Trinity
by Seshat

Trinity

by Seshat

"He's not going to show up..."

The words were a ghosted breath across the shell of Ryan's ear, as strong arms wrapped around his waist. Leaning back into his lover's arms, he reached back with one hand, turning the blonde's face towards his as he stole a soft kiss, tip of his tongue dragging along Daniel's lower lip. No-one else in the club blinked at the display. Above the pulsating rhythm, the pounding bassline that made the floor beneath his feet vibrate, he shook his head.

"He'll show. Trust me."

After all, he should know his own sibling's thought process, much as Miles would have preferred he didn't. Ryan smiled slightly. There were a lot of things he was sure Miles would have preferred he didn't know.

It hadn't always been that way. There had been a time they'd been close enough to finish each other's sentences, know each other's thoughts. There were two years between them, but they could have been twins; always together, the same brown eyes the exact colour of expensive chocolate, the same warm chestnut hair, the same full lips and alabaster skin they'd inherited from their mother. The only way to tell the difference was to watch closely. Ryan would be the one ditching school, Miles would be the one with the deadlines for the whole semester marked out neatly on his calendar. Ryan would have the harebrained schemes, Miles would bring them to fruition through logical thought.

Ryan had been the fool and Miles had always been his safety net.

There had been a time when Ryan was closer to Miles than he was to his lover. Whether that bothered Daniel, he'd never really needed to ask. By the time they met, the relationship was already strained. Miles always claimed he wasn't jealous of Daniel, and on some level Ryan believed him; it wasn't envy he ever saw in his brother's eyes, it was a sad sort of disappointment. Ryan had never really understood that. When he'd moved out of the family home, it had been a given that Miles came with him. He'd never deliberately tried to exclude his brother. That was just life, he supposed, getting in the way of the perfect existence he'd been playing out in his mind.

Maybe Miles didn't know everything about him, either...

The moment when everything changed was still so recent, so raw, he could still remember the look in those eyes that near-mirrored his own. A look he barely recognised.

It was his fault, of course. He should have anticipated the possibility of Miles returning home early. He should have made sure that damn door was shut...

No. Part of him couldn't bring himself to regret that particular mistake.

But he and Daniel had been in a hurry, and lust-drunk haste tempered any consideration for thought. He'd just needed his lover's hands on him, needed to be fucked through the damn bed.

They'd still been half dressed, practicality giving way to the want, falling onto the bed in a tangle of lips and tongues and hands, feeding on the hunger, stoking it to unbearable heights. The bed squeaked its protest, frame thumping against the wall, but they were too lost in the desire to notice.

Heated words of encouragement were moaned against the kisses, Ryan straddling Daniel's thighs as his lover ran his hands down his back, over his ass, fingers cupping and kneading. Ryan's legs parted further astride Daniel's hips as the touch slid lower, rubbing the seam of suddenly too-tight jeans over his balls. His hands dug into Daniel's shoulders, hips pressing down, heat meeting aching heat and making him groan his lover's name, throaty and needy.

Usually they took their time, but that day hadn't been about taking it slow. There was a craving that needed to be assuaged now. Sooner than now. Today the avarice was so unbearable it felt as though it took an eternity and a half just to tug off Ryan's jeans, just to get Daniel's pants unfastened and pushed haphazardly down his thighs.

Eager fumbling for the nightstand drawer sent a stack of books and an alarm clock crashing to the floor, though they didn't notice at the time. In the passionate tunnel-vision of the moment, it had just been a single-minded quest to find the half empty lube, and then to squeeze out a cursory amount, laughing like schoolboys as it smeared everywhere.

Eventually they got it right. Eventually there was that perfect moment when Daniel's body slid into Ryan's, hard heat meeting eager tightness.

