by Juniper Bell
Even so, I got odd looks from the kid waiting outside the door when I finally opened it.
Chapter Two
First touch
Harkness House Courtyard—A few days later
Jack nearly stumbled at the sight of Clare, Rob and Luc lounging under the chestnut tree in the far corner. Luc caught sight of him and waved.
Damn. He’d come to Harkness to enjoy a meal free from constant checking of the entrance for a dark waterfall of hair or a flash of pale skin. He could pretend he hadn’t seen Luc wave. He could wave back and make his way into the dining hall. But he did neither of those things. He strolled across the grass, picking his way around sunbathing students and strewn textbooks. He dodged a flying Hacky Sack. It was a crystal-blue day in early October. Before long, dreary skies and exhaust-stained snow would take over. But for now, students wanted to enjoy the glorious Indian summer.
Clare lay with her head on Luc’s thigh, her knees bent up. She wore loose cotton pants of a nondescript tan color. On anyone else, they’d look shapeless. On her, they were oddly provocative, the way they draped around her hips. She had a book propped on her chest. Her hair tumbled like a black flag over Luc’s jeans. He was in the midst of braiding one long hank of it with surprisingly nimble fingers.
Rob sat with his back against the tree, his shoulder touching Luc’s.
Clare shaded her eyes with one hand and looked up as Jack drew close.
“Tired of the Adams House cuisine?” Jack joked, though his mouth had gone dry.
“Are you kidding? That pu-pu platter never gets old,” said Luc.
Clare giggled. She looked more relaxed than he’d ever seen her. The sunlight filtered through the chestnut leaves and left splotches of shadow on the skin of her chest. An ant crawled on the neck of her red t-shirt. It was so close to her skin. He experienced a jolt of envy.
“And you?” Luc continued. He seemed to be the designated talker of the trio. “Hot date with a Harkness babe?”
“Luc,” scolded Rob in a murmur, looking up from the notebook in which he was scrawling.
Luc immediately inclined his head. “Inappropriate. Apologies, Professor Cartwright.”
“No need for that. I’m not a professor yet,” said Jack. “And no offense taken.”
A moment of silence fell. After all his speculation about these three, it felt odd to be near them like this. As if characters from a movie had stepped off the screen and decided to converse with him.
“I think I should tell him about our vote,” said Luc, a devil gleam lighting up his bright eyes. Jack was never entirely sure of their color—green, blue, some combination? It was hard to tell because he moved so fast and laughed so often. His eyes were usually lost in a tangle of laugh lines.
“Don’t you dare,” said Clare. “I will be forced to punish you.”
“Exactly.” He winked. “Not-yet-Professor Cartwright, I think you should know that you’ve been voted most fuckable resident advisor at Adams House.”
The inappropriate thrill nearly made Jack stagger. He kept his cool only by sheer force of will.
Rob turned his head sharply and scowled at Luc. “Not fair. We agreed.”
Luc shrugged. “If I’d been named most fuckable, I’d be screaming it from the rooftops. You’re not offended, are you, Mr. Cartwight?”
“Well.” Jack fought for the right tone. “I am surprised Barnes didn’t run off with that one.”
Clare, Rob and Luc all laughed. Suddenly Jack pictured them as three kids hanging out on a pier on a bayou, trading gumballs or such.
“Granted, there wasn’t a lot of competition. And so far, you’d beat the Harkness candidates hands down.”
“Enough, Luc,” murmured Rob.
“I think he likes it,” said Clare, with a look of mischief that transformed her face. Her gray eyes glowed with secret amusement. The wandering ant had paused just below her ear. Jack couldn’t drag his eyes away.
“I told you he was cool,” said Luc.
“No, I told you he was cool,” corrected Clare. “He always has to take credit for everything,” she told Jack. “I believe I was the first to discover your high cool quotient.”
“Well,” Jack cleared his throat, “I’m uh, flattered. By everything. And now I should go in and find myself some lunch.”
“Nice to see you, Cartwright,” said Luc.
“You too, guys. And gal,” he added awkwardly.
