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After their incident, Tango, Impulse, and Zedaph had a long discussion about their boundaries and what they might be into - or not into. And at some point during their talk, Zedaph had found himself admitting that he liked the idea of being watched, or of having someone in the same room as him, during sex.
He still didn’t know if he should be concerned at how quickly both of his boyfriends agreed.
One evening a week later, Tango and him are sitting on a wide couch, with Impulse’s desk facing away from them while he works on megabase plans, and Tango’s just asked with zero shame: “Hey - Zed, can I fuck you right now?”
Zedaph flounders briefly. “I–uh, I mean, yes, of course. Here?” he asks, quickly adding, “I’m all clean, by the way. I, um. I took a shower this morning.”
Tango grins. “Glad to hear it. And yes, if that’s okay with you. Thoughts, Impulse?”
It strikes Zedaph that Tango isn’t asking Impulse if he wants to have sex with them right now. No, he’s asking Impulse if he wants to listen to them have sex.
He starts sweating at the realization.
The back of Impulse’s neck turns faintly red, and he taps his pencil a few times. “Yeah, that’s cool. Just don’t distract me too much.”
He doesn’t turn around when he speaks, his voice carefully even. Zedaph is already fidgeting.
Fixated on Impulse’s turned back, he startles when a light grip is placed on the nape of his neck. It’s not meant to be possessive or commanding - just reassuring, a gentle pressure to ground him.
“Hey,” Tango says softly. “You’re sure you’re good? We can just hang out instead if this is uncomfortable at all.”
He must have noticed Zedaph’s restlessness. Void, he loves his boyfriends so much, Zedaph thinks.
Out loud, he says: “Yeah, I’m all good, I just - I wouldn’t say I’m uncomfortable.” He takes a breath, still adjusting to being so honest about this stuff. “I think I’m more excited, to be frank.”
Tango raises an eyebrow and smirks, “I have to agree.” The hand on Zedaph’s neck moves up, clutching a fistful of his hair. “Fucking you, with Impy right there, listening to us?” He leans in, lowering his voice. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it all week.”
“Oh, jeez,” Zedaph says weakly, just in time for Tango to guide him into a kiss.
It’s slow and careful, nothing like the frenzy of last week, but just as heated nonetheless. Zedaph sighs when Tango gently bites his bottom lip, indecisive of whether to lean into the hand in his hair or the mouth in front of him.
The sounds of their lips and quiet moans fill the room, and there is no doubt that Impulse isn’t paying attention to what they’re doing, not with the way he shifts in his chair. He doesn’t give any other indication that the two of them are making out behind him, however, his head down and his gaze focused on the mess of papers on the desk.
Zedaph shivers in anticipation. Both of his boyfriends have fucked him before, this situation isn’t completely new. It’s the fact that one of them will only be listening to him getting fucked, and that Impulse is going to pretend he can’t, that’s making butterflies erupt inside his stomach.
Will he turn around to watch them? Or will he only hear them, leaving the specifics up to his imagination? Will he be flustered or stoic by the end of this? Zedaph’s thoughts race, and he can’t decide which mental image excites him more.
He doesn’t realize his hands are shaking until Tango whispers against his mouth, “Relax, I’ve got you.”
Zedaph shifts, and leans back until Tango is knelt over him. As they move Tango grabs the hem of his shirt and peels it off, following it with his own, and throws them both onto the floor.
Only a moment is allowed for Zedaph to admire the body above him before Tango dives back in, licking a fiery line up his chest. He squirms, clutching at Tango’s shoulders, and whimpers when a pair of sharp teeth bite into his neck.
“Yeah, you like that, huh?” Tango asks, breathing hotly. “You like it when I bite you, leave you all marked up?”
“Yeah, I do, feels good,” Zedaph sighs, and tilts his head up in a clear request for more. When Tango acquiesces, his moan is unabashed, and he lifts his hips.
A sharp inhale comes from the chair across the room, catching both of their attentions.
