Late Nights

“Stupid puppy,” Lyle mumbled, padding down the hall towards Neil’s room. It wasn’t like he was uncomfortable, exactly – after all, pajama pants were designed for lounging – but when you’re working with a limited supply of something, the last thing you want is to have one of those somethings ruined by puppy piss. Right?

Fortunately, his brother’s fiancé was practically a storehouse of clothing – well, not really at all, actually, but he did have a nasty habit of lending clothes to Lyle (clothes which were rarely, if ever, seen again).

Lyle paused at the door – closed, but that was no surprise –and raised a hand to knock. A split second before his knuckles made contact, though, there was a low sound from behind the door; the sound was quiet, almost unintelligible if you hadn’t spent ages listening to the exact same sound issue from the other side of the apparently paper-thin wall between Lyle’s room and his brother’s. It was a moan, undoubtedly, which left very little doubt in Lyle’s mind about what Neil and Allelujah were doing behind that door.

A very small part of Lyle protested that it was ethically wrong to stand at his brother’s door and listen to him fuck Allelujah. It was sick! Perverted! Morally incorrect! Fortunately for his libido, this very small part was quickly and bloodily defeated by the larger part of him, which suggested, in a very sultry voice, that he remain exactly where he was for as long as possible.

This seemed like a good idea to Lyle.

On the one hand, it was entirely possible that any one of the other members of Celestial Being could come prowling at any moment (granted that it was approximately one thirty in the morning, but like that mattered – none of them had normal sleep schedules anyway). And as hilarious as the look on Tieria’s face would have been, Lyle very much valued keeping his internal organs on the inside, thanks much. On the other hand, though, the sounds from inside the room were growing in both volume and frequency, which was inversely decreasing Lyle’s desire to leave his current position.

And who said he wasn’t good with math?

Quietly, and very, very slowly, Lyle twisted the handle on Neil’s door, wincing when the floor beneath his feet gave an almost-inaudible creak (almost-inaudible to most – to Lyle at the moment, it sounded like a gunshot). After a moment’s pause, he pushed the door open a crack, just wide enough to get a good, hard look at the look on Allelujah’s face as Neil pushed his hips forward.

Sometimes, Lyle wondered how much of a secret it really was that he had the hots for Allelujah. After all, the king of subtlety he was not; the hints he dropped were more like fucking road maps, and there were definitely times when he wondered if he could be more obvious even by carrying around a giant neon sign. If there had ever been any doubt in his mind, though, this would have erased it – the expression on Allelujah’s face was somewhere between agony and ecstasy, cliché as the phrase was, and suddenly Lyle had a whole new meaning for the phrase “hurt so good”.

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. All of the blood seemed to have rushed out of his head, leaving him slightly dizzy, or at least lightheaded –and one quick glance downward told him exactly where it had gone. Pajama pants may have been made for lounging, but they were certainly not made for concealing almost-painful hard-ons.

Peeking in the door again, Lyle chose another body part to focus on. Neil’s fingers were leaving bloodless marks on Allelujah’s hips, marks that Lyle was certain would be bruises later. His hair hung, damp with sweat, into his eyes, and it was sort of weird because Lyle had never seen his twin as a sex object before but damn if the look in Neil’s eyes didn’t send a bolt of heat pooling directly in his groin. It was one of those nights, he could tell – one of the nights where they kept going for hours, where Neil would keep Allelujah strung out on the edge of orgasm until Allelujah was begging to come. Lyle knew. He’d heard them do it.

Lyle hissed under his breath when he realized he’d unconsciously slipped a hand into his pajama pants and curled his fingers around his cock. He raised one hand to the doorframe to brace himself as he flicked his thumb over the head, adjusted his grip, and began to jerk himself off. There was something strangely perverse about masturbating to his brother fucking another man – not that Lyle was too inclined to care at this particular moment, not when Allelujah was moaning like that and he was practically coming just from the sound.

After a while, though, Lyle lost track of what was real and what was his (extremely vivid) imagination. This wasn’t the first time he’d imagined Allelujah in a number of acrobatic and sexually explicit positions, making a variety of different Lyle-induced noises; this was just the first time that he’d actually had a visual to accompany it. He bit his forearm, trying to stifle his own noises as he sped his hand up, faster, faster, until he was quite literally in danger of coming on their doorframe.

“Okay, Lyle, I know you’re out there.”

The sound of Allelujah’s voice from inside the room almost stopped Lyle’s heart beating. He frozen, half-certain that he’d imagined it – except that no matter how vivid his fantasies, there was no way he would be able to imagine the thread of tension in Allelujah’s voice, nor the slight waver toward the end of the sentence, like he was barely holding onto his control.

