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It was a Wednesday evening, also known as Little Saturday at precinct 41, at pub and grill L'appel du vide – a favourite haunt for off-duty RCM officers with its cheap but strong beer and large portions. A steel magnate whose kid had been the subject of a kidnapping case had, at getting his child back in one piece, made a substantial donation to the precinct, and captain Pryce had insisted on dinner to celebrate. The rest of the squad left an hour ago. Harry really hadn’t planned on staying this late, but as soon as he noticed that Jean was getting really tipsy, some old, ingrained script had begun to unfold from the scabbed-over recesses of his mind; The Litany of Drinking with Jean, like a Volta do Mar all their own. It was somehow strangely comforting and uncomfortable at the same time. Two men, sitting like this so many times before, every time another step on the road to forgetting the entire journey. Mostly it had been Jean looking after Harry, but the opposite had been true more than once, if the fragmented memories and stories he heard were correct.Harry concentrated on his orange juice and on surreptitiously pushing glasses of water in front of Jean. It was as hard as ever ignoring the other glasses and bottles on the table, the amber liquid inside them, the scent and feel of them in his hand, calling to him to join Jean in intoxication and recite the Litany together. Does it ever get any easier? I really shouldn’t have done this. It was a bad idea to begin with. He doodled a little Insulindian phasmid on a beer napkin while listening with half an ear to Jean talking. Something about the music in the bar. Dr Walevka is going to tell me off for it on Monday, I just know it. He gave the cartoony stick insect a sad smile, then felt bad about it and changed it to a happy one. It was a happy insect. Made other people happy too. He gave the phasmid a top hat as compensation for making it sad. Hey, give sad people hats. That always works.“How’d you even do that?” Jean’s slurred voice broke into his reverie. “Like how dossit even fit?”Harry looked up, drawn from his contemplation of the past. “Huh? How does what fit?”“The whole you,” Jean said and waved his hands. “Arms and chest and belly and legs and all that. All those muscles. How do you fit it in those clothes?” He leaned his chin on his hands, looking confused and impressed at the same time.Harry’s cheeks grew hot under Jean’s searching, if somewhat unfocused, gaze. A year of sobriety as well as getting back to training and eating healthy had had him put on a bit of weight, both in muscle and fat, and sure, things were getting a bit tight. Problem was, money was pretty tight too, and it wasn’t like he could change his whole wardrobe on a whim. It didn’t really matter, though – Jean was already on the wrong side of several pints of beer and at least two shots of mid-tier vodka; it wasn’t like he was open to a logical discussion on whatever topic his brain had decided to spit up and react to. Harry decided on brushing it off with a joke.“I should go shopping, huh?” He gently pulled the glass away from Jean. “And you really should cut back on that.”Jean looked affronted and pointed two angry fingers at him. “Thass… thass stupid,” he muttered. “Don’t you tell me what to do, Harry, busy being a pot to call black kettle.”“What?”Jean’s mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried to sort out the sentence. Finally, he closed one eye and tried to focus in Harry’s general direction. “‘M just sayin’. ‘M just sayin’, you shouldn’t talk.”Harry sighed. “Yeah, no, you’re probably right about that. But right now, as in this moment, you, personally, should stop drinking. Come on, Vic. Time to go home.” He stood up and took Jean under one arm, pulling him up.Jean’s head bobbed up and down, a bit unsteady on his shoulders. “‘Kay. Yeah, ‘kay. ‘S a good idea. Sorry,” he added, suddenly remorseful. “I shouldn’tave done that. Shouldn’tave drunk when you’re re re raund. Sorry. I’m an asshole.”He reached over to pat Harry’s shoulder and missed by a decimetre, vaulting across Harry’s chest for a surprise meeting with the floor. Instinctively, Harry reached out and caught him. “Hup! I got you, I got you. It’s okay, I-”Suddenly, Jean reached up, grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Harry froze. Jean’s body was warm against his, all hard edges and drunken desperation; fingers burrowed into Harry’s neck, tight as a vice. The sounds of the pub all faded into the background, nothing but noise and distraction from the teeth scraping against his lips, tongue against tongue, hot breath and alcohol fumes in this throat. Then the pressure disappeared, and Harry was staring into Jean’s slate-grey eyes.He swallowed. “Uh. Hello?”Jean gave him a wide, satisfied smile and patted his chest, stroking it, feeling Harry’s tits through the shirt. “Yeah. Yeah. Hey, shitkid.” Then he frowned and pushed Harry away. “No! Nononono. Not doing that again. Notatall.”“Um… again?” Harry’s mind was in complete uproar. What was that? Jean KISSED me. JEAN kissed me. Jean kissed ME?“No no nono no.” Jean waved his finger unsteadily. “Not again. I don’ care if you’re nice now. I don’ care if you look soooo good. Not gonna do that again.”“I look…? Okay, that’s it. I’m getting you home.”With his head spinning, confusion dampening most of his rational thoughts, Harry took Jean under one arm again, trying to ignore the feel of the toned body against his side. Luckily, Jean didn’t live that far off, and Harry was able to frogmarch him there and pour him into bed without stumbling more than once. Working mostly on muscle memory, he took Jean’s shoes off, put a bucket by the side of the bed and a glass of water and two headache pills on the side table – the litany drawn to its inevitable conclusion. How many times did he do this for me? More times than I did it for him. Too many.When he was done, he sat down beside Jean and hesitated a bit, then patted his back awkwardly. Where the hell do you put your hands on a treasured colleague that kissed you passionately twenty minutes ago?“You gonna be okay?”Jean mumbled something into the pillow, then grunted, turned over and started snoring. Harry stared at him. Okay, but what the HELL was all that about? I look good? Kissing me, what the fuck? He pushed down the fierce need to pull Jean up and shake him until the answers fell out of him. Instead, he gave him another awkward pat and left.It wasn’t until the front door clicked shut behind him that he realised. Ooooh, shit. Oh shit, did I… did I cheat, just now? Was this cheating, him kissing me? He clutched his head, panicking. I can’t remember cheating, but maybe I did? Did I cheat on Dora with Jean, is that what this is? Maybe I’m a serial cheater!The thoughts rolled over and over in his head all the way home, filling him with dread. The chill night air and light drizzle did nothing to clear his head, and he kept going on autopilot opening the door, going up the stairs, taking his shoes off. Kim turned over when Harry sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked so handsome in the low light, the dusk softening his edges, fuzzy, sleepy, that it made Harry’s lungs ache. Kim gave him a sleepy smile.“Oh, you’re back. Did you two have fun?”“Uh. Um.” Harry tried to say something, but the anxiety sat like a lump of ice in his throat, making it hard to even breathe.Kim sat up, frowning. “Harry? Is everything okay?” He took out his glasses and put them on. “What’s wrong, did something happen?”Harry squirmed. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to answer. “Jean... kissed me.”Silence. Then, Kim cleared his throat. “Ah. Khm. I see,” he said archly. His face had gone carefully blank, devoid of any emotion. Somehow it was so much worse than if he’d started to scream.Harry couldn’t take the sudden silence, had to fill it with words. “Kim, I’m so sorry! I never meant to be unfaithful to you, but it happened so quickly, and I didn’t know what to do, and it felt really nice-”“Harry! Calm down.” Kim got up and sat beside Harry on the edge of the bed. “Walk me through this a bit more calmly. After I left…?”Harry tried to calm down, pushed his hands against his temples to refocus the racing thoughts. “Ah, yeah, we… after you left, he drank a lot more. Got pretty plastered. Um, I, uh, I think he was checking me out? And when we stood up, he stumbled, and I caught him. And then he kissed me.” He blushed at the memory. “It was really nice,” he repeated. “And, um. And it felt really… familiar.”Kim pulled one leg up and leaned his chin on it. “Okay. Thank you.” He glanced sidelong at Harry. “It felt familiar? Do you think he and you…”Harry took a deep breath. “I’m pretty sure, yeah. Yeah. After we stopped, he said ‘not doing that again’.”“Hm.”