Chapter Text
Hutch didn’t regret what they’d done. He regretted that he couldn’t just be normal about it, but that was a different story. When it came down to it, he liked being touched, really he did, and he wanted to be touched again, a lot, and often. If only he could push the bad thoughts out of his mind.
He’d worried at first that the Sniper would be weird about it. He’d been so soft and vulnerable in bed, and it made Hutch fear that he would develop soft and vulnerable feelings for the Handyman. He’d awoken that Saturday morning on his sofa, and found he had been draped in a blanket while he slept. The Sniper had left, his van already gone from in front of Hutch’s cabin. For the best really, even if it made something inside him feel cold.
His mood had brightened a little later, while working at the Blu base. He was fixing the rolling door in the loading bay, the mechanism of which was constantly getting stuck and broken. The Blu’s breezed past him with little more than a cursory nod, as they usually did. He didn’t mind. It was their day off from being blown up and maimed, he didn’t expect them to give him the time of day.
He was wiping grease onto the front of his uniform when he felt someone step up beside him. Looking up, he saw the Sniper, a mild expression on his face. He was holding a chipped mug of coffee out to Hutch, and all the bare vulnerability from the night before was tucked back behind those orange lensed glasses.
Hutch took the coffee from the other man, and uncertainly said, “Thanks.” He glanced around, checking the bay was empty. In the distance, he could hear the Blu Scout arguing with the Soldier, but they were far away, and out of sight. Hutch looked back up at the Sniper expectantly. “Can I… help you?”
The Sniper kept a respectable gap between them, careful not to encroach on Hutch’s personal space, as he said, “I don’t wanna spook you, mate, alright? I enjoyed last night, and I wouldn’t mind a repeat. But I just wanna make sure you know I ain’t looking for flowers or chocolates or nothing like that, because I get the sense you’re worried I’m gonna get hung up on ya.” Damn. Snipers really were observant.
Hutch looked down into his coffee. “Yeah… I… was a little worried. I’m not really available. I mean. I am, obviously. But only physically.” Sniper nodded, like that made perfect sense, and replied, “That’s alright with me. Anytime you want, yeah? You can come find me anytime.” He went to walk away then, but Hutch caught his hand before he could think better of it. The Sniper paused, waiting for Hutch to say something, but he couldn’t get any words out. Eventually, he just squeezed the Australian’s hand, hoping he’d understand what he meant. The Sniper smiled, and winked, and Hutch knew he’d go back to him no matter how much of a bad idea it might have been.
And he did. Never in his cabin again, and never anything more than a quickie in some secluded corner, or the cramped space of Sniper’s camper. This turned out to suit Hutch much better, as their hurried actions didn’t leave time for his brain to work itself into a panic.
One afternoon, he found himself leaning with his hands braced on Sniper’s dining table, his uniform pushed down below his hips as the fully dressed Australian pounded into him from behind. His prick, which was half obeying his command to enjoy itself, as long as he didn’t think too hard about it, was drooling precum copiously down his thighs. The Sniper’s hands were warm and firm where they gripped the meat of his hips, and Hutch was so blissed out he thought he could very well fall asleep like this, were it not for the fact that his lunch break was over in ten minutes.
Sniper growled and bit the crook of Hutch’s neck when he came, thankfully into the condom they’d both accepted made sense for easy clean up. His hands petted Hutch’s chest and belly, dutifully staying above his waist, as he carefully pulled out. Looking down between them, the Sniper hissed, “Crikey love, look at you. You’re so wet.”
Hutch, who had been simply trying to stay awake and alert, mumbled, “Hm?” and looked down at himself. The Sniper was right. His uniform had slipped down to his ankles, and his legs were glistening with the precum the other man had fucked out of him. “Oh,” he said, feeling self conscious. The Sniper pressed against his back, kissing his neck, and said, “You want me to get you something to clean up with? Or I can get you off, if you like, we’ve time.” They didn’t, there wasn’t enough time in the world to get Hutch off. “Just a towel, thanks Mick,” the Handyman murmured, despite the fire in his belly.
The Sniper obliged, fetching Hutch the requested towel and standing by him as he wiped himself down. The Australian ran the back of his fingers down Hutch’s bare arm, and the Handyman allowed it. Sometimes it felt like the Sniper was treating him like a feral animal that needed to be acclimated slowly to being touched, but he didn’t mind that too much. Clearly feeling bold, he leaned in, and pressed a kiss to the pulse of Hutch’s neck, making him have to hold back a soft sigh. “Careful, love,” Hutch said, aware that the danger in his voice was laced with the irony that he was speaking to a nigh on immortal killing machine. “Sorry,” whispered the Sniper, and then said, “You do know my name, then.” Hutch blinked. Shite. He had called him Mick, hadn’t he. He swallowed, “Uh yeah. Guess I do. Know all your names actually.” He pulled up his uniform, zipping the jumpsuit up, before taking his comb from his pocket to smooth back his hair.
