Archive of Our Own

We rounded a corner and I heard Robin draw in a sharp breath. "Oh, no," he hissed, softly.

The wide alleyway was filled with women, upwards of a dozen. It was like stepping into a Waterhouse painting. They looked soft and indistinct in filmy white dresses that flowed like water and did absolutely nothing to hide the gently curved and nicely rounded bodies underneath. Everywhere you looked you saw milk-white skin and petal-soft lips and crowns of flowers and leaves adorning shampoo-commercial hair. They watched as we approached, and they murmured to each other, and they smiled.

They were beautiful, if you happen to find raving lunacy attractive. Their eyes, once we got close enough, were wide and empty in that seriously no-one-home kind of way.

"Watch out," Robin warned tightly as the women swayed closer, singing and cooing and chanting. "Don't let them get their hands on you; you won't like what they do. They're not exactly the backrubs and foot massages types."

"Understood," Niko said. He slid his sword out with the bright rasp of steel. I pulled out my knife, and then they were on us.

Robin started cursing almost right away but there wasn't any time to look. Two of them flowed around me-- one blonde, the other dark. They grinned ravenous barracuda-grins and reached out with their soft white arms.

I slashed at the blonde, anticipating the arc of her blood in the air. Color me damn surprised when my knife slid against her skin like it was a cheap plastic toy, as if it had no edge at all.

"What the fuck?" I ducked back, kicking at the brunette as she made a lunge for me, arms out like she was about to sweep me into a hug. She hopped backward, light as a sparrow, and laughed delightedly, spinning around like a ballerina. Fuck, this was weird.

"This isn't working," I heard Niko say. More feminine laughter, high and sweet but with a broken-glass edge. I glanced back over my shoulder to see him surrounded by dancing pale-edged forms.

"I was afraid of this!" Robin wasn't doing any better. I watched him twist to one side just in time to avoid a rush of white silk. "Damn! Too much iron in the blades."

"They're resistant?" Niko sounded calm, utterly fucking calm, as if just being told "swords don't work on them" hadn't phased him at all. He slashed at one of the women hard enough that it would have been fatal, as in guts-spilling-everywhere fatal, but she only gasped and flung herself back. Her sisters caught her and then there was more laughter, like a group of friends at a bar on Friday night. Jesus Christ, they were having fun.

I backed away from my two dance partners. They were giggling like schoolgirls, tilting their heads this way and that like curious little birds-- or like curious little cobras, looking for the best place to strike.

"Iron can't hurt them," Goodfellow was saying. He sounded breathless already. "Neither can fire."

"Yeah?" I said. I reached under my jacket and pulled out the Eagle. "How 'bout hot lead?"

I didn't wait for a reply. I just pulled the trigger.

It was the first time I'd ever used explosive rounds on something human-sized-- specifically, on something the size of a small human woman-- and at close range. The results were spectacular, if you happen to think a blood and meat and bone-shrapnel shower is "spectacular". Personally, it was pretty low on my list of spectacular things, but it was still a few good notches above dying, so I did what I had to do. Distantly I could hear Robin calling my name, but between the gunfire and the sudden mad shrieking of the women it was impossible to tell what he was saying. They came at me like a flock of birds, screeching and laughing, biting and tearing and clawing. Hands yanked at my hair, my clothes, my skin, as if they could simply claw their way into me, or tear me apart like a piece of taffy. Maybe they could. I wasn't really keen on finding out.

I kept shooting. I ran out of bullets and had to kick and shove and punch my way out just to give myself enough time to reload, and then I was firing into them again. They didn't even try to dodge or scatter; they just kept coming, counting on sheer numbers to take me down.

They almost succeeded.

A bullet whizzed past my ear, catching the nearest delicate maiden high in the chest. She fell forward, into me, screaming and clawing and reaching for my eyes. I pushed her off, back into the throng of her companions, and then finished her off with a headshot. It took her entire head-- and a good portion of the chest of the woman behind her.

I was literally soaked in blood-- my shirt was heavy with it, my pants had gone from grey to black, and my sneakers damn near squelched when I walked. I could smell it everywhere, even taste it in my mouth, and-- it didn't taste like blood. It didn't taste like any kind of body fluid, in fact. It was acid-sweet, stinging on my tongue like raw pineapple or the juice from a pomegranate. I spat it onto the pavement, horrified. It can't ever be a good sign when the blood starts to taste like something you'd put a little cocktail umbrella in.

I turned just in time to watch the last of them fall twitching to the cement, a bullet in her brain. Niko's face was grim as he lowered the gun.

"Zeus above," Robin said, eyes wide. He was looking at me.

I grimaced and lifted the hem of my t-shirt. It peeled away from my stomach with a wet sucking noise. "Don't worry," I said, "I'm pretty sure none of it's mine." I could feel the sting of a few scratches here and there, but to my surprise nothing seemed too deep or painful. Had I actually made it out for once with the kind of injuries a shower and a couple of band-aids could fix? Maybe I was getting better at the whole self-preservation thing after all.

