Heat

Author: Nightengale
Rating: MA for graphic sex
Summary: When the heat goes out in the apartment, Duke, Tristan, and Joey are forced to improvise.
Notes:

The plotbunny that started this was a single image, the image that opens the fic. That's. All. I swear. XD But it grew, as plotbunnies are wont to do, and then it sorta stopped being a plotbunny and became a pornbunny, and now you get seven full pages of porn. Enjoy?

Duke found Tristan leaning over the toaster, hands curved to catch its radiant warmth. He leaned against his back, stretching his arms to wrap a thick scarf around his lover's neck and shoulders. Once that was done, Duke looped his arms loosely around the brunet's waist and breathed slowly out, pressing his lips against the other's shoulderblade. “Sorry about the heat.”

Tristan scoffed. “Yeah, because you personally made sure the price of gas went through the roof this winter just to spite me.”

“I did,” Duke sighed, “Can you ever forgive me, Tristan?” The brunet abandoned the toaster, turning in the circle of Duke’s arms to face the slighter man. With his face modeled into a stern frown, Tristan crossed his arms and harrumphed loudly, making his opinion clear. Duke quirked an eyebrow at him, challenging. Tristan turned his head away, nose in the air. "Hmph."

“Aw, I dunno, Tris. He’s a really good fuck.” From the doorway, bright brown eyes and a shock of dark blond hair peeked out from under a fleece cap decorated with floppy golden retriever ears and big black buttons in the middle to represent eyes and a nose. Joey raised his chin and slipped his hands out of his sweatshirt pockets, then crossed the kitchen to take Duke’s ponytail in hand and gently tug backwards, creating enough space for Joey to insinuate his mouth and kiss Duke soundly. When he pulled away, it was with an obnoxiously smug smile and a lick, as a cat with cream.

Tristan harrumphed again. “Okay, now I’m really not gonna forgive you.” Duke laughed, then stretched up to nip Tristan’s jawline, which immediately appeased the brunet. “But seriously, Joey,” Tristan continued, turning to put one of Duke’s arms flat against his back. Duke dropped the other, opening the circle of conversation to include Joey. “What’s gotten into you? You’re never up this early an’ you’re never horny this early, either!”

Joey smirked. “How d’ja know the second one if’m never awake for ya t’test it?” Tristan acknowledged the point with a reluctant ‘hn,’ and Joey continued. “An' it’s so frickn’ cold I couldn’t feel my feet, and that woke me up.”

Duke tsked. “You’re exaggerating, Joey, don’t.”

“Only a little!” the blond defended himself, crossing to the coffeemaker for sustenance. Finding it empty, he pivoted on the balls of his feet to face the other two. Tristan, the picture of innocence, pointed at Duke quickly, and Duke smiled lazily, unrepentant. Joey growled.

“Joey, don’t kill him," Tristan offered, his near hand stretched toward the blond to pacify. "Weren’t you just sayin’ how good he is in the sack?”

The blond grumbled, sullenly yanking the fridge open and snagging a can of soda. “This better not be diet.”

Tristan was tempted to tell Joey to read the label, but refrained. Meanwhile, Duke was pragmatic as ever. “Drink that on an empty stomach, Joey, and you’ll be ill later, just like always. Especially if you move around a lot.”

Joey rolled his eyes, popping the can open. “Then y’can tend t’me and make me feel better, ‘cause it’s your fault I’m not gettin’ coffee.”

“Fine, fine.” Duke smiled, indulgently, and released Tristan. He crossed to Joey, lifting the soda from his hand and setting it on the counter. With the fingers of his other hand curled around the back of Joey’s neck, Duke took hold of Joey’s bicep and leaned in, kissing him. Joey pushed back, forcing Duke’s lips apart with his tongue, and brought one hand up to hold the back of Duke’s head firmly. Supple as the predator he often was compared to, Duke curled one leg around the back of Joey’s, locking their knees and pulling their groins together with force that hitched Joey’s breath. Duke smirked into the kiss, so Joey took it upon himself to kiss the smirk away.

Several minutes later, Duke caught sight of Tristan out of the corner of his eye. The brunet was leaning against the counter opposite the pair, hand in his sweatpants. His hooded bedroom gaze was nevertheless bright and focused patiently on Duke and Joey, and he quirked a smile when Duke turned his head to regard him carefully.

“Keep goin’, I can watch,” he said.

