-1Matt's words are still bouncing around in my head as I stride toward Chris' apartment. My heart is hammering away inside my chest, my hands are shaking, and I can feel little beads of moisture making their way down my back. I'm not entirely sure if it's emotional strain, the beginning of heroin withdrawal, or even the vague idea of having both my lovers at the same time.
Surely he was just kidding, right? Matt's never been the kind of person to partake in… well, whatever he was suggesting. Except that he wasn't kidding. I could see it in his eyes and that dark smile. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, really. Matt has never been one to care much about consequences, as long as he was getting what he wanted at the time.
I decide that I should just pretend he never said it. Erase that one tantalizing line from my memory and get on with my life. And to mention it to Chris? Hell, no! This entire situation is already complicated enough, so much drama and emotional baggage like matches and flint. Throwing sex into the mix would be like dousing the erupting fire in gasoline.
But, what if…
I shake my head to try and clear away the thoughts, and make my way up to Chris' door. It's unlocked, which is surprising. But also much easier, since I doubt that fitting a key into a lock with my hands shaking as they are would probably not be an easy task.
I step in, and shut the door behind myself. Chris is nowhere to be seen, but there is music floating out from the bedroom. Strummed guitar chords that are cut off, redesigned, and given life again. Following the music, I make my way down the hallway and come to the open door of Chris' bedroom.
He's so wrapped up in what he's doing, he doesn't notice me. That's perfectly fine, because I have to take a minute to digest the scene in front of me.
Chris is sitting Indian style on his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of ratty acid wash blue jeans. His guitar is balanced in his lap and there is an open notebook and pen in front of him. He plucks a few chords, pauses to put his pick in his mouth and scrawl something in his book, and then starts the process over again. His brow is creased in complete concentration on what he's doing. On re-write number three, he still hasn't noticed me standing in the doorway.
This would usually be an incredibly cute scene to happen upon, except for the way he looks. His eyeliner is smeared in black streaks under his eyes, making the dark circles there even more pronounced. His hair is loose against his back, uncombed. It's obvious that he hasn't slept.
There's a makeshift kit on the bedside table. A small mirror, a piece of clear plastic straw, and a razorblade lying next to an already cut rail, just sitting there waiting for his next break from writing. There's a box of Kleenex, a few tissues lying discarded on the floor, stained red from his nosebleeds.
Another few chords, and he huffs in frustration at himself, apparently not satisfied with what he's creating. He tosses the pen aside in disgust, and reaches for his mirror. With his eyes no longer glued to his music, he finally sees me standing there.
We stare at each other for a long time. He sniffs once, dislodging a crust of blood and cocaine that had been caked around his nostril. His hand comes up to wipe it away errantly.
"Hey," he says, voice rough from lack of sleep and the drip of coke down the back of his throat.
"Hey," I reply. I really can't think of anything else to say. Finally, I move into the room and sit down on the edge of the bed.
"Didn't think you'd be back." He pauses for a second, and then gestures in the vague direction of the table. "Sorry."
"Yeah, well, I told you I'd be back. And don't apologize to me. If you're stupid enough to do the same thing you've been tryin' to get me to quit, you're beyond apologies. Just do whatever the hell you wanna do, Chris."
"It isn't the same. I've never touched horse, and you know it."
"A fix is a fix. Whatever addiction you choose, is still a fuckin' addiction. It's still gonna kill you, eventually. How can you say it ain't the same?"
"Because I can control it, Jeff! How many times have you had to pick me up from a faceplant in the gutter, huh?" He takes my silence as defeat and follows up with, "yeah. That's what I thought."
I guess he's right, in a way. He's always been slightly more discreet about his recreational activities. I've never had to come and rescue him from a pissed off connection in a dark alley, or take him to the hospital because he mainlined just a little too deep and couldn't stop the bleeding. But, still. That's not the point.