Tango’s voice is hoarse when he whispers into Zedaph’s ear - just quiet enough to give the impression that it’s a secret, while also being loud enough that Impulse can still hear. “Looks like old Impy might not be as unaffected as he pretends to be. Why don’t we give him a show?”
Zedaph groans. “Please.”
Impulse drops his pencil.
Tango barely conceals his laugh as he reaches for lube from his pack on the floor. “You wanna take your pants off for me, sweetheart?” he asks Zedaph, undoing his own belt buckle.
Zedaph is wordlessly standing and pulling down his trousers before Tango’s even done speaking.
“How do you want me?” Zedaph says breathlessly. He’s not sure he’s ever been more excited to be fucked in his life. The knowledge that Impulse is sitting right there, that he can hear everything he and Tango are doing, that he’s pretending like Zedaph’s not about to get fucked behind him, has Zedaph twitching.
Tango looks him up and down, biting his lip. “I want you back on this couch, on all fours.”
Zedaph swallows and scrambles into position. Even just that simple request gives him a thrill, and he wonders if these activities are always going to feel this intense.
It doesn’t help that as soon as he gets on all fours Tango smacks the flesh of his ass, sending a shock straight up his spine and making him actually squeak.
The sudden silence from both of his boyfriends speaks volumes.
“...You like that, Zeddy?” Tango rasps.
Fuck, Zedaph thinks. “I, um, I don’t know? That was - yeah,” he stutters out, suddenly tense.
A hot palm gently rubs the spot that was smacked. “That’s - that’s okay. We can talk about it after if you want.”
He relaxes instantly. “Yeah, let’s do that, please.” Zedaph isn’t quite ready to process the fact that Tango spanking him made all three of them briefly forget how to speak - he’s already borderline overwhelmed as it is.
“We can do that, we’re all good,” Tango says.
Later, it occurs to Zedaph that Tango was calming him down and moving them both on from the hiccup, just as much as he was reassuring Impulse, who still hadn’t turned around and was undoubtably worrying. In the moment, however, he’s immediately distracted by the click of a bottle cap and a gelled fingertip circling him.
With one hand resting on his ass, Tango smooths the other hand up his back, pressing down between his shoulder blades to lower his chest to the couch. “There you go, sweetheart. Just relax,” Tango mutters.
Zedaph’s moan is barely muffled by the fabric of the sofa when Tango slides a calloused finger into him. The coolness of the lube is offset by Tango’s heat and his own warmth, and he can’t resist squirming in anticipation.
Two more fingers get added in quick succession, and not a moment later all three of them press against his prostate. Zedaph’s reaction is immediate - a bolt of pleasure shoots through his body and he groans, his toes curling and his hips thrusting reflexively. “Oh, fuck, right there, Tango,” he rambles.
Impulse’s chair creaks dangerously, and Tango chuckles. “You think you’re ready for me, sweetheart?”
Zedaph clutches at the cushion beneath himself. “Yeah - yes, please, I’m so ready.”
“So polite, I bet Impulse appreciates you being such a good boy for me,” Tango says as he withdraws his fingers.
The reminder that it’s not just the two of them makes Zedaph’s heart pound, and he hears the click of the bottle once more before a hot weight presses against his ass. He breathes deeply, trying to relax as Tango eases in and they both let out groans.
“You feel so good, so tight for me,” Tango murmurs into his shoulder. “I love the way you look under me like this, a desperate little mess.”
Zedaph whimpers, ducking his head into his arms.
“Oh, don’t get all shy on me now, sweetheart,” Tango croons. “After all, we want Impulse to hear you, don’t we? It would be a shame for him to miss out on this.” He rolls his hips, his length deliciously heavy and warm inside of Zedaph, and groans as if to make his point.
The drag of Tango thrusting back into him forces a strangled moan from Zedaph’s throat, unbidden, and he hears Tango chuckle.
