Chapter Text
Jesper gets a text from Wylan at ten thirty a.m. on a Tuesday. It doesn’t really matter (because he’s unemployed) but he’s a bit surprised (because Wylan isn’t).
Coffee this week?
He raises his eyebrows, curious and a little bit judgemental at the same time. Not like he’s in a state to judge. Currently Jesper is lying naked, alone, on sheets messy with tortilla chip crumbs and stained with beer. He knows he should change them. He hasn’t in… he can’t remember when he last changed his sheets.
Coffee sounds rather nice.
They arrange it. Jesper doesn’t pry. The last time he talked to Wylan was… Jesper also doesn’t remember, but he thinks it was before the last time he changed his sheets. Saints, it makes him feel slimy to think about it. Just, not slimy enough to actually do anything about it. He can hardly even muster up the focus to get himself out of bed.
Coffee sounds really nice.
When he gets to the cafe in the fancy-ish end of Ketterdam, Jesper is met with the sight of Wylan already at a table near the door. He sits patiently — more patiently than Jesper could ever manage — with a mug of black coffee in front of him. There’s a second mug just in front of that one, topped with whipped cream and cinnamon, inevitably for Jesper. He pauses when he sees it, unsure what to make of the fact that Wylan remembers his order.
They don’t hug when Jesper steps up next to the table, although Wylan stands. Jesper wishes he wouldn’t, but now he’s done it and there’s nothing Jesper can do about it. For a moment, he wonders if Wylan will try to hug him, but he doesn’t. He just clears his throat and, in the accent Jesper has never been able to forget, says hello. Jesper says hello back.
Awkwardly, they sit.
“It’s good to see you,” Wylan says.
“You too,” Jesper replies. It’s not strained, but their small talk is very obviously just that: small talk. Impersonal, soulless, dull. Still, Jesper asks, “How’s work?”
“Good,” Wylan offers. “Slightly boring.”
He very pointedly does not ask Jesper about his work. Jesper is strangely grateful.
Then — because Jesper is stupid — he repays the favour in the worst possible way.
“Are you still single?”
Wylan blinks, possibly a little bit startled. Maybe offended. Who knows. Jesper stares at him because he’s too stubborn to look anywhere else. In his head he tries to count how many words they bandied about between them before he made things disgustingly awkward — not enough you stupid stupid stupid git — but doesn’t get very far at all.
“Yeah,” Wylan manages. “You know how it is.”
Slowly, Jesper nods. He knows exactly how it is. “So how’s Kaz?”
Wylan presses his lips firmly together. He looks… Jesper can’t get a read on him. It’s been — weeks? months? — not all that long at all since they last spoke and he’s already lost that intricate knowledge of how Wylan is feeling when he looks a certain way. The idea of it is acid and Jesper really fucking hates it.
It would be easier if they were exes but they aren’t. That is the stupid little detail that makes Jesper feel like absolute shit. If they were exes he would know how he should feel. He would know which words were right to describe the tension between them, picked out of the cloud thrown at him by pitying people that couldn’t keep their noses out of his business. Jealous, sad, pathetic, lonely, angry, cucked, betrayed, vindictive. There’s no fucking manual for being presented the guy he used to fuck around with, and fell for, who is now still getting dicked by the third friend they both used to fuck around with together.
“He’s okay,” Wylan finally decides. He narrows his eyes a little bit. “Didn’t you see him…”
“Last week,” Jesper says, because he did. Just, not in the context that he used to see Kaz in. Certainly not in the context he saw Kaz and Wylan together in.
When he is with Kaz, they do not talk about Wylan. Ever. Ever. They also don’t fuck, which Jesper is a little bit disappointed by, but he’s never asked and Kaz has never offered and that’s going to have to be fine for now.
“I actually wanted to ask about that,” Wylan says. His voice is quieter now than it was a moment ago. It’s just… soft. A comforting sort of soft, which — to his surprise — Jesper remembers. It’s Wylan’s aftercare voice. It’s his, three am and you might be asleep, voice. The voice Jesper sort of maybe, a little bit, fell in love with.
“About me seeing Kaz.”