I reach over and pluck the mirror up from the bedside table, staring at the reflection of my eyes amidst the white powder. A genuine portrait of my being enveloped in a mind altering substance. Just the way it always has been.
"Quite a gagger you've got there, sweetheart. You been blowin' this hard all night?"
He sighs and leans back against his headboard, closing bloodshot eyes. "No. Just a couple lines. Gotta get my mind off bad shit and onto something more productive, y'know?"
"Yeah." It's a pointless discussion. I can't undo what he's already done, and I know from personal experience that one drug addict preaching to another just doesn't work. Leaning over to set the mirror back onto the table, I figure I may as well just get back to the subject at hand.
"I talked to Matt."
"Yeah? 'Talked' to him, huh?" He opens his eyes and smiles at me, leaning forward again to brush his fingers across the side of my throat. The sting of his touch surprises me, before I recall the fact that Matt likes to use his teeth. "Well, good for you."
A flush creeps up through my face and ears, and I'm embarrassed before I can even realize why. This is what Chris wanted, isn't it? It's what he's been pushing for ever since he and I first started out. But somehow I can't shake the feeling that I've betrayed him.
"I don't know what you want me to do, Chris."
"I want you to do exactly what you're doing. You're back where you belong, now. What the fuck are you doin' here, anyway?"
"Just because Matt and I are workin' shit out don't mean I'm gonna leave you out in the cold."
"Oh, yeah? So, what does that mean exactly? That every time you guys get in a scrap, one of you is gonna come over here for a good ol' fashioned revenge fuck to get back at the other, and then leave again the next morning?"
"Jesus, Chris, no! Is that all you think of me? You think I never really cared about you this whole time?"
"Look, Jeff. It's all right. All three of us have what we want, now. You wanted Matt, and you've got him. He wanted you; you're his. And all I ever wanted was for you two to be happy. So go and be happy, would ya? But Jesus, go do it somewhere other than here! A clean break, y'know? Maybe after a bit, when things calm down, everything'll be fine again. The three of us can go down to the Pocket and get trashed or something. But for a while.. gimme a little room to heal, all right?"
I sit through his monologue, looking down at my trembling hands and chipped nail polish. I thought this was going to be an easy fix. Just come over here, let Chris know he was still important. Still wanted. I still have to try.
"But, Chris -"
"Please, Jeff." The tone in his voice as he cuts me off makes me look up at him. His eyes are glassy with moisture, and I make myself believe that it's just 'cause he's high. He dashes my hopes quickly enough.
"You're killin' me, here," he whispers. "Just go back to Matt."
"Come with me."
He pauses, blinking in utter confusion, and it almost makes me smile. "What?!"
"I said, come with me."
"What the hell for? You guys don't need me anymore, and you know damned well that Matt isn't gonna want me there, interfering."
"Yes, he does. I'm not really sure if you'd call what he has in mind 'interfering,' but he does want you there. He told me to bring you back with me."
"You're a fuckin' liar!" He kicks at me playfully, chuckling. Reaching up to wipe at his eyes, he starts shaking his head in disbelief. "Jesus. Me and you and Matt. That's the craziest thing I've ever heard."
"Yeah, ain't it, though? But I'm not lyin', Chris. He really did ask for you."
He's still laughing through his words, and I'm not sure if he really thinks I'm lying, or he's just trying to make a joke out of the entire situation so that he won't really have to deal with it. "You're such a tease. You know I'm blitzed, and you know what coke does to me. You're torturing my poor fragile heart with false propositions of unbelievably intense sexual encounters! You bastard, I oughta -"
I know there's only one way to shut him up. Moving onto my knees on the bed, I entwine my fingers through his hair and bring his lips crashing into my own. He makes a muffled sound of surprise, and I can feel him tense as if he's going to pull away. But in the end, it only takes a moment for him to relent and give himself over to my kiss.