Duke licked his lips, returned his attention to the man he was currently wrapped around, and pulsed the thigh hooked around Joey’s, grinding against the blond in a flowing motion that left both men a lot less steady on their feet. “I think there would be even more to watch, were we more choosy about our location,” he purred. Joey leaned in to nip at his earlobe, then extricated himself, with difficulty, from Duke’s limbs.

“Last one t’the bedroom’s on the bottom,” he teased, sauntering away with an excess of hip-swiveling. Tristan laughed and followed; bringing up the rear, Duke ran a palm over his eyes. “How old are you again, Joseph?”

“Younger ‘n you and still gonna nail ya!” came his rowdy answer, called out from the other end of the apartment. Tristan, down the hall at the doorway of their bedroom, looked down the length of the hall to find Duke’s eyes, shrugged in sympathy and amusement, then followed Joey in.

In the bedroom, Joey had already finished shucking his sweatpants and hoodie. They lay discarded on the floor to the side of the threesome’s king bed; Joey was sprawled on his back, knees bent and spread, in the middle of its plush black comforter. Tristan was shirtless in sweatpants, tugging off a sock and balancing on one foot to do it. Duke stopped walking at the foot of the wide bed, looking straight ahead at Joey’s dick. “Wanton,” he commented casually, and yanked the drawstring of his pants open.

Joey laughed. “I thought that was one'v my better points.”

Duke's inevitable retort was cut off by Tristan's yelp as he clambered onto the bed to Joey's right, burrowing under the covers and leaving his sweatpants in a tangled pile behind him. Joey's weight across the middle third of the bed tied up most of the quilt but, with two strong handfuls of fabric lifted from just under Joey's right shoulder, Tristan yanked free enough blanket to swathe himself completely. "How are you not freezing, Joey, it's fricking twenty degrees in here, you are insane. And tiny," Tristan added, impish, peeking over the blanket's edge at Joey's cock, limp and small in the chilly air of their bedroom. Then he ducked, stretching the quilt over his head like a shield. Only the point of his hair was left visible. Joey hit him anyway, with a lazy backhand that thumped softly onto his forehead.

"Jackass. I'm showin' off, and y'can't do that under blankets," Joey explained pedantically, watching Duke prowling over the end of the bed toward him on all fours.

The man was impossibly thin, and as lanky as Tristan was tall; watching him move, especially while nude, was akin to observing an alley tomcat, honed by necessity and strength down to the bare essentials of bone, muscle, and taut skin. He had let his hair down from its ponytail, a special treat even after the trio's long history together. Joey's skin, pale as it was, looked positively robust next to the stark black of their comforter; in contrast, the skin of Duke's neck and shoulders seemed parchment-white where locks of his hair split and revealed it in slices. Joey found himself wanting to push it all up off Duke's shoulders, spread it over a white pillow above his head, and mark every inch of skin covered or touched by it, drawing dark hickeys to the surface like tattoos.

Joey's observation of his proud lover was interrupted by Tristan, tugging insistently on Joey's elbow. "Y'showed off, good job and all, now get under here already," he complained.

"You just want me t'stop pinnin' the covers down," Joey snickered, and as Duke folded back the quilt on the left side of the bed, slipping underneath, Joey sat up, tucked his knees up to his chin to get his weight off the blankets, and then dove under, headfirst. Tristan laughed and Duke scoffed, at least until the moving hump that indicated Joey's head stopped moving in front of Duke's hips. Then he froze, and the unpredictability of the act – the pure fact that it was such a Joey thing to do – somehow made it erotic, made Duke clip his breath in anticipation. Duke looked across the pillows and over Joey's legs to Tristan, whose smile and dark eyes provided him distraction. Joey's hand, warm despite the room's chill, came to rest high on his inner thigh, and Duke could not stop his shiver, nor the tightening of muscle in his stomach and the backs of his thighs that almost rocked his hips forward.

For his part, Tristan still wasn't warm enough, not by a long shot; the covers were cold and his lovers too far across the bed. He scooted across the mattress toward Duke, running into Joey's knees and thighs before he reached the thin man. Tristan curled his upper body across the backs of Joey's legs, pinning him down, and slipped one hand under the covers to squeeze the blond's ass, feeling the wide muscles of Joey's thighs flex in immediate response, his hips rolling slightly. With his other arm braced on the pillows, Tristan leaned forward to softly claim Duke's mouth as his own. He smiled against the other's lips when Joey purred and fell abruptly silent, and Duke gasped, parting thin lips before attacking Tristan's mouth more aggressively. Acknowledging Joey's contribution with another squeeze, Tristan hooked fingers around Duke's elbow, braced similarly to his own, and tugged lightly, begging him closer.

