[Not] Storm Large

Jingle All the Way

Fri, 25 Dec 2009 10:59:40 GMT

"It's officially Christmas," Storm notes from where she's curled up against Tim's chest. Their boy will be back tomorrow (later today!) from his parents, so whaddya know, it's just the two of them. She looks up from where she'd been staring at the fire to look at her schmoopy-poo (ha!). "Merry X-mas, honey." Real Christmas waits for Patrick to get back, but this, even Storm has to admit, is damned nice.

"Merry Christmas, lady." Tim ducks his head to kiss Storm, and it kind of feels like when Aleece's mom would take Xavier, before Quentin was born, and they'd have the house to themselves. "I got a couple of Mama presents for you, for us to try out while Patrick's at his parents' place. You want to play naughty, or nice?" A palm runs over her hair, blonde again, not like the pink it had been when they'd met. Secretly, Tim liked the pink, shut up. It made her look like candy, okay? And hello, om nom all over that! "You look a little warm. Maybe you should take your clothes off."

Oh, really. One of Storm's eyebrows arch and she looks at him, making sure. Yeah, he's sure. So, she uncurls herself and stands in front of him, halo'd by the fire and starts to pull off her t-shirt and yoga pants - she's not wearing anything underneath. "Your choice, Timmy." She does naughty and nice equally well.

"Goddamn, woman. Look at you." Tim leans back on the couch and appraises Storm, the way the gas fireplace is just as good as the real thing in the way it illuminates her, long-limbed and skin so creamy Tim would seriously consider playing tomcat and licking her clean. Hell, doesn't he do that anyway? But then there are her tattoos: the piece across the back of her hips, let's not forget how hot it is to come on it, right? Right! And 'Lover' across her shoulders. And that's what she is, to Tim. "Bend over, luscious. I've got a toy for you." But it means he has to get up and truck off to the bedroom, coming back with one of those vibrating eggs. But! Check it! In his other hand? The remote. He licks the egg to make it slick. Like he really needs to, tch.

"Ooh, yeah, daddy." Storm sees that and is happy to bend over, long legs spread, hair falling, ass exposed and ready for him. See, here's the thing. Tim is majorly awesome; Storm really does love him. He gets it, see, that life doesn't have to be too serious; that there can be fun and assholes who take themselves too seriously are just that: assholes. She fucking wrote a song about her vagina being eight miles wide for fuck's sake. Lighten up, people! She wraps her hands around her knees and closes her eyes. "Give it to me, daddy."

Tim laughs and pushes the egg into her pussy with two fingers, using his other hand to flick at her clit. "You realize that you're like, ridiculously, stupidly hot, right? And that I could seriously do something like this..." Where he bends Storm over just a little further, licking at where he'd just pushed the egg. "...for hours at a time. But you've gotta be a good girl to deserve that one, babe." Her asscheek gets a pinch before Tim sits back and hits the power on the remote. Just a low buzz, to start. He'll light her up like the Christmas tree, later.

Even on low, Storm hums when she feels it come on. Hands braced on her knees, she lets her eyes close. "I'm always good," she mumbles out. "You know that." The pinch sets her hips to swaying and she cups her boobs, pinching the nipples as she swings her hair out of her face.

Setting the remote aside, Tim runs his hands down the backs of Storm's legs, watching the subtle twitches in her muscles and the not so subtle way she tweaks her tits. "Oh, honey, you move like a stripper, sing like a siren and fuck like the devil. I'm almost tempted to put music on and see how that works for you." Before he gets up, though, he licks her from front to back, giving her a nip on the ass before putting the stereo on. It's Christmas music on the radio, but at this point, who gives a shit?

At least it's "Santa Baby," because fuck if Storm is going to dirty dance to freaking "Silent Night." Of course, the vibrator doesn't make it easy to be as saucy as she would like to be. But she turns, playing the coquette, her hands on her knees, mouth pooched out to blow kisses. She slides her hands up her torso to cup the boobs, to pinch her nipples. Hey, Santa Baby!

Tim whistles and claps, smacking her ass when she turns around, and when she holds those awesome ta-ta's, he reaches for the remote again, setting the speed up a little higher. "You're a naughty girl, aren't you. Do you want Daddy to fuck you? Take you where you're so tight, and leave the vibe in you to drive you nuts?" He blows kisses back to her, his posture loose, comfortable, both friend and lover in one. "Or do you want to wait for Patrick to get home so he can lick you out?"

"Mama wants both," Storm purrs. "You love to fuck my ass, Daddy. Baby boy can do whatever he wants when he gets here, huh?" Even as goosebumps race over skin, she swings her hips, turning to thrust her very fine ass in Tim's face, mouthing along with the words of the song. Don't even get her started on how wicked-awesome this shit is with Tim and Patrick; it's wicked cool.

The cheeks of that very fine ass end up in each of Tim's hands, and he holds her apart, admiring how pink her pussy is, how soft. His hands are big enough that with the slightest adjustment, he can skim the tips of his thumbs against her. "Fuckin' hot, seriously. Look at you." His cock his hard (natch!), and Tim turns Storm around so she's facing him. "Wanna ride me, hottie?"

"Oooh, yeah. You want my ass, Daddy? Or my wet, vibey pussy cat on your dick, huh?" Leaning a little bit forward, Storm can run her hands through Tim's hair, tilting his chin back so she can kiss him, licking over his mouth (dirrrrrty!) before sucking on his tongue.

"Me and the kid are going to double-team you when he gets back," Tim murmurs, a hand in Storm's hair and another between her legs. "I say with the vibe. I'll be careful. I wanna feel it on the head of my dick." Kisses, hot and open with a lot of tongue (his favourite, don't tell), and Tim pulls back, heavy-eyed, crooked-smiled. "You tell me what you want." For once.

Oh, see, Storm is a savvy lady, see. She knows that Tim knows how to get her off like a fucking rocket. "Just don't get the fucking thing stuck in my uterus and we're good to go, Daddy-O." That deserves another tit squeeze, for show! "Show me the pretty cock, yeah?"

Woof. She kind of makes Tim feel like a wolf in one of those old cartoons, with the steam coming out his ears, the steamwhistle, the buggy eyes, awoo-awoo-awoooo! He unzips his jeans and pushes them down his hips. "C'mere, baby, I'm gonna take you so slow." He eases Storm down on him, just a couple of inches for now, rumbling out a sound in his chest when he bumps against the vibe. "Shit, lady, you're amazing."

"You call the toy 'lady'?" Storm teases, but it comes out all gurgly and breathless. "Jesus." Her fingers dig into the cords of the muscles of Tim's shoulders. "How's it feel on that awesome cock-head, Daddy? Feel like it's buzzing your spine? We should get a butt plug for the baby boy, huh? Ooh!" Oh, fuck, right there. That's ... that's her G-spot right there. Storm throws her head back and keens out a sound. "Shit!"

"You are my lady," Tim grins, rocking his hips in little thrusts so it doesn't overwhelm Storm, or worse yet, hurt her. A little pain is always fun, and sometimes a lot of pain is fun if it's done right, but this has nothing to do with pain at all. This is about getting his hot girl off as hard as he can. His hands bracket her ribs, easing her up and down, and he watches the way sensations flicker across her face like lightning.

She's so fucking easy. She's never, ever felt guilty about how quick she can get off. In fact, she's loved being multiorgasmic. And this is no exception. When she comes, it's like a fucking earthquake from inside and it hits her so hard that she shouts with it, nails dragging across Tim's shoulders. "Fuck me!"

"Ouch?!" Tim grabs both of her hands and holds them tight in his, letting her nails bite into the backs of his hands instead of his shoulders. "I can't do it hard, babe, but I can do this." A kiss to the back of each hand before he spans her waist, rocking her up and down on him, and Tim leans forward to tug one of her nipples in his teeth. The buzz is starting to get to him; against her skin, his breath his hot and sharp, and he leaves a vibrant hickey just below Storm's collarbone.

The buzz gets to both of them. And when they finally get done, they're both sweaty, both a little smelly and the damned blanket (and the sofa, for that matter) is too short. Plus, they're both big enough that Storm has to kind of lie over Tim rather than next to him. There are legs everywhere, arms, too. Patrick opens the door to see this. He grins as he drops his bag and shrugs off his coat so he can hang it up. Then he kneels next to the sofa and pushes the hair off of Storm's face. She snorfles out a sound, rubbing her nose on Tim's shoulder before settling again.

Patrick moves Storm's hair, but when she moves, Tim's hand comes up to the back of her head, as if settling her in his own way. In the soupy three-quarters-asleep state he's in, it takes him a minute to realize that there are three of them, and he blinks his eyes open. "Hey. Sunshine. Merry Christmas." Patrick's the next one to get Tim's touch, the backs of his knuckles against 'trick's jaw. "How's your family, kid?"

"Merry Christmas," Patrick answers, his smile bright. "They're great. They want to meet you guys." It had been an ... interesting ... discussion with his parents, but an important one. "I'm glad to be back. I missed you." Even as he says that, he pets over Storm's hair again; she's snoring lightly under her breath.

"You told them about this?" Wow. Wow. Patrick can see how impressed Tim is with this admission, and Tim pulls Patrick in by the back of the neck for a sleepy kiss. "Missed you, too. Me and Mama-Bear were talking about you last night. You wanna wake her up? I gotta seriously go for a dip in some Irish Spring, and I think my legs are numb."

"I'll help you get up," Patrick tells him, laughing. He cards Storm's hair behind her ear again and leans in to kiss her cheek. "I'm home, mom," he says, even though she's slow to stir (she sleeps like the dead).

"Hey, baby boy," she murmurs when she finally surfaces. "You're back."

"Yep. And you're making Dad's legs numb."

"Fuck him," Storm says as she laughs up at Tim.

"Nobody fucks me," Tim grins, giving Storm's head a shove. She's awake now, she can handle it. "Get off me, you lummox. I gotta shower so I'm not completely fuckin' repulsive, okay? And we gotta vid-chat with the monsters and Aleece soon. Soon? What time is it, Sunshine?"

"It's 10:24," Patrick says in consulting his watch. "Do you want me to make some breakfast?"

Groaning as she sits upright, though not without pressing on Tim's bladder as she does, Storm runs her hands through her hair, unselfconscious that she's naked. "Coffee would be fantastic, baby. Give mama a kiss." She cups Patrick's chin.

Leaning in smiling, Patrick kisses her, before he offers Tim a hand to stand. "Are you okay?"

"You are an asshole," Tim points out to Storm, grabbing up his shorts to hop into with one hand, and taking Patrick's with the other. When he stands, it's to nearly keel over, laughing, and Tim holds on while stamping his feet against the floor. "Yeah, kiddo. Get some breakfast going, eggs, maybe? Jeez, I gotta whiz so bad, thanks." Storm gets one of her nipples pinched before Tim staggers off to the bathroom, trying to get his feet to wake up.

Making sure he gets there, Patrick grins over at Storm before going to make breakfast. Eggs and bacon and some fruit to cut up. This gives Storm a chance to pad after Tim and try to steal his hot water under the shower before she shrugs one of Tim's sweatshirts and some soft pants. She's on the counter in the kitchen when Tim comes in. It's just as Patrick is plating stuff up.

"Toast should be ready too," he tells them. "I'm just really glad to be back."

Tim's still got a towel wrapped around his waist, and his hair hangs shaggy and damp-dark, just past his shoulders. "That looks like a masterpiece." Patrick gets a kiss to the side of his neck, grabbing the toast when it pops to bring it to the table. "I'm starving, honestly. Me and the lady were up pretty late last night. I don't even know how we ended up with a blanket, even." He nods for Patrick to sit down with them. "We're really glad to see you, too. Tell me what you talked to your parents about."

Storm plants herself on Tim's lap for the talk, her arm loose around his neck. "We got the blanket cuz I got it for us." Duh. But what's this about talking?

"Um." Pulling his plate up close to his elbow, Patrick shifts his eggs around his plate. "My parents were asking me who I was seeing, right? Not if I was seeing someone but who... And ... " He shrugs, looking up at both Storm and Tim. "I ... didn't feel like I could just talk about one of you. It's not like that. So, I mean, I left out some stuff, like ... the kinkier stuff and that kind of thing." And the names he calls them, of course. "But I told them that you guys make me happy and that I love you and that I hoped they understood? Which ... I'm pretty sure they didn't, but at least I didn't lie, you know?"

"Yeah, I don't think anyone really needs to know all the ways we get you naked," Tim grins, curling an arm around Storm's waist. "Wow, I'm really proud of you for being open about it. What we've got isn't something that everyone's got, and not everyone can do. I think we're doing pretty good so far, huh?" Tightening his arm so he doesn't jar Storm off his legs, Tim leans over to skim his fingers through Patrick's hair. "You did the right thing. Eat your eggs before they get cold. And we love you, too."

"Damn." Storm's a little slow to respond, since she's staring at Patrick with her mouth hanging open. "... you totally told your parents? How did I not notice your balls were the size of Texas, dude?!" After giving Tim a kiss, she slides from his lap over to Patrick's, snuggling up to him. "And they weren't mean to you, were they? Cuz I'll kick ass."

"They weren't mean to me," Patrick answers with a grin. "I promise. 'As long as you're happy,' they said. And I am."

"Such a good boy. Jesus Christ." Storm cups his face and kisses him, squeezing his cheeks so he looks like a chipmunk. "He deserves a reward, Daddy."

"I want to meet 'em, Sunshine. You said they want to meet us, and we're gonna." Tim tips his head to the side, watching the picture that Storm and Patrick make together, how Patrick's grin is so bright, and how enthusiastic Storm is. "What do you think he deserves, babe? Something naughty or something nice?" They'd tossed a few ideas back and forth before falling asleep about what to do with Patrick when he got home. "You wanna boss him around, Storm? Or do you want to stick him in the middle?"

"Hmmm." Carding her fingers through Patrick's short hair, Storm smiles at him. "I think ... baby boy should have whatever he wants. But ... we should wait till after we talk to your kidlets, Papa Bear. So tell us what you want, mm?" Patrick gets another kiss. It's not an easy question, she knows, since he doesn't ask for much. At all. Ever.

"Um... " Hands on Storm's thighs, Patrick ponders this, feeling his cheeks heat. "Um ... whatever you guys want, really. That's -- it's all good."

"We're gonna talk to him as soon as I get some clothes on. It's 6:30 there right now and they're gonna have to start getting ready for bed soon." Quentin, definitely. Xavier'll probably convince Aleece to stay up an extra hour. "So think about it, Patrick, huh? What do you want? Could be something we've done or something we haven't." He puts his breakfast away in short order because he's not only hungry, but Patrick's a really good cook. Even if it's just eggs! His little smile at Storm tells her that he's glad she's getting Patrick to choose what he wants.

So, while Tim and Storm are talking to Tim's kids (which makes Patrick feel a little strange, no lie), he cleans up the kitchen and finishes his breakfast and he tries to just think of what he wants. Because he meant it. He loves everything they do. All of it. In fact, he gets a little hard just thinking about it as he finishes wiping down the table.

