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Anselm X Reader X Nathan- One Weekend (part 1)

anselm x reader x nathan- One Weekend (part 1)

If Anselm and Birdie have a canon, then Nathan isn’t really in it like this. But it's too fun not to think about.

Contents: 18+ nsfw, past mm relationship, objectification/degradation, mfm threesome (vaginal, anal, oral) ~10k

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A sunny afternoon. Anselm and his crew are sitting in his office enjoying an afternoon snack. Hot fudge sundaes that they eat with great relish, nodding to each other about how delicious they are.

Anselm scoops a huge bite of vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce onto his spoon.

“Stop lurking in the doorway like the creature you were named after, Godzilla. Speak,” he yells toward the other end of the room and takes his perfect bite of sundae.

Godzilla clears his throat and steps forward into the room, the space full of the sounds of metal spoons against glass dishes.

“Sir, Mrs. Vogelweide would like to see you in her office upstairs,” he says with a slight bow.

Anselm looks at him from under his dark brows. “Mrs. Vogelweide is it?” He licks his lips. “My God, this might be the best ice cream sundae I’ve ever eaten. Take one up to Birdie after you clean up, will you, Andre?”

He sets his empty bowl on Andre’s tray and the robot motors around the room, collecting everyone else’s dishes.

“She’d like to see you in an official capacity, sir,” Godzilla says.

Anselm sits up straight and buttons his suit jacket. “Well, why the fuck didn’t you say so in the first place?”

His bodyguards stand up stiffly and Anselm waves them back down.

He leans forward, a menacing look on his face. “Where do you think you’re going? Do you think I need protection from my own wife, in our own home? Hmm? What are you imbeciles going to do? What was your big plan?”

They look at each other, clearly having no plans and no actual thoughts beyond trying to get a second round of ice cream sundaes.

Anselm pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers, trying to calm himself. He limps over to the mirror and smooths his hair, makes sure his tie is straight and his beard is neat.

He takes the elevator to the second floor and lets Godzilla announce him, only entering when you’ve given the okay.

You smile, sphinx-like, from behind your desk. “Anselm,” you say.

He walks forward through the long room, noticing that his brace is very loud in the absence of the music you usually play.

“You wore that low-cut blouse just to tease me. I approve,” he says, as charming as the day you’d met him.

You don’t stand. You only hold out your hand and he kisses the back with more relish than he’d given the sundae a few minutes ago.

“Anselm, Anselm, Anselm,” you say slowly, looking him up and down.

He looks at his suit, making sure nothing’s amiss. “Shall I sit?”

“No, I just want to look at you. Really take this moment in.” Your smile doesn't change.

He puts his hands in his pockets, a little confused. He stands so you can look as much as you want.

After a long moment, you tap the closed ledger on your desk.

“You’re a really talented gambler, Anselm. You know that? You could have made your fortune placing bets alone,” you say.

He nods slowly. “Would you like me to place one for you, my love?”

You shake your head. “I called you here to talk about an old bet. Through one of the family bookies. A regional high-school Croatian water polo match a few months ago. The semi-finals I think.”

Anselm scratches his beard. “Yes, I remember it.”

You drum your fingers on the desk. “You lost.”

Anselm frowns deeply. “I beg your pardon, my dear, but I did not.”

You make a humming sound in your throat. “You might not be familiar with the cut throat nature of Croatian junior water polo, but the results of the match were contested almost immediately.”

“Yes, but it came out in my favor,” Anselm says with a grin.

“That one did, yes. But not the second arbitration.”

The grin slides off of his face. “Second arbitration?”

“Filed and decided last week. The victory was given to the opposing side.” You fold your hands on the desk. Your smile is so wide it almost hurts your face. “Which means you, Anselm Vogelweide, owe me money.”

His lips part in surprise, a very confused look on his handsome face. He’s literally at a loss for words. To your great delight.

The doors to your office open and in rolls Andre with a silver tray and a perfect hot fudge sundae on top.

Anselm watches it be delivered to you. Watches you take the sundae with a pat on the robot’s head. Watches you slip off your shoes and put your feet up on your desk and dig into your ice cream.

“So, Anselm,” you say around a mouthful of whipped cream, “what would you do in my position?”

He heaves out a breath. “My God, Birdie, I’d shoot me.”

You cough loudly, sundae stuck in your throat. Anselm rushes forward to hand you a glass of water from the side of your desk. “Not shooting you,” you say.

Anselm walks around the desk to pat your back as you get your breath back. You set the rest of the ice cream back on Andre’s tray and you sit upright in your chair.

“I thought you’d acquired a taste for settling disputes my way,” Anselm says with a grin.

“Not with you,” you say. “Then again, my mentor in all of this crime stuff taught me to take debts very, very seriously.”

You look pointedly at him.

Once, Anselm had received a debt payment of a million dollars in cash. He’d had the man bring it to the estate from all the way from across the country.

When the guy arrived, Anselm had asked about the ten dollars of interest. The guy hadn’t had it. Didn’t have any more cash on him.

“Come on boss, you wouldn’t shoot someone over a lousy tenner, would you?” The guy had asked nervously.

“No, of course not.”

And Anselm had allowed the man to borrow a ten dollar bill from one of the bodyguards. He’d given it to Anselm and gone on his merry way.

Oh wait, no. That’s not how that story ends. Anselm had let the guy borrow a stick of gum from one of the bodyguards and then shot him dead before he’d even gotten the wrapper off.

A debt is a debt. The number is irrelevant. At least, that’s what he’d taught you.

Anselm half-sits on the top of the desk, close to you. “Quite a conundrum, my dear. And one for me as well. I’ve never owed a debt in my life.”

“That’s just bragging,” you say.

“Well, shall I have the money that I owe you wired or would you prefer cash?” He asks, business-like. “It would have to be next week. There are two bank holidays that would interfere with the transfer.”

You take a breath, a moment to think it over. You run your foot up and down the calf of his unbraced leg.

“It’s almost two million dollars,” you say, glancing up at him. “You wouldn’t let someone walk out of your office without repaying that kind of dough, right? And if you can’t repay me today, then I’m afraid we might have to make alternative arrangements.”

You see Anselm’s gaze sharpen, his pupils widen ever so slightly.