Niko moved toward me-- but was stopped by Robin's hand on his arm. "No!" He yanked Niko back with surprising strength. "Gods above, don't touch him!"

"It's only blood," Niko said with deceptive patience. And yeah, we'd seen worse. We'd seen way worse-- like all the times when the blood actually was mine. So why was Robin staring at me with something akin to horror?

I could see his fingers tighten on my brother's arm. "You don't understand. He's covered in them. It's like a poison--"

"Oh, shit," I said. I looked down at myself in sudden horror. "Fuck, you have got to be kidding me..." I felt dizzy. Was it the poison, or just the gut-shot of fear making my head swim?

"Let me go." Even through clenched teeth Niko sounded calm, but he was losing it. Goodfellow practically threw himself in Niko's path, and even scared as I was I couldn't help but wince. If my brother couldn't go around, he'd just go through.

As if sensing his own impending ass-kicking, the puck waved his hands frantically for my brother's attention. "Perhaps I misspoke. It won't kill him, it just..." He trailed off, and then looked back over his shoulder at me. There was something like rueful sympathy in his gaze now.

"Care to tell me what the fuck is going on?" I could still taste the burning-sweetness of their blood on the back of my tongue. My skin was starting to tingle, first cool and then warm. It didn't hurt. In fact, it wasn't even unpleasant. That was probably a bad sign. Now that I thought about it, when had I ever gotten a good sign?

Robin waved a hand, but as airy gestures go it was kind of abrupt. "They're Maenads-- a kind of nymph, I suppose you could say. Where they go, frenzy and ecstasy follow. I've... partied with them a few times, but that kind of intensity is enough to wear even me out." His mouth tilted up briefly, but then he frowned. "They go mad as they age, or madder, I suppose. From what we saw here, I'd say these ones were very old."

"And there's some kind of... poison, in their blood?" Niko asked.

Goodfellow shook his head. "More like a drug, I guess you could call it. It's in everything-- their spit, their tears, everything. A kiss can be enough to drive most men wild-- literally." Again his pitying eyes were back on me. "I've made out with them. I've never had an entire group of them bleed on me, though."

I sat down on the sidewalk, hard, because it seemed like such a good idea. I felt too warm all over-- warm and fuzzy, like a good alcohol buzz, making worry seem like a distant thing.

"Cal?" My brother's voice came sharp with concern.

I smiled at him. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine." He shot Robin a hard look. "Is he fine?"

"I don't know," Robin said. "Cal? How do you feel?"

How did I feel? It was hard to tell. I thought about it for a minute, but it was hard work with a brain that was starting to feel like it was swimming in maple syrup. "...Tingly," I said, finally, and then it abruptly struck me as hilarious and I started to snicker.

Niko's look went even more steely. "He sounds drunk."

"It's sort of like that," Goodfellow admitted. "...At first, anyway."

"Goodfellow--"

Robin held up a hand. "Entertaining as this is, can we finish playing Twenty Questions later? We really need to get that blood off him, and soon. It's doing him no good to be marinating in it."

I started to snicker even harder at "marinating". Heck, the stuff would probably make a pretty good sauce. Just pop me in the oven and I was ready to go. I fell over on the sidewalk, laughing. "Marinating," I repeated. "Someone call Julia Child."

A pair of Italian leather boots appeared in front of my face. I looked up at Robin. "Hi."

"Hello yourself. Cal? Can you do something for me?"

I considered it carefully. "Sure, buddy." What can I say? I was feeling awfully generous at the moment.

Robin rolled his eyes but went on. "Can you take that shirt off for me?"

I struggled to peel myself out of the wet fabric, but it was like trying to get all of the wrapper off a melted piece of chocolate. I gave up after about a minute. "Some help, here?" I asked.

The puck bit his lower lip. "That's... not a good idea. Never mind, Cal. Get up, now, it's time to go home." He said it like you'd say, Put your shoes on, Timmy, we're at Grandma's.

I glared at him. "I'm a little woozy," I protested, "not mentally retarded." I pushed myself to my feet-- too fast. It was just like being drunk-- my feet felt a lot farther away than they should have. I overbalanced hard and would've fallen right on my face if Goodfellow hadn't reached out automatically to catch me.

He made a small noise of disgust as I leaned on him, hard. When I looked over his expression had slid into something close to fear.

Niko was on my other side immediately, holding me up as well. "Cal, are you alright?"

"Sure, Cyrano." I gave him a grin and let my head flop onto his shoulder. "I'm all wine-and-roses."

Robin made another noise. "I told you not to touch, but no, no one ever listens to-- Never mind. My place is closer. Let's go. We have to wash it off as soon as possible."