Tim doesn't call for him when they're done, but comes into the kitchen instead to give Patrick a smack on the ass, instead. "Thanks for cleaning up, huh? You do so much around here as it is, and you're gonna be busy with your movies and shit, so don't worry about it, okay? You wanna come into the sunroom and tell us what you came up with?" The nice thing about actually having a house is the scenery. The privacy doesn't hurt, either, when the sunroom is all polarized glass on the outside, giving the illusion of wide open space from the inside. It's great at night, but right now the room is bright.

"Um, yeah, sure." Patrick hangs up the towel he was using and just kind of looks up at Tim in that way he does; a little bit worshipful, a little bit in awe, a little dazzled. "Um, Dad?"

"What's up?" Tim drapes his arm across Patrick's shoulders before letting his hand slide down to cup Patrick's ass again. "You okay?" If Patrick's parents don't approve of this, for real, or are going to give Patrick shit about it, well... Tim's got a wake-up call in store. Just in case.

"Yeah, no, I'm great, I just ... " Sheesh, one of these days Patrick won't blush at the drop of a hat. "I'm really glad to be back. I just ... I really missed you guys." And he does something he doesn't do very often. He plants his hands on Tim's shoulders and he leans up and kisses him.

Tim ducks so it's easier, a hand on the back of Patrick's neck and the other on his ribs, but other than that, he lets Patrick take the control in it, how deep he wants it to be, where he wants it to lead. We missed you too, he'd say, except, well, kissing. His hand slides up into Patrick's hair.

It leaves Patrick breathless, it always does. When he finally falls back to his feet, he doesn't let go of Tim. "... I just want to be with you. With both of you. I just want to be with you and touching and ... that's what I want."

And that's it. Simple and oddly romantic, and Tim nods before ducking for one more kiss. Then he turns Patrick toward the sunroom, calling for Storm to come with them, because Sunshine's made up his mind.

The sun is warm, even as chilly as it gets in LA. They can spread blankets out on the floor and pile up their clothes and then Patrick can ask Storm and Tim to lie back so he can crawl over and between them. He can touch, fingers trailing over bare skin, slowly, watching his fingers over their stomachs, their chests. It feels decadent and hedonistic.

Her head cocked, watching their boy and feeling fucking special and gorgeous and shit. She rests her hand over Tim's on Patrick's thigh. See, she's a closet (deep closet) romantic; this is fucking nice.

It's worship in the finest sense, and Tim can't help but watch back and forth between the way Patrick touches Storm, and how Storm reacts. She is special, they both are, and his own erection is entirely secondary to all of this. An afterthought. He turns his hand over so he can lace his fingers into Storm's, Mama and Dad holding onto Patrick while he explores. It makes Tim feel settled and secure and confident in himself, and this thing he shares with Patrick and Storm.

"I'm really lucky," Patrick says and he's unaware he's echoing thoughts of someone else. "That's what I thought the whole time I was away. How lucky I am." He gives them both a smile. By leaning up, he can kiss Storm and then kiss Tim and it's different each time and that's part of what makes it so amazing. His hand slides down Tim's torso, then wraps around his cock and he strokes slowly.

"You're not the only one, baby," Storm says, an arm behind her head. "This is one sweet deal here. No doubt about it."

His erection was secondary! But Tim gets up on an elbow to look down his body at Patrick's fingers, then up to Patrick's face. "I don't want you to ever think that you're less than us, okay? We just have different roles. You can ask for anything you want, anytime." He beckons Patrick forward to catch him by the back of his neck, pulling him forward into a kiss that's all Tim's, hot and open, before letting him go to... do whatever he wants. It's strange, taking a passive role like this. But it's nice.

When Patrick leans back, he's breathless, licking his lips, his erection brushing Tim's leg. "... I know. I ... I don't need anything. I have everything."

"He's ... dude, there's nobody like you. You realize that, right?" Storm grins, going up on an elbow of her own. "You're supposed to be a dick sometimes. When're you gonna start being a dick?"

"I don't want to be a dick," Patrick tells her, laughing as he reaches to cover one of her breasts with his hand. "I'm just me."

"You're great the way you are." It's Tim's turn to touch Patrick, not stroke him, really, but just rub his thumb against the underside of the head of Patrick's cock. The spread of Patrick's palm on Storm's breast seems just right, as much a perfect fit as his own, bigger palm would be. "Baby, I know. I don't know how you found him, but... wow." He's looking at Patrick as he speaks to Storm. "I'm waiting for him to bust out some kind of temper." And Tim laughs.

"You don't have to say that," Patrick demurs, feeling his face heat yet again. "I'm not going to ... I don't have any reason to." He reaches between Storm's legs. "Can I?"

"Of course, baby. Whatever you want." Reaching up, Storm touches his face. "Come to mama."

"Then I want ... " Patrick turns to Tim. "I ... it feels greedy," he admits with a laugh. "I want to ... will you? In me?"

"Yeah," Tim grins. Wait. Does Patrick just mean sex, or does he mean, like, serious sex, without condoms? Because Tim and Storm have just started going without, and if that's what Patrick wants, well... that's what he'll get. "Don't feel greedy for asking for what you want. Ever. You want me to touch you while you're with Mama?"

Nodding, Patrick kneels between Storm's legs. She's got such great legs. and he looks at her with that same kind of wonder as he looks at Tim. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, baby. Of course it is." Looking over at Tim for a moment, Storm smiles. Makes sense, doesn't it? To be like this? Serious shit, but fitting.

"Thank you," Patrick whispers, almost reverently, as he guides himself inside.

Tim doesn't even need to give his approval, because this is Storm's body and she can do with it what she wants. "You want us at the same time, Sunshine, or one and then the other?" He moves up behind Patrick, hands sitting on his boy's waist so he can lean down to kiss the side of his neck. A hand slides down the inside of Patrick's thigh, between he and Storm, thumb and finger bracketing the base of Patrick's cock.

Shuddering, hard, Patrick shakes his head. "One, then the other, please," he tells them, though it comes out jerky and breathless. "I ... Oh, God, you're so wet," he whispers, leaning down his head resting in Storm's neck. Her arms come around him and she rubs his back, reaching to touch Tim as well.

"I got you, baby. Don't worry; Mama's got you." She kisses his temple as she watches Tim, a smile in her eyes and on her face. This is her fucking family. Yeah.

The tone of Patrick's voice makes something twist in Tim's guts, and he realizes that he's never felt anything like that before. Some kind of hot mix of possession, of want, of pride, love and desire, and after squeezing Storm's fingers, he runs his hand up and down Patrick's back, just like Storm. "Enjoy it," he whispers against Patrick's hair, only touching, a passive participant. But Patrick can feel, now and then, the sweep of Tim's cock against his skin as he moves, touching here and kissing there.

It all combines this totally heady experience that leaves Patrick more feeling than thinking, more moving by his body's instinct that with calculated thought. He keeps his head in the crux of Storm's neck, kissing skin there, feeling how she moves around and under him, how wet she is, how warm. Tim's fingers keep him alert enough; wondering where he'll touch next, feeling that shiver. "Thank you," he murmurs repeatedly. "Oh, God, thank you."

"Such a good boy," Storm croons, nails digging in a little to his back when they hit the just-right spot. "Shit." The zings of pleasure start to shoot through her. "Yeah. That's right."

From here, Tim just kind of sits back and watches, and there's something really gratifying about it, seeing how Patrick knows how to work Storm's body as well as Tim does. She's got the benefit, really, between playful and raunchy and fun with Tim, and worshipful and sweet and beautiful (yes, he called it beautiful) with Patrick. "That's right," he echoes, sitting back on his calves, hands resting flat on the tops of his thighs. "Make her come, Sunshine. Make her feel sexy."

Thankfully, it's so easy and good. And when Patrick feels her buck under him and that prompts him to speed up and deepen his thrusts. He's not going to come; he doesn't want to, yet, but his body tells him to move.

Storm comes again, arching up off the floor. "Yeah! Shit. Yeah." She draws red lines down Patrick's back with her nails before she lies back, hair splayed out under her. "Fuck, yeah," she murmurs, cheeks flushed.

Patrick kisses her, resting entirely on her; she's warm and makes him feel safe, even like this. Then he pulls out slowly, feeling the tug of her body. He doesn't want to leave, not ever. But he faces Tim, then. "Please?"

"C'mere," is all Tim says, pulling Patrick up against him. Then one hand is on Patrick's chest, the others' fingers licked slick so he can ease Patrick open. This is supposed to be easy and decadent, and Tim tries to keep it that way, holding Patrick's back against his chest, kissing the side of his throat, tasting the exertion on his skin that comes from being with Storm. He can smell her on him, and that's fucking hot, okay? "How'd she feel?" he whispers into Patrick's ear, feeling how Patrick reacts, how his body moves, even the breathes he takes.

"She always feels amazing," Patrick tells him, leaning back, head back on Tim's shoulder, eyes slitted as he watches her, where she lies there, smiling at them, pinching her nipples.

"Daddy's gonna fill you up, huh, baby-boy? Gonna show you how good he can make you feel, huh." She rolls to her knees, leaning in to kiss him, then Tim, before sitting back on her haunches. "My boys are so fuckin' hot. Jesus. Merry-Fucking-Christmas."

Tim cups the back of Storm's head briefly, giving her a smug grin when he pulls back. They are fuckin' hot, he and Patrick, just like any combination of them is. He murmurs something to Storm about grabbing the lube from the bedroom, and then his attention is completely back on Patrick, sliding his hand down to circle his cock and stroke it as he stretches him out.

When Storm comes back, she can hear the change in the timbre of Patrick's sounds, how they're louder, now, more depraved. She opens the tube and gestures for Tim's hand so she can squirt it on. When that's done, she can take one of baby boy's fingers and suck on it, grinning around it as she does.

"Oh, God," Patrick moans, clenching around Tim's finger. It's so ... much. So amazing and so much and he can't get a grip on it. All he can do is hope that he doesn't mess it up. He tries really hard not to.

One finger turns to two, and two to three, and Tim's teeth worry against the back of Patrick's shoulder before he asks, "You ready for me, Sunshine?" He's ready, and for a second, he worries about where the condoms are, and then realizes how serious this actually is. Fingers are pulled back and Tim pushes Patrick forward enough that it's easy to sheathe himself in Patrick's body, an inch, a push, a breath at a time. "Watch this, Stormy. He's been so good at gettin' you off, now it's his turn."

"Pretty boy." It comes out sing-song too, but Storm can't help it around her baby-boy and Papa Bear. "Feels good, doesn't it," she asks, cupping Patrick's face, leaning up so that they're practically nose to nose. "Daddy's got the best cock."

"Mmm- hmm." It almost sounds pained if the bliss in Patrick's eyes weren't plainly obvious. "Oh, God." He reaches back with one hand, holding to Tim's thigh. "Thank you."

"Kiss her," Tim instructs, putting his hand down over Patrick's. "We're gonna take care of everything you need. Everything you want." His voice has gone low and rough, not for wanting to demand anything out of Patrick, but because 'trick always feels so good. Tim groans against Patrick's hair, knowing Storm's so close by the way his hand brushes against her skin as he jerks Patrick off. When the rock of his hips is easier, he takes Patrick just a little harder, deeper, with a snap on the end that jars Sunshine. Let's hear you, kiddo.

Bracing himself with one hand on Tim's leg, the other hand on Storm's shoulder, Patrick rides it like he leaned to ride horses in summer camp when he was a kid, moving with the rocking. Of course, summer camp was never like this; a pleasure so deep that it stuns him. As directed, he kisses Storm, her mouth soft when Tim's is rough. Together, they're perfect.

Taking Patrick's hands, Storm holds him steady, forearm to forearm, deepening the kiss, her knees to his. Fuck, she wishes she had a camera, because this shit is gorgeous.

It's all about balance, baby! Storm's gorgeous and soft and girly, Tim's hot shit, hard as a rock, a dude and proud of it. "I'm gonna make him come on you," he murmurs to Storm, sandwiching Patrick between them so he can kiss along her collarbone. A push to the small of Patrick's back changes the angle just barely, but it's enough that he pushes against Patrick's prostate.

And it's enough to get Patrick crying out again, face creased and tight with it. He is; he's going to come all over Storm's belly and that's so ... it's so sexy that it makes it even harder for him to breathe. "Please, can I --?" His voice is high and tight. "Can -- I?"

"Yeah, baby, yeah." Storm leans back, giving him more of a view and more skin to shoot at and she laces their fingers together. "Hold on and come on me, baby-boy. C'mon. Give it to mama. Give it to me."

It doesn't take long at all, barely another couple of minutes before he does just that, cock jerking, painting stripes of milky white over her stomach. "Oh, God, thank you. Thank you, oh, God, thank you!"

It's funny, Tim almost feels selfish for still wanting to come, after seeing Patrick and Storm together, and then this. But it feels like the movement of his body is like fire, and with the grab of Patrick's body around him, he's so close. "Patrick, I'm gonna." Because there's no condom there, the safety is between the three of them and that's it. What happens here stays here. "Patrick." Insistent, and for once, needing someone else's permission.

"Tell him yes, baby. Let him come in you. Gonna feel so good." Storm loves the messiness of it, to be honest. Loves when things get sticky. She figures she's found her soul mate anyway - he does her when she's on the rag. Talk about a fucking mess. She loves it.

Patrick nods, staring at Storm, who's so beautiful. "Yeah. Yeah. Please." It nearly hurts of course, because he's just come, but it feels so good too. So close and so intimate. Yes, please. Yes, please.

What's the fun in sex if it doesn't get messy?! Tim nods sharply, and that's all, just hearing Patrick say please like that, tight and breathy, and Tim's hips shudder up against Patrick's ass, coming in deep, hot pulses that are mirrored in the way his muscles tense, and the way one hand stays on Patrick's stomach while the other grasps out for Storm. "Oh shit, oh fuck." Good boy.

"Oh, yeah, Daddy, yeah," Storm nearly crows, doing the best she can to get her arms around both men. "Yeah, that's right. He's our boy now, isn't he? That's right. Belongs to us and Mama and Daddy are gonna take such good care of our good boy. Fuck, yeah."

Oh. Oh. It's ... so good. It's -- Patrick can't even figure out a way to describe it. Maybe blessed, but that sounds almost hokey. But it's how he feels. Intimately connected and so loved that his eyes sting. So he shuts them - no need to embarrass himself! - as he leans into Storm's embrace.

After a moment, Tim eases back and free of Patrick's body, but not far enough that he can't wrap his arms around Patrick's middle. Sunshine's leaning on Storm and Tim's holding him secure. "You okay, kiddo?" One arm is unraveled to reach around Storm, too, hand against her ribs. Tim's girl, Tim's boy. Yes, they're his fucking family, as much as Aleece and Quentin and Xavier, and Tim realizes that he likes the responsibility of it. "Love you guys."

"Love you too, Papa Bear, and Baby boy, too." Storm kisses all over Patrick's face, hugging him tighter as she hums a little. It's okay. It's okay.

"I'm great," Patrick whispers and it's a little hoarse, but he's getting to where he can pull himself together. "Really great. This was ... it was amazing. Thank you."

