Stable Hill

by Jodi Payne

  Sure. Eyes on Russ. He could handle that. This was what Russ wanted, after all. To show off a little, make sure Jeffrey understood what they had together, to make sure Jeffrey knew they wanted him to be a part of it.

  He reached for Russ and smoothed a hand over those tanned abs, keeping focus. When he and Russ started this, he wasn’t sure he’d be able do it, but now it had become this insane turn-on, the idea that they were being watched. God, the notion made him a little nervous. Excited. Hard. He was well aware of the eyes on him, Russ in front of him and Jeffrey, hovering off to one side, close but not interfering.

  He pulled Russ in, kissing and touching warm skin. Russ sighed and arched his neck, and Oscar went after it, lips traveling along Russ’s jaw. Jeffrey made an approving sound from just out of arm’s reach, and he grinned and nipped at Russ’s chin.

  Russ hooked fingers into his waistband, arching and offering up skin everywhere his lips traveled, over Russ’s throat, across prominent collar bones, over one shoulder. He hooked his hands behind Russ’s back for support and bent to one nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

  “Ah. Oscar.” Russ’s breathless words were followed by a groan from Jeffrey, but he wasn’t the least bit inclined to look over. Russ was in his arms and everything right now. He pinched Russ’s stiff nipple between careful teeth, and Russ went up on tiptoe with a whimper. “God.”

  “Gorgeous. Damn, Oscar,” Jeffrey whispered.

  He hummed. “Mm. I think Jeffrey likes it.”

  “Yeah, me too. God. And he’s going to love this.” Russ put hands on his chest and levered him away, looked down between them, and both hands started in on his jeans. They loosened his belt and his fly, pushed the waistband over his hips until the jeans fell to the floor. He kicked his shoes off, stepped out of them, and his briefs followed.

  Jeffrey hummed and stepped closer. “Oh, that’s a lovely view.”

  “Look, don’t touch, mister,” Russ admonished, and Jeffrey stepped back again.

  “So not fair.”

  “Uh-huh.” Under no such orders, Russ grabbed his bare ass with both hands, his lover’s jeans rubbed against sensitive bits, the rough denim making him groan. He dropped his hands to Russ’s waist and carefully popped the top button, but Russ stepped back suddenly and grinned at him, shucking the jeans quickly.

  He held his hands up in the air, grinning. “I can’t touch either?”

  Russ laughed, his thick, hard cock bobbing. “Just making it easier, baby. Come on.”

  He followed Russ to bed and climbed up next to Russ’s tan body, where they could stroke each other as they kissed.

  He heard Jeffrey sigh somewhere out of his line of vision, and the sound of a zipper and Jeffrey’s soft moan were unmistakable.

  “Got him,” Russ whispered.

  He chuckled at the glee Russ was taking in this game, but it didn’t last long. Russ started making a trip down the length of his torso with a hot tongue, and he rolled onto his back to give the man more room. “Yeah.” God, he loved Russ’s mouth. He placed a hand on Russ’s head and gently steered that tongue lower, over his flank and into his curls.

  Russ moaned for him and tasted the base of his cock, and he moaned back, arching as his cock swelled and stretched away from his body.

  “Look at that,” Jeffrey whispered.

  “Russ, please.”

  Russ didn’t make him wait. That tongue drew up his shaft and circled the head. His mouth dropped open and he rolled his head back as Russ took him in, starting with just the tip, and then taking him deeper, little by little until the head of his prick was rubbing against the roof of Russ’s mouth over and over, making him groan.

  “Fuck. You two….”

  He’d forgotten for a second that Jeffrey was there, but at this point it was hard to focus on anything. Russ had him panting, had him wanting, and he rolled his hips, pushing his cock deeper into that wet heat. Russ made a soft sound and pulled off him, grabbing a rubber and lube from the nightstand.

  “Yeah. Yes. Russ.” Words. God.

  Russ rolled the rubber on, grinning down at him, and they all moaned as Russ lowered himself down onto his cock, getting ready to ride him. His hands flew to Russ’s hips. “Fuck. Oh, fuck.”

