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A few weeks later, Martin goes back out in the boat to find the dolphins, and tells them that they have to talk. They take him into their cave again...
By the time he'd carried the picnic things to the beach, set them down, and turned back to look, there were two men walking towards him and no dolphins in the water.
He held out a towel each to them as they approached him. "I still owe you payment."
Patrick took his towel and started rubbing himself dry, but George kept on looking at Martin. "I thought you'd decided that you were dreaming."
"I knew it couldn't be real. Things like that don't happen outside stories." He looked at Patrick, a handsome, well-built man, his shoulders outlined against the light from the cave entrance, the last few drops of water on his skin sparkling in that light. Then back at George, with his lovely face and a well-shaped body that owed nothing to a gym. "But I couldn't take the risk that I was wrong. I had to be certain, or I'd have always regretted it."
The bodies were good, but they weren't enough. Martin rarely had trouble pulling for a one-night stand when he chose to. But he rarely chose to, because a one-night stand wasn't what he wanted. "You don't just want a one-off, do you?" He said it with certainty, sure that they didn't. We'll wait for you, George had said.
George shook his head. "We'll take it if that's what's on offer." He reached out and stroked Martin's cheek with one finger. "But if you're offering more ..."
"What you said ..." Patrick moved to stand behind him. "... we were what you wanted. You're what we want." Arms around him now, an erect cock pressing against his backside. "We want someone who does what he's told because that's what he likes, not because we have to make him."
His gut clenched as for a moment he thought he'd made a mistake. Then he understood what Patrick was saying; they wanted a partner, not a plaything. An equal partner in a power exchange that pleased both sides.
"We can try, at least, can't we?" George asked, moving forward to press up against him.
Hot body front and back. Naked flesh against his clothes, so that he wanted nothing more than to rip them out of the way. But there was one thing he needed to get clear before all three of them were too aroused to think. "I hope you two know about safe sex."
George backed off slightly. "We won't hurt you. Not unless you want us to."
"That's not what I meant." What past did these two have, that they understood playing safely in the context of BDSM, but not simple medical precautions? "AIDS. And other nasty things."
George looked blank for a few seconds, then said, "Oh. Those things."
"Yes. Those things." Martin reached up and quickly kissed George. "Though I'm glad you think about the other sense as well."
"Condoms," George said, pulling a face. "Yuk."
"Do we have to?" Patrick asked. It sounded like a serious question and not a complaint.
"We'd be very silly not to. I've brought some with me."
Patrick nuzzled at his neck, and said, "All right. You know best about that sort of thing."
It surprised him that they deferred to him so readily. Surprised him, but pleased him. Doms who understood the difference between fantasy and practical matters were exactly what he wanted.
"Anything else?" George asked.
Safe word? No, George had implied that they'd ask before going far enough to need one. "Just take it easy. It's been a couple of months since I had sex with anyone but myself." Since before he'd met these two, in fact.
George smiled at that. "Miss us?"
"I've spent the last few weeks thinking I dreamt it and wishing I hadn't."
"Good." George stepped forward again, pressing up against him, mouth pressing down on his. Confident, but not aggressive the way Barry had been.
He pushed Barry out of his mind and welcomed George into his mouth. God, but it was good to have a man against him again. Two men, George in front, Patrick behind. He was surrounded, with a hard cock thrusting gently against his backside and another against his own cock, and two pairs of arms around him. And George at least liked foreplay; that was obvious from the way he just went on kissing Martin.
Someone's hand was on his nipple, rubbing at it through his shirt. Had to be Patrick's hand. Another hand was exploring the curve of his arse. George, probably. But George never stopped exploring his mouth, and neither of them seemed in any hurry to get his clothes off. They took their time, exploring how he responded to a stroke here, a firm grip there. Each touch left a trail of fire along his skin. Some of it was just from having gone too long without. Some of it was the thrill of having two men at once, two pairs of hands to touch him everywhere. And some of it was the shock of finding that his fantasies of the last few weeks were all true. He'd dreamed of this, in the midnight hours when he'd woken alone with his cock in his hand, and wondered if he was going crazy.
"Pity he's not wearing any of those really nice fabrics," he heard Patrick say. "Though I like his trousers. Just the right amount of roughness." Patrick gave a good hard thrust along the denim covering his arse.
George let go of his mouth long enough to say, "Bring us some nice clothes to fuck next time." Then George kissed him again, but this time brought one hand down to press hard against his cock through his jeans.
Martin could almost have come from that alone, it had been so long since he'd felt anyone's hand but his own. But as he thrust against George's hand, George pulled back a little.
"Naughty," Patrick murmured into his ear. "Wait until we tell you that you may."
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