by Julia Kent
I knew in my heart we were back together.
Now I needed to know it in every part of my body.
“We’re back,” I said. “Together and open.”
Four hands said yes.
I reached for Joe, both hands on his jaw, his day’s stubble scratchy and visceral. I leaned in for a kiss as Trevor’s hands reached around me, meeting at my belly. Joe’s tongue parted my lips and we sought each other out, little sighs and gasps deepening the moment. I wanted them, now. Did they want the same?
Trevor’s hands slid under my shirt, cupping both breasts as Joe crushed them in place by pulling me in for a kiss that made my skin suddenly break out in goosebumps.
We were definitely in sync.
“I have missed you so much,” I rasped as Trevor kissed my neck, peppering a trail to my mouth, his warm lips and tongue a delightful taste, one familiar and lovely.
“Your body is like an amusement park,” he said as his thumbs caressed my nipples, making me ache for more.
“You ride it too many times and it makes you puke?” I gave him a half-cocked smile.
The chuckle deep in his throat made me laugh, so happy to have them both again. “No. So much fun and an endless supply of heart-racing excitement.”
In the next ten seconds all three of us managed to get naked, hands flying and buttons undone, fasteners unfastened and cotton flung into the air. None of us seemed to want to take this slow. We all agreed, without a single word, that we just wanted the closeness, the sensual eagerness driven more by urgency than tenderness.
I wanted them in me, on me, under me—just with me. We’d always been great at the sex part of our relationship. Sex had a language of its own that couldn’t be replicated in verbal communication. The slip of a fingertip against the rolling lines of a comfortable curve. The frantic cling of fingertips against corded muscle. The clench of inner core as a climax tipped into unfettered pleasure. The delighted groan as a partner gave something new and unexpected, yet secretly craved. Only flesh on flesh could release an unspoken need between the three of us, and while we’d worked it all out verbally, now we needed to sign the deal with a robust commitment of the body.
The dim light made our skin glow with a sultry quality that elevated this as Joe guided me onto the bed and sucked one nipple, Trevor claiming its twin. I clenched and became so wet, my clit pulsing with the need to be touched and stroked, noticed and attended to as part of the natural layer of this lovemaking. My own hands gave as well, reaching to wrap around Trevor’s cock, the hiss of a short inhale from him telling me I’d hit the spot.
My other hand buried in Joe’s hair as he kissed his way down, down, down to where the rest of my words would be driven out by his fevered attentions.
“You’re so wet,” he murmured as his own ministrations added to that quality, two fingers sliding in me as a poor imitation for either of them, my body loving the touch of his tongue against my clit but wanting more. I needed them to fill me. As with so much of our relationship, we were really two sets of two in this moment, no matter how hard we tried to integrate.
There was only one way to truly be a gathering of three.
“You’re so beautiful,” Trevor added, his voice filled with emotion. “I’ve missed us. Not just you, Darla. But us. All three of us.”
We each made little sounds of agreement.
“Do you,” I whispered into the night, “have something?”
“In my wallet,” they murmured in unison, Joe’s lips against my V a vibration that made me arch up. Trevor wordlessly searched the piles of discarded clothes and returned with one condom, one hand holding it while the other stroked my breast, his hands unable to stop touching me. We were reveling in the permission again. The open consent to cross the invisible walls we all have that separate us as beings from each other. In this moment, those walls did not exist. We integrated when we touched. Not being connected felt like an emptiness to be avoided at all moments.
Touch was the cure.
“I want both of you,” I hissed. “Together. Now.” I could feel Joe’s smile against my inner thigh.
Trevor went to the clothes and came back with a second condom, handing it quietly to Joe. They both took care of their own as my body throbbed, aching to be filled, needing the transcendence that so much sensation would deliver.
Neither one asked if I was sure. They knew, too.
“If we’re doing this, we need—”
Joe grabbed his wallet and pulled out the packet of lube, just like when we were on Eden.
“Boy scout,” I teased.