Lifting his head, palms flat on Daniel's chest, levering himself to match his lover's pace, he'd glanced in the mirror across the room - Vain? Him? Never. The eyes that met his in the glass were as familiar as his own, and wore the same expression of surprise. Surprise and a faint flicker of curiosity. Miles's cheeks were flushed, red staining the porcelain pale skin, lips parted. The unconscious intensity of that look had seared Ryan bone deep, made him gasp, made the noises he was making more needy, more urgent. His body moved faster and more demanding against Daniel's, thrusts grinding down hard, jolts of pleasure laced with a little pain exploding deep inside in a shower of starburst. Their hands linked around his cock stroked faster, but somewhere in the back of his mind it was another set of hands stroking him, the fingers that belonged to those eyes in the mirror. Eyes that continued to watch through the gap in the door, dark and dumbstruck, but apparently as unable to look away as Ryan was himself.

When he came, sweat damp shirt clinging to tense shoulders, head back and a loud breathless cry on his lips, it was both of them igniting the fire to an inferno, the gaze in the mirror and the body locked with his.

Somewhere on the fringes of pleasure he'd closed his eyes. When he opened then again the eyes in the mirror were gone.

He only told Daniel they'd been watched to convince himself it had been real. He'd expected him to be appalled, angry, but his lover had just smiled at him, held him closer as he drifted into a sated sleep.

"Next time we should tell him sooner..."

He didn't understand the hunger, but it didn't feel wrong. All his life, Miles had been another part of his soul, an extension of himself. He'd been closer to Miles than anyone, and it seemed only natural to want that closeness in a physical way too.

Miles, though, sure as hell didn't see things that way. He'd said nothing outright, but the refusal to acknowledge the incident spoke all the volumes Miles wouldn't. Or couldn't. It was the latter Ryan hung on to like a hopeful but unlikely lifeline. His brother wouldn't talk to Ryan about it, and he admitted the brush-off hurt. Any advances Daniel made were treated the same way.

They'd toyed with the idea for a while before deciding to send the letters. He knew Miles would never agree to it, even if he did harbour the same desires. Not willingly. And the guilt of that still nagged at the back of his mind.

But every time he thought about it, all he could see were those eyes, watching him as he came, drowning in heat and want. He wanted those eyes looking at him like that again, he wanted to show Miles how good he could make him feel.

He stared around the club, looking for any sign of his brother's arrival. He started a little as Daniel's hand reached for his, squeezing softly. Blonde haired, blue eyed Daniel who couldn't have been more different to Miles if he'd been consciously looking for his opposite.

"Are you sure about this?"

Ryan watched his lover for a moment, before leaning up and pressing another kiss to a strong square jaw. "Are you?"

Daniel smiled at him, one hand brushing back an unruly fall of chestnut hair. "If it makes you happy. If both of you are okay with it."

Ryan answered him with another kiss, deep and hungry, trying to melt away the hesitation.

He could hope all he liked, he still couldn't know if Miles would be okay with it. But now the wheels had been set in motion, and there was nothing he could do.

* * * * *

He had no idea what he was doing here...

The address he'd been given for the club was in a part of town he'd never known existed till now. Dark, narrow streets illuminated by splashes of neon and the piercing predatory stares of the people that infested the shadows, milling beneath each gaudy club sign like moths in a shroud of cigarette smoke.

Miles kept his eyes ahead. He didn't want to know who was watching or why; even he knew the why. He was an easy mark. He'd thought the clothes he'd picked out were daring, but it seemed that was only by his own standards. All around him, leather and metal and iridescence reflected the artificial light. The long black coat, black jeans and white shirt made him look like their slightly stuffy chaperone.

Not that he cared how he looked... not that he'd made an effort.

Not as though he thought any of this was more than some elaborate practical joke, and while Miles had a suspicion who the perpetrators might be, he only had himself to blame. It didn't give them the right to screw around with him like this, but he'd given them the opportunity.

But that wasn't the point. The point, he supposed, was why the hell was he still perpetuating this ridiculous situation. The question was why he couldn't swear with any certainty whether he'd be more disappointed if this turned out to be someone else's game.

