Part 1
I love the mountains.
They're strong, they're soothing, they're majestic, and even though I'm lucky if I get to see them once a year, I always feel like a part of me clicks into place as soon as I'm back in their presence.
So, as you can imagine, I was in a pretty good mood when I deboarded my plane in Denver International Airport and began the long walk to the Light Rail station and baggage claim.
After months of comparing calendars and missing each other’s free weekends, I was finally making good on my promise to visit Sam and Marcus. I'd wanted to make it happen sooner, but after Mackinac Island, the rest of the summer had flown by. Fall wasn't any slower, and before I knew it, I was busy seeing family for the holidays. I couldn't believe how quickly six months had come and gone, and I was starting to get worried that, if I didn't make more of an effort, if I didn’t show them I was serious about accepting, their invitation might expire.
And so, as soon as Christmas ended, I texted Marcus, suggested this weekend in February – to which he excitedly agreed – and bought my flight. Three days of beer, snow, and catching up with my best friends.
I was so excited.
It was a little weird, I thought, stepping off the train in the main terminal, calling them my best friends. Not weird, I suppose, just new. Clumsy. After college, Marcus and I had always stayed close, but given our geographic distance and the lack of chances to get together, I hadn't considered him one of my closest friends anymore. And Sam, well, I'd only met him once. But after our weekend together last summer, Marcus and I had only grown closer. We texted pretty much every day and never seemed to tire of our interactions. Sam and I had connected – following each other on social media, texting back and forth, really fleshing out a friendship of our own. After months of this, I couldn't think of two people I could possibly be more excited to see.
I got the feeling it was mutual, too. As soon as I'd confirmed the dates with Marcus, I'd received a text from Sam asking “YOU'RE COMING?????” Just like that. All caps, and question marks for days. I’d smiled fondly and told him that I was, that the weekend was set and the plane tickets were bought. From there I'd actually done most of the planning with him. Love Marcus to death, but he's never been what you'd call a planner.
As we talked, Sam had tossed out plenty of suggestions – breweries to visit, restaurants to try, mountains we could hit on Saturday that weren't too far a drive and wouldn't break the bank for a lift ticket. It was also him who'd suggested I take the train into the city, where he'd meet me at Union Station and walk with me back to their apartment.
They’d moved in together back in late September, some cool new loft downtown. I guess, with traffic and all, the train was actually faster than driving and the ten dollar ticket was a hell of a lot cheaper than trying to Uber. So I'd happily agreed, told Sam I'd see him at the station, and left it at that.
-- -- --
The train crawled into Union Station just as thick snowflakes began to drift down from the gray clouds above. It was cold – just like one expects in Denver in the heart of February – and the gray gloom made everything feel quiet and still. I'd checked the forecast compulsively all week, and I was happy to see the mountains had received a fresh blanket of snow in the days leading up to my arrival, meaning we should be primed for some solid shredding tomorrow.
As the train stopped, I grabbed my duffle bag from the luggage rack and made my way out onto the platform, bracing slightly against the cold. I saw people entering and exiting one of the large, double doors of Union Station, so I started to walk that way, scanning faces in the crowd for Sam. I was halfway to the doors when I heard my name.
“DREW!”
I turned and saw him. Sam. Looking at me with an excited smile, waving his hand over his head. I returned the smile, threw an arm over my head to let him know I’d seen him, and took off in his direction.
“You made it!” He said as I approached, swallowing me up in the biggest, burliest hug I'd ever received. Even here on a concrete platform he smelled of cinnamon and fresh-cut wood.
“I did,” I said into his shoulder. “I'm so glad I'm here, man!”
“Me too,” he beamed as we pulled apart. “It's been so long, I wasn't sure you'd ever make it!”
“I know, I'm sorry. I really tried to make it happen sooner!”
“Well, you're here now. That's all that matters. Shall we?”
He reached down to pick up my duffle bag, tossing it effortlessly over his shoulder.
“I can carry my bag,” I insisted.
“Nonsense!” He smiled. “What kind of hosts would we be?”
“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes, but deep down I was flattered by the hospitality, the chivalry of it all.
It was a short walk to their apartment, about ten minutes from the platform. We chatted as we went, partially to catch up and partially to distract ourselves from the cold. I couldn’t stop myself from stealing glances at him as we walked. In all these months apart, I’d almost forgotten the energy he carried, the quiet gravity that, despite his quiet demeanor, made him impossible to ignore.