His guitar makes a clanging sound of protest as it hits the carpet, and we're both scrabbling on top of the comforter to get closer to each other. I move my hands down both sides of his throat, and can feel his pulse racing against my fingers, amplified by the drugs and his escalating arousal.
He was right, by the way. I know probably better than anyone what cocaine does to him. And I know that right now, even from such minimal contact, he's just about hard enough to be able to hammer his dick through a two-by-four.
When I pull back, he whimpers pathetically between shallow breaths, lifting his eyes to look at me. His pupils are so huge, I can barely even see the ring of blue that skirts them.
"I want you. Matt wants you. You're coming home with me," I tell him, and he nods instantly.
He doesn't bother to put a shirt on, and I physically have to make him sit down again to put on his boots. The second the laces are tied, he's headed for the door again with me right behind him. I almost run right into his back as he stops in his tracks.
When he turns to cast a lamented glance back into the bedroom, I know exactly what he's looking at and exactly what he's thinking. I know because it's the precisely the same thing I would be thinking. He must know I can read his mind, because he doesn't offer any elaboration to his words.
"It's already cut," he says. I shrug and sweep my arm out in front of me as a gesture of invitation. Be my guest, Christopher. Be the same raving hypocrite you always have been. I'd expect nothing less of you.
He grins like a cat, plants a hard kiss on my lips as he goes by, and hurries back into the bedroom to snort his last line.
The walk back to my apartment is interesting. Chris' prominent hard-on is straining so noticeably against his jeans, I'm surprised he can walk at all. He seems completely oblivious of the looks we get as we hurry along, still trying to keep a decent pace while he touches every inch of my skin he can reach. His excitement has driven most of the nervousness from my mind, but there is still that nagging voice asking just what the hell is going to happen when we get back to my place.
The stairs inside the building are a challenge. Chris has apparently decided that waiting until we actually get into the apartment to strip me would be a huge waste of time. We're both stumbling up the stairs as he's yanking at my shirt, finally succeeding in ripping it down the middle and letting it fall in tatters beneath our feet. I can only laugh, amused but not at all surprised by his enthusiasm. After a short make-out break against the stairwell wall, we're finally on the right floor.
Seeing the door to the apartment seems to knock a little bit of sense into him. He's standing behind me, like he's using me for some sort of human shield. His hands are roving all over my bare chest, but his voice in my ear holds a little uncertainty.
"Matt really said that?"
"Yeah, he did. It's okay, Chris. C'mon." I open the door and lead him inside, hoping that it really was okay.
He's still behind me, and he uses his foot to close the door after us because his hands are too busy trying to unfasten my belt. A second after the door closes, Matt's form emerges from the hallway, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers.
Everything stops. Matt is just standing there, watching us with a somewhat shocked expression. I'm frozen in something akin to terror, just waiting for him to exclaim that he'd just been kidding about the whole thing. Chris' hands seem to be melded against my waistline. He's no longer moving, and I can't feel him breathing against my back anymore.
"I didn't think he'd really come," Matt says, and he smiles.
Chris and I heave a relieved sigh in perfect unison. Still, no one moves for a minute. We're all just standing, breathing, watching, existing in the surrounding oxygen that is thick and awkward.
It's Chris that decides he's had enough. His mind, hazy with drugs, has completely abandoned all notions of insecurity and questioning. His hand squeezes me through the fabric of my jeans while at the same time, his teeth sink into the back of my neck. I yelp, but just as quickly as his touch came, it's gone, and he's striding across the floor to get to my brother.
I watch him advance on Matt like a predator going in for the kill. When someone comes at you like that, like they're either going to punch you in the face or kiss you stupid, it's just human nature to retreat. To back up, at least. Not Matt. He just flashes an arrogant smirk and squares his shoulders, dark eyes gleaming.
His back makes heavy contact with the wall when Chris reaches him and shoves at his shoulders. Their lips meld heatedly, both moaning at the initial contact. Hands are tearing at clothes, and I can do nothing except stand there and watch, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. I've never seen them together before, not like this, and I hadn't been sure what my reaction would be. It's never been easy for me to think of Matt with someone else. But this… this is a wicked preview that makes me ache for the full version.