“There we go, isn’t that a pretty sound. You’re being so good, so sweet, falling apart on my cock like this.” Another thrust, deep and purposeful.
Impulse’s pencil creaks from how tightly he’s holding it, though he still doesn’t look at them.
“Tango,” Zedaph gasps. He’s lightheaded, the combination of the praise and pleasure encasing him entirely and making his legs shake in their spread position.
When Tango sighs behind him, it sends a shiver down his spine. “Come on, let Impulse know how much you’re loving this. I want you to tell him exactly what’s making you feel so good right now.”
Zedaph’s barely coherent, but he wants so badly to be good, to obey the order - because that’s what they all know it is. He can opt out at any point, neither of his boyfriends would make him do something he doesn’t want to, but Tango’s voice has a darkness that it doesn’t have with typical requests. That gravitas, that intensity, makes all of his inhibitions dissolve. It becomes impossible to prevent something deep within himself from jumping to fulfill every request.
Zedaph never thought he would enjoy being pushed around this much.
“Tango–fuck–I love you inside of me, around me, like this. It feels so good–” Zedaph chokes on his moan as Tango presses against a particularly sensitive spot.
His partner hums encouragingly.
“Oh, void, I love being–being told what to do, when you talk this way, like I’m being used and loved at the same time–”
This time it’s Impulse who groans, a quiet thing that barely leaves his lips before getting cut off. Tango huffs a laugh, and grabs Zedaph’s hair to pull his head up.
“You hear that, baby? Someone’s clearly enjoying himself. I want you to look at him, and let him know that we’re here. Make him watch you,” Tango mutters in his ear.
Zedaph scrambles to follow suit. “Yeah, yeah, I can, fuck,” he garbles out. “I need–can you touch me, please, I need it so bad.” While Tango’s warmth pulses rhythmically inside him, his own length has hardly been acknowledged, and it’s beginning to ache.
“You need it, huh?” Tango taunts.
He nods quickly. “I need it, oh please, it hurts, Tango-”
Tango hushes him, releasing his hair to grab his hips with both hands and grinding in deep. “Shh, you’re okay, I’ve got you. Why don’t you tell Impulse, baby? I think you should ask him for permission, if it hurts that bad.”
Zedaph whines, and looks up at Impulse properly for the first time since Tango entered him.
Impulse’s neck is flushed red, and his whole body is tense, his back ramrod straight. His head is tilted slightly towards them, and his leg is bouncing comically fast. Zedaph would be impressed at the restraint Impulse is showing if he wasn’t about to beg him for permission to be touched.
“Impulse,” Zedaph starts. He can barely speak around the spit pooling in his mouth and the pounding of blood in his ears. “Impulse, I need to be touched, please, my - void, Tango -” he interrupts himself as Tango fucks into him hard, pressing directly up against his prostate.
“Keep going,” Tango mutters.
Zedaph squirms underneath him, muffling a reedy moan with his arms. Lifting his head back up, he stares straight at the back of Impulse’s head. “Please, I’ve been - I’m being so good for you, it aches, I need someone to touch me so bad.”
Tears start to build at the corners of his eyes, but as much as they are from a combination of desperation and overstimulation, he can’t actually bring himself to mind them. It all feels so good, and he loves his boyfriends more than he can say - something about being brought to tears in this moment feels right.
His watery gasp when Tango sucks a mark onto the back of his neck and pinches one of his nipples seems to be the last straw for Impulse.
The pencil clatters to the desk, and the chair scrapes loudly against the floor as Impulse stands up and faces them. His eyes are dark, his mouth parted, and he looks seconds away from eating them both alive.
“Tango?” Impulse asks roughly, licking his lips.
“Yeah, Impy?”
Impulse makes direct eye contact with Zedaph. “Touch him.”
Zedaph can barely relish the rush he gets from the order before a red-hot palm cups him, then tugs at his length. His moan is unrestrained, and the heat building throughout his body begins to gather in his gut. It’s rough and dry and overstimulating and Tango is still fucking him and now Impulse is looking at him and Zedaph suddenly finds himself inches from falling over the edge.
