What Trust costs
Alex Pov
Jeff walks into the lounge room. He has a worried look on his face, he looks pale, and his eyes have lost their spark. Hi Alex, he said. He gave me a hug, I didn’t reciprocate, and then he looked over at Max, “I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he said. Well, I was expecting more from you, Jeff, Max started.
Max’s words hang in the air, and I feel my chest tighten. I watch Jeff’s face pale further, watch the way Jeff’s hands curl into fists at his sides. This is it, the moment I had been building toward since I decided to orchestrate this confrontation.
“I expected you to stand up for yourself,” Max continues, his voice smooth and authoritative in a way that makes my skin crawl. “Instead, you come crawling back to Alex like a dog that’s been kicked. It’s pathetic.”
I force myself to speak, my voice steadier than it feels. “That’s exactly why you’re here, Max. So Jeff can see what type of person you actually are. So he can understand how you’ve been manipulating him.”
Max turns his gaze to me, and there’s something predatory in the way he smiles. “Oh, Alex. Still trying to take control, I see”, he laughs. “I haven’t been manipulating Jeff; he has a mind of his own”, Max says. I just have something more that Jeff prefers, something you can’t give him, he says, groping his large cock in his jeans.
That’s enough, Max, Jeff tells him, you might have a big cock, but you’re a manipulative prick who uses people like toys. I can see that now: I let you get away with it when we were together because I was blinded by the physical pull, but not anymore. You need to leave Alex and me alone.
Max’s jaw tightens, and he stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor. The sound cuts through the room like a blade. “You’re making a mistake,” he says, his voice dropping to something cold and dangerous. “Both of you.”
I watch Max move toward the door, waiting for him to leave. Instead, Max pauses in the doorway, turning back to look at Jeff one last time. “You’ll miss what we had. You’ll be bored with him within a month.”
“Get out, Max,” Ben says from behind them, his voice quiet but absolute. I hadn’t even realised Ben was still in the room, that he’d stepped back to give them space.
Max leaves, and the sound of the front door slamming echoes through the house. The silence that follows feels enormous, suffocating. Okay, who wants something to eat, Ben says. I nod, grateful for the interruption, for something to anchor us back to normalcy even though nothing feels normal anymore.
Ben disappears into the kitchen, and I’m left standing in the lounge with Jeff, the space between us suddenly feeling vast. Jeff looks at me, really looks at me, and I see the question forming behind his eyes. He wants to know how much I orchestrated, how much of this was calculated.
The truth is messier than that. I didn’t plan for Max to show up tonight, I tell him; that was Ben’s idea, something about closure and understanding the full scope of the manipulation.
“I’m sorry,” Jeff says quietly. “For all of it. For lying to you, for letting him manipulate me.”
“I know,” I cut him off, because I do know. I can see it written on his face, the genuine remorse, the way his shoulders are hunched like he’s bracing for impact, the tremor in his voice when he speaks.
But knowing and forgiving are two different things, and I’m not ready to forgive him just yet. Not while the wound is still raw. “We need to talk about what Ben told you,” I tell him, observing his reaction. “About what I want.”
Jeff nods slowly, his hazel eyes searching mine. I adjust my glasses, that nervous habit of mine, when I feel a complicated surge of emotion. Frustration. Affection. Anger. All of it tangled together in a way I can’t untangle.
“Ben said you wanted...” Jeff trails off, unable to finish the sentence. He runs a hand through his hair, a mirror of his own anxiety. “That you wanted him. That you want me to know about it.”
“Yes,” I said, I mean, we are in an open relationship still, so within the rules we made, I don’t think it’s unreasonable that I can have Ben over, I mean, we’ve both had sex with him before.
Jeff shifts his weight as he processes the words. “An open relationship,” he repeats, as if saying it aloud might help him understand. “Right. Yes. We agreed to that.”
“So, you and Ben...” Jeff starts, then stops. He can’t quite make himself finish the thought.
“We’ve slept together,” I say, adjusting my glasses again. “And I want to keep sleeping with him. I want to explore what that looks like.”
