The Triangle

by JA Huss

  Alec is still holding Danny’s cock. His fist tightens around his shaft, making Danny suck in a breath and hold it.

  “Christine. She was…” And now Alec’s eyes lift up to mine, just as his face hovers over Danny’s. “A little bonus. And yeah, nunu, I fell in love with you that day too. I mean not nearly the way I am now, but it was love. There was something. It was real.”

  Alec starts grinding his hips against Danny’s cock. Slowly. Back and forth. So slowly.

  None of us dare move. There is only the sound of our breath. And this time, when he leans down to kiss Danny, it’s different.

  Danny responds and I stay absolutely still as I watch their lips meld together. I am mesmerized by their contrasting jawlines. Danny’s week-old stubble. Alec’s just a few days’ worth. I get glimpses of tongues, and teeth. And when they groan and growl, I moan with them.

  Alec pulls back, his hand taking mine as he sits up and eases me forward over Danny’s face.

  “There you go,” he says. “Yes, just like that,” as he places my hips directly over Danny’s eager tongue and pushes down on my lower back.

  “Oh… fuck,” I whisper, as the first swipe tickles past my opening. And when he flicks it against my clit I can’t stop myself. I press into him. Sinking down on his face. Seeking out the rough edges of his jaw. Loving the way the stubble feels against the soft, tender skin between my legs.

  Alec, ever the facilitator, pushes my head down towards Danny’s rock-hard cock and my hands automatically reach forward to grab his shaft.

  I’m fully bent over now. Danny’s finger finds its way inside me. And then his large hand spreads my cheeks so his thumb can massage the tight pucker of my ass.

  Alec, still balanced over top of Danny’s thighs, says, “I get it, man.”

  Danny pauses. His mouth still against my dripping wet pussy.

  “I gave you so many reasons not to trust me. I showed you who I was, after all. The real me. So I don’t blame you for being cautious or wanting some grand gesture of commitment. So how about I give you something better than a ring, yeah?”

  Alec pushes me aside and takes Danny’s cock from my hands. He says, “Stay close, nunu. I’ve got something for you too.” And then his mouth covers the head of Danny’s cock.

  “Motherfucker,” Danny says, lifting his hips up to thrust deeper inside Alec. He squeezes my ass cheeks, then slaps them, making me grunt from the sharp sting. But he’s too distracted to keep licking me. And I don’t mind that one bit. I want him to have that needy ache for us the way we have it for him.

  So I rise up on my knees, Grab Alec’s shoulders, digging my fingernails into his hard flesh, and settle my clit against Danny’s chin so I can fuck his face.

  I grind on him. Just as Danny grinds on Alec. And poor Alec. No one has his cock in their hands, or their mouth.

  I want to fix that. I want all the sides of this triangle to be equal. So I duck under Alec’s muscled arm, reach for his cock, and begin to stroke him.

  “Oh, yes,” he breathes out around Danny’s swollen tip. “I like that very much, thank you.”

  I want to suck him. I want to suck them both. I want them to be inside me at the same time. I want all of them…

  And just when I think there’s no possible way to feel more…

  Danny begins to lick me again. His fingers bang inside me. One, then two, then… Oh, Jesus Christ, that’s exactly what I’ve been waiting for. I grind harder on his face. My clit bumping up against his chin. Everything is wet. I feel like I’m dripping. My fingertips slide between my legs, scoop it up, and then grab Alec’s cock again so I can share it with him.

  My hand slides effortlessly up and down his shaft. Alec’s sucking noises are driving me crazy. Danny’s fingers, and his chin, and my hips, and his hips, and…

  I come.

  Moaning and writhing. And the second the release escapes, I want more.

  More of them. More of us. More of everything.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - DANNY

  I don’t know what the fuck is happening. All I know is… it feels like… I can’t even describe it. Alec is sucking my cock like he worships it. And he’s right, it’s better than a ring. Tells me way more than a ring ever could. More than words ever could.