“You never know when your best friend is going to call you, naked and high, and ask you to rescue him so you can meet the woman of your dreams and fall in love...with both of you.”
“For the second time,” Trevor added with a laugh in his voice.
My soul blossomed, opening to invite in the light of a love so great it made me part of Trevor and Joe, united into a single being whose soul was stronger than any singular one of us.
Joe stretched out on the bed, his body less a work of art—as I’d always admired it—and more just that of a man. A man I loved so deeply I wanted him to become a part of me. He pulled me over him, the heat of our sweaty skin regenerative, as if the love soaked through to the surface and radiated off us. I centered myself over him and oh—the sweet divinity of having him in me. I leaned forward and pulled up, sinking down to his groan.
Trevor joined us, his hands on my breasts, my ribs, gliding down to my ass, the lube a slippery tingle of anticipation. Even with Joe in me there was more I needed, and soon I’d be complete. We would be conjoined, a hot, frenzied mess of emotion we could only feel through this bodily connection.
Trevor’s light touch pressed against my puckered skin, the area healed from my ill-advised actions with the waxing kit, and as the lube warmed and eased the way, I felt the familiar blend of the forbidden and the ecstatic, the rush of too much followed by the sense of orgiastic glow, my body stretching for him as my soul unlocked in concert.
We were one.
Hands, torsos, bellies, legs and tongues all mingled in random patterns designed solely to enhance pleasure and to say, Yes. I’m home.
The rhythm came naturally. No one led, and yet everyone did, our bodies driven by what felt good, by what we could give to each other. The guys moved while I stayed in place, completely entranced by the thousands of ways I was being loved, inside and out, from the simple friction of flesh on flesh.
My hair hung down and framed Joe’s face, his eyes hidden in the shadows, his hips curling up and thrusting slowly, my pussy taking it all in, my inner walls clenching in patterns that alternated with the gasps that caught in my throat. A wave of flushed heat shimmered through me, a startling warning of my pending climax.
This was our path toward love. Ours and ours alone. Joe cried out my name and shifted under me, his movement heightening everything, my lust connecting with my clit and cresting me, my body rigid and writhing, urgent and halting, as Trevor cried out behind me, his body tense then loose, his throat hoarse with release. A small star in a solar system far away burst behind my eyelids, making us stardust, part of everything known and unknown, our love a frequency that could travel for infinity, carried only on a wave unseen.
Shockwaves poured through me, each slightly less intense than the one before. I slumped against Joe, his body covered in sweat. I kissed his shoulder as Trevor’s hot skin covered my back, his own bonelessness like a final orgasm that capped everything off with a perfect finale.
We were back.
“I love you,” I murmured into Joe’s neck. “Both of you. So much.”
“I love you, too,” Joe whispered into my ear.
“And I love you,” Trevor added.
We were really back.
CHAPTER 12
Darla
Wedding time. We were at the church in the back rooms, working on our makeup, when a light tap on the door made me jolt. We were all in here
—me, Mama, Josie, Marlene, and Calvin’s daughter, Jenna. Mama had asked us to just wear our nicest dresses and shoes, and we were a motley group, all right, ’cause Jenna’s best dress was a Victorian sci-fi contraption that made her look like a character from that Firefly television show crossed with Dr. Who.
And Mama loved it.
“Ain’t Jenna got the best sense of flair, Darla?” Mama said. A flame of jealousy flared up in me. Turns out I got my own flare, too.
I never had to compete for Mama’s attention before. Josie don’t count.
Jenna gave Mama a sweet look but dipped her head. Shy, that one. She looked like a young, feminine version of Calvin and when she wasn’t hiding her face, seemed fine enough.
Stepsister. I was about to acquire a new daddy and a new sister in one simple ceremony.
“Did someone tap on the door?” Josie asked, her lips pulled down over her cheeks as she applied mascara. Eye makeup on Josie was about as common as discretion in Marlene, so this was quite a look.
“Hello?” said two familiar baritone voices.