He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing over the collar of his shirt. “Such a thing would put me completely at your mercy,” Anselm says quietly, with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“But if it’s the only way to pay off your debt, you don’t really have much of a choice. Right?” You lick your lips slowly.

“I accept your proposition.” Anselm unbuttons his suit jacket so you can see from the bulging length in his pants just how accepting he is.

“Andre,” you say to the robot, taking the rest of your sundae back off his tray, “you can leave. Tell guards outside we’re not to be disturbed.”

“Yes, Birdie, man.” His pixel-smile blinks at you as he backs out of the room.

You hand Anselm the sundae.

“Did the robot just call you a man?” He asks.

“I think it’s supposed to be ma’am, but at this point, I don’t ask questions. Where did you even get Andre?”

Anselm scoops some of the ice cream out, fashioning an acceptable bite, and holds it up to your lips for you to eat.

“I invest heavily in emerging technologies,” he says, using the pad of his thumb to catch a stray drop of hot fudge from your chin. He licks it off. “Andre was a gift from one of the owners. He’s offered many times to replace it with a newer model, but they’re all too human for my taste. A robot should look like a robot, I think. Or we’ll all become very confused, very quickly.”

Anselm sits against your desk, feeding you perfect bites of sundae as you work on your laptop for awhile.

He walks around the room, making sure things are tidy, closing the blinds so the sun doesn’t hit the artwork. He glances at you, opens the cabinet he’d had installed.

You don’t object.

He holds up a black, leather riding crop. You shake your head.

A dildo shaped like a unicorn horn, with sparkles in the silicone to make it shiny. You pass.

A ball gag that’s attached with straps to wrist cuffs and ankle restraints. Another no.

“Are you bored?” Anselm asks, his eyes zeroing in on yours. His voice echoes down the room. “Are you so bored with all of this that nothing makes you tingle in anticipation of me?”

“No,” you say, startled that he would even think that, “are you bored by me?”

Anselm grumbles to himself.

“What?” You say. “You’re too far away. I can’t hear you.”

“I said you’ve hurt my feelings, even suggesting such a thing.” He fusses, putting things back in the cabinet, before closing it.

“You’re so dramatic,” you say quietly.

“I heard that,” Anselm says loudly.

You get up from your desk, noticing that Anselm stubbornly stays where he is, brushing his fingers along a shelf like he’s checking for dust.

You walk over to him, curling your fingers inside the pockets of his suit pants. “I’ve thought of how you can repay me,” you say with a smile.

Anselm turns his gaze to you, pretending not to be particularly interested.

“Come on,” you tease him, “don’t be a stick in the mud.”

“Fine. What is it it?” Anselm says, his arms coming up around your waist.

“I want to have the threesome you keep putting off,” you say.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean, my dear,” he says, but you can tell he’s faking. He knows exactly the one you mean. “But if you’d like someone to join us, I’ll have someone come to the house immediately.”

“Not someone,” you say pointedly.

“Not him,” Anselm returns. “I may invest in his endeavors, but we haven’t socialized in many years. I’m not sure he’s capable of it anymore.”

“Social awkwardness never stopped you from hanging out with someone before,” you say, pulling him closer. “If you don’t want to, just say so and I’ll never bring it up again.”

Anselm sighs. “It isn’t that. But you don’t know him like I do. He’ll be very degrading to you.”

“We do that sometimes,” you say.

“He’s very different from me, and for us to both be with you, I’d have to be quite different too. Different than the devoted husband you're used to.”

Your eyes narrow. “Anselm, last night we role played that you were a professor who was blackmailing me for sex. I don’t buy that excuse either. Whatever you’re trying to skirt around, just fucking say it.”

A worried look passes over Anselm’s face. His eyes study you from behind his yellow lenses. “He’s going to be enamored with you.”

You roll your eyes. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

Anselm’s hands tighten around your waist. “Once he gets a taste of your beautiful body and spirit, well… he’s going to try to keep you, my dear.”

A laugh bubbles out of you. “Who cares? It’s not like he can.”

You look at Anselm’s face. He still looks serious.

“Can he?” You ask, confused.

Anselm’s face quirks into a half-smile, half-grimace. “The only way he’ll be with us is if we go to him. He’s a recluse, and never leaves his work for more than a day. His compound is inescapable. His control over it, total. I have no doubt if he wanted both of us to disappear, he could cover every track we’d ever made. Until the entire world wondered if we’d ever existed at all. He’s a genius, my love.”

“Okay,” you say, thinking over Anselm’s words, “then why would you ever have told me he’d offered? If it’s so dangerous.”

Anselm’s eyes sparkle at you, the dark brown turning warm and anticipatory. “Because it would be spectacular, my dear.”

“Then it’s settled, isn’t it? Neither of us have gotten where we are in life, or with each other, by doing things safe and easy.” You kiss Anselm quickly on the lips. “We’re going to have sex with Nathan Bateman.”

*****

Friday Afternoon.

Nathan’s helicopter drops you and Anselm off in the middle of a field. A vaguely-human robot is behind the wheel of a waiting truck. It puts your bags in the back and helps you into the cab.

You stare at it.

“What the fuck?” You ask it. It doesn’t answer. You turn to Anselm, who’s sitting in the back. “Are there a lot of these things around? They’re creepy.”

“I was only here once, when it was under construction,” Anselm says. “I helped Nathan take care of the contractors who’d built it. So that the project stayed a secret.”

The house and the river running under it are gorgeous. Everything a little too still, though, eerie almost. The house is too quiet.

You let yourselves in and the robot takes care of your bags. You see that it has a ‘Hello, I'm Twelve’ sticky note on the front of its body.

“Twelve?” You say experimentally.

The robot drops the bags it had been holding and pauses, looking at you with its smooth, featureless face.

“Carry on,” you say, watching suspiciously as it resumes its duties. You look at Anselm, who's poking around the living room.

“I think I hear Nathan at the back of the house,” he says.

He takes your hand and leads you out to a deck with weathered boards that overlooks the rushing river water.

Nathan Bateman looks like his photos, even though most of them are from years ago. He has a black, dense beard and a close-shaved head. His hands are wrapped in white tape and he’s beating on a gym bag like it owes him a trillion dollars.

You clear your throat loudly. “You’re not fooling anyone. If you’d wanted us to be impressed, you should’ve greeted us with martinis and a robot butler in a tux.”

