Third One

by Roe Horvat

“I think there are still two cinnamon buns left. Want to take them home?”

  Luke sighed. “Thank you. I’m starving. I’d love to.”

  “Okay.” As if feeding Luke sweet pastry would compensate for anything.

  He was such a selfish, greedy bastard to still want Luke. He thought that maybe his ideas about how relationships worked were wrong after all. Since Julian left for Paris seven years ago, it had been just him and Liam. It took them both a long time to recover from that blow. Today, he knew Liam had never blamed him for Jules breaking up with them, but Marcus occasionally blamed himself. Maybe it had never been healthy, and Jules leaving was the natural conclusion of an unbalanced relationship. Marcus was happy with Liam. He loved Liam. They were enough for each other.

  But then he fell in love with Luke.

  A brush of a hand on his cheek made him lift his head. Luke was looking at him sheepishly; he dropped his hand.

  “Don’t worry. I’m okay.”

  Marcus scoffed at the weak reassurance. Neither of them was okay.

  Sighing, Luke tugged him into a hug.

  “Come here.”

  It felt so lovely to be held by Luke. Marcus breathed him in, trying to make the most of the short moment. A kiss to his hair, another on his temple, lingering. He held Luke tighter, his eyes burning behind closed eyelids.

  “I have to go,” Luke whispered, and Marcus knew he didn’t mean just tonight.

  Dropping his arms, Marcus stepped back.

  “Good luck, lucky Luke.” His voice betrayed him; their old joke left a foul taste on his tongue.

  Luke nodded, and Marcus swiftly left the room, not looking back.

  Four

  Luke

  So this was how it felt. Luke had always wondered if the harmony he experienced while dancing with Marcus—dancing for him—would transfer into sex. Yes, it was perfect. They moved like one, an impeccably synchronized dance, and he could feel Marcus’s pleasure like an extra layer on top of his own. Trying to catch a taste as well, he deepened the kiss. He thrust faster, and Marcus moaned louder, their mouths slotted together. Marcus seemed to vibrate with joy.

  “Harder. Fuck me harder,” Marcus whispered into his mouth. They kept kissing, the touch of their lips and tongues as intimate as the connection of their bodies.

  Luke fisted Marcus’s hair with one hand, the dark waves circling his fingers, and held him around his shoulders while he doubled his rhythm. He needed to come so desperately; he wanted his seed inside Marcus. Own him for just a few minutes. Marcus cried out, and Luke felt warmth between their bellies.

  “Don’t stop,” Marcus gasped.

  He didn’t. He had to come.

  A cool hand touched the sweaty skin between his shoulders. A strange hand.

  Luke lifted his head.

  “Don’t stop,” Marcus repeated.

  Liam sat on the bed next to them, just staring, expressionless.

  “Don’t stop.”

  Liam’s hand slid down Luke’s back, over his ass cheek… He felt Liam’s fingers in his crease.

  “Let me fuck you,” Liam said.

  Luke yelped.

  Ripped from the dream, he rolled and groaned. He was hard, his underwear sticky, but damn his brain. Damn it all to hell and back. He needed to come, but fuck. Not like this. Why? Why couldn’t he have this? Just an illusion, one perfect illusion. Why wasn’t he allowed to have this tiny little thing nobody had to know about? He needed this, to hide in a dream for just a minute. One little minute of joy and peace. He reached into his sleep shorts and fisted his cock. Shit, he needed to come. He stroked himself fast, biting the pillow so he wouldn’t shout. He struggled to rewind his dream, looking for an image of Marcus lying next to him, watching him with wide eyes, licking his lips. Marcus’s face, contorted in pleasure and pain. Luke could almost capture the ghost of the feeling when his dream Marcus held him. And he saw Marcus with his legs open wide, his pucker covered with come, his body trembling. Luke would thrust back inside and own him again. Liam. Liam’s hands on Luke’s ass...

  Fuck my brain. Fuck it all. He came anyway, hating himself. Fuck my stupid fucking brain.

  Feeling dirty inside out, he stumbled to the bathroom. He washed his hands, rubbing aggressively. Against his will, he caught his own gaze in the mirror. At first, his nostrils flared with anger, but then he looked on, just breathing.

  This is all I have. This is me. It’s not going to get better unless I make it better.

