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Jeremy couldn't stop thinking about it – the road, the fog, the people in the car going at it like no one and everyone could see – and so he brought it up that night in his hotel room when it was just the three of them sat around talking bollocks. It was a terrible idea to bring it up, of course, but Richard and James were always the people he blathered to when he was obsessed by something. (And Andy, of course, but he couldn't blather to Andy about this for all sorts of reasons.)
"It's too bad you were so far ahead during that fog," he told James during a lull in the conversation. "You missed all the excitement."
"What, the excitement of seeing Hammond shove his face into the engine so he could see to repair it?" James drawled. He was perched in the room's lone chair, on Jeremy's side of the bed, with a glass of scotch in hand.
"Piss off," said Richard, gesturing across the bed at James with two fingers and nearly spilling his beer. "Just because you haven't the eye to appreciate—"
"Even better than that," Jeremy said, interrupting the budding argument. "We weren't the only ones out there."
"We weren't?" said Richard, successfully distracted. "What were they doing?"
"Driving, probably," said James.
"Nope," Jeremy said.
"What else could they have been—" James said, and then, "Ah. Dogging?"
Jeremy nodded. "And they were properly going at it. Not just preparatory dogging."
"Preparatory dogging?" said Richard.
"Well, I don't know how one goes about it! Maybe there's a checklist!"
"There's not a checklist," said Richard, convulsing with laughter. The bed was shaking. "Honestly, Jez."
"How would you know?"
"I've been camping. That's a lot of what people go for, really."
"Really?" Jeremy said, half-scandalized and half-intrigued. "Is that what you went for?"
"A time or two," Richard said, which made Jeremy blink. He hadn't expected such an honest answer. "When I was younger, when I had someone to go with. There were a couple of places with good spots – you know, line of sight to each other – and the owners used to scare off the families with kids, because they knew what was going on." He took a gulp of beer. "I enjoyed it."
"Showing off, or watching?" said James. He had a sly smile on his face.
"Oh, showing off, absolutely," said Richard.
Jeremy rolled his eyes at James. "What did you think he was going to say?"
"One never knows," James said. "People can have unexpected depths."
"Hammond, though?"
"Oi!" said Richard. "I can have unexpected depths if I want to."
Jeremy met James' eyes and they both started sniggering.
"Oh, shut up, you two." Richard said. "Twats." But he looked more amused than annoyed as he leaned back against the pillows of the bed. Jeremy became suddenly aware of how close they were, separated only by a foot or so of hideously-floral duvet.
There was a beat, and then James said, "Bet you wouldn't be willing to prove it." He was looking down into his drink, but his voice had gone a little bit husky.
"How?" said Richard. He sounded mildly interested rather than accusatory.
"Watch."
"Watch what?"
"Me," said James. "Or Jeremy. Or both."
It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Jeremy's hand clenched hard around his glass. "Er," he said.
"You're curious, aren't you, Jez?" said James, slanting a look at him. "That's why you brought it up."
"I— well, that isn't exactly— I mean—" Jeremy stumbled to a stop and then took a deep breath, trying not to think too hard about the weight of their gazes on him. "Maybe," he blurted. God, this was an epically stupid admission to make. But then again, hadn't he built his whole life around doing epically stupid things? He wasn't drunk enough not to know what he was doing, but he was probably drunk enough to blame it on that, if everything went to hell.
And there was James' smile, which was doing strange things to his insides. "See?" James said to Richard. "He's up for it. I'm up for it. No reason why not."
Richard made a humming noise and drank more beer. "Ground rules?" he said at last. "Looking but not touching, or…?"
Both of them looked at Jeremy. "Aaaaaah," he said, because fuck, how was he supposed to respond to that?
"Looking for now," said James. "Ask before touching. Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Sounds good," said Richard.
Both of them looked at Jeremy again. "Erm," he said. "Okay." His heart was hammering. Because he hadn't— it wasn't like he hadn't seen other people's cocks before, in porn and so on. But that wasn't the same as really looking, and it certainly wasn't the same as looking at someone he knew.