Sniper leaned against the edge of his dining table, and smirked, arms folded. “And how many of those names have you yelled out when you’re on your own at home?” None was the honest answer to that, because Hutch still couldn’t rub one out without horrific flashbacks. He didn’t say that though, just shrugging, and replying, “Hm. Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Sniper just cocked his eyebrows, and said casually, “I would, actually, mate. Because then I’d send them your way. Maybe they’d succeed where I’ve failed, and make you come, yeah?”
Hutch shot him a wide eyed look then, startled, and worried that he’d somehow angered the other man with his lacking ability. But the Sniper just leaned in, looking soft, and said, “Don’t look so bloody frightened, I’m not put out about it. It’d be nice to see you let go but… well. Don’t worry about it, love, yeah? I like you the same either way.”
Hutch didn’t know what to say to that. Briefly, very briefly, he leaned in, pressed his face into the crook of the Sniper’s neck in the timid approximation of a hug. “I like you too. Either way. Please don’t ask me about it again.” A gentle hand came to rub Hutch’s back, and the Sniper rumbled, “Alright love. I'm sorry.” Hutch pulled back, clearing his throat, and said, “I better get back to work.” He turned away, and presently felt a sharp smack on one of his arse cheeks. Leering over his shoulder, the Sniper whispered, “I will send ‘em your way though, darl’. All of ‘em. You deserve to be fucked silly as hard and as often as you need.” Hutch felt himself heating at that, and pressed back against the man behind him. Needless to say he was late back to work that day.
Hutch felt the situation was working out as best in his favour as it possibly could. Regular sex was good for him, even if he wasn’t getting the most physical pleasure out of it. Every few days he’d awake from a confusing and sometimes terrifying dream to find his sheets sticky and wet, like he was a fucking teenager again, but he could handle that if it meant someone was actually putting their hands on him regularly.
He never mentioned why it was like this for him. No one knew. Well. Pauling knew, she’d been the one to break him out of jail, smuggle him across the Atlantic and offer him a job, stellar little bird that she was. But aside from that. He wasn’t about to go broadcasting his history to anyone, even if they were coming in his arse on the regular. Especially if they were, in fact.
Hutch thought at first that the Sniper hadn’t been serious when he said he’d send the other Blu’s his way. He didn’t mind. If he caught their interest, wonderful. If not, well, it wasn’t like the Sniper was a bad shag. He didn’t mind playing with just one fella.
This changed one late afternoon, while Hutch was busy refitting a door in the base onto new hinges, the old ones having shattered after being kicked in one too many times. He was whistling tunelessly between his teeth as he screwed the new hinges to the wall, not particularly aware of his surroundings, as was fairly common when he was working. He felt safest on base after all, and had no reason to be nervous. Usually.
Hutch almost pissed himself in terror when a pair of hands slammed on either side of him, smacking into the wall, and pinning him there. He spun around in the tight space between his assailant’s arms, ready to drive the screwdriver in his hand straight into their eye. As he turned however, he registered the blue uniform sleeve, and as his back pressed against the door frame, he found himself staring at the broad, thickly muscled figure of the Blu team’s soldier. The American only had a couple of inches of height on Hutch, but still managed to loom over him threateningly.
“What the fuck are you playing at?” Hutch asked. He tried to sound stern, but his voice came out thin. The soldier stared down at him with unnervingly pale eyes, and said in that gruff voice of his, “Mick says you’re good for it.” Was that a threat? Hutch elected to play dumb. “I beg your pardon?” The soldier crowded him closer to the wall. “The sniper. He said you’re good for a fuck.”
Hutch felt his face turning red in embarrassment and indignation. “Did he now?” He said sharply. The soldier seemed to realise that Hutch didn’t exactly sound friendly, because he said, “Er… well no. Not exactly. He said something nicer than that.” Yeah Hutch believed that more. Sniper wasn’t really one for being overly vulgar. “Alright. And what the hell do you want with me?”
“I want to have sex with you.” The soldier didn’t make any attempt to keep his voice down, and Hutch was compelled to slap a hand over the burly man’s mouth. “Fucking hell, mate. Announce it to the whole base, will you?” The soldier’s brows furrowed in confusion, and Hutch had to elaborate, “No I’m not being serious, you pillock. Just keep your voice down, alright?” The soldier nodded, and Hutch took his hand away. Immediately, the big American whisper shouted, “I want to have sex with you.”
