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Indulgence (Prouvaire): October, 1828
Aimery Courfeyrac and I had been joking about restraint for three nonconsecutive nights before he tied me to the bed. He did not mean it entirely seriously, though he proposed it, and I was not prepared to be as excited as I was by being in his power. I knew in some part of my mind that it was all an illusion, that he was no more dominating me that night than any other, that I only had to say the right word and he would let me up. Even so, it made the blood pound in my veins. He had asked countless times for me to take him in my mouth, and it was never as titillating as when he ordered me to it. I have felt his fingers inside me, opening my body, but it was never as humiliating and perfect as when he told me that I could not refuse him. It was very unlike anything I would have done with Bossuet, who was always gentle with me. But he had abandoned me months before for Joly's charms, without so much as a by-your-leave or an explanation. We had not been apart for so much as a week, and all of a sudden he missed meetings -- as did his new lover. I could not approach either of them. They were happy and they did not need me. I was inconsolable, dejected, and melancholy. I determined to complain to no one of my woes. Aimery upset my plan. He took me aside one night when the meeting was breaking up and asked, "Would you like to come home with me?" Daniel Feuilly had already left, without Aimery, or I might have refused him. He took me home and asked me about Bossuet. I wept into his pillow as I told the story. He shook his head and rubbed my back, telling me that everything would be all right. I sniffled into his handkerchief and washed my face. Aimery took me in his arms again and told me that Bossuet was a fool for leaving me. We made love. It was sweet to sleep in his arms, though he was not my lost love. Christophe Bahorel approached me two nights later. He had always frightened me, though he was of the fraternity. He is a big man in every respect, and I am slight. He always seems as though he could break me with one hand. I went with him, for company, and stayed for a week in newfound delight. Apart from the initiations, he was only my third lover, and as different from Bossuet's care and Aimery's sweetness as any man could be. He teased me and tousled my hair, taught me unspeakable things and prodded me to try them. Christophe overwhelmed me and made it impossible to think of anything but him for hours at a time. In his bed, I found the oblivion of ecstasy coupled with the joy of friendship. I also spent a night or two a week with Aimery, when he was not busy with Daniel or Audric. He sometimes said that he worried about me, hanging around Christophe as much as I did, but I brushed off his concern. Sometimes, we were gentle with each other, but more often, I asked him to be less polite, to play our game. It was a great deal more engaging than simpler sex. I could lose my memory and my inhibitions without fear; I wanted neither to separate me from Aimery. We had joked about inviting Christophe for one of those nights, or at least, I had thought that I was joking. Aimery seemed to think that because such discussions made my breath catch and my hips move, and because I raised the subject more than once, that I was serious. He gave me no warning, perhaps because he knew I would demur if he did. We had gone to my flat after the meeting; he gave his new roommate some excuse while I waited for him and tried to look as though I was not. When we arrived, we sat on the bed and kissed for what seemed half an hour until I started fidgetting. He chided me -- "Impatient little brother" -- as though he did not have his hand between my thighs, encouraging me to wriggle and making me want more. He started undressing me, dropping light kisses where the buttons had fastened. I kicked off my shoes and he stopped. "Jehan -- will you do as I say tonight?" I considered this for a few moments. He had already made me impatient, and games took longer than normal lovemaking, but I had spent much of the evening wondering where Bossuet was, and I did not want to think about him any more. "If you like," I said. "Then take your pants off and lie back." I smiled at him, and did as I was told. It was a warm night. The blankets were pushed to the bottom of the bed, and the fine linen sheets were cool against my skin. While I finished undressing, Aimery took the scarves he liked to use out of his coat pockets. Once I was done, and comfortable, he tied my wrists together and fastened them loosely to the bedframe near the pillow. "Is that all right?" I nodded. "Good." He sat beside me, fully clothed, and ran his hands over my body. It might have been pleasurable, rather like a gentle massage, if I had not been aching for him. "Please, Aimé. Touch me," I asked, as beseechingly as I could manage. He grinned at me. "I am touching you." "You know what I mean. Please?" There was a knock on the door. Any desire I had felt the moment before turned immediately into a blush so strong my toes must have turned scarlet. "Tell them to go away!" I hissed at Aimery. He smiled again in his self-assured way. "I'll be back in a moment, chéri." He pulled the sheet over me and went into the other room, closing the bedroom door behind him. I could hear my heart beating in my ears. I willed whomever it was to go away instantly. Aimery opened the door -- I