Closer was a good word to describe everything Duke needed at that moment. Still far from the edge of orgasm, he was nevertheless the closest of the three, as Joey's mouth on his dick brought him from mostly hard to achingly so. Reaching blindly for Tristan's forearm without breaking the kiss, Duke gripped the brunet's broad shoulder and levered himself closer, tantalized by Joey 's mop of hair brushing against his groin as all three of them readjusted to bring their bodies closer together. When they were all settled again, Joey was laying on his stomach, propped up on an elbow with his other arm hooked around Duke's hips, fingers tracing the curve of his ass. He took Duke back into his mouth without comment, and his silence, completely out of character for the blond (especially in bed), was followed by assiduous licks and the application of audible suction. Duke cursed out loud, both hands flying to the mattress to brace himself as he rolled onto his back and let his head fall back, eyes tight shut.

Tristan found himself needing to follow Duke across Joey's legs once more, studying hungrily the spray of long black hair against their white sheets even as he voiced completely superficial annoyance with the situation at hand.

"Seriously, Duke, stop runnin' away from me," Tristan complained, lowering his mouth down to meet that of his shaking, temporarily inarticulate lover. "I might just find better things to kiss than you if you keep it up." Joey pulled his mouth off Duke's cock – Tristan knew because of the completely unnecessary, completely intentional, slurp and pop accompanying the action - to snicker, raising his hips from the mattress and wiggling his ass under the blankets.

"Uh huh, you bastard, get back to work," Tristan ordered, and silently slipped his pinky into his own mouth briefly, slicking it as well as he could with saliva alone. "Watch out," Tristan whispered to Duke, tonguing the roof of his mouth, and then traced his index finger down the cleft of Joey's ass, giving scant warning before pushing the wet tip of his pinky finger into his hole.

Joey's jaw locked as he hissed in shock, a ripple of tension sweeping through his body to freeze every muscle in place. It was fortunate for Duke that the blond had his lips wrapped carefully across his teeth to shield them, making the sudden increase in pressure right behind the head of his cock maddening instead of painful. His restraint snapped, hips popping off the mattress to drive his length deep down Joey's throat, and only the blond's practiced fondness for sucking off both his lovers kept him from choking as Duke turned his rather leisurely blowjob into a desperate, indulgent face-fucking.

Sweat gathered, finally, at the small of Joey's back as he squirmed against Tristan's finger in his ass. His concentration was completely centered on breathing through his nose in the still, stale air beneath the heavy comforter, and on keeping his throat open as Duke fucked his mouth. Joey couldn't orchestrate the rest of his body to make the taunting, distracting pressure in his hole into something more pleasurable. He writhed, one knee slipping on the pillows, and whined in frustration. Duke, who had somehow forgotten that Tristan was still sneaking kisses in-between Duke's labored breaths, nearly bit Tristan's tongue off when Joey's voice, traveling up his dick in quick vibrations, blanked his mind of anything external to the blond's mouth and throat and jerked him into orgasm.

Duke lay limp and boneless on the mattress, arms sprawled to his sides and covered to the neck with thick layers of quilt and blankets. He was breathing heavily, and his eyelids were still pressed tightly shut as though he were in pain, or concentrating very hard. Tristan, who had pulled his head back to watch Duke's face as he came, began to reach across the space between them, intending to sweep the mess of damp, tangled black hair back from his lover's face and neck. He reconsidered, pulling his arm back, when Joey rolled over and tucked his legs under the covers, toward his stomach. Tristan thought at first that Joey intended to roll right over and blow him next, but Joey's fussing soon resolved as he pushed the wild mess of his hair out from under the covers, turning to face Duke. The blond laid still for a few moments, studying Duke's expression, as a triumphant surge of accomplishment made his headache and sore jaw completely worthwhile. He raised a weak hand to push Duke's bangs out of his eyes, tracing his eyebrows. Duke's expression softened slightly at that; satisfied with his condition, Joey rolled over to face his other lover.