  He showered, shaved, and went to the living room slash kitchen. Adam was up but barely. He sat on the large armchair in the corner next to the balcony door, legs folded sideways, hugging a mug of coffee, hair sticking out in all directions, eyes puffy and cheeks rosy. He was the cutest little thing.

  “Hi,” he mumbled when he saw Luke.

  “Morning,” Luke replied and headed straight for the coffee can. “Thanks for making this. Lifesaver.”

  “Just like old times,” Adam said and smiled.

  It had been three years since Adam had moved away. He lived up north in a perfect little house on the coast, commuting with his perfect boyfriend in their perfect new Volvo. Luke wasn’t jealous. If anyone deserved a break, it was Adam. His friend was sublimely happy these days, and Luke was happy for him. Only, sometimes it felt like Luke was the last loser in town while everyone else was settled in domestic bliss.

  It was great to see his friend again outside work. They talked until late last night—a rare, precious time spent alone, just the two of them. Since Adam met Christoffer, he only stayed with Luke when his partner was away on business. Kevin left last summer too. He was now working for the ballet company in Helsinki on a one-year contract. He’d be back. Maybe.

  Luke didn’t mind living alone. Most days. His budget wasn’t that strained anymore, and he spent all his working hours surrounded by people and sounds. Quiet nights at home had become more and more attractive after thirty. Still, as Adam clung to his coffee mug, a gentle, sleepy smile on his elfin face, Luke’s chest squeezed with longing. He wanted to travel back in time to when he felt important and good to the core as he took care of Adam. When he partied and fooled around with Nathan and Kevin, no worry on his mind. When his infatuation with Marcus was nothing more than a pleasant thrill, a fluttering warmth in his gut. Innocent and fleeting. Before Luke had ruined it all because he watched too closely, knew too much, and didn’t drop his gaze when Marcus looked back…

  Instead of killing it when it was weak, Luke had let the love grow. He had even nurtured it. He would stay longer at the theater some nights, and Marcus seemed pleased. Luke would treasure the time they were alone, stupidly thinking it meant something. He would listen to Marcus talk about his visions, they experimented with new choreographies, and they danced together. They touched. Then Liam would pick Marcus up, and Luke would go home by himself. Foolish. He had been so naïve.

  “You must come on Friday. Please,” Adam pleaded, renewing the only topic they’d disagreed about last night.

  The farewell party before the theater closed for the summer. Luke winced at the prospect. Drinking, dancing, and pretending—no, he didn’t want to go. He probably had to.

  “I said I might.”

  “Might.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m sorry, Adam. I’m just weird these days. Don’t mind me.”

  “You’ve always been weird.”

  “And you’re all coupled up. Tyler and Joel and you and C. I’m tired of cock-blocking you all the time.”

  “What? There will be like fifty other people! And all of the guys from the theater.”

  “Whom I see daily and sometimes need a break from, to be honest.”

  “It’s your last week, Luke. I mean, c’mon!”

  “Adam, I said I might come. I’m not sure if I’ll be in the mood, okay?”

  Adam hung his head. “Okay.” He drank more of his coffee and watched the street outside. Luke turned back to the counter. He cracked si
x eggs into the pan and added a spoon of butter. He opened the drawer and searched for the right spatula.

  “How did Marcus take it?” Adam asked from behind him. Hidden from Adam’s perceptive gaze, Luke winced.

  “That I’m leaving? He was the first to know. I think he expected it.”

  Adam put the empty mug on the counter next to Luke and reached for a clean glass. “Remember, about three years ago, on my birthday party?” Luke knew where this was going. Adam filled his glass with water and leaned against the counter, watching as Luke poked at the eggs. “I saw you with Marcus…” Adam continued, his tone expectant.

  “Yeah, I remember. You freaked and went around thinking for like a month that Marcus had cheated on Liam with me, before you told me.”

  “But you had a crush on him.”

  “Yes. A crush. He figured it out and felt sorry for me. I told him he didn’t have to. End of story. It’s been years. I’ve moved on.” He hated lying to Adam, but telling him was impossible. He’d kept the secret for years. He knew he could keep it forever if needed. Yes, he used to have a crush on his boss. Stupid to begin with. But being in love with his very much taken boss, that was a level of idiocy he was going to take with him to the grave. He was never telling anyone. Not even his best friend. It was bad enough Marcus knew. And Liam.

