Third Rail

by Santino Hassell

  Since the night we’d spent together, I hadn’t been able to get him out of my head. Jace either. We’d talked about it after weeks and weeks of us courting Chris via text, because neither of us could deny that this wasn’t typical. Not by a longshot.

  As teens, we’d picked up random people for the excitement of fucking strangers. Then we’d realized we truly enjoyed watching each other be intimate with others. Liked tumbling people together for an adventure. It had been a game we played with other people but mostly with each other.

  It was different with Chris. We’d had to have a conversation about Chris. About wanting him as a lover. A regular lover. Not just a fling.

  Too fucking bad he’d been dodging us ever since. But now, seeing him put his arm around Jace so possessively? This had to be a sign that he was interested again. I fucking hoped.

  I smoothed a hand over my beard and drew up to a stand, but just as I started in their direction, my phone rang. Grumbling, I slipped it from my pocket to see Clive’s name flashing across the screen. If he thought I was going to talk about work on a designated party night, he had another thing coming.

  I hit ignore and went to join my husband and Chris.

  “We ready to go?”

  Chris looked up at me, brown eyes twinkling just enough for me to question how drunk he was. One look at Jace told me they were equally tipsy.

  “I’m so fuckin’ ready,” Chris drawled. “We got big plans.”

  “Huge fucking plans,” Jace said, leaning in but then pulling away. “The most fun plans.”

  Oh Lord.

  “How drunk are youse both?”

  “Hey,” Chris rumbled, tilted his head back and giving me the tough guy stare that made me want to fuck the attitude out of him. “Don’t start playing daddy. I can handle my shit.”

  “I’m just say—” My phone rang again, and I glared at Clive’s name. “Jesus wept.”

  “Who’s that?” Chris and Jace chorused.

  Jace craned his neck, and Chris all but snatched the phone out of my hand. He lost interest after seeing the name. “Isn’t that Michael’s ex-man?”

  “He’s also the QFindr attorney,” I said dryly. “And he’s determined to get me on the horn, so I’m starting to think there’s a work thing. We going?”

  “Yup. All my people have split up or dipped,” Chris said. “Tonya bailed after Mere kept giving her the evil eye all night, Angel and Steph had another fight, and David and Ray went home super early like the couple of boring fucks they are. So I’m all yours.”

  Jace bounced in place. “Did you send Scottie home?”

  I nodded. Our QFindr driver had long since gone.

  “I can call a—” The phone rang again, and I sucked my teeth. “Fuckin’ A, let me take care of this. You get a taxi.”

  “On it.” Jace grabbed Chris’s jacket and hauled him towards the exit. “Meet us outside?”

  “Sounds good.” I watched them walk out, trailing behind them slowly, and called Clive back as soon as there was distance between me and the music. “Bro, what the fuck?”

  “Don’t call me bro,” he rasped through the phone.

  My brows drew down. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Nothing.” Clive cleared his throat. “How’s the wedding?”

  “Uh. It’s . . . fine?”

  “Fine?”

  I frowned, wondering where the hell this was going. “Yeah, it’s fine. It’s a fucking wedding, Clive. What’s the deal?”

  He cleared his throat again and this time, when he spoke, his deep voice was clearer. “There’s no deal. I was just checking in.”

  “About . . . the state of the wedding?” I scoffed and couldn’t help teasing him about his ex-boyfriend getting married. “What’d you think, they said fuck it and canceled?” When silence greeted the question, I stopped walking and stared at the wall. “Clive, tell me you weren’t fucking expecting the wedding to not have happened?”

  “No,” he growled. “You think I’m an idiot? They’ve been in love for twenty years.”

  “So . . . then . . .”

  “So then nothing. Forget I called.”

  Sensing a click in my future, I said quickly, “The grooms already took off. Right now, everyone is just partying, so I’m taking off too.”

  “I see.” There was another loaded pause as I waited for the elevator to follow Chris and Jace downstairs. “They going on a honeymoon?”

  “I imagine so?”

  “Where?”