He looked every bit the Denver resident. He wore a copper colored beanie, dark plaid flannel, and his broad build was amplified by his winter coat. His beard looked a little longer, thicker, but no less well-maintained. Just a little burlier for winter, giving off that Mountain Man energy he’d carried even at the beach. I couldn’t help but feel that I was seeing him in his element.
As we turned the corner onto a particularly windy street, I asked how they liked the apartment so far, to which Sam said it was great.
“It's crazy, man. It's got a full-size gym, a co-working office space, a pool, two hot tubs, and a Whole Foods on the bottom floor.”
“Damn,” I nodded. “Sounds like an urban utopia.”
“Right?” Sam laughed.
As we approached the building, I saw he wasn't exaggerating about the Whole Foods. We walked just past the end of the store to an unassuming glass door. Sam tapped his phone against a panel and the door unlocked with a loud click. He led us through the lobby – which felt more like a swanky hotel than most swanky hotels I've stayed at – to the elevator block, and up to the twelfth floor. I was still thawing from our cold walk over as he let me into their apartment.
“Dang,” I marveled. It was nice. High ceilings, exposed brick, modern fixtures. It was everything you might imagine when you picture downtown living.
“Yeah,” Sam nodded proudly. “We've liked it.”
He gave me a quick tour – bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, all the basics. Marcus was still at work, he informed me, but was trying to duck out a little early. Sam had front-loaded his shifts earlier in the week so that he could get the place ready for my arrival. He’d done a good job.
The place felt like an Architectural Digest tour you see online. It was simply furnished but everything felt so intentional and beautiful and masculine. It didn't surprise me that a gay couple would have a stylish apartment; I would’ve been more surprised if I’d walked in to find a place that looked like mine, all second-hand furniture and bare walls. I was a little surprised, however, to see glimpses of their sexuality show up in their decor. For instance, a pencil sketch of a male nude hung in the bathroom; a book of male photography sat atop the dresser; even the coffee table featured a book of vintage photographs of same-sex couples, right there in the living room for all to see.
It wasn't just the presence of these elements that surprised me, it was the fact they existed in the first place. My apartment barely showed traces of my personality, much less something as personal or intimate as this. I admit it made me feel a little silly. Obviously I knew Sam and Marcus were gay – I’d experienced that firsthand – but in the recent months conversing with them, I’d sort of started thinking of them like any of my buddies, just really solid guys I enjoyed and admired. But here, staring up at me from the coffee table, was a reminder that they weren’t just one thing or the other, they were both.
Suddenly, I imagined them buying these items, finding the pencil sketch online or coming across the book of nudes at a bookstore. It made me feel a little more aware of how Sam and Marcus existed in the real world, of how that world looked differently from mine. It felt isolating, exposing this part of them I wasn’t sure I’d ever understand, but it also piqued my interest. It suddenly made me rethink our plan for the weekend – Sam had made an effort to take me places I would like to go, but I found myself more curious in seeing their stomping grounds.
I filed this away to revisit after dinner.
After the tour, I dropped my stuff in the living room.
“And you’re sure you're okay with the couch?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, it's fine, really,” I insisted.
“Good. I mean, it's super comfortable, I just feel bad not having a better offer.”
“Don't worry about it, man. I'm just happy to be here.” I plopped down dramatically on the sofa and immediately sank into the fluffy cushions. It was like the whole thing was a pillow. “Oh yeah. This’ll be great.”
“Okay, good,” Sam said, relieved.
It was funny seeing him like this. Excitable. Maybe a little nervous. Not about me, I'm sure, just about playing host to a first-time visitor. I knew how he felt, I was also a little nervous suddenly being here, in their home, in their space. The hotel, even though it had been their room, was reliably neutral territory. But this…this was their home. It was strangely intimate, especially considering what all had transpired the last time I saw them. I realized, even though we'd stayed in touch since that weekend at the wedding, we hadn't really talked about what happened. Sleeping together. All three of us. And now, sitting on the couch across from Sam, the shadow of it fell over us, buzzing in the air like a fly that followed us in from the street.
“Want a beer?” he asked, jolting me back to reality.
“Yes please.”
-- -- --
“WHERE IS HE??”
I heard Marcus's voice echo through the apartment as soon as the front door opened. Sam and I both laughed at the interruption, unsurprised by the histrionics of it all.
“He's in here,” I answered, standing up from the couch.
“DREW!”
I'd barely turned around when I felt his full weight smack against me like we were playing football. My arms instinctively wrapped around him, holding his weight while he clung to me like a koala to a tree. I felt his legs wrap around my waist, his arms squeezing around my shoulders, his face buried into my neck.