  Christine’s come is all over my face. Her body went stiff, just like before. The perfect little tell. I like the way her legs trembled when she climaxed. I like the way her pussy quivered and clamped around my fingers and I want that to be my cock. I want to be inside her and… and I want Alec to be inside her too. I want to feel him fuck her as I fuck her. I want to feel his balls tighten against mine as we come inside her.

  I push Christine forward and she slumps over onto my chest, her breath hot against my sweat-slicked stomach.

  “Turn around,” I say. “And put me inside you.”

  “Oh, my God,” she whispers. But she does it. And Alec helps her.

  His eyes meet mine when he sits up, and he smiles. His hand is still working my dick. Like if there’s any possible chance I’ll soften before Christine lowers her pussy over me, he’s gonna be there to save the moment.

  There is no chance of that.

  Christine is facing me now. Her hips hovering over mine. Her hand grasping my cock, guiding it to her deliciously wet pussy. And the moment I enter her is one I will remember for the rest of my life.

  It is pure bliss. It is everything I’ve ever wanted. Better than the first time. Better than the second time. Because this time I’m hers. And I give in. I’m his too.

  Being all in makes a difference. It changes everything.

  “Stop thinking so hard, my boet,” Alec says. “Enjoy it, man.”

  “I am,” I moan out. “It can’t get any better than this.”

  He mumbles something like, “Give me a little credit.”

  And then Alec pushes Christine forward so her face is tucked up against my neck. I hug her around the waist as Alec thrusts his hips forward.

  I expect him to take her in the ass. But that’s not what he has in mind.

  The tip of his cock presses along my shaft, his fingers wrapped tightly around it as he pushes…

  Christine squeals as I imagine the lips of her pussy stretching to accommodate his considerable girth. She tries to sit up and ease the pain, but I hold her tight and whisper, “I love you,” over and over into her ear.

  Then the tension breaks and he’s inside her. We’re both inside her.

  “Oh. My fucking. God!” Christine says.

  “Too much?” I ask, pushing the hair away from her face.

  She responds by thrusting her hips back. Forcing us both to go deeper inside her.

  Alec leans over her back, his arms braced, palms flat on the floor on either side of my shoulders. Our eyes meet and… and we smile.

  His eyes say, I told you so.

  Mine say, Fuck off.

  We are slick with sweat as we slide into a rhythm. Christine rebels against my tight hold on her, so I ease my grip and allow her to sit up a little. Her hair hangs down, brushing against her tits, and my chest, and my face.

  She leans over, kisses my mouth, and begins to moan again.

  And that’s when Alec sits back up, smacks both her ass cheeks, then grips them tightly as he pounds her from behind. Just. Pounds her.

  Us.

  Her.

  Us.

  Her.

  The friction of our dicks inside Christine’s pussy is overwhelming, but in all the right ways. I don’t know how it feels for her—judging from the way she’s now screaming. “Oh, God, yes! Yes! Oh, my God! Yes!” I’m gonna go out on a limb and say fantastic—but it’s a million times better with him than without him.

  “Shit,” Alec moans. “Fuck.”

  I think he’s gonna come. I get irrationally proud that I can outlast him, even when were in the middle of the best sex I’ve ever had.

  And just when I think victory is mine, he grabs my hair, forces me up into a sitting position,
still fucking the shit out of us as Christine slumps against my chest, fully spent, and kisses me on the mouth.

  I explode.

  And two seconds later, so does he.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - ALEC

  BEFORE

  The feeling of their hands on my back as they trace the lines of my new tattoo is making me hard. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. For years.

  From the first time I saw Danny, I knew I needed him. He possessed something naturally that I had to condition myself to attain.

  Grit.

  Grit is indefinable. But it is something that says you will not be cowed. You will not be broken. You will stare down the oncoming torrent and whisper in its face, “I am the storm,” and all that.

  That is who Danny is. Organically. In his bones. I had to learn to be that way. And I learned it, in no small measure, from him.

  For that, and for so many other things too innumerable to mention, I have loved him.

