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The kiss of Walt Whitman is still on my lips

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“I’m just unsure about the desired outcome of this exercise,” Gansey says, voice muffled from behind the motel bathroom door.

Blue snorts and turns to share a knowing glance with Henry. She might have said something unkind but they both know how much of the performed formality was really covering up Gansey’s nerves.

“The desired outcome, my sweet prince, is for Periwinkle and I to devour every inch of your skin and then ride you until you cry out . . .” Henry trails off, looking at Blue, “What’s the phrase I’m looking for?”

“Cry uncle?” Blue returns, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. Thank you, most gracious lady. Until you cry uncle.”

Blue swats Henry on the shoulder and he pushes on her shoulder, gently leaning his body into hers.

“If you two are finished flirting?” Gansey steps out of the bathroom, voice mild, face pink.

Blue and Henry both fall silent instantly, taking in the vision of a boy before them. Gansey was a beautiful boy at the worst of times with glowing tan skin and a jawline that put Hollywood actors to shame. But now, in a white lacy bra, thong, and strappy heels he is simply radiant. He looks like a Grecian statue if Michaelangelo had had a lingerie fetish.

Gansey blushes even brighter, “So I am to conclude that this foray into intimate apparel has been a success?”

“Gansey,” Blue’s voice is harsh to her own ears, “Come here. Now.”

Gansey, ever obedient, walks the short distance to Blue, perched next to Henry on the side of the mediocre motel bed and leans into one of her ravenous kisses. There is always a shock when their lips meet, a miracle that they are now allowed this simple pleasure.

As they kiss, Henry pulls Gansey down by his hips to sit between them, without Blue ever having to break their kiss. Henry’s mouth on Gansey's neck is less of a shock but warm and welcome. After months on the road Henry knows this: how to find and bite the tendon that stretches from Gansey’s neck to his beautiful arm. How to run his hands down the sides of Gansey’s chest in a way that is both grounding and thrilling.

Blue’s mouth is in charge (as it often is) her tongue hot in his mouth. She is not afraid to use her teeth but her hands are reverent on his body. Her fingers trail along the lines of the lacy bra cutting beautiful lines across his strong chest, down his sides, along the waistband of his absurdly delicate thong.

Gansey feels his cock stiffen from the attention. He’s still not sure he deserves this (a Gansey never assumes he deserves anything) but he’s so glad he has these two people, one pressed to each side of him, both with a rather fantastic carnal encyclopedia of his body.

Blue is pulling him down on top of her now, guiding him down her chest and between her legs, her pants pulled down frantically and tangled around her knees. Henry is still behind him, still leaving love bites across his shoulders and below his ears, now pushing his thong to the side to begin to open Gansey up with his clever fingers.

Henry pulls Gansey’s head around for a brief kiss, using his actions when words fail as an adequate language. Gansey knows to translate this gesture to I love you. And then Henry is turning Gansey’s head back to Blue’s sternum and Gansey knows this means and now get to work.

Gansey delights in kissing every inch of Blue down to her beautiful pussy, delights in the ease with which his lips meet her skin. He loves the taste of her, loves to feel her own excitement build under his tongue and lips and hands. Loves to know he can do this, he can very simply make his love feel . . . good.

And Henry is behind Gansey, pressing two fingers into him and it’s nearly enough for Gansey to lose his focus already. And Gansey loves this too, the act of taking pleasure, of clenching and relaxing, of carefully measured breathing. Of two fingers pressing in and out slowly until they become three and he moans into Blue’s cunt and feels his own cock, rock hard and leaking and feels Henry, rock hard behind him.

Finally, after a patient eternity, Henry is pressing into him with his own cock and Gansey is licking Blue for all he is worth and he remembers about how time has no beginning or endings and how there is just this and Blue is making sweet keening noises and Henry is digging his fingers tightly into Gansey’s hips and the moment lasts forever.

Eventually the moment is over and all three of them lie on the bed together exhausted, sticky, and partially clothed. Blue’s green patchwork and gauze sweater lies on the floor and somehow one of Henry’s socks has ended up on the ceiling fan (Blue swears up and down Henry only does this for dramatic effect) and Gansey buries his head in the softest park of Blue’s belly and laughs guilelessly as Henry lies tangled around them, stroking Gansey’s back in a way that means, you did well.

Gansey admits that perhaps he can see a rationale to lingerie after all and Blue and Henry smile in a way that lights up the room.

--the beginning--