by Laurie Loft
“¡Mierda! All over your nice shirt. Ay, let me get it in the washer before it stains.”
“Very funny.” Leo plucked at the wet spot on his shirt, holding it away from his skin.
“No? I feel responsible.” Sebby leaned down and put his lips to Leo’s shirt, sucking the fabric into his mouth.
Leo sighed and tugged till his shirt came free of Sebby’s mouth, and then he pulled Sebby close, laying his cheek against Sebby’s hair. “You had a bad fright.”
Sebby ignored this piece of irrelevance and nuzzled Leo’s neck. He nudged Leo’s collar with his nose. “I just want to know if your belly button is still as cute. You had the sweetest belly button.” His hand crept down to pull Leo’s shirt free of its tuck. He remembered how it felt to smoosh his face into Leo’s soft flesh and kiss his navel.
Leo did nothing to interfere with the shirt untucking. “What do you plan to do about this Collin situation?”
“There’s no situation!” Sebby protested. “It was just a phone call. Won’t you kiss me? Even if you don’t want to do anything else, just kiss me?”
Smoothing back Sebby’s hair, Leo kissed his forehead with a loud, condescending smack. “What’d Collin say?”
“Nooo, I don’t want to think about it.” Sebby squirmed, out of discomfort and out of the hope that this action would make Leo stop being so mean.
“You’re going to have to.”
Sebby could’ve shouted with exasperation. “Fiiine.” First gulping the remainder of his whiskey, he stared down into his glass, swirling it so the half-melted ice cubes slid around and around. “He said he was in a program, he said he wanted to see me, he said he had to make amends, and he said he knew I lied about Todd living with me, and he knew I was alone because Todd was with Barry and Lawrence. I told him I didn’t want to see him and to not call me back and to call his therapist.”
Twisting at the waist, Sebby turned, leaned, and stretched, reaching to set his glass on the end table, testing Leo’s arm to see if he would let him fall. Leo steadied him, and Sebby sat upright again. “Now, kiss me, you mean man, yes?” His hand resumed tugging at Leo’s shirt, and his fingers found bare flesh and walked their way to his navel. “Mm, there it is.”
Leo’s hand sought Sebby’s and pressed it, and he tilted his head and laid his mouth against Sebby’s, but Sebby’s elation was short-lived, as the kiss was so passionless as to be insulting. He opened his eyes to find Leo regarding him. His brow was furrowed, and Sebby traced the lines on Leo’s forehead. “What are you thinking, cariño?”
“I thought I heard something. A car in the driveway, maybe?”
Sebby levitated straight into the air and dove for the door, and he leaned out into the night. In the driveway, only Leo’s black Nissan was visible.
“You’re hearing things,” he said, returning and plopping into Leo’s lap. Sebby wrapped an arm around his neck. “Clean out your ears.” And he poked his tongue into Leo’s ear.
“Whoa!” Leo jerked away and swiped at his ear. “I could’ve sworn I heard a car.” He smiled, and it was such a kind smile that Sebby couldn’t be angry at having been tricked. “I’ve never seen you move that fast. Hoping it was Todd, or afraid it was Todd?”
“Both, I guess,” Sebby mumbled. He dropped his eyes. Slipping his hand down over Leo’s chest, he began maneuvering the first button from its buttonhole. “I know what you’re saying. Yeah, Todd wouldn’t like it if, you know, he found me kissing you.” He took a deep breath, his fingers making their way to the second button. “But he’s not here, and you are, and I need someone.”
At that, Leo’s eyes softened, and he smoothed Sebby’s hair with both hands. “I’m sorry he’s not here for you.” Leo took Sebby’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I just met him the one time, but he seemed like a decent young man. I hoped you’d outgrown your victim phase at last.”
Guilt nibbled at the edges of Sebby’s conscience with nasty, sharp teeth, because Todd was a decent young man, and victim phase, what the fuck was that, but Leo had taken hold of Sebby’s wrists and pulled his arms wide, leaning in to kiss Sebby hard, his lips warm and tasting of good Scotch, and I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care, Sebby told himself. He arched and moaned. Leo pushed him to his feet, ducked and, butting his shoulder into Sebby’s middle, hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him out of the room and up the stairs. From Sebby’s vantage point, the floor undulated as if it were alive, but Sebby was safe from it and from everything.
