Chapter Text
“Hey, boss,” Mick greeted him and knelt on the bed on his hands and knees so he could lean down to kiss Len’s forehead. “I heard you need cuddles and a nap?”
Len just nodded, feeling himself pout as he reached out for both of them. Quickly, both Master and Mick got rid of their clothes and crawled into the bed with him, Master so he could take Len into his arms again just like before, and Mick snuggling up behind him, his arms wrapped around Len’s middle.
“He’s still deep under,” Len heard Master say as the weighted blanket was being tugged up around his shoulders. “And be careful with the back of his thighs, please. They are quite sensitive and tender at the moment.”
“Will do,” Mick murmured, and Len felt his lips against the back of his head. “Go to sleep, Lenny. We got you.”
Len hummed and snuggled closer into Master, letting one of his hands slide down so he could hold onto the arm Mick had placed around his waist, so he wouldn’t disappear while he slept. And just like before, it didn’t take long at all for Len to doze off, exhaustion taking a toll on him after the week he’d just had.
When he next woke, he could feel the sun shine on his face through the window, and he was warm and comfortable and snuggled safely between two warm bodies, and the weighted blanket was pushing him down just enough that it was perfect and he never wanted to leave this space. He kept his eyes closed and listened to Master and Mick talk, in hushed, quiet voices so they wouldn’t disturb Len. They were so thoughtful . . . Len was the luckiest man in the world, really.
“So . . . you’re saying you like being a Dom because it . . . takes control away?” Mick sounded a bit incredulous, and Len relished the way Master’s chest vibrated a little with a held-back laugh.
“Something like that, yeah. It’s like . . . Len gives me all the power, but he has all the control. He sets the boundaries, he tells me when things need to slow down or stop; anything I can do with the power he gives me, he can control because I’ll never do something with it that he doesn’t want. We’ll discuss things upfront, and then his boundaries dictate what I can do with the power he gives me. It’s funny, most submissive people like the idea of giving up control, of handing it all over to the dominant person and not needing to care about a thing, while really, they are still so much in control . . . they just choose not to act upon it in that moment. And really, that’s so powerful. There’s nothing more powerful than having someone who chooses to submit to you, who finds you worthy of being handed control over their lives, to have their wellbeing in your hand, to be in charge of everything they are for a while . . . It’s a rush, I tell you. I know it’s not for everyone, but for me it’s . . . there’s nothing quite like it. Every time Len goes to his knees for me, I’m so grateful again . . . so grateful that he chooses me as the person he hands control to, the person he allows to have power over him. I’m a very lucky man.”
There was a bit of silence, and then Mick’s lips were on Len’s head in a soft and gentle kiss. “The way you describe it . . . sounds much better than it just . . . being about the chains and the beating.”
“For me, it’s not about the chains and the beating at all, those are just tools to visualize what is happening inside our heads. It’s sometimes easier to stay in a headspace with palpable hints . . . a collar, ropes, you name it. But really, they are all just . . . décor. None of it is needed. All that’s needed is two adults who have enough trust in each other to brave a situation like that.”
“Len’s lucky to have you, Doll,” Mick murmured, and Len had to agree with him. The way Barry saw the BDSM side of their relationship was nothing new to him, but it still warmed his heart, to hear him explain it to Mick like this. Master was always like this . . . always so. Gentle. Sweet. Caring.
“I’m lucky to have him, really,” Master murmured and pressed a kiss to Len’s head right about where Mick had placed it just moments ago, then stilled. “I think someone’s back with us . . . Hey love, how are you doing?”
Len blinked his eyes open and looked at Master’s smiling face, frowning at the sun that was blinding him, so he shuffled down enough that Master was blocking out the sun for him, and it was much better. He hummed contently and nuzzled into Master’s chest, not quite willing to verbally acknowledge his being awake yet.
And Master, apparently sensing this, let him drift for a bit longer while he chatted with Mick about the con Mick had been at, presenting his newest novel.
After a while, though, he was starting to feel a bit too warm, and his mouth was still a lot too dry, so he gently tugged on Master’s arm to get his attention.
“Can I . . . water, please?” he asked, and let Mick and Master wrangle him upright so Master could hand him the cup again, which he drained this time, immediately feeling better.