He'd always wondered, but it never crystallised into anything real until Daniel came along. He'd hear them through the paper thin walls of the apartment at night - in the mornings, in the afternoons, whenever they suddenly 'disappeared' without a word of warning... - and wanted so badly to label what he felt as simple jealousy. But it was less wanting to take Daniel's place, as just wanting to be a part of it too.

Either way, it was a game of which he hadn't ever learnt the rules. Hadn't even been told the rules, unless he took the letters as some sort of instruction manual...

The letters that had begun to arrive two weeks ago, one a day like some necessary medication, each one short and to the point.

Sometimes they detailed what the sender wanted to do to him. Sometimes they toyed with his fantasies towards the author, as though they could see his reactions through the ink and the words. The last one had been an invitation to a club he'd never heard of, to make all those fantasies a reality.

If it wasn't them, Miles was in far too deep. He'd never have taken it this far if he truly believed it was anything other than a prank. If it wasn't them, he was a fucking idiot...

And if it was? He'd deal with that after they were done laughing at him.

It was that indignation he continued to cling to as he came face to face with the club whose name was neatly printed on the crisp sheet of paper. He was here to chew them out for being assholes, that was all - so why did you dress up for it? - and once he was done he was going to march out of there - so why does that feel disappointing? - and never speak of it again - like you've never stopped thinking about it in weeks?

Never. Every other breath was infused with the memory of the pleasure etched onto Ryan's face in that moment of release. With the way Ryan and Daniel's fingers had been intertwined around his cock, sweet and visceral at the same time.

The way Ryan had looked at him when their eyes met. The wanting in those cocoa coloured eyes, and for a split second that look had been a truer mirror than anything else.

He pushed the plain black doors open a little angrily. The smooth easy way they swung open caught him off guard, and the slamming sound they made against the interior walls seemed to have the same effect on the boy minding the desk.

Boy, because he looked all of sixteen, narrow and scrawny as a leather-clad pole.

Startled eyes stared at him as though the kid had been expecting a police raid complete with flashing lights and sporadic gunfire. Then an odd moment of recognition that made Miles uneasy. He began speaking just to fill in the silence, to try and burn away the nagging sense that somehow the kid knew more than he did.

"Hi... Look, this might sound odd, but I was - "

"It's okay." The kid smiled, and in that second the youth and innocent melted away. Those eyes were watching him the same way as the ones outside. As though they wanted to eat him alive, in as many ingenious ways as they could dream up. Something weak and whimpering inside was yelling at him to turn and run. He didn't belong here. They could all see it. "We were told to expect you. Your room's ready..."

"Room?" Miles echoed. Apart from the fact he didn't like the thought of these people knowing who he was, no-one had mentioned anything about a room.

Turning for a hallway that led further back from the lobby, the kid stopped at the door, glancing over his shoulder when he realised Miles wasn't following. "Our client requested a private room. Anything else you need to know is there." He waited patiently at the door until Miles took shuffled steps forward, traitorous body winning this round of the battle of wills with a wary mind.

Through the soundproofed doors, the dull thud of the music hit like a blaring tide. The lobby had seemed deceptively small, but beyond it the corridor was lined with archways leading off to a dancefloor. An endless sea of bodies swarmed beneath the hot lights, anonymous faces entranced by the mesmerising beat of the music and the rhythm of the strobes through the haze of smoke. The air buzzed with the scent of cigarettes, alcohol, and an underlying musk as pulsing colours spun over sweatdamp skin.

He'd never been in a place like this in his life. The thought that this could be Ryan's life without him, that his brother had never even mentioned any of this to him, left Miles feeling a little hollow.

The kid led him in silence through to a quieter hallway, dark and opulent, a row of doors partially obscured by dark fabric draped along the walls.

Miles hesitated outside the door the kid held open for him with a bored expression that screamed 'well?'.

He'd barely set foot in the room before the door was shut behind him. For a second he held his breath, tense and afraid to move, certain he'd hear the scrape of a lock turning in place, sure in the knowledge he'd be locked in here. When it didn't come he let out the breath with a shaky exhale.