She smiled faintly and began to turn back to her book. Her cheek neared the neck of her t-shirt where the ant lurked—what if she was allergic? What if she detested creepy-crawly things?
“Hang on. Don’t move.”
She froze. He strode forward and knelt next to her. Carefully he put out a hand and flicked the ant off her shirt. She turned her head in surprise. He found his hand pinned between the soft skin of her cheek and her warm sun-kissed shoulder. Waves of electricity shimmered through him. He went rock-hard under his jeans.
“Ant,” he choked. “You had an ant on your collar.”
Her eyes flew to meet his. Astonishment lurked in their secret gray depths. Astonishment that he’d noticed such a tiny thing? That he still hadn’t drawn his hand away? That—if only—the same flaming lust was cruising through her body as through his?
And then he realized that he couldn’t move his hand. She was keeping it there, cuddled in the hot crease of her neck.
She wanted his touch.
Hot, fierce joy.
Then the moment ended. She sat up, so suddenly his hand fell away from her. She seemed panicked and brushed herself off with a slight tremble.
“She doesn’t like bugs,” said Rob, surprising Jack. “Thank you.”
“No problem. I don’t mind ants, but I don’t like them crawling on me.”
Clare still hadn’t said anything.
“You okay, cher?” murmured Luc.
She nodded tightly. Jack looked from one to the other, mystified. It was just an ant, for God’s sake. But the two boys seemed to have forgotten he was there in their concern for Clare. Her face had gone tight and she shook as she kept brushing herself off, over and over again.
“It’s okay. Only an ant, honey, only an ant.” Luc held her shoulders tightly. Rob stroked her arm. Jack suddenly felt incredibly out of place. He rose to his feet. They didn’t notice as he took a step back, then another. He turned to go, then, undecided, turned back again.
Rob whispered in Clare’s ear. Luc kissed her neck. Then Rob pressed his lips against her cheekbone.
She took a deep, trembling breath, then nodded.
What the hell was going on? He had to get out of there.
“Jack,” she called after him. He stopped but didn’t turn around. He wasn’t sure he could take any more.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He couldn’t help it. He turned back for one more look. The two guys formed a protective wall behind her. She gazed at him from the shelter of their arms, looking shaken but brave.
“Bugs and I don’t agree very well. We have a history. Maybe I’ll tell you sometime.” She blew him a kiss.
Inane Scrawlings—October 10
See, here’s the thing. L and R and I have tried everything together. We even have names for different arrangements. For instance, “the double-or-nothing”. That’s when I take one of them into my mouth while the other fucks me in my pussy or ass, whichever they prefer. We all like that one. I can suck pretty hard when I’m coming. Sometimes they hold a vibrator to my clit at the same time. Last time they did that, I nearly blacked out. Feeling L’s cum in my throat while R fucked me in the ass made me insane.
Then there’s “Ring Around,” in which we lie in a circle and suck each other off, each with our faces buried between someone else’s legs. That one’s okay, but sometimes my attention wanders. Sometimes I want something more… I don’t know, crazier. I suppose that sounds strange, given the crazy-to-some relationship I’ve been in since the age of sixteen. But that’s all about saf
ety, it’s about the three of us clinging together and cocooning ourselves from the outside world. Taking care of each other in every possible way.
Nothing wrong with that, but sometimes… I don’t want to be cocooned. I want to be challenged. Pushed.
Isn’t that why students come to a place like Earlton, so they can be challenged? It’s happening on an intellectual level. Merriman’s Epic seminar blew my mind. Now I want my other “mind” blown. My sexual mind.
J, I think I need you. I need you…hard. I need you to be hard.
I see you acting like all the other “thinker” types here. I’m sure you’re a thinker too, or you wouldn’t be here. But I see something else in the way you move, in the way your head lowers, the way your eyes zero in on me. I see something fierce and hard. Lead wolf. Warrior king. Lord and master. Top dog.
Am I the only one who sees it? Everyone else talks to J as if he’s any other grad student. Am I the only one who sees we have a wild animal among us? A self-trained wild animal, cagey and impossible to trap. One who’s learned to live in the world of people. But who could revert at any moment.