"I think clothes are in order. And looking after this one." Patrick gets a nudge followed by a kiss on the back point of his jaw, near his ear. "I'll make dinner tonight, and you," Patrick, "are just going to enjoy it." He lets out a low sigh before lumbering to his feet. "Gonna get you a drink, kid. You want something, hot stuff?" Tim stretches in pops and cracks, and only after running his hands through his hair does he realize that one of them... isn't exactly clean. "Oh goddammit."

"Dude, you have come in your hair. You fuckin' have come in your hair. How so classy?!" Storm is chortling, still cuddling Patrick to her chest. "I'll take some water, though, Jizz-head." Yeah, she's gonna get it for that, but come on.

Smiling, but not laughing, oh no! Patrick looks up at Tim. "Thanks." For the water. And for everything.

"Asshole," Tim grins, going into the bathroom first to dunk his head in the shower and rinse it out. Seriously, what is this, Something About Mary? Honestly. Then he hits the kitchen, grabbing a trio of cold water bottles and heading back to the sunroom. "Didja miss me? I missed me. You seriously okay, Sunshine? That... was kind of a lot to spring on you. And we made a promise to keep you safe." He curls easily into sitting cross-legged, and he pets a palm down Patrick's back.

"I'm good. Really." Patrick turns to give him a warm, sated smile from where he's lying with his cheek on Storm's thigh. "I'm glad to be home is all." Where it feels like he belongs.

"We missed our boy." Carding through his hair, Storm looks over at Tim, eyes saying what she doesn't. That taking care of their boy is just right right now, to make sure he's okay. "We gotta do presents, too."

Lids are twisted off and after a long drink of his own water, Tim leans down to kiss Patrick. And also, hey there, Storm's hot leg! Sup! It gets a kiss too, and a bite for calling him Jizz-Head. Biatch. "We'll do presents this afternoon, huh? I'm kind of ready to slug back another couple of hours of sleep with the both of you." What, it's what a California King is for! It also helps when the two people who sleep in it most are over six feet tall, too! "C'mon Sunshine. I'm in the mood to be mushy."

Mushy sounds great. Patrick gets to his feet and they both help Storm up and then they can cuddle in the bed and it's the best present he can ask for, if he were to ask for anything.

Post Premiere

Thu, 03 Dec 2009 01:04:29 GMT

[At the premiere of Brothers, Warning for breathplay]

There'd been a red carpet and cameras and some interviews, though Storm and Tim weren't asked any questions, they just had a few pictures taken and got to have the free cheap champagne inside. But Patrick got to run the whole gamut before he went into the theater. Then it was the screening and the after party and so it was nearly 11 before Patrick pulls into the driveway of Tim's house and parks in his spot and he's still kind of jangly from all the excitement of it, really. And he wants to know what Tim and Storm thought, honestly. If they liked the movie, if they thought he did a good job, all that kind of stuff. So he comes in, making sure to shut and lock the doors and set the alarm and all that and he's seeking them out as he loosens his tie, finding them, thankfully, in the living room on the sofa. "Hey," he says, grinning. He can crawl onto the sofa and rest his head in Storm's lap. "What'd you guys think?"

"You were awesome, baby," Storm says, fingers carding through his hair. "My big movie star. I was really proud of you, actually! Did you hear me when you came on screen?"

The cat call. Patrick grins as he looks up at her. He'd been sitting on the other side of Tim from her. And he'd blushed like crazy.

"Our baby boy did good, huh, Dad?" Storm grins over at Tim. "We should give him a reward."

"I think that if he came on screen, you'd come in your panties, babe." Tim grins, hooking an arm around Storm's shoulders. "You were awesome, Sunshine. Listen to her, huh? 'I was really proud.' I'm proud of you, too." His shirt and tie are off, tattoos almost visible through the thin white cotton of his t-shirt. "So what're you going to do when you're all rich and famous?"

"I'm ... what?" With a laugh, Patrick sits up, so he can look at both of them. "I ... not going to be rich and famous. I kind of like my life like it is." Especially right now. God, right now, his life is perfect, filming during the day and here at night. "If you guys liked it, that's what matters." And if he's pleased with what he did. He's kind of a simple guy.

He is and that's part of what makes him awesome. Storm smiles at him, chucking him under his chin. The dress she's worn is hiked up around her thighs, a strap falling off her shoulder. "Heavy movie, baby. But I liked it. You were awesome."

Patrick's inherent niceness makes Tim want to use it, just a little bit. Not in the mean, cruel way that would hurt Patrick, but he wants to push him a little bit, knowing Patrick'll agree. Because he's nice. Because he's a good boy. "I'm glad you like your life. What kind of reward do you think he should get? Do you want to fuck him, Stormy? Mm, we could make him into fingercuffs." He rubs his hand over Patrick's shoulder. "Opinions?"

"Ooh, yeah, Daddy. I think I should fuck him and let him suck you off. That's a good reward, huh, baby boy?" Storm's hand finds its way between Patrick's legs. "That's a real good reward for being such a good boy, isn't it?"

It's pretty amazing, actually, how quickly either Tim or Storm can turn Patrick on. He can already feel the flush over his skin. "If that's what you want...." His hips jerk. "I ... would love that."

"I believe the bedroom is this way," Tim invites. "You brought your strap-on with the rest of your girl-stuff, huh Mama? I think sometime you should fuck yourself with one of those toys for Patrick, letting him watch, letting him listen... but not letting him touch." He strips his shirt off and tosses it in the general area of the laundry hamper; Storm can't complain, Tim does the laundry most of the time. "But I think it's time for Mama to fuck you until you choke on me."

"Yes, Dad." God, the way Tim says stuff like that make Patrick weak in the knees. By the time he gets his clothes off and put over a chair to take care of later, he's hard; his cock hangs heavy between his legs as he crawls onto the bed. It's a position he and the bed know well. He laces his hands together and he rests his forehead there and he waits, knees spread.

With a little help from Tim, Storm gets out of her dress and the fucking strapless hell-bra. Tim gets a kiss, Storm's hand wrapped around the back of his neck; Mama hearts Daddy-bear, then she's fishing from "her" drawer the big purple dildo and a much less sparkly harness. Some lube too, because it was a little unfair to ask Patrick to be lubed up at a big premiere. She rubs the slick toy at his hole, her other hand kneading his balls. "We've got such a good boy, Daddy. He's such a good boy. Just makes me want to fuck his ass even harder."

Aww. Dad hearts Mama-bear, too, and goddamn, look at that giant purple thing! "What, are you trying to put me to shame, babe?" He reaches over and sproings the dildo against Patrick's ass. He's going to let Storm take the action on this, for permissions and rules. Tim'll kiss her, touch him. "Open your mouth, Sunshine. I think Mama's really attached to you." Tim cups Storm's breasts and kisses her again, long and oddly sweet. "I am, too."

"Softy," Storm mumbles against his mouth with a grin before she nips at his lip. "Suck his cock all nice, baby boy." Prep? What's that? Instead, she just starts to nudge the toy inside Patrick, who is already squirming so nice. "Your ass is gonna be kind of sore, baby." It comes out almost a croon. "It'll be so good."

He'll be sore for sure! Plus Patrick's jaw will be sore, too. Hands fisting in the covers, Patrick nods and he opens his mouth. He loves them both, as crazy as it sounds. He falls in love quickly and he loves them both. They're just ... they ... he hopes he never is asked to leave ever, hips bucking when the head of the toy pushes inside him.

A hand in Patrick's hair and another in Storm's, Tim keeps his hips still, eyes flicking back and forth between his girl and his boy as they both move. "Tell you what," he murmurs to Patrick. "We'll go out for breakfast tomorrow. Oh, yeah, your mouth." Fingers move from Patrick's hair to the corner of his mouth, feeling the slide of his cock between Sunshine's lips. "You gonna get off on this, pretty girl? Where's your vibe?"

"Gonna get it in a minute, Daddy." Storm meets his gaze over Patrick's back and she grins. Fucking match made in heaven. Ain't it the truth. It's when Storm works the toy in about half-way that she stops, slips on the harness, littlest vibrator shoved in her pussy on medium, just enough to make her crazy, when she comes back onto the bed and starts thrusting the purple ass eater, in and out, in and out. "Shit," she nearly purrs. "Feels good, doesn't it, baby boy?"

Unable to talk with his mouth full, Patrick moans instead. Tim's cock is so big, he feels a little like he's choking each time Dad thrusts in and, yeah, he loves it. It makes him think he might like to try being choked some time. But it'll take some time to work up to that admission. He closes his eyes and just lets himself be used and Mom's right. It's so good.

"Is there a control on that thing?" Tim raises an eyebrow at Storm. If there is, she'd better hand it over. If there isn't, well, that's okay too. Patrick does something that makes Tim's toes curl and his eyes fall shut for just a second, chin lifting on a caught breath. "Oh damn, Stormy, you've got the magic touch." Over Patrick, he kisses her, sucking on her lower lip, fingertips teasing around her nipples.

No control. It's just a little egg-shaped thing. Good for that G-thang. Leaning back from the kiss, Storm arches her back, an arm over her head so that Tim can have at her boobs. "Feels good, Daddy-o. Mama's titties love those callouses." Seriously, he could bring her off just from that, she's pretty sure.

Finally the toy's all the way in Patrick's ass and he's not trying to get away, so Storm pulls it out, gets it hooked in the harness and slicks it some more before she pretty much just shoves it back in, causing Patrick to buck and cry out around Tim's cock. "Keep sucking Daddy's cock, baby boy. You're a good boy, isn't he, Daddy?"

It's even harder to breathe now. Patrick pulls air in and out through his nose, moaning pretty much non-stop. The toy's not like Dad's cock; it's more rigid, harder. He's even feeling a little light-headed.

"Such." Tim's breathing faster, kissing the side of Storm's neck before ducking his head down to tug a nipple in his teeth, fingers pinching the other one. "Sunshine's such a good boy, holy shit. I'm s- seriously having trouble not, like, fucking his mouth and mmh." He's big enough that he can cup Storm's ass, pulling her into Patrick. "Making him choke." His attention turns downward. "You wanna choke on me, Patrick?"

The sound Patrick makes is needy, high and tight and he hazards a nod. How did Tim know?! How did he know that that's what Patrick wanted, but was too afraid to say?

"Ooh, Daddy," Storm says, head back, eyes slits. "Take care of our boy. He's gonna come so hard. I'm gonna stroke him off. Sweet boy's reward for doing such a good job, huh? Shit." Shiiiit. Love it!

"Are you gonna come, babe? If he keeps doing that, I'm going to come down his fucking throat, I swear. Get him off first, though. Movie star deserves that." One hand fists in Patrick's hair at the back of his head, and Tim gives a single warning. "Breathe through your nose." His hips come up and he pushes at the back of Patrick's head, letting out a shuddering groan. "Oh, yeah. Fuckin' swallow, Patrick. Do it."

There's another one of those helpless, stifled sounds and Patrick goes still, muscles taut. It takes effort to feel like he's not going to throw up, but he swallows and he breathes through his nose, stuttered and shallow.

"I want him to come when you're choking him," Storm whispers. They've got him. They're safe. C'mon, Daddy, you know you wanna. She's got the toy all the way in Patrick's ass and she sure as shit is going to come, body tightening even as she says that.

"Do it, Mama." Storm gets a kiss before Tim's hand comes down to pinch Patrick's nose, cutting off all air. He could pull off of Tim's cock, and Tim would even understand if he did, but he doesn't think Patrick will. "Patrick, tap out if you don't want me to do this." It's hot. It's so fucking hot, seeing Storm where he'd normally be, and pushing Patrick to a new boundary that might not have been there before. "Good boy," he whispers. "God, you're so good."

His hands curl around Tim's legs - he's not tapping out, but he's holding on. Grounding himself. Patrick doesn't try to breathe, not yet. It isn't scary yet -- too soon, but the idea. He can't help the groan.

Eyes on Tim, who's on Patrick-duty, Storm presses her hips to Patrick's ass, feeling the buzz of the vibe as she wraps her hand around Patrick's cock and starts stroking, hard. "You're gonna come so hard, baby boy. Gonna come so hard. We got you, baby. We got you. Don't you worry. Mama and Daddy got you. Just feel, baby. Just feel."

It's about at the minute mark that Patrick starts to see spots behind his eyes. Tim's cock his heavy on his tongue, in the back of his throat, the tart pinch of precome. Storm's hand on his cock and he's helpless; at their mercy. And that - that is what finally brings him off. His hands tighten around Tim's legs - he doesn't want to do anything stupid and bite down or anything, but he can't - can't - it's too much and the black behind his eyelids explodes into stars.

Tim lets go of Patrick's nose at the first jerk of his body, the arch of his back and the tightening of his fingers the giveaway to his orgasm. "There you go," he soothes, panting. "Yeah. We've got you. I'm gonna fuckin' come." Tim's breath catches and he pulls his hips back enough that Patrick's nose isn't smushed against his stomach, and comes, head lowered and eyes closed, breathing in short little gasps.

Feeling the come on her fingers too, Storm takes that, smearing it on her tits as she tugs on them. That, right there is enough to bring her off, hips bumping against Patrick's ass as she moans like a whore. "Oh, fuck, yeah," she groans, fingers finding their way to her clit to rub another one out. "Oh, fuck, so good."

For a scary moment, Patrick really does think he'll choke in Tim's come, and he's so afraid he'll disappoint them that it takes a moment to breathe even as he can feel really close to passing out. But he is able to swallow it down and then he heaves in a harsh, deep breath, head still spinning. He's barely able to keep himself up. Oh, God, yes. Thank you.

There's a tense moment where all three of them are shivering out aftershocks in their own ways, and then Tim wilts backward, all of his muscles loose and twitchy. He can't stay that way though, not when Patrick's face is red, his eyes are watering. "Sunshine. Look at me. Breathe when I breathe, okay?" He glances at Storm. "Babe, get some juice and that box of Arrowroots that are above the fridge, okay?" He settles a big hand on Patrick's back. "Breathe for me, you fucking awesome boy. You're okay."

That involves getting rid of the toy and the vibrator and Storm groans each time. Her legs don't even want to unbend, but she sluffs off the harness and walks, hips loose, to the kitchen where she can fetch the Cran-Raspberry and the box and bring them both back; they can drink out of the bottle, she figures.

The air nearly seems to burn his lungs and he watches Tim's face and Patrick does as he's asked, feeling the bed depress when Storm comes back. He feels weak and shaky and needy and when Storm rubs his back he nearly purrs. Feeling both Mom and Dad's hands keep him from flying away.

"You're the best." Tim kisses Storm when she comes back, tweaking a nipple. "And so are you." The second is directed to Patrick, and Tim gets him half-sitting and as comfortable as he can, giving him a couple of cookies before holding the juice out. "Say something to me, huh Sunshine? Make sure you're still, you know, coherent? Mama's good at what she does, isn't she? Isn't she amazing?"

"She's amazing," Patrick croaks, taking the juice and sipping, feeling the cool on his throat. "So are you. Thank you," he says, sincerely, eyes burning for another reason now. "That was ... that was so intense." Seriously, he feels so weak, just wrung out. "I love you guys. So much. I just ... " He even sniffles. "Sorry."