“Hey buddy,” I said, smiling into his shoulder.
“It's so good to see you, dude!” He exclaimed, the feeling in his voice laid bare.
I was surprised at the amount and the intensity of emotion this greeting elicited in me. I couldn't think of the last time anyone had been so excited to see me, and it caught me off guard. Made my heart swell a little. Made my voice catch a bit in my throat. Made me especially grateful to be here.
Eventually Marcus detached himself from me and climbed back down to the ground.
“So what did I miss?” He asked, looking between us. He was dressed for work, wearily olive slacks and a smart, beige sweater that looked incredibly soft. It was funny, seeing him dressed so professionally. It felt humorously out of character. But I had to admit, he looked good – still rocking a perfect haircut; still trim and healthy, even underneath his winter attire; still radiating that energetic glow he always seemed to carry like a halo.
“Nothing much,” Sam answered. “Just been having a beer and catching up.”
“Sounds nice,” Marcus smiled. “I think I need one, too.”
“How was work, babe?” Sam asked while Marcus went to the fridge.
“It was fine! Boring. Felt way too long.”
“Well, I'm glad you're here now!” I chimed in.
“Same!” Marcus plopped onto the opposite end of the couch. “I told Sam I barely know what the plan is for this weekend so I'm just as excited as if I were the one traveling.”
“Yeah, we threw out some pretty good ideas. I'm open to whatever though! Just honestly glad to be spending time with you guys again.”
“Aww,” Marcus shot me a teasing grin. “Well the feeling is mutual.”
We spent a little time unwinding in the living room, drinking beer and chatting about random nothings – how my flight went, what Marcus did at work, Sam's adventures running errands, hunting down Marcus's favorite brand of oat milk at the grocery store.
It was funny listening to them talk in this context, Marcus at work and Sam at home on his day off. It felt so…domestic. Like Sam was playing housewife on his free days, which just didn't seem to fit his whole physique. If anything, it made more sense for Marcus to be the one playing housewife, for Sam to be the corporate office guy. But I liked it, this idea of Marcus coming home from work and Sam having dinner ready on the stove. And Sam seemed happy to do it, to take care of Marcus like that. There was something so…appealing about it. So manly. Something about the dynamic that made me rethink what role I would be in a relationship.
Eventually my stomach growled, and the conversation drifted to dinner.
“I'm starving,” I confessed. “Didn't really get a lunch cuz of my flight.”
“Ah, dude, you shoulda said something when we were at the station! Coulda grabbed you some food on the wall over.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Honestly, didn't even think about it. I think I was just so excited to see you guys, I forgot I was hungry.”
Sam laughed. “Hey, I'll take that!”
“We could go to Ambler? Or walk over to Wynkoop?” Marcus suggested.
“That sounds good!” I exclaimed. “I mean, I don't know what either of those are, but if they serve food, I'm in.”
“They serve food,” Marcus smirked.
“Sounds perfect.”
-- -- --
We shuffled into the warm, amber-lit restaurant, closing the door and shutting out the cold behind us. It was swankier than I’d expected, more polished than the burger-and-beer vibes I had expected. We were shown to a booth along the back wall and settled in, perusing the menu’s near-endless supply of beer.
“What was that beer I liked so much last time, babe?” Marcus asked, scanning the list of names on the laminated card.
“Uh, the Breckenridge Blonde, I think.”
“Oh, I think you’re right. God, what would I do without you?”
I smiled to myself at this interaction, enjoying this peek into their life together, while the waiter came and took our order. Three beers appeared almost immediately after, as if manifested by our own sheer thirst, and we raised our glasses in an official toast to the weekend.
“So,” Marcus began as he sipped from his dangerously full pint glass. “What’s been new with you?”
“Not a lot,” I shrugged. “Just been busy with work. Made it through the holidays. Been getting back into the gym.”
“Yeah? I can tell. You look good.” He winked playfully across the table.
“No you can’t, I’m literally wearing a parka.”
“Well, you still look good,” Marcus smiled innocently. “Been seeing anyone?”
“There it is,” Sam laughed.
“What? That’s a normal question to ask.”
“I’m not,” I cut in, laughing. “I decided to take a break from the whole serial dating thing for a bit. Wanted to focus on me for a change.”
“Good for you, man,” Sam nodded approvingly.
“Thanks! It’s been really nice, actually.”
Marcus nodded absentmindedly, like he was lost in thought but wanted to give the appearance of listening.
“Did you, uh,” he began. “After Mackinac, did you ever, I don't know…do anything like that again?”
