Just posting here for giggles, it's already up on tumblr and written for a friend. Because there needs to be more Richard/Jim/Seb, even if the idea is insane in itself. Written on no sleep and caffeine.

Warnings: Incest, Sex


Richard is rarely aware of what his brother, his twin and reflection in a cold looking glass, is thinking. He would nod obediently, stretch and bend his will, his body, anything for Jim. Richard is not entirely himself without the elder, because Jim was both of them, and the meeker twin is alright with that. He provided for him, protected him, cared for him.

And he lets him play with his toys.

As dry lips skim over the skin of his neck just so lightly, that tiny individual voice that is often too muffled by the ballad of Jim's dominance suggests that maybe Richard is the toy being shared.

And that is alright. They are both toys in the end, Moran and him.

Sebastian, the stronger play thing that's far more useful that Richard will ever be—and part of him is a bit jealous of the blonde, for the level of equal violence, the shared devotion, and mutual sense of placement that's higher than what Jim had deemed him to be; Richard is a pawn, and Sebastian is his knight. He is a kind knight, though. He lets Richard press his face into his arm, the sheets strewn off the bed from when the other occupant had left without a warning and only two remain. And Sebastian will then nuzzle against his neck as they stretch lazily, and he can't help but moan as the traces of stubble ignite pleasure zones on his neck and shoulders that he hadn't been aware of.

Jim is thorough in their fits of passion, but he doesn't know every inch, every aching nerve that Sebastian manages to discover. Despite that, it's never quite right without Jim, and they both know that.

Together, Jim and Moran are a dangerous pair; not just for the untouchable godspeed, not for the jilting explosions and gunpowder and plots, but they compliment each other in a way that even a twin never could. They separate the grey blur of Richard into Jim, and sometimes Richard prefers to watch the way that Jim overpowers the blonde man, slamming his head into walls by his hair with heavy thuds. It reminds him that his brother is still an infallible force in his life, superior to him and their shared lover because at least that way there's a distinction. As long as Jim towers above him, they're not blending, and Richard would rather have a semblance of himself that way.

Whenever Jim fucks him, Richard starts to lose himself. He whimpers, voice caught in some constriction that only allows gasps until Jim hisses at him to say his name. At that point he screams, not just because his brother's nails are drawing bubbles of bloods from his hips as he slides back out, but because he was ordered to, and he'll sing out Jim's name like a pretty little song bird as long as that rhythmic pounding continues into a hard mattress.

And sometime in between the beginning and the end, there's a second pair of calloused hands resonating back and forth from similar bodies—never quite the same now that they both have scars; Jim would carve into Richard, cooing that they'll match again, but Jim always collects them too quickly to keep up.

He hears Jim making emphasized moans, eliciting out a warm pool in the younger's stomach as it collides with the dirty sheets again. He can't see Sebastian, but he doesn't need to, because he can feel practiced digits wrapping around his cock, and Jim shifts slightly so that Richard is bent over the side of the bed uncomfortably and Sebastian is able to fit onto the queen sized mattress.

It gets harder to breathe, and not just because there are now hands wrapped around his cock, and a smaller pair around his neck, or not even the way that he is thrown onto his back–though by now it shouldn't take him by surprise. His head lands back against the mattress, and there's a coil in his stomach, disappointment followed by an acidic sense of nausea because he's jealous that there wasn't a crack of bone on plaster or wood.

There is, though, and it comes several moments later accompanied by a growl that sounds like it is drawn out from an animal, no, a beast. Richard's head is still spinning as the oxygen begins to return to his blood, and by the time he looks over, Jim is on Sebastian's hips, eyes feral as his head falls back, and in the process directs an inviting grin towards his brother. His head is still light, and he wobbles to get onto his knees, but Jim lifts one hand to yank him over roughly, slamming his lips against biting teeth. It's sloppy, hard to remain consistent as Jim bounces and lets moans part through bleeding lips.

Jim moves down to his neck, gripping his forearms to steady him, lips sucking at the bruised skin in the juncture of his neck and shoulder, teeth scraping until there's blood trickling down his collar and being smeared into a wet, sticky splotch of bright scarlet. His voice repeats his ownership-'mineminemine'- like a mantra, and Richard answers back in a prayer of Jim's name. He hears Sebastian swear, choking out a moan and Jim twists on his cock, angling his hips to slam down with his legs parted unabashed.

Without a question, Jim comes first, with a gorgeous howl—Sebastian–that resounds against the wall with a low hum, voice falling into a flawless decrescendo like the curtains would fall the moment he returns from that unreachable high. It crackles back down into a smooth chuckle, hips rolling to the beats of Sebastian's raising breath, his name being uttered and spilling out in gruff, rumbling syllables. As if in an afterthought, Jim jerks the previously admiring Richard over, and bends—fuck, how is Jim even flexible enough to do this, Richard wonders briefly—and latches his lips onto the head of his cock, and while still riding the blonde, steadying himself with palms splayed on his thighs and fingers curling, digging in with little red crescents blooming on the flesh under his nails.

A rush of moments later, moans mingling with hot pants and the slapping of slick skin, it would be over, and Jim slides off the both of them with a sly grin and snake like eyes, as if he was proud of the mess of marked limbs and spent hums he had created. Languidly, he curls his body around his brother's, whose eyes are still glazed over with the clouds and stars that fall back to earth when he feels arms snaking around his waist, and Sebastian's hand resting on his hip. It smells like sex, cigarettes, and faintly of expensive cologne, and Richard's eyes slip shut with the comfort of his other half and the corresponding half to Jim around him.