Title: Trinity
Author: pre_raphaelite1
Characters: Charlie/Bill/Fleur
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest, Threesomes, mild D/s, Chastity Device, Female Ejaculation, and an extant genital piercing
Themes/kinks chosen: Corsets, Bisexuality, Penetration Toys, Yoni Worship (of a sort)
Word Count: 3,000
Summary:“Do you not want it? We do not need to, if you do not wish it.” Fleur speaks dismissively, but she knows- they all know- Bill's not going to turn this down. Charlie's still smirking. The bastard.
Author's notes: Love to sethkyne_blue, quimby, and clandestinelli for putting up with me and my babbling excitement whilst I was writing this like a crazy woman.

Can I just say, Best combination of themes ever. :D


Trinity
“You're fucking kidding me, right?”

Fleur just looks at him, slowly raising one eyebrow in answer.

So Bill looks to Charlie. Who smirks at him. Fucking smirks at him. He has the urge to punch the smirk into the bedroom room wall but he restrains himself. Not that Fleur hadn't already done that for him.

He should have been suspicious when she woke him with a hand on his balls, caressing them softly as she licked the head of his cock, then making him come with brain-numbing speed. He might have dozed off again- or maybe it was the after-effects of the rapid orgasm, but when he was coherent again, he heard the telltale click of a small lock. And he belatedly felt the cage around his softened cock, the faint restriction behind his balls.

A restriction that was no longer faint as his cock begins to shift and harden while he stares helplessly between his brother and his wife.

“Do you not want it? We do not need to, if you do not wish it.” Fleur speaks dismissively, but she knows- they all know- Bill's not going to turn this down.

Charlie's still smirking. The bastard.

“No. God- Fleur. It's not that. Shit- you know that. He knows that. The Queen probably knows that,” he adds wryly.

“Well then? Why do you still stand?” Fleur crosses her arms, chin lifting up.

Bill's eyebrows shot up. “What am I supposed to be doing?”

She rolls her eyes and points at the floor in front of them. “On your knees. And show your brother how you thank me for such a thing.”

He can feel his remaining ear turning pink, but his cock is beginning to strain against its cage. To do this- to do what she asks, no, tells him to do- in front of Charlie.... It makes him ache even more than it embarrasses him. He shoots Charlie a warning look then slides slowly to his knees. Bending over, he brushes a soft kiss over the toe of her tan suede boot.

“Merci, ma coeur,” he murmurs.

“Mmm yes. Now you may take your clothes off.”

Despite her choice of words, this is not permission as much as instruction so he rocks back to his his heels to pull his jumper off, tossing it to the side. He feels the tattooed lions on his back shift as though trying to look over his shoulder to see Charlie and Fleur. Ignoring them, he stands up and unbuttons his jeans then peels them carefully down over his half-hard, fully caged cock. Once he steps out of them, Fleur reaches over to run a single finger over the tiny lock which holds it in place. A lock to which she has the only key, the only unlocking charm.

Bill's jaw tightens as he meets his brother's gaze. Charlie raises one ginger eyebrow, mere curiosity. Not shock at the chastity device. Fleur must have told him then. Which means they had been planning this. Together. He groans, even before Fleur's fingernail draws lightly over the side of his cock.

He curls his hands loosely at his side, his nipples hardening in the cool air of the cottage.

“I want to see you suck his cock.” Fleur points at Charlie. “You have done that for many years, yes?”

Bill's lips twitch at this, remembering how young he and Charlie were when they spied Uncle Gideon with his male lover- then duplicated what they saw. Charlie chuckles quietly then speaks for him, “Nearly twenty years.”

“Then you should know what you are doing. Show me.” Fleur steps back from Bill and crosses her arms over her chest once more and waits.

“Come on, Billy Boy. What are you waiting for?” Charlie is back to smirking. But he's also aroused. Bill can see the slight flush beyond the freckles on his cheeks and the telltale bulge in his trousers. Bill walks toward him and smirks back, hands going to his brother's flies and unfastening them, careful to let his fingers rub unnecessarily over the ridge of his hardening cock. This elicits a groan from Charlie and a broader smirk from Bill, who slides gracefully to his knees before Charlie as he reaches in to pull out his cock.

Charlie's hands settle reflexively on Bill's head, finger tips pushing through his hair. Bill licks his lips, mouth growing wet with eager hunger at the familiar scent of his brother's cock. He noses it softly, bumping along the length of it to the metal ring through the head of it. He curls his tongue around it, slides it through it, heated cockhead on one side of his tongue, skin-warmed metal around the rest. They both moan in unison, and Fleur giggles quietly, breathlessly. Without pulling away from Charlie's cock, Bill darts a glance to her. One hand is at her mouth, her cheeks slightly pink, but her blue eyes are darkening, becoming more intense. So he slides his tongue as far through the ring in Charlie's cock as he can then turns it up and licks nimbly over his upper lip. Fleur's eyes widen and Charlie groans. He pulls his tongue back into his mouth with a soft, but audible slurp. He winks boldly at Fleur then takes the whole head of Charlie's cock into his mouth, suckling tightly around it. After swiping his tongue over the slit to taste the pearling arousal there, Bill presses his head down, taking him farther into his mouth. Charlie repositions his feet, toes bumping against Bill's knees, while Bill cradles his cock with his tongue.

