“Cross your arms behind your back,” Justin ordered. “Grab your wrists in your hands.”

Keith did as he was told, and Micah stood behind him silently drinking his coffee. Justin turned his head, one eye still focused on Keith, while he directed his voice toward Micah.

“Go upstairs and entertain yourself.”

“Sir,” Micah whispered hesitantly. Justin felt Micah’s warm fingertips brush against his hip before they disappeared. “Are you going to punish him?”

Justin squared his shoulders. “I’m setting new rules, then I’m going to punish him for acting like a child at Jack’s wedding.”

Micah didn’t move from behind him.

“Did you want to share in that?” Justin grit out with an edge of menace in his voice.

All last night had done was prove to Justin that he’d taken too soft of a hand with Keith. He’d indulged Micah by letting Keith wear a collar and pretend to play a part without truly understanding what was expected of him, and that was no one’s fault but his own. He’d mistakenly assumed that Keith understood what was expected, since he’d been around for long enough to see and participate in the dynamic, but he was wrong.

He’d been blinded by a fascination with the curly-haired man who stood before him, eyes downcast and wrists restrained. It was also true that Justin was spoiled with Micah—a natural submissive who knew how to push without overstepping, even though he was now dangerously close to doing just that.

Justin remembered years ago, the easy way he’d fallen into dominance after he met Micah. Ownership and care were like second nature for him, and while they played heavily, Justin hadn’t ever been one for causeless punishments, which is where he found himself now. But he had to admit Keith wasn’t the only one who had erred.

“Yes.”

Micah’s voice shocked him, his eyebrows lifting in doubt. He directed his attention to Micah, only to find him setting his mug onto the counter and stepping forward.

“Why?” Justin questioned, using Micah’s dedication as an opportunity to temper his anger. Justin wouldn’t ever strike Micah, or Keith, out of anger and so he strived to channel his own feelings into something more productive before he took action.

“I should have watched out for him better last night. I would have if it was you. I love him,” Micah said, standing beside Keith. “He deserved better from me.”

Justin swallowed and blinked away the burgeoning dampness in his eyes. “He deserved better from me too, but we deserved more from him.”

“Yes, Sir,” Micah agreed, with a barely audible echo from Keith.

“Back upstairs then,” Justin ordered. “Strip and bend over the bed, hands flat on the mattress.”

Micah and Keith scurried out of the kitchen, their footsteps banging up the stairs and into the bedroom. Justin stayed in the kitchen to catch his breath, to remind himself this was for all of them. His heart ached for his shortcomings and failures, and he rubbed at his breastbone the entire ascent up the stairs.

In the bedroom, he found Keith and Micah as he’d instructed, side by side at the foot of the bed with their legs spread and their fingers splayed across the sheets.

“So, you think you owed Keith more than you gave him?” Justin asked Micah while he dug through one of the dresser drawers.

“Yes, Sir.”

“And what about what Keith owed you? Or owed me?” He pulled a thick leather strap from the jumble of toys and snapped it between his hands.

“I let everyone down,” Keith rasped.

“You did,” Justin confirmed, flinging the belt over his shoulder and placing his palms flat against the smalls of Keith’s and Micah’s backs.

“But I did you a disservice by not being clearer in my expectations,” Justin advised, running his palms up their spines. “Unfortunately, that only goes so far and doesn’t negate a complete lack of decency and common sense.”

“Yes, Sir,” Keith and Micah whispered together.

“Micah is first, then. He gets six.” Justin pulled the strap from his shoulder and dragged it down the length of Micah’s back. “One for every year that he’s known better.”

“I don’t know what it is about you, Keith,” Justin continued, sliding the cool leather down the back of Micah’s legs. “Micah just loses himself when you’re around, but then again, so do I.”

Justin arranged the strap in his hand and reared back, the leather landing against Micah’s skin with a crack that echoed around the room.

“One, Sir,” Micah grunted, fisting the sheets in his hands and dropping his head lower between his shoulder blades.

Justin watched the familiar and comforting way Micah breathed through the pain, and he knew that Micah truly believed he deserved the five remaining strikes. It was one of the things Justin loved about him—his willingness to absorb pain in the pursuit of future pleasure.