"Oh, baby!" Ah, shit. Leaning down so that she's behind Patrick, snuggling him tight. "You're such a good boy, baby." Such a sweet boy.

Tim cups Patrick's face in his hands, looking at him very seriously. "Don't say sorry for feeling what you feel. If it's intense, tell us. You're learning your limits and we're going to help you." He kisses his forehead. "Eat something, okay? And if you want me to get ice cubes if your throat's sore, let me know. Look at you, Sunshine." Another kiss, this time to his mouth. "Center of attention. Jeez."

Patrick's face flushes bright red. He doesn't want to be the center of attention, not this way. He buys some time by gulping down some more juice and he eats a few of the cookies too. "It's," he finally says. "It was really intense. But I felt totally safe and ... it was really amazing."

"That's more like it." Storm says, snagging a cookie for himself. "Just rest, baby. You did great." Then she gives Tim a small sincere smile. So did he. Her dude is pretty rad.

It's the sort of attention that Patrick deserves though, the care that comes as a reward for pushing himself, learning something new about himself. "Our big thing is keeping you safe, by the way. I want you to be able to tell us anything you need to, if it's too much, too little. Something you want to try. The worst we can say is no, and really?" Tim raises his eyes to Storm, tipping her a wink. He likes the one dark spot in her left eye, a flaw that emphasizes the blue. She's bitchin', honestly. "Chances of even that happening are pretty slim, you know. You want us to stay with you? Or do you want your space?"

"Stay." Patrick leans closer, an arm over Storm's around his waist. "... if you guys don't mind. I ... I'm not sure what else I want like that? But I ... I really like that kind of thing. For sure."

"That's a start." Sitting up, Storm leans over Patrick's body, sheltering him. It lets her kiss Tim, too. This is her family, see. Right here. And she aims to keep it that way. She never really wanted to have kids of her own, never really figured herself a family gal, apart from her band. But this? Is her little kinky family. And she's fierce mama-bear! Rawr!

Rawr, baby, yeah! Tim cups Storm's face again, knowing just exactly how she feels. It makes him feel good to take care of someone, but it feels good to do it with someone. Looking at her for a second, and says, very deliberately in front of Patrick, "I love you, Storm."

Almost like a knee-jerk reaction Storm has a snarky something on the tip of her tongue to say, something like "Course you do, you wanna fuck me," or some shit like that. But she doesn't say it. And even weirder? Her eyes kind of sting a little! Now who's the pansy?! "Yeah, well, I love you too, Timmy," she says back and kisses him, goddammit.

It makes Patrick really smile as he watches. Awesome, right? He's here for this, to see this and be a part of this. He loves them both and it's just awesome that they're happy. Just really awesome.

"You're an asshole for calling me Timmy," Tim grins, pulling back. He wanted to tell Storm in front of Patrick so Patrick would get an idea of how he feels about Mama-Bear. That this maybe isn't just a passing fancy, that it actually is something that's really amazing, and that the three of them could make something like this work. "And you." Pulling back so he and Storm are bracketing Patrick properly on the bed, and so he can talk to Patrick properly. "Don't think I forgot about you. Now's your time to relax and chill out. You worked really hard and you were so good..." A hand settles on Patrick's chest, feeling the beat of his heart and the even regularity of his breath. "Let's see what's on the Scream channel..." Now it's time for all of them to be comfortable.

Tim, Patrick and Storm: Motherlode

Sun, 22 Nov 2009 17:50:38 GMT

Holy crap. Somewhere, somehow, Patrick hit the motherlode. This is what he thinks when he faceplants into the bed, feeling strong hands move him to where he's wanted, naked as the day he was born, with one notable exception. He's prepped and ready, per orders. Ready whenever Dad or Mom calls. Ready. God, most of the time he's half-hard just thinking about it!

So when Tim calls, Patrick, er, comes. And he's going to be fucked and he can't wait.

Tim collides into him on the bed, and he doesn't even have his knees where he wants to before he's slamming into Patrick, "-take it-" snarled against the back of Patrick's neck. He seriously can't get enough of this kid, the way he's always not only ready to go, but excited about it. Turns out he's got a crazy sense of humour, can get Storm off like a motherfucker and look amazing doing it. His hands close around Patrick's hips, pulling him back onto Tim's cock with a sharp smack.

"Oh! God!" It hurts. It feels so good. The heels of Patrick's hands skid across the bed as he tries to hold up to the onslaught, and he fails. "Oh, my God, thank you. Thank you for this. That feels so good." So sharp and so good that he can't breathe. Tim is ... Tim just is.

Tim is in control. He leans over Patrick, biting kisses to the back of his shoulder, the back of his neck, pulling up sore purple marks that Patrick can almost hide beneath his hair, and one hand flattens out on Patrick's stomach to hold him. To hold him where he's safe. "My pleasure," he husks, smiling. His other hand slides down to stroke Patrick's cock. It is his pleasure, felt in the way his boy clenches, heard in the way he cries out.

There's never really been anything like what Patrick has experience with Tim and Storm. Nothing. No way to prepare for how amazing this all his. How Tim just seems to know how to make Patrick feel like he's ... like he's special while wringing out his pleasure in a way that makes it more. His head falls, his chin to his chest. "Dad," he whispers. Oh, God, soon - so soon, he wants to come.

And Tim is having none of that. When he feels Patrick start to grow tight, he changes the snap-jerk of his thrusts to something longer, slower, drawn out to make Patrick wait. He is special, Tim's realizing, someone who fits in as naturally as anything when Tim's never been in any sort of relationship with more than one person. Sex? Sure! But Tim knows if he came into the club and Patrick was talking to someone else, that would not be cool with him. "You like bein' my boy?" Tim asks, pushing Patrick forward until they're almost lying out straight together. One hand urges Patrick's leg up, giving Tim access to a hundred new angles and types of pressure. "You like being a good boy?"

Patrick can't answer right away, too concerned with his inability to draw a breath at the sweet torture that Tim is inflicting on him. "I love it," he finally manages. "I love it so much, God. I love being your boy. I love being at your beck and call. I love that you can do anything to me. Anything, anything, anything. Oh, God, dad, anything."

Having Patrick involved with both Tim and Storm makes for some interesting decisions that need to be made, but those thoughts - serious thoughts - are better left out of bed. He runs his hand down the back of Patrick's thigh, urging it up a little higher, and when he pulls his hand back, he skims his fingertips against Patrick's balls, then back against where he's pushing into him. Can we keep him? Storm had asked. Now Patrick talks of beck and call. Tim says yes. He hisses it, against the back of Patrick's ear.

Even slow, the pleasure is so sharp that it makes Patrick grimace and moan. He's done a lot and at the same time not much, not really. But this "arrangement" suits him, he's found. Pretty perfectly. He likes being told what to do, how to do it, how to be. He likes knowing he does well and God, it's not as if he doesn't get so much from it. He gets so much good from this; sensations he never knew even existed. Yes, please. Thank you.

Tim's phone rings, and it blares out Myyy vagina is eight miles wiiiide... And of course, he leans over Patrick, pushing his hips in, to snag it out of his pants pocket. "Hey, hottie, what's going on?" Smushing the phone between his ear and shoulder, he can still stroke Patrick's cock. "Yeah, we're here. We're having some father-son time, huh Patrick?" Adding a squeeze to his stroke, Tim lets out a husky laugh into the phone. "...no, seriously. If you do that, I will punch you right in the vagina." He changes the angle of Patrick's hips, deep enough that he has to clear his throat before speaking again. "Okay, that sounds like it'd hurt. You win, lady. See you soon. Mwah."

Whimpering out a sound, Patrick digs the heels of his hands into the bed to try to push back, even as his legs feel weak enough to give out. "Is - is Mom c-coming?" Oh, God, Dad's hands are fantastic, big and rough and they make Patrick want to beg. Oh, God, Oh, God, please let him come. He wants to come so bad. His head spins with it.

"Bet your ass she will be. How bad do you want to come?" Tim kisses the back of Patrick's shoulder, nearly pushing him into the bed with each snap of his hips. "Think of how she looks under you when she's all spread out, all pretty and pink and wet..."

Almost whining, Patrick can feel his cock rub against the bed as well as Tim's hand and he has to grit his teeth to keep from coming just from that. "I w-want - I want to come so bad. I want to come so bad, Dad, please. Please let me? I ... I've been a really good boy."

Patrick's got a good point. He has been a good boy, and he does deserve to come. "She's going to be here soon," he whispers into Patrick's hair. "You can make her come as much as you want. She tastes so good, doesn't she?" Including Storm when she isn't even actually here, letting Patrick think about her, want her. "It feels so fucking good when she gets all hot and tight, huh. Think about how it feels to come in her." Wow, that's a really hot mental image, and it kind of makes Tim want to come, too. Yeah, Patrick's a good boy, and he deserves that, too.

Face contorted in the throes of how good it feels, Patrick can hardly breathe. Tim didn't say he could come, though. Not exactly. And Patrick would hate to go against the rules. Hate it. So he grimaces and feels what feels like barbed wire wrapped around his guts and he nods. Storm is amazing. Storm is ... a goddess, Storm would let him come. "Please," he groans out. "Please, Dad...? She's -" No more or he'll come. His teeth clack together audibly.

"She's what?" Tim encourages. "You can come, Patrick, I never said you couldn't..." He wants to know that Patrick thinks she's as hot as Tim does. He wants to know that Patrick wants her, that she gets him off so hard, as hard as she does for Tim, even though Tim's sort of mastered the art of keeping himself under control. That's not Patrick's role, that's not his place in this relationship-thing they're building here, and the tone of Patrick's voice, the desperation that lies within it, has Tim right behind him, holding himself in that careful control that he doesn't just let himself fuck Patrick and come.

And there's the permission and with something like relief, Patrick shouts, feeling himself seem to splinter apart at the seams, his whole body convulsing with it, clamping down on Tim's cock, seizing with it. It feels so good to be allowed to come that Patrick can't even see straight. Even in the aftershocks, he's still panting. "She's beautiful. And sexual. And ... she's great, Dad. She's ... you're both just so great."

Tim's nodding, panting, fucking through that tight clench of Patrick's body around him, hands restless, picking up the slick of Patrick's come on his fingertips. He kisses the back of Patrick's neck, the side of it, tasting sweat and feeling the hammer of his pulse, and he finds his own pleasure in Patrick's aftershocks, in the unsteady, breathy cadence of Patrick's words, groaning out a low noise against Patrick's ear. It's Storm, it's Patrick himself, it's this new lifestyle Tim's stepped into that still has him reeling at the ease of it all, so far. Patrick just fits.

His elbows dig into the bed to keep from falling over (and to hold Tim up) and Patrick has his eyes closed still. "Thank you," he whispers, turning his head just enough to see Tim out of the corner of his eye - a downside to gay sex sometimes, it's harder to see faces and he ... he just really likes Tim's face, the curves of it. Truth told? He's got a huge crush on Tim. He kind of loves Storm and loves being her boy, but Tim? Yeah, he's got the crush thing going on.

Tim's already given Storm kudos (and bruises, and a whole lotta lovin') for bringing Patrick around. The more time he spends with the kid, the more he likes him, likes his enthusiasm, his willingness to learn, to try, to give himself over to two other people without question or concern. Tim's not about to break that trust. "You're awesome," he murmurs against Patrick's ear, gathering enough brain cells together to drag his hips back and get rid of the condom. "When Storm gets here, we have to have some Mom-Dad time, okay? It's nothing bad and you're not in trouble. We just have to talk about some things." But for now, Tim loops his arm around Patrick's waist, pulling him into the right position that they spoon together while their bodies settle and get comfortable again.

"Okay," Patrick answers, head turned again to look at Tim as much as he can. "I can wait wherever." For whatever. What if they decided to give him up? God. The idea makes him really, really sad. Scared, too, a little. It's stupid, right? But, well, he'd feel like he'd done something wrong. But Tim just said he didn't, so he'd trust them. "Do you ... um, do you think that maybe sometime... I mean, I'm not nearly as good as you are, at all, or anything? But ... if you ever wanted someone to jam with? I'm ... I'd be happy too." God, he can feel the blush on the back of his freaking neck.

Tim gets up on an elbow and looks at Patrick. "What? Why didn't you say you played? That'd be awesome, I'd totally be into that. What do you play? Because you know that Mama sings, right?" Oh god. Tim flops onto his back and starts to laugh. "We're the fucking Partridge Family, aren't we? Emphasis on 'fucking'. Don't worry, you are not Laurie." Rolling, Tim throws his arm across Patrick's waist. "You want a beer? I can put on the hockey game, if you want...?"

"Hockey'd be great," Patrick answers, and for a second, there's his Minnesota upbringing all right there in the curl of the vowels off his tongue. "I can get the beer, though." For Dad. That's what good boys do. Even though that means missing out on the snuggle for a minute. Hopefully there's more later. He brings two bottles back. "I, uh, actually have your stuff and Mom's on my IPod and I listen to it pretty constantly? I play guitar and I sing. I had a band for a while when I was younger. Punk? We were ... kind of terrible," he has to laugh.

"Punk's pretty terrible to begin with." Tim flips on the television, finding a game for the two of them to watch until Storm arrives, and he cracks his beer open. "Yeah, you should come over to my place sometime... I've got practice space and stuff. Instruments. I can call Tom over if you wanna jam with him, too?" Tom Morello, Tim's brother-from-another-mother, and in a comfortable gesture, Tim loops an arm across Patrick's shoulders. "The question I pose to you, Sunshine, is this: Sex Pistols or the Clash?"

"Oh, man." Patrick has to laugh, just out of sheer ... joy, he guesses at being like this with Tim, who's amazing, at being able to talk music with him, at hockey and beer and the thought of jamming in Tim's house and all of it. "That's ... I gotta go with the Clash. I gotta! They were ... they're still relevant. Sex Pistols... you don't remember the music as much as the other stuff. Definitely the Clash."

"There better be naked penii in this room - !" They hear Storm's voice before they see here, then there she is, shucking off her jacket, revealing a wifebeater over just skin and a pair of jeans as she walks slowly toward the bed. "There're my boys," she says with a huge grin. "Lookin' sexy as fuck, gotta say. Where the fuck's my camera?"

"On your phone?" Tim answers helpfully. "I totally didn't mean anything by saying I was going to punch you in the vagina anyway... whatever the fuck it was that you said you were gonna do to me... yeah. I don't want that, it sounded like it'd hurt. C'mere and gimme some love, Mama. We're having beer and watching the hockey game. Hop in. I'm sure Patrick's still thinking about what I told him earlier." About how Storm tastes, how she feels when she comes, how she sounds. "He's into the Clash rather than the Sex Pistols, so now we have to keep him."

"You threw that question at him already?! Shit, shit got serious," she chortles as she kicks off her shoes and climbs onto the bed. Her phone's back in her coat; she can take x-rated pictures later. "Hey, baby," she murmurs, hand wrapping around the back of Tim's head first for a kiss, nice and deep. Then, still holding on to Tim, Patrick gets the same kind of kiss. "Dad ream your ass, baby?"