Jesper is aware his voice is flat and blank but he can’t really do much about it. The last time Jesper saw Kaz he’d been tagging along while he searched through the library for information on one of the useless fuckers that ran their shitty local council. Sussing out a scandal, he had called it. Jesper called it something to do on a Wednesday that wasn’t pathetically jerking off because he was still very much unemployed, and also lonely.
“Not quite,” Wylan replies. He glances down at his coffee. Jesper hasn’t seen him touch it. He has been absently poking away at his own drink — spiced chai, because of course Wylan remembers what he drinks and of course he bought it for him — but Wylan hasn’t. Wylan clears his throat. “About you joining us for an evening, sometime. If you want.”
Jesper blinks. Wylan does not look at him.
Gently, Wylan continues, “It’s been a while.”
That’s the understatement of the century.
“Yeah,” Jesper says.
He sits with a strange mess of confusing thoughts, although the one that screams loudest is yes yes fuck yes fuck yes. He sips his chai, then sets it back down on the table. His second thought doesn’t taste as nice as the cinnamon on his tongue, or the itching, overwhelming urge to fall into bed with his two — former — fuck buddies. His second thought is, you fucked off for a reason, Fahey.
He did.
The reason was the painful yank of his heartstrings when he looked at Wylan, every time without fail regardless of where Kaz and Jesper put him. On his knees, on his back, standing in the middle of the room or tied to a door frame or artfully propped somewhere with his legs held apart with a spreader bar and his hands cuffed behind his back. It was meaningless sex that became too meaningful too quickly while Jesper drowned in it, just a little bit, because he’d come to the realisation that no one ever needs him. Fewer people want him.
All Wylan wanted from him was to suck his cock and get fucked with Kaz watching, and that was a very different thing to falling in love.
So Jesper left.
He just sort of stopped going, although they didn’t exactly have a regular schedule. It wouldn’t have worked between Wylan’s busy work and Kaz’s quest for riches and Jesper’s general uselessness, so they never bothered. It was just that he said no once, and then again, and then again and again — to the dinner coffee movies drinks pseudo-dates, to any and every offer to fuck — and eventually, they stopped asking.
It’s better this way. Easier.
Wylan finally looks up at him, blue eyes striking. Jesper swallows, and finds the motion difficult.
“It just isn’t the same without you,” Wylan says.
Jesper quirks an eyebrow. “Is that because you like being watched you get railed?”
When Wylan rolls his eyes Jesper knows he’s being dramatic, but his pale cheeks still flush their recognisable, earnest pink. “There’s no pressure to say yes,” he says, choosing rather tactfully not to dignify Jesper’s jibe with a response.
Jesper really doesn’t know when the last time he saw Wylan was — but here he is. Out for coffee with him just because he texted, once, and just as desperate to dive into bed as he used to be when they were inches away from doing just that. Jesper sips the drink Wylan bought him and thinks, maybe it is like we’re exes. He feels fucking pathetic, but he doesn’t know if that’s the worst thing in the world.
“When are you guys free?” Jesper asks.
They don’t do it in Jesper’s apartment, which is good, because he still hasn’t changed his sheets. They do it in Wylan’s apartment, which is also good. He has very nice sheets.
They’re dark purple. Jesper sits on them and runs his fingertips over the soft weave, fidgeting incessantly because he always fidgets, always has and always will. It’s annoying, but he is annoying, and thinks that it’s probably a good thing that the world has a warning.
Then Wylan clambers onto his lap and ungently forces him onto his back, already kissing him stupid.
Kissing Wylan is something Jesper has missed more than he thought he would, and finds himself desperate to know if Wylan is thinking the same. Now — with all of Wylan’s weight atop the span of his thighs and his soft lips parting enough to encourage Jesper’s to do the same — he’s struck by how talented Wylan is. Instantly it starts to feel obscene, all spit and tongue and teeth. It’s hot, getting Jesper harder — but that might be the way Wylan grinds his hips down rough and dirty, the way he makes tiny gasping noises with each little rut of his hips. Jesper tries not to moan but it’s impossibly difficult when he has Wylan on his lap, moving with so much promise.
“Ghezen,” Wylan gasps, which could mean anything at all. Jesper just nods. Quietly, Wylan moans, and repeats his heavenly plea: “Ghezen, Jesper.”