The words hang there, and Jeff is holding his breath. He lets it out slowly. This is nothing different from what you wanted with Max, I told him. We were both willing participants; I’m just asking for the same kind of consideration.
He wasn’t expecting me to be so direct, so willing to lay it all out like this. The old Jeff would have deflected, would have made a joke, or turned it into something lighter. But the old Jeff is the one who got us here, tangled up with Max, lying to the person he loves.
“I know,” Jeff says, and I can see he means it. He does know.
Ben emerges from the kitchen carrying plates, the smell of pasta wafting ahead of him. He sets them down on the dining table with deliberate casualness, as if they’re not sitting in the aftermath of a confrontation that’s stripped everything bare.
“Come on,” Ben says, gesturing to the table. I move toward the table, and Jeff follows. Ben has made something simple, penne arrabbiata, from the look of it. The pasta steams on the plates, and Ben hands us a fork.
Jeff sits across from me, and there’s a careful distance maintained between us now. I take a bite, let the heat of the pasta settle on my tongue. It tastes good, I need this, the physical act of eating, I hadn’t realised how hungry I was.
“Thanks for doing that,” Jeff says to Ben, his voice still carrying the weight of everything that’s happened. “For stepping in. For... all of it.”
Ben waves a hand dismissively, though there’s something softer in his expression now. “That’s what friends do,” he says, taking another mouthful of pasta. “Besides, someone needed to make sure you both got your heads on straight.”
I take another bite, chewing slowly while processing Ben’s words. There’s truth in what he’s said, but there’s also something else lurking underneath, something I’m not quite ready to examine. It felt like Ben has orchestrated this whole thing, knows exactly how to push each of us, has positioned himself perfectly in the middle of it all. Helpful. Supportive. Ever-present.
“I meant what I said earlier,” Jeff says, his voice pulling me back to the present moment. “About wanting to make this work. About us.”
I glanced up from my plate, meeting Jeff’s gaze. There’s vulnerability there, the kind that comes from being stripped bare. Jeff was hurting, and he needed to know if we’d be okay.
“I know,” I say, and I do. But knowing and believing are different things, too. I set my fork down, the metal clinking softly against the plate. “I need time, Jeff. Time to figure out if I can trust you again.”
Jeff nods, accepting this. He doesn’t push, doesn’t try to convince me that everything will be fine immediately. That’s something, at least.
Ben reaches for the wine bottle on the counter and refills our glasses. The red liquid catches the light, and I watch it settle in my glass. “You should stay tonight,” Ben says to Jeff, and it’s framed as a suggestion but feels more like a directive. “Sleep on the couch.”
I’d like that, thanks, Jeff says. It’s pretty quiet at our place; the emptiness is messing with my head.
Ben nods, as if this was the expected answer, and I wonder briefly how much of tonight Ben had orchestrated beyond just bringing Max here. The thought flickers and fades as I take another sip of wine, the tannins settling sharply against my tongue.
The rest of dinner passes in a strange sort of quiet. We eat, we talk about inconsequential things, a show Ben’s been watching, a difficult client at work that Jeff dealt with last week. It’s the kind of normal conversation that feels fragile; if we speak too loudly or move too quickly, it might shatter. I find myself hyperaware of Jeff’s presence across the table, the way he moves, the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.
When we finish eating, Ben clears the plates with efficient movements. Jeff offers to help, but Ben waves him off with a gesture that brooks no argument. “You two should chill in the lounge room, talk things through.”
We move onto the couch, and Jeff holds my hand. “I really am sorry for all this,” he says. I know you are, I tell him, but I need you to understand what that means. I need you to understand what I need from you going forward.”
Jeff’s grip on my hand tightens slightly, and I can feel the slight tremor in his fingers. “Tell me,” Jeff says. “Tell me what you need.”
I take a breath, gathering my thoughts. The wine has loosened something in me, made the words come easier. “I need honesty. Complete honesty. No more secrets, no more half-truths about where you’ve been or who you’ve seen. If you’re tempted by someone, you tell me. If you want something, you ask.”