“You can’t be here!” Mama shrieked, her voice filled with outrage. “It’s bad luck to see the bride on her wedding day!”
Trevor poked his head in. “That’s only true for the groom, Cathy.”
Mama frowned, cracking the pancake makeup Marlene had plastered on her like spackle. “That’s right.” Then her mouth turned to a devious grin and she looked at me. “Guess we’ll have to worry about that when you get married.”
“Who’m I getting married to?” I shot back.
“Them!” Mama replied as Joe and Trevor tentatively stepped in the room.
“Both?” I said with a laugh.
Mama shrugged. “Why not?”
“Darla’s boss is marrying two men,” Josie added helpfully.
I realized Jenna was in the room, her eyes as big as two moons, eyebrows high.
“You know polyamorists?”
“Poly what?” Mama asked.
“Polyamorists. People in relationships with more than one person.”
I gave her a look. “We ain’t poly.”
Joe cleared his throat. I turned and did a double take.
They were both dressed in suits. Nice ones. And ties and shiny black shoes.
“Actually,” Joe said, “we technically are.”
“That is so cool,” Jenna said giving me a look like she was admiring me in a new light. “There are a ton of polys in cosplay.”
“Was that Latin?” I heard Mama whisper to Josie. “’Cause I didn’t understand a single word out of Jenna’s mouth.”
“What in the hell are you doing here dressed like that?” I hissed at my guys. They looked like young Boston lawyers.
Which was a problem at a second-chance wedding in Peters, Ohio.
Joe looked offended. “What’s wrong? Are we underdressed?” He elbowed Trevor. “I told you we should have rented tuxes at that place in the mall.”
“Tuxes? Who the hell wears a tux? Even the groom ain’t wearin’ a tux!” I whispered.
“See what I mean?” Trevor said to Joe, a smirk marring that beautiful face. “Her accent gets really bad when she’s back home.”
“My accent don’t—” Aw, fuck. He was right.
“And her grammar goes to shit,” Joe muttered.
“You know what else happens when I come home?” I challenged them. They just looked at me, all hot and alluring, like models in a Macy’s ad. “I make you fit into my hometown. You can’t just waltz in here and apply Boston standards.”
“Boston standards would be black tie,” Joe said pointedly.
“And Peters standards means no man will wear a tie except for the groom and his men, so take those off. And the jackets. And where did you get these clothes?” I demanded.
“Some place called Boardman. Near Youngstown.” He made a contemplative face. “Reminded me of any mall area. Like Framingham or Marlborough back home.”
“Funny how that works,” I said. “Turns out maybe we’re all more alike than you think.”
He took my hand and used his thumb to caress the back of my hand. “I understand that now.”
I glowed inside and out at that, and if it hadn’t been Mama’s wedding day, I’d have basked in it. But I was a pragmatic Mama’s girl and time was of the essence.
“Take off your jackets and put them in the car. Take off the ties. Then, you’re perfect.” I gave them each a kiss on the cheek.
“You look beautiful,” Trevor said, bending down to give me a kiss. My hair was half straightened and I had mascara on one eye, a set of Spanx sitting out like a dead pancake on the table where we had makeup set.
Two years ago I’d have made fun of myself when he said that. A year ago I’d have made fun of him. But this time, I just said, “Thank you” and gave him a kiss back. Joe came in for his own kiss and they left.
I turned around.
To face a wall of questioning, half made-up eyes all on me.
“You’re poly,” said Jenna, excited and congratulatory, like she hit the stepsister lottery.
“You’re lucky,” said Mama.
“You’re running late,” said Josie.
“What’s double penetration like?” Marlene asked.
And then all the eyes turned to her.
* * *
The wedding was almost an afterthought in my trip. Mama and Calvin got married in a simple church and had the reception in the recreation hall below. The ceremony took twenty minutes. No one gave anyone away. Me, Calvin, Jenna and Mama all stood up front, with Marlene, Josie, and Mike in a semicircle behind us, and about twenty people—Trevor and Joe included—sat in the pews and watched.