Nathan, out of breath, turns to look at you. Your gaze runs from the deep, dark V of sweat down his workout shirt and back up to his face. And you see it in his sharp, dark gaze.

You know two things immediately: one, Nathan Bateman is exactly the kind of trouble that’s perfect for this weekend. Two, he and Anselm have definitely done all kinds of sex to each other.

You have that feeling in your gut as his eyes acknowledge Anselm.

As they sweep over you, though, you have a different feeling entirely.

He has an aura of control that’s different from Anselm’s.

Anselm is like the back room of a gentleman’s club, the one where the business-side is conducted. Hazy smoke and velvet. You’re a half a glass of brandy in, some mostly naked woman face-first between your legs, before you realize he has a gun pointed at you.

Nathan, is a pair of handcuffs and a concrete interrogation room.

His eyes tell you, before he’s even said hello. Submit.

Nathan unwraps his hands with a smile that’s meant to be disarming. He looks like a shark.

“Good to see you,” he says to Anselm. “Thanks for taking me up on the weekend out here. About time.”

Anselm links his fingers through yours. “Not all titans of industry can afford to disappear like you did, Nathan.”

“We’re not like those old assholes. Sitting around doing jack shit. We like to take our fate in our own hands, don’t we,” Nathan says. He holds out his hand and Anselm shakes it.

Nathan shakes your hand too. “Very, very good to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you say with a smile.

Nathan picks up a towel to wipe of his face, before putting his glasses back on.

“Never in a million fucking years did I think Anselm would ever get married. You must be quite a woman, honey.”

Anselm lays his hand on your lower back. “You have no idea, Nathan,” he practically growls. “She’s exquisite.”

No one would notice anything off, but to you, it’s like a gigantic megaphone announcement.

Anselm NEVER speaks about you in the third person when you’re present. Never talks about you like you aren’t there, or like you’re an object, or decoration. It’s a point of pride with him. And he shoots anyone who doesn’t do the same.

But as Anselm and Nathan share a look, you know that Anselm’s tone and word choice have spoken volumes to Nathan, too.

The weekend, it seems, has begun.

*****

“Nathan has cameras everywhere,” Anselm says as he sits back on the bed, his back against the headboard. He unfastens his brace while you unpack.

“Even in here? Pervert,” you say, shooting Anselm a smile.

Anselm chuckles under his breath. He looks odd in the stark, undecorated room.

He rubs his leg and you put down the stack of shirts into the drawer and close it.

“The walk from the truck to the house?” You ask, joining him on the bed.

“It was uneven ground, but I’m fine,” he says.

Anselm never complains. His leg doesn’t usually bother him. You’ve even seen him practically run with his brace, but every once in awhile, he has a bad day.

You gently move his hands out of the way and massage his leg, starting at the ankle and working up to his calf.

“Take off your pants, it’ll make it easier for me,” you say.

Anselm grins, and methodically takes them off. You watch him get hard for you, just from your gaze on his body. He reaches out his hand and cups your cheek.

“Will you give my old friend something to salivate over? Something so delicious, he’ll have no choice but to sit at his desk, jerking off like an over-excited teenager?” Anselm leans forward so his face is closer to yours. “Something that will make him want to completely destroy you, when the time comes?”

So, you undress slowly and sensuously. You let your fingers linger on your skin, over your nipples and breasts.

You sit up on your knees, so your thighs are on on either side of Anselm’s. His hands rub up and down your skin, and you touch yourself for him. Playing with your clit, your own fingers sliding along your wet walls, teasing your own pleasure centers. Your other hand reaches for Anselm’s. You bring it alongside yours.

Anselm adds two fingers into your cunt, pressing against yours, forcing more pleasure through you. You brace yourself one-handed on the wall behind the bed, letting Anselm finger you, dragging your fingers with his until you come in a gush of liquid and a high-pitched moan. It drips down both of your hands and makes a dark stain on the bed. Anselm keeps fingering you, your hips grinding down on him. You come again, biting your lip so hard it hurts.

His fingers pull out you, pushing into your mouth. You suck on them gently, sitting down on the bed and then leaning forward so he can cradle you against his chest.

You hope Nathan was watching.

*****

Dinner is sushi and little cups of sake that Nathan constantly refills for you.

He and Anselm talk easily. Memories of when they were last here. Projects Nathan’s working on that Anselm’s invested in. Everything.

Nathan glances at you. “You’re watching this like it’s a fucking tennis match. Don’t you speak?”

It catches you off guard. He’s right. You’ve taken on the role of quiet submissive easily, but Nathan clearly likes to rile you, gauge your reactions.

You shrug, unbothered. “I like listening. I’ve never heard Anselm talk to someone like this. Like they’re his equal.”

Nathan raises his eyebrows. “If you knew me, you’d say the same thing about me. Your husband and I seem different on the surface, but we’re actually a lot alike."

Nathan pops a salmon nigiri into his mouth.

You look at Anselm. He nods in agreement.

“So,” Nathan says, his eyes almost black as they pin you down, “nothing I ask for should surprise you. Right?”

“Right,” you say automatically.

Something about him unbalances you. Even though you know it’s what he wants, you can’t help it. Normally, Anselm would lay his hand on your back, or say something reassuring. He would back you up in some way.

But this weekend, he’s doing none of that. He’s letting you flounder, and find your own way. If you drown, then this whole thing was your decision, and you wonder, briefly, if Anselm would watch you be taken under by Nathan’s current, swept away in his rip tide.

Nathan’s gaze wanders over you.

“Your body,” he says like he’s talking about a piece of code or the weather, “it’s good.”

Anselm brushes his hand over your shoulder, sweeping your hair back. “You should see her at her best,” he says quietly.

Nathan drains another shot glass of sake. “I’d like that. Why don’t you get undressed, sweetheart? Give us something to look at while we finish talking.”

You turn your head slightly, looking for Anselm’s eyes, but he’s looking further down. Over you, but not at you.

“Please,” Anselm says slowly, “as a thank you for our host’s hospitality. We don’t want to be rude.”

The thrill of Anselm’s fingertips tracing on the back of your neck. The way Nathan keeps eating, even while his eyes are steady and dark on your face.

You slide the thin sweater you’d been wearing up and over your head.