Joey smiled at Tristan, thin-lipped, and tapped his mouth against Tristan's cheekbone. The smell of Duke's come was thick on his breath, ghosting out his nostrils as he breathed through his nose alone, and Tristan suddenly wished he was the one with a mouthful of Duke. He turned his head, catching Joey's mouth, and licked across the blond's lips thoroughly, cleaning them of every sticky drop. The bitter taste barely registered in his mind, and he pushed at the corner of Joey's mouth with the point of his tongue. From brown eyes to hazel the communication flew and Joey relaxed the corners of his mouth, from which come immediately began to leak. Tristan smiled – for all he was a skinny bastard, Duke had a damn huge load – and pursed his lips to suck at the corner of Joey's mouth, taking his share. This was their right, as equally shared between the three as the position of top, and the point wasn't the taste so much as the possessive nature of the act.

After a moment, Joey pulled his mouth from Tristan's and pushed himself to a sitting position, shivering as soon as his chest hit the air. He leaned far over Tristan's waist, dangling his arms over the edge of the bed to find his discarded sweatpants, into which he spit the small remainder of his mouthful of come. Resisting the urge to wipe off his swollen lips, Joey pushed himself back onto the bed, aided by Tristan's supporting hands around his waist, and flopped onto the mattress between his lovers, pulling the sheets close up against his chin. "Don't get upset I spit, Duke; I already swallowed half of it! And Tris got his share, too," he added, assuming correctly that Duke hadn't opened his eyes to see his lovers sharing their claim on him.

The corner of Duke's mouth curled upward in a smirk, and he rolled his head to face Joey; though his eyes remained closed, their lids smoothed, relaxing his whole expression. "Messy eaters," he scolded, forming the words slowly and sleepily, "Come here."

With no more encouragement, Joey did, slipping his tongue smoothly into Duke's mouth to let him, as he wanted to, taste himself. They kissed softly, tapping their lips together over and over, many small kisses strung together. Duke swept his tongue across the roof of Joey's mouth, then pulled back with a wry expression, bright green eyes flickering open to study Joey's rich brown ones. "You must have eaten something bitter, Joey," he remarked. "There's no way that I could be so distasteful." Their next kiss was especially soft, an apology of sorts from Duke, which Joey dismissed with the force of his lips.

Meanwhile, Tristan had snugged his body up behind Joey's, tucking the blankets tight behind them, and begun combing through Joey's hair gently with one hand, revealing patches of the nape of his neck and kissing each as it was revealed. With his other forearm laid heavy across Joey's waist, Tristan traced soft patterns on Duke's side, right above the hipbone. "S'okay, Duke. You're a damn bitter pill, but you don't see us complaining. Not like we aren't, ourselves." Duke sighed and Joey purred, and Tristan smiled even though neither of them could see it.

Tristan had been hard almost since they entered the bedroom, and still was despite the lack of attention paid him. But despite retaining his ability to get it up as fast as he did at sixteen, Tristan had with age gained the gift of incredible patience. He was a fierce lover, as equally capable of being unbelievably gentle as of violent, the latter of which most often came into play in the encounters when Joey and he would attempt to break hotel beds. But no matter his position or speed for the night, Tristan had gotten pegged as the trio's clean-up hitter because of his patience. The other two always made sure to save strength for him, of course, since the flipside to spending all his self-restraint in waiting meant that once Tristan was done waiting, very little could slow him down.

Clinging tightly against Joey's back, Tristan rocked his hips forward, the heat of his erection sliding into the cleft of Joey's ass. The blond stiffened, hissing into Duke's mouth, and Duke slid closer in response, pliantly curving to match every slide of Joey's body against his. That was what kept Tristan patient, watching the other two make each other blissfully dumb, blind with lust and twitching with the need to release it, and afterward, always remembering themselves and turning back to him. Tristan rocked against Joey again, his right hand folding up to grip Joey's shoulder. With his fingertips hooked over the blond's collarbone, elbow curled across his bicep, and knee intertwined with the other's, Tristan used his leverage to pull himself up Joey's body, arching his back and tucking his stomach in as he ground against his lover. Joey moaned in response, bumping the top of his head against Tristan's nose as he bared his throat to Duke, who latched his mouth over Joey's jugular and sucked.

"Fuck," Joey panted out, "Fuck, Tristan, your aim sucks." Duke snickered at that, then drifted to the other side of Joey's collarbone, where he bit down, obscuring whatever Joey was about to say next with another moan. Joey's hands lashed out, one scrabbling for Tristan's, one finding the side of Duke's head and clamping down, locking his mouth against Joey's collarbone. Duke narrowed the tip of his tongue to a hard point, then began lapping at the dip of the blond's throat, working his way up the column of his neck as, with a whimper, Joey's hands fell slack once more.