"You can just watch, too, Jez," said James. "If you want. Doesn't have to be anything at all." He made it sound so easy. It was odd how so many things were difficult for James, and then there were certain things that were easy as anything. And the easy ones were never what Jeremy expected.
"I— all right." Somehow this had become about just watching James instead of watching a couple, with a woman. But that wasn't making Jeremy want it any less. He was curious, and if he was going to indulge that curiosity, here was the safest place to do it. These were the safest people to do it with.
James drained his scotch and set the glass aside, then leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. He ran his hands down over his thighs, then cupped himself through his jeans and gave a slow rub. A faint click told Jeremy that Richard had put his drink down as well, so he hurried to follow suit. Once he'd done it, though, he had no idea what to do with his hands. He settled for putting them down on the duvet on either side of him.
Watching James rub himself was far more exciting than Jeremy had anticipated. There wasn't even anything to see yet except for the small but unmistakable movement of his hand, the way his eyes had fluttered shut. There was a rhythm to it, a faint flexing of his hips up into the touch, and then a jagged shiver as he suddenly pressed down, hard. Jeremy bit his lip.
James was definitely getting hard now – that much was obvious – and the bulge of his jeans was tantalizing. The fabric was a bit like the fog, softening the edges of what they were actually doing until it didn't seem quite so mental as it might have done.
Jeremy was getting hard, too. There was something about the look on James' face, the way his lips had parted just slightly and a flush was spreading up his neck. Jeremy wasn't used to seeing that look on him; it was as thrilling as it had been on any woman he'd ever known.
Eventually James unbuckled his jeans and drew down the zip. He pushed his hand down into the vee of the parted flaps, cupping himself with only his boxers in the way. His breath sped up, and his flush deepened, dark and hot in sharp contrast to the white of his hair.
It was like watching sex – not just because gentleman's parts were involved, but also because of the innate sensuality of the moment, because James was really letting go. Because it was intimate, and sex was intimate even when it was quick, even when it was bad, even when it was we're-drunk-might-as-well-one-night-only.
Even when it was deeply-inadvisable-wanking-coworkers-oh-god-what-am-I-doing.
James kept up his teasing a while longer, rocking up into his palm or stroking his fingertips slowly up over the thin fabric of his boxers. The only sound in the room was three men's heated breaths, the little shift of fabric against fabric as someone moved.
By the time James actually got his cock out, Jeremy was greedy for it. Because, okay, maybe he had spent just a little bit of time looking at cocks when he was watching porn. Maybe he'd been curious about that, too – about how it must feel for the woman, having something fill her up, mouth or cunt or even arse. About whether someone else's would taste different from his own.
Maybe things were a little bit more complicated than he'd ever let himself admit.
James' cock was thick and strong, flushed pink and wet already in his hand. There was nothing particularly beautiful about it, in an objective sense, and yet Jeremy felt himself flush.
"Nice," Richard said, sounding breathless, and Jeremy jerked his gaze over only to discover that Richard had got himself out, too, and was rubbing his thumb over the tip of his cock with a slow, shuddering movement.
Fuck.
"He's not showing off, remember?" James said, and Jeremy turned back with a start, feeling guilty. But James was smiling wryly. "Difficult for him, I know."
"Oi!" said Richard, but this time Jeremy kept his eyes on James.
"Are you— Have you two—"
James shook his head. "No." He paused and gave himself a slow stroke, then said, "But I've thought about it."
Richard sucked in a faint breath.
"And I thought about it with you, Jez," James added. "That all right?"
Jeremy licked his lips. "Yeah." With a rush of daring, he reached down and unzipped his jeans; the sound of it was surprisingly loud in the hushed atmosphere of the room.
James made a humming noise of encouragement, and it was enough to let Jeremy push away his panic and tug down his jeans and his pants. He was achingly hard, his cock sticky with precome, and the cool air of the room made him shiver.
"Nice," James said. Jeremy's cheeks heated with a sharp flush.
"Don't take the piss," he said harshly, covering himself up with a shaking hand.
"I'm not," James said, reaching out a hand towards Jeremy's leg and then drawing it back before it quite connected. "I'd touch you," he added. "If you'd let me." His face was still red and his breath was uneven, but he sounded almost calm. "You don't have to do anything. You could just let me touch you."
