Richard booked the same restaurant where he’d proposed to Julian a decade earlier, confident that it would jump start the passion. Same corner table, same bottle, same look across the table that said: I know how to take care of you. He raised his glass. “To ten years. To you. To everything we built.”
Julian smiled, warmed by how easily Richard assumed command. He loved that certainty. But, he missed being overwhelmed by it. “To you, sir,” he said softly—testing whether the old word—sir—still did anything. It did, a flicker in Richard’s eyes. Julian felt hope—and the ache that had driven him to set up the scheme that was about to unfold.
Across town, Jack Roarke tugged the bill of his cap lower as he pushed through the door of a bar called The Junction. Tasteful, yet with a deliberate lack of pretense. Jack ordered a whiskey neat and took a seat where he could keep a close eye on the entrance. If Julian had succeeded, his prize would be walking through that door later, accompanied by Julian.
Julian’s plan was simple: finish dinner, stop by the bar where he and Richard first met, “accidentally” run into Jack, and aim the night toward something raw enough to shake the dust off them both. In Julian’s mind, Jack’s role was clear—join, lead, and seduce them into a 3-way—to remind Richard what true dominance looks like. But, unbeknownst to Julian, Jack had his own agenda.
Over dessert, Julian unexpectedly lowered his voice, “After this, sir,” he said, “what if we went for a nightcap? Somewhere a little…messier?”
Richard’s smile was direct, practiced, affectionate. “Messier,” he repeated, tasting the word the way he tasted wine. He looked around at the dining room, at the couples arranged into tableaux of stylish tastefulness. “Are you thinking The Junction?”
Julian hid his surprise; he hadn't expected Richard to name the bar where the plan was to be executed. That was where Richard and Julian had met and hungrily commenced their super-charged relationship.
Careful not to appear too eager, Julian replied, “Sure, for old times.”
Richard cut another bite and let the silence be agreement.
Across town at The Junction, Jack had taken a high-top with clean sightlines throughout the bar. He checked his phone and saw the three-letter answer he’d been waiting for: On our way. He put the phone face down and looked at his reflection. A face like his was a good tool: the kind of face that warrants second looks but not adoring stares. The blue-collar in him had sanded down his striking beauty to rugged handsomeness. He had an impatience with polish for polish’s sake, an allergy to men who chased status. Men like Richard, from what he’d gathered from Julian. He told himself that was why he wanted this—to prove something to that type. At least that’s what he told himself. What he wouldn’t admit to himself, or certainly to Julian, was that—while he'd fucked Julian in their bedroom—he couldn’t take his eyes off Richard in the dozens of pictures that populated their bedroom.
They left the restaurant at nine-thirty, the city pressing cool air against their cheeks. Richard navigated his Audi with the same competent attention he brought to everything, unhurried, as if he were deliberately taunting Julian. Hoping to keep the plan on track, Julian subtly texted: There in 5.
The Junction was just as they remembered. Filled with men of all ages, backgrounds, and…well…looks. Classy enough to be seen there, but no question why everyone was there in the first place. The bartender recognized nobody and everyone; that was the point of a bar like this. Jack clocked them at the door: the handsome couple, one of whom he had fucked countless times, the other who was even more impressive than he’d imagined. Tall, broad shouldered, thick with real muscle, not mirror muscles. His look was effortless, as if he were born wearing those perfectly tailored clothes and haircut. Julian’s husband guided him into the bar and, before he could select a table, Julian steered him to one that looked perfectly acceptable. They arrived, sat, and settled in and no one would know the better.
Richard’s eyes adjusted, and he took in the room the way he would a jury box: noting groupings, posture, and obvious seduction techniques. He didn’t miss the man about two high-tops away watching them with a steady, unbothered interest. He presumed the stranger routinely assessed everyone who arrived, looking for tonight’s possible conquest. But he couldn’t escape the man’s penetrating gaze. It was so intense it would’ve pissed Richard off if he hadn’t been so captivated by him. Richard thoughtfully assessed him: about his own age, but with a ruggedness that he found surprisingly appealing. Unpolished, even a little gritty, but unmistakenly commanding. Nor did Richard miss the way Julian’s breath changed—minutely—apparently in response to the stranger’s piercing stare. “Friend of yours?” he asked, making it light.