He just needs something, one more little thing, to push him over.
That one thing turns out to be Tango sticking two fingers in his mouth for him to suck on and forcing him to make eye contact with Impulse, all while saying: “Come on, you’ve gotten Impulse to look at you, why don’t you give him something worth looking at?”
Zedaph’s mind goes blank. His whole body tenses, hanging in limbo for an infinite tick, before a wave of hot electricity crashes through him, and his whole body shakes. Garbled swears and Impulse and Tango’s names start pouring out of his mouth, incoherent between his pleasure and the fingers in his mouth. The eyes and hands and heat surrounding him is all he registers, all he could possibly be aware of at this moment.
His orgasm feels never-ending, stretched out along anywhere from seconds to days. Zedaph thus has no clue how long it is until he realizes that Tango isn’t inside of him anymore, and that they’re both lying on their sides, Impulse on the floor stroking his hair.
Impulse is the first one who notices he’s aware again. “Hey Zed,” he says softly, brushing hair off of Zedaph’s forehead with a kind smile. “Are you back with us?”
Zedaph smacks his lips. “I can’t feel my legs.”
He can feel it as Tango starts laughing behind him, semi-hysterically. “We’re gonna need to ask Scar for some of his wheelchairs to get home!”
“Oh, jeez,” Impulse chuckles. “Are you feeling okay otherwise, Zed?”
He does a brief body check, flexing his hands and rolling his shoulders. “Um, yeah? A little sore, I guess, but that kind of comes with the territory-”
“No - well, that’s good to hear,” Impulse interrupts, “but I meant, like - how’s your brain doing?”
Tango wriggles his arms around Zedaph’s waist. “Yeah, that got a little intense, and it can be good after this sort of stuff to have some reminders. That we both love you a lot, and that we respect you, that sort of stuff.”
Oh. That makes sense. “I’m good. That was - that was all very good.” Zedaph shifts, his lower back aching. “I enjoyed that. A normal amount.”
Impulse raises an eyebrow, clearly trying not to laugh. “Good to know. Oh, and one more thing, if you’re up for talking about it - what was, well-”
“Are you talking about when I spanked Zed?” Tango says bluntly.
Zedaph covers his face with his hands.
“Yeah, that,” Impulse continues. “I wasn’t sure - is that something that either of you enjoy or want to explore, or did you dislike it?”
It occurs to Zedaph that Impulse couldn’t tell exactly what was going on, given how he was turned away. Still, having Tango just say it like that makes him want to turn into a silverfish and crawl in a hole.
There’s silence for a moment before Tango speaks back up. “I won’t speak for you, Zed, and I also don’t want this to sway your opinion, but I do enjoy it. More spank-ing than getting spanked, but I’m not a picky eater.”
Zedaph peeks through his fingers at the pair.
Impulse waits a moment, then nods. “Yeah, I like it as well, though spanking someone else is much hotter to me than getting spanked - that just doesn’t really do anything for me.”
Zedaph lowers his hands.
Impulse smiles at him. “What are your thoughts, Zed?” he gently prompts.
Zedaph clears his throat. “Well - I, I guess I don’t hate it. Getting spanked. That is,” Zedaph says haltingly.
“So what I did earlier - was that okay?” Tango asks.
He wiggles his feet, looking at the floor as his previously waning blush returns. “Yeah, that - I liked. That.”
“Thank you for telling us,” Impulse affirms. “I just wanted to make sure if that was something either of you were uncomfortable with. And I have to say - I would not be adverse to seeing that the next time we do something like this.”
The three of them talk for a while more until Tango complains of feeling sticky. Zedaph makes Impulse carry him to the bathroom, claiming his legs are too weak for him to walk, and they stay in the bath until the water gets cold.
Zedaph loves his boyfriends more than he can describe, and he’ll be voided if he doesn’t let them know that every chance he gets.