Chapter 5: Water and Want
The water wasn't just hot; it was a scalding purge, sluicing away the grime of the cinema, the chill of the rain, the last clinging film of his old life. David stood with his head bowed, letting it drum against his neck, his hands braced on the cool, speckled tiles. His heart still raced, but it was a different rhythm now—not panic, but a wild, thrilling anticipation that pulsed in time with the spray.
Through the steam and the rush of water, he heard the soft creak of the door. He didn't turn.
"You alright in here?" Keith's voice, stripped of its usual gruffness, was just a low rumble.
David swallowed. The words felt like stones he had to push out. "Yeah." He paused, his knuckles white against the tile. The courage came from a place he didn't know he had, a wellspring opened by the touch of their hands downstairs. "It's… big enough for three."
A beat of silence. Then the sound of the latch clicking fully shut.
He heard the rustle of clothing, the soft thud of fabric hitting the floorboards. He saw their blurred shapes through the fogged glass of the shower enclosure before the door slid open, letting a gust of cooler air sweep in. Then they were there, with him, under the cascade.
Marcus stepped in first, his silver-streaked hair darkening instantly, water cascading over the planes of his chest, down the trail of dark hair that led below his navel. His cock was already half-hard, thick and heavy. He reached for David, not to pull him, but to cup his cheek, his thumb stroking David’s jawline. "Beautiful," Marcus murmured, the word barely audible over the water.
Then Keith moved in behind David, his solid, hairy body a furnace against David's back. David gasped as Keith’s arms wrapped around his chest, pulling him flush. Keith’s cock, fully erect and prodding against David's lower back, was a rigid, demanding heat.
"Christ, you're tense," Keith muttered into David's wet hair. His hands slid down David's slick front, over his stomach, lower. David jerked as those rough, capable fingers closed around his own hardening length. "Let go. We've got you."
Marcus watched, his dark eyes hungry. He took David's trembling right hand and guided it down, placing it firmly around his own cock. The feeling was electric—the hot, velvety skin, the solid weight of it, the jump of a pulse beneath his palm. "Like this," Marcus breathed, his own hand covering David's, showing him a slow, steady rhythm. "Just like that."
Keith’s hand on David’s cock mirrored the motion, a maddening syncopation. He mouthed at David's shoulder, biting gently, then soothing the spot with his tongue. His other hand wandered lower, over David's hip, across the curve of his arse.
David was panting, head lolling back against Keith's shoulder, his hand moving on Marcus of its own volition now. The world narrowed to sensations: the slam of water on his scalp, the grip of Keith's fist on his dick, the feel of Marcus thickening and swelling in his hand.
"Been thinking about this," Keith growled, his voice raw. "Since I saw you downstairs, all nervous eyes and bitten lips. Wanted to see you come apart." His probing fingers slid through the cleft of David's arse, seeking, pressing.
David tensed. "I've not… not really…"
"I know," Keith said, his voice softening for a second. "I'll go slow. Tell me to stop and I stop. Yeah?"
David, dizzy with sensation, could only nod. He looked at Marcus, who gave a reassuring nod, his breathing growing heavier as David's strokes grew more confident.
Keith’s finger, slick with water and the pre-come leaking from David's tip, pressed against his entrance. It was an impossible, burning pressure, then a sudden, shocking yield as the tip slipped inside. David cried out, his back arching.
"Breathe," Marcus commanded gently, leaning in to capture David's mouth with his own. The kiss was deep and searching, a distraction and an anchor. David moaned into it, the dual sensations short-circuiting his brain—the intimate invasion from behind, the taste of Marcus on his tongue, the pounding water.
Keith worked his finger in deeper, to the knuckle, a slow, relentless stretch. He held it there, letting David adjust, before drawing it almost all the way out and pushing back in. Then he added a second. The burn was sharp, bright, making David gasp against Marcus's lips. But beneath the burn, a new feeling bloomed—a fullness, a rightness. And when Keith crooked those fingers, searching, and brushed a spot deep inside him, David saw white behind his eyelids. His whole body convulsed.
"Fuck, there it is," Keith grunted, rubbing the spot again, making David whimper and buck helplessly. "You're a quick study, aren't you?"
Marcus broke the kiss, his forehead resting against David's. "You're doing so well. So perfect." He guided David's hand faster on his cock, his own hips beginning to jerk into the tight circle of David's fingers.
Keith withdrew his fingers, the loss making David groan in protest. He heard the slap of skin, the fumbling of a bottle cap. A cooler, slicker liquid dripped down his cleft. Keith’s cockhead, broad and blunt, replaced his fingers, nudging insistently at David's stretched opening.