We'd taken the subway here after Robin had complained of one too many cars with bloodstained interiors. And sure, he'd had a point. We were it, the walking (or in my case, stumbling), talking, blood-smeared point. That didn't make the fact that we now had to walk all the way back to his apartment any easier. The subway wasn't an option and neither was a taxi, now that we looked like extras from a Romero film.

"Hanging on, little brother?" Niko asked as I missed yet another step and leaned even harder on his shoulder.

"Sure," I said. I stretched out the word, making it sound like suuuuure. "If being drunk off my ass is the worst thing that happens to me tonight, I'll be ahead of the game."

On my other side, Robin looked grim. "You're righter than you know."

"Is he in danger?" Niko asked him, over my head.

Robin hesitated, then shook his head. "If we can get him cleaned up... Well, I can't say for sure. If worse comes to worst, I have plenty of spare handcuffs."

I felt my eyebrows trying to reach for my hairline. "Kinky son-of-a-bitch," I murmured, and then I had to stifle a really undignified giggle. What is it about being drunk that makes everything seem so damn funny?

Robin rolled his eyes and got a firmer grip on my arm, as if he would hoist me over his shoulder. "It's not for recreation, it's for protection. You saw how frenzied the Maenads were, didn't you?"

"Shit. You mean I'll try to rip your face off?"

"Probably not. But with your Auphe nature..."

Niko hissed. "Goodfellow, I don't like what you're implying."

Robin stared resolutely at the sidewalk ahead. "I'm only admitting that I don't know what will happen. It's bad enough that we're coated in the thrice-damned stuff ourselves." He paused. "...When did you say Promise would be back from Massachusetts?"

"Wednesday," Niko said, suspicion dripping from his tone. "Why?"

Robin sighed. "It would be so much easier if she were here. For you, anyway."

It was Sunday now. What could possibly go so wrong that we couldn't survive without the vampire for three days?

It was probably better not to ask. Ignorance is bliss, after all, and I was feeling pretty contentedly stupid right now.

Robin's apartment was in sight. I firmly ordered my feet to keep walking, and then when they sort of obeyed me I added sternly, in a straight line, please.

"My skin is starting to tingle," Niko said, matter-of-factly.

Robin's expression went even more grim, mouth settling in a flat line. "Walk faster," was all he said.

Even stumbling like the world's worst drunk wasn't enough to earn me a reprieve from the stairs. Goodfellow cursed and complained his way up every step, but at least we didn't meet anyone on the stairwell. My feet moved on autopilot all the way to Robin's door. Then we were inside-- past the blur of the living room, beyond the luxurious bedroom, into the marble-tiled bathroom. I found myself sort of unceremoniously dumped into a shower big enough to play basketball in. The water turned on with a hiss and I swore loudly, backing away from the too-hot spray.

"In," Robin said, enough steel in his tone that for a moment he sounded like Niko. "Get those clothes off and as far from you as possible. Scrub until you're pinker than the day you were born." His nimble fingers started to pluck at his own shirt-buttons and he looked over at Niko. "You too," he said. "The longer it touches you, the worse it will be."

The frosted-glass shower door slid shut. I crawled into the water and tried to do as I'd been told.

***

I sat in the shower for almost half an hour. I washed my hair twice and my body three times, scrubbing at my skin even after the water had run clear. The warmth was comforting, soothing, and the weird tingling had begun to fade away. Maybe Robin had been overreacting, or maybe my Auphe half made me more resistant to freaky nymph poison. I still felt a little syrupy between the ears, but I'm sure my brother would argue that it was practically my natural state, anyway.

Right now my natural state was leaning more toward the "healthy, red-blooded male" end of the spectrum. Maybe it was the nice warm shower and the fact that I'd just been sliding my hands all over myself, but Cal Jr. was waking up and starting to beg for attention. The hazards of being a horny young twentysomething-- your brain likes to go on break without notice, leaving your dick in charge of the store.

The water was still hot-- let's hear it for luxury. I slid a hand over myself, because what was five more minutes, after all? A quick jerk, I thought, and then a nice long crash on Goodfellow's couch. It sounded like the best idea I'd had all night.

Twenty minutes later I realized something was definitely wrong.

I leaned against the tiles, breathing hard. Either the water was getting cooler or my skin was getting hotter-- and now that I thought about it, I was feeling distinctly feverish. It wasn't the kind of fever a couple of Tylenol and an ice pack were going to solve, unfortunately.

I could get close, so maddeningly close, but I couldn't get off.

Calm down, Cal, I advised myself rationally. So you're a little wound up. It's nothing you can't handle. I stared down at myself, at my hand still stroking slowly up and down my length, felt it build and build and--

I bit back a noise, almost a sob. It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough.

There was a loud rap on the bathroom door. "Cal?" It was Niko. "Cal, are you alright?"

I choked on a laugh and reached over to spin the faucet controls, shutting the water off. I shivered in the steam-filled air. "I'm fine," I croaked, and it did not sound even remotely fine, not even to me. Shit.