He wants to joke, and thinks that once upon a time it would have been easy. Missed me that much? But he has just enough self awareness to know that he can’t, that he’d just end up making things weird and he’s trying as hard as he possibly can not to be off-putting. Not when he’s been given this opportunity again, not when they asked for him back.
He doesn’t reply to Wylan’s whispers with words, which is good. Instead Jesper reaches his hand up and cups it behind the back of Wylan’s head, tugging him close and kissing him again. He runs his tongue along the back of Wylan’s teeth and gets a moan for his trouble.
“Do I need to be here?”
Jesper looks up to see Kaz looking back. He’s seen him recently but not in this context. Not with Wylan on his lap, not with Wylan tucking his face into the crook of his neck to leave open-mouthed kisses along his skin. Jesper’s eyelids flutter and focus becomes impossible, but he tries, keeping his eyes on Kaz even with Wylan starting to frantically unbutton his shirt, lips kissing a line down to Jesper’s clavicle.
It’s not been that long since he’s seen Kaz but seeing Kaz like this is an entirely different beast.
When he steps up close to them Wylan pulls away, although his hands have started to wander up and down Jesper’s chest. They tug at his shirt and Jesper knows that, probably, he’ll be naked within minutes. He also knows that he will not mind.
Jesper lifts himself up onto his forearms, and Kaz — ever-understanding — answers his request.
The kiss that follows Kaz settling onto the bed beside Jesper is slower, less frantic. It’s lighter, too, no tongue, but Jesper doesn’t mind that. The truth of the matter is that he’s missed them both, not just Wylan. He fell for Wylan, disastrously so, but losing out on Kaz like this stung just as badly.
But now, he’s here. Kaz is kissing him. Wylan has undone all of his shirt buttons. Jesper feels really, really good.
The transition to the evening’s main event, so to speak, is rather quick. Kaz stays on the bed, keeping Wylan with him, but Jesper is told to get on the floor. It’s basic, for the three of them — and probably for Kaz and Wylan, too, although Jesper can’t say he’s really privy to the way they are around each other anymore.
(He’s not jealous. It’s fine.)
Like he so often has before, Kaz sets Wylan up on his knees. Jesper stares, mouth dry with arousal while he watches Wylan start to submit. It’s familiar, the way Kaz guides Wylan’s hands behind his back once he’s naked. He binds them together with cuffs that might be too tight for him, and presses a necktie gag between his teeth. It’ll be spit soaked by the end of the night, probably. Either way Wylan is left prone and silenced, with nothing but a ring of bells around his wrist to get him out of it if he needs it.
They begin.
With starving eyes Jesper watches Kaz reach a bare palm down to wrap around Wylan’s cock. For an instant Wylan goes tense, but soon enough he settles.
“Follow along,” Kaz tells Jesper, and because it’s an order and Jesper is pathetically desperate for any inch of good favour, he obeys immediately.
He sees the way Wylan’s eyes have fallen shut, twitching just a little as Kaz starts to stroke him. Jesper sees the way he moves so slowly, and teasingly, and knows that Wylan hates it and loves it in equal measure. As he was told, Jesper matches the motions, stroking his cock from base to tip at Kaz’s languid, leisurely pace. He feels harder now than he’s ever been on his own, in his grimy sheets trying too hard to only think about faceless figures in an effort to get over himself.
Now he’s here with Kaz and Wylan both and isn’t sure how he’d ever thought he could get the two of them out of his head. He’s never going to be able to forget the sight they make after doing this — watching Wylan start to squirm as Kaz pushes him, hand squeezing around his cock as he darkly reminds Wylan not to come without permission. As if it needs to be said.
Jesper wets his lips, unwilling to look away from the two of them. He wouldn’t call himself a detail oriented person but right now the big picture doesn’t really matter. He lets himself fixate on the little things, eyes tracking over a sea of pale skin and cataloguing each square inch. The length of Wylan’s cock, flushed red and leaking precum. The crook of his collarbone, the shine of spit on his lips. Kaz is fully clothed but Wylan wears nothing but his pretty blush and the spattering of freckles that Jesper has missed kissing for too long.