  “Clive,” I said with forced patience. “Jace helped plan the wedding, but I don’t know the entire itinerary of their lives. For all I know, their honeymoon is them fucking for a week straight in their own home without anyone bugging them.”

  Clive laughed softly. “That sounds like Michael. He likes being low key. I’m surprised he wanted this big ceremony at all.”

  Oh fuck. This was really happening. The conversation we’d been tiptoeing around for weeks. Where was Caleb when I needed him?

  “Listen, buddy—“

  “Don’t start that dude shit with me, Fairbairn,” Clive said flatly. “I don’t need your platitudes.”

  “Buddy isn’t—” The loud ding of the elevator startled me. Rolling my eyes, I stepped inside. “Look, do you want me to come by? You’re on my way home.”

  “You live in Long Island City. I live in Whitestone.”

  “Okay, but it’s still in Queens. I could send the boys back to the house—”

  Clive sighed through the phone, and that’s when I knew he was drunk. My only two pieces of evidence were the subject matter and the tremble in his exhale, but I knew. I’d drank with the man often enough to have figured out his tells, and they all came out whenever his ex-lover, Michael Rodriguez, was the topic of conversation.

  The elevator hit the ground floor, and I stepped out.

  “Clive, talk to me, man. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Dude—” I stumbled over the word because he hated it, and also because Jace was sucking on Chris’s neck and grinding against him as they waited for the cab. Chris’s eyes were shut, and his lips were twisted up in a dreamy smile. “Clive,” I stammered. “Listen, I’m here for you. I promise. Whatever you need to get off your chest, I’m here.”

  “No. I shouldn’t have called. I’ll let you go.”

  Jace dropped his hand between their bodies. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he’d just grabbed judging by the low groan that dripped from Chris’s mouth like liquid sex. This entire situation was culminating into a huge flashing FML sign, but I couldn’t hang up on Clive.

  “If you hang up, you’re guaranteeing I come by your place,” I said. “And you don’t want my big drunk sweaty ginger ass slamming around your perfectly decorated house, so . . .”

  For the first time, Clive laughed. It was that low rich baritone laugh that had initially warmed me to him.

  “Ah, Aiden,” he said with a sigh. “You really are the big brother.”

  “Uh, the big brother you once kissed, so let’s not go too far down that line of reasoning.”

  “No lies detected.” I could hear the smile in Clive’s voice, but it didn’t change the heaviness. “I’m just thinking a lot. Thinking and alone and wondering. Regretting.”

  Jace wrenched away from Chris as the cab rolled up outside. He headed for the door and Chris bear-hugged him from behind, causing them to stumble out of the building like a couple of drunken teens. They laughed, and I walked behind them.

  “What are you regretting?”

  “Everything.” Clive exhaled again, heavier this time. “Lying.”

  “Lying to who?” I asked, getting in behind Chris and shutting the door. “What are you talking about, pal?”

  Jace rattled off our address to the cab driver and then draped himself over Chris and cuddled up for the ride.

  “I’m talking about Michael. I regret lying to Michael.”

  Holy shit, this conversation was real
ly happening. There was something surreal about that reality considering Clive was usually the calmest and most straight-faced guy I’d ever met. It took a miracle for him to crack a smile and two miracles for him to show an emotion.

  “You mean about cheating on him,” I said.

  “Yes. Maybe we wouldn’t have broken up if I hadn’t given him an out. And maybe . . .”

  “Hey, Clive, come on.”

  “Come on what?” he demanded. “I handed him to Nunzio on a silver fucking platter, and I’ve never spoken to him again. And the worst part is that he’s everywhere now. Entwined in my life because all of his people associate with my people, and I cannot fucking escape.”

  His voice broke somewhere in the middle, and my stomach bottomed out. I actually had chills.

  Turning towards the window, I lowered my voice and said, “You’re just feeling this hard right now because of the wedding. That’s it.”

  “That’s not it, Aiden,” he said with a dull laugh. “I feel it every time I hear his name. Every time I go home alone. Every time I have a minute to stop and think about where we could have been if I hadn’t given up.”

