Randy’s kiss was rough and consuming. Killian felt out of control as he moaned, body arching just to get a little bit closer, but Randy seemed to already know what he wanted, a thick thigh inserting itself between Killian’s legs. He rubbed there, the friction over Killian’s cock almost unbearable.

The fucking scent of him, so thick it was like he was in rut, spice and earth and bark. Killian had to break the kiss and bury his face in Randy’s neck, taking in deep lungfuls of air. Randy did the same, licking up the side of Killian’s neck before pressing his teeth to the slope that ran into Killian’s shoulder.

Killian stilled, waiting for it, wanting it, but Randy pulled away slightly, asking, “Can I mark you?”

Killian should say no. Most clients hated seeing marks left by other people—he’d made it a rule not to let people bruise him up unless it was part of a scene and they were paying extra.

But the idea of carrying Randy’s mark, of being able to press it and remember, was too much to turn away.

“Yeah. Yeah, please, Randy, mark me up.”

Randy groaned and bit down, worrying at the spot as Killian bucked his hips, desperate.

“Jesus,” Jamie’s voice said. Killian blinked open his eyes, taking in the flushed, aroused look on Jamie’s face, and pulled him closer.

Randy moved to the side easily, adjusting so he could leave another bruise on Killian’s neck as Jamie stood on his tiptoes to kiss Killian messily, desperately, pulling at Killian’s hair until he moaned.

Killian sank completely into the sensation of being taken by people he actually wanted to give himself over to, whining high in his throat as Randy lapped at the mark he’d just left.

It all of a sudden became too much, head spinning. “Wait,” he said, and for the first time in his life, that word made the people he was with stop what they were doing immediately.

Randy leaned away, cupping the side of Killian’s neck as if soothing the bruises now no doubt blooming there. Jamie settled back on the balls of his feet, blinking up at him, lips red and wet.

“Sorry,” Killian said because, what the fuck was he doing, stopping clients midway through sex?

“No,” Jamie said, keeping his hand on Killian’s chest but taking another step away. “Fuck, sorry, we weren’t actually planning on doing anything.…We just wanted to spend time with you, really.”

Killian snorted out a laugh. “I mean, I was fully part of initiating that. If you guys wanna have sex, of course I can—”

Randy cut him off. “No, it’s okay. Uh, shit, I totally got carried away. Your neck…”

Randy’s hand fell away as Killian lifted his, pressing against the sore skin. The ache made a shiver run through him, eyelids fluttering, but he kept himself together. “It’s okay. I said yes.”

Randy seemed uncertain but didn’t argue.

Jamie took a deep breath, letting it out with a wobbly smile. “How about we cool off? We still need to make this lasagne. I’m kinda starving.”

Killian nodded, grateful for the out. He couldn’t make sense of why he’d freaked out while kissing them, why his body had become weirdly overwhelmed, his heart racing too hard to handle.

It took a while for the awkwardness of trying to will away boners to dissipate, but by the time they were constructing the lasagne, they were back to teasing each other gleefully.

Killian watched Randy complete the last layer. “A lot of béchamel, huh?”

Randy shrugged, shooting Jamie a look. “This one is obsessed. Whenever we go to a restaurant, he asks if the lasagne has béchamel and refuses to eat it if it doesn’t.”

Jamie scoffed. “Well, why would you do that to a lasagne? Huh? Defiling it like that…”

Killian laughed. “O-kay. I actually make mine with a cheese sauce.”

Jamie groaned dramatically. “That’s perverse. What’s wrong with you?”

“Cheese is good,” Killian defended.

“Béchamel is superior. You’ll see.”

The truth was, the lasagne turned out delicious. Killian couldn’t help but make a pleased noise at the first forkful, even though it was just on the side of too hot. “Shit, this is good.”

Jamie smirked. “Told ya. Don’t doubt me again.”

Killian nodded sombrely. “Never again. I don’t even know another dish that uses béchamel.”

“Oh,” Randy butted in, “I make him this thing which is literally just puff pastry filled with béchamel. I mean, it has cubes of ham, but it’s mostly béchamel.”

Jamie closed his eyes and moaned. “And it’s delicious.”

Killian hummed. “I’ll make that for my sister, see what the verdict is.”

“You close with your family?” Jamie asked.

Usually, Killian had a prepared answer—enough to satisfy the client without giving too many details. A ‘They’re all right. Family, you know? How about you?’ People loved to talk about themselves—it was the best way to change the subject.

This time, though, Killian found himself being more honest than usual. “Just my sister, really. Mom died when I was young. Don’t really get along with my dad.”

“That’s cool you have your sister,” Jamie said. “We’re both single children, so we don’t know anything about sharing.”

Killian smirked a little. “I mean, you guys seem to share just fine to me…”

Jamie blushed. “Okay, shut up. You’re just easy to share with, is all.”

