Aedan found himself watching Zevran and Feynriel whenever they were together, feeling at least a little jealous over seeing his lover with another man. Seeing the way the assassin talked to the mage, the way he'd smile, and reach out to lightly touch his arm; never anything more than that, but even that was more affection than Aedan had ever seen him show to anyone but Aedan himself. But he also found himself noticing how shy the mage seemed, the way his head would bend, long hair falling forward to hide his face, the rosey blushes that coloured his cheeks, the occasional brief smile as Zevran teased him about something.
He was beautiful. Tall and slender and graceful, and Zevran's words would not leave his head. The suggestion that Aedan share his bed with both of them… He alternated between feeling annoyed with Zevran for suggesting it – though it had been Aedan himself that had first ever suggested that it might be fun to have a third person in their bed – and feeling increasingly interested. Intrigued. Distracted by the idea, at odd times of the day, finding himself standing and watching the young mage, imagining him in their bed, all pale skin and paler hair and blushes.
"One night," he finally told Zevran, hating himself a little for agreeing, as if it was a betrayal of what there was between the elf and himself, even if it was Zevran who had suggested the mage for it. "We'll try one night and see how it goes."
Zevran gave him little chance to change his mind; he came back from dinner that evening to find the elf and the mage sitting on his bed, waiting for him. Zevran was stretched out at his ease, wearing a short robe of dark green silk trimmed with twisted gold cord that Aedan had given him as a gift, years ago. The way he was lying on the bed – head propped on one hand, the other holding a glass of brandy, one leg bent and lifted a little – the robe was just barely decent.
The mage was dressed in a similar robe, a much longer and fuller one, of pale blue silk edged in a band of silver-grey satiny cloth that brought out his own much paler colouring. His legs were folded to one side, both hands cupped around a second glass of brandy, his long hair caught at the back in a simple ponytail and trailing forward over one shoulder. He kept his head lowered, but a blush coloured his cheeks as Aedan stared at the pair of them, momentarily frozen and unsure of what to do.
"Join us," Zevran said, making a seemingly-careless gesture with the hand holding his glass, motioning to where Aedan's own robe – a paler green than Zevran's, but otherwise quite similar – was waiting draped over the back of a chair nearby, a glass of brandy sitting waiting on the table beside it.
Aedan frowned for a moment, then at Zevran's lifted eyebrow turned away, feeling unaccountably self-conscious as he quickly stripped down and pulled on the robe. It was something that wouldn't have bothered him in the least if it had just been Zevran there, but he felt all too aware of the stranger in their room, in their bed. Only not quite a stranger; not to Zevran, anyway, who had taken the mage as a lover before. He shivered slightly as he picked up his own glass of brandy and took a sip of it, mind filled with the mental image of the two together, dark gold and light.
He turned and walked over to stand by the bed, pausing there, hesitant. Zevran rose to his knees, holding his glass carefully off to one side as his other hand knotted in the front of Aedan's robe, tugging him closer, pulling him down into a kiss, all warm lips and questing tongue and taste of brandy. He felt calmer when the elf released him, the kiss being such a familiar thing, and when Zevran settled back and patted the bedding beside him, lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed.
Zevran took his hand, lacing their fingers together as they both sipped at their drinks, and squeezed it reassuringly. "Tell me what you would like, my warden," he said, voice low and smooth. "What intrigues you most; the thought of Feynriel and I pleasuring each other while you watch? Both of us pleasuring you? Perhaps you'd like to take him, while I assist? Something else?"
His mouth went dry at the thought of so many options, of how much possibility there was in having a third body in their bed. He could feel his cock stirring, hardening in interest at the thoughts running through his head. It was easy to pick out what he'd fantasized about most, the times he hadn't been able to keep his thoughts off the young man. He took another sip of his brandy, almost a gulp, and felt his cheeks flushing. "Feynriel between us," he said, voice husky with more than the brandy. "While you pleasure him."
Feynriel's pale gold eyes flicked up to meet his for a moment, the mage's cheeks flushing darker.
Zevran grinned. "An excellent choice," he said warmly, and set aside his brandy glass, leaning over to lightly kiss Feynriel's cheek as he plucked the glass from the mage's hands. "Let me show my warden how beautiful you are," he whispered throatily, just loud enough for Aedan to hear the words as well; hear them, and feel intrigued and excited by the prospect.
"But first, let us get you arranged," Zevran said, turning back to Aedan, and chivvied him to the middle of the bed, leaning back against a tall pile of cushions at the head of the bed, legs spread enough that there was room for Feynriel to kneel between his shins, Zevran moving around to kneel behind the mage in turn.
Aedan swallowed the last of his brandy and leaned over to put aside his glass as well, then settled comfortably back against the cushions, studying the mage. He had his feet tucked neatly under him, his hands lying lax in his lap, head lowered once again. He didn't seem at all nervous; a little self-conscious maybe, yes, at least judging by his blush, but calm and composed, seeming almost passive as he waited for Zevran to make the next move.