Justin swung again, a sharp sound paired with an impact that vibrated into Justin’s arm. He knew this had to hurt, with no warm up, but that was what a punishment was. It wasn’t the kind of spanking or impact that was designed to feel good. He knew for a fact that none of them felt good about any of this.

“Two, Sir,” Micah’s voice wavered. Keith’s pinky finger extended, crossing over Micah’s in the barest of touches.

Justin delivered the third strike, and the fourth, with Micah shouting them out with increasing levels of agony in his voice. Keith had given up the pretense now, his hand half over Micah’s in a show of support that made Justin’s pained heart skip. He couldn’t think of a time he’d loved the person Micah was more than now.

A man of his word, he dropped the fifth and sixth slaps against Micah’s bruising backside. He dropped the strap and stepped in close, using his palms to soothe the sting in Micah’s skin. Micah’s body was shaking, his ass bright red with small purple specks and gooseflesh raised across the entire surface.

He wept quietly, the occasional sniffle being the only thing that gave him away. Justin reached around the front of him, unsurprised to find Micah’s cock hard.

“You’re insufferable,” he huffed, giving Micah’s dick a rough twist.

Micah wheezed, a half-laugh, half-sob. “Ow, fuck. Thank you, Sir.”

“All is forgiven,” Justin reminded him.

“Thank you,” Micah whispered.

“Get on the bed, Micah. On your belly so you’re facing Keith.” Justin bent over and picked the strap off the floor while Micah scrambled onto the bed. “Hold his face in your hands.”

Micah lifted onto his elbows, moving close enough that he could cup Keith’s cheeks in his hands without falling over. Micah smiled at him, even as he cried through the aftermath of his own punishment.

“Remind me of your safeword, Keith,” Justin proposed, a check-in and a reminder that no matter how hard the pending punishment was for Keith, he had the power to stop it at any time.

“Red,” Keith answered with a steady voice.

“What happens when you say that?”

“It’s over.”

“No, Keith.” Justin bracketed Keith’s hips with his hands and held him steady from behind. “It won’t be over, but whatever is happening will stop. There’s a difference, understand?”

Truth of the matter was, Justin wasn’t ready for any of this to be anywhere close to over and he’d fight through Keith’s demons with every ounce of control in his body if that was what he had to do to see them through to the other side of this; to a place where Keith’s past was no longer their future.

“Yes, Sir,” Keith answered, voice wavering slightly but still strong.

Justin stepped away and fingered the leather strap, dragging it over the slope of Keith’s ass.

“You don’t need to count, but you do need to answer me,” he advised, laying the first smack of the strap across Keith’s ass.

He jerked and inhaled, but Micah held him steady, as Justin had intended.

“Why did you drink so much?” Justin asked, striking Keith a second time.

“I don’t know,” Keith exhaled.

“Why did you drink so much?” he asked again on the third strike. A little harder, a little firmer.

“I didn’t mean to,” Keith tried.

“Why did you drink so much?” Justin pressed again with the fourth swing of the strap. Keith’s body jerked and twisted and Justin laid another thick stripe across the already tender skin of his ass.

“I was scared,” Keith cried, his voice watery and shaky.

“What were you scared of?” Another hit, another question.

Keith shook his head and Justin swung again, his eyes watering at the violent sound of leather against skin. He repeated the question with every strike until Keith found an answer.

“Losing you!” he shouted. “Losing him, losing this.” Keith’s body was wracked with sobs. “I don’t deserve to have any of this.”

Micah was crying, inches from Keith’s face as he implored their partner with his eyes to see the depth of his love. Justin sniffed and used his forearm to wipe his eyes.

“What’s around your neck?” Justin asked, another hit.

“A collar,” Keith mumbled.

“Whose collar?” Another hit.

“Yours!” Keith cried, fighting against Micah’s hands, his own pulling at the sheets furiously. “Yours! It’s yours! I’m yours.”

Keith sobbed openly, the pain of his admission mirrored back to Justin across the lines of Micah’s face. Justin dropped the strap onto the floor and placed his palms gently against the red and tender skin he’d just been punishing. Keith jumped, but quickly settled, his body dissolving into a cry that sounded far more like relief than pain.