When they left the house, Barry slid into Todd’s truck and began fiddling with the radio. If I can just get through this night, Todd thought. Why was Sebby so insistent on this encounter? What gap in their relationship did he believe existed that could be filled in this manner? Sebby had often said that monogamy was unnatural; perhaps he feared Todd would stray, and this was his way of steering the straying. Well, if it made Sebby feel better, he would go along with it. He had resolved to cease his judgmental ways. Relationships were all about compromise.
Barry directed Todd through the turns required to get on the interstate. His fingers moved in a hypnotic motion up and down the length of Todd’s thigh. Todd chewed his tongue and searched his brain, which was rapidly being deprived of its fair share of blood, for a topic of conversation. “Sebby says you’re his oldest friends.” That’s appropriate. Talk about the boyfriend on whom you are ostensibly cheating.
“We knew each other in church, and pretty fast we knew we had something in common.” There was an awkward pause during which Todd waited for Lawrence to comment—Lawrence who was not there because he was driving his own vehicle—until Barry, glancing around, supplied the rest of the thought: “We were both going to hell.”
Todd laughed and touched his fingers to Barry’s. “The road to hell is paved with pretty boys, so I am told.”
“It doesn’t seem so bad now, but it was scary then. The Lake of Fire.”
Todd blinked. “The what? What are you, a Baptist?”
“Sebby didn’t tell you? The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
Todd gaped at Barry before remembering where he was and returning his eyes to the road. “Sebby’s a Mormon?”
“Ex-Mormon. Sometimes I wonder, though, if you’re ever really an ex.” There was another pause, and Todd could almost hear Lawrence’s voice chiming in before Barry continued. “Once a Mormon, always a Mormon.”
“But. He’s an atheist.”
“That’s what he says.”
“Perhaps,” Todd said dryly, “this explains his predilection for sharing his significant other with the two of you.”
Nodding, Barry giggled. Eschewing the safety belt, he scooted all the way across the bench seat of the old truck to cuddle next to Todd and cup his crotch. “Be our hubby, Todd, and we’ll be your wives. Your own little harem.” Again there was that odd, Lawrence-shaped pause before Barry finished. “Like King Solomon in the Bible.”
The reference made Todd uneasy. “Safety belt,” Todd insisted, and Barry, laughing, obeyed and slid back to his place. Todd shifted in a useless effort to ease the pressure at his groin. “So . . . what was it like growing up Mormon?”
“Lots of friends and family. Stuff to do. Lots of church. On my knees a lot.” Todd caught the coquettish look but was spared the discomfort of thinking up a clever rejoinder, as Barry continued. “Sometimes I miss it. Miss all my family.”
“You don’t see your family?”
“You can’t be a fag Saint.”
Todd’s hands clenched on the steering wheel. “Fuck.” Another gay estranged from his family. “I’m sorry.”
“You can swear. Ex-Mormon, remember?”
“That wasn’t what I meant. Ah . . . but Sebby sees his father.”
“Sebby’s dad’s a convert.” It was said with offhand contempt that Todd found both heartbreaking and amusing. “My family’s been Saints for generations, and none of their kids can be fags.” His heart twisting in sympathy, Todd reached f
or Barry’s hand and laced their fingers together, and Barry returned the squeeze of his hand.
“And Lawrence . . . he was Mormon too?”
A smile spread over Barry’s face. “Nooo. Lawrence moved to our school, and he was so . . . different. Happy. He was so . . . out, and he didn’t care who knew it. He’s a year older. We started hanging with him. I wanted to be like him. Then Sebby’s mom died.” Barry grimaced. “She had cancer. We all prayed, but it didn’t help; she died anyway. That’s when Sebby quit believing in God. He went kind of wild, and I went with him, and Lawrence knew all these places and all these people . . .” He turned to look out the window. “Who wants to go to Heaven, anyway? I don’t want to go anywhere that Lawrence won’t be.”
Greater love hath no man, than to give up all hope of Heaven for his friend. “Does Lawrence, then, refuse redemption?”
“Lawrence says when he gets to the pearly gates, he’ll kiss Saint Peter’s beard and tickle his ears until he lets him in.”
Todd could well imagine the look of astonishment upon the face of the stalwart saint, and he laughed.