“Fuck, Bill. Let's show her how you really like it.” Charlie's voice is a ragged growl and Bill has just a moment to take quick breath before Charlie shoves his hips forward, cock driving into Bill's throat. His eyes crash closed and he stretches his jaw to accommodate him, whining at the press of the cock cage around him as arousal ripples through him.

“Ooh.” It's unmistakably Fleur's sound of surprised pleasure: eagerness mixed with curiosity at this new thing she has been presented with. This new thing of her husband sucking off his brother. Bill can't stop the groan that rolls through him at this, the sound cut off by another thrust of Charlie's hips. Charlie draws his cock back then thrusts forward again, using his hands in Bill's hair to move his head, tip it up, pull it forward in search of the proper angle. Then he finds it and Bill's throat is filled completely with cock, empty, full, empty, full as Charlie fucks his face in steady, deep strokes.

“Non. Stop. I do not want you to come yet. I want to see you fuck him. You do that, yes?”

“Yes,” Charlie answers breathlessly and he draws his cock out of Bill's mouth with a metallic clunk of piercing against teeth.

“Good. And he will stay on his knees to use his mouth on me.”

He isn't sure if it is the topic of discussion or the fact that she isn't addressing him directly, but his balls are aching, throbbing. “Please. Ma coeur.”

One eyebrow quirks as she looks down at him, her hands lifted to the neck of her robes. “Oui? What is it you want?

“You. I want my mouth on you. But please, free me first. So I can pay full attention to you and not this.” He gestures at his cock, which is swollen pink, pressing through the openings in the cage.

“Non. You will pay full attention to me anyway, William. I will not remove it until I am ready to do so. You will not ask again.”

And with that she begins unbuttoning her robes, capturing both his attention and Charlie's as one by one the buttons are freed and her pale skin is revealed. The narrow base of her neck, the delicate curve of her collarbone, the smooth sweep of chest and then fawn-coloured satin. Bill blinks, not recognizing this piece of clothing out of Fleur's extensive lingerie collection. But as she slips her robes off her shoulder, the whole thing is revealed: a corset, pulled tight at her waist, cupping- lifting her small breasts up. She has no knickers on; only the glistening blond curls and a narrow expanse of bare thighs are between the scooping bottom of the corset and the high matching boots.

Above him, Charlie moans.

Fleur caresses her narrowed waist, fingers drifting along the edge of the corset before she walks over to the edge of the bed nearest the men. She sits primly on the edge, facing Bill then slowly, coyly spreads her legs open, revealing the already wet flesh of her cunt.

“Come, mon chou. You are on your knees so you may whisper your prayers to me- here.” One hand floats over her cunt and that's the only invitation he knees. Leaving Charlie to stare in equally helpless arousal at the sight of her, Bill scoots forward then settles low on his knees, arse to heels, then presses his face between her thighs. He breathes in her scent before he reaches out with his tongue and sweeps it over her, spreading her lips with this tongue. He feels rather than sees her lean back to her elbows, her hips tipping up to him.

It's sacred, this opportunity- this taste of her: the sweet musk of her arousal, the tang of her flesh as he licks her. He's thought it before. Kissing her mouth made his heart stop. Sliding his cock into her brought him sharp pleasure. But it's her open cunt, her flushed lips, and swollen clit under his mouth that brings him peace. The feeling of her against his tongue, the taste of her blossoming through his mouth is an intimate, primal communion, which despite the fraternal audience, he shares with no man. This is his place, on his knees, head bowed in supplication and tongue dancing in unspoken praise, of this woman, his woman.

She moans her approval and her pleasure then a moment later speaks. “Fuck him, Charlie. Now.”

Charlie's never been the one to take orders easily, but there he is tearing off his shirt and tossing it to the side before he steps free of his trousers and pants. He drops to his knees behind Bill, so close that Bill can feel the warmth of his body even though they aren't touching. Never moving his mouth away from his wife, sucking softly on her clit, Bill tips his arse up to Charlie, offering the tight pucker of his hole to be fucked.

“Fuck, but look at you, Bill. Your face all pressed between her thighs, and your arse- just here, begging to be fucked. Aren't you?”

His fingers slide down the cleft of Bill's arse to his hole, rubbing in tight circles over it, adding increasing pressure to get it to open to him. Bill trembles then spreads his knees farther apart, his head filling with the scent of Fleur's wet cunt and the knowledge of what they are doing.

“Where's your lube, Bill? Fleur?” Charlie asks, fingers not quite in him yet, teasing them both with the immediacy and possibility of it.

Bill doesn't see Fleur's response or even how the lube gets to Charlie but a moment later it's there, slicking over his arsehole then pushed inside of it, inside of him, by one of Charlie's work-roughened fingers. Bill arches and gasps, drawing in a quick breath of air that's heavy with the moisture of Fleur's arousal.

“More, mon chou. Do not stop.”