There was a very long silence from inside the room, and Lyle was almost positive that Allelujah and Neil were plotting various and sundry bloody ways to dismember him. Then there was a sigh, and Allelujah spoke again: “Just get in here.”

Putting on a face not unlike that of a kicked puppy, Lyle slowly pushed the door open, exposing himself to the certainty of Allelujah and Neil’s wrath. But even with the leaden weight of dread sinking in his stomach, Lyle couldn’t help the way his cock jumped at the sight that presented itself as he stepped into the room: Allelujah and Neil weren’t done. No, obviously not – Allelujah was sitting back on Neil’s lap, his legs spread on either side of Neil’s knees and Neil’s cock clearly still buried inside him. He was biting his lip, eyes closed as he fought to keep control – and Lyle could tell it was a struggle, even from across the room.

“How long – ” Lyle began, then cleared his throat. “How long have you known I was there?”

Allelujah smiled faintly, though the expression looked more erotic than it did amused. “Since you opened the door,” he said, and his voice was still tense, with an underlying hint of desperation. “You’re not as – as sneaky as you think you are.”

Lyle swallowed hard, fighting to keep his eyes from straying down the length of Allelujah’s naked body. He couldn’t help a glance, though – and even as he struggled to tear his gaze away, he licked his lips, noting with vague surprise the way that Allelujah’s cock jumped at the small action.

“You were touching yourself,” Neil said, and there was less ‘patronizing older twin’ in his voice than there was ‘overtly sexual come-hither’. And it was weird, because Neil was his twin, but Lyle groaned despite himself and fought the urge to go right back to what he’d been doing only minutes before.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice much more confident than he felt. “What about it?”

“Nothing,” Allelujah said, placating. “We were just thinking – it’s more fun to participate than to watch, isn’t it?”

“Like watching all the other kids play without you on a playground,” Neil said, his palms gliding over the planes of Allelujah’s stomach. He was looking at Lyle, though, not at Allelujah, and the look in his eyes was dark, heated, all kinds of wrong and all kinds of fuck yes.

Lyle swallowed again. “I – uh,” he said, because he wasn’t totally sure that was an invitation - maybe more like an observation. “I guess?”

Allelujah smiled. “Come here, Lyle.”

He stretched out a hand, and Lyle stepped forward hesitantly, reaching out to meet Allelujah’s grasp. Allelujah bypassed his hand altogether, though, instead coming up onto his knees – Lyle heard the hiss as Neil’s cock slipped out of his body – and reaching out to wrap his hand around the back of Lyle’s neck and press their mouths together in a sloppy kiss.

It wasn’t very sophisticated, as far as kisses went. Their noses bumped, the first time, and their teeth clicked together at one point and it was all sorts of clumsy and awkward, but was hot and wet and Allelujah was doing something with his tongue that Lyle thought shouldn’t even be legal, and then it didn’t matter anymore. He moaned into Allelujah’s mouth, reached both hands up and tangled his fingers in the hair that he’d imagined touching so many times, careful not to pull even as his mind was otherwise occupied.

When they came apart, Neil was looking on, his expression amused. Lyle licked his lips, prepared to apologize, but before he could form the words Neil was doing the same thing, reaching out from behind Allelujah to kiss Lyle, hard and fast and more controlling than Allelujah had been in just about every way. Neil’s fingers were strong against the back of his skull, and he knew what he was doing, biting Lyle’s lower lip even as he stroked his hair in what seemed like a silent apology.

Lightheaded again, all Lyle could do was tip his head back and give into sensation as Allelujah’s hands slipped under his shirt, then into his pajama pants, wrapping long fingers around his cock. Allelujah had musician’s fingers, slender and deft, and it didn’t take long before Lyle’s hips were snapping forward into his grip as Allelujah brought him higher and higher.

When the touch disappeared, Lyle thought he might go batshit right there. “What are you – ” he asked, but Allelujah pressed a hand over his mouth, silencing him, and then pushed Lyle’s pants southward, off of his hips until they pooled on the floor.

“Come here,” he repeated, pulling Lyle forward until he was kneeling on the edge of the bed, his legs firmly braced but his feet dangling into nothing. Allelujah kissed him again, once, and then braced himself with both hands on Lyle’s hips. And before Lyle could even imagine what was coming next, Allelujah was working that furnace of a mouth up his cock, swirling his tongue around the head before – glory of all things glorious – taking him all the way, until Allelujah’s nose was buried in the curls at the base of his shaft.

“Oh, fuck,” Lyle said, half in pleasure and half in wonder. He curled his fingers in Allelujah’s hair, fighting the urge to thrust up into that mouth, that fucking mouth – and then Neil was there, too, his fingers tracing butterfly patterns on Allelujah’s hips as he lined his cock up again and thrust forward, driving himself all the way into Allelujah’s body.