  “Take him, Russ.” That was Jeffrey’s voice, and Oscar expected Russ to counter, but instead Russ whimpered like Jeff had actually touched him, then grabbed his own prick, stroking as he moved. “That’s it. Deeper.”

  Christ, Jeffrey’s voice was dark and smooth, and it just poured over both of them in thick waves, adding to the experience, making them both hotter. Russ grunted and his eyes crossed as their bodies met ass to flank, his cock buried so deep he could barely breathe.

  “Fuck, Oscar.” Russ’s voice was rough, shaky, but he started to move, and Oscar watched, fascinated by the furrowed brow and the way Russ was biting his lip.

  “So good, baby.”

  “Ride, Russ.” Jeffrey’s words were drawn out and low and lit something in him, something bright and hot.

  “Fuck yeah. Ride me, baby.” He arched up under his lover, and Russ cried out. It wasn’t long before Russ was working and he was bucking underneath, both of them breathing hard and focused on each other. It was so good until suddenly he wanted… more. He needed to really move.

  “Down.” He ordered, and Russ moved, rolling smoothly to his back and reaching for Oscar again.

  Russ looked up at him, heat and need in those eyes. “Come on, baby.”

  “Russ.” He dove back into Russ with a groan, and slipped right into a strong rhythm, watching his lover move and arch under him. “Beautiful.”

  Then things got confusing for a minute as he felt hands on his back, and he turned his head to find…. Oh. Jeffrey.

  Cool slick fingers slipped over his hole and one pressed inside, and his rhythm faltered, hips stuttering. He took a deep breath, his head dropping to Russ’s chest, and he went with it, all the sensation, sinking deep into Russ and then pressing back to ride Jeffrey’s fingers. “Jeffrey.”

  “Jeffrey.” Russ’s voice was husky. “Do it. Please. I want to feel it.”

  “What?” He lifted his head, catching Russ’s eyes, but his question was much too late. He groaned heavily as Jeffrey slowly pushed inside him, breaking his rhythm altogether, making him stop and breathe. Russ moaned and arched under him. “Russ. Jeffrey. Oh. Oh God.”

  So full. So full and so deep. So much, his head was going to explode. He heard Russ’s and Jeffrey’s sounds, moans and grunts, and he reached back, steadying and slowing Jeffrey’s hips. “Wait.”

  He shifted his knees and folded Russ’s higher, and then he took control for a bit, rocking back and taking Jeffrey deep, then rolling forward, sinking into Russ. The room was full of breathy pleasure, some of them urgent and shuddering, some long and deep, all full of desire and emotion.

  “Oscar! Jeff… Jeffrey. I need….”

  Jeffrey grunted in answer and surged into him, forcing him that much deeper into Russ. His own cry nearly drowned out Russ’s shout and Jeffrey’s satisfied grunt, and he surrendered, letting Jeffrey take control, overwhelmed by their sounds and the press of their bodies, giving in to the need.

  He hung over Russ as Jeffrey picked up the pace, looking deep into Russ’s eyes and reading such love there. “Russ.” His lover’s name was all he could manage, but it must have been enough. Russ nodded to him, smiling.

  Jeffrey shifted behind him, hit everything just right, and Oscar’s eyes flew open wide. “Yes! Oh fuck.”

  “More!” Russ shouted, arching and bucking, and Jeffrey practically pinned them together, fucking him hard and right. “Gonna… oh!”

  He wrapped a hand around Russ’s cock and stroked his lover through a wild orgasm, Russ’s ass gripping him, muscles working to push him over too. He was just one… second… behind.

  “Fuck!”

  His shout and Jeffrey’s were right on top of one another and as he came, hard enough his vision narrowed, he found himself h
elpless to do anything but moan through it and take everything Jeffrey could give him.

  By the time things calmed a bit and the freight train in his ears had subsided, poor Russ was so gone, his lover was almost sobbing. He patted Jeffrey’s hip, and Jeffrey nodded, slipping free and stepping back so he could do the same for Russ.

  “Oh…,” Russ whimpered, and trembling hands reached for him.