“Hm?”Kim shrugged, arms wrapped around his leg. “I’m not surprised, that’s all. The two of you have always had… kind of an ex vibe. Or at least Jean did.”An ex vibe? Harry tried to make sense of it, tried to sort out how much of Jean’s ornery behaviour had the flavour of ‘jilted lover’ and how much was just his normal, depressive personality. It made his head spin. If we were lovers before Martinaise, have I been just… ignoring him this whole time? Oh no. Have I been cheating on Jean with Kim, now? Oh god, I AM a serial cheater! He took a deep breath, trying not to spiral again. Okay. Okay. Focus. Focus on Kim. He tried to make sense of Kim’s expression: there was none of the quiet fury that only rarely lurked behind his eyes, none of the gleeful malice that bubbled up when he could get one over on a proper bastard. Instead, he looked almost like he did when he had made a mistake and was reprimanded by a superior, something that had only happened twice in the time Harry had known him; one of those times it had been Harry’s fault in any case. “So you’re not… angry?”“I’m not angry. I’m… a little…” Kim tapped his fingers on his knee and looked up at the ceiling. “Jealous,” he said, finally. “I’m a little jealous. I didn’t realise I would be.”“I really, really didn’t mean to cheat, Kim, I’m sorry-”Kim frowned. “Why are you apologising? Jean kissed you, not the other way around.”“Yeah, but… I liked it.” I liked it a LOT.Kim lowered his leg and fixed Harry with a serious stare. “Let me be absolutely clear here: I don’t consider this to be cheating. You didn’t go behind my back, you haven’t broken my trust. I’m jealous, yes, but that’s on me.” He adjusted his glasses; again, with that self-lambasting look.He considers it to be a personal failure that he is. Harry nodded, relieved, then reached over and stroked Kim’s cheek. “I’d be jealous too. I’m not sure I’d be this graceful. You’re too good for me, Kim.”“I am not. I am a very flawed person.” He leaned his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Promise me one thing though.”“Anything.”“Talk to Jean about this.”Harry groaned. “Do I have to? He’s not going to like it. At all.”“Well, you’re just going to have to suck it up, Harrier, because if you don’t, I’m going to have the most uncomfortable working environment possible for the next few years. Talk to him.” He raised one eyebrow, stone-faced.Harry gave up immediately. “Fine.” Harry tried to talk to Jean several times the next day, but he only growled and made excuses, or just straight up turned and went the other way when they met in the corridor. Finally, Harry managed to corner him down in the stables. At the moment, there were only two horses there: Pryce’s piebald gelding, and a chestnut pony that patrol officer Mollins confiscated the week before from a very confusing case involving counterfeit FALN clothes and steroids smuggled inside sports gear. Nobody knew what the horse had to do with anything, but since Jean was the only one with equestrian experience except for the captain, Mollins had happily dumped the horse (metaphorically) along with the case (literally) on Jean’s desk. He’d thrown a wobbly, logged it as evidence, and then spent the rest of the day making the poor beast as comfortable as possible.Jean had just finished rubbing it down and was cleaning a bridle when Harry approached. Seeing him, Jean groaned and rubbed even harder at the leather, trying his best to ignore him. Harry leaned against the box door and cleared his throat awkwardly; puzzled by the noise, the horse nuzzled his ear and then tried to chew on his hair. He absently reached up a hand to pat it.“Have you named it?”“What?” Jean scoffed. “We’re not naming the horse, Harry, it’s evidence.”“You did, though. You named it, right?”“Okay, it’s named Nona,” Jean replied irritably. “Short for non-a-your-business. What the hell do you want, Harry?Harry pushed the inquisitive muzzle away from his lapels. “Uhm. About yesterday…”Jean glared at him. “We are not talking about yesterday.”“We really ought to, though,” Harry replied with an apologetic little gesture and scratched the horse behind the ear.Jean’s hands tightened on the bridle, squeezing it into a jingling ball. “We are not talking about yesterday because nothing at all happened yesterday, all right?”“It did, though.”“God, why are you- hggggnnn!”Jean threw the bridle away and stomped out, Harry scrambling to keep up, then stopped just outside the stable doors. The rain was coming down in sheets, drumming against the awning and gurgling in the gutters; the street was deserted, every smart person having retreated inside to avoid the deluge. Jean huffed, seemingly resigned to either face Harry’s questions or get drenched, and leaned against the brick wall, arms tightly crossed over his chest. Harry leaned against the wall beside Jean, their shoulders almost touching.“Come on, Vic. Has that happened before? Have you and I… um.” He trailed off and rubbed the back of his head.Jean groaned. “God fucking damnit, shitkid. Why can’t you let sleeping dogs lie?”Harry made a defeated shrug. Part of it was that irrepressible need to pry and poke, to get to the bottom of things, to worry at the fraying edges of things until they unravelled; part of it was wanting to know his past; and part of it was the heat of Jean’s mouth against his, and the tantalising prospect of what it meant, had meant before. He gestured vaguely, trying to encompass the whole wretched notion.“It’s just. You know.”Jean pinched his brow. “Fine. Fine. Have you and I kissed before? Hm? That’s what you’re asking? Yeah. Yeah, we have.” He turned to Harry and glared at him. “And before you ask – we fucked, Harry. In fact, we fucked a lot. Okay? Are you happy now, super sleuth? Does that answer your question?”“Um.” We did? We fucked. You and I. Jean and me, we did that. A drop of water fell on his head, and Harry realised he was staring, slack-jawed, at Jean. He closed his mouth with an enormous effort of will. “God, Harry,” Jean growled. “Why don’t you remember these things?”Harry shrugged. “I dunno, sometimes I think it’s… my brain gives me these worthless little pieces but avoids all the important stuff. Because the important stuff is what hurt the most. So it avoids that.” He looked away, hands pushed deep into his pockets, hunched over, making himself small. “I pretty much realise I was an awesomely shitty person, Vic. I think I maybe don’t want to remember that. But then I lose other stuff too.” Harry gave him an apologetic grin. “Like you, apparently.”“God, I need a drink,” Jean muttered. “I cannot have this conversation sober.”“I know the feeling.” Harry glanced at him. “Is that, uh, how it usually was?”Jean took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. “Yeah. Most of the time. We got wasted, and then…” He groaned and leaned his head back against the bricks. “No. Shit, Harry, I- this is just too fucking embarrassing, okay?”“Okay.” Harry watched him inhale. “Can we talk about it some other time, though?”Jean choked on the cigarette, coughing until his eyes watered. Harry had to slap his back to get the smoke out. Finally, Jean drew a deep breath. “You’re fucking relentless, you know that?” He wiped his eyes. “You just clamp down and hang on. Motherfucker!”“Sorry.”Jean waved him away. “No, fuck, I didn’t- forget it. Give me a second, okay? Tonight. Let’s talk tonight. At a, I dunno, at a fucking café or something.”“Okay.”Jean muttered something, then pulled his shoulders up and ducked into the rain, taking long-legged strides towards the main doors as he tried to avoid the worst of the puddles. Harry watched him leave, stomach alive with nervous butterflies. The day passed in a blur. Harry had problem concentrating, stared out into space, leg bouncing as he played through the events of today and yesterday over and over again. He caught Kim watching him several times with an amused expression on his face. Finally, Jean came over and wordlessly jerked his head towards the doors. Harry gave Kim a quick kiss and headed after him.Jean ducked into a little café a few blocks from the precinct, shaking the rain from his patrol cloak. The place was pretty deserted at this hour, but they took the most remote booth anyway. Harry ordered two small coffees and pushed one over to Jean.“Soooo…” Harry tried to give him a casual smile, fighting the muscles that felt like this was the perfect time for making The Expression. “Vic. Ehrm. You said that, uhm.” He fell silent, completely lost for any words that could pass for useful in a situation like this.Jean rolled his eyes. “I cannot believe I’m doing this. Feels like giving a kid the goddamn Talk, for fuck’s sake.”Hey, that’s unfair. Harry frowned. “Hey, you kissed me, remember? I didn’t start this.”Jean bristled and leaned forward. “The fuck you didn’t, you came onto me!” he hissed.“What, no, you-”“Not yesterday, I mean, from the beginning!”Harry’s eyebrows shot up. I did? “I did?”Jean slumped back in the booth and glared at him, then took the coffee and slammed it back. “God I wish this was something stronger.”“I’m pretty glad it isn’t. Yesterday was bad enough.” Harry toyed with his spoon. When Jean didn’t continue, he nudged gently. “You wanna tell me?”Jean sighed and put the cup down. He looked around, making sure that nobody was listening. Harry could see a blush rising up his neck as he leaned back, pressed into the back of the booth.“Fine. We’d been working together for a few months. We were celebrating bagging a case, some nasty shit with a dog fighting ring. So we did what we always did, we got shitfaced.” He drummed his fingers on the table, then went on. “You did that thing you do. That smug fucking grin of yours. And I was drunk, and you looked good, and it was a godawful idea but we did it anyway.”Harry swallowed. “What, um, what did we…”Jean slumped down even deeper in the leather upholstery, his face bright red now. “You sucked my dick.”Harry coughed. “Oh. Okay. Yeah. I, uh. I hope I was good.”Jean dragged his hand over his face and mumbled something.