He watches, eagle-eyed, as Kaz works his fist slowly up and down Wylan’s cock. Kaz goes slowly so Jesper does too, hand a half-stutter after Kaz’s like a ghost. Chasing, always chasing, never making the decisions for himself.
This is how it always was.
Jesper doesn’t mind and never has but now while he stares watches leers (like a dirty voyeur) he feels a little bit — lacking. Like they’ve weighed him up and found him wanting. It makes his stomach flip but he isn’t really all that surprised, when he thinks about it. The two of them — they make sense together. They fit together, and to watch them is to see something absolutely beautiful. Kaz’s slender fingers, Wylan’s scrunched up eyes. Neither of them speaking much but Wylan moaning and Kaz watching him do it because that’s what they’re both like, still. They’re unchanging. They’re both still perfect and Jesper is still just Jesper. Not good enough but still invited along anyway to see the two most gorgeous men he’s ever had the privilege of seeing naked—
“Getting distracted?”
Kaz moves his hand up and down Wylan’s cock a little faster and Jesper stares, lips parted, for a bit too long. It takes Kaz stopping his hand entirely — and Wylan subsequently whining loud in complaint — for Jesper to realise that he’d been asked a question.
“What?” he says weakly, feeling dizzy at the idea of fucking up. Kaz raises an eyebrow. Jesper squeezes his cock, suddenly too aware that he’d been drifting into his own thoughts instead of following Kaz’s lead.
“Are we boring you?” Kaz says slowly.
Jesper rushes to shake his head and, this time, when Kaz touches Wylan Jesper forces himself to focus on doing exactly what Kaz does.
They go for what Jesper thinks must be an hour.
Kaz has endless patience that neither Jesper nor Wylan could hope to match while they’re the ones that have torturous, too-slow stimulation on their cocks. The room fills with sounds Jesper loves and has missed, a soundtrack he’s hidden in the back of his brain and longed for without letting himself admit it. It’s the sound of hitching gasps and gentle whines, the slick pass of skin over wet skin and tiny, quiet moans. The bed creaking as Wylan squirms. The occasional chime of his bells as he shuffles. The echoing thud of Jesper’s heart in his ears, although no one else can hear it. And constantly repeating —
“Stop.”
Wylan cries out, possibly startled, possibly annoyed. Jesper stops, as he was told, watching Kaz lift his hand away from Wylan’s cock too. He sees Wylan turn his head to glare at Kaz although, with the gag, he can’t say a damn thing.
For Jesper it is thrilling and freeing to give up control of his orgasm to Kaz. If it happens it happens but Jesper doesn’t need to think about it. He doesn’t need to chase it. By now he is too used to the touch of his own hand on his own cock but it’s different with Kaz telling him when to touch and when to stop. He is a cared for creature here. He doesn’t need to think.
But he knows the games and the rules and the things Kaz likes. Jesper has been good so far but he wants more. He tastes it too sour on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t mind. The fog in his head that makes him feel light and weightless is already starting to gather at the corners of his thoughts and he loves it, welcomes it, because it’s never not been safe to let go completely with these two. Now, even after days weeks months lifetimes apart, he feels safe with them.
He says, “Please.”
Wylan gasps, maybe instinct or maybe something Kaz did or maybe because he really likes the sound of Jesper begging, but the very fact of him gasping like that turns Jesper’s next plea into a moan. He sees Wylan shudder, drool dripping down his chin.
Kaz’s reaction is more subtle but still wonderfully obvious because Jesper is watching him, because remembering the intricacies of Kaz Brekker comes back easier than the intricacies of Wylan Van Eck. His pupils blow wide, dark eyes getting darker. He’s hungry, enjoying the sight the two of them make even though they’re the ones with hands around their cocks and he’s still in all his clothes. Maybe he isn’t as close to an orgasm, but he’s as invested as they are.
He starts to stroke Wylan’s cock again, which means Jesper does the same. On his knees Jesper says please and strokes his cock — and when Kaz speeds his hand up on Wylan’s cock, ruthlessly unrelenting, Jesper follows along — which makes him start to feel a little stupid. His heart is racing. Is that normal? He can’t remember. He doesn’t care. He likes it loves it needs it and he wants more so he just says — please.