"Y-yeah," Patrick says, licking at his lips. "He did."

"And was it good?"

"It was great."

"Good." Storm grins. And she yoinks Tim's beer to take a long swig and belch out a sound that'd shame a sailor. "Who's sucking on my tits? I'm fucking horny as a bear, dude."

Tim barks out a laugh, getting Storm wrapped in his other arm. "Careful of the wet spot, huh?" Leaning past Storm, Tim kisses Patrick's temple. "Me and Mama are going to go into the other room and have a talk, okay? You just chill out right here. If there's anything you want to eat or anything, just tell them to credit it to my account, okay? They know what it means." He cups the side of Patrick's face and looks him in the eyes. "I promise you're not in trouble. Come on, Mama, I have boobies to motorboat while we talk..."

"We won't be long, baby," Storm adds, giving Patrick a smile. Kid is freaking adorable, no lie, right? Shit. She lets herself be pulled up and they can go into the sitting area, the door shut between them before she tugs Tim close. "You all right, papa bear? Already got off on that sweet ass in there, right? Shit, I love watching you plow him. Seriously turns me on."

"It is hot," Tim agrees, and now that he's got Storm all to himself for the moment, he lifts her beater to pluck at her nipples as he talks. "So, I was thinking. I know, I know. Stop the presses. I've just been thinking a lot about what to do with Patrick, now that we've got our thing and he's part of it, you know?" Mmm, she even smells awesome, and he ducks his head to kiss between her breasts, not rough yet, but the promise is always there. "Like, he's got his job, and we've got a lot more freedom with ours, you know? Rage isn't doing anything, Audioslave's done, and I was just thinking that maybe it'd be easier to get him really into it if, I don't know. He lived with one of us. Or us... together."

Hands framing his head, looking down at him, Storm's kind of letting herself get lost in how awesome it feels when he goes and says that. "... together?" No shit? Up goes Tim's chin and yeah, he can take it out on her ass later, but this is serious shit! "You going all Brady Bunch on me?"

See? Tim's the master at diversion. Get the heavy shit out while he's doing the fun stuff. "I don't know, I'm just putting it out there, you know?" Storm knows Tim well enough by now that he won't do anything while they're talking, but he'll remember Storm's actions and how they were out of place. Maybe Patrick'll like to watch. Mmm. "I mean, I've got a big enough place, you know? It's just an idea. If we're going to look after him, you know? He should probably have structure, considering how new he is to all of this." Big palms cup Storm's boobs, squeezing them because, hi, boobs, and he tugs her in closer for a kiss. "What do you think of that, Vandersexxx?"

"What about your family? Your real family?" She asks, even as she's licking at his mouth, because c'mon, she's horny and he's sexy as fuck and the idea of living together kind of makes her feel all warm and homey and shit. "I'd save a boatload on rent, I gotta say, pretty boy would too, I bet. And I could get laid anytime I want? If you don't think your fam'd be weirded out? I'm in." Even as she arches her back, hands on her boobs, yeah.

"'leece and the kids are in South Africa, babe. I mean, you saw 'em when we did the Skype thing. Other than that, they don't need to know our private business... Not just sort of blathered out like that. The kids are too small, you know?" He tugs with his teeth instead of his fingers, hands bracketing her ribs, now. "I mean, I've got like, three spare bedrooms, so if you need your own space or whatever, that's fine, or you can sleep with me. Groceries, mortgage, bills, shit. It just makes sense, huh? Wanna go ask Sunshine?" The thought of it doesn't freak him out much; Tim knows it probably should, but if worse comes to worse, then he's being a nice guy and letting a couple of cool people live in his place. But there's the sneaking suspicion it'll end up being amazing.

"I know where your kids live, jackass, but what if they came to visit and shit? I just want to make sure I don't like traumatize a young 'un is all." Fuck, Tim already has Storm's hips rocking and she's still in her jeans. "Yeah, let's see if pretty boy wants to come home with us forever and ever, huh?" Jesus Christ. This is pretty freaking quick isn't it? Good thing she's never backed away from a challenge. Or from something that could be awesome.

Tim looks at her, perfectly level, face entirely serious, and asks, "Forever and ever? Are you asking me to marry you? Because honestly, Storm Large. Been there, done that, not ready for it again." He pinches her ass. "Let's go and make sure that he hasn't chewed all his fingernails off, huh? My kids know that you're my girlfriend, and that's all they need to know. And if you keep grinding up on me like that, I'm going to have to stick a plug in you when I cane the backs of your thighs again."

"Ah, man, no way." The cane? Freaking hurts. And Storm actually likes to sit down every now and then. "You getting on me for being turned on? I told you I was horny when I came in. Big surprise, dude. Storm's horny. You gonna ask pretty boy to move in with us and celebrate by caning me? Where's the fun in that?"

"No," Tim explains, a smile touching the sides of his mouth. "You're getting striped for pulling my hair and making me look up at you. You're getting the plug because you're horny. And I'm going to get Patrick to hold you while I take the cane to your skin. Just six, I promise. And not hard enough that you won't sit tomorrow. Just enough that it'll sting tonight. Don't worry, Mama. I've gotta make sure you can sit to be able to ride my cock tomorrow night, right?" Tim urges Storm to her feet, leading her to the door that separates them from Patrick, but it's there that he stops. "Is it weird that this kind of makes me nervous?"

"Caning my ass makes you nervous?" Storm asks before she catches herself. Oops, no. She looks over at him. She doesn't touch his face, but the sentiment is there. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It went from being an amazing fuck to a family and it's awesome as hell, but scary, too. I get that, baby. For what it's worth, I kinda like your jerkface." And she smiles, going ahead of him into the bedroom and back to their boy, already pulling her clothes off and crawling toward Patrick. "Dad's got an offer for you, pretty boy." But she doesn't give Patrick a chance to answer, cradling his head to her chest to suck on her tits.

Oh - wha - Patrick does what he's urged to, though, without complain. Storm's got amazing tits, not too big and not too small and super-sensitive which is awesome. What's the offer, though? He's nervous too!

First, they're going to take care of Storm. Then they'll talk about family matters. "Wanna help me out with something, Sunshine? I need you to sit on the bed with Mama and hold her hands. I'm going to bend her over, and I need you to be with her." Tim tugs on his boxers before pulling out a rattan cane and a plug for Storm's pretty ass. "I need you to count with her, okay? She's getting six stripes, and then I'm going to fuck her. And you're going to watch, and kiss her, and touch her, and make her feel extra-special, okay?"

"Ye-yes, Dad." Oh man. This is serious, isn't it? Patrick shifts, sitting on his knees so that he's out of the way, and he takes Storm's hands, wishing his weren't quite so sweaty. That cane looks small, but Patrick knows it can hurt. A lot. He looks to Storm and back to Tim. He'll take good care of her, even as he wonders what the cane feels like himself. What it will sound like.

Robbed of her titty-sucker, Storm sighs and gets herself situated, trying to find the mindset that'll get her through six hits of that fucking cane to get fucked. "Give mama a kiss, baby," she urges, leaning forward to meet Patrick as he bends down. Such a sweet boy. He seems so nervous! He's not even the one getting hit. Though she wants to paddle his ass and soon, too, see how he takes it.

Tim smiles at Patrick before leaning down to kiss the back of Storm's shoulder, much as he'd done to Patrick not that long ago, and pulls back to put lube on the plug. It's not a big plug, but it vibrates, and it'll be more than enough of a counter-balance to the cane he's going to use. "Ready?" It comes out low and soft, and Patrick can see the change in Tim's posture, his body language, even the look in his eyes, dark and intent and smiling. "Remember to say thank you after each one." For Storm or Patrick. So long as he gets his thank you.

"Nngh, yeah." Storm's eyes close, her hands tight in Patrick's.

Watching that change in Tim, seeing what it's doing to Storm, Patrick watches, wide-eyed. And when he sees Tim raise the cane, he bends down, mouth to Storm's ear, and he tells her how amazing he thinks she is. How he loves making her feel good, how she's not like any woman he'd ever met before. And he jumps with her with that first lash. "One. You're so beautiful, too."

"AH! Shit. Fuck," Storm breathes out, body tensed and rocked forward. "Thank you. One." Christ, her legs feel like they're on fire. It's the burn of the cane that gets her every single time.

Tim's careful to meter his strikes, not to hurt Storm, but let her find that balance between pleasure and pain. The cane cracks down against her skin, but before she can thank him, can count, he leans in, using his hips to push the plug in little, vibrating nudges. "How're you doing, sweetie? Patrick being good to you? You look fuckin' gorgeous, you know. You are fuckin' gorgeous." Storm can't see Tim's arousal, but Patrick can, outlined in a clear jut against the fabric of his boxers. This is his girl, this is his boy, and he's proud of them.

"Two, fuck. Thank you, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck." Storm tightens her grip on Patrick's hand, her forehead to his knees. "He's a good boy," she breathes out, letting the vibrator take her focus away from the heat. "Such a good boy."

Patrick can't help but smile at that, at Tim, at what's going on his boxers, there. God, Tim is amazing like this. Strong, in control. Wow. Patrick's hard too, he wants to suck Tim's cock. He wants ... whatever it is that Mom and Dad will give him.

By the time the last stroke's measured out onto her skin, thin and red, marks that'll be gone by tomorrow night, Storm's body's all tense and tight, like she's needing to move and doesn't quite know if she should. Patrick's caught Tim twice, rubbing at himself between lashes. "Honey? You want us both to fuck you? You want to be so full you can't even breathe? Two pairs of hands touching you, pulling your hair? Two mouths kissing you? Come honey, don't be shy..."

Her muscles scream to move, to stretch to get rid of that fucking burn. And when has Storm ever been shy? "I wanna ride our pretty boy's dick and have you fuck my ass," she groans out, and the idea even makes her body jerk. "I want you guys to fucking make me come so hard I want to pass out with it."

Oh, wow. Patrick has to stifle his groan too. That sounds ... really great, actually. Amazing. He swallows hard, still holding Storm's hands and looks to Tim. Will Dad let them? It sounds ... so good.

Oh yeah, baby! That's what Tim's talking about! And Patrick's reaction is somewhere beyond awesome as he tugs the plug free and tosses a box of condoms at Patrick. "Safety first, kiddo." He rolls one down on himself, his other hand touching the welts on Storm's skin. "You're going to kneel and Storm's going to get across your lap, and I'm going to be behind." Another kiss to the back of Storm's shoulder, a murmured hey, hottie. "Storm, any rules?"

"Don't hit the marks any more than you have to," she mumbles, getting into place, her muscles still spasming. Her skin is flushed, eyelids heavy, the endorphins from the caning running rampant under her skin. Reaching down, she can angle Patrick's cock and tease it at her clit before she pushes down on it.

Careful to put his hands on her hips, Patrick gasps as he feels how hot and wet she is around him. His head falls back for a moment, then he pulls it back up to look at Storm, then at Tim. Good? Oh, God, so good.

"Hold onto her, Patrick. Tell her how fucking beautiful she is." Tim kneels behind Storm, one hand around the base of his cock to guide himself up and in, the other low on Storm's belly, close enough that Patrick can feel it, too. He takes her slow, letting her get used to being stretched out like this. "Aren't you, sweetie. You are beautiful. Patrick... move. Show her how good it is."

"You're so beautiful," Patrick whispers, thrusting up just a little bit, keeping a hold of Storm's hips. The angle makes his hamstrings tighten and maybe that's a little of what she feels like? A little. "The most beautiful woman."

"Liar," Storm huffs out in a dry laugh. Like she cares if she's not. Right now, she's being pushed open almost too far. Don't even get her started on her legs. But her head falls back on Tim's shoulder. "Oh, Christ, I wanna die this way."

"But baby, I don't do necro and you know it," Tim grins, sliding his hand down further to flick her clit. "And Patrick, once again, is the voice of reason." His hips bump up against her ass, and now both hands are free to touch her, pinch her nipples, and for a moment, right where Storm can see, cup the side of Patrick's jaw. "You okay there, Patrick? Can you feel me through her?" Another little nudge of his hips, bringing Storm down onto Patrick.

Instinctively, he leans into the touch and Patrick nods. "I can feel ... I can feel it all and it feels amazing." When Storm clenches around him as Tim touches her, Patrick shudders. "Oh... God. I can't believe how lucky I am."

"Fucking motherlode. Shit." Storm's body doesn't quite know what to do with all the synapses that are firing. She holds on to Patrick's shoulders, her head still back on Tim's and she just lets them move her, too weak to do much else. "That's right. Fuck mama so good."

Tim laughs into Storm's hair. This is why he likes doing this. Look at these two. Listen to their reactions. How could any of this not be completely awesome? He fists a hand in Storm's hair to turn her head toward him so he can lick a hot kiss into her mouth. At first, the rhythm is odd and jarred, but with a touch here, a push there, guiding hands that hold Patrick's hips, then cover his hands on Storm's body. This could have just been a fuck, and nothing else. He and Storm would be homeboys, Patrick a toy between them. But there's something else going on here that's possessive. He doesn't want to share this, share them.

All Storm can do is ride it. Not that she's complaining! There is more here. A lot more. Somewhere along the way, shit got kind of serious, didn't it? Seeing as she's moving in with these two hot guys. Talk about fucking putting your eggs all in one basket. But when she feels like this? Is moved like this? Yeah, not so much worried about that as she is holding on with both hands. "Fuck," she mutters a few minutes later. "I'm gonna come." Already, her whole body's tingling.

With his hands covered by Tim's, Patrick doesn't dare pull away; his own pleasure is a slow-burn with the movements like they are. But he wants to feel her come. "... dad?" He whispers. "Can I?"

"Storm never said you couldn't," Tim breathes, kissing under Storm's jaw, skimming his other palm down Patrick's chest to pinch one of his nipples. What he'd been talking to Storm about in the other room was just talk; they can figure out if it's going to work if they happen to take this next step together. It makes sense to Tim on a base level, to keep what's his under his roof to keep it safe. "Told you that you had to make her feel special... that means making her come."

With a panted breath, Patrick reaches between her legs, rubbing right above where he can feel himself inside her, his eyes dark on her face. Does that feel good? he wants to ask.

But before he can, Storm bucks, hard, hissing at the way she's stretched. "Fuck, fuck, I'm coming - I'm fucking - co-!" She nearly bashes her head against Tim's nose when she does, her whole body seizing. "FUCK!" Oh, Christ, her head is spinning, her fingers digging into Patrick's shoulders hard enough to leave marks.

Tim just barely manages to get his head out of the way, but a hand spreads across the side of Storm's throat, holding her head back so Tim can kiss her and stifle his growl at the clench of her body around his. Fuck, imagine how Patrick feels. He covers up Patrick's fingers again, rubbing them in hard circles on Storm's clit. She wants to come? Well, she's not going to be able to get away from it.

"Oh, you asshole!" Storm hisses through clenched teeth. Too much! Too fucking much. It almost hurts and she wants to push their hands away, but instead, she digs her fingers into Patrick's shoulders, nails digging in, hearing how his breath catches, stutters. "C'mon, baby boy," she grits out. "Come to mama." Oh, shit, shit she's coming again.

