Chapter Text
Blake POV
The smell of sex was something Blake would never get used to. Body fluids and other things he didn’t want to think about, he could never place all the different parts that mixed to make that horrible smell.
That, combined with the feeling of the sheen of cooling sweat across his body, the feeling of cum drying and sticking to him, and the fatigue of his muscles. All of it, of course, paled in comparison to the sharp pain.
“You sore bud?”
“Yeah.” Blake mumbled.
His dad took out the bottle of Motrin he kept in the side table drawer. He shook one of the small white pills into Blake’s hand and gave him his own cup of water to wash it down.
“Ok, get to bed bud. Remember to be quiet, don’t wake up your mom.”
Blake pulled on his clothes and started up the stairs out of the basement. “I know, I won’t.”
He wandered slowly up to the kitchen and walked right past a container of brownies his mom must have made, but paid no attention to them. He had no appetite.
Up the stairs and past his parents room. He didn’t bother sneaking, he knew his mom took sleeping pills. Like always, he wondered how much she knew. Did she suspect? Was she completely blind, or just intentionally ignorant?
He quietly opened his bedroom door and stood for a moment, watching the two people together in one of the three beds in the room.
At least he had this. This one good thing in his life. Well… two good things, technically. But they always felt like one being. All three of them together.
He closed the door and started undressing. They had no real personal awkwardness about their bodies. They had the same ones after all. And they always slept naked.
Their mom always said they were miracle babies. After two failed pregnancies and several rounds of IVF they had almost given up on having children. Then the triplets came.
They were double miracles because of the kind of triplets they were. Identical, not just their hair, or eyes, or bodies, but down to their DNA. Even before they really knew what DNA was, mom told them it was their blood. Everyone had unique blood, but theirs was the same. The fertilized egg that created them split not once but twice. Creating three identical children. A one in a million chance, according to the doctors.
Aiden and Corey lay, arms wrapped around each other, like usual. They each had their own bed but they always shared just one. They were pretty sure it went back to before they were born. The three of them had shared one placenta and had been holding onto each other since before birth. Maybe, in some way, that was why it was so comforting to be intertwined like this.
As Blake got close they stirred, as if sensing his approach. They never slept well when one of them was in the basement with dad, which was most nights. They slept fitfully until their wayward womb mate returned.
Without really looking at him or even opening their eyes, they shifted to accommodate him. Corey opened his arms, while Aiden moved down slightly, making room for Blake in his usual spot. He slid in across from and facing Corey. Aiden nestled himself half between and half on top of them, his face pressed into their sides, and his arms wrapping around both his brothers.
Corey had laid one arm out on the mattress for Blake to lay on and wrapped the other around Aiden. Corey opened his eyes briefly to look into Blake’s. No words needed to be exchanged. Blake knew they could both smell Dad all over him. They didn’t mind, they were as used to it as he was.
Blake broke eye contact to bury his face into the crook of Corey’s neck, sandwiching his head between Corey’s and the pillow.
He let their combined warmth envelop him, the smell of their shampoo and body wash and natural musk overpowered the smell of sex and debauchery. He wrapped his arm around Corey’s head and pulled him in tighter. Wanting to be even closer, to feel even safer.
As long as he had them it was alright. He could deal with it, all of it. Dad, the basement, the pictures, the videos, the pain, even the humiliation and powerlessness. As long as he had his other two thirds, he could deal with anything.
Gus POV
Gus laughed at a particularly unfunny joke from the old woman driving the gold minivan he had just finished working on. Stories about her many pets had stopped being amusing a good 20 minutes before.
“They say I really shouldn’t be driving with eyes like these.” She pointed at her bloodshot, silver glasses framed eyes.
Gus actually genuinely smiled at that comment as he watched her floor it out of the garage. He winced as she rounded a corner just a bit too fast and disappeared. It would be a wonder if she got home without killing someone, or herself.
But that wasn’t his problem. He checked to make sure there were no more cars left on the waiting list and sighed when he realized he was done for the day.