could hear that -- but he did not greet his visitor loudly enough for me to hear him say anything, nor did the visitor introduce itself nor greet him. I was terrified that he had left me, gone out to do God knows what with someone or other. I wasn't at all sure that I could untie the knots, left to myself. The bedroom door opened. I choked on a scream. It was a tall, burly man carrying a candlestick. After my heart started beating again, I recognized Christophe. "Good evening, Jehan," he said cheerfully, and came toward the bed. "You're looking well." "Good evening," I said in a very small voice. Aimery followed Christophe into the room and locked the door behind himself. Christophe set the candle on the bedside table and asked, "Are you quite all right?" "You scared me out of my wits," I protested. I was no longer frightened; instead, I was furious with both of them. "What are you doing here? Let me off this bed right now!" Christophe pulled back the sheet. "And let a lovely thing like you get away?" Aimery put his hand on Christophe's shoulder and gave me an utterly disarming smile. "We'll let you go, if that's what you want. But I seem to recall one of my friends telling me with some enthusiasm that he would quite like to share a bed with Christophe and me." I blushed again; he was telling the truth, but I did not want Christophe to know that. Aimery went on, "Then again, you've told me you're afraid of him --" Christophe snorted. "Afraid of me? Jehan who begs me to fuck him?" "Christophe!" I protested. "I --" Aimery touched my calf gently. "Do you want to leave?" I turned my head, trying to hide a blush. "-- no." "You know how to stop this," Aimery said, all solemnity. I nodded; clearly he would expect the same trigger as ever. Christophe grinned and unbuckled his belt. "Well, that's settled." Aimery shook his head, then embraced Christophe. "Remember-- be a little gentle, and anything from the First Republic means stop." Christophe kissed him, long and lingering. They were clearly closer than I had suspected. "I understand, for the fifth time. Now will you let me get undressed?" Aimery kissed him again. "Let me do it." They undressed each other by the side of the bed, in the candlelight, where I could clearly see them both. If my hands had not been tied, I could have given them the same intimate caresses they gave each other, and that every so often they would lean over and give me. It seemed intolerably long before they were both naked. I was aroused again, both from watching them and from their intermittent attentions. "Well, Aimery," Christophe said, amused, "what shall we do with our young captive?" Aimery gave me an appraising look. "I think we ought to enjoy him." Christophe looked impatient. "Well, yes. In what manner?" "Mm." Aimery gave me another long look. "Did you say he's begged you?" I turned my face away and turned my hips as best I could. I knew they were both looking at me in the same, lustful way. Christophe ran his hand down my spine. "I said that, yes." Aimery leaned over and kissed my thigh. The muscles in my leg trembled. "I would like to hear that." "Would you, now. Well, then." Christophe sat on the end of the bed and ran a hand up my leg. "Jean, you ought to turn onto your back so that we can see your face. Aimé, do you have a spare pillow, and --" I had half-turned by the time Aimery found the pillow and handed it to him. He also picked up a bottle that lived by the head of the bed. "Olive oil," he said, grinning, "in the best Greek tradition." "Perfect." Christophe grinned back, a wolf's grin, hungry. He patted my hip. "Lift your hips, Jean -- just a moment." I did, wondering if I was going to blush through the entire evening, and he slid the pillow underneath. "Better." I relaxed, inasmuch as it is possible to relax with one's hips on a pillow, a friend between one's calves, and a prominently displayed erection. "Aimé, what do you want?" I asked, and if my voice was smaller than normal, no one was surprised. Aimery handed Christophe the bottle, then came to the head of the bed and ran his fingers across my lips. I nibbled on the tips of his fingers out of affectionate habit, and he smiled. "Perhaps you'd like to have me in your mouth, when you've finished begging." I felt sure that my face was crimson. "I -- I suppose I wouldn't mind that." Aimery laughed. "Christophe, he says he 'wouldn't mind' having us both at once." Christophe pushed my knees farther apart, gently but insistently. "Gracious of you, petit." "As if you could prevent us," Aimery said, more softly, and thrust his fingers into my mouth. "Probably be glad of it, soon enough," Christophe added, and spread my buttocks with oil-slicked fingers. "We don't want you waking the neighbors, after all." "They might want to join in," Aimery said lightly, and sat near the head of the bed. I felt Christophe's finger slide into me, and remembered as my muscles relaxed precisely how formidable he really was. "There, now," Christophe said, apparently to me, and reached up to tweak one of my nipples. "We can't have the whole neighborhood in. They'd exhaust the boy." He crooked his finger just so and made me gasp. Aimery kissed my nipple. "As if you would mind that, Jehan." He tugged on it for a moment with his teeth. Christophe pushed a second finger inside me, and between their attentions I could only moan. "Doesn't sound like he would mind at all. Ah, Jehan," Christophe said, with a mock sigh, "you seem