“Very nice,” Nathan says quietly.

“Keep going,” Anselm says, with a depth of authority he usually reserves for when he’s reminded you of your safe word, when he’s made it known that you’re the one who’s actually in control. But again, he’s done none of that now.

You reach back and undo the clasp of your bra. You remove it self-consciously, even though you’re not in any way ashamed of your body. Haven’t been, since the first time you’d been with Anselm. But their gazes are assessing, almost detached.

Nathan points at you with his chopsticks. “Bottoms too.”

You take a deep breath and stand up, undoing your pants and pushing them down over your hips and down your legs. You fold everything neatly and set your clothes next to you. Your nipples are hard and your skin, chilled.

You’re so wet, you’re going to leave a puddle on the dining room chair.

“So, how’s Andre working out?” Nathan asks.

Anselm smiles. “Defective. But I enjoy him that way.”

Nathan chuckles, and signals for one of his more human-looking robots to start clearing the dishes. “That’s fucking weird, man.”

Your rub your hands up and down your arms to warm up.

“You’re too obsessed with perfection,” Anselm says, sitting back in his chair. He unbuttons his suit jacket. “Perfection makes everything dull. I have one perfect thing in my life, and I find that’s quite enough.” Anselm rubs a hand over your bare shoulders.

Nathan nods, looking at you. “You think she’s perfect?”

He sounds casual, but there’s a push in his tone. Like he’s poking at Anselm’s statement, doubting it. And Anselm, though he’s enjoying the weekend’s play acting, can only be pushed so far.

Anselm’s voice is clipped. His eyes are dark steel behind the lenses of his glasses. “Do not forget yourself, Nathan. This is my wife we’re discussing.”

Nathan licks his bottom lip. “Alright, relax. I’m just saying, I’ve never known you to be so hung up on one person. You used to be more open.”

Anselm exhales loudly through his nose. “And you’ve let your isolation narrow your view of the world. You don’t understand people because you don’t consider yourself to be one anymore.”

Nathan makes a face. “I’m human.” He lays a hand on your wrist. “Very human.”

You swallow as he runs his hand up and down your forearm. He picks up your hand and looks at it, brings it up to his face and lays it on his cheek, right where the line of his beard cuts a line across his skin.

“Caught your little show earlier,” Nathan says. “You gonna squirt for me too, honey?”

Anselm chuckles. “If you can find her on-switch, she will.”

“I’m pretty good with hardware,” Nathan says.

You feel his beard with your fingers. It’s not as soft as Anselm’s. Nathan probably doesn’t condition it, doesn’t worry about it rubbing someone’s skin red and raw.

Nathan seems to like the way you feel his face and hair. There’s even a hint of warmth in his eyes. He looks at Anselm.

“She take your cock as well as I used to?” He asks.

Your heart beats faster against your chest.

“Better, and faster. My God, it took me weeks to prepare you,” Anselm says.

Nathan looks offended. “You’re walking around with a fucking tree trunk between your legs. You’re lucky anyone lets you fuck them at all. I should’ve sued.”

Anselm makes an impatient sound in his throat. “Darling, Nathan’s ego is clearly in need of a boost. Be a dear and sit in his lap.”

It’s not unusual for you and Anselm to have a third. This, however, is different. You’ve never been with someone from Anselm’s past, and in the short time you’ve known Nathan, you realize why Anselm’s never told you anything about his former lover and current business partner. There was no way to prepare you for him.

Much like Anselm, Nathan has to be seen to be believed.

Nathan pushes his chair back, giving you room to settle across his lap. He holds you loosely with one arm, while his other feels your skin.

You were already a little cold, but his touch gives you goosebumps.

“Sensitive thing, aren’t you?” He grins. “I like that.”

He looks at you from under his heavy eyelids.

“Can I touch you?” Nathan asks.

“Are you really asking?” You counter.

Nathan smirks. “I’m an egomaniac. I want you to want me.” He runs his fingers over your shoulder, back and forth.

“I’m the one who suggested that Anselm and I take you up on your offer,” you say, pleased that it seems you’ve surprised him.

Nathan’s gaze flicks to Anselm, who’s leaning his elbow on the table, his fingers practically twirling his mustache in glee.

“I told you, she’s like no one you’ve ever known,” Anselm says.

The wine and dessert are forgotten. Anselm holds your hand, pulling you to the sitting area next to the dining room.

Nathan has you on your hands and knees on a cream-colored ottoman. Anselm’s cock is out of his pants in a flash and when your tongue touches his soft, musky head, you feel Nathan’s tongue on you. His hands pull apart your legs so he can eat you out from behind.

The surprise of it makes you gasp, which only gives Anselm the opportunity to insert himself smoothly down your throat, which makes you jerk back, onto Nathan’s waiting tongue.

Nathan’s hands steady your hips. He dives into your cunt with his mouth and you moan around Anselm’s cock, gagging every once in awhile when you take him down your throat.

Anselm’s hands thread through your hair, holding tightly. His breath picks up and his hips move harder, his cock making loud, wet sounds as it enters and exits your mouth. Spit rolls in strands down your chin. Anselm shifts your head a fraction, so you can look up at him.

Whether it’s so he can take in the view, or so he can check you’re okay, you have no idea. Both, probably.

You can’t answer him though because Nathan is licking you from your clit to your asshole, burying his tongue in every place he can and making your body tense and shudder.

He sucks hard on your clit and you come with absolutely no warning, your moaning driving Anselm’s climax and he jams his cock down your throat again, throbbing and coming in hot spurts.

You whine, pulling your hips forward, but Nathan is relentless. Eating you out until your arms collapse and Anselm pulls out of your mouth. You’re face is buried in the fabric of the ottoman, tears staining the fabric, as Nathan’s strong arms hold you up, his tongue and mouth working between your legs quickly, licking another loud orgasm out of you.

And then he’s gone. Your hips drop hard and you lay there, panting.

You see Anselm walk back over to the table and take a sip of water. He hands Nathan a napkin to wipe his face with.

They’re talking about something, but you can’t bring yourself to give a shit. They walk away, Anselm gesticulating and Nathan nodding as they leave down the hallway.

As if you don't exist at all, now that they've gotten what they wanted.

It was probably all of three minutes.

Twelve cleans the kitchen.