Checking to see if he was alone was almost an afterthought, but somehow he'd expected he would be. Presumably that was part of the game...

The room wasn't large, just big enough to accommodate a bed decked in black and grey sheets, and an end-table bearing a bottle of wine, a glass, and a familiar looking note.

He should have turned and run once he saw the bed...

If curiosity really did kill the cat, Miles was on life number eight and feeling pretty suicidal. Crossing the room he picked up the neatly folded note, reading the tidy printing to which he'd become accustomed over the past few weeks.

The instructions were as direct as he was used to too.

Get undressed. There's a blindfold on the pillow. Put it on. Lie down. You won't be kept waiting long.

Judging by the open bottle and the single glass, the wine had been provided for his benefit. The first glass was downed in a gulp so quick it barely touched the sides going down, settling in a warm soothing blanket over the anxiety tensing his stomach. The second was sipped in a slightly more restrained manner as he considered the demands of the note.

He didn't know if there was ever a moment when he considered refusing to comply.

The blindfold lying on the pillow was the same soft silk as the sheets. For a moment he just stared at it, as though by rights it should have been some dangerous animal, caged up and strewn with neon warning labels. But when his fingers touched the smooth slinky fabric, he couldn't draw back. Setting the wine down, he turned the blindfold over in his hands, held it up experimentally against his eyes.

His fingers were shaking slightly as he obeyed the order set out in the note. He took his time folding his clothes neatly, looking around for some surface on which to leave them, frowning lightly at the thought of leaving them on the floor.

It was better, he decided, to worry about the things he could control. Things he knew.

The sheets were warm and tactile against his skin as he got onto the bed, like a living thing enveloping him. He couldn't help stretching out like a content kitten in a sunbeam, just to feel more of it against his skin.

Deprived of the sense, everything else seemed sensitised ten-fold. Every distant noise made his ears twitch, heart hammering, mouth dry. He could feel every lock of hair that fell across his forehead, tickling the edge of the blindfold, could feel every thread in the sheets of the bed beneath him. The scent and the taste of the wine lingered, sharp and sweet at the same time.

He didn't have to stay. The door hadn't been locked, he hadn't been bound, had no coercion to stay. But he was as frozen as if a million locks had him chained in place.

Time became an ephemeral thing. It could have been minutes, could have been hours before the door finally opened. A soft little whimper of surprise caught in his throat, pulse thundering so loudly he could barely hear past it. Dizziness rose, then ebbed into the stillness.

He couldn't pinpoint any sound or movement in the silence. Couldn't even hear breathing past his own, ragged and too-loud in his own head. He might have been speaking to an empty room, but he hated the quiet with a passion; anything could be hiding behind it.

"Aren't you even going to - "

The words were cut off by two soft fingertips pressing his lips shut. He thought he heard a quiet hush, but it could have been in his mind.

The fingers skimmed his lips, gentle and exploring. Anything left of his mind that clung to rationality like a lifeline told him to recoil, but the touches were too inquisitive, asking permission rather than invading.

His lips had brushed a kiss to those fingertips before his mind had the time to be appalled. The caress brushed his cheek, apparently pleased, a warm palm curving against his jaw. When he nuzzled into the touch, the hand's mate came to rest against his chest, fingers splayed.

He should have been expecting the kiss, but he still whimpered softly at the contact. The hands began to move, exploratory little caresses that eventually - too soon - came to rest on his shoulders. The heady wine was starting to kick in, but the it was intoxication of a different kind to blame for the sudden flare of wantonness; a high borne of the pictures playing in his head. It left him simultaneously bold and pliable at the mercy of those hands.

When the touch slid down his arms, fingernails raking bluntly and leaving a trail of shivered goosebumps in their wake, he willingly yielded, letting those hands lift his arms above his head.

For a moment the whisper of silk over his wrists barely registered, certainly not as what delayed realisation told him it was. But those insistent lips were at his jaw again, warm tongue darting out to lick playfully. It wouldn't let him think clearly... wouldn't let him think at all, but then he'd stopped doing that in any sensible way hours ago. He found himself nodding imperceptibly at the silent question in the stillness of the fingers at his wrists.