Jeremy swallowed. He could hear Richard's heavy breathing beside him, but he didn't dare turn and look. "What if I want to? Do something, I mean."
"Jez," James said. His eyes had gone very dark. "You can do whatever you want."
Jeremy had to close his eyes. "You'll inflate my head if you go on like that," he said, which made both of them laugh.
"I'd rather he inflated something else," said Richard. James rolled his eyes, but Jeremy turned to flash Richard a smile. Richard had his shirt rucked up, exposing the warm, taut stretch of his stomach, and he was stroking his hand over it absently. Jeremy had a sudden vision of himself kissing that skin, or maybe rubbing his cock against it, leaving trails of precome.
Richard caught him watching and traced a slow, deliberate path down the line of his stomach.
"Unexpected depths proving expectedly shallow, I see," said James.
"Hmph," Richard said, but he was smiling. "Where d'you want me, then?"
"Trade places," said James. "You'll get a good view, I assure you."
"Yeah, all right."
The two of them shuffled around, leaving Jeremy to sit alone for a long moment. Then James was stretched out on the bed beside him, very very close, and Richard was settled in the chair, legs parted. Jeremy met his eyes and shuddered at the look in them.
"Jez—"
Jeremy looked down at James. His heart was thundering so hard that he could barely think, but he looked down and put out a hand to touch James', just briefly. "Promise me something," he said. "Both of you."
"What?"
"Promise me you won't regret this in the morning." Because this was moving beyond curiosity, beyond watching, beyond just playing around.
"I promise," James said.
"Hammond?"
"Oh, I definitely promise," Richard drawled, and when Jeremy looked up at him again, he was wearing a decidedly smug grin. "James isn't the only one who's thought about this, you know."
"I can't believe I'm the only one who hasn't been thinking dirty thoughts!" Jeremy blurted.
"Yes, usually you're the first one to go for the penis," said James. "And yet."
Jeremy flicked him two fingers. "Sod off."
"Maybe in a bit, if you're up for it," James said; it was flippant, but Jeremy still felt himself go hot all over.
"James…"
"Stop thinking," James said. Jeremy wanted to say something rude in reply, but then James reached over and took hold of his cock, and suddenly he could barely think at all.
"Yeah," James said, in that same nearly-calm voice. Jeremy was beginning to realize that it wasn't calm at all – it was James trying desperately to keep himself from running out of control.
Jeremy licked his lips. "You can— fuck." James had started stroking him, slowly at first and then more firmly.
"Good?"
"Yeah." That was an understatement. He might have chalked it up to the beer, or the novelty of the 'let's explore dogging' situation, or to the fact that he hadn't had sex in months. But there was a small, insistent part of his brain that reminded him that it did actually matter who he was having sex with. It mattered that the expression of desire was on James' face – and Richard's – and not someone else.
He tipped his head back against the wall, spreading his legs a little to give James more room to maneuver. James rewarded him with a twist of his hand, a press of his thumb over the head of Jeremy's cock that made him shudder. "God."
"Make it slick," Richard said. "He'll like that, I bet."
James snorted, but lifted his hand just enough to lick his palm before he started stroking Jeremy again. Jeremy groaned. "Fuck."
"Christ, you look good," James murmured. "Can I kiss you?"
The idea was both more and less alarming than the fact that James' hand was on his cock. "Yes," Jeremy said. The word was barely out of his mouth before James was there, his lips soft, his breath warm and smelling faintly of beer. He was obviously trying to keep it careful but Jeremy found himself deepening the kiss, parting his lips and kissing into James' mouth. James moaned, low and shaky.
"Mmm, that's right," Richard said. "James likes you a bit pushy, Jez."
"Shut up," James muttered, but he didn't pull back from the kiss and he didn't deny the statement.
Jeremy hesitated for a moment, his brain spinning with Are we doing this, are we really doing this? but abruptly he decided he was done being nervous. Yeah, we’re doing this, he said to himself, the thought sharp enough to break through the fog, and reached up and put a hand in James' hair, pulling him in closer.