I felt a flutter in my chest at the entrance of this subject. After our weekend together last summer, which had resulted in the three of us having the most mind-blowing sex I'd ever had in my entire life, I'd known it was going to be addressed eventually. How could it not be?
“I, uh…sort of,” I explained, staring intently at my beer.
“How so?” Sam asked coolly.
“A few weeks after I got back, I decided to get one of those apps.”
“Which app?” Marcus asked.
“Oh…you know which one.”
“Yeah,” Marchus grinned. “But I want to hear you say it.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I got on Grindr.”
“Woo!” Marcus threw a fist in the air. “Okay, I’m satisfied, please continue.”
“You’re the worst,” I groaned. “I got on Grindr and chatted with a couple people. Ended up talking to a guy one evening when I was feeling particularly…you know. And so he came over …”
“Yeah?” Marcus encouraged.
“...and gave me a blowjob.”
Marcus’s eyebrows were raised, but the rest of his face was calm and collected. For him at least. I could see the faintest smirk appearing on his lips, which he was obviously trying to suppress.
“Damn,” he nodded slowly, the smirk steadily breaking forth. “How was it?”
“The blowjob?” I asked.
“Duh,” Marcus laughed.
“It was okay,” I admitted, chuckling nervously. Marcus cocked one eyebrow, encouraging me to continue. “It was pretty good.”
We all laughed.
“How did it all play out?” Sam asked, earnestly.
“I mean…it was pretty cut and dry. He came over to my place. We sat on the couch and were talking for a second when he just, I don't know, went for it. Reached over and started touching me. I hadn't gotten off in a minute so…I got hard pretty fast, which he noticed, and then he just sort of got to work. You know? I didn't even get my shirt off.”
“Did you do anything to him?” Marcus asked with an air of genuine curiosity.
I nodded. They waited.
“I jerked him off. After I came, I offered to return the favor. I don’t know, I felt weird about not doing anything back? He'd been, you know, touching himself while he blew me. So he just stood up and…yeah. He didn't last very long.”
“Then what happened?”
“Then he left.” I took a drink of beer, feeling the anticlimax of my story land with a dissatisfying thud. “I tried to message him again that weekend, but…when I got back on the app his profile was gone.”
“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “That happens.”
“Does it?”
“Oh yeah,” Marcus nodded emphatically. “Guys are flakes.”
“Well, that's good, I guess. Glad to know it wasn't me.”
“Dude, there's no way it was you,” Marcus insisted. “I've seen that dick, it couldn't’ve been you.”
“Gee, thanks,” I smirked.
“Sounds like you didn't really love it?” Sam observed-slash-asked.
I paused, a little surprised by the question. It certainly hadn't been the night of passion I’d expected, but I was so out of my element I hadn't felt able to genuinely answer whether or not I actually liked what happened.
“It was…fine. I mean, it felt good to get off, obviously, but the whole thing was sort of…a let down? I guess. Maybe I'd just expected more after…well, you know.”
“Hmm,” Marcus contemplated my answer while he took a sip of beer. “Did you ever try again? With anybody else?”
I shook my head.
“No, I didn't. Things got busy, to some extent, but I guess the whole Come Over and Blow Me thing just…didn't have a lot of appeal.”
Well, I'm glad it didn't go poorly but I'm sorry it didn't go well.”
“Thanks. It was fine, really. I just don't know what I had expected.” I took a drink. “Well, I guess I do…but it was probably unreasonable to expect that again.”
Sam smiled.
“I was never a fan of the random hookups, either,” he admitted.
“Really?” I asked, surprised. “I thought you guys met on Grindr.”
“We did, but we'd been having a surprisingly good conversation before we ever met up. I could tell he was…different. More than the average interaction on there, at least. So when we did meet up…it felt like something substantial.”
They looked at each other and smiled. I saw Marcus’s hand rest move gently to Sam's thigh.
“I guess I always figured gay guys just, I don't know, loved sex whenever they could get it.” I grimaced as the sentence left my mouth. “Sorry, that sounds horrible hearing it out loud.”
Sam and Marcus just laughed.
“No, that's a pretty fair generalization,” Marcus assured me. “That's definitely what it feels like for a lot of guys. But…that’s not everyone.”
“And it’s definitely okay if that's not you. No point in trying to force it,” Sam added kindly.
“Thanks.”
“So…can I ask,” Marcus said seriously. “Having been on the apps and everything, would you consider yourself…I mean, I guess, has it changed how you'd consider yourself? In that regard?”