Jesper begs — please, please, please please please — and falls a little bit more in love with the very act of submission (for these two? There's no other word for it. Love. Love. Love love love.) Wylan whines. He visibly squirms and struggles and writhes, leaking precum down the length of his swollen cock — the cock that Kaz has stopped stroking now although Jesper keeps touching his own and Kaz doesn’t stop him and doesn’t call him pathetic and doesn’t force him to the floor till he learns his manners — but Jesper isn’t paying any attention to Kaz, really, because Wylan is still whining.
“Please,” Jesper sobs out, more fractured this time and infinitely more needy.
“Please what?” Kaz taunts. Jesper groans. He doesn’t fucking know, he’s too stupid to know, a uselessly horny man that cannot think but wants, so desperately wants, so desperately desperately wants and —
“Please!”
Wylan cries out. Jesper lifts his head to see that Kaz has shoved his hands through red curls, clinging tight and forcing him back. Wylan’s neck is stretched long, deliciously there, and Jesper’s mouth goes dry. His eyes dart unwillingly to Kaz. Kaz quirks an eyebrow.
“Tell me what you want or I won’t let him come for another hour.”
Jesper groans. Wylan echoes it. It isn’t a game either of them are unfamiliar with because Kaz likes to be devastating with his ultimatums. Jesper denying himself is nothing but knowing Kaz means Wylan— knowing he might later turn the tables and put his orgasm in Wylan’s hands— it was always too much and it’s too much now. Uselessly, Jesper shifts. His hand is still on his cock but he slows his pace down, heart still racing, until he eventually falls still.
What do you want what do you want what do you want what do you—
He wants Wylan.
He wants Kaz too but he wants Wylan and he wants more of them than he’s allowed to have. The easy answer to Kaz’s question is an orgasm so that I can leave again and put this behind me and pretend I’m not still very much in love, except that isn’t really all that easy and Jesper doesn’t know what he’s meant to do anymore.
“I want,” he starts, to cum to leave to love you to be loved. To be loved to be loved to be loved to be— “I want to stop.”
Kaz blinks.
Jesper chokes out the words. It’s an easy lie except it’s not easy to say and barely a lie, and instantly Jesper hates himself — but what’s new? He stubbornly lifts his head a little more, and Kaz is still staring at him, but now Wylan is too. His eyes are wide, brows furrowed with abject confusion, and Jesper hates the way the sight of them both makes him feel.
“You know your safeword,” says Kaz, ever practical. Jesper works his jaw, but the word doesn’t come easy.
“Red, then,” he mutters.
Wylan makes a noise behind his gag. Jesper doesn’t know what it means. He wants to, so badly wants to, but he has no clue and thinks that that’s the problem with this whole set up. He’s lost all the knowledge of them, these two people that say they want him but must be lying. They deserve better. They’d be stupid not to see it and neither of them are fools. Not like Jesper is — deluded pathetic sad useless.
Jesper doesn’t stand. He stays on his knees and lets go of his cock but can’t bring himself to actually go anywhere because he is singularly useless.
“You’re leaving,” Kaz says. He means it as a question, Jesper thinks, but it doesn’t sound like one. Wordlessly, he nods. Kaz nods back. “Why?”
Jesper opens and shuts his mouth a few times. Why? It’s such a simple question when Kaz asks it like that but there’s no simple answer. None Jesper is willing to really admit to, not now with them both watching him like they are.
He swallows, throat parched and stomach turning. The itch to do something idiotic is firing off in his chest except he’s doing something idiotic right now and it’s not making him feel any fucking better. Coming here was idiotic, and safewording out because he’s a fucking coward is twice as dumb.
“You guys don’t want me here,” Jesper finally says. “I shouldn’t have come back.”
His voice is weak and pathetic and, as quickly as he thinks I love you both, he thinks I’m sorry I’m a fuck-up and I’m never going to see either of you again. This time I mean it. This time I really mean it.
For a moment everything is silent. Jesper wonders if this really is it, or if he’ll cave in another few months and crawl back to them for any shred of affection they can offer. Probably not.
Except Kaz —
“You fucking dullard.”