to be enjoying this. Shall I suck you for half a moment and end this torment?" I pushed against his fingers, unable to say, "No," though I wanted to refuse this. Aimery pinched my nipple and paused a moment, then said, "Don't, Christophe. If he wanted that, he'd have asked." This was entirely true. The only noise I could muster was another moan. Christophe bent his head and bit the inside of my thigh for a moment. "Jehan, Aimé thinks you're still awake." He twisted his fingers inside me. "I haven't heard a word out of you in quite a while now." Again he twisted his fingers and pushed them a little deeper. I whimpered, for want of words. Perhaps Christophe understood my speechlessness, for he stopped and asked, "What do you want, Jean?" I sighed and tried to push against him, to make him move, but he pulled his fingers out of me and waited for me to finish moaning before he repeated, "What do you want?" "You," I said, trying to find words that could express my desperation. "Please, Christophe. I need you inside me." I looked at him for the first time in fifteen minutes. He had not sounded as aroused as he looked, but his never copious patience was clearly wearing thin. "Take me," I said, and felt myself blush again. Christophe looked at Aimery, who was still stroking my nipples. "Do you think he means it?" "Of course I mean it," I interrupted. "Please." Aimery ignored my outburst. "If he meant it, he would have asked what you said before. He's a smart boy; he knows that." Christophe had been exaggerating. He encouraged me to talk while we were making love, to ask him for what I wanted, but I rarely used coarse language. I was even less comfortable saying such things around Aimery, who was not as crude as Christophe. I hesitated, but I wanted them, and they were not going to continue while I was silent. "Please. I -- God, Christophe. Please fuck me. I -- I want this. I want -- I want you. Please." Christophe chuckled. "That's better." He got up on his knees. "Ought to make you say it more often." "Hold on," Aimery said, and looked down at me, though my eyes were not focusing consistently. "Can you do this, Jehan?" "Yes. Please -- please, Aimé." "Do you want us both?" That took me half a moment longer. "Yes. I've never -- but -- please." Aimery touched my cheek and smiled at me. "All right, then." He shifted so that he was on his knees, straddling my chest just below my shoulders. He turned and glanced at Christophe. "You've had your invitation, chéri. What are you waiting for?" Christophe said, "Someone told me to wait," and then gasped, as did I, as he began to fulfill my request. Even after his exceedingly prolonged preparations, I could feel the tension in my body as he slid into me. Aimery touched my forehead and said, "Hush," softly. It was only then that I realized I had been making any noise at all. Christophe held my hips in his hands. Between Aimery's scarves on my wrists, his hands on my face, and Christophe clinging to me even as he thrust into me, I was all but frozen in place. "Do you want this?" Aimery asked me again. I did not immediately know what he meant. I tried to say, "Yes," but Christophe withdrew, then pressed inside me again, and all I could manage was, "Oh, God." Aimery was impatient enough to understand that as the affirmative it was meant to be. He let me take him in my mouth just as Christophe moved again. Aimery braced himself on the headboard. Christophe balanced his weight over my pelvis. I lost myself between them, trying to remember how to please Aimery, and pushing against Christophe until I was full of both of them and mad with the passion of the moment. It had been perhaps an hour since it all began; it felt three times that long. I would probably have woken the neighbors, in the end, if my throat had not been full of Aimery. Christophe said, in a low, choked voice, "God, you're beautiful," to both of us, and his fingers tightened on my hips as he thrust faster for long moments until he stopped, breathing hard. When I could open my eyes again, I looked up at Aimery. His eyes were half shut, but he smiled at me and ran his fingers through my hair. "Sweet Jehan." "I think I need to move," I said, and winced. "I'm sorry." Christophe ran his hands down my legs. "Ah, Jehan. That was lovely." He moved back to sit at the end of the bed, which made us both wince. Aimery grinned at me and moved to the side so that he was no longer sitting on me, then reached up and untied my hands. "Better?" I stretched until my toes brushed Christophe's leg, then relaxed. "Yes. Much better." I reached down and pulled the pillow out. It was rather the worse for wear, and I showed Aimery, who laughed. "Don't worry about it. Not now, anyway. Toss it on the floor." I dropped it on the floor where no one was likely to step on it, then lay back. Aimery embraced me and gave me a kiss. "Thank you for playing along, Jehan." Christophe lay down on the other side of me and hugged us both. "Ought to do it again, I say." I blushed. "Thank you both. It was -- it was lovely." Christophe ruffled my hair, though it was thoroughly disheveled without his contribution. "That's good. I'd hate to hear you say it wasn't." Aimery kissed my cheek. "It was supposed to be lovely." He let me go and sat up to blow out the candle. "Goodnight, mes frères." "Goodnight," I said, and embraced him again. I fell asleep before I heard Christophe say anything.
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