“I, um, I didn’t hear-”Jean took his hand away with a frustrated noise. “You were pretty fucking good, okay? Regular dick-sucking pro. Like you’d done it before.”“I get the idea that I probably have. Had. Did.” Harry cleared his throat. “So. Okay. That’s how it started?”“Yeah.”“And then…?”“Shit, Harry.” Jean ran his hands through his hair. “Then we, just, I dunno, we kept hooking up! Like on the sly. Got drunk in each other’s flats, you know? Ended up in each other’s beds. And sofas. And showers.”Harry stirred his rapidly cooling coffee, trying to stay composed. The novel idea of fucking Jean on every available surface of his flat burrowed its way into his imagination and sent all sorts of signals through the electrochemical pathways of his body. It stirred something else as well; a profound sense of gloom and melancholy, paired with the burning taste of alcohol, far back on his tongue. He looked up at Jean.“Were we… happy with that?”Jean grimaced and looked away. “No. We were never happy, Harry. How the hell could we? It’s you and me, for fuck’s sake, we don’t do happy. We weren’t good for each other, in the end.” He hesitated. “But the fucking wasn’t the bad bit. Just the other things. But drinking probably made it a bit more stupid.” He scoffed and poked at his coffee cup, making it jingle. “No, strike that. The drinking absolutely made it much more stupid.”Harry frowned. “How do you mean?”“We tried a lot of stupid things, okay? Some of them were pretty fucking dangerous.”Half remembered urges, weird impulses, contrarian, mixed-up feelings… an almost irrepressible need to let go and self-destruct in the most explosive, indulgent, gratifying way possible. Harry suddenly got the feeling of something tightening around his throat, and he absentmindedly rubbed it. Jean followed the movement of his hand, then looked away and dragged his hand across his forehead.“Yeah, you liked that. You liked that one a lot.”“Yeah, I… I have some memories of that.” Extremely embarrassing memories. Harry rubbed his neck again, his own cheeks burning. He wasn’t about to tell Jean that he learned that he liked being choked from talking to his own necktie.“You do?” Jean looked mortified.“Not you, specifically, just… that. Doing that.” Harry cleared his throat again. “Liking that.”“So, what. You don’t anymore?” There was a strange note of anticipation, or perhaps disappointment, in Jean’s voice.Oh, I do. I really do. Harry pushed the insistent thought down. Instead, he shrugged and laughed uncomfortably. “I… don’t know? I haven’t, I mean, it’s not. Um. It’s been a while. I think.”“Yeah. No, I get it.”Jean rubbed his hand on his thigh absentmindedly. Harry stared at it. The longer he talked to Jean, the more things came back – and here was another, a familiar thing, something he instinctively knew he’d seen a hundred times before. A tell, something he felt like he knew what it meant. Anticipation… desire.“Did you… like doing that? Um. To me?”This time Jean actually folded up from embarrassment and hit his head on the table, and lay like that for a solid minute before mumbling into the coffee-stained wood.“Yes.”The memory – and it was a clear memory this time, not a feeling – of Jean pushing him up against a wall, one hand around his throat and the other on his crotch, surfaced in Harry’s mind, and his trousers suddenly felt one size too small.“Mhm. Mhm. Cool. Wow. Disco.” He breathed out through his nose. Get it together, Harrier. “So what now?”Jean looked up from the table. “What do you mean, what now?”“What do we do now?”Jean stabbed his finger into the tabletop. “We forget this conversation ever happened and go on with our lives.”Harry laughed. “Come on, Vic, how do you forget something like this happened?” He realised what he was saying even as the words left his mouth, snapping it shut as if he could force them back.Jean sighed. “Pretty easily, it seems.”Harry cringed. Harsh. But entirely fair.Jean rubbed his eyes. “No, no. That was… fuck, Harry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. But you really should try to forget this. I’ve been doing my best already, believe me.” He stood up and pulled his cloak on, not looking at Harry. “See you tomorrow.”Harry watched him leave dejectedly. Well. You got some answers. For all the good it did. A few weeks passed, and Harry utterly failed at forgetting anything about the kiss or the ensuing conversation. In fact, not trying to think about it just made it worse; he started to obsess over it instead, over the images it had brought, the half-remembered feelings and new insights. He turned them over and over in his mind, pieces of a puzzle without instructions or edge pieces. Trying to interact with Jean on a day-to-day basis now was just as embarrassing and uncomfortable as Kim had feared. The tension rose and rose, having no way to ground itself; Harry got more and more downcast, and Jean got angrier. It got the whole squad down, and since nobody else knew what it was really about, it was just confusing for all involved. One night, after a particularly bad day, Harry complained loudly to Kim about it, having no other outlet.“Kiiiim! I don’t know what to do! I can’t stop thinking about the thing with Jean.”Kim put the magazine he was reading away and sighed. “That’s apparent. This has turned into another mind project for you, hasn’t it? A big one.” He scooted up and leaned against the headboard. “There is a lot of unresolved tension between you and Jean, and I’d like nothing more than you solving that somehow. For the precinct, if nothing else. You’ve come a long way, but…” He gestured vaguely.“Yeah. I always kind of felt there was something he didn’t tell me.”I didn’t expect it to be THIS, though. Harry picked at the covers haplessly, unsure what to do. Before is mind could start knotting itself into the same tangles again, however, Kim did a little cough. Harry looked over at him – he had a strange expression on his face, like mingled nervousness and anticipation.“What?”Kim pressed his lips together, then exhaled. “Okay. So. I… I have been thinking about it too. And I feel like… maybe there’s only one way to resolve this.” Kim cleared his throat again. His ears were starting to go a light shade of pink. “Perhaps you two ought to handle this physically.”Physically? Harry’s eyes widened. “You mean… you think Jean and I should…? But. We’re together. You and I.”“I don’t own you. And this is… this is part of your past. Something that you need to reclaim, maybe?” He stroked Harry’s shoulder, then grimaced. “But. I also love you very much, and I don’t want to lose you. So if you wanted to do this, I’d like to be part of it.”Several parts of Harry piped up at once. Oh my GOD. He’d do that? He’d let me do that? Wait. He wants to be part of it? Why? For me? Or… Harry sat up and looked Kim over, noticed his blush, the way his eyes darted to the corner of the room, roaming around like they did when he tried to fight a wave of embarrassment. Harry tilted his head to the side.“There’s something more to this.”Kim gave him a warning look. “Harry…”“Yeah, I know. Can it with the can-opening. Buuuut…?”Kim’s ears became a deeper shade of pink. “You’ve been thinking,” he said and did little gestures with his hands like he was stacking arguments on top of each other. “And, I must admit that. Ah. I have been thinking as well.” Another argument box. “It’s been… very interesting for me to imagine you and Jean together. As well as, ah.” Another box. “Me and Jean.”Harry breathed out. Now THAT image is going to be burned into my brain for the next week, too. “Oooh. Oh. Aha.” He grinned. “You have? Really. That’s interesting.”“Khm. He’s a very attractive man.” Kim looked supremely embarrassed.“Yeah,” Harry said with feeling. “Yeah, he’s sexy as fuck.”Kim drew himself up, trying to regain his poise. “So if you want to try and rekindle whatever you two had, I’d be all right with that. Under those circumstances.”Harry leaned down and hugged him around the middle, leaning his head against Kim’s chest, ear against his sternum. He could hear his heart beating, slightly faster than usual. “If you’re sure. I never ever want to do something to jeopardise what we have, Kim.”“Me neither. But I don’t think this will do it. If he even wants to.” Kim stroked his hair. “I love you, Harry,” he mumbled. “I hope I’m strong enough to share you.”Harry pressed his head against him. He wants to overcome that jealousness as well as try this. God, I’ll happily give him that. “Same.” Harry didn’t waste time. The very next day, he asked Jean to meet up in the same café as before. He had begun to call it Café Infidélité in his mind, which was both incorrect as well as a bit of a downgrade from its actual name, Fleurs le matin. Harry’s version rhymed, however, so it was clearly superior. When he asked, Jean growled at him, then agreed, muttering that it had better get Harry off his back. They went on their lunch hour. The café was crowded, but they managed to find some space in the back, near the bathrooms. Harry ordered the same two coffees, then sat silently, trying to work up his nerve to speak. Jean watched him impatiently.