How are you going to survive 48 hours of this?

*****

On shaky legs, you dry off as you leave the bathroom. You sit back down on the bed in your room. Anselm’s still not there.

He’d warned you not to wander around the place. Said he was worried about your safety.

There’s a glass of iced tea and note on the dresser.

Three doors on your left. -A

You drink the tea, the cool liquid and sweetness soothing your throat from earlier.

The top drawer of your side of the dresser is empty when you open it. You look in the next one. The next one.

Empty.

It must have happened during dinner.

Anselm’s things are still folded neatly in his drawers. His suits are hung up in the closet. For you, there’s only a white, silk robe. It’s short and trimmed with lace. You put it on, admiring the stitching and the fabric. You tie it shut with a double-knot and leave the room to see what Anselm and Nathan are up to now.

The third door on your left slides open as you approach.

It’s a big, dark room. The only light is from a bank of computer monitors facing the bed.

They’re talking about preserving native plants and animals on their lands. Something about progress versus nature.

Nathan’s sitting on the mattress in his boxers, leaning against the headboard, hands behind his head.

Anselm’s leaning against Nathan’s desk. You can tell he’s tense.

He’s taken off his jacket and tie, unbuttoned his shirt. He holds his glass out to you as you enter.

You think he’s offering you a drink, but then you see it’s empty. Anselm nods to the side table for you to get him a refill.

Your lips twitch. You can’t help it.

Subtle power moves that Anselm is so good at, but he’s never used on you. His eyes laugh slightly, crinkling at the corners. A flash of your Anselm, before his gaze goes serious again.

He shakes his glass lightly, the leftover ice tink-tink-tink-ing as he does.

You take the glass over to the table, turning your back to refill it.

A hand brushes up the back of your thigh and under your robe. You smell Nathan. His teeth graze along the back of your neck and his hand slides around the front of your hip. He presses his hard cock against you.

“Don’t bother with the drink,” Nathan says, his fingertips toying with your clit. “You taste better anyway.”

His fingers crawl down between your lips, where you feel yourself starting to get wet. He licks your neck, slow circles on your clean skin.

“Anselm says you can take two cocks like a champ,” Nathan says.

You shudder. You’ve done it before, but usually you have time to prepare. Anselm alone can stretch you to your limits.

Nathan pulls away from you, tugging your arm.

“Get on the bed,” he says.

Anselm’s taking off his clothes, unhurried. He reaches over to the nightstand and drops a silicone dildo next to you on the mattress.

“If I have you two, what’s this for?” You ask him.

Anselm remains expressionless, neatly laying his shirt over the back of Nathan’s desk chair.

“Giving you this is a kindness. I could make you use your own hand,” he says.

He sounds impatient.

“Now,” he says loudly, confirming your suspicions.

As you part your legs, resting the head of the cold material against yourself, you remember what Anselm had said. That he’d be different here. He certainly is.

Nathan sits on the bed, he gently takes the dildo away from you. “I don’t think you’re wet enough, sweetheart.” He looks up at Anselm, who’s taking off his pants.

“She should get wet or this is going to be very unpleasant for her,” Anselm says dismissively.

Nathan’s eyes narrow a tiny fraction. “Don’t try to be an asshole, just to make me go easier on your wife.”

“And I thought you didn’t want me to think of her as my wife,” Anselm snaps back, anger coating his words.

“Anselm-“ you start to say, but he cuts you off with a look.

He never has sex when he’s angry. Or at least, never with you. It’s not that he’s opposed to it, but honestly, Anselm turns into a puddle of love when he gets his hands on you. It melts away his anger.

So, whatever Nathan said before you got here, it must have been bad.

Nathan takes off his glasses, tosses them aside. He rubs a hand up and down your thigh. “Anselm and I had a little disagreement.”

Anselm turns away, his hand smoothing over his beard.

Nathan clears his throat. “I thought this was a no boundaries weekend, but you can probably tell already, I’m all about finding the limits. I had to find his.”

“Are you okay?” You ask Anselm.

Anselm’s back relaxes. He takes a deep breath and continues undressing, pushing his pants down over the swell of his ass and his thick thighs.

“I’m fine, my dear,” he says. “Nathan does have a way of being the most irritating person on the planet, though.”

Nathan grins. “I asked Anselm if he’d let me have you tonight. Alone. Just you and me while he slept down the hall.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed to that. My rule, not his,” you say.

“I asked him, not you. Trying to figure out who’s really in charge here,” Nathan says.

Your gut clenches as his eyes freeze you in place. Nathan’s face warms back up into the fake easy-going attitude you’re used to now. “I didn’t mean any of it. I just had to see where we were all at.”

Anselm shakes his head. “Don’t scare her.”

“Okay,” Nathan says. He looks at you. “I’m sorry. The truth is, I didn’t really buy this whole thing you have with Anselm until I saw it for myself.”

Anselm sits next to you, near the pillows. He wraps his arm around your waist and lays his forehead against yours. “Love and devotion aren’t in Nathan’s vocabulary.”

Nathan hums in agreement. “True. The way you described how you felt for her sounded like a psychotic break to me. This woman comes out of nowhere. Gets you to completely change your attitude toward relationships, and then takes over your entire family? I had to be suspicious.”

Your eyes track from Anselm’s to Nathan’s. “You were protecting him.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Nathan says, his shoulders shifting uncomfortably.

You lay your hands on either side of Anselm’s face so you can look at him dead on. “Of all the weird people you know, this guy is definitely the weirdest.”

Anselm laughs, a deep chuckle from deep in his chest. He puts his hands over your shoulders, warming the chill off your skin.

He takes off his glasses and sets them next to Nathan’s on the nightstand. He takes your hands off of his face, holding them as he kisses you.

Really kisses you.

The kind where his lips are slotted deeply into yours, devouring you, tilting his head to drive his tongue into your mouth, mapping out everything he can touch and taste. Your breath catches and Anselm inhales it, sucking on your bottom lip, pulling it into the hot, soft cavern of his mouth. Your mouth chases his, eager for more.

“Jesus, okay,” Nathan says loudly, breaking the moment. “I get it. You really love her. Fucking hell, dude. Leave some for the rest of us.”

Anselm stops kissing you, with one last peck on your cheek. He gives you a teasing, wicked look. His hand cups your chin.