Hutch shook his head. Perhaps he wouldn’t have been so open with his desire to fuck everyone if he’d known this would be the outcome. Still…
“What’s your plan here then?” He asked, deciding to give the Soldier the benefit of the doubt. The American grinned, a frightening thing, and said, “Are you busy now?” Hutch gestured behind him, and said, “Yeah I actually am, mate, I’m fixing the bloody door that you’ve kicked off the hinges seven times already. You specifically.” The Soldier didn’t look the least bit sheepish about that, and said, “Alright then. This evening. 0800 hours. Meet me on the loading dock, and we’ll go see my friend.”
Hutch hesitated. “Your… friend? Who’s this friend? And why are they there if you want to fuck me?” The Soldier shrugged like it should have been obvious, and said, “I only have sex with my friend there. So he has to be there when I fuck you.” Like it was the most obvious thing on earth. Hutch had the feeling this was a terrible idea.
And yet, that evening still found him primping and preening himself, trying to make sure he was as appealing as he could be. He put on civvies this time, not bothering with the uniform seeing as it was already arranged. He slid a switchblade into the pocket of his jeans too, just in case.
Maybe he should’ve taken a look at himself in the mirror and wondered why exactly it was that he felt so comfortable to go out into the dark night and engage in deviant activities with not one, but two near perfect strangers. Just to feel something? Just to get to have a blank, quiet mind for a few precious moments? Was that a good enough reason? No, of course it wasn’t. But he was doing it anyway.
The Soldier was dressed in his blues when Hutch met him, and he silently beckoned the Handyman after him to wander into the desert. Hutch palmed the switchblade in his pocket. He was either going to have sex or get murdered and either seemed fine to him.
Please don’t think that.
Oh hush you.
As they walked through the stark, starry landscape, Hutch took a look at the Soldier and said, “Are you going to kill me? You don’t have to cover it up and walk me out here if you are, no one will care.” He was half joking, but that seemed to go over the other man’s head. The Soldier stopped, and turned to him, face too shadowed to see. When he spoke though, his voice was just soft and confused, “Why would I kill you?” Hutch shrugged. “Lots of reasons.” The Soldier stepped up to him. “I didn’t bring you out here to kill you. Don’t be afraid.”
Hutch shrugged again, “I wasn’t afraid anyway, but thanks.” Soldier stared at him for a long time then, before eventually saying, “Mick said you don’t kiss so I want you to know that in my head I am kissing you very tenderly and carefully so you know I mean you no harm.” Hutch just snorted at this, and replied, “Alright big guy. Whatever you say.”
In the end, the Soldier led him to a disused shed out in the deserts. The lights of Blu base twinkled vaguely in the distance. Hutch would honestly have been quicker walking there from his own cabin. The Soldier pushed the door open and held it for Hutch, a level of chivalry that was kind of amusing considering the apparent squalor he had deemed suitable to fuck him in.
The inside wasn’t so bad in the end though. It had been swept and cleaned. There was a little electric heater to stave off the chill of the desert night, and a small camping lantern to cast the space in a dim orange glow. Most of the floor space was taken up by a double mattress, covered in relatively clean sheets. On that mattress sat a fairly nice surprise. The Red Demoman, sipping a bottle of cider, and naked as the day he was born. “Aha,” said Hutch, “Well, that makes sense.”
The Demo chuckled, and said, “Evenin’. You came. Wasn’t sure you would, not with how bad Jane’s manners can be.” As if on cue, the Soldier came up behind Hutch, hands coming up to squeeze his chest as he began to grind immediately against his arse. “Christ,” Hutch said, hands held out at his sides. He looked over his shoulder, and said, “Down boy. Humping me like a bloody dog.” The Soldier was undeterred. On the contrary, one of his hands dropped, going for Hutch’s belt, and he automatically smacked them away. “A little patience wouldn’t go amiss there, mate. It is a virtue, you know.” The man behind him seemed to care little about the admonishment, and just pushed his hand up the front of Hutch’s t-shirt instead. “So is charity,” said the Soldier, “So go ahead and be virtuous.” The Handyman gave the Demo a look of exasperation.
The Scot huffed a laugh, and said, “Jane love, give the man some space to get his bearings.” The Soldier made a grumpy noise, but backed off, settling instead for beginning to take off his own clothes. The Demo lounged back on the sheet, cock resting against his hip, and said, “So, Hutch yeah? Heard you’re a right accommodating fella.” Hutch snorted, a little more confident now that he wasn’t being felt up. He took out a cigarette, and lit it, taking his time to answer. Eventually he said, “I’m branching out in my duties. Boring out here. Thought I’d provide some entertainment.” His voice was even and calm, but he could hear his blood whooshing in his ears. What were these men planning? Did they both want to fuck him? He’d never been with two people at once before.
The Demo stretched comfortably, arms over his head, and then stood up leisurely. He was steady on his feet, and his one eyed gaze was clear and sharp, which was reassuring. Hutch didn’t know how he felt about shagging a drunk man when he himself was sober. The Scot stepped towards Hutch, and stopped in front of him, dark eye tracking down his face.