“Did you have something to say, dragging me back here? Or are you just keeping me from my lunch for your shitty idea of fun?” he prompted, when Harry didn’t say anything.Please, please, please don’t say ‘I want to have fuck with you’ to your treasured, decorated half-brother. Despite the fact that’s the thing you really want to do.Harry took a deep breath. “I liked you kissing me, I liked it a lot, actually, and I’d really like for you to do that again, and more stuff, like really party down if that is a thing you’d like to do, if you feel like it and if we can find a good time for it… uh... that is…”He petered out, unable to meet Jean’s eyes and his stunned silence any longer. The collar of his shirt chafed at his throat, and he tugged at it like a schoolboy asking someone out for the first time.“You- you said we weren’t happy,” he went on. “I’d… like to change that. Or, I dunno. See if we can change that together? I’m different. You’re pretty different too.”Harry tugged on his collar again and winced. I’m different. I changed. Oh, excellent. Now, not only do you sound like bumbling schoolboy, you sound like a total fuckup trying to crawl back to his ex. Well, that’s something I have loads of experience of, at least. He waited for Jean to say something, anything.Jean’s eyes narrowed. “You have a boyfriend. One I really respect, I might add.”Don’t say something that makes me lose what little respect I have for you, his face said with utmost clarity. What he didn’t say, however, was no. Harry nervously twisted his fingers together and took another deep breath.“I asked Kim, and… he said it was okay. If he got to join.”That was effective. Jean looked like Harry had suddenly taken out a fairly large trout from under the table and hit him in the face with it. “Join? Kitsuragi?”Gears were turning behind his flabbergasted expression. Oooooh. Jackpot. Harry sat up, intrigued. “Have you… thought of that too?”Jean frowned. “Harry, can you stop with the fucking interrogations for one, single, solitary second?”“Sorry.” Harry put his hands up. “I just felt that it was a bit relevant, you know?”Jean groaned. “It was always like this, you know that? Like you could read my goddamn mind, figuring out what I wanted before I knew it myself.”Harry leaned back and looked at him. He had one leg over the other, and was rubbing his hand on his thigh again. Harry watched it. It was a tell, and one he was beginning to get the hang of. He suddenly felt much more confident. “Sooo…?”Jean crossed his arms defensively. “So I might have thought about it,” he muttered.Harry lit up. “Yeah you have,” he said, firing off his best grin and double finger guns. “I knew it. Kim’s really sexy.” He nonchalantly studied his nails. “Aaaand I have it on good authority that he thinks you’re sexy too, so that’s-”Jean leaned forward across the table and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him close. “If we’re doing this,”, he growled, “you’re going to fucking behave, is that clear? No more of your mindreading.”Harry swallowed, the grin wiped off his face within seconds. This, too, was familiar – and very, very good. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to fall on his knees in front of Jean and follow his every whim. He nodded, frantically. “I’ll be good,” he said, hoarsely. “Promise.”“You’d fucking better, shitkid. I’ll come to your apartment tonight.” He let go of Harry, emptied his cup and put it down on the table with a hard plink. “See you at seven.”Harry looked after him as he stomped out of the café. Okay, wow. Yeah, that went better than I could have ever hoped. He basked in the memory of the conversation for a second before realising exactly what Jean had said. Wait. Tonight? He’s coming over TONIGHT? Fuck, I need to clean! He almost stood up, then realised he’d have to wait a bit before going unless he wanted to walk through a crowded café half hard. He sunk back in his chair and sipped on the cold, too-sweet coffee, mind churning with ideas.
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Harry spent hours cleaning his and Kim’s flat, all the while fighting down a bad case of stomach butterflies. It was worse than the only time he had brought home a one-night stand to his old place, after Martinaise but before he and Kim managed to stop orbiting each other long enough to act on their instincts. It’d been just as gut-wrenching as this. At least it confirmed that the amnesia hadn’t fucked things up permanently in the sexual department, but that was about as much as could be said for that particular date. Perhaps he’d always been awkward like that, perhaps it was a by-product of trying to put his whole life together from scratch. In any case, right now he felt more like a flustered teenager than a hard-working, middle-aged detective.While Harry hurried around, Kim sat on the sofa reading, occasionally making a mild comment or suggestion. Harry could swear he was snickering while his back was turned. Finally, as Harry was agonising over which shirt to wear, Kim sighed and closed his book.“Harry, please relax. It doesn’t matter which shirt you wear. You’ve known him for years.”“Yeah, but…” Harry gestured helplessly with the hangers.Kim stood up and put his arms around Harry’s waist. “My point, Harry, is that the shirt comes off.”“What if it doesn’t, though?” Harry put his hands down and leaned his forehead against Kim’s. “What if he absolutely hates this? What if I’m ruining our friendship for nothing?”Kim laid a finger across his lips. “Stop. He agreed to this. More than agreed. From what you told me, it sounds like he really wants it too.” Kim tucked a strand of hair behind Harry’s ear. “I don’t think there’s anything that can happen tonight that makes things worse than they were before. And you came back from that.”“Yeah. I did.” Harry sighed, then took a step back and held out the hangers to Kim with a hopeful grin. “You choose?”Kim rolled his eyes. “Absolutely not, Harrier. I’m going to shave and put on some cologne, because it’s six o’ clock already.”“It is? Fuck! I haven’t showered yet!”“I noticed.” Kim gave him a once-over, then smirked. “Make sure you wash thoroughly. All over.”Harry blushed crimson, threw the shirts on the sofa and jumped into the bathroom. At five past seven, Jean arrived, looking like he was regretting every single decision in his life leading up to him ringing the doorbell. He declined Harry’s offer of a drink, went straight to the bedroom and sat down on one edge of the bed, arms folded in front of him like an impenetrable shield.Harry hurried after him, sat down on the other side and grinned nervously. “Soooo… how are we going to start this?”Kim pulled one of the chairs to the bed. “All right,” he said and sat down. “You two have a lot to hash out. I’m glad you’re doing it. But I also know that you’re both chronically unable to not complicate things, so I want you to be absolutely forthright tonight. I won’t tolerate any guesswork. You both say what you want and what you don’t want, loud and clear.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Acceptable?”“Absolutely, definitely.” Kim’s tone brokered no argument whatsoever, even if Harry had been up to challenging it – which, of course, was a fun game in and of itself, but maybe not the point tonight. “You good, Vic?”Jean glowered at them both. “No. I changed my mind. This is too fucking embarrassing,” he said and stood up. “I’m going to-”Shit, no, not when we got this far- Acting on panicked need and hair trigger instinct, Harry grabbed his shirt and pulled him back down. Jean tumbled backwards into Harry’s lap, and Harry caught him around the back and leaned down, pressing his mouth to Jean’s. It was warm against his, just like the first time, or what was probably the hundredth time; his beard scratchy against Harry’s chin, the smell of cigarettes and shitty coffee, of medicinal honey and locker room soap thick in his nostrils. He pressed one trembling hand to Jean’s chest, felt it expanding with his surprised intake of breath and then contract as Jean returned the kiss, his hand tightening around Harry’s bicep. A piece of the puzzle that was his mind and his memories slid into place with a satisfying click, and Harry let go with a grin. Jean stared up at him.Harry gently stroked Jean’s chest. “Sorry for the surprise. Was that okay?”Instead of answering, Jean sat up, grabbed the back of his head and pulled him into another kiss, far more intense, locking Harry in and forcing his tongue between his lips. Harry opened up eagerly, inviting the slick heat of it, revelling in the intensity of Jean’s response as he sucked on Harry’s lower lip. Jean threw one leg over Harry’s hips, straddling him, then roughly fisted both hands in his hair, pulled his head backwards and licked along the exposed throat, dragging his tongue from Harry’s collarbone to the edge of his chin.“Ah, Jean-” Harry gritted his teeth as Jean tugged on his collar and fiercely sucked on the skin, leaving small throbbing patches of burning ache, a red, passionate necklace. Lost for words, he desperately gripped Jean’s hips as the pinpricks of pain shot through him, electrifying his nerves. Then Jean stopped, panting, a flush creeping up his cheeks as he glared at Harry’s shirt like it was personally insulting him by its mere existence. Harry’s mind was all sparkles and need, the anxiety pushed out by the intense response.