“Good boy. How about breakfast? Are you hungry?” Master asked him, and as if on cue, Len’s stomach grumbled. He flushed and looked to the side, while Master and Mick just laughed good-naturedly.
“Okay, how about this. I’ll go to the living room and do a bit of quick clean-up so our stuff is put to one side, and then one of us cooks breakfast while the other cuddles with you on the sofa?”
Len nodded at that but frowned a bit as he stared outside at the sun.
“. . . Time is it?”
“It’s about eleven now. It was only around five when I got you into bed, and Mick arrived at eight,” Master explained, and Len nodded. That made sense . . . somehow. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, then winced as his tender thighs complained about being moved around.
Mick lifted the blanket behind him, presumably to check what had Len wincing, and then dropped it again. “What did you do to him, Doll? Poor guy’s thighs are all red . . .”
“Well, I don’t kiss and tell, so,” Master hummed and then leaned over to kiss first Mick and then Len on the lips. “You can come to the living room in a couple of minutes, I won’t take long,” he promised, and then he was gone, leaving Len with just Mick for company.
“Hey, boss . . . how you doin’?” Mick asked him after a few moments of silence, and Len gave him a tired smile before slumping over into Mick’s strong chest.
“Good,” he murmured, allowing himself to be held by his husband. “Tired. Sore. Happy.”
A chuckle from Mick made him look up, an eyebrow raised. “Tired, sore, happy is a good after-sex expression . . . but I know you didn’t get any, but still sounds good.”
“I’ll have you know we even played with a dildo,” Len protested. He’d gotten a lot from Barry in the past week, . . . just no sex, but he hadn’t wanted that anyway.
“Yeah? Fancy.” And with that, Len found himself lifted up in Mick’s arms and carried out of the bedroom, back into the living room. They sat down on the sofa, and Len looked around. There was no trace anymore of the things that Barry had kept in the living room all week, apart from a blanket-covered neat pile in the corner. Barry himself was just walking out of the kitchen with a smile on his face.
“Pancakes are already cooking, so we can have breakfast soon,” he explained, waving around with a spatula as if to underline what he was saying. He smiled at the two of them, and Len gave him a smile back before nuzzling into Mick’s neck and hiding his face there, not quite ready to face the world yet. Mick just laughed and wrapped his arms around Len, holding him close and safe and comfortable.
“So . . . what’s the plan for today?”
“There’s not really a plan,” Barry replied, then paused as he stepped back into the kitchen, supposedly to do something to the pancakes.“ Letting Lenny slowly surface, giving him all the cuddles and snuggles and whatever else he wants,” He came to sit next to Len and started gently rubbing his back. “What do you want to do today, darling?”
Len pouted a bit into Mick’s neck, then shrugged. “Cuddles?” he asked, causing both of his partners to chuckle.
“Cuddles it is, then. And I don’t know, maybe we can take a walk in the afternoon or evening or so? We’ll see how we’re doing by then. Or did you have something in mind, Mick?”
“Nah, I just came here so I could be with you again . . . didn’t see you for long enough the past week. Plus cuddles. So . . . sounds good to me.”
By the time Barry was done with cooking the pancakes, Len had been wrangled into some underwear and an old, comfy T-shirt by Mick, and he was sitting up again, slowly starting to feel a bit more like himself again.
Barry sat on his free side and handed out the plates with pancakes, but as Len took his, his hands shook so much he nearly dropped it. He knew it wasn’t all that heavy, but he was still tired and exhausted and not very functioning at all.
“Can you feed me?” He looked at Barry, and of course, Barry nodded. He took a moment to put Len’s stack of pancakes on his own plate as well, then proceeded to feed both himself and Len, taking care not to spill any syrup on the sofa.
A bit later, with some carbs and sugar in his system and after two more glasses of water, Len felt himself perk up a little more, but still, all he wanted to do was cuddle. And so they did, with Mick and Barry continuing to sandwich Len between them so he was always held and cradled and it was so warm and comfortable . . . Len could take another nap like this. But he resisted, instead chiming in on the lighthearted chatter that Barry and Mick were exchanging.