Julian’s smile was practiced innocence with a pulse under it. “No, never seen him before”, hoping his lie was undetectable.
Richard deliberately looked away and, given the man’s presence, covertly tried to observe if Julian did as well. But the volley continued, then escalated. Richard would turn away but could see the stranger continue to study them in his periphery. He’d glance at Julian, who would shift his gaze the moment Richard looked at him. At one point, nearly ready to give up, Richard made eye contact with the stranger, gave him a perfunctory nod intended to be dismissive, and hoped that would be the end of it.
At some point during the increasingly heated back-and-forth, the man ordered another drink from his server. Moments later, a round appeared at Richard’s and Julian’s table, compliment of “the gentleman at the table” with a nod to him.
A bit surprised, but not forgetting his manners, Richard picked up his fresh drink, toasted and nodded to their benefactor. He couldn’t help but smile…he hadn’t been cruised this way in years, and certainly never as a couple with Julian.
Jack wasted no time. He crossed the room with a deliberate economy. Up close, he was even more handsome than from a distance; the force of him was in his stillness, not his angles.
“Gentlemen,” he offered. “Jack”, as he extended for a handshake. “I couldn’t help but notice what a handsome pair you are. Do you mind if I join you?”
“Richard,” Richard answered, shaking his hand with a grip that felt like a challenge. “And this is Julian.” Julian dug deep…how to act like you’re meeting someone for the first time when you’ve actually been fucking them for weeks.
Conversation, at first, was the polite scaffolding of strangers. Where they’d grown up, the weather that week, a joke about the bar’s music that established Jack’s dry humor and Richard’s willingness to let someone else set the tone. Julian sat slightly back and watched the lines of current knot and unknot. He had wanted to braid these men together and be the point where they crossed. He wanted to witness, even experience, Jack teaching Richard what it means to be a man again.
After hearing about the couple’s night out, he asked, “So you two met here?” letting his eyes flick toward the bar’s corner where the light was worst. He knew the answer. He wanted to hear who would tell it.
Richard didn’t remember that having come up in the conversation, but spoke first. “Yes. Ten years ago. He was wearing a jacket he should never have been wearing. I took it off of him.”
Julian laughed, pure sugar. “He means the metaphorical jacket,” he said to Jack, and then, after a beat, “Probably.”
The laugh was permission. Jack felt the room shift a degree.
The second round made it easier to talk about what they weren’t talking about. The space between the three men had its own breath now. Richard recognized it. He had drawn similar geometries in other contexts—rooms where juries leaned forward, where opposing counsel glanced at his hands searching for his next move. He saw that Jack saw him. He saw that Julian wanted to be seen by them both.
“So you’re an attorney?,” Jack asked eventually. Neutral tone; not a challenge yet. 'Odd,' for the second time tonight Richard thought to himself, 'I don't remember mentioning that'.
“Partner,” Richard said without missing a beat. He didn’t add firm names or case histories. He didn’t need to.
“And you?” Richard asked.
Jack held the question until it meant something. “Investigations.”
“Police?” Julian asked softly, though he already knew.
“Used to be,” Jack said. “Now I work for whoever needs a quiet answer.”
Richard nodded. He liked quiet answers. He also liked questions that announced themselves. “And what brings you here tonight, Jack?”
Julian’s fingers tightened around his glass; it was both thrilling and unbearable to hear his husband ask that question.
Jack took the time to look at each of them in turn. He could feel his own honesty leaning forward in him, impatient. He was long past pretending to himself why he was here—to break a man who wore power like a custom suit, and to give something to the other man who had come looking, hungry. But his response was more politic, “I’m looking for whatever trouble I can find. Can you think of a better place to look?”
Julian exhaled like a runner breaking tape. The truth is always the best answer. Jack had made it clear he was looking for action, but without a hint at the subterfuge.
A third round arrived without anyone asking. The bartender was good at his job.