His fingers still interlaced with Joey's, Tristan guided their hands into the narrow gap between Duke's and Joey's chests, finding one of Joey's nipples to tease. Brushing his fingertips across it in rhythm with his thrusts, he slowly guided Joey's hand to do the same, till Tristan could pull his hand away, gripping tight to Duke's shoulder, and the blond trembled under his own touch. The power of Tristan's next thrust rocked Joey forward; Joey rocked into Duke, and Duke pulled back from Joey's mouth with a curse, breaking the trance for all three of them. Tristan looked askance at him over Joey's shoulder, and Joey snuggled himself backwards, twisting against Tristan's stomach and groin. Duke raised a hand to his lips gingerly.

"You're going to make me chip a tooth if you keep that up, Tristan," he complained, arching his back in the semblance of a stretch. Joey rolled his head over to face Tristan, who was rocking his hips against Joey's ass in tiny arcs, trying to be patient.

"H've we fooled 'round enough?" he asked, sugarcoating his voice as much as he could given that it had already been roughened by lust and Duke's cock.

Tristan's eyes smiled; his mouth leered. "Flip over," he commanded, and Joey willingly crawled to all fours, dragging a confused Duke to lay on his back beneath the cage of Joey's limbs. Tristan crawled to the edge of the bed, poking around in the nightstand drawer for supplies, and Joey took the opportunity to make himself comfortable, pulling the covers high over his shoulders.

"Tristan will push those off of you as soon as he's ready, you know," Duke observed blandly.

Joey nodded and bent to kiss Duke slowly. When he pulled back, Duke lifted his head from the pillow to follow Joey's mouth. "And offa you. So we gotta stay warm now."

"Alright, Joey," Duke said, fighting an indulgent smile. "Why do I have to be under you, again? Can't I be on the side, and touch Tristan everywhere, driving him crazy while he tries to be the terribly collected lover we both know he isn't?" He smirked, tilting his head to find Tristan's gaze, and winked.

Tristan rolled his eyes. "Imp. But you were the last one to the bedroom, yanno." Smirking, Joey nodded his agreement. Duke sighed dramatically, shuffled around until he was well-settled against the mattress, and took Joey's cock in hand, startling the blond enough that one of his elbows buckled. Steadying himself, Joey glared down at Duke and bared his teeth; Duke simply tilted his head to bare the side of his neck, holding Joey's gaze through half-lidded eyes, and palmed Joey till his hard prick was weeping.

"Tristan," Joey commented lazily, curling the small of his back and sliding into the snug ring of Duke's palm, "When y'come, make sure ya help me squish this guy reaaaal flat." Duke tugged; Joey cursed.

Tristan laughed, hobbling on his knees back to the pair, and yanked the covers off of them both, leaving Duke's lower legs still buried in a tangle of the fabric and making Joey whine at the chill. He knelt behind Joey, stroking the blond's spine gently with his knuckles before unfolding his fingers, covered in lube, and quickly penetrating him. "I don't intend to have any room for plotting left in my brain or yours, once we're done." Tristan curled himself over his lover's back, skin to skin, lending warmth to Joey as he prepared him.

Joey couldn't argue. Arched forward, stretching out his neck and stomach, he tensed around Tristan's fingers, squeezing and relaxing in spasms. It drove him mad, the tease of penetration without enough girth; human warmth and motion without nearly enough depth. Joey pushed backward onto Tristan's hand, hard, with a groan, allowing his head to drop as he heaved breath. "Hurry the fuck up, do it now, I don't care, Tristan come on," he babbled.

Below him, Duke's face was swept with the long hair of Joey's bangs, and he lifted a hand to push them away from his eyes so he could watch the blond's face flush and his mouth move incoherently, even without sound. Duke brushed Joey's bangs behind the blond's ear and held them there, cradling the side of his head with his palm. As Joey rocked backward onto Tristan's hand, canting his body into the motion, his chest stroked against Duke's, and the dark-haired man immediately wrapped his arms around Joey's shoulders to hold him in place. Their heads lay nestled side by side, Duke's turned to lay kisses at the joint of Joey's shoulder and neck, and Joey breathed puffs of hot air and obscenities as Tristan did his work.