“Whenever you’re ready, my dear,” he says quietly.

Nathan looks amused. Intrigued. His confidence is back in place.

“She’s ready,” Nathan says. “Come here.”

You lean forward, meeting Nathan as he slides his hand up behind your head, bringing you in to kiss you himself.

You were right. Nathan’s beard is scratchy. His mouth is hot and wet, dominating on yours. Your hand bumps against his knee and you take the opportunity to follow the muscle of his thigh up and under the leg of his boxers.

He pulls back, grips your chin hard in his fingers. “Did I say you could do that?”

You shake your head.

“Words, slut,” he says, his voice low and hard.

“No, you didn’t,” you say.

Anselm’s hand runs over the crease of your hip and down between your legs. You hadn’t realized you’d been pressing them together until Anselm works his fingers down between them.

“You’re wet now,” Anselm almost purrs. “Soaking. Delightful.”

You turn, trying to get him to kiss you, but Anselm pulls back. He unties your robe deftly, almost ripping it off of you.

“Nathan’s going to lay down, and you’re going to ride him like a whore until I tell you to stop,” Anselm says. His eyes are bright. He’s back in his role now. Fully in control.

Your breath shakes as Nathan takes off his boxers and lays down. Anselm gives you a gentle push and you turn to Nathan. You straddle him, sitting on his cock, but not taking it inside of you just yet. You drag his length along the wet seam of your cunt. He’s so hard you could probably get off just like this.

Anselm rubs circles on your back. “What do you think of her?”

Nathan’s lips are parted. He raises his hands to play with your nipples. “Gorgeous. Fucking unreal.”

You slide forward enough to catch the soft head of him, readjusting to fill yourself with his cock. Nathan smiles, exhaling hard as you take him in one, smooth sitting motion.

“Oh fuck, honey, you’re a fucking professional aren’t you?” He grins.

You smile, slowly rising and lowering yourself as Nathan pulls your nipples a little too hard. You shudder on him.

“Make yourself come. I want to feel it,” he says.

You seat yourself on Nathan, resting your hands on the hard muscles of his chest. You tilt your hips forward and back, adjusting yourself to him, riding him slowly at first. Nathan bites his lower lip, his cheeks a little flushed already.

He’s thick. Not as big as Anselm, but he’s so hard it’s easy for you to rock against him, hitting all the places inside and out that you need to moan and squirm. Anselm’s hand reaches down to touch where you and Nathan meet. You come with a hot gush of liquid, squeezing Nathan’s pecs, and clenching down on him so hard, it almost hurts.

You haven’t come down all the way before Anselm’s hands push you down. Nathan captures your mouth as your chest presses onto his, coaxing your tongue out and sucking on it gently as you feel Anselm position himself behind you.

His fingers are already well-lubricated as he slips two into you, working you open with a groan.

“Stay still,” Nathan orders when your hips start to move.

It’s like torture. There’s nowhere for your pleasure to go, so you sit, clenching around Nathan while Anselm works your other hole open enough to finally give you just the tip of his enormous cock.

You moan, and you think they do too, as Anselm rubs a hand over one of your shoulders.

“You have to relax for us,” Anselm says.

You take a shaky breath and open your eyes. Nathan’s dark gaze is already on your face.

Anselm slides in a fraction more and you whine. Not from pain, but from the already too-full feeling of them inside of you.

Nathan almost smiles. You know he can feel Anselm at this point, the thin barrier of your body separating them.

“Take it,” Nathan says in a whisper. “Fucking take it all, sweetheart. Come on.”

Anselm’s body bends over yours as he slowly stretches his way inside of you. You’re panting.

Nathan’s hand grips your hair. “I bet your sweet little pussy’s never been tighter.”

You moan, your body relaxing, needing to feel as full as possible, needing the last few inches of Anselm’s cock deep inside of you.

“You’re a good girl,” Anselm growls in your ear, his tongue catching your earlobe. “We’re going to use you now. And you’re going to let us.”

He pulls halfway out and pushes back inside, stealing your breath and popping your eyes wide. Nathan pulls out a fraction, punching his hips up into yours.

“This what she wanted?” Nathan asks Anselm.

They’re fucking you hard already, in and out in tandem. You’d thought- oh fuck, who even knows- you’d thought it would start slow. But you already have tears in your eyes, their cocks dragging in and out of you. Your skin stretches and burns from the delicious way your body holds onto both of them.

Anselm grunts. “This is what she wanted, yes. It’s what she’s good for. Aren’t you?”

He slaps your ass hard, not even a stutter in his thrusts.

“Y-yes,” you choke on the word.

“Oh look at that,” Nathan groans, “fucked out already. Brainless little slut.”

You moan, your body moving forward against the relentless pounding, but Anselm pulls your shoulders, bringing you all the way down on both cocks again.

Anselm slows the pace, long strokes in and out of you. It should be a rest, but Anselm knows you better than that. Knows you can’t hold back when you can feel every ridge and vein in his cock.

Nathan takes his cue and pulls in and out as much as he can from below you. Letting you feel way he stretches you out.

“You’re cute like this,” Nathan says. “Look at me.”

Your eyes can’t even focus, but you open them. It feels so good you can’t even think. Like nothing exists but the pure ecstasy of being filled by these two men.

“Good girl,” Nathan says slowly. “You gonna come for us? Get off on being fucked like a dirty slut?”

His hand in your hair, he nods for you.

You’re moaning, unable to hold back as they fuck you back and forth between them.

“Nathan, pull out of her,” Anselm says.

You collapse onto Nathan when he pulls his cock out of you, but Anselm pulls your hair back so your head snaps up. He fucks his entire cock into your cunt and you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to process it. He pulls out. Nathan pushes in.

In and out, sharing your dripping wet cunt.

“She’s close,” Anselm says, his voice is strained.

He resumes his previous position, gently feeding his cock back into your asshole as Nathan fucks back up into your pussy.

Nathan pants in your ear. “You like this, don’t you? One load’s not enough for you. You need the two of us ruining your little holes.”

You scream when you come, your throat burns, your whole body burns, every single nerve sings as you go completely stiff. Coming so hard your eyes roll back in your head and they have to hold you up to keep fucking you. It’s never ending. You can’t stop your muscles from pulsing around them, which only makes them fuck you even harder.

