The London Sonnets

Spoilers: Anything through Buffy S4 is fair game.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Property of Joss and ME. Just playing.
Summary: What happens when Ethan doesn’t slip out before sunrise.
A/N: Follows As An Unperfect Actor On The Stage. The title is taken from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 77. This chapter goes out to Ethan who, well, to not give too much away, really deserves a hug. And always to Savvy who keeps me going when the characters get stubborn (or the writer gets a bit lazy). For previous installments of the Menageaverse, please visit our website at www.responsibleadults.sadbhyl.riverworld.net.


Ethan awoke instantly, the aftershocks tingling electrically over his skin. Something had disrupted the wards he’d set up at the Summers’ household. Something powerful. Extremely powerful.

He looked down at Joyce, sleeping peacefully. Of course she was. woulwouldn’t have felt it. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe—he stopped the thoughts cold. Ethan had never been one to lie to himself. Others, yes, but never himself. He knew what he knew and he was what he was. Something had happened, of that much he was certain. Now, what exactly that something was was another matter.

And the power! It wasn’t just the disruption of the wards, but the spell or whatever it was that had broken thr the them. Closing his eyes, Ethan focused in. Chaos. Oh, so much chaos. But hidden, very well. Carefully concealed behind order.

Joyce stirred pulling him back. He looked at her again, still seeming asleep. Ash blond hair spread across the pillow, hiding her face as she lay on her stomach, her left arm holding him close. One tan shoulder exposed, enticing him, begging attentionhat hat was the call of chaos next to the draw of the gorgeous woman beside him?

Moving carefully, he placed a delicate kiss on the bare skin.

“Mm,” Joyce purred, blinking her eyes open to smile at him. “Good morning.”

He smiled in return. Gods, she was beautiful.

“You’re still here,” Rupert rumbled behind him, surprise evident in the statement.

“Disappointed?” Ethan asked lightly.

“No, not disappointed,” the man replied, wrapping close against Ethan’s back.

Well, this was interesting. Joyce usually wound up in the middle by default. Maybe they had done it to keep him from slipping out on them. Or maybe . . .

Rupert bit lightly at the juncture between Ethan’s neck and shoulder, causing him to arch back with a groan. He felt Rupert’s tongue trace carefully over his marks from the other day, soothing, before reaching an unmarked patch and biting again.

And Joyce’s hand was no longer resting quietly on his waist. It had snuck down to tease along his growing erection. He shuddered in response to the soft contact of her gentle fingers against the sensitized flesh.

“Joyce,” he breathed, reveling in the heat of her small hand tight around him.

She was on her side now, facing him as she calmly stroked, eyes dancing. “Yes, Ethan?” the question came out in a low purr.

He wanted to reach for her, pull her tight against him, bury himself deep inside—but he found himself restrained. Rupert held Ethan’s right where it was, resting under his head. Ethan’s left which had lain unsuspectingly against his side, was now trapped there, Rupert’s fingers interwoven and holding him in e. e. Slowly, Rupert drew Ethan back until he lay almost but not quite on his back aga Rup Rupert.

Taking this as a cue of some sort, Joyce removed her hand and leaned in to kiss him, deep and slow. Pulling back, she licked her lips. “It seems we have you at our mercy.”

“You’re just figuring that out?” he asked lightly, realizing too late how revealing that one little statement was. “What do you plan on doing to me?”

“And spoil the surprise?” Ripper’s blunt teeth nipped at his earlobe. “You like surprises don’t you, Ethan?”

Wasn’t that chaos in action? So why wasresiresisting? “Depends,” he replied.

“Oh, Ethan,” Joyce shook her head and kissed him again, then began to descend along his throat and to his chest, careful that lips and tongue were the only parts of her that touched him. By the time she began to lave one of his nipples into an aching pebble and bit down hard enough to send a mixture of pleasure and pain shooting through his body, Ethan’s cock was straining for contact of any kind. But neither Joyce nor Rupert seemed inclined to do anything about it. Rupert’s own erection pressing against his back, tight enough that Ethan could feel the blood pumping, didn’t help matters any. And Joyce moved as if had had all the time in the world, seeming to savor every square inch between his chin and navel. It was torture, however sweet the guise.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he managed to keep his voice strong.

“There are worse ways to die,” Rupert rocked his hips once.

Ethan bit back the moan that threatened to escape. A smart man would give himself over, admit defeat. But while Ethan could play the submissive without a second thought, he always retained a modicum of control. Even bound to the bed, bleeding, desperate for Ripper’s touch, he still had had some control. Sandwiched between his two lovers, one now agonizingly close to where he desired the most attention, he felt that control sliding out of his grasp.