When it was over, everyone clapped as they kissed.
Calvin had made an honest woman out of my mama.
When I was a little girl I dreamed of weddings. Made my Barbies marry Ken. My little stuffed animals had long strolls down the aisle wearing toilet paper fashioned into bridal gowns and trains. I wasn’t any different from Jane or Jenna or Mama or Josie, who all had their own inner lives and sense of what it means to love.
Alex was in the first pew, smiling at Josie like she was the beginning and the end of his world.
He was dressed appropriately.
As Mama kissed everyone and Calvin shook hands, I saw Trevor and Joe hanging back, uncertain.
But there.
They had come back into my world. They had bent and adapted, crossing over into my life to come and find me. Not to take me away.
To join me.
We could never get married like Mama and Calvin. Marriage law is binary. I knew that from my boss, Laura, and her arrangement with the two men she loved most in life. You take what you can get out of life and make the best of it.
I would never have a wedding like this. No strolls down the aisle. No marriage certificate. No swearing at the courthouse that you’re not blood cousins (and boy, you’d be amazed how many couples get tripped up by that little rule in Peters... and, even, in Boston).
And I would grieve for that loss someday, but not too hard.
Trevor’s hand was warm against the small of my back, sudden and right. “You okay?” he asked. “You seem pensive.”
“My mama just got married. I get to be pensive.”
He kissed my temple. “Of course.” His face was more mature than it was two years ago. He had a deepening to him, with strong cheekbones and a jaw set with confidence. My arm slipped around his waist. He smelled like cologne, soap, and new clothing.
Joe searched the room with evaluative eyes. I knew what he was thinking. I grabbed his hand and pulled him in.
“Nope. We’re not gonna do that. Not here. Mama wants me to be me. Me,” I said, stretching on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
He wrapped a careful arm around my waist. Both guys had me now. Both.
Mike came on over, dressed in khakis and a white button down shirt. Someone had pinned a rose boutonnière to his shirt, and he had a new hair
cut.
“You shaved, Mike! Where’s the beard?” Joe asked, offering a polite handshake.
Mike took the three of us in with wary eyes, but smiled. “Somewhere in the bottom of a trash can back home. Along with half my head. Man, I drank too much last night. Anyone got a pill?”
I reached into my purse and handed him some headache medicine. “You’re gonna drink at the reception,” I cautioned. “You’re not supposed to mix these with alcohol.”
“Darla, honey, I got a list with two hundred and twelve things you’re not s’posed to mix with alcohol,” he said before dry swallowing the pills. “These will just have to get in line.”
We all headed slowly downstairs. I knew how this worked. Hardly anyone would come to the wedding but the reception would be packed to the gills. Which would you rather attend? A ceremony with a minister going on about God, or a reception with booze and chicken dances and a garter toss?
Right.
“Can we help, Cathy?” Trevor asked as Joe rolled up his sleeves. It was a warmer-than-usual spring day and already the reception hall was getting stuffy. Then again, maybe that was just me. Time had been kind to Trevor Connor, and my eyes were opened to how he and Joe appeared to my friends and family here in my hometown.
You know those commercials where all the women in the office ogle the naked-chested window washers, or the construction workers in a funny role reversal?
That was pretty much happening here, though Joe and Trevor were fully clothed. Every woman in the room was sneaking covert glances at my boyfriends, and I was pretty sure Jane’s brother, who had shown up to help set up the bar, was giving them the hot side-eye, too.
I was okay with that. Two years of managing the band gave me a thick skin when it came to the attentions people gave to Trevor and Joe.
“Sure, honey,” Mama said, limping over. “Can you get all the gummy bear table favors out of the cars and set them out on the tables?”
Both guys walked off to do their job as Mama turned to me and smiled, wiping a damp piece of hair off her forehead. “This is going as planned. I’m gonna need a vacation from my own wedding so I can recover from all this stress.”