When that happens, I want to be there.
First sight naked
Adams House—Rob and Luc’s suite
Earlier in the day, Rob had dropped in to ask Jack if he knew of any part-time jobs to be had. Jack had told him about an opening in the Classics department—the dean needed help computerizing some files. After a satisfying few hours wrestling with his thesis, Jack checked his watch and realized if he didn’t get to the dining hall soon it would be closed. As he got up, his glance fell across Rob’s backpack propped against his desk. It had to be Rob’s because he recognized the odd patch sewn on it. A flying pelican—must be a Louisiana thing.
The kid must have left it behind. Odd that he hasn’t come back for it, Jack thought.
He picked it up, slung it over his shoulder and left his room. He’d drop it off on the way down to dinner.
He tapped on Luc and Rob’s door. A strange noise came from inside. It must be someone saying, “Come in,” he figured. Sometimes it was hard to hear through the thick walls. He pushed open the door.
The impact of naked flesh hit him first. Young, smooth, naked flesh. In abundance. He couldn’t even sort it out at first, until he saw Clare’s hair, that long, dark waterfall he couldn’t chase out of his dreams. She sprawled with abandon across the red futon, which was rolled out on the floor. Her legs lolled apart, the silky dark hair at her sex drawing his fascinated gaze. Her pussy looked like plush red satin peeking from behind the light covering of hair. It felt so wrong, so forbidden to see her like this, but he couldn’t stop staring. And then he saw a mouth descend to her clit, saw her legs fall farther apart, saw her draw the man’s head tight to her sex.
The head belonged to Rob. Stolid, powerfully built Rob. He too was naked, and his outrageously defined musculature glistened with sweat. He crouched over Clare as if he were a feeding lion.
Rob’s nut-brown head settled more deeply between Clare’s legs. She let out a little sound. Calm, composed Clare, whimpering? It was almost unbelievable, and yet the sound came again, along with the wet lash of tongue on swollen tissue. Rob spread her legs wider apart with his broad hands.
Jack’s cock went so hard, he nearly doubled over. His hand itched to grab his shaft, to give himself some relief. Maybe hump the door. But he was afraid to move, afraid they’d see him standing there and stop what they were doing.
Luc, all golden, naked skin, curled next to Clare, one hand reaching up to fondle her breasts, the other somewhere between Rob’s legs. His finger and thumb pinched the deep plum-colored bud of her nipple. The scent of sex and ramen noodle soup hovered over the scene.
All the students ate ramen noodles when they were pulling all-nighters. But not all students did this. Or did they?
The three moved together like a long-practiced team. They fit around each other so perfectly, so familiarly, as if they’d been doing this kind of thing forever. Jack knew he was intruding—clearly—but he couldn’t move. He was paralyzed, hypnotized.
None of them seemed to be aware of his presence. Clare’s eyes were closed, her head thrown back, her off-kilter lips parted. Lately, he’d been wanting to paint her, even though he had no artistic ability. But her pale skin, her mouth, slightly too wide for her face, and her eyes, those mysterious gray eyes, added up to something so impossibly fascinating, he’d wanted to pay tribute somehow.
Now she had two men paying tribute with tongues and hands and skin. And shockingly, more than anything, Jack wished he was one of them. All the primitive urges he’d suppressed came roaring back, double, quadruple, more.
The other resident advisors at Adams House had decided that Rob was “the friend” while Luc was “the lover”. But from where Jack was standing—in the doorway—he could see no difference between the two.
Had he ever thought Clare impassive? Not now. An expression of abandoned bliss stole over her face, which had always reminded him of a Modigliani painting, slightly elongated, a bit exaggerated and utterly fascinating. Her body was long and slender, arms and legs flung carelessly this way and that. One slim hand held on to Rob’s head as he ate her out. The other gripped the futon cover, clenching open and shut. A deep convulsion racked her body. Her hips bowed upward, seeking Rob’s mouth. Luc pulled long and hard on her nipples, his hand darting from one to the other.
