Title: Pair Royal
Fandom: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV)
Characters: Grant, Jonathan, Arabella
Rating: NC-17
Content notes: no warnings apply. PWP (pegging, voyeurism, threesome).
Length: 850
Author note: part of the General Arabella 'verse; thanks to sevenswells, theicescholar and owl_by_night for encouraging conversations about the central idea for this story. A pair royal is defined as a set of three cards of the same denomination, and scores six points.
Summary: Arabella cut the pack and drew the Knave of Hearts. “Pair royal,” she said. “I win.”



“Two for his heels,” said Grant with satisfaction, and laid the Knave of Clubs on the counterpane at the foot of the bed.

“Two, and a pair,” Jonathan said, producing the Knave of Diamonds with a grin. “Beat that if you can, Bell.”

It was Grant who had shuffled the cards, so that no-one could accuse Jonathan of cheating. (They had begun with dice, but abandoned them after the last time.)

Arabella cut the pack and drew the Knave of Hearts. “Pair royal,” she said. “I win.”

The glint in her eye made Jonathan’s pulse quicken. What would she do, or have them do, for her pleasure this time? Not much remained untried between the three of them after the last few weeks.

“I think I shall have Major Grant while you watch, Jonathan,” she said, as if considering the bill of fare for dinner.

“Fuck,” said Jonathan, startled. How had he not thought of that before? As so often in these matters, the way her mind worked left him in awe.

Grant said nothing, but bowed his head in acknowledgement of Arabella’s command. He was already in his stockinged feet; now he removed his waistcoat and breeches and stripped to his shirt. His prick was half-hard, and grew harder as Jonathan gazed at it. Jonathan’s mouth watered.

“My husband will prepare you, Major,” said Arabella.

Jonathan nearly staggered, so fierce was the pang of desire that shot through him at that. Grant knelt on the bed on all fours. His skin was hot under Jonathan’s hands. Jonathan stroked Grant’s back and his thighs, and squeezed his arse, parting him and holding him open. He would have liked to put his mouth there, but he did not think this was what Bell had in mind.

He took a handful of grease and rubbed it around Grant’s entrance. Grant squirmed at the sensation and his breath caught as Jonathan opened him with his fingers. Dear god, he was so hot there. The thought of pushing into him, of fucking him, made Jonathan’s prick tight as a drum.

“Jonathan.” Bell’s voice made him turn around.

She had stripped to her chemise and fastened the dildo in place. As always, the sight of her wearing it took his breath away. She liked to taunt him with it sometimes, to remind him that her prick was always ready for a fucking and could not lose its stand. He wondered if she would do the same now to Grant, but she did not.

“Is he ready?”

“Yes,” Jonathan said, drawing away reluctantly from Grant.

“Sit, then,” Bell said, gesturing to the ottoman, “and watch.”

He wanted very badly to undo his breeches and touch himself, but knew he must not. They were so very beautiful together. He ached to be both of them at once: to fuck Grant, to be fucked by Bell.

Arabella slicked up the dildo and pushed into Grant, slowly at first, with those shallow thrusts that always made Jonathan moan and beg for more. Grant did not beg, but gave a quiet gasp when at last she went deeper. He was red-faced and sweating, his prick dark with blood. Bell was flushed and dishevelled, her eyes sparkling as she thrust harder.

Jonathan licked his lips. He wanted to suck and fondle her breasts, to tongue at her hard nipples. He wanted to lick the shining moisture from the tip of Grant’s prick, to have Grant fuck his mouth while Bell fucked him. He groaned, and shut his eyes, tormented with desire.

“Jonathan,” Bell said again, and there was a sharpness in it this time. “You must keep watching, or I’ll stop.”

He opened his eyes. She was barely moving, rocking against Grant, whose thighs trembled with strain.

“Please, Bell, I – may I –” If he did not touch one of them now, he thought he would go mad.

“You may kiss him,” she said, and began to move again.

Grant kissed him as if he was starving. He bit at Jonathan’s lip and sucked his tongue, making him moan. Jonathan could feel the shivers that went through him with each new thrust from Bell. Grant must be very close to his crisis, but it was a thing almost unknown for him to reach it without his prick being touched.

“Please,” Grant muttered between kisses, “please.”

“Take him in your hand,” Bell said, panting.

Grant hissed an indrawn breath as Jonathan grasped his prick and began to bring him off. Christ, the weight and feel of him in Jonathan’s hand, so good, and the way he shuddered and cursed when Jonathan twisted his fingers and curved his palm over the head –

“Good,” Bell gasped, thrusting harder and deeper. “Now.”

Grant cried out and spent, hot and wet over Jonathan’s fist. He collapsed, panting, face down on the bed.

Jonathan’s breeches were tight to bursting; he felt half sick with lust. He wiped his hand on the sheet and gazed dizzily at Bell.

She smiled back at him, her eyes alight with triumph. “So, Jonathan, it is your turn now. What is your will?”