The thing was–Allelujah looked beautiful like this, taking him from one end and Neil from the other. In all of Lyle’s fantasies, he had never imagined anything like this, and nothing could have prepared him for the way Allelujah looked with his face buried in Lyle’s lap, nor the way his brother’s thighs flexed every time he thrust forward, or the way that the sight of the three of them together made Lyle want to either keep going forever or come right then and there. Neil leaned over Allelujah’s back and kissed Lyle again, awkward and rushed and fucking hot despite all that.

All else aside, though, the fact was that Lyle didn’t have the stamina that Allelujah and Neil had built up over the years – and as such, it didn’t take long before he was losing the battle to keep from fucking Allelujah’s mouth, his hips snapping up as he tipped his head back and clenched his fingers in Allelujah’s hair. Lyle wasn’t the vocal type, not really, but the intensity of his orgasm, the bone-crushing pleasure racing through his veins, wrung a strangled groan from his throat even as he slumped back, shivering with aftershocks. Allelujah, his mouth now unoccupied, was free to gasp and moan in time with Neil’s thrusts, and he rested his cheek against Lyle’s thigh, his fingers clenching and unclenching in the sheets.

“God, Alle, I can’t – tell me you’re close, fuck, just tell me you’re getting there,” Neil said, his voice desperate and broken. Allelujah gasped a laugh and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, arching his back and pressing back against Neil.

“Do it,” he murmured, his voice low-pitched and yet somehow perfectly audible. “Come for me.”

And Neil obeyed. His hips snapped forward once, twice more, and then his entire body shuddered, his head tipping back and an unspeakably attractive expression of ecstasy crossing his face. His eyes closed, and he thrust a few slow, finishing strokes before slumping backwards, softening out of Allelujah.

“Lockon – ” Allelujah said, and his voice was full-fledged desperation now. Neil grinned, a slow, lazy smile, and pulled Allelujah back against his body, wrapping his hands around Allelujah’s torso and jerking him off. The pace he set was fast, reckless, and it couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds before Allelujah was arching, tipping his head back against Neil’s shoulder and coming hard, a breathless, almost primal sound tearing its way from his throat.

If Lyle had to choose a moment to remember, that would have been it – Allelujah, with his hair in his face, eyes closed, his face somewhere between pain and pleasure as Neil brought him to completion.

There was a long silence between them, then, punctuated only by Allelujah’s still-elevated breathing. “Well,” Lyle finally said, unable to stand the quiet any longer.

Allelujah laughed breathlessly, sliding onto his side on the bed and looking up at Lyle. “Different than what you imagined?” he asked, his tone teasing. The only evidence of what they’d just been doing – aside from the obvious, the nakedness and the semen drying on Allelujah’s thighs – was the hoarseness of Allelujah’s voice, and if Lyle hadn’t been so thoroughly exhausted, that alone would have been enough to get him going again.

“I, um. Yeah.”

Neil grinned again, this time wearing his ‘patronizing older twin’ expression. “Don’t look so shellshocked,” he said, and Lyle felt a familiar but inexplicable craving for a cigarette.

“If I ask to smoke right now,” he began, but Allelujah cut him off before he’d even finished the sentence.

“Not if you ever want this to happen again,” Allelujah said, still teasing – though there was a more serious edge. “I don’t want you tasting like an ashtray.”

“Is that a promise?” Lyle asked, and only laughed when Neil kicked him. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

They were quiet for another long moment before Neil stirred. “So what did you want, anyway?” he asked, and then, at Lyle’s questioning gaze, elaborated: “You were out there for a reason, right? What did you want?”

“Oh,” Lyle said, glancing at his pajama pants in a sad heap on the floor. “I need pants. Neil peed on me.”

Allelujah and Neil exchanged a glance, then broke into almost-simultaneous laughter. Lyle pouted. “Okay, come on, he’s a puppy. It happens sometimes.”

“Of course,” Allelujah said. “Sure, take a pair. Just return them this time.”

“Sure, sure,” Lyle said, looking at the dresser but making no move to actually get there. “So – just so we’re clear, this can be a repeat thing, right? I mean, this isn’t like some kind of one-time-only deal, because if it was, I’m seriously regretting forgetting a recording device – ”

Allelujah laughed and sat up, kissing Lyle quiet. “It can happen again,” he said, his voice gentle. “Maybe not quite the same way. But this – the three of us – it can happen again.”

Neil shrugged, and Lyle gave a nod of confirmation. “Okay,” he said, feeling, for the first time in a very long while, like he was perfectly comfortable where he was. “Okay.”