He wasn’t sure he liked the feeling. No, he definitely didn’t like it. If he—Ethan began to struggle. He needed to get out, now before things went too far.

Rupert held firm, right leg wrapping over Ethan’s, locking him practically immobile. “Shh,” he said soothingly, contracted muscles straining to keep Ethan where he was.

Joyce had stopped and pulled back, her right palm rested flat against his chest, over where his heart had started to race in panic.

“Ethan,” she said, the command even and without any hint of playfulness. “Ethan, look at me.”

Eyes which had been darting wildly, searching for escape, honed in on Joyce's, so open and accepting, stilling his in their erratic jey. ey.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Et” H” Her eyes saw through him too well. She wasn’t supposed to be able to do that.

“Nothing?” he said with quiet incrity.ity.

“You’re safe with us,” Rupert replied, fingers flexing and reaffirming their intimate weave with Ethan’s. “Let go, Ethan.”

“Too much,” Ethan screwed his eyes shut, seeking refuge deep de. de. But it only served to bring the roiling internal struggled into sharper focus. What in the hell was wrong with him?

“Ethan,” Joyce’s voice was sharp, snapping him back to attention.

“I can’t,” was the weak plea that escaped. “Let me go.”

His voice sounded so small and pathetic. He was begging them. But he couldn’t be there anymore. Not now when he felt so exposed.

Right hand still on his chest, Joyce’s left came up to thread through his hair, brushing lightly through it, soothing. Ethan felt himself relax slightly.

“Shh,” Rupert and Joyce’s voices mingled in a quieting chorus.

What was wrong with him? Fear wasn’t something he was accustomed to. It wasn’t part of who he was. He dealt in fear at times but he did not fear. Ethan had never felt so lost in all of his life.

Joyce kissed him then with such overwhelming tenderness he could think of nothing else.

“We’ll get through this,” she said, gently caressing the side of his face as she pulled away, so much compassion in her eyes. “Let me take car you you.” And without further hesitation she picked up where she had left off in her slow descent.

Rupert’s death grip relaxed slightly and he began to nibble along Ets nes neck. No violence or possession behind the gesture, just a comforting familiarity.

“I would have cocked this up permanently if you weren’t around,” Rupert murmured.

Any response Ethan was capable of making was cut off by the sharp off off pleasure elicited by Joyce’s hot, firm tongue tracing a wet trail from base to tip of his penis. She toyed briefly with the head, first with tongue, then teeth, then lips, before she took him all the way in. Her tongue dance exotically as she held him, teasing along veins, moving up and down, wrapping around . . . her skills had only improved with time, and they were exceptional to begin with.

Hypnotized by the bobbing curls, barely registered Rupert’s babble. “Her mouth is so tight, burning, slick pliable resistance . . . so similar ours, so different. Waiting and ready. Always so ready . . .” he trailed off. “For you and me alone. No other. Just us. And we’re her slaves, completely.”

There was noyingying that. If she were to ask, there was very little Ethan wouldn’t do for Joyce. And when it came down to it, as things stood at the present, the same was true with regards to Rupert. Even after their hey day, the twenty-odd years since, if Ripper had asked, Ethan wouldn’t have said no. Certainly he had his own agenda, no morals, but for the right person, the right two persons, Ethan could be swayed from his selfish ways.

He felt the familiar tightening take hold as various pressures built toward climax.

“Come for us, Ethan, come for Joyce and me,” the husky request from his male lover drove him near the e

And when Joyce’s fingers snuck behind his balls and pressed just so, Ethan came, crying her name hoarsely into the otherwise silent room.

Rupert had released him, but still lay by Ethan’s right side. Joyce’s head rested against his chest. And Ethan stared at the canopy, trying to order his thoughts, a bit ironic for one who worshiped chaos as he did.

When had it all changed? From casual fucking to well, anything but—or had it never been casual to begin with? But that was really a moot point, wasn’t it? The fact remained that he was in deep, so irrevocably deep that the time to escape had long since passed.

“I thought that was my job,” Rupert’s smooth baritone broke into his thoughts.

Ethan shifted so he could look at Rupert, but was careful not to disturb Joyce. “Oh, whathat?hat?”

Rupert grinned, “Thinking too much.”

Ethan snorted.

“You want to be careful with that, don’t want to give us the wrong impression, do you?” Rupert asked slyly.