We were interrupted by the arrival of our server carrying three full plates of food. He made a show of presenting us each with our dinners, asked after refills, did all the standard server stuff, so that by the time he walked away the seriousness of Marcus’s question had nearly evaporated. I'm sure they would've let me ignore it, forget he'd asked me anything and move the conversation along. But I didn't want to know. If anything, purely for me, I wanted to say this next part out loud.
“I don't know yet,” I said plainly. “If I'm honest, I'm a lot less certain about anything than I was six months ago, but…I'm okay with that. For now.”
“Hell yeah,” Marcus smiled.
“That's awesome, Drew,’ Sam agreed. “And, just so someone's saying it, you can always talk to us. About anything. If you need someone to process this with.”
“Yeah, dude, whatever you need,” Marcus nodded.
“Thanks guys. I'll probably take you up on that.”
-- -- --
We finished dinner and stopped by a bar down the block for another round of drinks before deciding to head back home. If we wanted to keep our mountain plans, we were in for an early morning and we all knew we'd regret a late night out.
Once back, I changed into a pair of sweatpants and plopped onto the couch, feeling heavy after the busy day. Sam appeared a few minutes later, wearing blue plaid flannels and a gray tank top that made his torso look absolutely sculpted. I tried not to stare too much as he joined me on the couch, remembering those arms wrapped around me this afternoon.
“Been watching anything good lately?” He asked, turning on the TV.
“Nah, nothing special. Just been going through Parks and Rec again.”
“Love that show,” Sam smiled.
“It's a classic.”
I barely heard Marcus enter the kitchen behind us until a cabinet door closed and the sound of running water filled the room.
“Anybody want some tea?” he asked.
“Sure, thanks babe,” Sam called over his shoulder.
“Drew?”
“What kind?”
“I've got peppermint or turmeric ginger.”
“Okay, yeah. I'll do peppermint.”
He joined us a few minutes later bearing three steaming mugs. He sat down at my right, reaching across me to hand a mug to Sam, who reclined at my left. He was wearing gray boxer briefs and one of our old fraternity sweatshirts. I couldn't help but notice the tight cords of muscle in his bare legs.
“You ever watched Broadchurch?” Sam asked.
“Don't think so,” I confessed.
“That's what we're in the middle of. We could restart it if you wanted to check it out.”
“Dude, it's so good. We're obsessed!” Marcus chimed in.
“Yeah, that's fine! But don't feel like you have to restart it for me, you can just pick up where you guys left off.”
“Oh, no, we're making you watch it,” Marcus insisted.
And with that, Sam started the first episode.
It was an engaging show, one of those English mysteries that's somehow both exciting and cozy, tense enough to keep you interested without getting you too worked up. It was a pretty perfect vibe for the cold, wintry night, and we sat there, drinking our tea, until I finally had to ask.
“So what would you guys be doing on a normal Friday night? If we didn't have to get up so early.”
“Honestly?” Marcus answered. “We'd probably be doing this.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “We try to hit the mountains at least once or twice a month, so I feel like a lot of our Friday nights have become pretty cozy.”
“Huh,” I nodded. “I don't know why, but I figured you guys would just be out on the town.”
“Really?” Sam asked.
“Well, maybe more cuz of Marcus.”
“I'm getting old, man,” he sighed dramatically, sinking into the couch beside me. We were quiet for a second before I decided to ask my real question.
“Are there any, like, gay bars in town you guys like?” I asked, my voice sounding a little too much like I was trying to be casual.
“There are one or two,” Sam answered. “But those are mostly when the mood hits.”
“Why?” asked Marcus. “Would you want to go to one?”
“I mean…” I hesitated, concentrating on the TV. “If you guys wanted to go, I'd love to tag along.”
“Well, I'd definitely be down to take you!”
“Yeah, maybe tomorrow night if we aren't too exhausted.”
“Okay,” I nodded. “Yeah, that would be fun.”
-- -- --
We got a little drowsier as we rolled into the second episode. My body felt heavy and relaxed. Marcus, catlike as ever, was curled up against my side, his knee resting unselfconsciously on my thigh. Even Sam had sunk into the sofa, his bare arm pressing against mine. And somehow, in this relaxed state, my body hummed with the energy of their closeness, with the textures of their bare skin. Bicep, shoulder, thigh; these seemingly innocuous glimpses of bodies apparently enough to ignite my memory – and my imagination – and despite my best intentions I felt myself growing hard beneath my sweats.