I pushed open the shower door and groped blindly for a towel. Niko knocked again. "Cal, I'm coming in."

I wrapped the towel around my hips and leaned against the door. "No! Jesus, Nik, can't I have a little privacy?" My voice shook, but even as occupied as I was, I couldn't stop my own hand from sliding down to palm my cock through the cloth. I bit my lip against a moan. "Fuck," I hissed, because something had to come out. What was wrong with me?

I should've known I was no match for my brother's stubbornness. Inexorably the door began to slide open, and I just did not have the strength to fight against Niko. I let it go and slid to the floor.

"Cal?" A warm hand in my hair. I trembled and covered my face with my hands like I'd done as a really little kid-- you know, if you can't see them, they can't see you. It worked just about as well this time as it had back then. "Tell me what's wrong. Are you-- Oh."

Slowly, I lowered my hands.

Nik crouched in front of me, wearing his own boxer shorts and nothing else. Of course, my brain filled in, logically. Like anything of Goodfellow's would fit. Nik was just too big-- too broad, too tall, too sleekly muscled, and suddenly with a craving that felt like claws in my stomach I wanted to be pressed against all that and held.

I was actually moving forward when Niko's hands on my face stopped me. "Cal. What's going on?"

I had to swallow a few times before I could make my voice work, and it still didn't come out right-- too low, too husky, a whiskey-velvet rasp. "Dunno. I just... Fuck. Niko. Niko."

"It's the maenad blood," Niko said. I watched him wet his lips and then couldn't look away. "I feel it, too, but I only had a small amount on me, and for less time." His eyes were filling up with realization. "Oh, god. Cal."

"Yeah," I said, roughly. I laughed, and it came out bitter. "I can't think, Nik. I can't think of anything else but how bad I want to--" I stopped myself, snapping my jaw shut with an audible clack. Don't say it. Don't say it and it won't be real.

Niko was shaking his head, in denial of what I didn't even know. "I'm here. I'm here, little brother."

"I know," I said, and then with a feeling like lead pooling in my chest, I leaned forward and kissed him hard on the mouth.

***

Niko pulled back from the kiss almost immediately, eyes gone cartoon-wide. I'd never thought to see an expression like it on my brother's face, but I guess it was warranted. "Sorry," I gasped, miserably, "god, Nik, I'm sorry--"

As if "sorry" was going to cut it.

"Hush." He hadn't let go of my face, and he gave me a little shake just to show he meant business. "Cal, get a hold of yourself."

I couldn't help it; I laughed. "Already did," I murmured. "Didn't help any." I was still hard, painfully hard, like the boner from Hell had decided to possess me and no exorcist in the world would touch this case. Forget little blue pills; Cal Leandros was now the walking human Viagra. I wanted to hang my head in shame, but I also wanted to kiss Niko again. The conflict of desires was making me feel vaguely sick.

A warm hand slid around to the back of my neck. The gesture was so damn familiar, so damn Niko that I wanted to cry. He pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me, and it was like coming home.

It was also the worst possible thing to do, under the circumstances.

There was no thought to it at all; before I knew what I was doing I had leaned up to kiss him again. He turned his head away, breathing fast. "Don't. I can't-- I don't want to hurt you."

"I know," I said again. "I'm sorry." Then I grabbed him by the hair and pulled his lips down to mine and slid my tongue into his mouth.

Niko made a noise, small and desperate, and it scared me how un-Niko-like it sounded. He shuddered, and his fingers started to dig painfully into my bare shoulders. I kept kissing him, and he didn't push me away.

"Is he all-- Oh." Goodfellow. I let Niko have his lips back and looked up at Robin, feeling helpless and frantic, half-starved for-- For what? I wasn't even sure.

Robin stood in the bathroom doorway, staring down at us. His eyes were a little wide, a little wild, and I didn't need to ask to know that he'd seen everything. His hair was damp and he'd changed into an emerald-green pair of pajama pants. They looked glossy, like satin, and I was suddenly kicked in the gut with the crazy urge to run my hands over them and see if they were as water-smooth as they looked.

"It's the maenads' blood," Niko said, voice squeezed down tight with control. "It's affecting him, badly."

Robin nodded, eyes still wide. "I was afraid of this. Has he-- What else has he tried to do?"

"Nothing," Niko said. His words were coming out clipped now, shorn off for the sake of economy.

"No violence? No blood?"

Niko frowned at that, turning to look over his shoulder. "No. Why?"

Robin's shoulders sagged in relief. "If he hasn't tried to take a bite out of you yet," he said, a weak grin ghosting over his face, "I'd go with it."

"You can't mean..." Niko stopped there, as if he couldn't find the will to finish the thought.

I stared at Goodfellow, hard. "You're getting off on this."

