Misfits

by Garrett Leigh

  “Nah, not now we’ve got FaceTime. Means we can swap nudey pictures whenever we want.”

  Nudey pictures? Jake was intrigued, but Cass slowly grinding them together intrigued him more. His brain and his body often felt disconnected, but as he responded to Cass, he felt in sync for the first time in years.

  Cass said something else. Jake ignored him and slid his hands over Cass’s bare chest. The piercing caught his eye again, and he wondered what it would feel like between his teeth. What it would feel like for Cass if he pulled on it. Would it hurt? Or would it be the best kind of pain? The kind of pain that sent a man into that hazy place where nothing mattered but the touch of his lover.

  “Jake?”

  Jake jumped. Cass wrapped his arms around him and pulled him even closer. Jake hid his tics in Cass’s chest for a moment, breathing him in while Cass played with his hair and hummed a tune that had nothing to do with the deep dubstep pulsing in the club.

  Jake raised his head. “Why are you humming the West Ham song? Thought you were a Charlton boy?”

  “My nana used to sing me that song when I had bad dreams.”

  Jake recalled a time West Ham had come to Leeds to play an FA Cup tie. He never went to the game, but he remembered the crowds of hard-eyed Londoners roaming the city, singing their sweet song and terrifying the locals. It hadn’t seemed much of a lullaby, but the words . . .

  I’m forever blowing bubbles,

  Pretty bubbles in the air,

  They fly so high, nearly reach the sky,

  Then like my dreams they fade and die.

  Yeah, he could see it, and more than that, in the dark of the club, he saw a flash of pain in Cass’s brooding gaze. Jake touched Cass’s face, his jaw, his cheeks, and his eyelids. There was something deep and raw in Cass he didn’t understand, and he couldn’t stand to see him hurting.

  They stared at each other for a long time before their lips met, then Jake felt himself being sucked into a vortex he hadn’t felt even with Tom. A heady black hole where there was nothing but heat . . . heat and the scent of a man he’d never believed he’d truly want.

  Cass.

  Jake bit down on Cass’s bottom lip and shoved his hand into Cass’s hair. He deepened the kiss and lost himself until Cass pulled away with a strangled groan, his eyes wide, shocked, like Jake had turned his world upside down. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Jake caught another glimpse of the vulnerability he’d never seen in Cass before tonight. Then a hand touched him that wasn’t Cass, a hand that grounded Jake. Centred him, and tied him down to the world.

  Tom.

  “Let’s take this home.”

  Home for the night turned out to be the Hampstead flat. They were all too drunk to be bothered with traipsing back to the house.

  The cab ride home was interesting. Tom led the way, while Cass and Jake trailed behind, holding hands, touching, and stealing kisses when no one was looking. To an outsider, Jake supposed it appeared that he and Cass were the couple, and Tom was the burly, overprotective friend, guarding them, watching over them. Standing in front of them when someone glanced their way just a beat too long.

  Jake would’ve found the situation bizarre if he hadn’t been so wrapped up in Cass. So completely and utterly under his spell. In the space of a few hours, Cass had gone from being a man Jake had grown to love as a friend, to a man he couldn’t get enough of. Even with Tom right there, watching them. Seeing it all.

  They stumbled out of the cab in Hampstead, Cass still shirtless. The flat was right across the road. They were inside before Jake could blink, and then Tom pulled him from Cass and pushed him against the wall.

  His kiss was slow and sweet before he drew back with a soft grin. “We haven’t been here for a while.”

  Jake swallowed. Cass was like a drug—tempting and addictive—but Tom . . . Tom was where it had all begun. Jake buzzed. “You only bring me here to fuck me.”

  “Not on purpose.” Tom kissed Jake again. “It just worked out that way.”

  Jake wasn’t complaining. Tom released him from his cage against the wall. He seemed calmer now than he had when he’d seized Jake from Cass, like he’d satisfied himself of a doubt he’d never voiced.

  Cass. Shit. Cass. Jake looked for him. Found him standing a few feet away, his coat and shoes still on and his hand on the front door, like he was planning a quick getaway.

  Jake’s stomach turned over.

  “Cass, don’t go.” Jake held out his hand. He didn’t know what was going to go down tonight, and drunk as he was, he knew he wasn’t ready to have sex with Cass, but fuck, he didn’t want him to leave.