After a while of that, though, things got to be a bit much somehow. Suddenly, Barry’s care felt overbearing, and his warm, safe cocoon of snuggles became too hot, suddenly felt restrictive. He pushed himself up and climbed from the sofa, stretching, and relishing in the fact that he could move however he wanted to.
“I’m going to step outside for a bit,” he murmured and pointed at the balcony door, then snatched up his phone on the way there. He could feel Barry’s puzzled gaze following him but didn’t look back. Suddenly, he needed to be alone for a bit.
It was cool outside, but the soft wind felt amazing on Len’s skin, and he relished in the way there were goosebumps on his legs and how the wind tugged on his shirt. He leaned against the railing and turned on his phone, then just stood there and enjoyed the view while it started.
Once he’d checked all his notifications but pointedly ignored any work emails, he quickly texted Lisa, saying that he’d had a great week and was spending the day with Mick and Barry still before they’d come back, but that he was available again. Lisa, who knew full-well how Len thought about sex, sent him an eggplant emoji for his troubles.
Len sent her a raised middle finger in return.
He’d been on the balcony for about ten minutes before the door to the living room opened and Mick stepped out.
“Just checkin’ how you’re doing,” he grumbled and stood beside Len, leaning against the railing just like Len did.
“Yeah . . . good. Just needed to, I don’t know, needed to be alone for a moment, find myself as a person again? That sounds weird, but . . . yeah. All I did, all I thought the past week was related to Barry, I needed a few moments to be . . . just Len again, you know? Just . . . yeah.”
“Makes sense, I guess,” Mick shrugged, then looked at him sharply. “But the week was good?”
There was an underlying thread of worry there, and Len knew that for someone on the outside of Barry’s and his relationship, it wasn’t always easy to see whether Barry had overstepped his boundaries. But he shook his head and placed his hand on Mick’s. “The week was amazing. I’m exhausted and need like two days of sleep, but . . . it was great.” He sighed, not sure how to put into words how he felt about this, how much Barry meant to him.
“He’s a keeper, ain’t he?”
Sometimes, Len forgot for a moment that the man he’d been married to for twenty-five years not only knew him inside out but could also read him better than an open book he’d written himself.
“Yeah. Yeah, Mick, he is.”
“The forever kind?” Mick asked him and turned around, so his back was against the railing now, allowing him to study Len’s face in the way he tended to when he wanted to get to the bottom of things.
Len swallowed and looked away as if hiding his face from Mick would hide his emotions from him. “Yeah . . . yeah, the forever kind.”
“Why not make it official, then?”
“Mick, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m already married.” He turned around again, facing Mick again. But instead of looking taken aback, Mick just smiled at him.
“Yeah, I noticed. There are plenty of officiants who’ll do unconventional weddings, though. Poly ones as well. Won’t be legal, but it’ll still be a marriage. If that’s what we want.”
“Who’s getting married?” Barry asked, poking his head out of the door. “Wanted to ask what you guys want for lunch?”
Len opened his mouth, ready to change the subject, but Mick beat him to it, simply grinning at Barry’s. “You’re getting married. Hopefully. To us.”
That stunned Barry into silence for a moment, and then he stepped out on the balcony with them, blinking into the sun for a moment.
“I hope you didn’t mean that as a serious proposal. You know I’m a very romantic person, Mick. I want the whole deal. Candlelight dinner, flowers, proposal down on one knee, a ring . . . I’m not a proposal-in-underwear-on-a-balcony kind of guy.”
“But then you’ll say yes?” Len asked, and Barry looked at him with pure mirth in his eyes.
“Well, I didn’t say no now, did I?”
He then stepped forward and grabbed first Len and then Mick to pull them in for a kiss. “But . . . let’s talk about that first, yeah? I know it sounds romantic and all but . . . let’s talk first about how that would work out, please? Living situation, finances, all that shit . . . I want to know we’re on the same page before we get married.”
Len nodded, but couldn’t hold back a smile, which Barry returned before leaning in for a longer kiss this time.
“Now, you guys. What do you want for lunch?”
“Do you still have leftovers from that Indian food you made?” Len asked and watched Mick’s eyes get bigger as he heard that.