“That I’ve finally grown serious and introspective after all of these years?”

His friend tried to keep a straight face, but was soon laughing. “I’m sorry, never mind. Forget I ever said anything.”

Ethan was surprised to find that Rupert’s disbelief hurt. Not that he wanted to be seen as such, but . . . Lightly, he said, “One of us has to balance out the other’s brooding. Guess it just falls on my shoulders.”

Rupert frowned. “Is everything alright?”

“With me? Of course. Why wouldn’t it be? Blissed out between my lovers.”

“Earlier you—”

“It was nothing, Ripper,” Ethan said firmly, the tone saying in no uncertain terms to drop the subject.

The other man fixed him with an unblinking gaze. “Hm.”

Ethan was about to reply but Joyce chose that moment to wap.
p.

“Women,” she mumbled.

He and Rupert exchanged a quizzical look.

She blinked at them with sleep-clouded , “Y, “Yes, you two. Like old women. I drift off for all of five minutes and the two of you start bickering again like a couple of middle mat matrons.”

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Rupert said low in his ear.

“Hey, now!” Joyce leaned up over Ethan to glare at Rupert. She had shifted just high enough so one of her breasts dangled tantalizingly close to Ethan’s waiting mouth. This wasn’t a time for fighting, was it? His tongue darted out, tasting the soft flesh and Joyce’s mild rage faded into a heady moan. Encouraged, Ethan moved his head and latched on to the nipple firmly.

Joyce arched and braced herself against Rupert, allowing Ethan easy access. She shivered when he bit down. All too soon, though, she pulled away, sitting back to watch him through narrowed eyes.

“I don’t think so,” she shook her head. “This isn’t about me.”

“Or me,” Rupert growled beside him, nibbling lightly at Ethan’s ear as his hand coasted slowly lower.

What in the bloody hell were they playing at?

“You are a part of this you know,” Rupert said, his tone serious and seductive. “Not an outsider. Not a third wheel. Ethan, you are no less worthy or deserving of attention than either Joyce or I.”

Joyce had lain back down, her hand drifting with Rupert’s in a casual dance, whispering over Ethan’s skin. Ethan felt himself relaxing into the caresses, pushing back the earlier panic that had started to rise again. While he liked being the center of attention, always had for that matter, with Joyce and Rupert he rarely if ever was. It didn’t seem right to him. He laughed at that. When had he started being concerned about what was right?

“You find our attentions amusing, do you?” Rupert quirked an enquiring brow.

“Among other things,” Ethan smirked as Rupert’s head dipped to nip lightly at his lips. His mouth opened gradually to Rupert’s talented ministrations. The man always did know how to kiss. More than anything else Rupert did to him, it could literally bring Ethan to his knees. Where beating and groping failed, Rupert’s mouth could always take the day. Not that Ethan would ever admi out out loud. If that simple little secret were known . . . after all, he had an image to maintain, didn’t he?

As if reading his thoughts, “That always has been your undoing,” Rupert broke off with a smirk.

Joyce cut off Ethan’s remark by picking up where Rupert had left off, putting all of her skill to good use. No matter how gentle Rupert was, his kisses could never be as soft as Joyce’s. Maybe it was something to do with the genders.

In the meantime, both Rupert and Joyce were alternating with firm, drawn out strokes along his shaft, a pleasurable sensation geared more toward relaxation than heightening his arousal.

Man of action that he was and had always been, Ethan didn’t think he would mind remaining in that bed for the rest of his days. Chaos and the world be damned. But being a man of action, he could only be content with such lavish and languid attention for so long. He needed more.

Tangling his fingers through their hair, Ethan pulled his lovers close. Voice husky, he repeated the same plea and command Joyce so often used with them, “I need you both. Now.”

“Always,” Joyce said, pulling him onto herself.

All curves and so soft, her flesh giving welcomingly to his own. And when he slid inside, her silky warmth surrounding him, Ethan was again thankful for the privilege she had granted him to feel her bare and not through some man-made barrier.

“So good,” he breathed. Joyce smiled knowingly.

Soon Rupert was seeking entry, stretching Ethan with all the care he had ever shown to Joyce. And then Rupert was pressing against his back, lean, hard muscles masked by the years but still there deep down.

In the middle, Ethan was allowed the rare opportunity of experiencing the best of both worlds simultaneously—coarse and smooth, soft and hard. Opposite sensations and yet so similar.

Ethan gave no more thought about how lost he was as they began to move together, the three of them. He had never felt more at home.