<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans">Kais was thinking that Isaiah's thoughts were blindly done as a way to appease Dylan. He was capable of putting his foot down when he wanted to, and he tried to put Kais' thoughts at ease by sliding his body into his lap. They moved to the bedroom, and Isaiah wasn't oblivious to the shifting tides of a man's mood. It was just usually Dylan who was volatile, but Kais appeared to be the one who was getting irritated. His hands tried to sooth it out of Kais, but Isaiah was coming to the quick conclusion that this was a bad idea.<br/>
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“Isaiah likes to argue before he fucks,” Dylan informed Kais after his statement, and Isaiah worried how the two would continue to behave in the same bed with one another. The room was getting heated but in all the wrong ways. They were kissing next, and Isaiah wondered how someone could go from irritation to kissing like that. They were a sight, more so Kais was, and really, Isaiah truly had no qualms about being pinned down between them. They shifted around, and Kais ended up in the middle.<br/>
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“Dylan, the lube,” Isaiah told him, expecting him to get up to retrieve it. When he did, it allowed him and Kais a brief exchange. Isaiah slid back over him, littering kisses along his jawline.<br/>
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“Calm down, Kais. I know what I'm doing,” Isaiah spoke to him.<br/>
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“Fuck me like you did before. Show him how it's done. Nothing will make him angrier,” he whispered into his ear. If Dylan wanted a threesome so bad, Isaiah would give him one he'd certainly be sure to remember, and maybe after that, Dylan would never demand another one again. He couldn't compete with Kais, not by a long shot. Maybe it was petty, but Kais had asked for his permission, and he didn't think it such a big deal. Generally, Isaiah liked sex just fine. He more than just liked it with Kais, and crawling back into bed with him now that they weren't under direct threat was hardly the worst offer he'd had.<br/>
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“I want to. Really, it's fine. If I hadn't I would have walked. I told you I'm not in the mood for any more bullshit. I'll leave with you if you want. Just say the words.” He wasn't angry from before, but the night wasn't unfolding the way he had planned. Kais didn't seem fond of Dylan in the slightest, and Isaiah didn't want it to be a miserable experience for him either.<br/>
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“When he comes back, tell him you want him to sit and watch,” Isaiah told him, pointing to the cushioned reading chair beside the end table. Dylan liked to watch, and would likely do so if Kais asked. He knew he'd fly off the handle if it was something Isaiah insisted himself, and he was also unaware of Kais' coercive capabilities. Dylan returned from the bathroom, lube in hand, and Isaiah crawled over Kais to snatch it from him, waiting until Kais made his 'request'.<br/>
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Dylan raised his brows, the idea seductive enough that he didn't protest. He propped his feet up on the end table.<br/>
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“Go on boys. Put on a show for me then.” Likely, he thought he was going to be able to get in on the action afterwards, but Isaiah was entertaining the idea of leaving the man high and dry right after he and Kais finished. He was still angry from earlier, and maybe it was petty, but they'd gotten themselves into this situation. It made sense to make the best of it. Likely if he knew how the two were going to react to one another, he would have just asked Kais to go somewhere and talk. Preferably someplace with coffee, since no matter the scenario Isaiah was unlikely to actually get to sleep that night.<br/>
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Isaiah didn't have to act with Kais. His reactions were as pure as they came, the man adjusting to the subtle shifts of Isaiah's body, giving him what he truly craved without him asking for it. Like before, he was vocal with his praise. It was something he wasn't regularly with Dylan, because only occasionally did he actually accomplish something praiseworthy. Isaiah hoped this taught him a lesson. He looked back to where Dylan was sitting, the man's lips pursed, and just as Isaiah thought, Dylan wasn't enjoying himself. He was quiet too, which told Isaiah he was genuinely angry. Finally, he was getting the message, and the barbed words from earlier were driven deeper. Isaiah wasn't the one broken and unresponsive. It had more to do with the operator. They'd finally managed to shut him up, and Isaiah reckoned he'd have to answer for it later, but in that moment he didn't care.<br/>
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Isaiah wrapped arms around Kais' shoulders and went along for the ride, raking nails across his back to hold on. Somewhere, Dylan must have realized what had happened. After all, his boyfriend was in his bed, getting pounded by another man, and he wasn't playing by Dylan's rules any longer. Dylan wasn't in control of Kais, or Isaiah, and clearly, he had a problem with it. Isaiah arched his back off the bed, entirely unfocused on anything that wasn't Kais.<br/>
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“Mm, Kais,” he panted, “It's too much.. From before.. Slow down.” Everything was oversensitive, and the man was threatening to wring another mind-blowing orgasm from him. His body was coiling tight, his thighs squeezing around Kais' sides. Isaiah didn't notice when Dylan got up, not until he felt his hand on his thigh and his eyes snapped open.<br/>
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“Seeing you like this,” Dylan started, his tone soft. “You look like the whore your father said you were.”<br/>
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Isaiah went rigid, paused for a moment, before sliding from beneath Kais and launching himself at Dylan's throat. If Dylan was angry before, Isaiah was positively furious, and he was going for blood. He knocked him and Dylan both back off the bed with a resounding crack of bone on hardwood. His nails dug into Dylan's neck where they were wrapped around his throat, leaving a streak of blood when the younger man pulled himself off the other. Beyond fury, he looked upset, and a bit disbelieving that Dylan would hit on such a very sore subject.<br/>
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“Kais, it's time to go, I think,” Isaiah spoke, stumbling into his pants. He was shaking with rage, unable to cast another look to Dylan. The sex had been ruined, just moments before completion, but there would be no salvaging it where they were at. Not after that. Very few things actually bothered Isaiah, but Dylan knew exactly where to aim. The man in question was watching him from the floor, propped up on his elbows, breathing heavily as his lungs tried to make up for the lack of oxygen. If he wasn't wearing steaks of blood and his head wasn't pounding from where it had hit the floor, he might have looked satisfied with himself.</span></span>