Kaz’s words are spit out with the lingering taste of fire that startles Jesper, just a little bit. Kaz grips too hard to the hair at the back of Wylan’s head as if in reflex. Wylan cries out but Kaz doesn’t pay it any mind, dropping Wylan onto his face to instead move towards Jesper. He doesn’t touch him but his presence is unignorable, giving Jesper no choice but to square his shoulders and face him.
“What?” Jesper says, hackles raised. “What did I—”
“He is in love with you.”
Jesper blinks. Kaz glares. There’s no kindness in this strange confession — and it isn’t Kaz’s secret to confess. Jesper glances at Wylan, although his face is still pressed into the mattress where Kaz unceremoniously dumped him. The tips of his ears, though, are a little bit redder than they were a moment ago.
“What?” Jesper stupidly repeats.
Kaz lifts a spectacularly judgemental eyebrow. “He’s been in love with you since well before you decided to cut your losses and ditch him.”
“I ditched you too,” Jesper unhelpfully adds. Kaz glares at him. Jesper doesn’t shrink back, and finds himself too pleased to have held his ground. Again he feels his head swimming, which right now can’t be good. It’s something dark and devastatingly permanent that says, he’s lying.
Jesper sees Kaz’s jaw work, teeth grinding with the promise of a headache to follow, as if he is acutely aware of what Jesper is thinking.
“You ran,” Kaz says, “like a coward, for no good reason.”
“Don’t patronise me,” Jesper snaps. “I made my choice.”
“And it was a stupid one. Do you know how long I had to deal with his pathetic, heartbroken—”
The sharp ringing of bells drowns out the rest of his sentence, stealing Jesper’s attention like death steals air. Wylan frantically shakes his wrist, whole body trembling. He still hasn’t lifted his head — but a safeword is a safeword and neither Jesper nor Kaz are cruel.
Jesper scrambles up to his feet quicker than Kaz can move. He sinks to his knees beside the mattress, lifting Wylan as much as he can and holding him upright. When Jesper loosens the gag — only just enough for Wylan to spit it out — Wylan squirms away from his touch. There are tears in his eyes.
“Fuck you, Kaz,” he spits, “fuck you.”
“You weren’t going to tell him,” Kaz icily replies.
“And that would have been fine.”
“You think he’s fine?” Kaz hisses. He leans in close to Wylan, until their faces are inches apart, but to his credit Wylan doesn’t flinch. Jesper tenses up, though, ready for a fight. “He was two bad days away from leaving the country.”
Jesper furrows his eyebrows.
He doesn’t say anything but — because he hasn’t looked away yet — Jesper sees the exact moment Wylan looks in his direction. It’s been a while but now, finally Jesper sees it all: irritation anger frustration want need hunger sadness. The tears in his eyes. The way his breathing is laboured and strained and the way he needs. The same way Jesper needs him, perhaps.
“How long?” Jesper asks. His voice is quiet, but he asks and that’s not nothing.
There’s no pause.
“The whole time,” Wylan replies coldly. “Years, Jes. Fucking years of wishing you loved me back.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“And you ran away from me.”
Jesper feels his stomach drop out from beneath him, heart thudding so hard he tastes it. It tastes like acid and regret; bile and the confirmation that he is exactly the asshole he was so afraid of becoming. He ran away from him. From both of them. What good has it done him? What good has it done any of them?
“I’m sorry,” he says.
Wylan’s gaze softens. His eyes still shine. Jesper finds himself wonderfully grateful. “I wish you hadn’t left me,” Wylan whispers.
Jesper swallows. His throat feels scratchy. “I thought… I wanted too much. I didn’t know you wanted anything more than we were doing.”
“Because you’re stupid,” Wylan mutters. It makes Jesper laugh and, happily, Wylan chuckles too.
Slowly, gently, Jesper leans in. Wylan allows it. This time when they kiss each other it’s horribly sweet. It’s not the promise of dirty sex or satisfaction — because it’s already satisfying in itself — but it is the promise of something just as nice. Jesper feels his heart racing, possibly because he’s stunned by the implication of all the things Wylan and Kaz have said. Regret tastes like acid but now, for just a moment, he can focus on the idea that Wylan loves him, and not all those months needlessly spent apart from each other.
Wylan pulls away first. “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” he breathes, voice faint. Jesper nods. He has so many questions but thinks, if Wylan wants him to, he can be patient.