If anyone noticed, they said nothing, but it wasn't long until Marcus moved his hand to his briefs to adjust himself. That's when I noticed the shape of his own swollen shaft, now resting against his hip. His hand stayed on his bare thigh, fingers tracing light circles against his skin. I watched it move from the corner of my eye, hypnotized a little by its steady revolutions, until, on passing above his knee, he broke free of his usual course and moved his hand to my thigh, continuing his circles there.
My cock twitches at the sudden contact, obvious enough I knew it had the room's attention. I could feel Sam watching me on my left while Marcus continued to graze over my right leg, moving gradually upward and inward with each new pass. Soon, he traveled high enough to plainly betray the tent in my crotch, the strain of fabric against where my cock stood tall, and traveling up the steep slant of this tent he ran his palm over the head of my dick. I let out an audible breath as he did, and his hand returned to my thigh.
“Is this okay?” I heard him ask.
I nodded, unsure whether I could find the breath to answer. He took this permission anyways, leaning closer into my side and slipping his hand beneath my waistband. I inhaled sharply when he reached my cock, fingers grazing gently up its length like he was trying to read braille. My whole body responded to his touch – my eyes closing, my back pressing into the cushions, my hips lifting into the air. His fingers reached my crown, his thumb tracing along the ridge, bringing a small moan from my throat.
I felt a second hand on my chest, cupping the muscle through my shirt. Sam. I opened my eyes and looked down. Marcus's hand rose and fell beneath my sweatpants while Sam's hand moved over my abdomen, drifting downward to the hem of my shirt and slipping inside. I felt his palm against my belly, warm and soft except for a line of rough callouses beneath his fingers.
“God, that feels good,” I sighed, speaking to them both.
Marcus looked up at me and smiled, his eyes warm with affection while carrying his signature hint of mischief.
“Good,” he said gently.
Without thinking, I leaned forward and kissed him. His lips were smooth and delicate, but moved with certainty. Our tongues danced together, finding a rhythm of their own, a rhythm that synced with the motion of his hand, until we pulled apart, smiling. I turned to Sam who looked on with blatant fascination. He met my eyes and smiled, leaning forward. His lips met mine with characteristic tenderness, made more obvious by the scruffiness of his beard against my cheek. He kissed me slowly, intently, with every bit of his attention.
“Fuck yeah,” I heard Marcus whisper.
Sam and I broke apart, and I couldn't help but laugh a little, the tension finally breaking among us.
Marcus tugged at my sweatpants. I obliged him, lifting my hips off the couch. He pulled them off swiftly while Sam tugged at my shirt, and then I was naked between them.
“Fuck,” Marcus marveled. “I’ve thought about this dick so much.”
“Mmm, me too,” Sam growled.
Marcus shifted, leaned down to take me in his mouth. It was warm and wet and determined. Sam wrapped an arm around my shoulder and laid a palm across my chest, holding me against him, toying with my nipple, adding to the sensations coursing through my body. Between them, I felt like I was dissolving, melting into their touch. Every part of me felt alive and burning with energy.
“You look really good, dude,” Sam purred in my ear, eliciting another moan from my chest.
“Thanks,” I sighed. “Been working on it.”
“I can tell,” he chuckled, his voice low, his chest shaking.
We both watched with fascination as Marcus bobbed up and down, as my cock emerged from and disappeared into his mouth. His lips grazed along the shaft and his tongue swirled in with expert precision, and all I could think was that this was so much better than some stranger from an app.
“That feels so good, dude,” I moaned.
“I want a go,” Sam growled, shifting out from under me. He knelt on the ground, leaning his head in beside Marcus who pulled off just enough to give him room, but, to my surprise, didn't back away completely. My brain could hardly process it, both of their mouths on me at once. Their lips traced the sides of my shaft, tongues circling each other while they swirled around my tip. I watched them with disbelief, making out with my dick in between them. It was like something out of a video, not something that happened in real life.
“Oh my God,” I moaned. “That feels amazing.”
Marcus purred, the vibrations moving from his body into mine. I shivered at the feeling, felt it radiate down my shaft and into my very core. I could tell I was getting close. After all the anticipation, the daydreaming and fantasizing about what might happen when we all got back together, I couldn't keep it together much longer.
“Guys, I'm gonna –” I blurted out. “I don't wanna finish yet.”
I pushed them away gently. They each leaned back, Marcus wiping his lips, Sam smiling contentedly.
“Sorry,” I continued. “I didn't want to end the party too soon.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” Marcus grinned.
“We could go to our room? Get more comfortable?” Sam asked.
“Okay,” I swallowed hard. “Sure.”