  And somewhere along the way, that love became desire. Yes, of course, it’s sexual. Danny’s just fokken sexy. There would be something wrong with me if I didn’t feel that way about him. But it is more than that.

  It is that by joining with Danny, fully, entirely, perhaps I can become part of him and he can become part of me. And we will become greater than the sum of those parts.

  I already feel stronger, more resilient, since Christine and I have formed our union. I want so much for Danny to be a part of it with us. I want him to know the euphoric serenity that comes of feeling absolute. Of feeling whole.

  And tonight is the night that happens.

  “Jesus, man,” Danny mutters. “That’s a hell of a piece for your first one.”

  “Well,” I say, “as you always tell me, ‘Go big or go fok yourself.’”

  Danny and Christine laugh.

  What I don’t tell him is that I wanted him to be impressed. I wanted him to have this reaction. Every piece of ink on his body reflects something he’s experienced. Something he’s endured and survived. Something that has meaning for him.

  Nothing has more meaning for me than him and Christine. Nothing ever has. Nothing ever will. And if I’m only going to do this once, I wanted to make it count.

  I turn to face them, and their hands stay on my torso as I pivot around. They are both touching my chest. This is the moment I’ve been holding onto in my imagination. I smile at Christine. She smiles back. She leans in to kiss me. Our lips touch. And having Danny’s hand on my chest at the same time feels like… Nomathemba.

  “Hope.”

  But then, tragically, the hope fades away. Along with Danny’s hand. I grab for his wrist and pull him back into us. Christine turns her kiss from me and places it on Danny’s mouth instead.

  He resists, but I hold them together. Then he pushes me away, pushes her away, and steps back, saying, “No. No. No,” over and over again. To himself as much as to the two of us.

  “What?” Christine asks. “Danny, come on…” She moves toward him, and he retreats further.

  “Fuck off,” he says, pointing a warning finger. “I mean it.”

  “Come on, bru,” I tell him, moving in his direction. He has his fists up now. “Danny. Don’t, man. It’s all right,” I implore a bit, advancing further, my hands up in a gesture that’s intended to look non-threatening.

  But all it really does is expose my midsection to the shot that hits my stomach.

  “Fok, bru!”

  “Jesus! Danny, stop!” Christine shouts as she runs over to tend to me.

  “God damn it!” Danny shouts, punching at the sides of his head like he’s trying to jostle his brains into a new space.

  “Danny, Danny, stop. Come on. What is it?” Christine asks, moving to him now. Trying to calm him somehow.

  “We can’t!” he shouts.

  “Can’t what?” she asks. “Can’t what? We can, Danny. We can do anything. We can have anything. We can. It’s OK.”

  He shakes his head. “We can’t!” he shouts again. “It isn’t fucking real, goddamn it!”

  “What isn’t?” She’s pleading with him now. Just moments ago, everything was perfection. Which is all I want. And now everything is shit. Cocked up and dangling by threads of almost-was.

  Part of me wants to hit him back. Part of me wants to just pound some goddamn sense into him. Or pound some goddamn resistance out of him. Either way.

  But I know that the second I lay a fist on Danny in anger… we will be done.

  So instead, I just slump to the floor and sit there as Danny pulls away from Christine and retreats into another part of the suite. She chases after him. Leaving me there alone. The lights of Sydney twinkling in the distance.

  Fok, man.

  I couldn’t have been more goddamn wrong.

  Shit.

  I guess tonight is not the night.

  NOW

  “Fuck is this?” Danny asks.

  “Rooibos,” I say, placing the steaming mug in front of him. “You don’t like rooibos? Everyone likes rooibos.”

  “I don’t,” he says.

  “Fine. I also have chamomile, hibiscus, peppermint—”

  “Yeah, you got a fuckin’ beer?”

  I smile and chuckle at him. “Sure, bru. I got you a brew.” I say the second part in my tragically inept American accent.