“Little thing, ain’t ya?” He said, which Hutch found a bit offensive because he wasn’t bloody little, he was a perfectly average five foot nine, and he was actually quite well muscled, thank you very much. “I’m not little,” he said, “Not my fault all you lot are a bunch of immortal superhuman giants.” Demo laughed at this, and let himself openly rake his gaze down Hutch’s body. “Ah you’re probably right, lad. But maybe you’d let me take your shirt off to be sure?” Hutch allowed himself a smile at that, and said, “Clever sod, aren’t ya? Go on then.”
The Demo didn’t hesitate, bringing his hands up to unbutton Hutch’s shirt. As his chest was revealed, the Scot ran fingers through the dark hair there, and said, “Hm. Pretty. Lucky us.” Hutch just took a long drag from his smoke, before dropping it to the floor and grinding out with the heel of his boot. Demo pulled his shirt from the waistband of his jeans, and slid it off his shoulders. When he caught sight of his tattoo, the Scot cocked an eyebrow and asked, “Who’s N?” But Hutch just shook his head. “Not here for story time, mate,” he said, and reached to unbuckle his own belt.
He felt the Soldier come up to hover behind him again, naked now. The big man didn’t touch, so Hutch leaned towards him, pressing his back to the other man’s chest. The American gave a dark little chuckle and helped Hutch slide his jeans down his legs. In front of him, the Demo crowded up to Hutch, reaching around him to squeeze the Soldier’s thick waist. This sandwiched Hutch’s naked body between the two of them, and he didn’t find himself opposed to it.
He could feel one cock pressed between his arse cheeks, the other sliding into the crook of his hip, and decided to just ignore his own, and whatever it decided to do. He let himself lean his head back against the shoulder of the man behind him, and said, “Alright, you’ve got me. What’s your plan?”
“I am gonna fuck you in the ass til you forget your name, princess.” The Soldier growled, but Hutch ignored him, just looking at the Demo in front of him. He ran his hands up the Scot’s lean waist, and said, “And you? What are you gonna do to me?” Demo just chuckled, and pulled on Hutch, making him step out of his puddled clothes, and pulling him towards the bed.
Hutch was tugged down to straddle the other man’s lap, wearing his boots and nothing else, which was doing something for him, for some reason. The mattress dipped behind him as the Soldier followed them, and began to dot kisses across the back of Hutch’s neck and shoulders. He allowed it, having become somewhat acclimated to someone close behind him since starting his adventures with the Sniper. He let his eyes fall closed, and reached back to hold onto the other man. “So I can only assume you two intend to make this worth my while,” he said, more cocky than he actually felt.
Demo’s hands slid to the Handyman’s hips as he said, “Oh I’d say so, lad. Jane here’s been only mad to get his paws on ya since he heard what a lovely time you gave that skinny Australian.” The Soldier leered over Hutch’s shoulder, and said, “Bet I can fuck you better.” Hutch pinched his side, and said, “It’s not a bloody competition, big guy. Ah.” Hutch twitched as the Soldier bit the meat of his trapezoid, hands coming round to fondle his chest again.
“Jane!” Demo chastised, reaching to bat the eager man’s hands away. Hutch waved him away though, saying, “S’alright. I’m a big boy. I can handle it.” He shuddered more as Solider rolled his nipples firmly between blunt fingertips. “Fuckin’ hell, he’s not bloody shy, is he?” Hutch gasped, letting himself sit down fully into the Demo’s lap.
He had forgone the jockstrap that night and was trying not to regret it as his almost half hard cock rubbed against the full hardness of the Demo. It felt good, but he was worried the other two might find him lacking. The Demo didn’t make any comment though, as he gripped Hutch’s hips and ground up against him. God it felt good. Hutch had the feeling he could have gone totally rag doll limp in the arms of the two men, and they would have held him up.
At that vulnerable thought, he came back to himself nervously, eyes darting around before he said, “Is the door locked? No one knows about this place do they?” Demo gave him a confused look, clearly noting how tense he’d suddenly gone, and said, “Whoa laddie, easy. No, no one knows. You’re safe.” As if to highlight this, he leaned over the side of the bed to pat where his grenade launcher lay, on the off chance they were interrupted.
Hutch swallowed. “Right. Sorry.” He didn’t know why he was sorry. Demo just glanced at Soldier, and said, “Maybe we just need to work a little harder to turn that brain of yours off for a while, yeah?” Before Hutch could ask what that entailed, the Scot nodded to the big American. Abruptly, Hutch was lifted and manhandled onto his hands and knees by the man behind him.