He went to the office next to the garage and found Art and Carson, laughing at their phones and tittering to each other like high schoolers and not grease covered mechanics. They were preparing to leave for the day and playfully shoving each other.
“Hey boss man, we’re going to String’s for drinks. Want to come?” Art asked as they passed him.
Gus shook his head. “No thanks.”
“Oh come on.” Carson groaned. “Vicky said she’s got a friend who’s available. We gotta get you out there!”
Gus rolled his eyes. They were always doing this. Always meddling. When he had first hired them they had always tried prying about any girlfriends or side pieces he might have. He had deflected them all, and eventually they had taken his rebuttals to mean he was single and in some desperate need of love.
“I’ve got my own plans fellas.” Gus said nonchalantly.
“Sure.” Art replied sarcastically. “Let us know how those plans go, yeah?”
Gus waved offhandedly as they left and sighed after he heard the door close behind them.
After he finished closing up the auto shop he drove home. He lived outside the city, a long drive from the shop, but he liked his privacy. His house was large and sat on a tree lined acre of land, just large enough he still had neighbors on either side, but still had peace and quiet. Most of the people who lived around him were either old retirees or rich people who worked in suits and ties in the city. This was premium real estate.
But Gus never felt self conscious in his dirty coveralls around those people. He was happy working with his hands, he would never choose working at a desk over real man's work.
He hurried inside to clean up and shower. After finishing and changing into his casual clothes, he grilled a steak and some vegetables.
He was finishing his usual meal when he checked his watch and saw it was almost 7. He sat quickly at his computer and messaged Brent to see if he was online.
Gus had a life a lot of people would probably want. Sure his work hours could be long, but he owned that auto shop, so he could technically set his own hours. He made more than enough money to be comfortable. The only thing some might question was how empty his big, nice house was.
No wife, or girlfriend. No children. Just a large ranch house with nothing to fill the emptiness but overly expensive furniture, his dog, and art an interior decorator had chosen for him.
But Gus didn’t care about their questions or judgments. They wouldn’t like the truth if they learned it. They wouldn’t invite him to their homes for parties or call him a good man after he donated money and time to a local charity. They wouldn’t even want him living in their neighborhood.
They were all hypocrites, of course. Most of them were more of a drain on society than a benefit. They did a lot less for the world than he did. And yet they would dare to judge his preferences in bed?
Gus had gotten himself a beer from the fridge by the time three bouncing dots appeared, next to Brent’s initials BR, at the bottom of the chat box on his computer.
He rolled his eyes at how many times the dots popped up, then disappeared, then came back up again. A sure sign Brent was typing and retyping, editing and re-editing his reply. It was a normal occurrence with Brent though. Gus hated the obvious pussy behavior, but he tolerated it.
He tolerated a lot about Brent he would normally never stand for. The guy was a forty something college dropout from the way he told it. He had no job and was a stay at home dad. So weak he let his wife be the breadwinner for the family. Oh sure, he claimed to be a “writer.” But from Gus’s Google searches, he could see he only had two published books and neither were worth much.
Finally Brent sent his message.
BR: Hey! Sorry, Stacey wanted to have another “talk” so I was delayed.
Gus snorted derisively at that. She wasn’t just the breadwinner, she wore the damn pants in the relationship.
GP: All good man! She still bothering you? What’s her problem now?
BR: Ohhhhh you know the usual, says I’m not open and affectionate enough with her.
‘She doesn’t think you fuck her enough. Or maybe at all.’ Gus thought. Brent sent another message.
BR: She says I’m not doing my part in the relationship.
Gus rolled his eyes again. ‘Here we go.’
GP: Bullshit! I’m sorry but I’ve gotta say, you take care of the boys while she’s working. She never has to worry about school or appointments or anything like that because you’re always there. She doesn’t realize how lucky she is!
Gus almost groaned at how thick he was laying it on. But Brent was really one of those guys who needed to be propped up by other people.
BR: Thanks man.