“You made Indian for Lenny? I want some too.”
“That’s settled then, I’ll go heat it up,” Barry hummed, then winked at them both and disappeared back into the living room.
There was a minute or two of silence, and then Len burst out laughing.
“I can’t believe you proposed to him . . . in your underwear. On the balcony.”
“Well, he said yes, didn’t he?” Mick volleyed back, and Len had to incline his head in agreement.
“As good as, yeah. So . . . are we getting a bigger closet? Because Barry needs to put his stuff somewhere when he moves in with us.”
***
After dinner, they did take a walk around the area their holiday apartment had been in, and Len was pretty sure that Barry had not chosen this apartment because of its amazing location or any touristy qualities at all. After being asked as much, Barry just chuckled.
“Nah. It had good soundproofing ratings.”
Well, that explained a lot, then.
“Oh gosh, I don’t even want to know,” Mick chuckled, dramatically covering his ears. Len stopped walking in the middle of the street so he could look around to see that they weren’t being watched—not that that mattered much, anymore—and then he pulled Mick into a kiss. “So we won’t tell you then,” he promised and continued to hold hands with his husband for the rest of the walk.
The evening was spent cuddled on the couch, and somehow Barry had managed to bake some of his divine shortbread cookies with cranberries and pistachios that Len adored so much, and when he brought them out, Len immediately made grabby hands for them, taking the whole plate from Barry and depositing it in his lap. He’d share with his partners, but all the calories he’d burnt in the past week and the good submissive boy he’d been surely meant that he was now allowed to have control of the amazing melt-in-your-mouth sugary, buttery, sent-you-straight-to-heaven-experience that was Barry’s cookies. Barry chuckled as he handed the plate over and pressed a kiss to Len’s forehead. “You know, with that blue weighted blanket around you, making grabby hands for cookies . . . you’re a veritable cookie monster.”
Len didn’t find anything bad in that, so he just grinned and shrugged it off, and gave himself over to the bliss that was the first still-warm-from-the-oven cookie.
Mick insisted they watch some clips that had been taken on the con he’d been at, and they all snickered at some of the fans, screeching and screaming for Rebecca Silver and looking at Mick with awe in their eyes when they got to take a picture of him, and thanking him profusely for signing their copy of his books.
“You like it,” Barry remarked halfway through, and Mick’s only response was to take another sip from his beer bottle.
“You like it when the love of your fans is so palpable. You love to talk to them about your books, about what made you write the characters the way they are. You like it when they accept you as you are, gloves and leather jacket and grumpy face, even though they might have expected a woman with an updo and stiletto heels.”
Mick just shrugged and handed Barry his beer in acknowledgement of the truth of his statement. Barry took a sip, pulled a face, and handed it back. Len just chuckled. He loved it when Mick rewarded Barry by giving him a sip of his beer, a beverage that Barry couldn’t stand. And yet, he always took a sip of it, and just like now, he always flicked Mick on the nose afterwards.
When they were cuddled up in bed later, Len couldn’t help but feel sad that their time here was drawing to an end. After cookies and beer and watching Mick be fawned over, he and Barry had brought all their toys and equipment down to the car already, so they wouldn’t need to load up in the morning. The fridge was already empty save for the things they would need for breakfast, and all but the last change of clothes was already stored in their suitcases again, which were just waiting for their pyjamas to be tossed in in the morning before they left.
Len watched Mick’s face, already relaxed with sleep and lax even though his arms were tightly wrapped around Len as if he was afraid Len would try to leave during the night. He kissed his husband’s nose and then turned around to face Barry, who was watching him sleepily. Len could tell that he was on the edge of sleep already, and he could feel sleep pulling on himself as well. He snuggled in closer, his own arms wrapping around Barry after pulling the duvet and the weighted blanket higher up, relishing in the gentle weight that was pressing him down so comfortably.
Just as he was drifting off to sleep, something floated to the top of his mind, and he turned his head just enough to nose at the fluff of the weighted blanket before settling down again.
“Barry?”
“Yeah, darling?” Barry sounded sleepy, slurring a bit, and Len had never heard a more adorable sound.
“Thank you for the new aftercare blanket.”