“Okay, hello. That was nice. You good there?”Jean growled. “God, fucking shut up, just let me-” He pulled at Harry’s shirt, trying to get the buttons open.Harry laughed and gently pushed Jean’s hand away. “Wait, I’ll do it. It’s a good shirt.”He took his sweet time undoing the buttons, just for fun’s sake, enjoying the way Jean rubbed his hand on his thigh as he watched him undress, clearly impatient. When Harry pulled the shirt off, Jean’s hands were on him in an instant, dragging his eager hands across Harry’s biceps, shoulders, chest, then down his belly to his belt – trying to encompass all of him in one swift, hungry movement.“Fuuuuuck,” he said with feeling. “I missed this so goddamn much, you hairy bastard. Fuck you look good.” There was need in his voice, thick and raspy.“Uh, yeah. You too.” Harry bit his lip and picked at one of Jean’s shirt buttons. “You planning on taking this off, or…?”In response, Jean simply pulled the shirt over his head and threw it across the room. He was all lean muscle, an anatomist’s map of pressure points, bones and sinews, and Harry eagerly put his hands around his waist, feeling the trembling bowstrings of his tendons, the back muscles sliding under the skin as Jean slowly moved his hips. Harry rarely reflected on the fact that Jean was ten years his junior, especially since counting by cynicism he was seventy going on hundred, but he could really see it now: a man in his prime, far less ravaged by age and substance abuse than himself. The feel of his hips moving, his hard body underneath Harry’s hands stirred both memories and sensations, interlocking gears of an old, well-oiled mechanism.“God, Jean.” Kim made a little whistling noise. “I knew you train a lot, but this is truly impressive.”Jean rolled his eyes at the compliment and half-turned to him, not getting off Harry. “What about you then, Kitsuragi, not getting in on the action? You like watching, huh?”“Sometimes. Right now, I’m definitely enjoying it.” Kim leaned back casually, not rising to the bait; one arm slung over the back of the chair as he licked his lips. “When I get to see things like this.”“Uh-huh. And what would you like to see more of, then? Since you’re apparently pulling the shots here, lieutenant.”He gave Kim a look that was part challenge and part genuine curiosity. His hands started moving over Harry’s arms again, squeezing the biceps, shoulders, sliding over the collarbones, playing in his sideburns. Harry leaned into the touch, rubbing up against it like a cat. Jean let his thumb slide into Harry’s mouth, and Harry opened up to him like it was the most natural thing in the world, sucking on it, letting his tongue slide over and around it, tasting his own sweat. Jean’s hips moving against his crotch, his thumb working itself between his lips – he dug his fingers into Jean’s back, pushed him down harder, trying to get more contact between them, and Jean made a little growling noise in response, pushing his thumb in further.“Well, you seem very keen on touching Harry. I think you should continue doing that.” There was a small smile playing on Kim’s lips. “Make sure to use your mouth as well.”What little anxiety Harry still had about this whole idea was quickly dispelled. Obviously, Kim was enjoying this immensely: both Jean putting him in charge, and seeing Jean and Harry together, the contrast between their bodies, Jean’s lean, sharp angles against Harry’s soft curves and bulkier muscles… it was the same thing that Kim loved with himself and Harry. He was suddenly gripped with the intense need to give Kim a good show. It seemed like Jean felt the same, since he pulled his thumb out and pushed two fingers into Harry’s mouth instead, sliding them slowly in and out, sliding against the soft palate without even looking at him, his eyes trained on Kim and his reaction.“You gonna be keeping your clothes on?”“For now. Get to it.”In response, Jean pulled his fingers out of Harry’s mouth, turned to him and pushed him down on the bed. “Well. Since the lieutenant says. And that we should say what we want. What do you want, shitkid?”Harry looked up at him. Memories tickled at the edges of his consciousness, wanting space, wanting to be let in; a flood of forgotten sensations, just within his grasp. He reached up and slid his hands along Jean’s chest, following the soft trail of hair down over the stomach, circling the hip bones, pushing his thumbs into the yielding muscle.“I want to remember, Jean. What did we do? Can you remind me?”For a second, Jean hesitated. He looked almost frightened, skittish, like one of his precious horses. Harry squeezed his waist, trying to transfer his own anticipation and need to banish whatever Jean was feeling.“You okay?”“Are you sure you want to remember all of it, Harry?” He looked away and swallowed. “I said a lot of things to you. Shitty things. Because you liked it.”“Like what?” Harry ran his hands up his ribs, calming, teasing, distracting.Jean shivered at the touch. “Like… called you stuff. Insults. Shit-talked you. It used to really get you going.”Oh. Kinky. It actually seemed to bother him, either having done it at all or having done it in bed. Harry really didn’t have any memory of it, but then again, he rarely remembered any of the things he’d found out that he liked so far. If you liked it, it must have been good. He tried to ignore the insistent thought; it was that kind of logic that left him broken before. But this was here, and now, where it was safe. Kim was here.He gave Jean a lecherous grin. “Show me.”“All of it?” Jean’s eyes flitted to Kim, as if asking permission or confirmation.“Hey.” Harry cupped his face, gently but firmly guided his eyes back to him. “I’ll tell you to stop if I need to. I dunno if I ever did that before, but I’ve learned how to. Trust me.” He considered. “Nothing that, like, shits on women, though, okay? None of those words. That’d be a boner-kill.”Jean hesitated again, then nodded. “Good.” He tilted his head to the side. “Hitting okay?”“Oh yeah. Definitely.” Harry didn’t even have to think about that one.Jean’s eyes turned to Kim again, this time with a sardonic smile, taking in his pose, his clothes. Kim looked calmly back at him, then flexed his fingers meaningfully.“Hah. Why am I not surprised.” Jean took a deep breath. “All right, shitkid. We did this.”He leaned down and took Harry’s wrists, pulling them up and over his head, holding them down with one hand. Harry let him do it – it would have been so easy to throw him off, but there was nothing he wanted less in this moment. Harry stretched out, arching his back to get closer to him, craving the feeling of Jean’s body against his, the sparse hair and hard muscles.“And then I did this.”He sat up and let his other hand roam, trailing down from the wrist along Harry’s arm, dragging his nails across the thin skin on the inside, leaving parallel, red, hypersensitive trails over the blood vessels. Tracing the edges of Harry’s muscles, he followed the line of the biceps down to his tits, circling the nipple, then moving to the side.“You feel different,” he said, a puzzled note in his voice. “Softer.”He pushed down, dragged his fingers along Harry’s ribs – it tickled, and Harry gasped and squirmed. Immediately, Jean’s thighs tightened their grip, and Harry’s cock twitched in response. Jean rubbed up against it, moving his hips slowly. Harry really, really wanted to touch him again, to feel those taut muscles under his hands, to see what noises Jean would make when he did... he moved again, trying to get some friction against him. No luck; instead, Jean’s hand came down hard on his side, leaving a stinging, red mark, and Harry jumped and let out a yelp of mingled pain and surprise.“No. You stay there, you horny shit. I’ve been waiting for this so fucking long, I’m gonna take my sweet-ass time with you.” He dug his fingers into the flushed, tender skin, leaned on Harry’s hip, a dark, intense look in his eyes. “You still don’t have a shred of self-control, do you? Useless cocksucker. I used to have to fucking tie you down to keep you still. Do you remember? How I used to touch you? How I used to hurt you?” He slapped the same place again, adding agony to agony, and Harry breathed out hard trying not to moan. “Such a fucking glutton for pain. You could come from me just hitting you. You’d have bruises for weeks.” His hand slid up Harry’s side until he reached the nipple. He circled it, fingers still wet from Harry’s mouth, then pinched it hard.“Ah! Oh, fuck…” Harry gasped and gritted his teeth at the touch, painful and precise and so very familiar.Jean licked his lips and rolled the nipple between his fingers, drawing more half-choked noises from Harry. “And you did that, fuck, Harry… you always sounded so good. So fucking filthy, like I barely had to touch you, and you’d just come on the spot. You goddamn animal.”Jean leaned down and flicked his tongue over the nipple, then bit down on it, gently, and tugged. Harry threw his head back, his hands trembling in Jean’s grasp. Oh, fucking hell. We used to do this? How could I ever forget this? Jean sucked on the nipple, let the wet heat of his tongue slide around it, then let go, leaving the skin red and swollen, glistening with spit. Frustrated, Harry moved up against him again, pushing his hips against the insides of his thighs, but Jean gripped his side and pushed down, pinning him to the mattress.“Stay. What did I just tell you? Too horny to fucking listen, you dumb motherfucker?”He leaned down and circled the other nipple. Harry’s insides were melting into a hot mess, with Jean’s mouth on his body and his words in his ears. Kim never did this, never called Harry names – he could be rough, or gentle, whatever they felt like in the moment; but he always chose his words carefully, except for when he came apart and lost the capacity for speech altogether. Jean, on the other hand, used words like he used his hands: mercilessly, wantonly, hard and fast and precise, burrowing into Harry’s subconscious, pulling out all the things he’d told himself in his darkest moments and coating them in liquid gold before letting them out to burn on his skin. It shouldn’t feel as good as it did, and Harry wanted more.