The grin went up another notch. It still looked pale and sickly compared to his usual fox-in-the-henhouse expression, but it wasn't a denial, either. He shrugged. "Can you blame me? Besides, you so thoughtfully smeared me with the stuff, too."

I had, but... "I thought you were more resistant to poisons."

"I am. This isn't exactly the same, though. For one, maenads are like living, breathing aphrodisiacs, and I'm not exactly famous for my... restraint."

Niko let out a ragged chuckle. "So basically, they're like catnip for you."

Robin's eyes glittered very bright. "Basically."

"I am not going to... to..." Nik shook his head. He wouldn't say the words, but I could hear them in my head: fuck my brother. They seemed to echo there, and I hated myself for the rush of heat they brought. I squirmed, because I didn't know what else to do.

The towel slipped.

I watched Goodfellow watch the movement. I saw it the moment his eyes went predator-dark, the moment he saw me, achingly hard, and wanted me. No, I corrected myself. Wanted us. He wanted Niko, had wanted him for a long time, now. It was starting to look like it would be a package deal.

Heh. Package.

Nik sucked in a breath between his teeth. "Cal," he whispered. "Cal, don't--"

But I had to. The madness was creeping into my brain on hot dragging feet, and I didn't know what else to do.

I kissed him again, and I put everything I had into it-- every bit of Help me and every drop of I'm sorry, soaked liberally in Want and Need. I slid my tongue in and tasted him again, and then with a sharp desperate sound he was kissing me back.

Guilt and horror faded away under the sheer pounding fury of lust. I'd been horny before-- I'd been through puberty, for chrissakes-- but I'd never felt anything like this. It was like a red-hot glow just under my skin that threatened to spill out and consume everything in flames. I kissed my brother and moaned against his mouth as I writhed closer, touching him, begging him soundlessly to touch me. Please, please.

A noise from Goodfellow made me draw back.

He was gazing down at us, mouth open just a little, eyes gone slightly glassy as he palmed the front of his pants, squeezing roughly. "Gods," he gasped. "You can't even imagine how good you look together, can you?"

I wanted to call him a pervert, but sayings about pots and kettles kept my mouth shut. Well, almost. "You're a real class act, Loman," I said, but the low husky purr of my voice made it sound like an invitation, not a jab.

His eyes slid to half-mast, and his smile was pure wickedness. I watched, helplessly, as he stroked himself slowly through the rich fabric. White noise fizzed in the back of my brain, erasing all thought, all reason, until there was nothing left but solid want, and I moaned, long and loud.

That's when Niko finally took pity on me. He leaned in and kissed my forehead. "Okay, little brother," he said, and if there was resignation in his voice, there was an amused fondness, too. "I'm here for you. I'll do whatever it takes to help."

I believed him, but it still shocked me to the core when his hand closed around my cock and started to stroke.

***

Goodfellow made a hissing noise as he watched us. He had his hand down his pants now, and there was a damp patch along the front, darkening the fabric to nearly black. "Bed," he growled, voice gone low and hungry. "Now."

I didn't want to move, but Niko was sliding to his feet-- and since he kept his hand in place, I sort of had no choice but to go along. We followed Robin into the darkened bedroom, and as soon as I got within spitting distance of the enormous bed I was being roughly pushed down on it.

Niko leaned over me, kissing my mouth, my throat, anything he could reach. Robin-- Wait, where the hell had Robin gone?

I found out a moment later as an unfamiliar hand circled the tip of my cock, spreading the drops of fluid that had welled up at the slit. I looked down the length of my own body in time to see Robin give me a fleeting smile and then--

Thousands of years of practice I thought stupidly as he slid his mouth around me, not stopping until his nose was practically pressed to my skin. I shivered hard and let out an embarrassingly loud moan. Practice makes perfect, I guess.

His lips were soft, his mouth was hot and wet, and it was no time at all before I was arching off the bed. My hands had buried themselves of their own volition in the perfect short curls of his hair, and it was all I could do not to push his head down, to hold him there and just fuck up into his mouth. It never even occurred to me to push him off, to protest, to say I don't swing this way. It was good, and hot damn, I was swinging. He watched me the whole time, his eyes glittering in the bright moonlight that filtered through the window blinds, and I'd never seen anyone look so damned self-satisfied while giving a blowjob before. Porn stars had nothing on Robin. Jesus, he'd probably invented the art.

Niko combed fingers through my damp hair and whispered shockingly filthy (for Niko, anyway) encouragement in my ear. "Yes, Cal, do it, he wants you to. Fuck his mouth. Oh, god, Cal." I did it, because my brother told me to.

Goodfellow moaned around me as I shoved in deep and hard. He didn't flinch or gag or choke, he just took it and made noises like it was the best thing ever, like my cock in his throat was getting him off, like it was better than ice cream on a hot day. Fuck.