Face contorted with how good it feels, Patrick pushes up into her one last time and feels his orgasm race through him and out of him, that bite of pain from Storm's nails keeping him grounded. "Oh, God," he groans, unable not to move, not to keep moving into where she's so hot and so wet, even through the condom.

With a fist full of Patrick's hair, Tim kisses him over Storm's shoulder, the impact of Patrick's thrusts shivering through Storm and into Tim, and when he pulls back, he asks Patrick, "Should I come?" Palms falling to Storm's hips, pushing her down on him, pushing her down on Patrick, and his next question's for her. "You wanna feel that, sweetie? You want it?"

"No, you asshole," she grunts out, all the nerve endings in her body firing randomly against each other. "Come already. I'm gonna fucking pass out on you in a sec, and you hate necro, so get to it."

Over her shoulder, Patrick huffs out a laugh. He's already softening up, but from where he is, he can't really move. At all. Not that he's complaining!

Tim's in the middle of laughing when a breath turns into a hitch, a hold, and his fingers tighten on Storm's body. "You are such a fuckface. It's shit like that that makes me want to punch you right in the vagina." His words are unsteady and breathy-low, and Storm can feel the pound of his heart against her back as his cock twitches in her to the beat of his orgasm. "Fuck, fuh- fuck." Panting against Storm's neck, Tim nudges at Patrick. "You go first, I gotta go slower."

Patrick's breath hitches again, as he helps Storm ease up so he can pull out and ditch the condom. He leans back some, then to watch Storm fall onto her hands and knees. That way, he can pet over her back, through her hair.

"You punch me in the 'gine, dude, and I cut off your nuts when you sleep. Just sayin'. Christ, you got a freaking tree limb in my ass. Get it out already, fucker." Reaching back, Storm slaps at Tim's hip. "Christ. My ass is gonna be the next Holland Tunnel."

God, she cracks Patrick up. He snickers, closed-mouthed.

With a gusty sigh, Tim pulls his hips back slowly. "See, when you do it slow?" Instruction to Patrick, pay attention! "It gives her a chance to kind of... ease out of it, you know? When you yank, her asshole slams shut, and then she gets pissy." He leans down to kiss the small of Storm's back. "Eh, babe? I am going to get you a beer. Because you are a champ." Once the condom's off and in the garbage, Tim tilts his hips toward Patrick. "Is it really a tree limb?"

"Um." Tim's sort of getting soft; Patrick's in a precarious position. "It is really big," he agrees. "I'm not sure about the tree limb thing? Just because it depends on the tree?"

"Shut up," Storm mutters, falling onto her face on the bed. "You both think you're funny. Bring ice for my legs, will ya?"

Snickering again, Patrick gets of the bed, heading for the mini-fridge as he look at Tim again. "Oak limb, definitely. Not ash."

Tim sits down next to Storm on the bed, rubbing his hand up and down her back. "You are fantastic, Hot Mama. You are seriously awesome. Like, 'Ferris Bueller, you're my hero' kind of awesome." It's one thing to do it with Tim and a toy, or Patrick and the same, but to make three bodies move together at once and have it work out like this is pretty high on Tim's Karmic scale. "You want me to order you an inflatable ring to sit on, honey? And a sandwich?" He tips a grin at Patrick. "Oak. You kill me."

"Bit me; I'm not sitting on a fucking ring." Storm can't muster much of a glare - she's just not feeling it. "You love me," she says, teasing as she does every now and again. "My ass and my pussy and you love putting marks on me, dude. I'm like ... your dream girl." Hah. Okay, so maybe the endorphins are kicking in right about how. That might explain the glaze in her eyes.

Coming back with a baggie, Patrick hands it to Tim. Dad's job, after all, and he stands there for a moment, unsure exactly what to do. "I can get the beers, if you want?"

"That'd be awesome." Tim smacks Patrick's ass before tending to the welts on the backs of Storm's legs. "Promise you won't even feel them tomorrow, dream girl. Patrick, can you order a couple of sandwiches while you're at it? The two and a half of us are going to have that talk I mentioned, before. Storm? You going to be a part of this, or do you want to rest it out and listen? C'mere, baby, put your head on my leg, get comfy."

"I'm here. Just ... chillin'. Avocado on my sandwich, baby," Storm tells Patrick with a vague wave before she wriggles herself around to lie on her side, her head on Tim's thigh. "One big happy family."

"Something like that," Tim smirks, running his hand over Storm's hair. Once Patrick's hung up, he beckons him over. "Okay. Serious bizniz here. Patrick, are you serious about this? Do you want to be all in? Like, the three of us, and just the three of us?"

"Um." Standing in the middle of the room, stark-naked, Patrick kind of feels like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Baby, come sit down. Jaysus, Tim. Give the boy a chance to settle." Storm pats the bed by Tim's knees. "It's not like we're asking for your indentured servitude? Just if you want to be a little more serious with us is all."

"... oh." Patrick sits, as directed. "I'm, um, already serious about this, I guess. I ... I'm not sure what would change? Exactly?"

Tim thwaps the back of Storm's head. "I was about to invite him over, idiot. I was about to invite you over," he tells Patrick. "Honest. And yeah, no servitude, because honestly, that's not what this is about." The same hand that smacked the back of Storm's head rises to palm over Patrick's, fuzzy and soft and light brown. "Me and Mama were thinking, well. I was thinking, and Storm agreed. I've got a lot of room at my place. You're allowed to keep your job, but you're welcome to, you know. Move in. She is." He pokes a thumb down at Storm. "We think it might make this thing easier." The more he talks, the more it makes sense, and that's a ridiculous relief. "We'd know where you are, and we'd be there if you need us. To look out for you, or whatever. You save on bills and groceries, so does Storm. How about it?"

Patrick kind of falls with a thunk on to the bed, sitting, as he hears this. "...wow." Wow! That's ... that's huge. "...really?" He asks, eyes wide.

"Nah, baby boy, we're just yanking your chain, dur!" Storm draws her hand back, whoops, elbow in the hip, Tim! to draw it forward and poke Patrick in the ribs. "Of course we're serious. Dude, it'll be hardcore sexy. I can ravage your dick and Daddy can ravage your ass whenever we want. Whaddya say?"

"Um... yeah? That'd be ... that'd be ... great." Patrick blinks like he's still surprised. "I ... would seriously love that. If you guys are sure, then I'm ... I would love that. I'll contribute and stuff. Cook and stuff?"

"You'll have your chores," Tim answers, all nonchalant, smushing the side of Storm's face for getting one of her elbows in the hip. If it had been before, it would have earned her another six welts, but that was then and this is now, and Tim and Storm are banding up to corrupt cute little Patrick Flueger. "I mean, it's not as if you're going to be on a contract with us or be collared or some formal shit like that. If that's what you do want, though, we'll discuss it. We can even do a trial if you want? Like, stay a week and see how it goes, you know? What do you think about that, Sunshine?"

"No, I mean... " Patrick shakes his head quickly. Had he been unclear? "I want this. I really do. And I'll pay my share of rent or whatever. And I guess if you guys, you know, change your mind or something? You can, um, let me know? And I'll, um, move out." Which would mean he displeased them, which ... sucks pretty hardcore. "So, um, no, that sounds like a great idea. Really great."

"Dude, what are you, five?" Storm slaps at Tim's hand. Pot and kettle, baby! "C'mere, baby," she says to Patrick. "Give mama a kiss. We got some celebratin' to do!"

"It's mortgage, and the house is paid off." Tim's got a grin for Patrick, and leans over to touch foreheads with him before Patrick kisses Storm. "Gimme until the weekend so I can clean the place up, clean out the spare rooms." Tim gets a kiss of his own from Storm, and he runs his hand over her hair. So fuckin' what, he's got it bad for his dirty girl, okay? "The idea is to make this easy and comfortable for everyone. Because... there'll be rules, once we're settled." Tim's house, Tim's rules, right? He's sure Patrick's heard that line before from his own father, when he was younger. "What's your idea of celebrating, sexy lady?"

"Champagne, sexy. And some food cuz I'm starving. Then maybe I'll fuck our pretty boy's ass with a strap on?" Yeah, that sounds good. Storm's like a cat in the cream. Content and rolling around in the cream, baby!

"Ho, damn. What do you think of that, Patrick? You guys can have your fun... I can watch... I'm into that." But first, yeah. Food. Thai's ordered, with lots of veggie rolls and chopsticks. Later, Tim will sit back and watch the way Patrick's face tightens, how his fingers clench in the sheets. He'll listen to how Storm sounds, bossy, sexy, and he'll wonder how exactly this fell together in all the right ways.

A twisted little family

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 14:16:11 GMT

A text message lights up Tim's phone:

Found our long-lost son, honey. Be home for dinner?

It had started as a twisted kind of joke. Tim and Storm, the picture perfect couple. NOT. Jokes about pot roast for dinner as clothes are literally ripped off. The hilarious idea of feet up reading the paper when Tim is bruising Storm's ass bad enough to make her want to cry when she sits down. Storm as June Cleaver, when Tim has her chained to the bed and is fucking her so slow, she wants to scream.

It's a good life.

Next on Tim's phone is a picture.

Really, Storm is laughing her ass off. Patrick, the kid's name is, could be their son, if he were a little younger. But a little younger and he'd be jailbait. Mmm, sexy.

Yspls Tim texts back. Ask him over 4 dinner 2nite ;-) ur making lasagna ok? The real question is, if Storm's wanting some action on this little piece of potato salad, how are they going to get him involved? It's not like either of them could just go up to him and ask him to come to a fetish club so they could pretty much pillage his pretty face, right? Dilemmas. What are two pervs to do?

Oh, Tim. Really, you were worried about that? Storm has that shit taken care of. She's a straightforward gal. And thankfully, this is 2009 and not fucking 1950. So, an hour later, Tim gets a text telling him a room number, and then there's a blurry cameraphone shot of Storm cupping the back of someone's head as he eats out her pussy. Tim better hurry. The lasagna's getting cold.

Oh damn. Check that out. No fucking wonder Tim's all ridiculous over her. This is the shit she pulls? Kick-ass. He's there as soon as he can be, give or take fighting his way through traffic. He gives his name, gets his key, and gets to the room. "Honey, I'm home..." Look at this, dinner's still being served! Tim stretches out next to Storm on the bed, running a hand through the kid's hair as he kisses Storm. "How's it going, Stormy?"

"Fuck," she murmurs into his mouth. She's flushed all over, orgasm-blissed and still horny. "This is Patrick, honey. He's bi and he likes to be told what to do. You might know him, oh, shit!" There's a pause when Storm comes again, this time from Patrick's fingers and not his tongue. Patrick, the boy, is smiling up at them, his cheek on Storm's thigh. "F-from such shows as the 4400 and ... Uh... shit."

"I was on Boy Meet World, but I don't count that." He's got a sunny smile, too, even if he's a little nervous. Tim fucking Commerford. Rage! Storm said it was cool, but you never know, right? "Hi."

"Give him a kiss, honey," Storm urges. "I wanna see some dude-on-dude action."

"Hey," Tim greets. He's a lovable guy, remember? Or at least likeable. Storm gets one more kiss, and then Tim's moving down to where Patrick is so he can fist a hand in his hair and turn him. "That was that mutant show I never got around to watching. Er. Sorry about that. Let's see how Storm's pussy tastes." That sunny grin's directed at Tim so he can lick into Patrick's mouth.

"Shit." Storm runs her toe up Tim's back, her hand still in Patrick's hair. "That is sexy."

It actually really is. Tim's kind of huge, he's got big hands and they kind of move Patrick whether he has a choice or not. He wasn't lying when he told Storm he likes being told what to do. He likes ... well, pretty much everything. His jeans are getting mighty tight about now - they were before, of course, but now, it's getting kind of unbearable.

"Sweetie?" Tim's looking at Patrick as he talks to Storm. "How many times did Patrick here make you come already? Does this pretty mouth get you off?" He's already unbuttoning Patrick's jeans, unzipping them, pushing one of those big hands down inside to cup Patrick's cock. "Because I was thinking I'd fuck him while he eats your pretty pussy." They know what's best for someone like Patrick. They'll get along just fine.

Watching how Patrick groans out a laugh, Storm smirks. "I lost count after seven, I think. He's got such a sweet mouth." She runs a finger along his lips. "I love watching men fuck. I just ... I really love watching sodomy." Tim knows Storm's a fan, obviously.

Patrick stares back at Tim. This is ... really happening. It really is. It's like something he'd think about as he jerks off. He saw Tim at Lollapalooza, for God's sake. He shivers and he doesn't say anything. The dynamic suits him just fine. Yes, sir, yes, ma'am. He's your boy.

Tim looks at Patrick with one of those women. SHRUG! expressions. "Well! I don't mind doing what the lady says, do you? Get to work, and I'll get to work." Which means getting lube, getting Patrick's pants down. He has one of those moments where he realizes he should probably ditch his own clohes, but Patrick is new and shiny and hand-picked by Storm. Fingers that are slicked down in short order nudge between Patrick's ass cheeks, and Patrick can feel a smile-shaped breath on the back of his shoulder. "We'll order in some Chinese later, okay?"

"I love Chinese too." Storm's grin is heavy-lidded. "Do you, pretty boy?" Her knees bracket Patrick's shoulders and she cards her fingers through his hair to urge him closer. "I bet you do."

"Yes, ma'am. I do. Garlic chicken's my fav- Oh - f-favorite?" For a second, Patrick rests his cheek against Storm's thigh. "Wow." He does, however, know what he's supposed to do and after sucking in a deep breath, he presses kisses to Storm's pussy. He knows how to make her come. Truth told, it's easy.

"You say that like you're not sure, Patrick." Tim pushes in a second finger, knowing Patrick's not quite ready for it. "Don't stop, Sunshine. You don't want to disappoint the lady, you know. She bites." After a moment or two of stretching his fingers out in Patrick, he leans in to ask, "How would you feel if I was licking you, and got distracted, huh?" His other hand slides around Patrick's thigh to wrap around his cock.

"Um," Patrick laughs out. "I ... would be pretty disappointed, s-sir." Wow, those callouses were pretty amazing. And he kind of really likes being called Sunshine, he won't lie. Before he says more, he realizes he shouldn't be talking. He should be ... well, licking. "Sorry, ma'am." And he presses his mouth to Storm's pussy, licking into it.

"Shit. Good boy." Storm lets her head fall back against the headboard and she smiles at Tim. Good find, huh? Totally a good find.

High five Storm Large! Tim ruffles the back of Patrick's head, pushing his face against Storm's pussy. The ups and downs of only having two hands: one of them is pushing at Patrick with three fingers, while the other can't quite decide if it should stroke Patrick's cock (it's a nice cock, he hasn't seen it yet, but it feels nice!) or if he should do the whole pants-condom thing. "Think you can please her if I'm fucking you?"

Patrick nods. He can. Or he'll try really hard to. It is, after all, what he's been tasked with. He would really hate to disappoint his new friends so quickly. Because, honestly, he just ... this is a great situation. Win/win.