  Cass seemed torn, and Jake felt desperate, though for what, he wasn’t quite sure.

  Tom stepped between them. He turned his back on Jake and gave Cass his full attention. “Don’t you dare run from us now. It’s Christmas Day. We’re not going to bed without you.”

  Us. We.

  Jake couldn’t hear Cass’s response, but he saw Cass’s coat drop to the floor well enough. Heard the stuttered gasp of a crazy-hot kiss. He thought maybe he should leave, catch the last train to Berkhamsted, and give Tom and Cass a night alone.

  Then two hands reeled him in, and he found himself sandwiched between them, Cass in front and Tom at his back. Lips on his mouth, and lips at his neck.

  Jake gasped, shocked at the double-edged pleasure. Cass’s kiss was electric, and combined with Tom’s attention to his throat, the spark between them all went through the stratosphere. He fell slack, leaning on Tom’s solid warmth. “Why is this bit so easy?”

  Cass moved to claim Jake’s neck as his. Tom chuckled and nipped Jake’s ear. “Because articulating it is so hard.”

  “Hard like you?” Jake ground himself into Tom, feeling the outline of his cock, remembering the stretch and burn of Tom pushing inside him.

  “Or you.” Tom unbuttoned Jake’s jeans and squeezed tight enough to make Jake’s eyes roll. “Not sure we should do this in the hallway, though.”

  Something told Jake that Tom and Cass needed him to lead the way, prove to them how much he wanted this. He disentangled himself from Tom, pulled his shirt over his head, and walked to the bedroom, trusting that they would follow.

  Cass reached him first. They kissed and fell onto the bed together. Jake strained his senses for Tom, but for a moment, there was no one else, only Cass.

  Cass broke the kiss and caught Jake’s chin. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not cool with, okay? This, between you and me, this is enough for me tonight. I want you, but I can wait. I will wait. With Tom . . .”

  Jake licked his lips, his breath caught in his chest. This was what he’d been waiting for all along—limits, ground rules. For Cass to take some possession of his lover.

  Cass touched Jake’s cheek. “With Tom, you can do what you like. Don’t worry about me . . . what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling. Just be you and Tom, together, like you’re meant to be.”

  Jake wondered if Cass had planned to be so poetic, or if the booze had made him that way. Beneath it all, he felt relief that Cass didn’t want to push their boundaries any further that night. Too much too soon could break them, and they both knew it.

  The bed dipped. Tom lay down beside them, shirtless. Jake turned into his arms as he felt Cass slide into place behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. “You’re still going to kiss me, right?”

  “Try and bloody stop me.”

  No more words were needed. Jake kissed Cass so hard he could hardly breathe, then he turned his attention to Tom, dancing the dance they’d rehearsed before. Clothes disappeared, Tom’s first, then Jake’s, then they started to strip Cass.

  “I just want to watch you,” Cass protested.

  “You can,” Tom said. “Naked, right, Jake?”

  Jake hummed his agreement. Cass was as beautiful bare as he had been shirtless in the dim light of a smoky nightclub. He stared at Cass’s cock. He wanted to touch it, but not yet. Not yet.

  Cass
lay on his back. Jake climbed over him and kissed him. He felt Tom behind and raised his body up. Tom rubbed Jake’s thighs and his back. Blew warm air over his spine until he finally—finally—touched Jake where he needed it most. Lubed fingers first, and then his tongue.

  Oh God, his tongue.

  Jake groaned into Cass’s mouth, feeling him deepen their embrace, consume him with a fiery, biting kiss until Jake saw stars. He buried himself in Cass’s chest, writhing. “Tom.”

  Tom pulled back and kissed his way up Jake’s spine. Jake heard him kiss Cass, then felt the latex-covered head of his cock push against him. “This what you want, Jake?”

  “Fuck yeah.”

  He couldn’t look at Cass. Wasn’t sure he wanted to. All he knew was the blunt intrusion of Tom’s cock was seconds away, and it was too fucking long to wait.

  Cass took away his choice. Grabbed his hair and tugged until Jake found his gaze.