“Right? I told him that there’s no such thing as the pearly gates, but he doesn’t listen.”
“But, surely, you don’t continue to suffer under the misapprehension that you will be condemned to hell for faggotry?”
“Sodomy,” Barry said. “The Bible’s pretty clear on it.”
“In point of fact, it’s not,” Todd said. “The tale of Sodom and Gomorrah, if read in a spirit of scholarly impartiality and placing the text in context with its time and culture, is viewed as a cautionary tale of disobedience to God as well as maltreatment of guests. The sacred duty of hospitality was one of the highest—” He cut himself off, for Barry’s brow was furrowed in confusion, and Todd reminded himself that Barry had had a conservative upbringing with traditional interpretations of Biblical texts, and one freeway lecture would not be adequate to enlighten him. “Besides. I could never respect a God who did not want you around.”
There was a soft aww and a whispered, “I can’t wait to tell Lawrence what you said!” Barry scooted across the seat again. He pressed a kiss to Todd’s jaw and laid his cheek on Todd’s shoulder. “Sebby got a good one this time.”
This time. Todd nuzzled Barry’s hair, inhaling the lingering tang of dance sweat before saying in a soft voice, “Safety belt.”
Safety-minded as he was, Todd always kept to the speed limit, so Lawrence, who had no such compunctions, had arrived at the apartment before them. Todd was barely inside the door before he was sandwiched between the two boys: Barry against his back and Lawrence against his front. The two of them kissed one another over Todd’s shoulder with little exclamatory moans, as if the excitement of being reunited after a twenty-minute separation was almost too much to bear. “Todd said he could never respect a God who didn’t want me around!” Barry announced.
Lawrence appeared puzzled, but his brow smoothed upon determining that it was a compliment, and he turned beaming eyes on Todd. “Ohhh! That was a sweet thing to say!”
“Say something sweet to Lawrence, now,” Barry commanded.
“Er,” Todd said, trying to catch his breath, and feeling put-upon or like a performing monkey. “First, might I trouble you for a cup of coffee?”
“Sure!” Stepping back, Lawrence took Todd by the hand and towed him into the living room. “Sebby ground me some coffee, but we don’t have his fancy-dancy gay coffee maker.”
“You’re a fancy-dancy gay coffee maker,” said Barry.
“Just what do the two of you do?” Todd wondered how they could ever manage to be apart for an entire work day.
“Tend bar,” Barry said.
“And pick up boys. Have a seat, Todd. Barry, help me.” The boys disappeared into the adjoining kitchen, and Todd could hear a whispered conference and the clink of dishware as the coffee brewed. He chose a corner of the sofa but, reconsidering, moved to the middle and sat on his hands, taking in the room around him. Inexpensive mismatched furniture hugged the walls.
On the scuffed coffee table stood a framed portrait of Barry and Lawrence. The photo struck Todd the moment his eyes fell upon it, arousing in him the tenderest feelings of affection; it was a studio portrait of the two boys in profile, their heads inclined toward one another, foreheads touching, eyes downcast, lips curved in identical gentle smiles. Todd picked it up; the photographer had captured a moment’s expression that said a thousand words on the subject of Barry and Lawrence.
“You like that picture?”
Todd lifted his head to see Lawrence offering a mug of fragrant coffee. “Very much.” He replaced the photo.
“I can get you one of those to keep!” Lawrence said, and bounced out of the room.
“One of what?”
“He means the picture.” Barry settled himself next to Todd.
“Oh. Ah . . .” Something seemed inappropriate about accepting a photo, but Todd wasn’t sure how to refuse. Returning, Lawrence landed on Todd’s other side, wallet-sized snapshot in hand.
“Thank you.” A glow of pleasure filled him to be holding the pretty thing. After all, what could be wrong with carrying a picture of one’s friends?
“Put it in your wallet,” Lawrence ordered. Todd set his coffee aside and shifted in order to fetch out his billfold, but Lawrence helpfully removed it for him, his hand sliding everywhere around the area before finding what it sought. Todd froze in place until the wallet was handed to him. Relaxing backward, he found Barry’s hand waiting, and Lawrence’s fingers wormed their way back to where his wallet had been. The ensuing exploration of his anatomy caused Todd to inhale and bite his lip. It was a replay of the party, weeks earlier, but there was no nearby press of people and no inhibiting presence of boyfriend.