Zevran's eyes briefly met Aedan's over the man's shoulder, then Zevran lowered his head, lips brushing softly against the back of Feynriel's neck as he pulled out the tie holding the mage's hair, freeing it to cascade down around his shoulders. Aedan's hands tightened just slightly on the covers of the bed; he'd always liked long hair, and Feynriel's hair was very long – almost waist-length – and looked as fine and soft as gossamer.
Zevran lifted a lock of it, pressing it briefly to his own lips as his eyes once again met Aedan's, an amused smile twitching at his lips for a moment; he knew what Aedan liked. Then he carefully grasped the collar of Feynriel's robe and drew it slowly open, pulling the silky fabric off the man's shoulders and letting it slide down his back and arms to pool around Feynriel's waist and across his lap, his forearms buried under the folds of soft fabric.
Aedan drew a single deeper breath, and held it for a moment. Zevran had mentioned the man was half-elven; it hadn't really shown before, but now, noting how narrow chested Feynriel was, not even a trace of hair visible on his arms or chest, and just the faintest hint of downy hair under his arms, he could see it. There was something about the shape of the ears, too… not pointed, as a full elf's ears would be, but certainly not quite as smoothly rounded as human ears, either. At a casual glance, fully human, but with a closer study, just slightly, exotically other.
Zevran, meanwhile, was letting his own robe slip open to the same degree, though he drew his own arms free of the enveloping cloth, leaving it kept on only by the belt around the waist of it. He slid his arms around Feynriel, hugging him, turning his head to kiss the side of the mage's face, then lifted one hand to guide Feynriel into turning his head as well, kissing him on the lips. Aedan could only stare, taken with the contrast between them – so similar in colouring, and yet so different. Zevran's dark gold skin looked all the darker compared to Feynriel's ivory complexion; his hair, which usually seemed so light, was almost brassy next to Feynriel's white-gold locks.
Aedan's own breathing deepened as he watched the two kissing; not once, but several times, each kiss longer, deeper. The blush on Feynriel's cheeks had turned to a rather decided flush, darkening the skin of his throat and upper chest too, and he was no longer just passively accepting the kiss, but leaning back against Zevran, his head tilting for a better angle, his lips and tongue working as well. His arms jerked once or twice, as if trying to reach for Zevran only to be stopped by the fabric of the robe. Feynriel was panting when Zevran finally settled back, holding the mage braced upright with a hand on each arm.
"Well done," Zevran said approvingly. "Now I would like you to kiss Aedan as well," he instructed.
Feynriel's head turned, his eyes meeting Aedan's, an evaluative look, without fear, then he rose up on his knees, leaving his arms trapped within his robe, and shuffled forward, managing what should have been an awkward act with a surprising amount of grace. His arms moved from across his lap to hanging at his sides as he moved forward, stretching the enveloping fabric of his robe taut enough to reveal a rather sizable bulge hidden under the layers of cloth.
Aedan moved, spreading his legs further and sitting up out of his reclining posture as the mage drew closer, making it easier for the man to reach him. Upright on his knees as he was, Feynriel's head was above Aedan's own; the mage had to bend down to kiss him. Used to being the tall one in any kiss, it was an intriguingly different experience to be the one looking upwards, tilting his head back and a little to one side to accommodate the other man.
The first kiss was tentative, both of them a little wary. The second was firmer, Feynriel leaning it into a little, his balance just a little unsteady on the yielding surface of the mattress. Aedan reached up to set his hands to either side of the man's waist, helping him to stay upright. His skin seemed almost hot to the touch from the spreading flush of arousal, and Feynriel moaned softly as Aedan's hands skimmed along his flanks, leaning further into the kiss, tongue probing gently at Aedan's lips. Aedan growled encouragement, opening his own mouth further, letting the mage taste him, then tasting him in return. He lifted one hand from the man's waist, twining his fingers into the mage's long hair, which felt just as silky-soft as it had looked. He was dimly aware of Zevran moving up behind Feynriel, the elf's hands skimming over Feynriel's body, then brushing gently over Aedan's arms and forearms, reaching between them to tug on the fabric of his robe, untying his belt and letting it fall open.
"Lie down again, Aedan," Zevran said when the kissing finally ended, one hand pushing firmly on his shoulder for a moment. He did so, watching while Zevran kissed and briefly petted Feynriel, whispering to him approvingly, drawing a happy smile from the mage, then guided him into turning around, and settling back against Aedan.
Aedan hesitantly shifted position, guided by light touches from Zevran, ending with his legs out before him, just slightly spread, with his arms around Feynriel, supporting the mage. Feynriel had his legs spread wide over Aedan's thighs, arms still caught in the fabric of his robe. Aedan's erection was trapped out of sight under Feynriel, tucked between his own stomach and Feynriel's naked buttocks, a position he was not at all adverse too.