Justin traced the vertebrae in Keith’s spine with the heel of his hand, dragging his hand all the way up Keith’s back until his fingers tangled into his hair. He yanked backward, tearing him from Micah’s embrace.

Keith’s face was much as Justin had expected it to be, blotchy, red and wet, much like Micah’s, much like his own. Keith studied Justin’s face and burst into a fresh round of tears, mumbling apologies and begging for forgiveness.

“No more drinking,” Justin whispered.

Keith nodded furiously.

“You do nothing except use the restroom without my permission until you’re told otherwise, do you understand me?” Justin questioned, Keith’s desperation being the only strength Justin needed to realize finally what kind of dominance Keith needed from him.

“Yes, Sir,” Keith agreed.

“Why do you need to yield everything to me?” He was pretty sure of the answer, but wanted to hear the words from Keith’s mouth so he could be certain—so he could understand.

“Because I know I can walk away,” Keith wept. “I won’t. I don’t want to, but I know that I can.”

Much as Justin had suspected, Keith was using him as a way to regain control over his life, and Justin couldn’t fault him for that in the least. All he could do was try his hardest to be what Keith needed, to be what Micah needed, the weight of that responsibility heavy but not yet crushing.

“I know,” Justin agreed, dragging his lips across Keith’s temple.

“Thank you,” Keith stammered.

“Oh, don’t thank me yet,” Justin said with a quiet scoff. He released Keith’s hair and his head lolled against Micah’s. “I’ll do my best to be what you both need, and I’ll do my best to make sure you’re always safe and protected.”

“I love you,” Micah interjected. Justin looked at him, reaching forward to wipe tears from his cheek.

“I love you. Now no more of this.”

Justin stepped away and clasped his hands together behind his back.

“No more crying, we’ve had quite enough,” he continued.

Keith raised his head and wiped his face with the heels of his hands. He sat on the edge of the bed gingerly and Micah reached for him, twisting their fingers together. They were a perfect picture, with their swollen cheeks and the tear-stained faces, so eager to use their bodies to please him.

“We’re not done, though,” Justin breathed out, closing his eyes and taking a fortifying breath. “I too am at fault and deserve to bear some of this.”

“What?” Keith asked, confusion furrowing his eyebrows together.

“Make love,” he rasped.

“Well, come on then,” Micah countered, lifting his hand and holding it toward Justin.

He shook his head, taking a step backward toward the dresser, fingers still twisted behind his back.

“No. Just the two of you.”

Micah worried his lip between his teeth as if he were thinking. He turned to the nightstand and tossed lube onto the bed, no condoms, as their test results had come back negative weeks ago. He still looked uncertain of what Justin was asking him to do.

“Remind me what I’m fighting for,” he whispered. “Please.”

Micah’s lashes fluttered and he dove for Keith, catching his mouth before he could cry again. They tangled together, all long limbs and bruised skin, their tongues licking at every inch of neck or throat or chest they could find. Keith flipped Micah, burying his face in the crook of his neck while he buried his cock into Micah’s ass. They cried out, groaning and writhing around, two bodies focused on each other, two pairs of eyes locked onto Justin.

Justin’s cock grew so hard it ached, his erection protruding into the space between them like a monolith. He didn’t touch himself. He offered himself no participation, no release. He grit his teeth through his arousal, denying himself what he wanted more than anything in this world. Instead he watched as the two men he loved fucked each other into oblivion, doing exactly what he’d asked of them.

Keith pulled out of Micah and came, painting his face with jets of release that he licked clean before shoving his tongue into Micah’s open and hungry mouth. Micah’s cock released between their stomachs, his body tensing and jerking while his balls emptied. Keith scraped Micah’s cum from their skin and shoved his fingers into Micah’s mouth, feeding him and kissing him at the same time.

Justin’s balls were tight and hot and he would have shot off if either of them had so much as looked at his cock, but they didn’t. After they’d kissed and petted and cleaned each other up, their eyes fell back on Justin’s face. He swallowed and clenched his jaw, in urgent need of a release he wouldn’t allow himself.

“I won’t fail either of you again,” he vowed.