But he couldn’t relinquish complete control.

“Get undressed,” Tristan told them, as he moved his hand toward his shirt. Before he could pull it over his head, a hand wrapped around his wrist.

“If you need to do this your way, that’s fine, but there’s some things that won’t happen. No shuttin’ down. You don’t get to make this less than what it is. That other shit wasn’t personal, but this is.” Mateo eyed him, daring Tristan to argue with him.

Christ, was he doing that? Yeah, he guessed he was. He nodded at Mateo, who then spoke again. “You want us undressed, do it.”

Tristan opened his mouth, his instinct to take control, but instead he started with Josiah, pulling his shirt over his head and then pushing his lover’s sweats down. Josiah stepped out of them, and looked Tristan in the eyes—no hesitation, nothing but trust, love and respect.

That meant more to him than almost anything—having the respect of such a good man. “You’re incredible,” Tristan told him, cupping his cheek. Josiah nuzzled into it, Tristan’s previously soft cock starting to go erect.

“Take Teo’s clothes off now. I want to watch you undress him.” Josiah turned his head to kiss Tristan’s palm.

Facing Mateo now, Tristan did as Josiah said. He started with Mateo’s shirt, then his pants. Both he and Josiah were already hard. Dark and light, the contrast he loved so much. His pulse went wild, excitement and nerves battling. This was a major step for them, for him, and he wanted it but wished like hell they didn’t have to do it, either. The only way Tristan knew how to try and calm the trepidation was to take them, have them, taste them.

He sat on the edge of the bed. “Closer.”

They both obeyed his simple command. Each of them stood with one leg between Tristan’s legs, the other outside of them.

He wrapped a hand around Mateo as he leaned forward, circling his tongue around the head of Josiah’s erection. He probed the hole, sucked the tip, made love to him with his mouth while stroking Mateo at the same time.

Their noises mixed together, deep breaths, grunts and moans, making him hungry for more. Shifting, he changed positions, sucking Mateo and rubbing Josiah. He could taste the difference in their skin. Smell the difference in their masculinity, and they both drove him fucking crazy in the best possible way.

He pushed Mateo’s foreskin out of the way to suck on the head the same as he had Josiah. Salty pre-come greeted his tongue as he felt a hand in his hair, pulling him off.

“That’s enough,” Mateo said. “We’re havin’ you tonight.”

Mateo’s hand was warm on his chest as he pushed Tristan backward.

“Get the lube for us, mi precioso.”

Tristan lay on his back now, still on the edge of the bed. Mateo took the bottle of lube from Josiah. “You knew all day, didn’t you?” Mateo asked.

It was why he’d taken the shower alone, and why he hadn’t eaten dinner. Yes, he’d known they would have him tonight.

Mateo didn’t seem to need Tristan to reply, though. He kneeled between Tristan’s legs and began pushing them both upward, toward Tristan’s chest.

One, two, three, four, five. ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE.

His body shook, felt exposed, with his legs against his body and his ass, his hole on display for Mateo.

“What do you want me to do? What will make this easier for you?” Josiah ran a hand up Tristan’s arm. And it helped, somehow that simple movement helped.

For some reason, a night so many years ago became so clear in his head. The night of Mateo’s birthday, the night Tristan made love to Josiah for the first time. The way Josiah had said he’d wanted Tristan, but he also knew Tristan would help him forget.

Tristan didn’t want to forget right now. Maybe his past, but definitely not what Mateo would do to him... but he needed Josiah right now as well, because Josiah could help him relax, help remind him that this was okay. It’s what Tristan wanted. That’s what Josiah did for them both, made everything okay.

“Come closer... Lie beside me. Kiss me,” Tristan told him, so Josiah did. He lay on his side, looking down at Tristan. Christ, he was beautiful. They both were. And when Josiah’s lips came down on his, he felt a cold, lubed finger massaging his hole. Felt a warm, wet tongue on his sac.

Josiah’s tongue swept his mouth. His hand held one of Tristan’s wrists, and he pretended Josiah’s fingers were there, counting for him. He let Josiah take control of the kiss, let him lead and own his mouth, each press of his lips, each probe of his tongue, calming the rapid beat of his heart, quieting the blood in his ears, and pushing him closer to ecstasy rather than fear.