Zevran had pulled his own robe back up, but removed his belt, letting it gape open, his cock jutting proudly forward from his groin, erect and moist-tipped, the head flushed dark with the elf's excitement. He moved to kneel between Aedan's legs, then carefully, almost delicately, folded back the layers of Feynriel's robe to expose the mage's erection as well. Aedan watched over the other man's shoulder, noticing how Feynriel's cock had just a small nest of short downy curls around its base; more than the faint velvety fuzz that coated Zevran's groin and balls, but nothing like the thick dark curls that Aedan himself had. He moved one hand down to brush his fingertips against the hair, fascinated by the difference in texture, causing Feynriel to startle slightly at the unexpected touch. The slight shift in position changed the pressure of the mage's buttocks against Aedan, startling a gasp out of him as his own cock hardened further in response. Zevran grinned briefly.
"This should be quite entertaining for all of us," he said, almost solemnly, then set his hands on Feynriel's thighs and leaned forward and down, flicking his tongue out to lick briefly at Feynriel's cock. It drew a gasp from the mage. Zevran lifted his head just long enough to give both of them a mischievous look, then lowered his head again, closing his lips around the head of the mage's cock.
Aedan found it fascinating to watch his lover sucking and licking at another man. Especially when his own arms were wrapped around that other man, hands busy exploring and caressing his so-warm flesh, and every shift of Feynriel's body in response to Zevran's busy lips and tongue or Aedan's questing hands made the mage's buttocks shift intriguingly against Aedan's own erection. He couldn't see all that Zevran was doing, the assassin's head and hair often obscuring his view, but he could very well imagine some of what Zevran was doing, from his own experience with that very talented mouth.
When one of Zevran's hands slid down off Feynriel's thigh and moved out of sight, he easily guessed what the elf was about to do, and found himself grinning when Feynriel suddenly gave a cry and arched backwards. He nuzzled into the man's hair, licking and nipping at his ear, and was pleasantly surprised when Feynriel craned his head around far enough to share a particularly heated kiss, crying out again as Zevran did increasingly exciting things down below.
After a few minutes of this Aedan found himself unable to remain still any longer, and braced his feet against the mattress, giving himself the leverage needed to roll his own hips a little, his erection sliding back and forth against Feynriel's buttocks, erratically at first with a little painful catching of flesh-against-flesh, then becoming a smoother glide as its path was slicked by Feynriel's sweat and Aedan's own pre-come. Zevran made an approving sound, his mouth too full of Feynriel to speak, and Feynriel jerked and cried out at the sensation, drawing a low cry in turn from Aedan. For a few minutes everything resolved down to the slide of flesh against flesh, the soft cries or moans or growls they were each making in their shared excitement.
He could tell when the mage came undone, feeling him tense and arch and try to thrust, not that he could move very freely with Aedan's arms wrapped tightly around him and Zevran holding down one of his thighs. Aedan growled and thrust harder up against him, biting down on the man's shoulder to muffle his outcry as he, too, came a few strokes later, his spend pulsing out to dampen his stomach and soak the back of Feynriel's robe.
Zevran was all over the two of them, murmuring appreciative, approving words as he gently disentangled them, helped the mage out of his stained robe, wiped them both clean, and got all three of them settled together in bed, Aedan between the other two men. Zevran leaned over him towards Feynriel, pushing the mage's long sweat-soaked hair back from his face with obvious affection before kissing him, a single rather lengthy and very thorough kiss. Then he moved to kiss Aedan in turn, smiling broadly for a moment, and looking very pleased about how things had gone. Aedan hugged him as well as he could with just the one arm, his other arm still wrapped around Feynriel's shoulders. Zevran's mouth tasted different than usual, of brandy and a musky saltiness that must be Feynriel, and Aedan found the difference, the knowledge of what that taste was, surprisingly exciting. When Feynriel moved to kiss him once Zevran was done, he enjoyed it more than he earlier would have thought possible. It felt… nice. Very nice; comfortable and comforting, and just the right way to acknowledge the closeness and pleasure they had just shared. Having the two men snuggled up against either side of him, their arms draped across his chest, heads resting on his shoulders, was a very nice and comforting feeling as well.
"We need to do something about you, too," he pointed out, nodding to where Zevran's erection was pressed against his thigh.
Zevran's grin widened. "I'm sure the three of us can think of something to do with it," he said agreeably. "Once we've rested a little bit. Though not too long a rest, as I know you have little need of one. Perhaps if we work hard at it, Feynriel and I might even be able to tire you out, yes?"
Aedan laughed softly, and grinned as he settled back against the cushions. Perhaps this might work out after all, he found himself thinking.