The narrative tightened. Jack told a different kind of story, shorter. He spoke about weather—literal this time. The way storms roll in and how men either look up into it or hunch their shoulders. He said it clinically, but the metaphor was unmistakable. Richard’s eyes glinted. Julian’s lips parted.
“I like men who go outside to meet the rain,” he concluded.
Julian felt the line strike clean through him. Richard, against every conceivable notion, heard the invitation and weighed it against the night he had planned and—somehow—found them compatible.
Julian leaned in before Richard could smooth the edges. “We were just deciding where the night goes next.”
Jack looked to Richard, not Julian. “Are you the one in charge?” A half-smile. “You look like you are.”
Richard felt the prickle—challenge without disrespect. Intriguing. “Usually.”
Jack nodded once, as if a puzzle piece had clicked. “Then take us somewhere we can stop pretending to be polite.”
Richard’s jaw worked. He should say he had other plans. He should say he had a big day tomorrow. He surprised himself. “Our place is 15 minutes away.”
“Perfect,” Jack said, already standing.
They walked out together—Richard’s Audi in front, Jack’s Ford F-150 in the rearview, the difference in their rides the metaphor for what was to come.
Julian sat in the passenger seat buzzing, hands tight on his knees. Richard drove, feeling something unfamiliar open up: not loss of control, but curiosity about what would happen if he let someone else set the first move.
*****
Richard and Julian arrived first and watched closely for Jack to arrive. Julian prayed that Jack wouldn’t bail; Richard was torn. This was their 10th wedding anniversary for goodness sake. A 3-way? Seriously? Richard couldn’t believe he’d allowed this to happen. But damn, that man made Richard feel something he’d never felt befoe.
They watched carefully for Jack to arrive and they weren’t disappointed when the big, white pickup truck roared into their driveway. Richard smugly thought to himself that that was the first time a pickup truck—other than a workman—had occupied that space.
Jack entered without ceremony and Richard promptly poured three whiskeys.
Before Richard could invite him to take a seat, “Bedroom,” he said. Not loud. Final.
For Richard, everything about this night was backwards. To invite a stranger into their home for a 3-way was unheard of. To dismiss the niceties of a pre-sex cocktail was scandalous. To be ordered to his bedroom was outrageous. He was the one in charge, the one who told Julian when, where, and how he would fuck him. Not some stranger.
Richard could have bristled. Instead, the edge of his mouth twitched. Inexplicably, he was intrigued. Jack didn’t wait to be led; he headed to their bedroom like he knew the layout, again surprising Richard.
Once there, Jack turned to Julian, “Strip,” he told—not asked—him. Then to Richard, with the exact same calm: “Chair.”
Richard’s response was shock, but he stayed where he was told, still in his dress shirt and trousers, heat building under his skin. His arousal was paralyzing. Every bone in his body told him to stop this. This wouldn’t end well. But he was electrified. He’d never experienced anything like this. Taking orders, submitting. He lowered himself into the chair, secretly thankful to sit so he could mask the hardness in his meticulously pressed pants.
If Richard was shocked by the demand, Julian was downright stunned. He had envisioned a night with Richard and Jack jockeying for his holes to see who would dominate him. Jack’s order for Richard to sit in the chair and watch came out of nowhere. That aside, he undressed quickly, thankful for the clean permission. He knew he walked a tightrope. He wanted Jack to take him…and take him hard; his encounters with Jack had been insanely hot. Being used by Jack while Richard watched took it up a notch higher. But what message would his animalistic response send to Richard? He knew he had to play it smart, but he also knew he’d have little self-control once Jack started doing what he does.
Jack stepped close to Julian and took his mouth in a kiss that wasn’t sweet, wasn’t cruel—possession and promise. “Don’t deny you want this,” he said against Julian’s lips. Julian nodded, eyes already glassy with relief. Jack pulled Julian into him and they hungrily devoured each other’s mouths. They were downright ravenous. Jack went from 0-60 in seconds, jumped off the bed, pulled his clothes off revealing his muscled body and throbbing cock and laid down, face up, back against the headboard so he could look directly at Richard. Still paralyzed, Richard couldn’t look away. Julian had the smooth toned body of a swimmer, which Richard cherished. But Jack’s body was rugged, hairy, and perfectly muscled. It reminded him of Daniel Craig emerging from the water in his tiny, light blue swimming trunks. Richard was beyond hard; he was pretty sure he was leaking precum into his shorts.