Now it was Killian’s turn to flush. “Oh, yeah? Thanks.”

“Don’t get a big head about it. What’s your sister like?”

“Oh, she’s…protective. Kind, but tough. Incredibly smart—she’s a lawyer. Public defendant.”

“Oof.” Randy winced. “That’s gotta be tough.”

“Yeah, she’s so busy it’s crazy. She loves it, though—she’s always been super passionate about that stuff.”

“She sounds great,” Randy said.

Killian smiled. “Yeah, she’s my best friend, really. Anyway, I don’t even know what you guys do for work.”

Jamie pointed at himself. “I’m a lead copywriter for a marketing company.”

“I’m an electrical engineer.”

“Oh, shit. Two smarty-pants, huh?” Killian tried not to feel self-conscious about his own career choices.

Randy shrugged. “It has its ups and downs. Like your job, I figure—bet it takes a lot of social smarts to do what you do. I don’t think I’d be able to interact with so many people and keep my cool.”

Killian huffed a laugh, staring at his plate. “I mean…I guess. Some clients are better than others, just like any other job.”

“I can imagine,” Jamie said. There was a pause before he continued. “Uhm, I also wanted to say…I’m sorry if I crossed a line last time, at the end there. I know your time is valuable. I didn’t mean to imply that we were, you know, taking you for granted or anything by asking you to stay longer than we agreed to.”

Killian looked up at him, startled by the apology. “No, it’s cool. I just…I guess a big thing that I have to deal with is that people like to feel wanted when they spend time with someone—sexual or not, you know? Like, they want to feel that the person is there because they like them, because they want to be there, and paying for someone’s time can mean they feel the opposite.”

Jamie and Randy nodded like they were following Killian’s explanation.

“And I need to keep that boundary in place—that clients know that, like you said, my time is valuable and they’re paying for it. But there are times when I genuinely enjoy spending time with them, and that’s definitely the case with you two. So, sorry, I guess I’m sending confusing signals because…thanks for acknowledging that my time is paid for and should be respected, but also I hope you know that I really like spending time with you guys, too.”

Jamie and Randy shared a look. “We like spending time with you too,” Jamie said. “But, yeah, we don’t want you to feel taken advantage of, and I hope you know that you can stop at any time. You can tell us when we’re doing something that you don’t like or isn’t appropriate, and we won’t be angry or stop seeing you or anything.”

Jamie wasn’t the first client to say that, but it was the first time Killian actually believed it. “Thanks.”

Jamie nodded decisively. “Good. Anyway, you wanna watch a movie after this? Everything I suggested was nixed by Randy, but we can watch Pixar or something.”

“Hell yes,” Killian cheered, happy both at the choice of movie and the change of topic. “Love me a good animated movie.”

“Fave?” Jamie asked.

“Emperor’s New Groove. No contest.”

Randy laughed. “Arthur legit led on a squirrel.”

“Scoundrel,” Killian said, setting all of them off again even though the statement wasn’t even funny.

By the end of the movie, Killian felt worn out in the best way, cheeks sore from laughing. He was warm from the two bodies pressed against his, the heat of Randy’s laughter on his neck.

It made Killian realise how long it had been since he had felt comfort like this with anybody except his sister, and even that was a different sort of feeling.

Killian didn’t have friends. A few acquaintances, maybe, but it was hard to get close to people. Or, Killian found it hard to get close to people.

His sister’s face swam in front of him, the hill that formed between her eyebrows when Killian updated her on the nothing that was his life in the past few years.

She had an Alpha and a group of friends she went to bars with to do trivia nights, the nerds. She had a career that fucked her up a little, but that gave her a sense of purpose, too.

Killian had literally never had a sense of purpose. Or, if he had, his dad had chipped away at it until there was nothing there. One time, a client had called him useless, and his mind had just spun right out of his head. He couldn’t even remember what had happened for the rest of the session, just white noise where a memory should be.

There, between Randy and Jamie, Killian felt settled, somehow. Like that small spot on the couch was somewhere he actually belonged.

Which was so stupid, it was ridiculous.

Jamie’s voice cut through Killian’s spiralling. “That was great, right? New favourite animated film.”

Killian smiled reflexively. “I mean…the lack of llamas was a real disappointment. Sorry.”

“But the squirrels? Eh? Huh?”

“The Emperor’s New Groove also has squirrels.”

“Yeah, but these are superior squirrels.”

Killian pretended to think about it. “Okay, I’ll give you that.”

“Thank you.” Jamie leaned over Killian to look at Randy. “He’s mine now.”

“I don’t think so.” Randy squeezed Killian into his side. “Hands off.”

Killian laughed. “There’s enough of me to go around,” he said, even though it tasted like a lie.

Most days, he felt spread thin, like people were taking bits of him and not giving anything back.

For now, though, he could pretend he was whole, and that he could give it all to whomever he wanted.