They're both naked in what seems like a heartbeat, and Matt is leading Chris toward the bedroom. Both pairs of eyes turn to me expectantly. Matt's expression is asking me if I'm still okay with this, and Chris' is asking me if I'd please hurry the fuck up.
I move to follow, unbuckling my belt and unfastening my jeans on the way. I almost trip and break my damned neck trying to kick my shoes off, but I manage to survive and get into the bedroom, as naked as both my lovers.
The bed has suddenly become a confusing labyrinth of limbs. There are fumbling, awkward touches as the three of us try to decide what's going where, when, and how. We get our first position initiated eventually. Matt's leaning back against the headboard and I'm laying on my stomach in between his sprawled legs, sucking him off and trying to contain my nervous excitement enough not to slip up and graze too hard with my teeth. I can hear both their moans muffled in each others mouths as they exchange hot, sloppy kisses. I glance upward to find Matt's hand fisting agonizingly slow over Chris' erection as they make out.
As much as I'm enjoying this, I know I can't keep it up too long or I'll finish Matt off before the real fun begins. After a few more minutes, I pull away and rest my head against his thigh, looking up at them.
Matt breaks their kiss, finds my gaze, and smiles lazily at me. His hand is moving a little faster along Chris' cock, making Chris shudder and squirm. He isn't paying much attention to anything except the feel of Matt's strong grip.
"You ever been high on coke, Matt?"
He glances to Chris for a split second and scoffs knowingly before nodding. "Yeah, 'course I have."
"So, you know what it's like. It's a little different with him, though. He's horny as hell, obviously, but desensitized. He's gagging for it, but it's gonna take quite a bit to get him off. But when we do… Jesus, Matt, he comes so hard."
"I think we'll manage," Matt says, releasing Chris and standing from the bed. Chris is left there, panting, flushed, and looking deliriously happy.
Matt goes about digging through the bedside as Chris and I find each other. I'm still nervous, but his touch is familiar enough to get me to relax, and soon enough his hands and mouth have me almost as hard as he is.
I can feel Matt's heated gaze burning holes in our skin as he watches us, and Chris grins at him as pushes me over onto my hands and knees. The feeling of his skin against mine is wonderful, as it always has been, and knowing that Matt is watching us sends a thrill right through me and straight to my groin. Chris crawls behind me, his hand finding my cock and his mouth sucking along my the back of my neck and down my shoulder blades, hard enough to leave marks.
Matt just stands back and watches the scene for a few minutes, and honestly, I'm too far gone in Chris to even notice when Matt hands him the lube. It becomes apparent, though, when Chris' slicked finger finds my opening, sliding in easily. I gasp involuntarily and my eyes fly open, instinctively searching out Matt's face. He kneels on the floor beside the bed so that he can be eye-level with me, leaning in to kiss me sweetly and run his hands through my hair, reassuring me once more that everything is fine.
More than willing to lose myself in the touch of both my lovers, I keep kissing Matt as Chris prepares me, our tongues slicking against one another. After what seems an eternity, Chris' fingers are gone and I break from Matt, knowing I'll have to breathe through what's coming next.
Matt seems content, for the moment, to sit there and watch as Chris positions himself at my entrance, starting the slow slide into me. It doesn't take long for him to be fully sheathed, leaving us both panting and slick with sweat. He takes a shuddering breath and goes still for a moment, adjusting to the sensation and letting me do the same.
By the time that Chris is setting a slow rhythm against me, Matt's slowly jerking himself off from his position on the floor, his eyes hazy with lust as he watches us. I fight my hardest to keep my eyes open so that I can watch him, but the feel of Chris pumping into me is too much and I have to let them slide closed so that I can completely concentrate on the pleasure.