  “Just a…. Hang on, baby.” He quickly disposed of his rubber and climbed back into bed, pulling Russ close. Jeffrey was only a moment longer, and the three of them cuddled close, tangling arms and legs, Russ cradled between him and Jeffrey. The three of them shared kisses and a chorus of “I love you” until they’d caught their breath and none of them could keep their eyes open another second.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  OSCAR WOKE up with his arm around someone and his ass pressed up against someone else, so sore and so content he didn’t even want to consider moving. God, what a night. He’d wanted so much and needed more and gotten it all, from all sides, all at once. It had shorted him out, scrambled something inside him, and reset his compass completely. There was no doubt in his mind this was exactly where he belonged.

  These men loved him. These men were the perfect mix of personalities, of strength and honesty, of trust and desire. He couldn’t imagine one without the other, or even either of them being without him. Their balance was everything he needed.

  He knew it was the same for Jeffrey and Russ. He was more convinced than ever that they felt it the way he did, that this was real, this was solid, this was their own very special kind of love.

  Russ stirred next to him and sighed, and Oscar kissed his temple. That earned him a smile, and Russ rolled onto his back, green eyes looking up into his.

  “Good morning,” he whispered, in case Jeffrey wasn’t awake yet.

  Russ gave him a sleepy, happy smile. “Good morning.”

  “Morning.” Jeffrey’s voice floated over his shoulder, the word muffled and mumbled. He and Russ laughed softly.

  “Maybe he worked too hard?”

  Oscar snorted. “I’ll remind you that I am the senior of the three of us. If I can handle it, he can.”

  “Gentlemen.” Jeffrey sat up on one elbow, looking over his back. “You’re forgetting that the two of you tried to kill me last night.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Russ laughed. “I thought you’d be able to handle it.”

  Jeffrey snorted. “Hell, no!”

  “I think, actually, that the two of you nearly killed me.” Oscar could still feel himself buried deep inside Russ’s tight heat and ached from the perfect burn as Jeffrey took him at the same time.

  Oscar arched back, asking Jeffrey for a kiss, and he got one. Then he leaned forward and passed it on to Russ. “Coffee?”

  Russ nodded. “Shower.”

  “Clean sheets.”

  He grinned. “Meet downstairs for brunch?”

  “You’re on.”

  They had their marching orders, but they didn’t rush. They got up and moved slowly, jostling and kissing, fingers sliding over each other’s skin, touching one another. Russ headed for the shower and Jeffrey started stripping the bed. Oscar pulled on sweats; he was on a mission.

  Coffee.

  He trotted barefoot down the stairs, every creak and groan of the old staircase familiar from his childhood. He knew just where to step so the third one from the top didn’t pop when he took his weight off it, and so the last one didn’t creak and shift and wake up his parents. Once upon a time he’d been the master of sneaking out of the house.

  He almost always got caught coming home, but hey, sometimes it was better—and more fun—to beg forgiveness than to ask permission.

  He crossed the living room to the kitchen, wishing he’d thought to pull on his socks because the floors were chilly. He should have remembered that too, all the mornings he’d hopped around from foot to foot, making his oatmeal, and Mom sending him upstairs for his slippers and his bathrobe.

  Young man, go put some clothes on.

  He started a pot of coffee and grabbed a banana from the bunch on the counter, then ate it thoughtfully, letting himself visit his memories while the house was quiet. Homework at the dining room table, reading his comic books in the little nook by the fireplace with an afghan over his knees. They’d always had dogs; it was weird that there wasn’t a dog stretched out on the entryway rug and another by the woodstove. Mom always had flowers on the sideboard, and Dad’s pipe and tobacco used to sit in a little dish on the telephone table by the back door.

  The coffee mugs were the same, though. The dishes, silverware, almost everything functional about the kitchen. Even Mom’s dishtowels and the weird little sunflower cookie jar that still smelled like cookies even though there hadn’t been any in it since Dad got sick.

  He poured himself a cup, then went out to the living room to drink it, and sat on the couch. He and Russ had gotten rid of Dad’s big chair. Neither one of them could stand to look at it, let alone sit in it, and it wasn’t fit for guests, anyway, as beat up as it had been. He remembered the day they’d done it, how relieved they both had been to discover the other couldn’t deal with it sitting there empty either. Maybe he should have known then that there was something between him and Russ, way back then, after Dad’s funeral. Maybe Russ did. He wondered if they had gotten together back then, whether they’d have welcomed Jeffrey in the same way.