“Oh!” He yelped, feeling rather like a startled cat with its back arched. He wobbled in his new position, but didn’t falter, and gave the Demoman a startled look, already automatically looking to him over the Soldier, a bit more reassured by the calm Scot. The Demo smiled, and reached up to straighten Hutch’s glasses. At the same time, two enormous hands gripped the Handyman’s arse cheeks, squeezing roughly, before spreading them. Hutch shivered. He’d never been touched so roughly before, and it wasn’t bad, but it was intense.
“You just relax sweetheart. I’m gonna make you see Stars and Stripes.” The Soldier said. “Stars. Just stars,” the Demo clarified, but it didn’t really matter, because the American shuffled down behind Hutch then, and abruptly shoved his tongue as far up the Handyman’s arse as it could go.
Hutch did actually moan at that, caught off guard, and felt all the hairs on his back stand up in sequence, from his lower back to the nape of his neck. He hadn’t quite expected to be breached so abruptly, and the thick, wet muscle curling against his insides had him quickly trembling all over. “Oh my god.” He said hoarsely, glasses sliding down his nose as his head dropped forward.
The big American behind him rocked his face forward into him, and Hutch had to readjust his hands on the sheets to stop himself face planting into the Demo’s chest. He looked back over his shoulder to see those piercing, steely blue eyes staring him down, as the Soldier fucked his tongue into him over and over. “Christ,” panted Hutch, aware that his cock was already drooling copious amounts of precum onto the greying sheets. He never used to get his wet, but he didn’t mind it that much. At least it was proof to whoever was shagging him that he was having a good time, even if his cock wouldn’t stay hard long enough to be of any use.
Hutch only realised he was lost in thought again when a hand was cupped under his chin, tilting his face up. He did his best to focus on the Demo, who said, “You’re nae great at staying in the moment, are ya?” Hutch tried to speak, choked a little on his spit, and then managed to mumble, “Sorry, it’s a little hard to concentrate on talking when your fella here is trying to eat his way up into my small intestine.” Demo gave a laugh at this, and tilted Hutch’s head to one side, leaning in to kiss gently at his neck. It was a stark contrast to the wet, messy mouthing his other end was receiving, and it was enough to short circuit his brain a little, shutting down much complex thought from barrelling through unwanted.
Soldier obviously felt Hutch relax a little, because he took the opportunity to slip one thick, surreptitiously lubed finger inside of him, while still working him with his mouth. Hutch whined, and arched at the intrusion, hands leaving the bed to grip Demo’s broad shoulders. “Jesus. Hah. I’ve taken cocks smaller than your bloody fingers mate, go easy.” Soldier said nothing, but he did slow his actions a little. Hutch fully slung his arms around the Demo’s shoulders then, making little embarrassing noises into the crook of his neck. His glasses were completely crooked but he couldn’t have cared less.
He sounded almost pained when the Soldier curled the tip of that finger against his prostate. He could feel how his muscles clenched and pulsed around the other man. The Demo brought up soothing hands to run down Hutch’s sides, and whispered, “Taking it like a champ, laddie.” Hutch tried to surreptitiously wipe spit off his chin, and pulled back to nod at the Demo’s eager prick. “Want me to ah-hah!” He was rudely interrupted by a second finger entering him, and the Demo laughed, and patted his back. “No need, love, I think you’re a little preoccupied there. Don’t you worry, I’ll get mine.”
“Yes, civilian. Ration your strength, we are just getting started,” the Soldier rumbled, pulling back. “God what the fuck, he’s fucking nuts,” Hutch mumbled, a slight slur to his voice already. He didn’t get an answer, but he did get a third finger in the arse, pumping steadily against that already tender spot inside him. His toes curled, and he was aware of another spurt of precum leaving him to spatter the Demo’s thigh. “Ooh he’s liking that Janey.” The Scot said, “Love a man that understands the joy of having something rammed just right up the arse.” Ok maybe they were both nuts. Which probably meant Hutch was too, he was shagging them after all.
Giving in a little, Hutch began to rock back into the fingers inside him, practically sitting down into the Soldier’s hand. If the American had been a smaller man, Hutch might have been worried about hurting his wrist or fingers. As it was, the Soldier just gave a gleeful chuckle, and somehow managed to slide his little finger in too. “Oh my god!” Hutch gasped, back arching. It was almost too much, and he had a brief moment of fear that the other man might try put his whole, enormous hand inside him. He’d never done that before, and had the distinct inkling he wouldn’t be able to take it. He swallowed, and panted, “do you fellas always fuck like rutting animals, or is this special treatment just for me.” In front of him, the Demo had slicked his palm with the precum Hutch was dripping on his leg, and was using it to wank himself off. “Oh we’re just getting started, love.”
Hutch must have looked a little worried at that, because the Scot reached out his free hand to pet his flank, and said, “We’ll take care of you, laddie, don’t you worry. You’ll sleep like a log tonight.” The Soldier crooked his fingers inside Hutch, making him whine and arch, hole spasming to try and close around the digits inside him. Inside him, nerves and anticipation sparked and battled. What were these two going to do with him?