You feel like you’re going to go insane from how it all makes you feel. Nathan starts coming deep inside of you, lodging his cock as far as it can go. Your fingers dig into his shoulders and he fills the air with filthy sounds and words. Anselm finally lets go, filling your ass with hot ropes of cum.

Your body shakes and you don’t realize you’re sobbing until Nathan’s arms are tight around you, his hand on the back of your head.

“Shhh,” he says, still out of breath, “’s okay, honey. You’re alright.”

Anselm pulls out of you and you feel his arms around you too.

“She’ll be okay,” he says. Nathan must have given him a questioning look.

You sniffle, wiping Nathan’s shoulder where you’d cried a puddle of drool and tears.

Anselm turns your head and kisses you softly. “There, there,” he says. “You did beautifully. It was a lot for you, wasn’t it?”

You nod, not quite ready to speak.

Anselm’s face is worried. “Too much, perhaps.”

You shake your head.

He smiles, kisses your forehead. “Alright. I’m going to draw you a bath. Nathan will be right here with you.”

You sniffle. “I know. He’s still inside me.”

Nathan kisses your cheek. “Holy shit, you’re a dream. Making a fucking joke at a time like this.”

Anselm disappears into the bathroom and Nathan gingerly pulls out of you, going extra slow, knowing how sensitive you are.

He holds you close to him, rubbing your back.

“For real,” he says quietly, “you’ll be okay?”

You look at him, touched. “It was perfect. All of it. It was just intense.”

You reach up and scratch your fingers through his beard. Something Anselm likes. And apparently, so does Nathan. He looks almost relaxed.

Nathan looks down his nose at you, but for once, it’s not condescending. “You love Anselm as much as he loves you?”

“I do,” you say, smiling.

His eyes are dark pools that pull you in. “Good. But if-“

“Your bath is ready,” Anselm says from the doorway.

“I don’t think I can walk,” You flop back, out of Nathan’s arms.

“I got this, Vogelweide,” Nathan says. He kneels on the bed, pulling you to the edge so he can pick you up and carry you bridal-style to the bathroom.

Anselm’s already in the tub, which Nathan quirks a brow at, but he helps you in anyway. You sit between Anselm’s legs, reclining limply against him. He wraps his arms around you.

“I’m gonna use the shower in the other room. Give you two a minute,” Nathan says. He shuts the door as he leaves.

Anselm takes a big breath, holding you tightly. He kisses the side of your head. You sigh and sink down slightly, letting the water come up to the top of your chest.

“I think we should leave tomorrow, and not Monday,” Anselm says quietly.

You turn, your sore muscles protesting and water sloshing. “What? We just got here.”

Anselm scratches his neck, but you know his scars aren’t bothering him. It’s Nathan. He’s gotten under Anselm’s skin.

“You were completely in control out there,” you say, dipping your head down to wet your hair. “And I loved it. Every second.”

The corner of Anselm’s mouth stretches up. “Did you now?”

You turn back around to nestle in Anselm’s lap again. “I did.”

“Usually something that intense is just the two of us,” Anselm says.

“Jealousy isn't your style,” you remind him.

“Not normally. Jealously is useless and does nothing for me. Nathan is not normal.”

“He’s also not my husband and not the love of my life.” You reach up and cup your hand around the back of Anselm’s neck, rubbing it soothingly. “He’s completely full of himself, and totally insecure. He can show a girl a good time, but…”

Anselm grabs a bottle of shampoo and squirts some into one of his hands. He massages his fingers through your hair.

“You could fix him,” he says.

“Not my dog. Not my fight.”

“You like him, though.”

You sigh, leaning into Anselm’s scalp massage. “Surprisingly, yes, I do.”

“But you can’t live without me, can you, Birdie?”

Anselm’s tone is teasing, but something in it makes you twist around again, so you can look him in the eyes.

“No, Anselm. No one could ever come between us.”

Later, as you’re snuggled between Anselm and Nathan in Nathan’s bed, one last thought creeps into your brain.

Nathan has cameras everywhere. Anselm knew Nathan was listening while you were in the bath together.

Anselm didn’t need reassurances. He’d needed Nathan to know that some boundaries weren’t movable. Some things, Anselm would never negotiate for.

*****

Saturday Morning.

“You brought a gun,” you say, looking at Anselm’s underwear drawer.

You’d both gone back to your room to get ready for the day. Nathan had already been up for hours working. He never slept more than a few hours a night.

Anselm is putting his hair in place and you’re grabbing clothes for him. At the bottom of a pile of Anselm’s silk underwear is a matte, black pistol.

“You sound surprised,” Anselm says from his place in front of the bathroom mirror.

You look at the gun, then cover it again. Out of sight out of mind.

You’d thought the only thing dangerous here was Nathan. And Anselm would never shoot him. At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

He puts his suit on. You put the white silk robe from last night back on and you head out to breakfast on the back deck.

You’re sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, your feet up in Anselm’s lap when Nathan strides out. He pushes up the sleeves of his white sweater and sits down in the chair next to you.

He rests his hand on the back of your chair, his fingers just brushing over the thin fabric of your robe.

“Rested?” He asks you.

“Why?” You ask, suspicious.

He pushes up his glasses and pours himself a mug of coffee. “Calm down. I don’t have time to fuck you this morning.”

“Wow, my review of this place just went from four stars to three.”

Nathan rubs a hand over his heart. “After everything we shared last night? I’m heartbroken, honey.”

“Two and a half because of your whining.”

Nathan runs a hand over his head. “Anselm and I’ll have to switch places tonight, see if I can’t get myself back up to four.”

Anselm makes a sound in his throat. “The double penetration hasn't ever worked the other way around for her. I’m too large. It makes her uncomfortable.”

“Learn something new every day I guess.” Nathan toasts Anselm with his mug. “Anything you two haven’t tried that I can help you with?”

You and Anselm blink at each other. You shrug.

“Holy shit,” Nathan says, “you two are fucking depraved.”

He stands up and plants a kiss on the top of your head.

“I gotta go back to work. See you for lunch.”

“He was in a good mood,” you say as you watch Nathan grab a green shake from the refrigerator and disappear into the elevator.

Anselm picks at his thumbnail. “Of course he was. Things look very different from inside of you. You have a way of changing a man. I should know.”