  He laughs a little bit and shakes his head as I open the fridge and pull out a bottle of cold beer for my old friend. From where he sits at the kitchen island, he glances over his shoulder and says, “Fuckin’ incredible, huh?”

  I look at where he’s observing Christine curled up in an oversized, tufted lounge chair. Fast asleep. “Yes, it is. Never known anything like it. I envy her.”

  “Being able to sleep anywhere?” he asks.

  “Being able to sleep at all.”

  I pop the cap and hand him the bottle. He offers me a ‘cheers’ and takes a sip. I sit across from him, sipping my tea. After a moment, I break the silence.

  “So, Danny—”

  “How long you had this place?” he interrupts.

  “Oh, I don’t know. A while.”

  “Yeah?” he says, taking another sip from the bottle. “Why’d you get it? You don’t have enough places?”

  “There will never be enough places,” I tell him.

  He laughs a bit. Sort of a half-resigned, half-contemptuous laugh.

  “Danny?” I say.

  He waits, as if I’m being rhetorical. I’m not. I genuinely want his permission to go on before saying more.

  Finally, he says, “Yeah?”

  “I think about you every day, man.” He eyes me cautiously. “I mean it. I don’t say your name out loud because… Because I don’t. But I think about you all the time. Wondering if you’re doing all right.”

  He nods. Licks at his lips. Says, “Are you waiting on me to tell you that I think about you all the time too?”

  “No.”

  “Because I don’t.”

  “OK.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I believe you.”

  That hangs in the room as I sip my tea and he picks at the label on his beer bottle. Then, quite unexpectedly if I’m being honest, he says, “You know why, right?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why I don’t. Why I can’t. Why I couldn’t. Before.”

  While I don’t think he’s being rhetorical, I don’t prompt a response. I just sit and wait for him to decide if he feels like baring himself further.

  He does.

  “It’s because of the cost,” he says.

  I cock my head to the side. “Which cost? Sorry, man. You’ll have to explain. You know I rarely take cost into consideration.”

  He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Couple things, I guess.” He takes another drink before putting the bottle down and saying, “With Christine… well, I mean, shit. With her. She was a kid. Y’know. Seen her grow up. Watched every fucking minute. Just felt. I dunno.”

  I nod
. I do understand him. Were I saddled with a conscience, I likely would have felt the same.

  “But then add you… you and her…” He breathes in deeply, letting it out in a long sigh through his nose. “The way I survive… the way I’ve always survived and been able to keep going… is by never letting myself believe that I care about or… love… anything enough to be beholden to it. You know what I’m saying?”

  I take a moment and nod. “I believe I do.”

  “If you don’t love anything… if you can walk away from anything at any time… they can’t hurt you. They can’t get to you. You know that shit you said earlier about us being stronger together than apart or whatever?”

  I nod again.

  “Yeah. I don’t see it that way. I felt like if I ever gave over… if I let myself really fuckin’ give in to my feelings and shit… that’d be like fuckin’ kryptonite to me. Because then I’d have something in my life that would be too precious to lose. And if I did lose it, I wouldn’t be able to bounce back.”

  He tips his head back and says, “You two always saw me as the conscience or the fuckin’ cautious one or whatever.”

  He looks down at the island in front of where he sits. Shakes his head a tiny bit. Scrunches the corners of his eyes like he’s deciding how to say what it is that he wants to say and then starts with, “Shit isn’t morals, man.”

  Then he pauses. Picks at the label on the beer bottle once again. He pushes the bottle away, sits back, and says…

  “It’s self-preservation.”

  That hangs in the air as we keep eye contact. It takes a long, long while before whatever this odd lump is that has formed in my throat diminishes enough that I can try to speak.

  I’m just about to respond when I hear a sound from across the room. A yawning sound. A tiny squeaking yawn that makes my heart fill with yearning.

  Christine stretches out like a cat, blinks her eyes open, and says, “Did I fall asleep?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY - CHRISTINE

  “You could fall asleep in the middle of a goddamned hurricane,” Danny says, answering my fake question.