He looked straight at Julian and said, “You know what to do.”
Julian needed no further instruction. He eagerly climbed between Jack’s outstretched legs and skillfully began licking and lapping. First his balls, then the shaft, and then finally swallowed him whole. All the while, Jack’s and Richard’s eyes were locked, both unreadable. Jack was getting off as much from the masterful blowjob as he was from watching Richard squirm. Still paralyzed, Richard’s heart was beating so hard he feared his chest would explode and he didn’t dare look down into his lap for fear of seeing a growing wet spot.
“That’s it, boy, get it good and wet for when I fuck you. Can’t wait to see your daddy’s face when I do.”
Julian twisted his head to see Richard. Their eyes met with a blank stare. Neither was expecting this, knew what to do, nor wanted it to stop.
Jack roughly pulled Julian’s head off his cock by his hair and twisted him around on the bed so he now faced Richard. “Hands and knees, doggy style,” Jack ordered. Then he looked at Richard, “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to watch your boy as I fuck the cum out of him."
Richard peered into Julian’s eyes, and neither gave an inch. Julian couldn’t stop now, he was in heaven being abused by Jack. Richard remained powerless. The pure eroticism of what was unfolding in front of him rendered him helpless.
As they stared into each other’s eyes, Jack savagely entered Julian. “OH!!!” he wailed as Jack mercilessly thrust into him. Richard’s instinct was to protect his boy, but he knew the pain would quickly be replaced with passion.
Jack paused and let Julian adjust. Now in a full sweat, he looked again at Richard and said, I hope your boy likes doggy style, cause I’m gonna give it to him hard.”
He slowly pushed in and Richard saw Julian’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Julian was experiencing something Richard hadn’t witnessed in years. Pure, unadulterated, sexual ecstasy.
Slowly, but methodically, Jack began to thrust in and out, like the piston in a car. Very, very slowly speeding up, as if he were warming up for a race. Richard looked at Julian and witnessed euphoria, and then to Jack and saw lust. Back and forth…euphoria—lust—euphoria—lust. It escalated until Richard feared he’d cum in his pants without even touching himself.
When Richard wondered how Julian could take any more, Jack pulled him up by the hair again, and walked them both to the chair where Richard sat, standing directly in front of him, Jack’s cock still impaled in Julian.
Jack began to thrust again and grabbed Julian’s fully erect cock with his free hand and violently stroked Julian just inches from Richard’s face. “I’m gonna shoot boy. When I do, you shoot all over your daddy. I want him to taste the cum I fuck out of you. Understand?”
He thrust harder and Julian was right there with him. It didn’t take long before Richard could see both of them tighten up. Jack went first, “THIS IS IT!!!” and almost immediately after, Julian’s cock exploded fountains of cum, covering Richard’s hair, face and his still-clothed torso.
As they came, Jack pushed Julian down onto Richard leaving his sticky mess between them. That’s all it took for Richard to join them in this epic orgasm. He didn’t touch himself. He didn’t need to. Just witnessing their feral union and being covered with his boy’s jizz pushed him over the edge.
The three of them were now in a cluster, with Richard bearing the weight of both Julian and Jack, both covered in sweat. Richard was sticky with his face and clothes covered in Julian’s jizz and his own cum in his underwear. Not a word was said as they slowly regained their composure. Jack pulled out of Julian, but left him curled into Richard, who wrapped his arms around him like a protective father. Neither of them moved while Jack quietly got dressed.
Awkward doesn’t begin to describe the scene.
Once fully dressed, Jack leaned down to the two of them, still fully embraced, and whispered, “Good boy, Julian.” Looking into Jack’s eyes, he added, “You too”.
He walked to the door, stopped, turned around and concluded the evening, “I’ll be seeing both of you soon.”
To be continued..
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