Niko licked hot and wet into my open, panting mouth. Heat washed over me, through me, and then, fucking finally, I was coming in a rush, coming harder than I'd ever done before, coming right down Robin's throat. He took that, too, and when it was finally over he drew back slowly, like he was savoring it.

He sat back on his heels and smirked down at me, and if he was the proverbial cat then I was the proverbial canary-- or maybe the cream. I was too busy trying to breathe to even make a smartass remark. Hell, he deserved that one. After a blowjob like that I was perfectly willing to let Goodfellow be a smug insufferable bastard for a while.

"Okay?" Asked Niko, softly, after about a minute. His fingers still played in my hair, soothing and familiar.

"Better," I rasped. My throat felt dry and I had to swallow to clear it.

"I'm glad to hear it," Robin said. He sounded a little rough himself, but his smile was nothing but pleased. "Now, if you don't mind--" And then he was crawling up the length of the bed and leaning across me to capture Niko in a very deep and thorough kiss.

Niko made another one of those uncharacteristic sounds-- surprised, confused, and maybe a little hungry. Maybe a lot hungry, I concluded, after an entire minute passed and he didn't shove Goodfellow away. Wow.

Wow was right. I watched them make out-- shamelessly watched them, because it was a little too late for shame, after all. Robin kissed my brother like he wanted to sink inside him, desperate as a starving man pouncing on a hamburger.

When they pulled apart at last, Robin was smirking again. "Now you know what he tastes like," he murmured, and there was no word strong enough for the look of pure unadulterated sex in his eyes. Niko let his own eyes slide shut, and then he licked his lips.

"Jesus H.," I breathed, shocked, and then I had my hand on my dick again.

***

"Here."

I looked down at what Goodfellow had rummaged out of a bedside drawer and pressed into my hands. I could feel my eyes widen: a packet of lube and a condom. I looked up fast enough to give myself whiplash. "Wait. You want me to--"

Robin wasn't looking at me. He was busy leaning over the edge of the bed to mouth at the bulge in Niko's boxers, and wonder of wonders, Niko was letting him. I heard myself groan, small and choked, but it sounded so far away, unimportant.

Nik was breathing hard, eyes trained on some spot down and to the left, like maybe if he didn't look it wouldn't be real. Goodfellow made a sound, something too warm and delighted to really count as a moan, and I saw my brother shiver.

The puck had lost his pants at some point in the proceedings, and surprise, surprise-- he wasn't big on underwear. He shifted on the bed, hips raising in the most blatant invitation I'd ever seen outside of a porno, except this wasn't the kind of porno I was used to watching. His fingers hooked in the waistband of Niko's boxers, and then he twisted so that he could look over his shoulder at me. His eyes were half-lidded, heavy and dark, and it made something clench tight in my stomach, made something electric shiver through my veins.

"Caliban," he said, pronouncing my name slow and careful, like it was hard to do. "This is the best way. Do it, please. I want you to."

And it hit me, then, what Robin was doing. He couldn't stop this, couldn't prevent it any more than I could, but he could set himself up as a barrier between me and... my brother. I swallowed hard. He was doing his best for both of us, softening the blow, trying to prevent disaster. I stared at him through the fog of lust and had one clear thought: I owe you one, man. I don't think I'd ever been so grateful to have that clever, twisted mind around-- around, and on our side.

I decided to let him know how grateful I was, in the only way I could currently manage.

"Fingers first," he said, smiling on one side as he watched me crawl forward on the bed. "I don't need a lot of, ah, warm-up time, if you will, but it'll still be easier if you-- Oh." He breathed out in a rush as I slid a hastily-lubed finger down and around his entrance. "Yes, exactly like that. Have you done this be--"

"Take care of Niko," I growled. It was the safest thing I could say right now, the only thing that wasn't Damn or Oh god or I'm going to fuck you until you scream my name. And no, I hadn't done this before, but thanks to a thorough Playboy education I had a pretty good idea how it worked. It couldn't be that different for guys than it was for girls, right?

I slid my finger in and Goodfellow shuddered hard. With almost the same motion he tugged Niko's waistband down; I heard my brother make a small, choked sound. I looked, because I couldn't not look, not when he made a noise like that. I raised my head just in time to see Robin trace a reverent path down his cock with licks and kisses.

"Jesus," I said again, and pressed my finger in harder. Niko echoed the sentiment with another soft noise, and then his hand came up to splay mindfully over the back of Robin's head. Not pushing, not even suggesting; just there. It was a lot more control than I had shown, but that was my brother for you, after all.

Robin was sucking now, his head bobbing slow and rhythmic, almost hypnotic. I got a jolt right in the pit of my stomach when I realized that I was fingering him now at the same pace, moving in time with his movements on my brother's cock. I slid another finger in, wet with more lube, and he made a low growling noise. Niko's fingers tensed and relaxed, tensed and relaxed, like he was fighting for control.