“What do you want?”
His response is wordless, a pointed stare in Jesper’s direction. He looks like he’s starving. It leaves Jesper listless, floating, hungry and bare.
They uncuff Wylan.
Jesper settles against the headboard and, rather quickly, Wylan straddles his lap. He seems eager, absolutely hellbent on carrying on where they left off, but Jesper pauses.
There are marks rubbed on his skin, angry red, and gently — taking Wylan’s hand up slowly and giving him time to pull away — Jesper kisses them. He feels two sets of eyes on him while he does but it’s a tender movement he allows for himself. Just his lips, gently kissing the sore skin of Wylan’s aching wrist.
When Jesper glances up at him he sees fond affection in his blue eyes. Wylan runs his tongue along his bottom lip.
Then he kisses Jesper.
Kaz tells Jesper, without kindness in his words, to stretch Wylanunless he’s going to fuck him dry, and obviously Jesper isn’t, so obviously , Jesper does what he’s told. He takes the lube from Kaz as offered and sinks his hands between Wylan’s legs, pressing into him slowly and carefully but — as per Kaz’s deliberate instructions — without touching his cock. They keep playing their games as Kaz tells him to stop and go and slow down and wait, each instruction making Wylan whine and Jesper gasp because he can barely, barely breathe. He doesn’t find himself exasperated. He can’t. Not with Wylan in his lap like this, admitting that he cares, and certainly not with Kaz giving him these instructions because he knows what both of his friends want and need
Jesper feels very, very loved.
They go until eventually Kaz grants blessed mercy and tells Jesper to put on a condom — which he does, fumbling all the while, as Wylan watches. His bare chest is mottled with a flush so deep he looks bruised, like a too-ripe peach begging for teeth to sink into flesh. Jesper ducks his head and nips Wylan’s clavicle, leaving open mouth kisses all along his skin. He feels Wylan jerk. The bells that they haven’t taken from around his wrist just vaguely jingle.
At Kaz’s order, Wylan starts to sink down onto Jesper’s cock. He reaches out and grips tight to Jesper’s biceps, as if Jesper is an anchor. Like the only thing Wylan thinks is certain to keep him from touching himself before he’s granted permission is the act of holding on to a man he really quite loves. He rises up again slowly, a blissful movement that makes Jesper’s eyelids flutter, then sinks back down. Jesper feels Kaz staring at the way Wylan rides him, but finds it too hard to focus with Wylan on him like this.
“You can do better than that,” Kaz says.
Wylan tries his best.
Jesper watches, awed, as Wylan bites his lip and scrunches his brow and starts to ride him. The feeling is just as blissful as he remembers it being, with tight, velvety heat around him. Jesper does his best not to groan or make any other stupid noises, but it isn’t easy to hold back. He isn’t sure he wants to hold back. He just wants — this. Wylan.
“Saints, you’re gorgeous,” Jesper whispers.
Wylan moans, thighs straining as he moves himself on Jesper’s cock. His bare skin is stained like crushed berries, across his cheeks and down his throat, spreading like spilled ink over his chest. It’s the fact Kaz is watching them, no doubt, judgemental and detached as they move together. He hasn’t told either of them to touch Wylan’s cock so, dutifully, neither of them do. Jesper rocks his hips upwards, doing what he can to help Wylan feel cherished.
“Perfect,” Jesper manages, close to stammering.
“It was— wasn’t— ah—” Wylan gasps, bouncing a little faster. Then he moans and Jesper stares and wants to swallow him, to hold him forever and make him feel holy. Wylan fumbles for his words. “It wasn’t the same without y-you.”
“Hear that Kaz?” Jesper manages. “He thinks my dick is better.”
Weakly, Wylan laughs. Jesper can just about see a wry smile on Kaz’s lips. What a beautiful man, he thinks, because Kaz is and because Jesper loves him and because he’s done this for them — because Jesper loves him, but he’s not Wylan, and Kaz knows.