  Fire burned between them as Tom slid into Jake, stretching him, opening him. Jake’s eyes watered. Tom had never taken him from behind before and, fuck, it stung. Just for a moment, but it hurt.

  Cass held him tight and rubbed his back. Their closeness meant Jake could feel Cass’s cock against his. If he moved, he could rub them together, feel another kind of friction, but he couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but pant and wait for the all-consuming pressure to fade into something incredible.

  Looking back, Jake would be able to pinpoint the exact moment when the disjointed desire between the three of them fell into place. That moment when Tom began to move inside him, and Jake stared into Cass’s stormy eyes, and knew he’d found his home. But in that moment, Jake knew nothing . . . nothing, but the wildfire brewing deep in his belly.

  Time seemed to stop as Tom drew out every push and slide of his cock, but then everything got faster. The stuttered gasp of his lungs. The slap of flesh on flesh.

  Jake found Cass’s hands and clutched them. Don’t let go.

  Cass squeezed back. I’ve got you.

  “Touch yourself,” Tom said, breathless. “I want to see you come.”

  Jake reached for his cock, found Cass’s too. He licked his hand and gripped them both. Saw Cass’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush. “You too. Always you too.”

  His incoherent, pleasure-driven mumble made little sense, but Cass relaxed and folded his hands behind his head. Jake watched the rapid rise of his chest and knew they were all close to falling.

  He moved his hand faster to goad Cass into losing his cool, and behind him, Tom groaned.

  He likes this. Through the fog of feeling, Jake realised that every thrust of Tom’s hips pushed his dick into his hand . . . and into Cass’s dick. That Tom was in complete control of them all. What it would feel like if Jake raised Cass’s legs and pushed inside him too. If Tom really was fucking them both.

  Jake cried out. He spilled over his hand and onto Cass’s stomach. “Oh God.”

  So much for goading Cass.

  Cass wrapped his arms around him. “I’ve got you. Tom’s gonna come too. Can you feel him?”

  Tom groaned. Inside Jake, he pulsed and swelled, then came with the whispered gasp Jake remembered from their previous encounters. Tom was a quiet fuck.

  Warmth filled Jake. Though contained by the condom, it travelled through him into his blood and bones. He smiled, loopy with the beauty of it, and sank his teeth into Cass’s chest until Cass squirmed and let out a moan of pleasure.

  Jake lay still, boneless and dazed. The sticky mess between him and Cass was too much to be just his own, but he wasn’t sure. Pride kept him from raising his head and asking.

  Tom pulled out of Jake, slow and gentle, as always. Jake heard him murmur something, but felt too detached to pay much attention. The bed shifted. A cool breeze hit him as Tom got up and padded away. He shivered.

  Cass pushed his sweat-dampened hair back. “Roll over, Jake. Let me clean up our mess.”

  Jake rolled off Cass in a heap of soft arms and legs. “I didn’t know if you came.”

  “You’re joking, right?” Cass grabbed an errant pair of boxers and wiped them both down. “I was ready to bust before you even got started.”

  Cass tossed the underwear away and manoeuvred himself under the covers. He held the duvet up for Jake. “Get in.” Jake hesitated. Cass growled. “You leave this fucking bed, I’m coming too.”

  All right, then. Jake crawled into the bed and cuddled up to Cass. Tom came back in the room. Jake figured he’d get in Cass’s side, but he didn’t. He slipped in behind Jake and put his long arms around them both.

  “Everyone okay?”

  Cass and Jake hummed in unison. Tom laughed and kissed them both. “I’m so happy you’ve found each other.”

  Tom’s family were exactly as Jake expected them to be: warm and kind, and so bloody normal, it hurt. Jake didn’t know if Tom had warned them about his TS, but luckily for all of them, his blistering hangover hadn’t made his tics that much worse than usual, like his delinquent nervous system knew his pounding head couldn’t take any drama.

  It didn’t stop the curious stares of Tom’s nephews, but Jake could live with that. After a lifetime of disastrous family gatherings, it seemed a small price to pay.

  Tom and Cass stayed nearby for the first few hours, sandwiching him between them on the sofa in much the same way they’d fallen asleep the night before. Jake enjoyed their closeness—Tom’s strong thigh pressed against his, Cass’s palm a pulse point of warmth on his back—and he watched the rowdy Fearnes family exchange gifts through heavy eyes as he struggled to stay in the present.