Robin pulled back just enough to murmur, "Hurry, now," in a low, thick voice. He didn't have to tell me twice. My hands shook as I pulled open the condom wrapper, but I managed to figure out what to do with it in the end. Contrary to popular belief, I did listen when my brother talked, and long-ago lessons involving a condom and a banana and a whole lot of embarrassed, squirming twelve-year-old me weren't going to go to waste. I rolled the condom on, hissing at the feel of my own hand, as frantic now as when we'd started, like maybe the lust would just keep building and building until it broke me. Don't think about it. Just do this.

I slid into him as slow as I possibly could, which I suspected wasn't slow enough. Robin made a sound, high and whining in the back of his throat, but I couldn't tell if it meant Yes, more or No, stop. I paused, panting, gritting my teeth, because he was so tight and hot and if I had to stop now I was going to die, I thought.

Niko hissed between his teeth; he had his eyes shut now, and his fingers were no longer just a hint at the back of Robin's head. They tangled in his curls, tugging rhythmically, and all I could think was Wow. Seeing my brother slowly come undone was almost enough to make me forget how badly I wanted to move.

Almost.

I gave a little twitch of the hips, barely even a thrust, and then because it felt so good I had to do it again, and then again, maybe a little harder this time. Robin made that sound again, desperate, almost helpless, and my control almost unspooled right there as I fought the urge to fuck more helpless noises out of him whether he wanted me to or not. I am not that kind of monster I chanted internally, but oh, how I wanted to shove him down face-first and just make him take it till he broke. I hated myself right then, and it gave me just enough incentive to still my hips so that I wouldn't have to face hating myself even more.

"Cal," Niko said, like maybe he knew. There was something almost like sorrow in his voice, but then his breath hitched and I opened my eyes in time to see Goodfellow pulling back again, grinning this time.

"Let's save the brotherly angst-fest for later, shall we? If you have time to mope, it makes me feel like I'm not doing my job." And then he did something-- tightened up his muscles, squeezed me like a hand-- that made me curse violently and grab his hips like they were the last stable things in the world. "Don't--" I managed to gasp.

He did it again.

I was in him to the balls before I even had time to debate the motion, and he arched his back and hissed "Good, good," which cleared up the debate once and for all. I growled as I drew back and then shoved in again, hard and fast. What had I been thinking? Robin was old hat at this. He could take a little roughhousing, right? I mean, nobody could blame me for wanting to give it to him good. Consider it payback for all the daily condescension, even.

"Get your mouth back on that dick," I snarled, and the sane part of me tucked at the back of my brain was shocked by my own language. I'd make a mental note to blush about it later. Maybe we could all agree to have it struck from the official records. Apparently it did something for Goodfellow, though, because he shuddered deliciously and then went back to mouthing at my brother's cock like it was the center of his oral fixation universe, which it was. Niko made another sound, like someone sighing as they slipped into a nice, hot tub of water. His eyes, though, stayed focused on me.

It was okay to move now, so I moved. I tried to keep it slow-- tried, and mostly failed. Everything was a blur of heat and motion, of the feel of Robin around me, rocking back against me, shoving greedily for more. Everything smelled of sweat and sex and lust, with the acid tang of maenad blood over it all for spice. It was in me, leaking out of my very pores, and even the world's most expensive body wash couldn't get rid of every last trace. I leaned down, almost draping myself over Robin, and licked at the back of his neck. He smelled of sweat and cologne, and under that lay something dark green and alive, like moss and leaves and sun-warmed earth. I bit him, lightly, and he moaned, loud and low.

"Cal." I almost didn't recognize my brother's voice, but his hand in my hair was completely familiar. His fingers tangled there, gently, and it made something deep inside me snarl as I rutted into Goodfellow harder, faster. This was no time for gentle. I wanted-- I needed--

"Please," I heard myself say, but it didn't sound like my voice. I choked back something that wasn't a sob, couldn't be a sob. I could feel something building in me, gathering like a fucking tide, the kind that sweeps whole cities away and washes the raw earth clean.

Robin shifted under me, unsteady, like he was fumbling for something, and then let out another of those wonderful pleading noises. It took me a while, but realization finally clicked-- possibly audibly-- in my sex-fogged brain, and I slid one hand from his hip down to his cock, fisting it almost roughly, giving it a little squeeze. It was big in my hand, huge and hot and wet like he'd already come, and before I could stop it the thought went through my brain like a sniper's bullet-- How would it feel to be the one taking it from him?

No, no, no. I might be swinging this way now but I was the pitcher, not the catcher, dammit. But oh, god, the image stayed, and I shoved into him harder and wanted it, wanted it so bad it hurt, like an ache that went all the way to my marrow. I lifted myself up in time to catch my brother's expression, so blazingly intense as he watched me it felt like my skin should be melting off my bones. "Nik," I croaked, because there wasn't much else to say that I wasn't already saying with my hands and eyes and hips.