“Okay,” Jeff says quietly.
“And I need to know that you’re choosing this. Choosing us. Not because Max scared you straight, not because you got caught, but because you actually want to be with me. Because you want to build something real with me.”
“That’s what I want too”, Jeff says. Fuck, I lean over and kiss him. He looks so vulnerable. I love the way he kisses me, the little flick of his tongue against mine, the slight moan. I’ve missed this.
When we break apart, Jeff’s eyes are still closed, and I can see the relief written across his face. It’s the kind of relief that comes from being forgiven, at least partially, at least enough to breathe again.
“I’ve missed you, too,” Jeff whispers.
I pull back slightly, studying Jeff’s face in the soft lamplight of the lounge room. There’s something different about him now, something stripped away. The charming facade that usually comes so easily to Jeff feels absent, replaced by something rawer, more honest.
“Ben orchestrated tonight,” I say quietly. It’s not a question.
Jeff nods slowly. “He said you needed to see Max for what he really is. That I needed to see it too.”
I process this, turning it over in my mind.
From the kitchen, I hear the clinking of dishes and the sound of running water. Ben is giving us space, which is thoughtful, though I find myself wondering what Ben is thinking about out there. Whether he’s satisfied with how tonight has played out.
The sound of the kitchen tap shutting off pulls my attention back to the present moment. Ben emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel, and something in his expression makes my stomach tighten. There’s a calculated ease to Ben’s movements, the way he settles into the armchair across from us with the confidence of someone who knows exactly where he belongs.
“So,” Ben says, tossing the towel over his shoulder. “How are we feeling?”
Jeff shifts beside me, and I can feel the slight tension return to his hand. It’s a simple question, but there’s weight behind it, the weight of Ben’s involvement, his orchestration, his presence in the middle of all of this.
“Better,” I say carefully. “We’re talking.”
“Good.” Ben leans back in the chair, and his gaze moves between us with an intensity that makes me feel nervous. Jeff kisses me again, this time with more passion. He wants to move this to something more physical.
Jeff’s hand moves to my thigh, and I feel the heat of it through the fabric of my jeans. There’s a question in the touch, a request for permission. I lean into him, letting my body answer what my mouth hasn’t quite managed yet.
Ben watches from the armchair, and I become acutely aware of his presence, the way Ben’s posture shifts slightly, the way his breathing seems to deepen. It should feel intrusive, having Ben here while Jeff kisses me again, more insistent this time, his tongue exploring my mouth with a desperation that speaks to weeks of distance. But it doesn’t feel intrusive. It feels like exactly what Ben wanted, what I wanted.
“You want to take this somewhere more comfortable?” Ben asks, his voice carrying a casual tone that doesn’t quite mask the intent underneath.
Jeff pulls back slightly, and I can see the flush creeping up his neck. There’s more than enough room for three, Ben says.
My pulse quickens as the wine and adrenaline combine into something heady and disorienting. In my mind, I know I’ve just told Jeff he needs to rebuild trust between us, there’s a part of me that’s screaming no, we need to take this a bit slower, the other part of me, the part that’s been curious about Ben since the moment Ben suggested this whole thing, stays silent.
“Yeah,” I say. “Okay.” In the moment, I am so fucking excited having Jeff kiss me while Ben watches.
Jeff’s hand stills on my thigh, and I can feel the slight tension in his body. Jeff is surprised, maybe uncertain, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, Jeff looks at Ben with something that might be relief, might be excitement, might be both tangled together.
Ben stands with that easy grace of his, moving toward the hallway. We get up and follow. Ben’s bedroom is clean and minimalist, with a king-sized bed that dominates the space. The sheets are dark grey, expensive-looking, and there’s a soft glow from the bedside lamp that Ben switches on as we enter.
My heart pounds in my chest. This is happening. After weeks of tension and uncertainty, after the confrontation with Max, after the careful conversation on the couch, this is actually happening.