-- -- --
I followed them into their bedroom, still naked, still half hard. I stood at the food of the bed and watched the two of them undress. I couldn’t deny that I’d spent hours remembering the sight of their bodies – Marcus, lean and lithe and graceful; Sam, strong and stoic and sure. Seeing them again was even better than I had imagined. There was something about them so electrifying and beautiful, some force between them that steadily pulled me in.
Marcus jumped onto the mattress, landing on his side and patting the space next to him. I started to obey, but then had an idea – instead of lying beside him, I angled myself across the width of the bed, my ribcage draped across his thighs. From this angle, I had perfect access to his dick, which was hard and twitching, resting against his belly. Without hesitating, I picked it up and licked it from base to tip.
“Fuck, Drew,” Marcus muttered. “Keep going.”
I took him in my mouth, trying to remember what I'd done before: curl the lips, flatten the tongue, open my throat. It took me a second but I soon settled into a good rhythm. And I was enjoying it. I loved the feeling of the smooth skin, the prickle of his trimmed pubes against my nose. I was so in the zone, I hardly noticed the mattress shift as Sam crawled on. He got my attention, however, when I felt his mouth on my cock.
We stayed there for a while in this triangle of shameless pleasure. Me sucking Marcus, Marcus sucking Sam, Sam sucking me. It was overwhelming. Physically, mentally, emotionally. It was like all three dimensions of myself came together and, in a way I rarely experience, I found myself entirely in the moment, entirely tuned in to the details of my experience. The sensations, the emotions, the sounds and tastes and smells.
Marcus’s smell was clean but spicy, an aroma that went straight from my nostrils to my groin. I adjusted to that pleasantly neutral taste of another guy’s cock, the light saltiness as he leaked a little on my tongue. A chorus of contented moaning filled my ears, providing proof I wasn’t doing too bad. But more than that, I felt fully attuned to one simple truth: that I wanted this. Was enjoying this. And I knew they were too.
Eventually I had to come up for air and decided to look down at Sam. I'd lifted one knee to give him better access, of which he'd taken full advantage. His tongue was now moving on my balls, lapping across my taint. I marveled at the sight of his face buried between my legs. I could feel his beard brush along my inner thigh, tickle the curve of my glutes.
“Shit,” I sighed. “I love that.”
He looked up at me and smiled, proud and feral and tender. Like making me feel good was his biggest accomplishment. As if by reflex, I leaned in, moving closer to that smile. I took his face in my hands and kissed him, our mouths crashing together with none of the gentleness from earlier. I must've taken him a little by surprise because he fell back, catching himself on his elbow and stifling a laugh. I kept going, kissing him feverishly until my mouth broke free and embarked on a journey of its own, crawling over his torso, searching for his cock. I found it and took it in my mouth greedily.
I didn't know what came over me, only that, if I were really honest with myself, I'd wanted to do this for months now. I'd thought about our night last summer countless times, jerked off to its memory more than I cared to admit, fantasized about what it would feel like to get a second go at it. Hell, I’d been hard for half my flight thinking about this moment.
Well, now I had my chance, and I didn't plan to waste it.
In my clamoring, I reversed the direction of our little triangle. I descended on Sam, and Marcus reached for me, and Sam now turned to reach for Marcus. Sam's cock felt thicker than I remembered, filling my mouth completely. His pubes were thicker but soft, brushing against my nose and filling my head with the scent of skin and musk. His balls were heavy and full, and I took them in my tongue, needing a break from swallowing his swollen shaft.
But I loved it. I loved the challenge, the unapologetic way it took up space. It was just like the rest of him, proud and confident and there. I couldn't help but love the difference in their bodies, Sam and Marcus. The skin, the hair, the smells. They were so different but also fit together so well; and somehow I fit just as perfectly between them. And being here, between them again, it was almost laughable to think I could've found something this good on some app.
I could hear Sam's moans starting to change and knew he must be getting close. Knowing this – knowing I was bringing him there – started to push me towards the edge.
“Fuck, Marcus, I'm getting close.”
“Me too,” Sam sighed.
“Mmm,” he moaned, pulling back. “You guys should come up here and give it to me then.”
I wasn't sure exactly what he meant but followed Sam's lead in moving to my knees. I crawled over Marcus, kneeling over him on one side while Sam kneeled over the other, and we both stroked ourselves furiously. Marcus looked up at us with burning eyes, stroking his own cock while his gaze darted between us.
“You guys gonna come for me?” He asked.
“Yeah,” I nodded breathlessly.
“Good,” he purred. “I want it.”
