Rating: T / R / FRM
Pairing: Pogue/Caleb/Tyler/Reid
Word Count: 463
Name
His name was Pogue. Everyone knew this. His friends, his enemies, his tutors; they all called him Pogue. There was no question about it; when people introduced him it was always 'This is Pogue'. Even his own mother referred to him as Pogue, when she was lucid enough.
But it wasn't his real name.
His real name hadn't been used for years. In fact, Pogue could tell you the exact day when he stopped being...when he stopped being him and started being Pogue. He was eight years old and he didn't understand at the time. He just thought his dad had gone away for a while. As each year passed, he finally got the idea. His father wasn't coming home. His father wasn't ever coming home. His mother had been the one to start calling him Pogue, saying it was something his grandmother had said before she died. From there it stuck.
It was an unspoken rule within the Covenant to never call Pogue by his real name. They learned it was the fastest way to get on Pogue's bad side, and he could hold a grudge for a very long time.
But they also learned that it was the fastest way to get him off too.
"Christopher."
He shivered, letting the smooth timbre of Caleb's voice flow over his skin. Two sets of lips trailed down his chest, leaving soft kisses and sharp bites in their wake.
"Christopher."
He moaned as Reid hissed his name into his ear. He felt the still gloved hands stroke along his hands, feeling the difference between the skin of Reid's fingers and the rough wool across his palm.
"Christopher."
He cried out when Tyler's mouth closed over his erection. Even with his eyes closed, he knew it was the youngest of the four that had sucked him down. The talented mouth moved up and down steadily, tongue sliding over the head every so often, making Pogue arch and moan.
"Christopher, Christopher, Christopher." Christopher, Christopher, Christopher.
His name, said aloud and in his mind, like a mantra. The Power slid over him as hands and mouths pushed him higher and higher, his name surrounding him and caressing him like velvet. He writhed and moaned and cried out, but three pairs of arms and legs held him steady. His mind was filled with the three of them; whispering curses and blessings across his consciousness.
The cacophony of noise peaked, taking Pogue up and letting him fall over the edge. He screamed and released into Tyler's waiting mouth, shuddering uncontrollably as he swallowed and licked him clean. Six hands petted and stroked him down from his high and three bodies curled around his own.
To everyone else he was Pogue, but to his boys he would always be Christopher.