Rewarded with another kiss, those deft fingers wrapped the soft length of silk around his wrists. They were deft in his mind at least. It didn't take too much effort to imagine the only thing marring the long cool fingers was a jagged scar on the left index finger, an injury sustained from over-enthusiastic tree-house construction when he'd been nine and Ryan had been seven. The silk wasn't wound tightly, just enough that he couldn't pull free without a struggle.

He didn't know what worried him most - the illustrations playing in his head, or the fact that he could be at the mercy of a stranger.

Strangers.

While he was still whimpering at the loss of those warm soft lips, kisses that now travelled over the angle of his jaw, down the side of his neck, another kiss was pressed against his mouth, more aggressive and confident than the first. Instinctively he tried to reach out, body arching into the demands of the kiss, only to be hampered by the silk binding his wrists. Close, but not quite close enough.

One set of hands teased down his chest - or at least he thought it was one set, it could have been one of each and the illicit thrill of that knowledge sent a shivered pulse of pleasure straight to his cock. The other set raked down his sides, coming to rest at his hips. They disappeared for a moment, before returning cooler and slicker.

He'd barely even noticed his state of arousal past the fog of adrenaline. Not till those cool hands wrapped around his erection, stroking just once. Once was almost enough, as his hips rocked up into the brief touch, legs parting. The whimper against the kiss was nearly embarrassed by his eager reaction, a flush gracing his cheeks just beneath the edge of the blindfold.

In the last vestiges of anything close to coherent, he wondered if he'd be this eager if this was being done to him by anyone other than the ones currently filling his fantasies.

There was still no urge to remove the blindfold. And in one moment of hazy epiphany, Miles knew why.

He didn't want to know. Ignorance absolved him of any responsibility, and let his imagination fill in the blanks.

* * * * *

The length of black silk wrapped loosely around Miles's wrists made Ryan's heart hammer in his chest.

He couldn't help wondering if Miles knew the test he'd just passed with that display of trust. Maybe he was fooling himself, maybe it was a taken-for-granted arrogance talking, but he thought - hoped - that kind of faith was reserved for him only. That somehow deep down Miles wanted this just as much.

The knowledge spurred him on, lips and tongue lapping and laving at one tightening nub of a nipple, exciting himself with its reaction to him. Even if it was just Miles's body reacting, even if his mind wasn't a party to it, it was enough.

Skin and muscle shivered beneath his lips as the kisses moved lower. Wet paths of kisses glistened on Miles's skin, in the dim light, starker patterns against the pearlescent sweat-damp alabaster of his skin.

His tongue circled Miles's navel, teasing little licks dipping into the indentation, thrusting wet and laden with promises and threats of what else he wanted to do. Eyes still fixed on the kiss, he smiled a little as Daniel's gaze met his, making a moan vibrate against Miles's stomach. Miles arched up against that, cry muffled against Daniel's lips, the cock leaving smears of moisture along Ryan's collarbone twitched and pulsed.

The noises Miles made left his own erection pulsing with need. As if reading his mind, Daniel broke the kiss, lips instead latching onto the side of Miles's neck, suckling and marking the perfect skin. It left that beautiful mouth with nothing else to do but make those sounds, breathless and intoxicating. Hands on Miles's hips, a possessive growl vibrating in his throat, Ryan just watched the cock that strained before him, proud and helpless at the same time. The flesh bobbed and demanded his attention, as he imagined the taste, the heat, the texture of those smooth grooves and ridges.

Mesmerised, he'd reached out before realising it, fingers wrapping around his brother's arousal again, squeezing softly, feeling hot silk covering steel. Miles's cry was almost incidental, Ryan barely noticed the way his hips bucked erratically, muscles in his thighs twitching, head thrashing against the pillow.

Ryan was through teasing. Lowering his head, his lips parted over the tip of Miles's erection, just suckling at the flared head, tasting the bittersweet liquid beading there.

