Yuri Petrov never expected to enjoy the sight of the man he wanted in his own bed fucking someone else.
As it happened, he is enjoying it – very much so, in fact. They weren't even fucking yet, actually, but the sounds Brooks is making are positively sinful – high, breathy whines, throaty groans and muffled little hiccups that might as well be mewls as Kotetsu bit his way down the man's throat, sucked on his bobbing adam's apple, dug his hands into lean hips and dragged him closer, closer.
They're naked, kissing and touching in front of him, and Yuri sits primly in a chair, unable to stop the heel of his palm grinding between his legs against his cock. He's hard – harder than he can ever remember being, and it's just getting worse, imagining Barnaby taking Kotetsu's cock, riding it before Kotetsu gets sick of that and rolls him over to pound him into the mattress.
He nearly whimpers himself. Imagine that – Judge Petrov, whimpering.
"Brooks. Come here."
It takes the blond a second to register that, but Kotetsu helps him follow Yuri's command – pushes him forward, down to his knees in front of him. He's annoyed, no doubt, that his time with Kotetsu was interrupted, but Yuri doesn't care. It's with shaky fingers that he pulls his own erection out, pale fingers sliding from root to tip, and Barnaby glowers at him, no matter the look on his face that says that he does so enjoy sucking cock.
And he's good at it. Yuri knows from the first lick – not that he's ever had many people to suck him off, but Brooks is good. The way he curls his fingers around him, strokes him, guides him deeper into his mouth and swallows, panting as he pulls back with hollowed cheeks and doesn't protest beyond a low growl in the back of his throat when Yuri fists a hand into his curls and drags him down again.
Kotetsu doesn't wait for directions – doesn't want it, doesn't need it. Yuri watches him through lidded eyes as he opens a bottle of lube, slicking his fingers and dragging them down the cleft of Barnaby's ass. The blond jerks back from Yuri's cock, then, shuddering – gasping as those thick fingers push into him, wriggling, stretching, curling just right that Yuri can see Barnaby's toes curl in kind, can see his thigh tremble and for a moment, his head bows, cheek pressed to the judge's thigh as he just moans.
Yuri refuses to let him off that easy, because he's jealous, because damn it, he wants a part of this, too.
His hands wrap up into mussed curls again, forcing Barnaby's head up, the head of his cock pressing against bruised lips. Barnaby can't even glare at him any more – his eyes are hooded behind his glasses, and Yuri finds he actually likes the effect of them, likes the idea of coming all over those perfect lenses. He shoves himself down Barnaby's throat again, liking the way he definitely gags this time, the way he chokes for a moment, hot huffs of breath escaping through his nose as he struggles to draw back, glasses fogging, eyes tearing.
He seems to forget about gagging and swallows hard around him when Kotetsu's behind him, the hard, thick length of his cock grinding against his ass. Barnaby would have moaned if his mouth wasn't so sufficiently stuffed with Yuri's cock, and so he just bucks back instead, begging with his body when all he can do otherwise is leg his tongue wriggle against Yuri, releasing his cock only when Yuri lets him, all to hear the slick pop of it passing his lips before he shoves himself in again.
Barnaby's eyes roll into the back of his head as Kotetsu slides into him – slick and hot and hard and Yuri groans on his behalf, imagining that same cock filling him, stretching him and fucking him, spreading him wide until he's trembling and aching. He doubts he can take cock quite as well as this little blond thing can, but he doesn't care. He'd still try, he'd still work himself on it until he hurt, until he ached and trembled and until Kotetsu had to grab him by the hips and move him, shoving him up and down on it as he begged and pleaded and cried –
Yuri pulls out, wrenching Barnaby's head back as he strokes himself only once, twice more before coming over the blond's face. Yes, yes he does like the way he smears and splatters over those glasses, the way it drips down his cheeks and onto his lips, the way Brooks can't help but flick his tongue out and lick it up as he pants and moans and arches his back to encourage Kotetsu to fuck him harder.
He watches as Kotetsu does just that – shoves Barnaby down with a hand between his shoulder blades now that he's not sucking cock and fucks him like that, grunting with each deep thrust that makes the younger man gasp and shudder. Barnaby isn't particularly loud when he comes, but it's a sight to watch him – eyes dilated, lips parted as he groans, body trembling and back arching as he rolls his hips back into each of Kotetsu's thrusts, aching, wanting, needing even as he spills himself onto the floor.
Yuri watches, entirely rapt, as Kotetsu pulls out, strokes himself and with a ragged growl, spills himself over Barnaby's ass, his thighs, marking him as if to make sure even Yuri knows that Barnaby is Kotetsu's, only Kotetsu's. Fuck, fuck he wishes that man would do the same to him, but he says nothing, merely watches, flushed and as out of breath as the other two are.
It's a pity, really, when he wakes up and realizes this never happened.
God, he's getting tired of these dreams.