  “Are you leaving the troupe because of Marcus?”

  Except Adam might have seen more than Luke wanted him to. Damn his perceptiveness. “Adam…” He sighed. The more he talked about it, the closer to the surface his secret was. Better to stay quiet.

  “Are you?”

  “No. I’m leaving because I’m thirty-four, almost thirty-five, and mediocre. I need to think about how to earn enough to buy food for the next decade or five.”

  “You’re not mediocre. And you could have taken the assistant job. Marcus wanted you to.”

  Luke turned the stove off. He’d overcooked the eggs already. “Adam, I know you mean well. But I want to leave. I’m tired. I’m exhausted actually. You don’t understand because dancing is your life. But I’m not like that. I want to do other stuff too. I don’t need to dance to be happy.”

  Adam looked down.

  “Hand me the plates?” Luke asked.

  Turning away, Adam opened the cupboard and pulled out two plain white IKEA plates. God, how many times had they stood here just like this, preparing food together? It seemed like eons ago. “I don’t want you to leave,” Adam whispered.

  Luke put the pan on the counter. He circled his arm around Adam’s shoulders and tugged. “Come here.” Adam fell into his embrace with a deep sigh. “It’ll be fine, baby bird,” he cooed, using the old nickname he had for Adam when the boy moved in with him years ago. Skinny, frightened, and clingy, Adam had been a little bird with broken wings. He had changed a lot since then; now he glowed with health and happiness. He didn’t need Luke the same way he used to. Adam would be just fine. “We’ll still see each other all the time.”

  “No, we won’t. You’re going to avoid Marcus. So you’re going to avoid all of us. I’d be lucky to see you over coffee once a month.”

  “I’m not leaving because of Marcus, Adam.”

  Adam lifted his penetrating gaze, his eyes flicking between Luke’s. “I’m sorry you’re unhappy, Luke.”

  Luke kissed Adam’s nose.

  “Let’s eat. The eggs are shit, sorry.”

  “I don’t care. It’s food.”

  Luke had expected to feel both exhilarated and miserable—it was his last show. Instead, he was numb. Disconnected. He did great; he knew it—he didn’t need the standing ovation to prove it. When it came, together with all the flowers, and his friends flooded the stage, lifting him, he laughed, and he waved… And nothing. The emptiness seemed to mute the sounds around him. There was a thin film of nothing between him and all those people hugging him. The lights were too bright, and he could see the dust swirl in the glowing cones. He’d never noticed there was so much of it. Like snow. Did he breathe that in every day? So much dust.

  Then he found Liam in the audience, in the first row no less. When the applause boomed again, Liam stood, clapping with calm grace, and he watched Luke. Their eyes met. That one look broke Luke’s armor. Suddenly, he was naked and raw, bleeding his useless emotions from all pores. He stared back, reading the respect in the angle of Liam’s mouth, in the way the man held his chin, high and proud. Proud of Luke? How? And there was sadness in Liam’s eyes at the same time. Maybe even a plea. Luke was suddenly aware of his heartbeat, the heavy, hasty thumps. His blood churned in his chest, and he thought maybe Liam could hear it. Luke’s heart beat faster still, while Liam’s lip curved in a curious smile. Luke shook his head to tear his gaze away and left the stage too early. He was allowed to be weird—it was his last show after all. Nobody would suspect a thing.

  Why did Liam care? Did he enjoy messing with Luke’s head like this? Standing there in all his magnificence, tall and gorgeous, he was looking at Luke as if he could read his mind, and the lights seemed to be drawn to him, leaving the rest of the audience in the shadows. He shone brighter than anyone on the stage, except for those dark eyes and dark magic.

  As he rushed through backstage, a hand caught Luke’s forearm, and he turned on instinct. There were tears in Marcus’s eyes. Wordlessly, Marcus tugged at his arm, and Luke let himself be embraced.

  “You owned the stage tonight, Luke,” Marcus whispered in his ear. “Thank you.”

  Luke broke free, mumbling an apology. He caught the smell of Marcus—soap and sweat, a hint of aftershave—and his stomach turned with an unexpected wave of anger at those men. Was this a game to them? Did they enjoy toying with him? Would they talk about him tonight when they were alone together? Why was Liam there, on Luke’s last evening? It was supposed to be my night. My grand emotional moment. So why did Marcus cry when Luke couldn’t?