"Good boy," Storm croons. Her back arches and she takes a deep breath as she comes again. "Oh, fuck, yes. I want him to fuck me when you fuck him, yeah, Timmy? Say yes, dude. You gotta say yes to that shit."

"You heard her. Saddle up, buck." Tim smacks Patrick's ass with his free hand, then grabs a condom from where he'd dropped the box, earlier. It's dropped on Storm's belly for Patrick to grab, and then he pulls his fingers out too, urg, sorry, and whangs out a condom for himself. Oh yeah, this one's cute. See how he is after, see what Storm thinks of him when they have their tete-a-tete over beer and burgers. Right now, though? Heigh-ho! "Ready, kiddo?"

"You have no idea, sir," Patrick laughs. Even just stroking over his cock to get the condom on was torture. On his knees, one hand balancing his weight, the other holding his cock at the base, he gives Storm a smile. "I am really looking forward to this, ma'am."

"Me too, baby." Storm raises her legs, spreading them, spreading herself out for them both. "Let's do this thing." She's so wet she fucking glistens.

With a gasp, Patrick watches himself sink into her. "Oh... wow."

"Yeah," Tim agrees, looking over Patrick's shoulder. "That's fucking sexy." He reaches an arm around Patrick to rub his thumb against Storm's clit. Hey there, pretty lady. His other hand holds the base of his cock, guiding it up against Patrick's ass. There's that lament about not having enough hands again, but one settles on Patrick's hip and the other on Storm's, and with a low sound, pushes forward, one into another.

"Yeah." Storm arches her back, head back, smiling at them with the slitted eyes. "That's right. Fuck him into me, Timmy. C'mon. Yeah."

Patrick has his head down, eyes shut as he settles into being filled, into having that heat around his cock. Wow. He can't move without there being pleasure. It's ... really awesome, actually. He knows he shouldn't talk too much, but if he could, he'd say how amazing it feels, how good. How awesome it feels. How he's really glad he met Storm in that bar and that she kind of blew his mind.

"Watch it," Tim whispers in Patrick's ear. "See how your cock goes into her? Just like that. Feel it, huh? It's good, it's so fucking good." He bites the back of Patrick's neck, rocking his hips up, pushing him further into Storm. "Know how I know? I can feel it in you." One of his hands covers Patrick's, and he brings it down to rub at Storm's clit, their fingers together. Storm herself gets a glance, hot and grinned over Patrick's shoulder, and Tim tips her a wink before snapping his hips up into Patrick's body. Let's see how he likes that.

"Oh, fuck!!" Storm arches up, bracing herself on the headboard. She's gonna come. She knows it. She can feel it. Two men for her pleasure. There is nothing not good about that. "Fuck me! C'mon and fuck me!"

"God." It's all Patrick can manage at the moment. He clenches around Tim's cock because it's kind of this close to being too much. He'd draw back, take a breather, except there's nowhere to go. Storm's below him, around him, Tim's in him, behind him. He's pinned and it's amazing. He groans, rocked forward, not even trying to rock back. He just moves as he's moved. When he comes, he's going to come so hard.

Tim draws his hips back enough that Patrick can move, can fuck Storm and then fuck himself back onto Tim's cock, but when Patrick does move, Tim's right up behind him to give him that extra push. Hell, he doesn't even give a shit if he gets off at all. This is more about breaking in this little ray of Sunshine that's caught between them than anything else. Oh yeah, and then there's the part where Storm looks like a fucking porn star when she comes like that, all loose and sexy as fuck and any dude would be lucky to see that, let alone be the reason for it.

When Patrick gets that; that he can move and that no matter how he moves it feels good, it's kind of like a revelation. It makes it hard to breathe and hard to make any sounds that sound anything like please and thank you and something that could be like keep me forever, okay? Patrick's face is a picture of pleasure and when he feels Storm come, well, he has to stop, or he'll come too.

And Storm comes with a shout, clenching around Patrick's cock and raking fingers down two sets of broad shoulders. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!" Oh, fuck, yes. Fuck yes. "Go, you assholes! Don't stop. Oh, Jesus, I wanna DP. Soon. That's an order."

Shuddering, Patrick groans and starts to move again. "Permission... oh, God, permission to come?"

Tim grins at Storm, bracing his palms on her thighs and fucking Patrick, not giving him a choice whether to move or not. "Should we let him? He wants to, pretty bad... you think he deserves it yet, sweetie?" A hand skims under Storm's leg to find bruises that aren't tender but might still ache if he squeezes them, feeling the way the muscles in Patrick's back tighten as he moves them both. "Or do you want both of us fucking you now?"

God, Tim is an asshole. That's part of why Storm freaking thinks she's found her soul mate. "I dunno, man," she tells him with a breathless grin. "You can let our boy come, then you can fuck me til you come. We'll do DP another time. It'll be like fucking Christmas." Pun very much intended.

As they're discussing all this, Patrick shakes between them, head down, eyes shut tight. He won't come til he has permission, but God, he might die waiting.

Tim snarks out a laugh, nipping at the back of Patrick's shoulder. "Okay, Sunshine. I want my turn, so fuckin' come." He smacks Patrick's ass, the sound sharp and sudden in the heated air of the room, jarring him into Storm and letting out a rough, growled sound against Patrick's hair for his efforts.

"Thank you!" Oh, God, yes, thank you. It's with something like relief that Patrick stops holding back and he just rides it out, letting himself come, letting himself feel the pleasure that's that much sharper and that much sweeter with double the sensations. All he can do is cry out almost helplessly.

"Ooh, there's a good boy." Letting go of the headboard, Storm pets over his hair, down his neck. "Good boy. Shit, he's pretty, honey. I think we should keep him."

"Give him a kiss, Storm," Tim says softly. "He's done what we wanted, let him have a kiss." Where did that box of condoms go? Because Tim totally needs to put on a new raincoat if he's getting in on Storm, okay? When he pulls his hips back, it's with a shudder and a low groan of his own, and he skims a hand down Patrick's back. "Relax, Sunshine. It's recess time for you."

But it's kissing first and Storm's kind of a great kisser. Is she a cougar? Okay, he won't ask that. That's ... pretty not cool. Then Patrick falls to the side and shucks the condom and he gets ready to just kind of ... watch. But hey, there are the condoms and he pulls one out, opens it and gestures to Tim - he'll put it on him if he wants? Because Tim's got a great cock so far as Patrick's been able to tell. This whole day is pretty heady, actually.

Really? Honestly? He's offering to suit Tim up? Excellent. Tim grins his assent and tips his hips up for Patrick to roll the condom down. It's also a secondary permission to touch Tim's cock at all, and he hopes that Patrick realizes that. "She's pretty sexy, isn't she? I mean, she gets me off like a motherfucker, that's for sure." While Patrick takes care of the condom, Tim rubs his fingertips between Storm's legs, feeling how wet she still is. "Fuck, I'd love to lick you off before fucking you, Storm. For real. You wanna see me do that, Patrick?"

"Yes, sir, I do." Patrick grins wide and flushed. Oh, boy. When he was growing up in Minnesota, there was nothing like this. "I really do. And ma'am is so sexy. She's beautiful."

"And he's a sweet talker," Storm says, smirking. "Get your filthy mouth on me, Timmy. Shit, you're gonna make me come again. I'm gonna fucking sleep like a baby tonight, no joke. I can't wait to bruise his ass, baby. I wanna fuck it with a strap-on, I wanna watch you fuck him, I want - " Shit, she's a font of ideas! "Kiss my pussy, already, fuck, I'm gonna come thinking about it."

"She is beautiful," Tim agrees, diving down between Storm's thighs in a display of crude humour and giving the lady what she wants. Darwin's theory of the female species is definitely right. With his palms against the backs of Storm's legs, fingertips pressed against residual bruises, he licks her in long, hard strokes, pausing at the top of each to circle her clit with the tip of his tongue. "You're a greedy girl, Storm Large. Might have to remind you why the backs of your legs hurt."

"Oh, shit, you asshole." Yeah, that touch of pain just makes everything sharper. Storm hisses out a breath. If Tim wants to go after her again, she won't complain. Well, she will complain, but she won't mean it. It's less than a minute and she arches off the bed with a shout. She holds to Patrick's hand - don't want him to feel left out. "YES!"

Tim can't help but smile at that. He likes Patrick, and will probably like him a whole lot more once they've got food and beer and can actually get to know this cute kid. Because he is cute. "You ready for the rest of me, Stormy?" He crawls up her body in kisses and bites, and she can taste herself on his mouth when he kisses her. "Ready for this?" Tim holds the base of his cock and rubs it up and down Storm's pussy. "Hold onto him. Tell him he can touch, if he wants to."

"You heard him," Storm grunts, free hand in Tim's swirly cones to pull him in. "Fuck me, you manbeast. Fuck me. Come on, baby. Come closer." Damn. This might make her a cockwhore, but she really loves being fucked. And Tim's cock is different from Patrick's - thicker. And her moans got lower, deeper, the further he got in. "Maybe you should finger Tim's ass, baby."

"Yes, ma'am. Is that all right, sir?" Patrick asks, because that sounds great too. Storm has, like, a lot of great ideas. Patrick can do whatever either of them want. He's amenable like that.

Tim yanks his hips back from Storm, kneeling back on the bed, and he points a finger at Patrick. "No." It turns on Storm. "Don't speak for me." His hand comes to rest on Storm's shin. "Okay?" With just a hint of sheepishness, because he didn't mean to sound that pissed. Sorry guise. Tim's buying Chinese later! "What you two discussed before I got here is fine, but remember, I'm part of this, too. I have limits."

"I'm sorry," Patrick says immediately, pulling back, sitting up at the edge of the bed. Crap. Crap.

"You told me to tell him he could touch," Storm says, still flushed but thrown right out of the mood, thanks, Tim. "We learned not to touch the mighty Tim's ass. Got it. Jesus."

"You." Patrick. "Stay right there. It's fine. Me and Storm never talked about it because it never came up. She didn't know, and you sure as hell didn't know. So, okay. I'm sorry. Surprise, I don't do pen. And I'm mighty compared to you, lady." He nudges Storm's leg. "So, now that nobody's in the mood anymore, who wants dinner?"

"We're gonna talk about limits over dinner so that shit doesn't happen again." Storm mutters that as she sits up. Goddamn it, she was wanting to spend the whole night fucking. "We should eat downstairs. You game?" She asks Patrick, carding through his hair before she stands, stretching. She still feels tingly and pinches her nipples. Screw wearing a bra.

"Um... if you guys want me to go? I can totally bail if you'd rather? Ma'am has my phone number and stuff, so I ... I mean, I don't want to be in the way." Patrick also doesn't want to cause problems. Though, God, he'd love to talk music with Tim. Maybe another time.

"No, seriously. You're staying. Where the hell are my pants?" Storm gets a pointed look. She's goddamned right they're going to talk limits over dinner. Especially now that there's a third person in the mix. "Do you even like being called Ma'am? Because I totally don't get off on being called Sir. Call me Tim, okay? We can go downstairs or we can stay up here, it's your call." He hops into his pants and sits next to Storm. "We've gotta talk about him," Patrick, "and what just happened. I'm not about to get all hardass on anyone. It was... just kind of a surprise."

"It's just your ass," she told him, t-shirt tight over her unfettered boobs, her jeans pulled back on, hair pulled back from her face and fingercombed. "Hey," she says to Patrick, who's dressed again too, cute as shit in a t-shirt and jeans. "Why don't you go down and get us a table. Mama and Dad need to talk a little bit, then we'll be down, okay?" She cups his cheek. Don't worry.

"Yeah, sure. Okay." Patrick doesn't say 'sir' or 'ma'am,' since apparently he screwed up there, too. "I'll get us a table." His smile isn't quite so bright, but it's there. And he lets himself out. He chews at a cuticle on his way to the elevator. Things were going so well, too.

Storm stuffs her hands in her pockets and looks at Tim. "Well?"

"Where do you wanna start, Hot Mama?" Tim parks on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry about the freakout. Yeah, it's just my ass, but it's my ass. And I like that guy, I say we keep him around and see if we didn't screw - okay, no wait, I - didn't screw things up too badly. What do you want to know?" He holds an arm out in invitation. C'mere, Mama, let Dad give you a little lovin'.

Dammit. He's kind of cute when he's being all apologetic like that. "I don't get guys who can fuck guys but don't want shit in their ass." An observation as she shuffles over, standing between his legs, tugging his head so that his face is between her boobs. "He's fucking cute as shit. And he's nice when you get him talking. And he likes kinky shit. He's kinda perfect for us when you're not being a dick." Said now without heat, more teasing. "I wanna keep him too. I want to know what's gonna keep you from going postal."

"It's just a thing, okay?" Muffled between her awesome tits. Tim cups both of them and smushes them around his face. "It's one of my only things." His arms hook around her waist, and he looks up at her. "I like you a hell of a lot more than like, getting together whenever we can to fuck each other into the wall. And when you're out recruiting cute - yes, he's fucking cute - guys to come and get their kink on with us, then... I don't know. I think it's something a little more than just sex."

"What?" His face needs to be out of her boobs so they can have this talk face to face. "Mr. Cleaver, are you getting fresh with me? Wanting to make me a legit woman? I already told you I would make your asparagus just like you liked." Because, yeah, Storm likes Tim too. A hell of a lot.

"I would like to hold hands in public," Tim says primly, cupping Storm's face now to pull her down into a kiss. "Of the real boyfriend-girlfriend variety. I mean, I could take you out on a romantic date with a vibe in your pussy and a plug in your ass, and you could kiss but not touch. Plus, if Sunshine's going to get serious with us, we should have some kind of stability." There's a flash of embarrassment. "I've got two kids, I know how to be a Dad." And at least that's out of the way, too.

Wait, what? Tim's got real kids? Not just a kinky would-be son-who-he-fucks? (which is hot as shit, btw. Storm's all over a little bit of faux-incest-kink, mmkay?) "... and you didn't tell me that shit, why? Cuz if we're going steady, I need to know." Shit. It's enough to make a girl's head spin. Going steady with a guy with spawn and a boy downstairs waiting for them to boot.

"Xavier and Quentin." Tim digs his iPhone out and shows Storm a few pictures. "They live in South Africa with their mom. She's an AIDS doctor. We do video chat whenever we can." The phone's tucked away and Tim mock-scowls at her. "Why the shit would I have told a fuck-partner about my kids unless I was expecting more out of it. And hey, look what I'm asking for! Aleece and me haven't been together since just after Quentin was born. We're not enemies and there's no drama there. I think Aleece'll be relieved to know I'm dating someone, anyway." He looks at Storm, very seriously. "Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

"Easy, tiger. Easy." She pets over his hair. "You just surprised me is all. You got a saint of an ex-wife to boot. Shit. Enough to make me feel a little bit like an asshole." Since her only real accomplishment of merit of late was a video for a song about her pussy. And then she just looks at Tim for a second. She likes his jerk-face, even. "If you want me, I'm yours," she tells him and it's said quiet and sincerely and she smiles, just a little bit.