She sobbed, her head thrashing from one side to the other.
Then Rob shifted, and now Jack could see between his legs. Luc was jerking him off, his hand sliding up and down his thick shaft and occasionally cupping his balls. Rob’s ass muscles clenched, his body going tense.
Leave, leave, Jack commanded himself. This was wrong. This was spying. This was a terrible invasion of privacy. This is the most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed.
He wanted to see Clare come. He wanted to see if Rob would come all over her legs. And what about Luc? Was someone going to suck him off? Would lovely, remote Clare take him down her throat? Or would someone—my God—would someone open up their ass for him?
His own hips jerked all on their own. He must have hit the edge of the door, because suddenly Clare’s eyes flew open and he found himself staring into their hazy gray depths. Horror swept through him, along with a million apologies. I didn’t see anything, so sorry, I knocked, let’s never mention this again, I’m leaving this second, I promise I didn’t see a thing…
But her gaze left his and drifted languorously down his body to settle on his crotch. His cock responded to the weight of her scrutiny with a powerful surge. Oh God, this can’t be happening. He put his hand to his cock to stop it. Yes, to stop it. He didn’t intend to grab his own dick while he orgasmed helplessly in his pants. He didn’t intend to stare like a voyeur while Rob came into Luc’s hand, while Clare moaned under the assault of Rob’s mouth, her gaze fastened on Jack’s self-pleasuring.
This is wrong. I could get fired.
As he was about to orgasm, Jack spun around, shut the door and stumbled back to his own room. He locked the door, finished jerking himself off, ripped his clothes off and buried them in the hamper.
Inane Scrawlings—October 15
Disaster. Or maybe not. J walked in on us. I have a feeling R set it up. He never forgets his backpack. And neither of them ever forgets to lock the door. It’s too risky with all the games we play. So imagine my surprise when there he is, right in the doorway while R is busy licking my pussy. R had me right on the edge too. At first I thought I was imagining it, the way I had in the laundry room. But the look of shock on his face told me otherwise.
Then came a look of bloodlust. Rip-your-clothes-off, hammer-you-blind madness.
I don’t even think he realized it, but his hand went right to his crotch. I saw the massive erection developing there. Hard to miss. Hard. Oh yes, hard. I couldn’t help it. When I’m that close to coming, I have no more control. The way he touched himself as if driven to it, as if nothin
g could stop him, lit a fire in me that I’ve never felt. I heard whimpers and knew they had to be mine.
R jerked a little—he must have felt me shift. But I wouldn’t let him up. I clamped my hand to his head so he wouldn’t see J in the doorway. Not for R’s sake, but for J’s. One thing at a time. One revelation at a time.
When I came, it felt as if a kaleidoscope were bursting around me. L’s hands on my nipples kept pulling sensations out of me, spinning them into spangles of light. R stayed with me, even though I kept rocking around—couldn’t stop. I love my two guys with all my heart. But they didn’t give me that orgasm. J did, with his eyes.
Yes, that’s all it took. His presence in the room, his gaze on my naked body, his hand on his aroused cock.
Oh J, please…don’t shun us. Don’t reject us. You want us. I know you do.
Here’s what terrifies me most. What if J wants me but not the others? We have a pact. It keeps us safe. It keeps us sane. I won’t break it. But would I, if that was the only way J would take me?
I don’t want to think about it. All I can do is hope and pray he doesn’t put me in that position.
Position. Rhymes with transition. Volition. Perdition.
There’s something else that scares me even more. What if I have to tell L and R that I’m changing? That I’m starting to want something different?
Chapter Three
First confession
Earlton Faculty Club—One week later
“Good God, you look like hell, my boy.” Professor Merriman looked up from his plate of scrambled eggs and chives with an expression of slack-jawed horror. Jack Cartwright wasn’t too exhausted to notice his mentor’s overly dramatic reaction. Merriman adored a scene. Students loved him for it.
“Haven’t slept in a week. Can we sit in that corner over there?” He gestured to an isolated table, the only one at the exclusive Earlton Faculty Club where he might have a chance of telling his shocking story in private.