Finally, he heard his warning in Tristan's breathy "Alright" just before the brunet took a deep breath, braced himself, and slid his careful self into Joey fast, hard, and deep enough that it momentarily stole the sight from them both. He panted, one big hand curled around the bottom of Joey's ribcage, and waited for the blond to get his hands well-braced on the mattress above Duke's shoulders. With his free hand, Tristan brushed hair off the nape of Joey's neck; he bent to lay kisses on the sharp edges of his shoulderblades.

Duke watched Joey's features, and hovering over the blond's shoulder, Tristan's, torque with the ever-present mixed cocktail of pain and pleasure. When you rush it as much as they just did, though, he reflected, it's like taking a shot instead of a sip. It faded, as it always did, and Duke caressed their arms softly while all three of them waited. Then Tristan began to move them. They began slowly, smooth slides back and forth like a pendulum sweeping over Duke, flat on his back and holding Joey's eyes as much as the blond could manage. When Tristan sped up, thighs slapping flat against the backs of Joey's on forward strokes, Joey closed his eyes and stretched his throat out flat, like a pointer dog scenting paradise in the headboard. Duke arched off the bed beneath him, trapping his cock tightly under the slide and grind of Joey's weight and heat against his own. When his calves ached for relief and Tristan began to slam into Joey, eliciting moans on every downstroke, Duke collapsed to the bed and caught Joey's prick in his hand, slicking it with its own pearl. With his other hand Duke took himself in hand, beginning a rhythm to match Tristan's. Above them both, the brunet moved like a set of muscled pistons, unwaveringly intense. His fingertips low on Joey's waist pressed little white half-moons into his skin; his palms were clammy with sweat and heat against the skin of Joey's hips.

With heavy breath, Tristan gave power to all three of them as they moved, feeling a burn of exhaustion growing in his hamstrings as the hot, tight preparation for orgasm crept through him. He tracked one hand up Joey's back to his hair, running his hand through it backwards, then pushing his hand forward to cup Joey's jaw. As Tristan tipped forward across his back, Joey sucked two of the brunet's fingers into his mouth, laving them with soft tongue. Watching them, Duke jerked hard against Joey, his fingers curling tight around the base of the blond's prick, and came for the second time, moaning and twisting like a wanton. Tristan groaned, eyes tight shut, ears assaulted, body blissed, and found himself less coming than being brought, tugged over the edge of orgasm by his lovers' heat and noise. Slumped across Joey, supporting himself with one weak arm, Tristan rode out his orgasm with short, choppy breaths. Joey tensed all over, feeling Tristan shuddering hot within him, and sucked hard on Tristan's fingers, still tucked between his lips like a pacifier, to muffle his exclamation when he came. In a slow-motion sprawl, Joey collapsed to the mattress, allowing his right arm and leg to buckle first. He landed to Duke's left, bonelessly, and promptly curled his head onto the other's shoulder as Tristan lowered himself weakly to lay across Duke's chest. All six of their legs were tangled; all three of their hearts pounded like racetrack thunder.

The trio found themselves unable to move for long minutes, dizzy aftershocks shivering through one body and into the others. When the cold air of their bedroom finally began to encroach upon their utterly satisfied comfort, Tristan rolled onto his back, stretching his arm to its limit to reach the box of tissues on the bedside table. They cleaned up carefully, both Tristan and Duke tending Joey (who, they laughed, truly was the cream of their private Oreo), before tossing both the box and the used tissues to the floor and eagerly swathing themselves in blankets. The witty repartee they normally found at the tips of their tongues was absent; exhausted, sated, and warm, they slept. When they woke hours later, still inconceivably tangled together, it was for a brief shower and snack before they returned to bed, sleeping away the day and its cold.

fin
***

OMAKE:

The doorknob slammed against their bedroom wall, waking Duke instantly. He was loath to shake either Joey or Tristan awake, but the voice of their intruder did it for him.

"Again. How many times must I entreat you to call me when you do something like this? If I were a man of less sense or more weakness I would begin to become offended by your neglect – all three of your neglect – of my most simple request!" Arms crossed over his sharp blue tie, eyes crinkled in concern and anger, the man stood commandingly at the foot of the bed and somehow glared into all six guilty eyes simultaneously.

Joey was the first to find his voice. "You can pick what t'do for the second round if ya want, Seto...?"

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