Wylan tips forward — unable to keep himself upright anymore but unable to do anything but cling to Jesper to stay steady — and Jesper, on instinct, grabs his waist and holds him close. Wylan sobs, face pressing against the curve or Jesper’s shoulder. He’s drooling. He practically wails as Jesper fucks him, as he continues to fuck himself, as Kaz fails to give them the order to touch his cock and keeps him blessedly denied. There’s begging, perhaps, and sobbing and screaming and pleading and needing, but Kaz says nothing which is his way of saying no.
“Let me,” Jesper croaks, over Wylan’s litany of please Kaz please Kaz please Kaz please — “Let me touch his cock. Let me make him come.”
He doesn’t immediately realise what happens but, like it always does, it becomes clear. Jesper feels a hand on the back of his head, curling into his tightly coiled hair just long enough to give Kaz a grip. Then his head is being yanked backwards. Jesper gasps.
Kaz has forced him to look him in the eye; a desperate, final chance for benediction.
“Don’t run away again,” he says, voice low.
Jesper would never dream of it.
“No,” he manages. “I’m— staying— right here.”
So Kaz stretches his hand down to wrap around Wylan’s cock, making him cry out and tense around Jesper, thighs squeezing his hips. Jesper watches Kaz as he starts stroking Wylan off, not going slow and not being careful and barely being kind as he leans close and hisses, come on him, Wylan. Make him yours.
Wylan falls to pieces.
He cries out, cock jerking as he continues his desperate bouncing to fuck himself through his orgasm, cum spilling over Kaz’s fist and onto Jesper’s stomach. Wylan sobs again, never staying still and never stopping as he works himself through the orgasm that has been an awfully long time coming by now.
It pushes Jesper over the edge before he can ask but he doesn’t even care. He bites his bottom lip and tastes blood, cock jerking inside Wylan as his orgasm slams through him. All the while Wylan clings to him and, as much as he can without ruining Kaz’s coordination, Jesper does the same. His hands tighten on Wylan’s waist without him meaning to, but Wylan doesn’t seem to mind.
“Stop,” Wylan gasps, finally, then clarifies, “red, red, Kaz—”
Kaz lets go, long after what Jesper thinks he’d be able to cope with, although he’s more than familiar with how far Wylan likes to be pushed. It’s familiar, and he likes that it’s familiar, and that’s a very good thought. Wylan sinks a little more heavily into Jesper’s weight, still holding him. Carefully, Jesper wraps his arms around Wylan’s back, tugging him a little bit closer.
For the longest time the three of them stay exactly like that — Jesper and Wylan trying to breathe, and Kaz carefully overseeing. Then Wylan whines, a tiny little complaint, and starts to move up off of Jesper.
He lets him, vaguely throwing his condom off the side of the bed while Wylan sinks down to lie flat on his bed. He groans again, possibly sore. Jesper sinks down with him, then — a little blearily — looks up to catch Kaz’s eye.
“You coming?” Jesper slurs, blinking slowly as he tries to make the room stop spinning. Kaz scoffs.
“Later. When you both seem less…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but he doesn’t need to. Jesper certainly feels a little… and when he looks at Wylan he finds him panting, seeming dizzy.
“Fair enough,” Jesper manages. Quietly, Wylan laughs.
When Kaz steps out of the room — to get you both water before you pass out — Jesper takes it for what it is: a horrifically unsubtle hint to make his fucking move.
Jesper turns his head to the side. Wylan is already looking at him, and this time — his face isn’t unreadable. Jesper can see every little hint, every little mark. The way his eyes stay focused on Jesper’s, the way he very deliberately seems to not bite his lip or work his jaw. He’s still. He’s waiting. He’s eager. He’s — beautiful.
“You really love me?” Jesper asks.
Wylan nods. “Very much so.”
It makes Jesper laugh, only a little bit but enough; enough. Lying on Wylan’s clean sheets with his company and the reminder he’s cared for — that isn’t that easy to believe yet, but might get easier soon — Jesper feels pretty good. Better than he has in a long, long time.
“Me too,” Jesper says, okay with honesty for the first time in a long time. He clears his throat. “I… am kind of in love with you.”
Wylan looks at him, eyes bright and big and beautiful. Jesper doesn’t think he’s ever loved anything more. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” Wylan murmurs. Jesper finds himself feeling absolutely delighted by the very thought.
“So,” he says, “Coffee this week?”
Wylan smiles.