“I- I’m not in the respawn system.” Hutch managed to choke out, “So don’t… don’t be too ungentle.” This made the Soldier huff over his shoulder, sounding a little taken aback, and for a moment, the aggressive fingers in him slowed. “Told you I’m not gonna hurt ya, sweetheart.” The voice was low, practically a rumbled whisper. A thick arm came up, wrapping around Hutch, and putting him in a partial headlock. Slowly, the fingers were withdrawn, and Hutch heard the distinct sound of what he could only assume was a rather large cock being slicked with lube.
Hutch was pulled up onto his knees by the grip around his neck, and both his hands automatically came up to hang onto the Soldier’s muscled forearm. The grip on him was firm, but not suffocating. The most uncomfortable part of it was being pulled upright, his not quite hard cock now on full display for the Demo in front of him. Hutch could feel himself breathing quickly as the head of the Soldier’s cock pressed against him. For the first time in a while, he wasn’t thinking about all his scary memories, because he was a little too busy worrying about whether he was going to be able to walk tomorrow or not.
The Soldier’s cock didn’t turn out to be obscenely large, but the angle he pressed in at was intense. Seemingly deliberately, the American pushed himself in against Hutch’s front wall, not so much brushing his prostate, as grinding against it like he was aggressively stubbing out a cigarette.
“Whoa- whoa that’s ah that’s a lot, mate.” Hutch warbled, head spinning a little. He was arched against the other man, as the Soldier pressed into him. He could feel it in his belly, his bladder, zinging through his twitching cock. “ Hhhm, Christ, give me a second.” The Soldier paused, holding still so Hutch could catch his breath. The intensity didn’t abate. He took a few breaths, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed.
What was he fighting against? Letting go? Focussing on the moment? When he thought about it, he was as safe here as he possibly could be, with two dangerous men on side to take care of him. He was fairly sure he believed now that they weren’t going to hurt him, and if that were the case, then surely it meant they intended to look after him. He knew his body was tense in the Soldier’s arms, felt the big man shifting on his knees to keep him held close and secure. Hutch opened his eyes and looked at where the Demo sat in front of him, watching him with that single, intense eye, for any signs of distress. Hutch blinked owlishly down at the Scot. How did he relinquish control? He simply did not know how. The Demo sat up a little, and asked, “Do you want Jane to pull out?”
“No!” The word was out of Hutch’s mouth before the question was even fully asked, which was maybe a little embarrassing. The Demo chuckled softly, and sat forward to trail one dark skinned hand up and down Hutch’s belly. “You want him to fuck you?” The warm palm came down to cup between his legs, and the Demo cocked a questioning eyebrow at him. Hutch felt himself sweat cold with humiliation as he felt the need to explain himself. “It doesn’t… I don’t always… respond right.” The Soldier nuzzled into the back of his neck. An attempt at being comforting? Did they already know this? Had Mick told them? Meanwhile, the Demo only asked, calm and unbothered, “Does this still feel good?” He meant the way he was fondling Hutch, warm hand stroking his cock. Hutch nodded, and the Scot smiled. “Well then. No problem. Now. Do you want Jane to fuck you, lad?” A pause. Hutch nodded again, as best he could in the headlock.
He noted the brief nod the Demo gave to the Soldier, and tried to let his body relax. Behind him, the big man pulled back slowly, before driving himself just as deep inside Hutch again. An embarrassing noise left him, and then another and another, as the big American began to pound into him, not very fast, but deep, and hard, leaving him no room to wiggle away. The arm not around his neck wrapped around his middle, and the Soldier pressed his palm hard below Hutch’s navel, like he wanted to feel his own cock battering the Handyman’s insides through his skin.
Effectively pinned, Hutch could only go lax in the bigger man’s arms as the American pistoned into him unrelentingly. He was aware that his cock was dribbling a near constant trickle of clear, sticky fluid down the Demo’s wrist now, as the Scot played with him with almost chaste curiosity. Hutch’s skin prickled hot and electric with a strange mix of thrill and humiliation, grateful and ashamed all at once.
Look at you love, doing so well.
Not fucking now, Nicky.
Hutch squeezed his eyes closed, trying to avoid the possibility of seeing white blond hair, but the face danced behind his eyelids anyway, and all of a sudden he couldn’t breathe.
With a gasp, Hutch tapped urgently on the Soldier’s arm, and the big man released him immediately. Hutch fell forward, and the Demo caught him, letting Hutch brace his hands on his shoulders, head dipped low. Hutch sensed a wordless communication pass between the other two men, and then felt the Soldier go to pull out of him. “Don’t,” he rasped, “I’m alright. I want- I want to keep going.” Uncertain hands petted over his hips and his sweaty back, the Soldier undecided. Again, the Demo straightened Hutch’s glasses, and asked, “Are you sure, lad?” But Hutch just nodded, and pushed off him, taking control to put himself on his hands and knees. The Soldier took no issue with this, just taking the meat of Hutch’s hips in his hands and pulling him back fully on his cock.
