The cabin is small, and smaller with all three of them in it; the air inside is hot and steaming but the sweat rolling down Tim's back, down Peter's, too, is chilled by the tiny open window and the sliver of cool autumn air pouring through.
He breathes it in, deep, deep into his lungs and snaps his hips forward, harder, slower, grinding into Peter's ass and relishing the grunt he gets, the tightening around his cock; it's the only thing Peter can do now, anyways, mouth occupied by Danny, Peter swallowing his cock down dutifully, just like they'd trained him, all the way to the base and choking (Danny likes it when Peter chokes, when Tim does too, somewhat out of a sadistic streak but also he'd admitted, it was uniquely human, and something he couldn't do himself anymore).
Danny goes slower than Tim, thrusting gently but fully into Peter's throat, shushing the older man - he tugs at his short hair, because Peter likes that, runs a finger along wet eyelashes. Tim eyes him up, Peter solid and thick all around him but Danny is beautiful too, even like this, with his skin patched but each aspect of it perfect and smooth, despite the scars and staples running along his neck and joints. He wants to lean forward, to kiss Danny, to bite down on the hard, unforgiving plastic of his fingers, wants to have Danny lick off the sweat on his own body; but that can come later. Peter is the main course of the night, gasping and close between the two of them, and Tim slaps at the thick flesh of his flank just because he can, just to see the reddening spot. He does it again, and again, each time Peter clenching down on him wonderfully so.
"You're so much more - ah - endearing, all shut up like this, you know."
"Isn't he just?" Danny tilts his head, considering the redness of Peter’s usually colourless face, patting him gently on the cheek. "Do you think he can come like this?" Peter groans, palms slipping on sheets damp with sweat.
"Aw, I think he can manage, slut like him." Tim feels up Peter's back, his stomach, trails a hand along his dribbling cock, before grasping at his trembling thighs. "He'd better, anyways. 'Cause you’re just a toy for us, isn't that right?” This, he says as he leans down, scratching Peter behind the ear. "Toys don’t get to touch themselves."
Danny nods excitedly, hips stuttering, because Tim's told this to Danny before too, knows that Danny's been used and filled and ignored to his heart’s content and more, and it thrills his brother to be on the opposite side every once and while.
"Do they, Peter?"
Peter shakes his head, as much as he can, anyways, eyes half-closed and blinking as he swallows again around Danny's cock, gaining a small gasp from him.
"Good boy." Patting him on the cheek once, twice, Tim returns his hands to Peter's thighs, intent on dragging Peter's orgasm out of him, pounding on that one spot again and again. He leans over, close himself, bites down on the thick flesh of Peter's back, another mark for the collection, drags his tongue over sweat and purple bruising. Peter is heaving below him, short of air because Danny's got him by the throat, now; and Tim drives in as hard and deep as he can, eyes closing and he presses his forehead, his body, all of him into Peter, Peter, coming into his body and shivering.
Peter follows a second afterwards, the thick heat of Tim's seed doing it for him, filling him, and he drags his mouth off of Danny's cock to shout, to press his head against the sheets and come over his stomach and below, shuddering, sensitive and numb all at once. He's gasping for air and too exhausted to roll away from Tim, softening inside of him but still holding on, now dragging Peter to his knees, exposed all the way for Danny - Danny, who none-too-gently drags a hand through Peter's hair, turning his blotchy face this way and that, stroking himself with his other hand. He decides to come on Peter's face, to paint over his eyes and mouth, milking himself until he's oversensitive.
Peter licks his lips; Danny and Tim help him with the rest, Danny licking Peter's face and then kissing him, sharing his taste, Tim simply scooping up the rest of Danny's come and feeding it to Peter, until his face is wet and clean.
To Peter's chagrin both brothers are cuddlers, and like to cling to him after these sessions (for some reason not just each other, but Tim seems to think it’s for Peter's benefit, or something, and Danny will do whatever Tim wants anyways). He always ends up allowing it, skin crawling but settling, gently, slowly, as the night climbs on and Danny and Tim whisper to one another, sometimes about Peter, praising him, which makes him feel strange inside; but usually about inane things, sightseeing and rivers, things that he can well enough ignore but still enjoy the murmuring around him, a foggy sense that he can dig into despite no longer being able to call into his own.
They sleep, content upon the waves.
Written for the og dannytim server in 2019, I believe. Set in an unspecific time in an unspecific limbo, probably when they're all supposed to be dead. I like to imagine Peter alone on a smaller boat, coming across Tim and Danny kayaking somewhere in the ocean, where they certainly shouldn't be.