"Now, this might hurt for a second," Keith said, his voice strained with the effort of holding still. "You tell me."
"Please," David begged, the word torn from him. He didn't know what he was asking for. For it to stop. For it to never stop.
Keith pushed.
The burn was immense, a tearing, consuming fire. David choked out a sob, his nails digging into Marcus's shoulder. Keith froze, buried only an inch inside.
"Breathe through it, lad," Keith whispered, his own body shaking. "Just breathe. Let me in."
Marcus kissed David's tears, his throat, murmuring nonsense praise. "You can take it. You're so tight, so good for us."
David forced a shuddering breath into his lungs. He focused on Marcus's eyes, on the love and lust he saw there. He deliberately relaxed the clenched muscles in his back, his thighs.
Keith felt it. He groaned, a sound of profound relief, and sank deeper, another inch, then another, in a slow, excruciating glide until his hips were flush against David's arse. He was fully sheathed, a deep, unimaginable fullness that stole the air from David's lungs.
"Fucking hell," Keith rasped, utterly still. "You're so fucking tight. Like a vise."
Then he began to move. A slow, withdrawing drag that made David keen at the loss, followed by a firm, rolling thrust back in. The sharp pain began to recede, replaced by a friction that sparked directly on that incredible spot inside him. Each thrust jolted through him, forcing ragged cries from his throat.
Marcus was watching, enthralled. He slicked his own hand and wrapped it around both David's cock and his own, fisting them together in the streaming water. The sensation was overwhelming—Keith pounding into him from behind, Marcus's hand working their cocks in a slippery, frantic rhythm.
The pace increased. Keith’s thrusts lost their measured control, becoming harder, faster, driving David forward into Marcus's grip with every snap of his hips. The room filled with the sounds of their bodies: the wet slap of skin, Keith’s ragged grunts, David's broken moans, the low, approving murmurs from Marcus.
"I'm not gonna last," David warned, his voice a shattered thing.
"Don't you fucking hold back," Keith ordered, pounding into him. "Come for us. Let me feel it."
Marcus tightened his grip, his thumb swiping over the heads of both their cocks. "Look at me, David. Look at me when you come."
David forced his bleary eyes open, locking onto Marcus's gaze. The coil in his gut wound impossibly tight, fed by the brutal rhythm of Keith's fucking and the tender command in Marcus's eyes. It shattered.
His orgasm ripped through him with a silent scream, then a raw, tearing cry. His cock pulsed in Marcus's fist, streaks of white mixing with the water, his body clamping down violently around Keith's driving cock. The intensity made his knees buckle.
Keith swore, a filthy, grateful curse, and drove into him three more times, hard and deep, before slamming home and holding there. David felt the hot, sudden flood deep inside as Keith came, his own body jerking with the pulses.
Through the haze, David felt Marcus's rhythm stutter, then his warm release joined their own, coating their entangled flesh.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of the water and their heaving breaths. Keith slumped forward, his weight pressing David into Marcus, who held them both up against the tiles. Keith’s softened cock slipped out, followed by a trickle of warmth down David's thigh.
Slowly, Keith reached around and turned off the water. The sudden silence was deafening.
They stood there, dripping, entangled, breathing in the steam. Keith pressed a surprisingly tender kiss to the nape of David's neck. Marcus, still holding David, rested his forehead against his.
No one spoke. The rain tapped against the window. Downstairs, the old shop settled with a creak.
Keith was the first to move, grabbing a large, clean towel. He began to dry David with a rough, thorough care, as if he were something precious and fragile. Marcus did the same for himself, then took the towel and finished drying David’s back.
When David finally looked up, his body humming and utterly spent, he found both men watching him. Keith’s expression was satiated, blunt, but soft. Marcus’s was one of deep, quiet awe.
"Bed," Keith said, his voice gravelly. "Now. Before you fall down."
They led him, naked and pliant, down the dark hall to a bedroom dominated by a large, unmade bed. Keith pulled back the duvet and nudged David onto the cool sheets. Marcus climbed in on one side, Keith on the other, boxing him in with their warmth.
David lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, feeling the steady ache between his legs, the unfamiliar wetness. Keith’s arm was thrown heavily over his chest. Marcus’s fingers were laced with his.
The last thought he had, before sleep pulled him under, was that the unknown wasn’t a cliff. It was this. It was a bed between two men, in the heart of a sleeping city, and for the first time in his life, he was not afraid of the dark.