"My ex is awesome. It's just that I was doing music and she had research to do, and it just wasn't going to work." Tim shrugs. "You're not an asshole. Me and her were both really into politics and amnesty, research on poverty control and... you know." He's no saint, that's for sure. He just works hard for what he believes in. "Alright, Mama. Let's go get the kid and get some dinner, okay? I'll even totally hold your hand in front of everyone."

"Aww, you big fucking softie." Storm smiles as she steps back and she holds out her hand so he can take it. Then they can walk downstairs and find Patrick who's sitting at a table and looking kind of like the kid whose parents had left him to fend for himself and he isn't sure if they're coming back, his head down, fingers fidgeting.

"Hey, you," she calls and Patrick looks up and searches their faces and he smiles.

"Hey, I ... I was waiting for you."

"Hey." Tim hugs Patrick's head before sitting down. "You want a beer?" He glances at Storm. Is he old enough for a beer? "Mom and Dad had a little talk and everything's fine, now." A tip of his head gets the three of them menus, and he doesn't let go of Storm's hand. Not yet. He's a big fucking softie.

He's 24? 25? Something like that? So, Storm orders three beers and Tim's hand is nice and warm. And it's sweet, actually, isn't it? "You guys want to share a pizza? They do that deep dish thing here and it's kind of killer. Lots of onions and garlic?"

"Yeah, okay." Patrick doesn't bother with his menu. "I'm sorry," he says, to Tim. "About earlier? I ... I'm really good with direction if you want to tell me what to do. And what not to do. I, uh, would totally understand if this was a one time thing and stuff. It was amazing. I'm ... thank you. For including me."

"Oh, are you kidding me." This kid is fantastic. Tim squeezes Storm's fingers before putting his hand on Patrick's shoulder. "I don't think this is going to be a one-off thing. Me and Storm talked about it, and if you're in, that's cool. We'll vouch for you to join the club. And we'll look after you, but you have to trust us. Okay?"

"Yeah, no, I mean, I totally trust you," Patrick answers, another one of those grins coming through and he nearly bounces in his seat. No way! No way! Awesome. "I totally trust both of you. Whatever you want." Not sir. He got that. "Dad."

Storm leans back in her seat, grinning. Shit, yeah.

Tim leans back as well, punching Storm's arm. What the actual fuck just happened? First it's a joke, then it's an idea, then Storm's got this kid, and wow. "There's a lot of shit that has to be worked out, too. It's not going to be all fuckin' roses and sunshine all the time, because we - all three of us - are gonna have to learn things. We'll have obligations, there are going to be rules. And you're going to follow them, because they'll be there to keep what's important, safe." A big palm runs over Patrick's hair.

"I understand. I do, I ... " This is crazy fast, isn't it? It's crazy. Patrick's head is spinning a little bit. "Whatever rules you guys want to give me is awesome. I ... I feel, just, like really, really lucky."

"God, you're fucking adorable. Seriously." Waving the waiter down, Storm orders the pizza and wraps her hand around the inside of Tim's thigh. Maybe the night's not totally lost. Maybe they can fuck again. Or she can watch them fuck, who cares. "We need to talk limits and shit like that. Get the basic stuff ironed out."

It's only dinnertime, hi. They've got all night, depending on what Patrick has going on. He knows he's not doing anything tomorrow, might go and jam with Storm and the Balls, get on Skype with his kids and Aleece, or take his bike out to the hills. Nothing that can't be clean-slated (minus the Skype) in the face of this new shiny thing that's fallen in their laps. He bites the side of Storm's neck. "I think the basic stuff can be ironed out between the sheets. The other stuff is Adult-Time talk, you know?"

"We talk about it," Storm says. "I don't want to be doing that between the sheets and have another freak out. That's not-fun time. And we're having pizza in the fucking kink club, so we might's well talk about it." And they have beer. Mom has laid down the law, dammit. With a smile though.

Limits, kinks, squicks, all that, ironed out over pizza and a couple of beers each. Then it's back upstairs and clothes can come off and more of those condoms get used up and it's really fucking nice to sleep with two warm bodies, to be honest. Yeah. Storm can get really fucking used to this.

How much can you take?

Sat, 31 Oct 2009 22:00:42 GMT

[after this]

He's hand his hand in and out of her panties all night, fucking her with his fingers, or teasing rubs, or the flick of her clit against a fingertip. But now they're about to be alone and naked, and he doesn't have to worry about that stupid glove with the condoms tucked inside like a perverted surprise. Keeping her on edge has been incredibly fun, and she's gone from being sassy and tough to being sassy, snarky, and so wet that he can't wait to taste it. "So, other than me, what makes you hot?"

He's asking her to answer questions when all she fucking wants to do is reach between her legs and fucking come already! At least she can rattle off her kinks, the bondage, the torture (within limits), the sensation play, drawing the line at body fluids and being hospitalized. She still has to be able to perform and show off flesh. The room makes her weak in the knees. "What about you?"

"Oh shit, no. I'm in it to have fun, not to make people hurt seriously, you know? You'd love to come on my face, wouldn't you? Mine are the big four. Blood doesn't bother me if it's in an inconspicuous spot - being on the rag doesn't make me soft, you know? - and if things are going to get serious, I wanna make sure everything's cool first, you know? I don't put time into people who don't deserve it." He pinches Storm's ass before turning her around and bending her over the dressing table. "I expect a certain level of obedience." He presses his thumb to her ass, rubbing the tight circle of muscle through her panties. "I'm not expecting you to sub to me. That'd be shit. I really wanna have a good time with you." His other hand picks at the laces on her corset, ho-hum. Even though he's so hard he should justifiably be lightheaded.

Elbows slide across the wood as Storm works to push back. Ass, pussy, she doesn't even care. Both, fuck. Fill her up, like the old timey service stations. She can get behind a good time. "Haven't subbed much - a size thing." Hey, it's true. "But I'm not against it. I'd love to come however you'll let me. Honest to fucking God, this is the longest time I've gone without coming in this kind of situation in forever."

"Don't blame you. It'd be weird seeing some kind of like, Amazonian bitchgoddess with cotton candy hair on her hands and knees for someone like, I don't know, Eddie Furlong or some shit." Tim strips her panties off, mentally high-fiving the snaps at the hips, and the corset's loose enough that he can work on the busk, his cock, still covered by his costume, pressed up against the hot pink flesh of her pussy. "Tsk. And you say my hair is ridiculous." She gets a smack on the ass for that.

"Your hair -- shit! -- is ridiculous." The burn from the slap has her rocking her hips, jutting her ass back, the sack of his costume giving her a nice bit of friction, too. "The pink's temporary anyway. It'll wash out. What is taking you so long?!" Why in fuck's name isn't he bludgeoning her pussy with his dick?

"Patience is a virtue, Sailor Moon," Tim answers sagely, guiding Storm to the bed. "Lie back and think of John Holmes. No. Coming." It's her pussy that gets a little smack this time, just before Tim gets up and starts looking through the drawers of toys. Oh hey, there's one that's about the same as his own dick, maybe just a shade bigger. That'll do. A pair of condoms are grabbed, one for flesh and one for fantasy. "On second thought, are you into doggystyle?"

Eyes pupil-blown and locked what Tim's carrying, she nods, licking over dry lips. "Is it too early to say that I think I love you?" Christ, he can see the wetness dripping from where he is and Storm rolls over, elbows into the bed, knees spread. "Sorry, had a duck pond moment. Fuck me. Fuck my ass. I hope you don't mind if I scream."

"Well, how the hell else am I going to know how hard I'm getting you off? You've heard Chris Cornell. You've heard Zack De La Rocha. I'd be pretty flattered to make you scream." Slicking his fingers with the wetness from her pussy, Tim kneels up behind Storm to twist his finger into her ass, rubbing the head of the dildo against her pussy as he does it. "I'm a lovable guy, what can I say? There's a great Japanese restaurant near my place, maybe I could take you for some duck?" A moment of watching this, tease and push and pull, he uses a second finger, spreading them apart as much as he can. "If you come, we stop."

"I hate you." Shit, not come? She's so fucking close. "I love tappanyaki." Storm's hands are white-knuckled fists in the sheets, her muscles corded, teeth grinding together. She might not even be able to stop an orgasm if it starts. And if he stops? She's liable to go postal. "Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

"No you don't. You'll be on your knees thanking the heavens above for me before you know it." Tim leans over her, vast tattoos and skin moving over tight muscle, and bites a kiss from the back of her shoulder, leaving a nice red mark behind. Lover. He pushes the toy into her, push-push-push, right to the hilt, balls pressed to her clit. "That's where I'm gonna be as soon as I get this in that beautiful ass of yours." The toy comes out with a wet sound, and he begins to ease it into Storm again. "Don't you dare come, Storm. Hold onto it, sweetie. Hold onto it." This is what he likes best, teasing and coaxing, holding his control to match his partner's need. The control loosens a bit at a time, and by the time he's hip to hip with her, his lower belly's pushed up against the dildo. See? When he moves, it will too.

It's overwhelming. All of it. It's like Storm can't even fucking breathe. She's so full, so hot, muscles tied up so tight that she can't even make a sound. There's an ache of stretched muscles, the ache of desire, the ache of wanting to move, but not daring too. "Jesus Fucking Christ," she finally manages, sounding pained, but that's not it, not really. Oh, fuck, she wants to move because once she does, she'll come and she won't ever fucking stop coming.

"Jesus is currently getting his ass smacked by a nun in another room, I bet. Hope I'm a good enough alternative." He leans into his first real thrust, his belly to her back, and squeezes a breast in his hand. "Take a deep breath, Storm. I'm gonna show you what a Supernova feels like."

Tim is an arrogant asshole. But somehow it doesn't rub Storm the wrong way, because somehow she's kind of sure that he can keep his word. Plus it won't take long, since she's fucking been wanting to come for hours now. When he moves, she groans as if the sound is pushed out of her. And it makes her shudder, makes her arms weak. "Yeah," she grits out. "Fuck, yeah."

"Oh, there, honey." He leans down and kisses the back of her neck, only pulling back when his hips push in. He takes her slow and deep, wanting to hear her make sounds like that, more of them. "You like it, don't you. You like wanting me." Tim straightens as he bites a line down her back, and then that broad, calloused hand comes down, sharp and loud, on Storm's ass.

"Fuck!" Oh, Christ. Christ. Storm mewls a sound out between tightly clenched teeth, her whole body tight. She's so close to coming that she kind of nearly wants to cry. If she comes, he'll stop. "Wait. -- Fuck. Just ... wait." Oh, Christ; she's gonna come if he even moves just a little.

"What's the matter?" Tim only sounds a little out of breath, his voice not giving away the expression on his face, a strange combination of awe and smug satisfaction. Yeah, he's got her right where he wants her, and she is fucking hot. And hey, on a first impression? Tim likes her. Mouthy and sexy, and god, she can keep up with him! "Do you want to come?"

"You asshole. You know I do. Fuck." No, Storm isn't your standard sub. She should be begging to come, but she just wants to come so bad that she's pretty sure she might die if she doesn't. Literally die. She's breathless and dizzy and when she comes, she might just fucking pass out. "C'mon, Tim. Let me come."

"Really? You really want to?" Tim tucks Storm's hair behind her ear so he can see a little more of her profile. He doesn't want her to sub to him. This isn't subbing, it's something hot and sexy and fun. He's absolutely, entirely sure she's going to get revenge for this, and hey, he's game, okay? "Well, sure, then." His hips snap up against hers, jarring the toy in her ass. "C'mon, Storm. Make it pretty."

"Oh, you fucking asshole, I will kick your a--" But that jar is all it takes and finally after an eternity, Storm feels her orgasm barrel over her and she shouts - doesn't scream - her head spinning and her body bucking. And since she's so fucking full, any movement just makes it go on an on until she's sure - certain - that she's going to pass out and let Tim fuck her unconscious body.

"Breathe," Tim hisses, leaning back to yank the dildo out of her - surprise! - and chuck it over his shoulder to the floor. Now he can pull her upright to him, kiss her neck, squeeze her breasts, drop his hands to her hips to hold her as he fucks her. "Breathe sweetie, I know you can do it. I'm not stopping." Words that are jagged and harsh and whispered against Storm's ear, and for half a second, Tim realizes he can smell her perfume. Aww, that's sweet.

Oh, fuck, her ass is gonna be so fucking sore tomorrow. Storm finally does breathe, but it's in sharp fits and gasps punctuated by moans and curses. Her arms are useless; they're weak and can't hold her up. Her empty pussy is still spasming and while she will never admit to it, she would bow and worship Tim Commerford if she had control of herself. Which she doesn't seem to at the moment.

The jerk of Tim's hips is sharp and hard, but his hands are gentler now, soothing her while getting himself off at the same time. Women are amazing, all soft and curvy, hot and wet. Did Tim mention the part about how he loves boobs? They're his favourite part of a girl, and Storm's fit just right in his palms. He doesn't pinch or squeeze or pull, just holds. Because they kind of mesh, Storm and Tim. He's met his match. Finally. "It's okay," he's whispering against her neck when he comes, cock jerking inside her. "Uh. It's okay."

"Fuck," she mutters a moment later, when they're both still. "Get out of my ass, you manbeast." Did she mention her ass?! Fuck. She can then collapse on the bed in a heap of jangling limbs. "Holy fucking shit." Her face is buried in the fancy covers of the bed. "That was ... that was rockin', dude. No lie." Her head is still spinning.

"Excellent." Tim knots the condom off and lobs it toward the garbage, then falls comfortably forward against Storm. He brushes her hair back from her ear. "That was totally supreme." He tugs her up against him, kinda liking the way her body isn't that much shorter than his. That is a rare and decadent thing, man. The problem with women? Okay, yeah, Tim loves them, that point's already been made, but sometimes they're so small. "We gotta do this, oh... I don't know. All the time."

Snorting out a laugh, Storm turns under him as best she can, looping a leg around his hips. "You better recover fast, because this time, I'm riding your cock and I'm gonna come, like, eighteen times. And if you stop making me come? We stop." Ha. HA. Take that, Commerford. To emphasize, Storm sinks her teeth into his ear.

"You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to that. But, like, what, you intend to be here for the next three days with me? What about eating? And show- ow! -ering, and- Did my dick just twitch? I think it did." Hell, this is where he feels 41. Brain is completely on course and GUNG HO, but the body isn't quite caught up. Bastards. He squeezes Storm's ass, rocking his hips up against her stomach.

"I am notoriously easy to get off, in case you hadn't figured that out, asshole. You can make me come that many times tonight. But if you don't want to see me anymore after this? Fine by me." She's teasing of course and Tim gets a nipple-tweak to show it. "They have room service here. And they have showers. It's like we never have to leave if we don't want to."

"Bitch please. You'd better give me your phone number, or else I'll have to start stalking you." Tim twists so Storm's above him, and he smiles, settling a hand on her hip and another on her breast. "Seriously, though, are we doing this again sometime? Because I totally want to." It's her turn to get a nipple pinched, because hey, fair's fair. Eighteen times? No problem. Let's start with fingers, rubbed between Storm's thighs.

When she bucks against his hand, she knows she'll call him. If she lets him out of bed. That last bit? That's still up for discussion. She might not.