Tell him you like it. Tell him and he will do it again.
“Please, Jean, fuck... talk- talk more like that, please.”“You like it? Sweet fucking Innocence, you’re incorrigible. Absolutely debased.” Jean let go of his hands. “Stay like that. Don’t you dare move.”Obediently, Harry kept his hands above his head as Jean shifted above him, belt buckle scraping against the sensitive underside of his belly. He leaned in, white-hot breath on Harry’s ear, tongue circling his earlobe.“You know what I remember? I remember everything you had me do to you, you sick, twisted bastard. Every object you had me put inside you, every game you had me play, every single way you had me fuck you...” He punctuated his words with open-handed hits, short, sharp, leaving pulsing patches of burning heat on Harry’s tits. “Do you know what it was like, knowing all that, and you didn’t? Having you strut around like you were wiped clean of everything?” His tongue flicked against the thin skin behind the ear before he lowered his voice even more. “You were mine,” he growled. “You let me use you so badly.”“Fucking hell, Jean…”This was another Litany, one that made Harry twist and moan and shiver all over, gripping his own wrist tightly in a desperate attempt to keep still, to behave and be good. Jean mumbled constantly, detailing everything he’d done to Harry, how depraved it was, all the while running his hands along grooves that must be so deep and well-worn for him, but where nonetheless new to Harry – an exorcism performed while he worked his way over the body beneath him.“You still like being held down.” Jean’s hands pushed down on his belly, thumbs dug in deep, circling and sliding down until he reached the belt again. “Having to wait, leaking and moaning under me.” He moved his hip again, grinding up against Harry’s cock. Harry whined in absolute frustration. “Always so fucking impatient. Just begging for me to touch you, hurt you, fuck you up.”“He is,” Kim murmured.Harry looked over at him. Kim was watching them intently, face kept carefully blank, elbows resting on his knees. He was worrying at the knuckles of his left hand, pushing his fingers underneath the hem of the gloves slowly, his lower lip between his teeth. Jean ran his fingers inside the waistband of Harry’s trousers and raised a questioning eyebrow at him.“Keep going,” Kim said with a small nod. “Touch him.”“Yes, sir.” Jean reached up and tugged at Harry’s sideburns affectionately. “What d’you want, shitkid? More of the same?” He tightened his grip, pulling Harry’s head to the side.Harry could feel the ghostly echoes of Jean’s kisses on his throat. More. Yes, more of that. I want Kim to see it. He turned over to Jean, face flushed. “Can you… do that thing?”Jean cocked his head to the side. “The thing? Use your big boy words, Harry.”He knows what I mean. He just wants me to say it. Harry clenched his teeth, then tilted his head back. “Choke me.”“Fucking hell, Harry.” Jean let go of his beard and rested the hand on his throat instead. “You’re fucked up, you know that? You kinky bastard.”Harry grinned at him. “Takes one to know one. Uh. I think.”Jean actually laughed at that. “Yeah, you are. Believe me.” He slowly tightened his hand, and Harry closed his eyes in anticipation of a sensation he only vaguely remembered in his conscious mind, but that his body craved like air.Kim’s voice broke through his reverie. “What are you doing?”Jean quickly took his hand away. “You good, Harry?”Harry opened his eyes to look at Kim again. He’d stopped fiddling with his glove, and was watching them with a concerned frown. Oh, right… he doesn’t know. He sat up and held out a hand. “More than good. Kim, it’s okay.”“You’ve done this before?”Harry looked at Jean. “We have, right?”“Many times.”Kim drummed his fingers on his thigh. “All right. But if we’re doing these kinds of things, I want to be part of it.”Harry swallowed. The thought of both their hands on him made him wish that he was either wearing much less clothing, or maybe much tighter clothing. Something with a bit more friction. Shaking his head, he broke out of the scenarios rolling around in his head, and nodded. “Yeah. Excellent.”“Sure.” Jean licked his lips. “Kitsuragi?”“Yes?”“I need both my hands. Hold him for me.”“Gladly.” Kim’s face had taken on an almost predatory expression. He sat down cross-legged and took Harry’s head in his lap while Jean spread his legs, kneeling between them. “Is this okay, Harry?”“Absolutely very yes,” Harry said and made two thumbs up. “Mega good. Hardcore. You good, Kim?”Kim moved one of Harry’s hands to brush against his crotch. His cock was straining against the fabric, and Harry could see that his ears and neck were hot pink. “Very much so,” he murmured. Harry grinned and flexed his fingers, stroking him as far he could reach, and Kim shivered.“First things first.” Jean hooked his fingers into the waistband of Harry’s trousers again and yanked. “These come off. If you want me to choke you, I want both hands full.”Oh, we’re doing it that way? “Yeah. Absolutely. Yes please,” Harry replied in a strangled voice.Jean undid his belt and opened the fly, one button at a time. “You always liked it when I kept my clothes on. You said it made you feel more vulnerable. You liked that. Do you, still?” He glanced at Kim, still dressed, and gave him a wry grin. “I’m guessing he does.”Kim smirked and rubbed his thumbs against Harry’s wrists. “Oh yes.”“God, Harry. You’re such a fucking doormat.”Jean tugged his trousers and briefs off and dropped them unceremoniously on the floor. Harry’s cock laid against his hip, precum beading at the tip, flushed and hard from Jean working him like a racehorse. Kim’s fingers tightened on his wrists, and his breath came just a little bit heavier; sly and soft, Harry kept stroking him, stretching his fingers as much as he could to see how far he could push Kim before he bit back.Jean watched him fidget and huffed. “Getting distracted? Focus, wunderkind.”He grabbed Harry’s balls, not too hard, but enough to bring his concentration firmly back to Jean. Harry grunted and winced at the tug, the dull ache lancing through his crotch and into his stomach. Jean gave him a satisfied smile and let go. Instead, he slid his hands up Harry’s thighs and circled his thumb around the uneven scar where leg met the hip, tracing the raised bump where Kortenaer’s bullet had pierced the skin, and the jagged edges where Kim had dug it out. The nerve endings still hadn’t grown back, maybe never would, but the skin around it was sensitive, and Harry shuddered as Jean dragged his nails across it.“You did a god job with this one, Kitsuragi.”“Thank you,” Kim murmured. “It wasn’t pretty. But at least he’s alive.”Jean bent down and dragged the flat of his tongue against the scar. Harry moaned and watched his mouth. His head was just there, just out of reach – if he moved just a decimetre inward, that tongue would be dragging along Harry’s shaft instead. He tried to shift his hips over, but Jean caught him and scoffed.“Fucking hell, shitkid. You getting off on getting shot now, too?” He moved so his head was above Harry’s crotch. “You want me to suck your fucking cock, huh? Take care of that for you?”His mouth ghosted over the tip, tongue flicking against it, lapping at the slit with nothing but a fraction of contact. He only had to lower his head just a little, and Harry could fuck into it, burying himself to the hilt-Jean pressed his thumbs into Harry’s hips and straightened out with a mean grin. “Dream on. You haven’t deserved it yet.”Harry put his head down with a thump. “What? Come on, stop teasing!”Kim chuckled. “Behave, Harry.”The pressure increased on his wrists, and Harry groaned, trying his best to comply, never mind the absolutely infuriating way Jean kept stroking the hairless skin on the insides of his thighs.“Fine, shitkid. If you want me to get you off so badly…”He let go of the thighs and reached up, trailed the little divot between Harry’s collarbones, then further, ghosting over the Adam’s apple. Oh, fucking finally, god. Almost sobbing with relief, Harry nodded and tilted his chin up. Kim was watching him, eyes dark, his mouth just slightly open. Jean leaned over him, fingers circled around his throat, holding him in place without applying force, teasing the touch but no more. His other hand traced the jawline, then trailed down to Harry’s chest, playing and tugging in the hairs.