“I don’t think anyone could change Nathan.” You sip your coffee. “And I’m not sure I’d want to.”

Anselm pats your feet. “I have some business calls to make on the satellite telephone. Perhaps you should go visit the lab. You can build Andre a friend.”

Twelve comes to clear the breakfast dishes.

“Hold on. I’m not done with that.” You pick a croissant off the plate. “Can I have a glass of orange juice, please?”

Twelve’s wide steps take it back to the kitchen.

“I’m going to draw eyes and a smile on that thing,” you say, taking a bite of croissant.

“Give it a mustache,” Anselm says.

You hold out the croissant for Anselm to take a bite of his own. “I prefer men with more facial hair than that.”

*****

You ask Twelve to take you to Nathan and it leads you down a level. You have no idea how far down you are. A long way, judging from the elevator ride.

You follow it down an unnervingly nondescript hallway and it opens a door.

The room is big, with bright, cold lights and electronic parts everywhere. A table at the center of the room has a partially-finished mechanical body in it. Nathan’s bent over, working on something in the chest cavity.

He glances up. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? Don’t try to bring orange juice in here. You’re gonna cost me ten million dollars when you spill it.”

You drain the glass and leave it with Twelve. “You can afford it,” you say, wandering inside.

“True. But it’s not about money. It’s about the time it would take me to rebuild.” Nathan pulls his hand back, flexing his fingers.

“What are you doing?” You stand next to him, peering down at the mess of wires and servos.

“Giving the tin man a heart.”

“I thought you were the tin man.”

Nathan grins. “You would know. You’re married to the fucking Wizard of Oz.”

You laugh. Nathan slips his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to the table. “See that?” He points down at a bright red piece in the chest, covered in wires and soldering. “One of the most important pieces. It’s part of what separates this model from Twelve.”

“Is it the brain?”

Nathan’s hand brushes up and down your back. “No, although the brain was the hardest part of make. This is part of what’s going to allow this robot to be more than just a supercomputer. More like actual AI. It sends very specific sensory feedback to the brain.”

You look at him suspiciously.

Nathan turns to face you, so both his hands are around your waist. “It sits on the surface of the chest. When I stimulate it, and it’s going to send pleasure feedback for a more realistic sexual experience. The robot will have a good time, and I won't have to reach down all the way between its legs.”

You snort. “So, her clit is where her heart should be? Yeah, that sounds like the male view of female anatomy.”

Nathan’s head tips back and he laughs. It’s an actual laugh, deep, echoing in the lab. He wipes his eyes under his glasses.

He smiles as he speaks. “I can make a computer that will pass the Turing Test. For it to be human, though, it needs an anchor to the rest of the world. Needs to feel connected to humanity or it can do a lot of damage without realizing it."

You're not sure if he's still talking about the robot, or about himself.

"This robot," Nathan pushes up his glasses, "is going to test how much of the sexual experience makes a human tick. Your visit's good timing. Helped me rethink my approach."

“So, when I’m fucking you, it’s research? Like, we’re doing it for science?”

Nathan nods. “Sure, you can think of it that way. If I modeled it on Anselm, the entire world would be fucked or shot before the thing turned one year old.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh.

Nathan’s thumb rubs over your lower lip. He watches your mouth. “Love that sound.”

You pull back slowly. “I should go. Anselm’s working, and I should too, for a few hours at least.”

Nathan drops his hand. You can tell the wheels are still turning in his head. “Alright. See you later.”

He gives your waist a squeeze and sends you on your way. You feel his eyes on you as you leave.

*****

“But that wasn’t the end of it,” Anselm says as he tells stories over lunch, “the man had the audacity to try and borrow money from me a second time.”

Nathan shakes his head. “Idiot.”

“That’s what I said,” you say, pointing at him. “I told the guy ‘why would you come back here? Do you see the stain on the carpet? That’s blood. Idiot.’”

“Birdie, that stain by the lamp isn’t blood. It’s chocolate ice cream,” Anselm says.

“Seriously?” You look at him.

Anselm nods. “Louie dropped it during his birthday party four months ago.”

You shrug. “Well, potato tomato or whatever. You ended up killing the guy anyway.”

Anselm wipes his mouth with his napkin. “I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

He leans back in his chair, adjusting his tie.

“How’d he look?” Nathan says, taking a drink of juice.

“Disrespectfully, and I know that you catch my meaning,” Anselm says, looking at Nathan seriously from behind his yellowed lenses. “As someone who seems hell-bent on winning my wife’s affections, you should know that I never go anywhere unarmed.”

Nathan sets down his glass. He folds his hands in front of his beard. “And you should know that I’d never let you bring a fire-able weapon into this house.”

Silence settles over the table.

“How would you know if he did?” You ask.

“I assume he tried,” Nathan said, his dark eyes turning to you. “I have scanners at the entrances.”

“Metal detectors?” Anselm asks. He smiles, leaning back comfortably in his chair.

Nathan’s eyes narrow. “Twelve. Search his room.”

The robot, who’d been standing like a statue by the table, turns and strides away.

“I’m disappointed that you think you’d need a gun,” Nathan says.

“It’s not loaded,” Anselm says.

“Then why bring it at all?” Nathan pushes back from the table.

“For comfort. It’s like a teddy bear to me,” Anselm smiles enigmatically.

Nathan raises his eyebrows briefly. “You can keep it, as long as it’s not loaded. You won’t find any bullets here anyway.” His gaze sweeps over to you. “You bring a teddy bear, honey?”

You cock your head toward Anselm. “Yup.”

Nathan sighs impatiently, but there’s no annoyance. “You two are gross. Quit being so in love before I get jealous.”

“Jealousy isn’t your style,” Anselm says to Nathan.

You look at Anselm. You’d said the same thing to him last night.

From the cocky grin on Nathan’s face, he gets the reference. So he had been listening.

“You two are mind-fuck city,” you say. “How did you guys live out here for like, 3 months together?”

“We had early prototype robots that Nathan built. We found them suitable diversions. Along with each other.”

Nathan’s eyes spark. He rubs his knuckles over his bottom lip. “I still have that machine. The one you asked me to build, but we never got around to using.”

Anselm lets out a low groan. “I think I brought along the perfect test subject for that.”

-Part 2 here-