“It's all yours, babe,” Sam growled, and with a few more strokes he thrust his hips forward and started to shoot across Marcus's chest.
“Oh fuck,” I gasped as I also came across his stomach, shooting rope after rope across his abs.
“Oh yeah,” Marcus grinned wickedly. “Fuck yes.” He looked down, captivated by the sight of Sam and I painting him with our cum. With another stroke, his cock also erupted, adding to the glorious flood.
I don't know how long it took – seconds or maybe minutes – before I could see straight again. I looked down at Marcus's soaked abdomen, his chest heaving, and heard the sound of each of us catching our breath. Eventually I met Sam's eyes and we started laughing.
“Damn Drew,” he sounded impressed. “You sure you haven't been practicing?”
“I wish,” I teased. I looked down at Marcus. “You, my friend, are a mess.*
“Good. If I wasn't we didn't do it right.” He dragged a finger through the puddles on his abdomen, smiling with satisfaction. “God, you boys spoil me.”
Sam laughed. “I'll get you a towel.”
I sat back on my haunches, watching Marcus clean himself.
“I was hoping you'd want to do this again,” he admitted, soaking up the pool on his belly button.
“Are you kidding?” I asked. “I was thinking about it the whole way here. Shit, I've been thinking about it for months.”
“Honestly, same.”
“Yeah, we've…we’ve talked about it a lot,” Sam said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I hope that isn't weird to say. We just…last summer was really hot and we really enjoyed it. I know I did.”
“I did too,” I said with surprising ease. “Do you guys…sorry if this is none of my business, but do you guys do this much? With other people?”
“Like, have a third?” Sam asked.
I just nodded.
“We’d done it once or twice. Before last summer. So I think that's why we were pretty comfortable doing it with you.”
“I gotcha,” I nodded, ignoring the sour churn of jealousy brewing, unwelcomed, in my stomach. “And since then?”
They looked at each other, and for a split second the sour churn got worse. But then they laughed, and my jealousy became confusion.
“What?” I asked.
“We just…we tried once,” Marcus said, tossing the towel on the floor. “Found a guy online. We asked him to go get drinks and everything beforehand, but halfway through the evening we both just…”
“We didn't go through with it,” Sam interjected.
“Yeah,” Marcus nodded. “We didn't want to.”
“Huh.” I paused, trying to process this information. I wasn't even sure why I'd asked the question in the first place, and now I wasn't sure whether to be happy or angry I had. “Well, I hope you guys didn't hold out all this time just for me,” I teased.
“Well,” Marcus looked at Sam. “I think we kinda did.” He turned again to look at me. “And it was worth it.”
I tried to search for a snarky comeback but found nothing. Hearing Marcus say that landed in my chest in a way that made me feel both warm and uncomfortable. Appreciated yet mortified. I didn't know how to respond, either to his comment or to the swell of feelings brewing in my chest, and so, cursing myself, I faked a yawn and mentioned something about our early morning.
“Yeah, we probably should get some sleep if we want to enjoy ourselves tomorrow,” Sam added.
Marcus, looking at me with a slightly concerned brow, just nodded in agreement.
“Let me get you your bedding and everything,” Sam offered.
He retrieved a couple blankets and a pillow from the closet and walked into the living room. I followed him, picking up my clothes from the floor as I went. He mentioned a couple details about the room – how to pull the shades, how to dim the stove light, where to find a glass if I got thirsty.
“And if you need anything else, just come grab one of us.”
“I will. Thanks, Sam. Really.”
“Of course.”
“And if you get too cold out here, feel free to come warm up with us,” Marcus quipped. He'd snuck up on us, leaning against the entrance to the hallway. I couldn't quite notice his joke lacked his usual punch, almost like he'd been uncertain about saying it. Which was not like him.
“I guess I won't rule it out,” I played along.
“Well,” Sam exhaled. “Goodnight, man.”
He opened his arms and I met him in a warm hug. It was strange, such a platonic gesture while our still-naked bodies pressed together. Marcus hugged me as well, squeezing tightly around my ribcage.
“I'm really glad you're here,” he said gently.
“Me too, man.”
With that, they left the room.
I killed the lights and threw on a pair of boxers before settling in on the couch. My body felt pleasantly spent, still descending from the highs of the bedroom. But something in my chest felt…off. Tight. Uneasy. It wasn't regret, I knew that much. This was something much more complicated, more uncertain. I let the feeling linger, resting in my chest, hoping it would pass by morning. Soon, thankfully, my breathing grew heavy and, eventually, I drifted off to sleep.
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