  Things happen for a reason.

  That was Dad talking. Dad never explained the reasons, he’d just always said there was one. For everything, including losing Mom—even losing Emmett—and maybe there was. Oscar couldn’t say for sure it wasn’t true, but it made him crazy no one ever told him what the reasons were.

  There was a ruckus of feet and voices in the stairwell, and then his lovers appeared, both freshly showered, dressed, and smiling.

  “Hey, did I miss an invitation?”

  “I didn’t invite anyone. Ooh. I smell the coffee.” Russ laughed and went straight for it.

  Jeffrey came to him first, and he stood up for a kiss. “I barged in on him. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s my turn, though. Have some coffee. Think about breakfast. I’ll be quick.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He finished his coffee and hopped in the shower, humming as he scrubbed and shaved. He pulled a clean T-shirt and undies from his bag, then found yesterday’s jeans and pulled them on. He looked at the giant, neatly made bed with the clean, new sheets Jeffrey put on it and smiled again. The first time he’d seen it was so strange, this huge bed in his parents’ room, but now it was their room and their bed, and he was happy with that. It was going to be a shame to lose the house. He had no idea where that bed might end up.

  It sounded like the guys downstairs were having a good time. Their voices were starting to carry. That didn’t seem fair, he’d already missed the shower, so he pulled on his sneakers, grabbed his empty coffee mug, and made his way back down for breakfast.

  “I need more coffee. Did you guys decide what we’re eating?”

  The room went silent as he appeared at the bottom of the stairwell. Russ looked at Jeffrey, then at him, then ducked his head and went into the kitchen.

  What the hell?

  “Everything okay?” Had they been arguing?

  “Yeah, fine. I think Russ was going to make omelets. Why don’t you go get more coffee.”

  “Okay….” Something was up. He gave Jeffrey’s arm a squeeze as he walked by, making his way into the kitchen. Russ was scrambling eggs in a bowl, and the counter was covered in veggies. He ran a hand over Russ’s shoulders and then poured himself a cup of coffee. “Can I help?”

  “Sure. There’s spinach and mushrooms and scallions, and I wanted to dice up some of that sausage.”

  “Great.” He took a sip of his coffee, noting that Jeffrey hadn’t joined them. He started cleaning the mushrooms. “Were you two arguing?”

  Russ didn’t answer. He set the
bowl of eggs by the stove, got out an omelet pan, and then joined him at the counter to chop sausage.

  They’d had such a perfect night together. What in the world could they possibly have been arguing about? “I’m starving. This is looking good.”

  “I know you like a big breakfast. This is easy anyway.”

  They worked in silence for a while until everything was chopped, but Russ never seemed to relax, and Jeffrey hadn’t reappeared at all, not even for more coffee. That was just wrong. Jeffrey could drink the entire pot by himself.

  Once Russ was cooking, he made his way back into the living room to check on Jeffrey, who was looking out a window at the morning sunshine. “Don’t you want some more coffee?”

  Jeffrey looked into his cup. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  Oscar sighed and took the mug from him. “What’s going on?”

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  “Russ isn’t talking at all. He’s making some killer omelets, though.”

  “Who knew the king of peanut butter and jelly and canned soup could make an omelet?”

  “I know. It’s funny, right?” There were a few things Russ did well with. If it involved scrambling eggs, Russ could pretty much pull it off.

  “I’ll get you more coffee.”

  “Thank you, love.”

  As worried as he was, he let himself smile at that and headed back to the kitchen to fill up Jeffrey’s mug. He didn’t know what the protocol was here. Should he make them talk? Should he stay out of it? Were they not talking because the argument was about him, or was that just being paranoid? Should he leave and let them finish hashing it out?

  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here, Russ. You’re not talking; he isn’t talking…. I don’t want to make anything worse, I’m not saying it’s even my business, but this is awkward for me, and I don’t know how I should be handling this.”

  “He has something to tell you.”

  “What?” That didn’t sound good. “He does?”