As Todd tucked the photo away, he realized that the reason it had seemed wrong to accept the gift was that he had no picture of Sebastián in his wallet, and the portrait of Barry and Lawrence was joining the picture of Vivian that still resided there. He tossed the wallet onto the table, retrieved his mug, blew on his coffee, and took a long swallow. He needed the fortifying beverage, the essence of the beans that Sebby’s hands had purchased for him, had ground for him.
“Is it good?” Lawrence asked. “The coffee?” Two hands slid up Todd’s thighs, reaching inward and upward at the exact same moment, meeting in the middle, and the skillful choreography of the two young men drove all thoughts of former and current loves, if not completely from Todd’s mind, at least into its depths where they would be silent for a time. Todd whispered that it was very good, and he gave in to their ministrations, his muscles tensing and relaxing by turns.
Two mouths found his neck, bestowing wet kisses and lapping tongues and then sucking at the tender flesh, drawing involuntary cries from him. He writhed and found himself pinned, Lawrence’s knee on his leg, Barry’s arms restraining Todd’s arm. Lips, tongues, teeth caressed and tortured his neck, his throat, until in a spasm of combined fury and passion, Todd freed one arm and threw off Barry, who laughed and shoved Todd into Lawrence’s arms. Clothes were shed on the way to the bedroom. Lawrence, ivory of skin and slender of waist, walked backward, beckoning like a siren, and Barry followed behind Todd, his hands on Todd’s shoulders.
“You’re beautiful,” Todd whispered, eyes riveted. “Beautiful.”
Lawrence smiled and continued to beckon, each arm in turn reaching and curving back on itself, until Todd was stopped cold by the reflection of three naked young men in the floor-to-ceiling mirror that covered one bedroom wall.
“Do you like the mirror?” Barry nuzzled Todd’s ear.
“Some boys don’t.” Lawrence glanced over his shoulder at his reflection and preened.
“It has a curtain if you don’t.” Barry’s mirror-eyes met Todd’s real ones.
“No. No curtain.” Todd reached for Lawrence. His hands marveled at Lawrence’s satin-smooth chest, stroking his shoulders and passing down his back to the taut buttocks. Barry mo
ved closer and put his arms around Todd to touch Lawrence. The taller boys kissed each other over Todd’s shoulder; Todd tilted his head to see, and it was all becoming too, too much.
They turned their attentions to him, kissing him by turns, until Lawrence whispered, “Barry first,” and as one many-legged being, they approached the four-poster bed. The room was bright; of what use was a mirror in a dark room? Unlike the cheap furniture in the living room, the bedroom set was of the highest quality, and the mattress was spread with a down comforter and mounded with pillows, pillows that Lawrence swept to the floor before reclining there. The sight of Lawrence as he stretched out full length, pale against the midnight-blue comforter, made Todd groan with need. Lawrence passed a condom to Barry, who knelt and pressed kisses to Todd’s flank and stomach as he rolled it on for him. Todd wound his fingers in Barry’s thick hair, and Barry mouthed Todd’s cock before taking Todd’s two hands in his and pulling himself upright. He turned away, and there was the sound of something being poured, and he turned back, his hands dripping, taking first one of Todd’s hands and then the other, anointing Todd’s palms and the length of each finger in slippery stuff.
Barry kissed him and passed his slick hands over Todd’s chest and stomach, and then encircled Todd in his arms to slather his back, pressing their oiled bodies together, his cock hard against Todd’s belly. Turning away, he leaned over the bed, legs spread, draping his upper body over Lawrence and rubbing against him.
Todd spent all of half a second admiring Barry’s shapely ass and the lyrical bumps of his arched spine before sliding lubed fingers inside him. There was a whimper and shivering, and wordless noises of comfort from Lawrence, and Todd guided his cock inside and then held himself still, eyes closed, feeling the tension in Barry’s body and waiting for him to relax. Barry whimpered again and moved. Todd moved with him, massaging Barry’s oiled back. His hands encountered other hands, and opening his eyes, he saw that the boys’ arms were wrapped around one another. Barry’s face was hidden in Lawrence’s neck, and Lawrence crooned to him, “Shh, Barry, it’s all right, it’s all right, Barry. It’s good,” and so on in a continuous murmur.