the same as when he made love to Grant. 

“Beautiful.” Grant whispered from behind them. They noticed fairly quickly that Frank was bobbing his head in time with their fingers, and in turn, quickened their own pace. Frank matched the change in tempo, sinking down into Gerard’s lap with vigour. 

They poured more oil over their knuckles and added a third finger. Frank opened easily for them, as if he was made for it. 

“Grant…” Frank moved away from Gerard’s cock long enough to speak. He continued to rock against Grant’s fingers, forcing their digits deeper inside of him. “Please, please make love to me. Oh, I need it. I need you, need you to take me.” 

Grant’s breath hitched in their throat and their fingers stilled inside of Frank. “Are you sure?” They asked. 

“God yes.” Frank gasped. 

Grant moaned and reached over Frank’s body to push his head back into Gerard’s lap. Frank went easily, hungrily swallowing Gerard’s cock once more. 

When Grant was sure Frank had been thoroughly prepped, he poured oil directly onto his hole and pushed into him. They didn’t stop until their hips were firmly planted to Frank’s skin, and enjoyed the warmth of his body for a few moments before moving their hips. 

Frank had never felt so full. With Grant taking him from behind, and Gerard filling his mouth, he felt as though he might explode. Surprisingly, there was a sensation bubbling inside of him that was more imposing and enchanting than the sexual pleasure he felt - love. He felt it as sure and as solid as if it were a tangible thing. He had two of the most perfect people in the world on either side of him, engulfing and owning his body in a way he could have only dreamed of before now. 

He had always thought that love was a quiet emotion; something that silently simmered under the skin and swam peacefully in one’s soul. He found the opposite to be true. It was blaring and uninhibited, souring through his veins like herd of wild horses. 

He knew in that moment that he could never and would never be close enough to Grant or Gerard. The burning passion he had for them both couldn’t be contained or restricted to the walls of his skin; or theirs. He wanted them in every way he could have them, and wished there was a way they could be closer, even closer than they were than now; connected in a love-train. 

With that thought, he sunk his head down deeper onto Gerard’s cock, as deep as he could go until his tip pressed against the back of his throat and slipped down his gullet, causing him to choke. Funnily enough, asphyxiation was Frank’s biggest fear; he always thought there was no worst way to go than not being able to breath. That was, until now. If Gerard’s cock blocked his air and his seed drowned the depths of his lungs, suffocating him from the inside out, then so be it. 

“C - close.” Gerard choked out, gripping Frank’s hair tightly. “God, you feel… you feel incredible.” 

Frank hummed and tightened his cheeks around Gerard’s length. He clenched his walls around Grant; he could feel the way they were twitching, and he could hear their laboured breaths and broken moans. He was certain that they were also close to their climax, and wondered if their toes were curling the way they always did. 

Only seconds after, Frank found himself being filled in an entirely different way. Both Grant and Gerard spilled their seed into him in synchronisation, and he was convinced in that moment that the two were bound in way that was unearthly, not by their bodies but by their souls. 

Frank swallowed Gerard’s seed as if it were sweetened honey, and when Grant pulled away from him, his legs gave way. He collapsed onto his stomach with his head planted in Gerard’s lap, and closed his eyes as he breathed in his scent. 

Grant watched them both with a smile on their face, their heart pounding inside of their chest. They reached over and stroked their hand on the small of Frank’s back, grinning at Gerard when his hand joined theirs. 

They watched dreamily as Frank’s eyes fluttered shut. His breaths became heavy, and soon enough, soft snores were falling from his parted lips. 

“I love you.” They whispered to Gerard, rubbing their fingers over his. “Both of you.” 

Gerard smiled, exhausted and spent. He lolled his head to one side and fluttered his eyelashes at Grant. 

“I love you too.” 

There was no doubt in Grant’s mind that fate brought Frank to their door. Their love would always have to stay behind the manor’s walls. They couldn’t marry, and they certainly couldn’t display their affection for one another outside of the gated building, but they didn’t mind. They understood each other, they loved each other, and that would always be enough.