He obeys, mouth returning to her cunt but he can't stay still as Charlie's finger works in and out of him, twisting and pushing, crooking and pulling before there's a second finger being added along the first and he hurts. It's not the stretch of his arse, even if it's been a couple years since Charlie's fucked him. It's the goddamn, fucking cage around his cock. It's pressing into him, the pain making him soften only momentarily before he's swollen against it again. And he's whining, helpless sounds of need rolling out of his mouth, trapped against the wet flesh of Fleur's sex, hips shifting as Charlie finger-fucks him.

He's quickly losing any ability to think outside of pain, pleasure, peace- cock, arse, mouth. And when Charlie presses something to Bill's hand with a command to take it, Bill does ,without thinking about it, or looking at it. It's small and hard, warm in his hand. He nearly drops it before realising it's slicked with lube and he feels out the size of it, the smooth length, the narrow neck, the flanged base. Plug, his addled brain dimly registers. Another creation by Charlie's metalworking girl. And then Bill understands. He lifts his hand up and presses the toy to Fleur's arsehole.

“Oh. Yes. Oh, Bill,” she breathes out as he slides it into her. It glides perfectly into her, leaving a rounded base outside of her that he can twist and rock the metal toy inside of her as he thrusts his tongue into her cunt, plunging it deep into her as Charlie resumes stretching his hole, in and out and twisting, thrusting and Bill's meeting the slide of his fingers with shallow rocks of his hips.

With a final sweep of his fingers just right, Charlie pulls them out of Bill who whines once more at the abrupt emptiness of his arse, pleading mindlessly for the tight constraint and throbbing fullness of his cock somehow be shifted with the emptiness. He redoubles his efforts on Fleur, tongue flickering quickly and she starts to arch and moan loud enough that the sound seems to echo in the room. He rotates the plug in her arse, tipping it up as he twists it, tongue fast over her clit, until she cries out and comes, thighs coming together on either side of his head and pressing tightly.

It's then that Charlie lines his cock up with Bill's hole then sheathes himself inside the hot clench of Bill's arse in one smooth thrust. It makes Bill arch and cry out hoarsely, caught by the grip of Fleur's thighs and the unyielding solidity of Charlie's hips and the too tight, too fucking tight confines of the chastity cage. He pants, mouth open and breath rushing over Fleur's damp curls. It's too much, too much and he starts whining again, pleading in incoherent syllables to Fleur, to Charlie, to anyone to free him.

Charlie's cock slides nearly free of his arse then slams back in, forcing another cry from his mouth then it's gone, the fucking contraption is gone and Bill is rock hard against his stomach, thick cock twitching hard as if to celebrate its freedom. He presses his face tightly to Fleur's cunt, rubbing his mouth, his nose, his cheek over her, smearing himself with her wetness. Again, Charlie's cock drives into him, so deep, so hard that the pleasure of it is nearly painful. With thumb and forefinger Bill does his best to match the rhythm with the metal buttplug, tugging it lightly out of Fleur's arse then pushing it back in again. It's not quite in time, not quite even, but it's there and she's rocking her hips to meet it. He sucks her clit back into his mouth, licking the hard flesh greedily, demandingly. His tongue falters with every thrust of Charlie's hips, every jarring, wondering, fucking amazing thrust. The sounds they are making are loud enough for Bill to hear, despite the occasional press of Fleur's thighs to his head as she writhes under him, her heels scoring pink lines over his bent back.

Charlie grunts and curses, pain not pleasure, then Fleur's legs are lifted up from him and she's pulled closer, impossibly, beautifully close to Bill's mouth. Charlie thrusts forward and pulls Fleur down, using her as leverage, Bill's body as the stopping point to keep her on the bed. Bill is caught, perfectly caught between them. His eyes roll back in his head, balls drawing up as he gives into being used like this. Being fucked from both ends: his arse filled and stretched with his brother's cock, hard and unrelenting; his mouth with his wife's wet, dripping wet flesh as Fleur twists and cries out and comes again. He drinks up the fluid that splashes against his chin eagerly, closing one hand around his cock, pulling on it in tight strokes. His shoulders tense, then his back and his legs and his arse as his orgasm rushes at him. Bill hears Charlie shout out his release, but it's distant, muffled now because he's nearly there, nearly there, and finally bursting out in hot splatters over his fingers and the worn wood floor below.

He's not sure how long it is before any of them try to move. Gradually Fleur's mumbling in sleepy French as she scoots back onto the bed, pulling away from Bill's mouth. And Charlie is straightening up again from where he's been resting against Bill's sweat-slicked back., muttering under his breath in a mix of Welsh and Romanian. Bill doesn't even try to speak. Fourty-four languages, and the best and most he's going to manage now is an exhausted but contented groan as his head flops onto the edge of the bed.

There's a quiet giggle from Fleur, a snort of laughter from Charlie and Bill grins wryly against the rumpled quilt hanging half off the end of the bed. Then he lifts his hand up and clearly, if silently, tells both his wife and his brother to fuck off.

Fleur giggles more. And Bill can hear, fucking hear the smirk in Charlie's laughter. But Bill decides that he'll punch the smirk off of his face later.



Feedback is love.