“ Hah!” Hutch’s voice came out high, but before the Demo could chastise the Soldier, he said, “Yeah. Like that, big man. Hard, alright?” Another soft chuckle from the American, followed by a “sir, yes sir.” Also amused, the Demo sat back on the bed, still seemingly content to just watch. Behind Hutch, the Soldier shifted from his knees to a crouch, and set about plowing into Hutch so hard he was pretty sure he could feel his brain being rattled against the inside of his skull. His glasses were sliding down the bridge of his nose, so he pulled them off and cast them aside, vaguely aware of the Demo catching them before they skittered across the floor. Arms trembling, head hanging low, Hutch gave in to the feelings, blocking out the haunting thoughts in favour of focussing on the heavy body holding him still and filling him up over and over.
He could feel the Soldier’s hips smacking his arse hard enough to bruise. Feel his insides clutching and spasming on nothing with every sharp pull out. He found himself making little nn nn nn noises every time the big man drove into him, unable to keep quiet under the power the Soldier was fucking him with.
Hutch’s elbows were quaking a little, and eventually he simply let them give out, pitching down to lie his face on one of the Demo’s thighs. He went to reach for the man’s cock, but the Scot batted his hand away, and began to stroke his now thoroughly disheveled hair, again a soft contrast to the hard ride he was taking from behind.
“Hm hm,” the Demo gave a soft little chuckle. “You really are an odd sort of fella, aren’t you?” He smoothed Hutch’s hair back off his face. “What answer do you think you’re gonna find on the business end of a cock, eh?” Hutch batted lightly at the other man’s leg. He wasn’t here to talk. The Demo seemed to catch his meaning, because he smirked, and said, “Give him here, Jane. I want a turn.”
With a low murmur of assent, the Soldier pulled out of Hutch. Gently, he was maneuvered onto the Demo’s lap, turned so his back was pressed to the Scot’s chest. He was aware of lube and the American’s precum dripping out of him, and squirmed a little. He wasn’t left empty and leaking long though, the Demo easily hoisting him up around the waist to lower him onto his cock.
The Scot let out a low groan, and said appreciatively, “Christ, still a snug fit even after Janey’s had a go at ya. Where you been all this time? I’ve a notion you’re gonna end up mighty popular round here, lad.” Hutch let himself lean back against the other man, feeling his cock shift inside him with every deep, steadying breath he took, and gave a shaky laugh. “That’s the goal, anyway.” He said, and then hissed as the Demo rolled his hips into his sensitive body.
Hutch tried closing his knees, but the Demo was having none of it, grabbing his thighs to keep his legs open. After a couple of slow thrusts, the Scot properly hooked his hands under the back’s of Hutch’s knees, hoisting his booted feet up off the mattress and leaving him exposed, and folded in half against the Demo’s chest.
“Bloody hell,” Hutch gasped, “You fellas certainly know how to handle a chap, eh?” The Demo just snickered, nosing into Hutch’s hair as his thrusts became steady and firm. In front of him the Soldier moved between his open legs, pale eyes sharp in the low light. “Gonna lick you now,” he said, in that low gravelly rumble of a voice. Before Hutch could have anything to say about that, the American dropped to his belly between his legs, and began to lick wetly at where the Demo’s cock was moving in and out of him.
Hutch let out a string of strangled curse words as the tip of a pointed tongue ran over the stretched rim of his hole. He wriggled again in the tight hold keeping him still. “ Jesus! You fellas are filthy, aren’t you? Oh, ough fuck. ”
Hutch’s body spasmed and twitched as the Soldier pulled back to slide his index finger inside the Handyman, along with the cock already in there. Hutch jerked, neck and chest blooming red, as the thick finger curled against his prostate alongside the steady slick slide of the Demo’s cock. His head dropped back against the Scot’s shoulder, and the man behind him said, “Easy Jane, hang on. You alright with this, Hutch?”
Was he alright with it? Bloody hell, he hadn’t been this successfully distracted in months. He didn’t even care that he wasn’t hard and wouldn’t come anymore, far too caught up in the sensation of being moved and maneuvered like a toy for the men’s satisfaction. “Please,” he panted, “Please don’t stop.”
He groaned as a second finger pushed inside him. The Demo wasn’t moving now, and the intense look on the Soldier’s face told of a man dead set on a mission. Hutch found himself making struggling little breathy sounds as the two fingers parted inside him, stretching him further. It didn’t hurt, the Soldier was going slow, but it was overwhelmingly intense. One of the Demo’s hands left his leg, and reached down to tug on Hutch’s cock, causing precum to puddle in his navel and mat the hair of his belly. He was so grateful for the distraction he wasn’t even think about whether he was hard or not.