  “You didn’t give up. You just knew . . .” Fuck, that wasn’t going to make anything better. “Look, you weren’t right for each other. We’ve talked about this, man. Don’t let this wedding get to your head like this. You weren’t happy with him either. It wasn’t just about you not being the right one.”

  Clive inhaled and exhaled again, slower this time. “You’re right.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes. You are.” He cleared his throat. “I’m drunk, depressed, and all I can think about is where all of you are.”

  “Exactly,” I enthused. “And you’ll be fine tomorrow. Fuck, dude, the night is young. Go on Grindr and find some hot Italian tough guy from Whitestone who likes being pounded after a long day of hiding his sexuality.”

  This time, Clive’s laugh was more genuine. Warmer.

  “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, Aiden. I appreciate it.”

  “Always, man,” I said firmly. “Fucking always.”

  We hung up, but his voice was embedded in my mind. The heaviness of someone who was so lonely, it followed him around like a shadow. The worst part was that I had no idea what to say to make him feel better because . . . I would never know what it felt like to be so utterly alone.

  I glanced to the side and saw Jace had dozed off pressed into Chris’s side. Chris was relaxed against him, but his eyes were partially open as he gazed out the window. He had one arm around Jace and the other extended behind me. I wondered if it was deliberate.

  Taking it as an invitation, I slid closer to him and planted a kiss against his jaw.

  “Everything okay?” he asked quietly. “Sounded kinda intense.”

  “It was, but I think it’ll be fine.”

  Chris nodded slowly, watching me from beneath long eyelashes. “You’re a good friend.”

  Sighing, I tilted my head onto his shoulder. “I try.”

  His fingers closed around my shoulder, squeezing, and I closed my eyes. My brain kept wanting to turn Clive’s words over and over, but I forced them out to focus on this moment. The warm breeze coming through the window, the weight of the men next to me, and the easy comfort of us all being together.

  The Holiday Party

  December

  Aiden Fairbairn

  * * *

  I was at a holiday party thrown by my two business partners, but all I could focus on was how fine Chris was looking.

  With his backwards Yankees cap, tan Timberland boots, dark jeans sagging just below his underwear band, a tight black shirt that hugged the torso he’d been working out more than usual, and a bomber jacket, I was salivating.

  Since entering the world of New York’s elite about a decade ago, me and Jace had only fucked around with guys who wore wing tips, suits, and Fifth Avenue designer button downs. Those were the people we’d had access to at Liberty X—a sex club with a contract so secure, outing anyone might get you sued. But now things had changed, and I didn’t want that anymore. Neither did Jace.

  We wanted Chris.

  But he kept running.

  Correction—he’d fall into bed with us, usually at a social outing such as a party or QFindr event, and then after a night of intense pleasure . . . he’d run. Most recently, he’d run and quit responding to our text messages. It had hurt to think he only wanted us when he was tipsy or in party mode. But right now he wasn’t drunk. Not yet. I wanted him to talk to me while sober.

  I drained my champagne glass and dragged my eyes away from where he was having an overly in-depth conversation about cooking with Oli. They’d been talking forever, and it was starting to irritate me. Sure, it was Caleb and Oli’s Christmas party at their enormous penthouse, but what a way to cockblock.

  I took out my phone and shot my brother-in-law a text.

  Aiden: Can you fuck off so I can get Chris alone? Please.

  Just as his phone chimed, I swept my eyes over their giant space. There were people literally everywhere. QFindr staff and all the friends they’d collected over the past two years. There was so much comingling between different sets of friend groups that it was impressive the way Caleb and Oli had gotten everyone together. Which also made it harder to spot my short husband amid all the tall men hanging out.

  I found him living his best life, sitting in the middle of an enormous yet sleek sectional surrounded by Valdrin, Nunzio, Raymond, and Angel. They were watching football. I’m pretty sure he was just fantasizing about a gang bang.