Jeff moves toward the bed with hesitancy, Ben closes the door behind us with a soft click, and the sound feels significant, like a threshold being crossed.
“Come here,” Ben says, his voice dropping into something lower, more authoritative. He’s looking at Jeff, and I watch as my boyfriend responds to that command, watch as Jeff moves toward Ben like he’s being pulled by an invisible thread.
I stay where I am on the bed just watching. Ben laps at Jeff’s mouth, kissing him in a hot, messy way. Ben looks at me while kissing Jeff and smiles, fuck, this is hot. My cock is hard watching as Ben is devouring Jeff.
Ben starts stripping Jeff, taking off his shirt, kissing and biting his nipples. He moves to Jeff’s zipper and undoes his pants, leaving Jeff in his jocks. He strips himself off and then moves over to me.
He unbuttons my shirt and leans in and kisses me, not in the same messy way he was kissing Jeff, but more restrained, still fucking hot. He helps me out of my pants and my underwear, fuck, my cock is throbbing.
Ben pulls back and looks between us, his gaze settling on me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. Ben moves to the nightstand, opens a drawer, and pulls out a small black case. I recognise it immediately; the same case Ben’s father keeps at the cabin.
“I want to try something,” Ben says, opening the case to reveal the gleaming stainless-steel cage and leather collar, If you’re both willing.”
Jeff’s breath hitches beside me, and I feel my own stomach clench. This is different from what we’d done before, more deliberate, more controlled. Ben is asking permission, but there’s an expectation underneath the question, a certainty that we’ll say yes.
“Who?” Jeff asks, his voice hoarse.
“You,” Ben says to Jeff. “I want to see you like Alex was when we were at the cabin. I watch as Ben holds the cage up to the light, the stainless steel catching the glow from the bedside lamp. The device is smaller than I remember from that glimpse at the cabin, more refined somehow, though no less intimidating. My mouth goes dry.
“I want to see you restrained,” Ben says to Jeff, his voice carrying that same authoritative tone that makes my skin prickle. “While Alex watches. While he controls you.”
Jeff’s chest rises and falls more quickly now. I can see the conflict playing across his face, the desire warring with uncertainty, the need to please Ben battling against whatever hesitation Jeff still carries.
“I don’t know,” Jeff says, and his hand finds mine on the bed, gripping it like an anchor.
Ben sets the case down on the nightstand and moves closer. He’s completely naked now, comfortable in how he’s orchestrating us. This isn’t about you, Jeff, he says. This is for Alex, for his pleasure. If you want to rebuild your trust with Alex, I think this is a good step, but it’s up to you. Ben said.
Jeff takes the cock cage and looks it over. I could tell he was unsure, feeling it, seeing how it would fit him. Still unsure, he slips it on, slowly locking the device with the small key, and gives the key to Ben. The key disappears into Ben’s closed fist, and I watch the gesture with a mixture of fascination and something I can’t quite name.
Jeff stands there, the cage secured around him, and the reality of what’s just happened settles over the room like a physical thing. “Good,” Ben says, and the approval in his voice makes my cock twitch. “Now come here.”
Jeff moves toward Ben, and I am tracking every movement, every shift of muscle and skin. The cage catches the lamplight as Jeff walks, a glint of steel between his thighs that speaks to a surrender I didn’t expect to find so arousing.
Ben guides Jeff onto the bed, positioning him on his back with a gentleness that contrasts sharply with the control he’s exerting. Ben tells me to come closer and I move towards them, he positions himself between Jeff’s spread thighs, and I watch as Ben’s hand wraps around Jeff’s caged cock, stroking the steel with a deliberate slowness that makes Jeff’s hips jerk upward. The cage prevents any real hardening or relief, and Jeff’s breathing turns ragged.
“Touch him,” Ben says, his eyes never leaving Jeff’s face. “I want to see you touch him while he’s like this.”