His hand stayed in my hair, and I watched his eyes go heavy and his breaths come quick and sharp as he started to come. It wasn't something I'd ever wanted to see, but it was beautiful anyway, and it made something in my chest squeeze tight when he breathed "Cal," and let go.

I didn't have a chance of holding on after that, not with Niko's fingers tugging a little less gently as he lost control, not with Robin writhing against me, begging without words for more, yes, more. I gave him more. I gave him everything I could and I watched my brother's eyes as I did it and when I came it swallowed me whole, dragging me out of myself and sweeping all thought and reason into the black abyss.

I didn't mind. The abyss was warm and deep and as I sank it felt like home.

***

Waking up was one of the hardest things I'd done in weeks, and not just because it was still an hour before noon. I was afraid of what I'd see when I opened my eyes, afraid that last night wouldn't turn out to have been a kinky wet dream after all. Maybe if I just kept my head buried in the pillow a little longer...

Someone shifted next to me, and I realized there was a warm arm draped over my waist and an even warmer body pressed up against my back. Yeah, okay, so my brilliant plan was a failure before I even cracked open a lid. If it weren't how most of my brilliant plans played out I might've actually tried to work up the energy for resentment.

I peeled open one eyelid and took in the surroundings. Goodfellow's richly appointed bedroom gleamed back at me, warm with sunshine, the walls reflecting pale gold in the light. I was on the left side of the bed, with my back to the rest of the room.

The arm over my waist shifted slightly. I looked down before I could stop myself. Slim, elegant fingers, perfectly manicured nails-- Robin. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and tried not to wonder at the feeling of relief that threaded cautiously through me.

"Mmm," Robin sighed, and then he was shifting again, close enough that I could tell he was happy to be there. "Morning," he purred against the back of my neck, and amusement dripped thick as honey from his voice-- almost as thickly as smug satisfaction did.

From the other side of the bed I could hear Niko shifting, too. It made me tense, but all he said was, "This can be considered morning only in the barest sense of the word." His voice sounded thick, though, still heavy with sleep.

I snorted. "I think you've got it backwards, Cyrano. The asscrack of dawn is the part that don't count as morning. This? This is still eggs-and-bacon time."

Silence poured around us for a moment, heavy and waiting and still. Then: "Your talent for laziness really is unparalleled, Cal."

I felt myself relax. It was okay. Yeah, weird shit had happened, but we were okay. Even if we never forgot about this, it wasn't going to break us. We'd get back to normal, eventually, or what could be considered normal for us. I smiled and wriggled deeper under the covers. "Five more minutes," I murmured into the pillow.

Niko laughed, quietly. The sound filled me up with warmth that was nearly as golden as the sunlight.

Robin shifted, enough that I could tell he was now touching Niko, too. "I'm with Cal on this one. Why ruin such a beautiful morning by getting out of bed?" I didn't need to see him to imagine the lascivious grin that went with the words.

Niko made an impatient noise. "Don't you ever think of anything else, Goodfellow?"

"Hardly ever," came the cheerful response. "I once spent the better part of a week in bed with a certain fellow-- Casanova, maybe you've heard of him?-- and let me tell you, the rumors didn't even come close to--"

I groaned. "Seriously, Goodfellow, it is too early in the morning for one of your dirty stories."

He laughed-- such a happy sound, an all's-right-with-the-universe sound-- and nudged me with his shoulder. "But Caliban, you're almost cute when you blush."

The sheets rustled, and then I could hear Niko slipping out of bed. "Shower," he announced, to no one in particular, and then the bathroom door was shutting with a firm click.

Robin sighed heavily. "He really is such a prude. It's tragic."

"You sucked his dick last night," I pointed out, half to prove a point and half just to see if I could say it without wincing. I could, but it was still up for debate whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. If I closed my eyes I could picture it, in perfect tones of silver and black, and the memory was enough to make me shiver.

"I sucked yours, too." Robin shifted back until he was curled around me, warm and languid as a well-fed cat. His hand slid down my chest and then slowly further, fingers tracing a path down my stomach. "And you can't tell me it wasn't good, because then I'll know you're lying. No one who gets the Goodfellow Treatment can say that it's not good."

It had been good. Thinking about it now brought a hot flush to my face and a startling spark of interest from... lower places. "Fuck, Loman, back off," I hissed. This was not happening again. This was so not happening. I could control myself, dammit.

His hand cupped me, stroking slow and light, and I bit my lip, hips jerking forward without asking my brain for permission first. Okay, so maybe it was happening. Damn, and I hadn't even thought to insist on dinner and a movie, first.

"It'll be a few days before the maenad drug is totally out of your system," Robin said, his mouth close to my ear, his breath warm. "You'll be back to normal before you know it. Well, what you consider 'normal', anyway." He tsked.

"And until then?" I said, gritting my teeth against the urge to thrust into the circle of his hand.

"Until then," he said, licking at the rim of my ear, "might as well make the best of it."