  Waking up at the flat had been strange . . . in a good way. Tom, as Jake half expected, had been already up, washed, and dressed by the time Jake raised his head, but Cass had still been there, fast asleep, his arm clamped around Jake’s middle, and his left hand gripping Jake’s as tightly as Jake was gripping him in return.

  Jake had lain as still as possible and hoped his buzzing and popping wouldn’t disturb Cass, until Tom had come back in the room and smiled like the early morning sun.

  And Jake never did wake Cass. Apparently nothing did when he was hungover, and Jake had forgotten that Cass had worked a twelve-hour day before he’d finally sat down to eat his Christmas dinner. It was a shame they couldn’t have let him sleep in. The dawn car ride home had been brutal.

  Tom touched Jake’s arm. Jake jumped and realised Lily Fearnes, Tom’s mother, was holding out a small package with his name on. “Um . . . thanks, you didn’t have to get me a present.”

  Lily smiled. “It’s nothing much. We couldn’t leave you out.”

  He was glad she’d waited until most of the family were distracted with their own presents, because even though the credit card–sized external hard drive for his new laptop was a simple, unobtrusive gift, the thought of Tom discussing him with his mother made Jake blush, a lot, and the gesture of including him in their family Christmas almost made him cry.

  Almost. Jake thanked her and sank into the couch, hoping no one else had been so thoughtful.

  Beside him, Cass sniggered. “Think yourself lucky. The first Christmas I came here, they bought me a car.”

  Cass had muttered the words under his breath, but Tom’s father caught them and grinned. “That old Nova you drove was a death trap. I’m sure it only had three wheels.”

  “That’s my Del boy roots. Still don’t feel right driving a car without rust.”

  “Life moves on, son. Sometimes you have to leave your roots behind.”

  Jake couldn’t see Cass’s face, but he felt a ripple of tension run through him, felt the lazy rub on his back still and cool, like a part of Cass had clammed up and left the building. He’d noticed that before, the way Cass and Tom would both shut down when a conversation strayed too close to the missing pieces of Cass’s puzzle. Jake didn’t mind. Every soul was entitled to their secrets, but he didn’t like the creeping feeling that Cass was upset.

  Tom’s father turned away, his attention
diverted by one of the kids. Jake reached behind himself and found Cass’s hand. Cass squeezed back, but it wasn’t long before he got up and left the room.

  The day wore on. Jake fought his hangover, and an uncharacteristic urge to hide behind Tom, and eventually found himself constructing a LEGO fortress on the living room floor with Tom’s brother and a few of his nephews. Rich Fearnes didn’t say much, but Jake felt his gaze all over him as they worked, watching his quiet tics, glancing between him and Tom . . . and Cass, taking it in. Adding the three of them together and trying to find an answer.

  Jake didn’t envy him there, and he was ready when Rich finally found his tongue.

  “Have you been working for Tom and Cass long?”

  Jake concentrated a little too hard on adding the knights to the watchtower. He had a toddler perched on his lap, a chubby, milky bundle of flesh who’d taken a shine to him. Jake had worried at first he might tic and throw the kid right off, but his fears had proved unfounded. Little Josh was pretty soothing in his own, dribble-covered way. “About three months. Tom, um, recruited me in September to help him with the Camden project.”

  That was one way of putting it, though it had been October by the time Jake had actually taken a job at Urban Soul. Rich said nothing for a moment, distracted by one of the gaggle of small children on the floor with them, then he fixed Jake with a shrewd look. “Tom doesn’t let people help him with restaurant launches. You must have impressed him.”

  “Not really. Think he just needs more hours in the day.”

  Rich snorted. “Tom works too much; they both do. Are we building a moat?”

  Jake rummaged the scattered LEGO bricks and found some blue pieces. “We can try.”

  “What are you going to do when the Camden project is done? Are you going to stay with the company?”

  “Um, I don’t know. Maybe, if they want me to.” Jake tried to not to search the room for Tom. Last time he’d checked, Tom had been playing cards with his dad, both men wearing identical expressions of playful concentration.

  “Mate, I think that’s a given. Tom told me you designed the company a whole social media platform. I know he’s been looking for someone to do that for ages.”