I move closer, my hand trembling slightly as I reach out. The warmth of Jeff’s skin beneath my hand grounds me, makes this real in a way that feels almost too much. I run my hand across Jeff’s chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat, and lean down to kiss him. Jeff’s mouth is desperate against mine, all tongue and need, the kind of kissing that speaks to deprivation.
Ben’s hand continues to feel Jeff’s caged cock, his other hand tracing under Jeff’s ass, stroking the sensitive skin there with a deliberate pressure that makes Jeff arch upward. I watch as Jeff’s muscles tense and release, watching the way Jeff’s face contorts with pleasure and frustration in equal measure.
“He likes that,” Ben observes, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. “Look how responsive he is.”
I don’t respond, too caught up in the moment, in the sight of Jeff, laid bare like this, literally and figuratively. The cage is a stark reminder of the control Ben has claimed, not just for him but for me as well, and somehow, impossibly, it’s working. Jeff’s breathing is ragged, his skin flushed, and when I run my hand down Jeff’s stomach, he feels the tremor running through him.
Ben withdraws his hand from Jeff’s caged cock and moves it lower, spreading Jeff’s thighs wider with a commanding touch. “I want you to fuck your boyfriend’s mouth he says to me.” I move my legs over Jeff’s head, my hard cock rubbing against his lips. He opens his mouth and swallows my cock without hesitation. Ben moves behind me, and I feel my ass spreading open with a possessiveness that makes me catch my breath. I’m acutely aware of the position I’m in, Jeff’s mouth around my cock, Ben behind me, the cage glinting between Jeff’s thighs. It’s overwhelming in the best possible way.
I hear the nightstand drawer open again and the soft sound of a bottle being uncapped. The anticipation of Ben fucking me so close to Jeff is making my cock throb harder in his mouth.
“That’s it,” Ben murmurs, his voice low and rough. He is prepping my ass with the lube, fuck, I feel Ben’s cock pressing against my hole, and there’s a moment of resistance before Ben pushes inside. The stretch is intense, demanding, and I stay still for a moment. I start thrusting into Jeff’s mouth again as Ben begins to slowly fuck me. The rhythm is complicated, three of us finding our way to get in sync, it’s messy and desperate and perfect.
Jeff’s hands grip my hips, anchoring himself as much as he’s trying to control the pace, but it’s Ben who’s orchestrating this, building up the rhythm. Ben’s pace quickens, every thrust pushing my cock into Jeff’s mouth, and I feel the intensity building.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Ben breathes against his back, his hands gripping my hips with a possessiveness that makes my skin prickle. Ben’s cock drives deeper, and I try to steady myself against the headboard to keep from collapsing onto Jeff’s face.
Jeff makes a sound around my cock, something between a moan and a whimper, and the vibration sends a jolt of pleasure through my body. I’m acutely aware of how constrained Jeff must feel, how the cage is preventing any relief, how Jeff is completely at our mercy, and I am loving it. Ben’s rhythm becomes almost punishing, each thrust driving deeper, and I feel the edge approaching with an intensity that’s almost frightening.
Jeff’s mouth works around my cock with a desperation that speaks to his own frustration, trapped as he is in the cage, unable to cum, unable to do anything but take what we’re giving him.
“Close?” Ben asks, his voice rough against my shoulder. It’s not really a question; Ben already knows the answer, can feel it in the way my body is tensing, in the way my breathing has turned to gasps.
I can’t answer, can’t do anything but hold on to the headboard and let the pleasure overcome me. When it hits, it hits hard, my orgasm tearing through me. I cum down Jeff’s throat, feel Jeff’s mouth swallow around me, and the world goes white for a moment, everything narrowing down to just the sensation of release, of pleasure so intense it borders on pain.
When I come down from my orgasm, I’m still buried in Jeff’s mouth, and Ben is still fucking me, chasing his own orgasm. I can feel Ben’s thrusts becoming less controlled, more urgent, and he braces himself against the headboard, letting Ben use me, letting the intensity build until I can feel his load blast inside of me.
For a moment, we stay like that, locked together in a tangle of limbs and sweat and spent desire.
To be continued..
If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Substack.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