Now that he had completed his almost daily task of temporarily reaffirming Brent’s self belief, he moved on to what he spent all day waiting for.
GP: How are the boys?
BR: Good, Corey got into trouble for talking in class too much. But that’s nothing new lol.
GP: And Blake, how is he? You mentioned he was still hurting yesterday?
BR: He’s feeling better. There’s no blood or anything. He didn’t need a pill for the pain today so that’s a good sign. But I took a picture and I was wondering if you would take a look.
Gus instantly felt his dick start to stiffen.
GP: Ha! What do you think? Have I ever turned down a picture of those sexy demons?
There was a long pause before Brent started typing a response, making Gus suddenly nervous.
BR: You are more experienced with this sort of thing. Could you tell me if you think it looks unusual? I want to make sure he isn’t torn or anything. I just feel awful I might have gone too hard.
Gus shook his head. This guy treated those boys like glass. But it was true that Gus was much more experienced with “this sort of thing” than Brent was. Even though Brent was more than a decade older than him. Gus mentally shifted back into the kind of guy Brent thought and hoped he was. He had let his horniness override his judgment.
GP: Of course bro! Send it to me.
Even before the image arrived Gus’s mind was already whirring with ideas. This might well be the chance he had been waiting for.
Another message popped up from Brent. For a moment it was just the abstract image icon as the picture loaded. Then it expanded.
Even after almost five months of messaging with Brent and receiving so many pictures and even a few videos of those boys, he had to just marvel at the sight on the screen.
A close up picture of the boy’s hole. His cheeks pulled apart by boyish fingers, stretching the pale, creamy skin above, below, and around the small pink muscle in the middle. No trace of hair anywhere, smooth as silk.
He had to fight the urge to pull out his cock and beat off right then. He could do that later. It was time to finally rope this calf he’d been circling for months.
GP: It does look red and a little puffy. Honestly it’s hard to tell just from a picture on the outside.
BR: Would a video be better? I could record from a few angles, maybe try to get a better shot.
‘Alright here we go.’ Gus was almost giddy.
GP: Honestly, I don’t think it would really help. The only way I could be sure he didn’t have a tear inside would be to inspect him in person.
Gus hit send as soon as he finished typing and waited. He locked his fingers together behind his head and cracked them, a nervous habit. This was the moment of truth. Either Brent would finally decide to meet up in person or he would run off like a scared deer.
No dots appeared in the chat box for a long while. Brent was thinking without even trying to type. Gus knew what he looked like and could picture him sitting in a dark room, nervously running through the possibilities.
The next response came without warning.
BR: I’m not sure man.
Gus gulped, but didn’t lose heart. It wasn’t a no. And if he’d learned anything about Brent, he usually wanted to be persuaded if he didn’t say no immediately.
GP: Look I know you’re worried about introducing them to anyone else. But you know me. I’m not some stranger. Obviously I’d love to see them in person, I’ve told you that but I do also want to check Blake and to make sure he’s ok. A tear can be a nasty thing, even a small one.
Gus sat back again to regard the lack of bouncing dots. Maybe he had pushed too fast. He had spent months getting to know Brent, had he just ruined it? A desperate idea spurred him to type another message.
GP: And I’m worried about you. You’re my friend. Honestly my only friend. The only one who gets me. If there is something really wrong it’s not like you can take him to a doctor to ask. I want to make sure you’re covered.
The truth? Well…what was the truth anyway. It was accurate to say Gus didn’t really have friends like a normal person would. And Brent was probably the person he talked to the most these days.
As for the tear…it wasn’t a tear. Gus knew from experience, if a boy had any sort of real problem down there, the pain would at best hold steady, and certainly wouldn’t be improving like Brent described. From the picture he was barely even worn. Gus had seen pictures and videos with Brent’s cock in them. He didn’t even get to a full five inches. And he definitely wasn't girthy. Those boys had it easy. Nothing like what Gus could give them.
Finally the three dots appeared and started bouncing. And Gus was sure he had done it.