  He ran through the corridor, away from the pain, and hid in the shower, wanting his own tears to come. They didn’t. No relief in this pathetic wretchedness—not even stupid tears.

  In his mind, he saw Liam’s face, watching and knowing. He shouldn’t want to know what Liam thought. He shouldn’t care. He should not.

  Five

  Liam

  Liam licked over Marcus’s hole. He hummed, satisfied with the way Marcus moaned at the contact. Marcus was on his back, folded in half, his tail end propped high up on all the pillows as he held his legs open. Exposed and naked, he was stunning. Liam teased and taunted, soft flicks of the tip of his tongue, a gentle push inside Marcus’s relaxed body, then a swath through his crease. The skin was smooth. Liam didn’t need Marcus to wax, but Marcus did anyway. He loved ass play, and he said that keeping his crack hairless enhanced all sensations. Liam sucked on Marcus’s pucker, then licked soothingly and sucked again. Soon, Marcus would lose himself and forget about everything else but the buzzing nerve endings around his hole.

  Liam was grateful to see his man recovered, to watch his eyes shine with lust again. At forty-six, Liam was fully aware of what a gift health was.

  “I bought something,” he said, smirking. He dipped the tip of his index finger into Marcus’s opening and circled the ring of muscle, teasing.

  “Mhmm.” Marcus sighed. “Whatever it is, I really hope it goes into my ass.”

  Liam chuckled and pushed his finger in deep. With his other hand, he added more lube. He reached for the toy he had ready under the bed. The dildo was soft, more yielding than his own hard erection, thinner but longer. It was deep turquoise and had subtle ridges along the length. He checked the bullet was lodged inside the base until the black marking line. Marcus’s eyes were closed, and he gyrated his hips.

  Lubing the toy, Liam watched his partner squirm with impatience. Under different circumstances, he might tease him, edge him, and let him beg. But after long weeks of constant worry, of watching Marcus in pain, fatigued, or numb, Liam only wanted to give him pleasure. Absolute and unconditional.

  “Keep your e
yes closed,” he said. Marcus obeyed wordlessly, but his mouth fell open when Liam pushed the head of the toy inside him.

  “Fuck yes,” Marcus swore and moaned louder when Liam fucked him with the toy in long strokes, letting Marcus’s body language guide him. Sex between longtime partners was underappreciated, Liam decided. All the senseless hunting after fresh meat. Compatibility was rare, and it got only more precious with time. Liam loved knowing exactly how to angle the toy if he wanted Marcus to shudder with the intensity. He was able to predict the sound Marcus would make when Liam rubbed his thumb over his taint and pushed the dildo in simultaneously.

  “Fuck! That’s perfect,” Marcus mumbled, making Liam smile.

  “Want to feel how deep it goes?” Liam asked. He couldn’t resist fisting his own cock as he watched the toy slide in and out of his lover’s glistening hole.

  “Yes. Give me the whole thing.”

  So Liam pushed, going all the way until the wide base stopped against Marcus’s taint. Marcus groaned with joy. Liam pulled the toy out to the tip and shoved it back in to the hilt. The sounds Marcus made were so happy Liam couldn’t wait to give him everything he had planned.

  Leaving the toy lodged deep, he massaged Marcus’s ass cheeks and kissed his balls for a while. Then he shuffled closer on his knees.

  “Yes, please,” Marcus whispered, already hungry for what was coming.

  Still amazed that he could, Liam held Marcus’s ass with one hand, thumb by his hole, and his cock with the other, as he slowly forced his erection into Marcus’s stretched hole alongside the dildo. Marcus keened.

  The tightness was fucking fantastic. Liam rocked his hips and moaned, the dildo’s soft ridges massaging his cock. The toy created stronger pressure onto Marcus’s gland, and Liam could see his partner’s face change. Eyes squeezed shut, mouth gaping, Marcus chanted in time with Liam’s thrusts. The sounds tore from his throat, deep and inhuman. He would come in no time if Liam stroked his cock. But Liam left Marcus’s erection untouched; it lay on Marcus’s belly, drooling and pulsing with the changing pressure inside Marcus’s body. What a sight. Liam wished there was a way to suck Marcus while fucking him.