  Smirking, I caught his eye. He sat up a little straighter, uncurling himself from Angel—also known as one of the few straight people in the room—and cocked his head. I nodded toward Chris then flicked my gaze to the staircase.

  Jace’s eyes lit up. He started to stand, but wound up with a lapful of Ashton. The willowy blond wrapped his arms around Jace’s neck and started talking immediately.

  Holy shit. These people.

  Jace settled back against the sofa, his entire expression the definition of a sigh, and looked at me again. Warm him up for me, he mouthed.

  Hell yeah.

  I shot him a thumbs up and realized someone had been watching our entire exchange. Raymond Rodriguez. Also known as, Chris’s overprotective and distrustful best friend.

  Fuck.

  He looked from me to Jace then to Chris before looking back at me. His eyes narrowed.

  I shrugged and turned away to go bust up the Oli Cooking Show. I could deal with Raymond later.

  “Hey,” I said, loping up to the counter. I slid an arm around Chris’s shoulders. “Can I borrow Mr. Mendez for a second?”

  Chris’s mouth curved up into a half-smile, and Oli just gave me an obviously dirty smirk. “Go for it. The downstairs spare bedroom is being used as a coat room. If you fuck upstairs, Caleb will shank you.”

  “Ay dios . . .” Chris mumbled, ducking his head.

  I nudged Chris away from the kitchen as he mumbled to himself in Spanish. Probably saying something not too favorable about how obvious I was being in front of the entire world and his grumpy bestie, but we needed to talk. After I got my hands on him.

  I glanced around just as quickly, saw David was now standing in front of Raymond, distracting him, and I hustled Chris out of the kitchen. The spare bedroom was down a short hallway and the door was tucked in a little alcove. He walked inside willingly, but showed some resistance once I kicked the door shut and backed him up against a wall.

  “Whoa,” he said. “No hello? Small talk? You just go straight to grabbing my dick?”

  “How about straight to sucking it?”

  “Uh, well, I mean, if that’s what you wanna do . . . I guess . . .”

  I pinned him against the wall with my palms pressed on either side of his face. Judging from the mischievous glint in his eyes, and the way he couldn’t keep a straight face, he was definitely joking. I gave him a side eye and rolled my crotch
against his, making sure he could feel how hard I already was for him. He broke down and draped his arms around my waist, yanking me even closer and squeezing my ass.

  “Why do we only get to fuck around when we’re at a party?”

  Chris shrugged. “Cause that’s when we see each other?”

  “And that turns into every couple of months. A man is prone to dehydrate if he can only get a taste of you once a quarter.”

  He sucked his teeth, but that tiny smile kept growing. “You’re doing the most right now.”

  “I’m speaking nothing but truth,” I countered.

  “Uh-huh. The way y’all be fucking around at Liberty X, you’re not exactly deprived of some bonus fun by not seeing me.”

  Scoffing, I used one hand to slide between us, starting with the center of his chest and then moving down. “People aren’t interchangeable, sweetheart. You have a special place in our bedroom. Most people don’t even get through the front door. We keep them at the club. And before you, we didn’t do repeats.”

  Chris said nothing, just watched me from beneath long eyelashes as I popped the button of his jeans, then yanked down his zipper over the heavy bulge pressing against his fly. His tongue flicked out and I leaned in to touch my own to it before pulling back again.

  “How about you?” I asked once I got his jeans sagging further down his ass.

  He pressed his shoulders against the wall and arched his hips, pressing his bulge against my cupped hand. “What about me . . . what?”

  “What’ve you been doing for sex?”

  Chris shrugged, still rocking against my hand. “I was talking to someone for a minute.” I stopped squeezing his dick and studied him. His gaze was still on my hand, but it rose once I paused. “What?”

  What in-fucking-deed? Six words, and a jolt of jealousy had hurtled through me like a bullet train. It had started at irritation and pulled to a stop in worried. All kinds of nonsense went through my head—why he’d been talking to someone else when we’d given him an open invitation to come spend time with us? Whether he really liked the other person? Maybe that was why he was scarce. Maybe he’d soon be off limits—