It was like the finest wine, the sweetest nectar. Just the awareness of what he was doing, who he was doing it to, sent a chilled bolt of pleasure down his spine.

The pleasure spiked when he felt Daniel's fingers against his lips, index finger softly tracing the point where his mouth met Miles's shaft. Someone moaned, and in that split second Ryan didn't know whether it was him or his brother's whimper vibrating through their bodies. From peripheral vision he watched Daniel's hands moving lower, one hooked beneath Miles's thigh, bending his leg up slightly, the other draped over his hip.

He could feel Miles's body tighten and tense beneath his as Daniel's touch brushed over the juncture of his legs, fingers rolling the heavy velvety sacs.

Suckling harder, his lips wrapped firmly around the pulsing shaft of Miles's cock, tongue massaging the head. One hand still grasped his brother's hip, the other slid beneath him, fingers stroking over Daniel's, entwining briefly before seeking out that tight ring of muscle. A pleased little shiver coursed through him as Miles raised his hips, whimpering softly again, accommodating the touch.

The sounds Miles made when just one finger sank past the taut resistance almost wrung Ryan's orgasm from him without warning. A throaty, husky cry, part-way plea, part-way protest. The hand on Miles's hip slid up to his stomach, stroking reassuringly as he added another slick finger.

His lips drew back from Miles's cock, moaning low in his throat as Daniel's lips brushed along the saliva-slick shaft, licks and kisses picking up where his own left off.

At both their lips on him, at the way Ryan's fingers curled reflexively deep within him, Miles bucked against them with an erratic intensity as he came, body curling in on itself as much as his position allowed, shaking and permeated with pleasure. Answering shivers ran through Ryan at his brother's shudders, at the trembling muscles and the breathlessly shameless cry on his lips.

It was just the promise of even better that allowed him to hold back. Lips withdrawing completely, tongue licking away ever last drop of moisture, he caught Daniel's lips in a deep kiss, sharing the taste, inciting the hunger.

While Miles's body was still relaxed and trembling with sensual little aftershocks, Ryan slid his body up against his brother's, feverish slick skin feeling alive with heat.

In a perfect world he wanted to see Miles's eyes, but something kept him from reaching for the blindfold. In the back of his mind, he was afraid of what he might see...

His fingers continued to stretch and scissor carefully as he moved, massaging the lube into the tight muscle. The way it clung to him as he withdrew his hand made him whimper. For a moment he was too caught up in imagining how that constricting heat would feel wrapped tight around his cock to do anything about it.

Miles's legs wrapped around his hips with no pre-empting. Moaning softly at the compliance, Ryan kissed him deep and hard. All the longing and hunger that scalded him from the inside out were infused in the stroke of his brother's tongue against his own.

Daniel's hands were still on them both, kisses alternating between Ryan's shoulder and Miles's neck. Sending his lover a lop-sided smile, his hands skirted over Ryan's back as he shifted behind him and out of sight.

Taut as a guitar string ready to snap, Ryan pushed back against Daniel as his lover's hands settled at his hips, cock nudging against him just as his own erection pressed against the stretched opening beneath him. Miles moaned at the contact, body offered up to Ryan, hips raised, legs parted wider in silent invitation.

As he pressed forward slowly into Miles's body, Daniel thrust sharply into his. For a heady, mind-shattering moment he was exactly where he needed to be, pinned between them both. Breaking the kiss with echoed cries, Ryan reached up with fumbling fingers, untying the loose knot at Miles's wrists. He needed to feel his brother's hands on him, needed to know he was doing something right. Needed to know he was wanted. Miles's arms immediately wrapped tightly around his back, body rising up against him.

The onslaught of sensation left him gasping, trying to catch a stolen ragged breath as Daniel began moving against him, hips settling into a slow, punishing rhythm, each deep thrust driving Ryan deeper into the body beneath his own. It was almost too much. Taking and taken, imprisoned in a heat that just escalated with every movement.