“You dirty bastard,” he mumbled. “You want it?”Like I ever wanted anything else. “Yes, fuck- come on,” Harry said hoarsely.“Do you really, Harry? Beg me for it.” Jean curled his fingers into the side of his throat, pinching at the skin hard enough to leave marks. “Beg me for it, you reprobate.”His hand moved up and down, massaging the neck muscles until the tension bled away, replaced by anticipation, loose and warm. The other hand found the meat of the thigh again and applied the same pressure, keeping the same rhythm. Harry whined at the unfairness of it, of not getting what he wanted, craved, just on the edge of the sensation.“Please.”Jean’s hand didn’t lose their rhythm. “Again.”“Please, Jean, please, do it.”“Again, you filthy fucking asshole.” Jean’s voice was thick, his hands trembling ever so slightly.Harry squirmed, pulling against Kim’s grip. “Jean, fuck, I’m begging you, please, please, please-”Jean pressed down, digging into the flesh and muscle, flexing his fingers against the carotid arteries, softly. His other hand moved to Harry’s cock, sliding slowly along the shaft. Harry tensed his back, moving into the touch, rolling his hips slowly. God, finally.“Harder,” he whispered. “Please, Jean.”“God, you insane fucking pervert.”Jean pressed down harder. The sound of his voice receded, muffled to a pleasurable droning as mumbled above Harry, reciting the Litany. Everything was soft, slow, all sensation concentrated in Kim’s hands on his wrists, Jean’s hand on his throat, his grip on Harry’s cock. Their faces blurred together, becoming spots of colour, deep black and warm brown against white; two warm bodies pressed against his, blood against blood, breath mingling with breath. Jean ran his thumb along the head of his cock, smearing the precum, using it to slide along the shaft. The heat was building, cresting, running down his spine to the crotch as the roaring in his ears became louder and louder.
Not yet.
Harry gasped, and the pressure disappeared from both his wrists and throat. Blood rushed back to his brain, pounding in his ears, making white spots swim in front of his eyes. Suddenly, he realised that someone was talking to him. He blinked, finally able to move his eyes again, and looked up at Kim, caressing his cheek with a concerned look.“You okay?”Harry couldn’t talk at first. His tongue wouldn’t obey. He nodded until the most basic functions came back. “It feels goddamn fantastic,” he slurred, finally. “Absolutely amazing. Just, I want to save it.”Jean sat back a bit. “Mhm. You always said it was best when you climaxed.”“Hm. Good to know,” Kim said with a little smile, obviously taking notes in his head, compiling lists for later.Harry ginned up at him. Everything was fuzzy at the edges, completely relaxed and very sharp at the same time. Stretching out, hands over his head, he could feel his spine popping, and he rolled his shoulders luxuriously. Jean was watching him, leaned on one hand, the other slowly rubbing against his thigh. A flush had crept up his face and chest, breath coming fast and ragged. He wasn’t lying when he said he enjoys that too. Harry gave him a slow smile and put his foot on his crotch, pushing down.“Having fun, Vic?”Blushing all over now, Jean grabbed his foot and pushed it off. “As fun I can have with you in the room, shitkid. Did you have something planned for that payoff, or are you going to leave me with blue balls?”Harry lazily palmed himself, stroking his still half-hard cock. “Yeah. You said we fucked. I’d like to do that.” He looked up. “Is that okay, Kim?”Kim leaned down and kissed him, deep and soft, and put his hand on Harry’s, stroking his cock along with him. “More than okay, Harry. You’re so eager for it already?”“Ah- what d’you expect? You two took me apart. I was one with the universe for a second there. I saw infinity in a grain of sand.”Jean rolled his eyes. “Fucking off-brand poet. Seeing the universe gives you a hard-on?”“It doesn’t for you?”“Yeah, I’m going to shut that stupid mouth up for you.” Jean pushed Kim away, grabbed the back of Harry’s head kissed him, rough and hard. Kim watched them, a calculating look in his eyes. “What about you, then, Jean?”Jean looked up from Harry, eyes narrowed, shoulders suddenly slightly hunched. “What about me.”“I know what Harry likes,” Kim said, the corners of his mouth twitching. “He’s a hedonist. But I think you already know that. He likes letting go and being told what to do. He likes it when I tie him up, and he likes when it hurts. He likes it when I bend him over and fuck him, and he loves when everything gets too much.” He chuckled. “And apparently, getting choked and insulted. Those are new. Is that all correct, Harry?”“You didn’t have to spell it all out like that,” Harry said reproachfully. “You make me sound like a complete pervert.” Both Kim and Jean answered “That’s because you are” at the same time, making Harry burst into laughter. Kim smiled fondly at him, then glanced at Jean again.“That’s him. What do you like, Jean?” Kim raised an eyebrow. “This is supposed to be about both of you.”“I like lots of things.” Jean glared at him, obviously uncomfortable with how the focus of the night had shifted.“But not really asking for them, hm?” Kim tilted his head, studying Jean. Harry watched them, revelling in the tension building between them. If Kim was carefully constructed composure, poise and balance, Jean was all walls: a fortress, a maze erected between himself and the world and between parts of himself. Kim was apparently bent on tearing down at least one of those walls. Harry found it equally terrifying and immensely sexy, watching him turn his steely concentration to someone else. Kim’s shoulders were relaxed, his posture self-assured; a small smile in the corner of his mouth as he watched Jean’s reaction.“What if I made you answer? I told you to begin with, you are to be absolutely forthright. And you said I was calling the shots. You called me sir. Are you going back on your word, satellite-officer?”Jean’s nostrils flared, and he got up on his knees, squared up against Kim. “I’m not a satellite-officer anymore,” he growled.Kim smirked. “Oh, I know. You have a satellite of your own now, a very competent one. But tonight, I think I outrank you. Isn’t that right?” Kim reached out and tilted Jean’s chin up slightly, one thumb trailing the edge of his lip.Harry kept absolutely quiet. The atmosphere between them could have been cut with a knife. He kept stroking himself slowly, waiting for Jean to say the words that would have Kim back down and let it go. Any moment now. Then, Jean gave Kim a curt nod.“Understood, lieutenant.”“Good.” Kim cupped his cheek, running his gloved fingers across his scars. “Now. Tell me what you like to have done to you.”Harry breathed out. Jean didn’t relax his posture, didn’t give a single centimetre of ground between them. Despite that, it was obvious that he was just as much subject to Kim’s authority as Harry was. But where Harry gave in and acquiesced instantly, willingly, Jean fought every step of the way down; nevertheless, from now on, down was still the path and the goal.Jean took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I like fucking. Getting fucked.”“Mhm. More?”Jean kept his eyes closed, but his hand was rubbing his thigh. “Say things to me. Tell me I’m doing good.”“Aah.” Kim stroked his cheekbone, trailing fingers just below the ocular socket. “Did Harry do that for you?”“When I told him to.”“Mhm. Such a gentleman, Harry.” Kim reached his other hand down and scratched Harry’s sideburns. “So you’re comfortable in the middle, Jean?”“Pitcher and catcher,” Harry interjected with a grin, breaking the tension.Jean snorted and gave his belly a slap. “Nothing as unsexy as a fucking sport’s metaphor, shitkid.”“Oof! What’s unsexy about sports? Lots of guys manhandling each other and sweating.” Harry grinned even wider.“Yeah, in polyester.” Jean said it with such disdain that Harry burst into laughter again.“Harry, behave,” Kim said mildly. “Jean was telling us what he wants.”Jean eyed him. “What is it with the cross-examinations? You too are a such a fucking pair, you know that?”“Stop dodging the question,” Kim said, with a glint in his eyes. “What do you want, Jean?” He took Jean’s jaw and forced it to the side, tilting it so that his throat was exposed, and leaned in, running his nose against the sensitive skin. Jean’s hand flexed, bunching the cloth on his trousers.“God fucking damnit… I want to fuck him. I want to fuck Harry.”“There we go. Good boy, telling me that.” Kim breathed on his throat, sending shivers through his shoulders. “It’s been long, hasn’t it? I can assure you, it’s as good as you remember. But you like both, Jean. Would you like both at once?”Jean’s eyes widened, and Harry let out a tortured sigh, hand tightening on his cock. “Oh my god, Kim.”“Shhh. Let him choose. I would very much like to fuck you, Jean. But it’s your choice.” He placed a light kiss on Jean’s throat, then opened his mouth and dragged his teeth against the skin. Jean’s jaw worked in Kim’s grip as he hesitated. Finally, he swallowed and nodded.Kim smiled and released him. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this. Both of you, under me?” He ran his hands over Harry’s thigh. “Get on your hands and knees, Harry. Jean and I are going to open you up together. And you,” he turned to Jean, “strip.”Harry’s brain short-circuited for a second. “Okay. Yeah, wow. Okay.”Jean glared at him, trying to regain some composure. “Shut up and do it.”As Harry obediently kneeled on the bed, enjoying the sight of Jean stripping, face flushed, scowling, Kim rummaged around in the dresser for gloves and lube. Jean glowered at him, his face promising a world of hurt if Harry dared to speak up. Harry gave him a grin.Kim pulled on the glove with a snap and pushed Harry down, face in the crook of his arms. “I want you to close your eyes, Harry.”“But… I want to see you,” Harry whined. “You’ll get to. Right now, I want you to concentrate on feeling it.” He exchanged a glance with Jean and bit his lip. “Let’s make this interesting, shall we? I’ll ask you who does what. If you get it right, you get another finger. If you guess wrong, we’re pulling out.”Jean shook his head. “You’re one devious fucker.”Harry pressed his forehead against his arms, stomach clenching with anticipation. “That’s not fair,” he complained.Jean leaned over and gave the inside of his thigh a pinch. “You don’t get fair, shitkid. You get to shut up and take it. Now down, and stay.”Harry closed his eyes. The sound of a bottle top opening, the faint squeak of a rubber glove; a hand, gripping his ass cheek. Then, a slick thumb working its way over his taint, and he sighed and dug his fingers into the mattress. “Can… can I touch myself?” He knew the answer, but asked anyway.“No.” Kim’s voice, full of humour. The hand on his ass tightened. The thumb massaged the taint, pressing inward, then the hand moved to his balls, tugging and playing with them. Another finger circled the rim of his hole. He concentrated on breathing slowly. More pressure, and the finger slid in.“Who is this?”Damn, right... he’d been so focused on the build-up that he’d forgotten to keep track. Whoever it was moved slowly, pushing in to the third knuckle, drawing a choked gasp from his throat.“Oh, fuck… Kim?”“No.”The finger pulled out, leaving him empty, and he whimpered. “Please…”The finger returned. “Again. Who is this.” A quick slide inward, then a curl, hard and precise.“Ah- Jean!”“Finally,” Jean said sarcastically. “You need to be reminded, apparently.” He curled his finger again, sliding over the prostate. “But since you guessed right…”Another finger pressed against him, and Harry groaned, moving up against it. Slowly, working in tandem, moving in and out, they teased him open, and Harry clenched around their fingers, whimpering, his cock dribbling on the sheets. Not allowed to do anything to help, he bit down on his knuckles, letting the slight pain distract and temper the intensity. Suddenly, both hands withdrew, leaving him empty and aching. Harry gasped and opened his eyes. Kim had one hand on Harry’s ass, the other tangled in Jean’s hair, pulling him close, kissing him deeply. Jean pressed up against him hungrily, ungloved hand on his back. Harry groaned in frustration. “Oh my fucking god, you can’t do that and not let me touch myself!”Kim let go of Jean and pushed his fingers in again, deeper, twisting. “Happy?”Harry let out a half-strangled gasp and dug his fingers into the tangled covers. “Sorry, yes, yes, oh, hell yes…”Jean growled, pulled the glove off and threw it on the floor. “That’s fucking it, I can’t take this anymore. How do you want me to fuck you, Harry?”“Can I- oh, god, Kim- can I be on my back? I want to see you both.”Kim pulled out of him. “Good. I want to see your face when he takes you.”Jean chuckled. “All right, you greedy asshole. Lie back.” He grabbed a condom and rolled it over his cock, smeared lube on it, sliding up and down while Harry turned over. Kim took out a couple pillows and put them under his lower back to get a better angle. Jean leaned over him, knees on the edge of the bed, spreading him open; then lined up and pushed in slowly. Impatient, Harry hooked one leg around him and drew him in, all the way, quick and hard. The stretch was immediate, burning, glorious, and he gripped Jean’s forearms with a moan. Jean grunted and frowned, waiting for a second as Harry tensed around him, then relaxed.“Fucking hell, Harry…” Jean started moving, carefully, deliberately. Harry held on to him, legs behind his back, meeting his slow strokes.“You’re both doing so well.” Kim gently pushed Jean down on top of Harry. “Kiss him. Kiss him while I fuck you open.” Kim’s fingers moved over Jean’s ass, then pushed inward. Jean spasmed and jerked his hips forward, sliding over Harry’s prostate. “Kiss him.”Kim moved his hand again, and Jean groaned and bent down. Harry reached up and pulled him in, pressing his lips against Jean’s, panting into his mouth. The slow, rhythmic motion of Kim’s fingers inside Jean meant Harry could see every little expression on his face: every movement of his eyebrows, how his jaw twitched; when Kim curled his fingers just so, a shiver ran through him, spit-stained lips parted. Jean breathed small, choked noises against his chest, and Harry angled his hips upwards, taking more of him in.“You feel so good around me, Jean,” Kim murmured. “You sound amazing. How much more can you take?”“Not too much, Kim, I-” Jean panted, rocking forward with each movement of Kim’s hand. “Not too much, fuck...”“You like it rough?” There was a hitch in Kim’s voice. “It’ll be my pleasure.”He undid his trousers, and Harry could hear the clinking of his belt as it moved against the back of Jean’s thighs. Kim pushed in, hard, and Jean arched his back and exhaled, thrusting into Harry again. Kim set the pace, torturously slow, hands on Jean’s chest.“You’re- you’re doing so well, Jean. Have you done this before?” His voice was raspy, tense with the effort of keeping his composure.“Never,” Jean gasped. “Never, fuck… faster, you bastard, come on.”“No.” Kim caressed his stomach, fingers sliding over tensing abs, and Jean gritted his teeth.Harry let go of Jean’s arm and reached between their bodies, gripping himself, enthralled by the both of them moving above him, combined thrusts forcing him down. Sweat beaded on Jean’s forehead, dripping down, and he moved a hand to Harry’ throat, trembling, hesitant.Kim leaned in and whispered in Jean’s ear. “Good boy. Do it.”He could see Kim’s fingers digging into Jean’s shoulder, the other hand on his stomach, holding him up. Jean’s fingers clamped down. Harry sighed with pleasure as the pressure built again in his ears, thumping, a deep bass accented by Jean’s thrusts, his body tensed and sweaty, panting above Harry. His other hand curled in the sheets, denting the mattress, and Harry gripped his arm, holding on, the other hand on his cock, sliding over the head. He was soaring, climbing, a roaring wave, cresting; the edges of his vision faded.Harry let go of Jean and gripped his cock tighter. The pressure disappeared, and the blood rushed back to his head, followed by a blinding euphoria. His cock spasmed in his grip, smearing Jean and him both with sticky white as he convulsed, hips bucking upwards. The world receded again, reduced to nothing but sensation. He was vaguely aware of Jean thrusting into him, muttering obscenities, snapping his hips forward again and again, Kim’s white-knuckled fingers on his shoulders. Then Jean went rigid, trembling above him, head thrown back, eyes shut – then he collapsed, chest heaving. Harry caught him on pure reflex. Kim pulled out, rolled the condom off and jerked off against Jean until he came on his back, leaned on him, his slight weight pushing Jean down onto Harry. Then, legs shaking from exertion, he sat down on the bed and slumped backwards.For a good few minutes, none of them moved. Then, Jean pushed away from Harry’s chest and rolled over to the other side. Harry immediately reached out both arms and pulled them both in, holding them tight against his ribcage, their deep, exhausted breaths heaving in tandem with his own.Jean snorted. “Figures you’re still a fucking snuggler, too.” But he didn’t pull away.“Damn right.” Harry could feel the sweat matting his hair, soaking the sheets. “Fuck, I wish I had some disco singer millions. I’d buy a jacuzzi we could all fit in.”“There’s no jacuzzi large enough to get your mind clean, shitkid,” Jean muttered without venom. “You need a swimming pool. A swimming pool full of lye.”Kim sleepily reached over and poked Jean in the ribs. “Be nice.”Jean swatted at his hand. “I’ll settle for a shower. In a bit. That was fucking intense.”“Yeah, I’m thinking of living here now,” Harry said and ruffled his hair. “This is my office from now on. Send out a memorandum or something.”Kim let out a snorting laugh. “Oh, Pryce would love that.” He got up on one elbow. “You two can rest while I shower, but you’re not getting out of it. And I’m not sleeping in sheets that just had that happen to them.”Jean gave him a lazy salute. “Yes, sir.”Harry waved at him. “Return in triumph! Bring water, cause I feel like I just ran a marathon.” He ruffled Jean’s hair again. “Wanna do this some other time?”“Ask me in three days when I can walk straight again.”Harry chuckled and took a deep breath, drawing in the scents of them – engine oil and pine needles, honey and cigarettes.