The air in the shed was humid and focussed, no one speaking or making any noise other than Hutch’s embarrassingly soft mewls. After several minutes of careful work, the Soldier took his fingers back. Hutch was aware of the slick sound of lube being smeared, but without his glasses, everything was a little blurry and fuzzy. Though he thought everything might be blurry and fuzzy regardless right then. The Demo rocked inside him a little, and Hutch huffed, and turned to press his forehead to the Scot’s cheek. He had a general idea of what he thought was coming next, and he was trying to let his body relax in anticipation of it. “Do it slow.” He heard himself say softly, as if from a distance.
The Demo’s arms wrapped around Hutch’s middle, and the Scot hummed an affirmative to him. The Soldier shifted closer, coalescing from a blurry shape into something a little more definite. “You’re the boss,” he said, and Hutch supposed he was, somehow. He didn’t think any of this would happen without his say so. He didn’t answer, held gentle in the Demo’s arms. The Soldier shuffled in, kneeling between the legs of the two other men. There was movement, and concentration, and then Hutch felt something else pressing against him, insistent, wanting in.
At first, he thought it couldn’t possibly work, there was no way the Soldier would possibly fit. The pressure was intense, and Hutch tried to focus on a drop of sweat that was tracking down his clavicle and into the hollow of his throat instead. He was breathing hard through his nose, head back, hands twitching uselessly in the rumpled sheets.
His body gave in suddenly, allowing the Soldier to slip inside him alongside the other man already there. Hutch let out a thin, high, cry, chest bucking, belly spasming. The Demo hushed him, gentling his thighs and belly with soft palms as the Soldier pressed forward, slotting himself into the tight space with a grunt.
One of Hutch’s hands came up to the American’s shoulder, and he inadvertently dug deep red crescents into his skin with his nails. “Oh god. Oh god. Slow. Please go slow.” The other men obeyed, both staying still as Hutch adjusted, the trio panting with effort.
He’d never been this full, truly, never expected to be. His blurry vision was a little spotty, and every time he breathed, he could feel the two cocks shifting minutely inside him, pressing on everything that usually took a little more effort to press against. It took Hutch almost a minute to realise the intensity wasn’t going to let up, and he let out an overwhelmed whimper. He felt more than heard the Demo open his mouth to no doubt ask if he was ok, and groaned, “Fuck me. Just fuck me. I can take it. I want to take it.” Fighting words perhaps, but he found himself craving the thoughtless respite that he believed would come with having to focus solely on letting his body take what the two men seemed intent on giving him.
When they did begin to move inside him, it was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He knew, deep down, he was afraid of sex feeling like it had before, reminding him of things too terrible and great to think about. This was nothing like sex he’d had before. He had never been held like this, filled like this, used like this. As the Soldier pressed close to him, and he was once again pinned between the two men, he couldn’t help but feel like a tool for their pleasure, and found that right then, he was ok with that.
Awareness slipped from Hutch a little, as he started to go floaty and limp. The Demo kept checking in, making sure he was alright, and it took all he had to vocalise that they should keep going. He was aware of the pace changing, the grunts of effort from the other two men. He was aware of the Soldier leaning past him to kiss the Demo on the mouth, aware that regardless of anything else, these two men were lovers, and he was just along for the ride. At any other time that might have filled him with loneliness, but right then there wasn’t room for anything else inside him.
Drifting from the moment, Hutch imagined cool, slim hands cupping his face, a gentle, soothing touch.
You’re running from me.
Yes. I'm sorry.
It’s alright. Just don’t hurt yourself, Vic.
He closed his eyes.
Hutch was only distantly aware of the other men finishing inside him, and before he knew it, he was being lowered to the sheets, petted over with careful hands. He let himself lie there for a while, long enough to realise no one was inside him anymore. His eyes fluttered open when his glasses were slid back onto his face, and he blinked up at the Demo, who wore an expression of soft concern.
“Alright there laddie? Think we ran you a bit too hard, perhaps.” Hutch swallowed, mouth dry, and managed to respond, “Nah. Needed that.” The Demo’s eyebrows twitched at that, and he smoothed back Hutch’s black hair. “Hmm.” He said, not convinced, “Be that as it may. Make sure you need it for the right reasons, aye?” Hutch looked away, sheepish, and the Scot decided to drop it. “Jane’s gone to fetch a little assistance. Why don’t you have a wee rest til he’s back?”
Assistance? What did that mean? Hutch tried to ask, but before he’d even opened his mouth, he slipped into the embrace of sleep, and the cool hands of the dead lover that awaited him there.