Miles was as beautiful as anything he'd ever imagined, spread out before him, reaching for him, body making yearning demands of his own. One hand braced against the bed, the other raking down his brother's chest, reaching for the reawakening erection, he caught those slightly puffy lips in another kiss. It was as slow and sweet as he could make it, considering the new angle at which Daniel's thrusts were sliding into him.

The fingers wrapped around Miles's cock stroked faster, matching the pace of his hips, but his lips were gentle as they rained kisses over his jaw, his neck, his shoulder, anywhere he could reach. His free arm wound around Miles's back, holding him closer. Daniel's kisses were nips and licks at the nape of Ryan's neck, one of the blonde's hands entwining with his own around Miles's cock, stroking more firmly. His brother's arms winding around his neck in response, rubbing up against their hands, moaning as he found the friction he sought.

He took Ryan's breath away. Reckless and unselfconscious, swept up in nothing more complicated than pure need.

Familiar electric chills tightening at the base of his spine made him growl in frustration, fighting the tendrils of heat that twined around his nerves like a vine. He wanted it to last forever. There was no guarantee he'd ever be able to have this again, and it was all ending too soon.

The thrusts picked up pace and intensity, until he couldn't tell where one of them ended and the others began. They were one being, reaching for the same end.

When that end came, it crested like a wave, a chain reaction that began with the ruthless tightening of the body beneath his. Wet heat splashed over their fingers as Miles arched under him, muscles clamping down so surely it felt as though he was being dragged in, dragged under. He'd been clinging to control by his fingernails anyway, that last little push sent Ryan plummeting, falling willingly, an ecstatic cry on his lips. Daniel's free arm tightened around his chest, the blonde's teeth latching onto the back of his neck, thrusts suddenly sliding even deeper, heat searing each stroke.

It didn't matter, for that single heartbeat of nothing but feeling. Didn't matter if Miles hated him for all this, didn't matter if this was the biggest mistake he'd ever made.

For that second, it was perfect.

He couldn't remember falling limply onto the bed, bodies still entwined. Just realised he was, body still sandwiched between the other two men.

It took an effort just to lift a hand, fingers grazing his brother's cheek before touching the side of the blindfold. Before he could unfasten it, Miles reached up, one hand covering Ryan's.

"Don't..."

Ryan froze at that word, staring at his brother with a frown. Miles just smiled, soft and a little shaky, lips meeting his again in a chaste kiss, before that chestnut head tucked itself under his chin, lips brushing intermittent kisses against his chest. Ryan just held him tightly, cheek resting against his brother's hair.

For a moment Ryan just basked in the silence, in the contentment of the blonde curled up behind him and his brother snuggled against his chest. He wasn't sure when Miles fell asleep, just noticed eventually that the breaths ghosting across his skin had settled into a slow steady pattern.

Backing up a little against his lover, he carefully disentangled himself from Miles's arms. They'd never planned on staying. In his most guarded fears, Ryan had never planned on Miles staying, either. But it had been easier to imagine leaving than the reality of doing it turned out to be.

Their own clothes were back in the room next door, but Ryan couldn't help smiling softly at the neat pile of Miles's clothes on the floor by the bed. There was something comforting about the familiarity of his brother's actions, even now.

Daniel pressed a kiss to his shoulder as he reached up hesitantly, taking off the blindfold. Miles made a snuffly little sound in his sleep, nose wrinkling in almost a soft laugh, as though the touch had been ticklish. Ryan kissed his forehead gently, then his mouth, tongue dipping between sleep-slack lips.

"Happy?" The blonde's question was a soft vibration against the juncture of his shoulder. Ryan canted his head slightly, fingertips running an almost caress over the profile of that sleeping face. Miles smiled at that briefest touch, and Ryan knew he'd never get enough of that sated expression.

Miles might never mention this night again, but the risk had been worth every moment. Turning around, he looked up at Daniel, nodded, smiling himself.

"Yeah... But I'll be even happier if he's still smiling that way when he gets home."