Chris soon decides that slow and steady just really isn't doing it for him. Growling low in his throat, he leans over my body, wrapping one arm tight around my waist and gripping the headboard with the other hand. What follows is a series of fast, pounding thrusts that has me leaning all my weight down onto my elbows so that my hands will be free to grab a pillow to scream into. The last thing I need right now is my neighbors storming over and pounding down my front door because of the noise.
Suddenly, Chris' hips hitch and then stop, leaving him buried deep inside me. His weight against me increases as his chest becomes plastered against my back, and he's practically keening in my ear.
"Oh, fuck, Matt," he moans against my skin, and I can't help but to try and crane my neck around so that I can see what's going on behind me. My entire body is throbbing with heat and I wish to god that Chris would move again, but when I glance behind me, I can see why he isn't.
One of Matt's hands in braced on the back of Chris' neck, keeping him pressed against my body. The other is guiding his cock to Chris' waiting hole. I don't know if Matt has prepared him or not, but judging by the way Chris is shaking and tensing against my back, I'm guessing not.
After a few experimental thrusts, Matt grabs Chris by his hair and pulls him upward again, wrapping an arm across his chest. Chris is long gone. His fingers are scrabbling against my sweaty skin, looking for impossible purchase. His mouth is hanging wide open to emit agonized whimpers of pleasure, his eyes rolling behind the closed lids. Matt sets a hard, fast pace right away. I quickly forget about watching them and let my forehead hit the bed again as every one of Matt's thrusts sends Chris' hips crashing forward into me.
"Ohh. Oh, god, I've never… felt… oh, fuck.."
More mostly inarticulate babble leaves Chris' lips, punctuated by gasps and whimpers. It takes a few minutes, but once he becomes accustomed to the new sensation, he's ready for more. I feel his fingers wind into my hair, and he snaps my head back, setting his own fast pace against me that moves in fluid harmony with Matt. Add my backward grinding against Chris, and the three of us turn into one well-oiled machine, moving in perfect synch and pure lust.
With Chris still gripping my hair, I no longer have a pillow to moan into. But that's all right, because I no longer give a flying fuck about the neighbors. All that exists to me now is the wet smack of skin against skin, the ripe smell of sex in my nostrils, and three desperate, keening voices mingling in the air.
I know that Chris no longer has the wits about him to worry about getting me off, and I haven't touched myself since this whole thing started, but I still feel like I'll explode at any second. I can only imagine what Chris is feeling right now, every feeling heightened by the high he's on.
The second my thoughts turn to Chris, his hand in my hair turns painful and he makes that low sound in his throat. His hips are working frantically against me, and I know that he's going to come any second.
"Yeah. That's it. Come on, Chris. I've got you. Let go. Come for us, baby."
Matt's voice, and just the sound of it is almost enough to push me over the edge, even though he wasn't even talking to me. As if just having been waiting for permission, Chris grinds backward into Matt and then brutally slams into me, filling me so completely that I can feel hot liquid seeping and drizzling down my inner thighs.
But really, it's his screams that bring me over. The sound of his ecstasy as he comes while fucking both of us. My hands ache from gripping the sheets so tightly and I'm coming before I even realize it, surprised for only a split second about the fact that my cock wasn't even being touched. After that one second, I'm completely beyond coherent thought, groaning as I spill over the mattress and shooting so hard that I even manage to hit my own stomach.
Before I even have the chance to come down completely, I feel Chris slowly withdrawing from my body. It seems like an awful lot of effort, but somehow I manage to look over my shoulder at them. Chris' body has gone completely limp and Matt is the only thing holding him up. I watch as Matt very gently pulls Chris away from me and then disentangles himself, letting Chris lie down on the bed beside me.
Lowering Chris to the bed is the last gentle thing Matt has in him. Immediately after Chris is settled, Matt reaches for me, flipping me over onto my back and leaning over me, kissing me hard. He has one hand braced on the mattress beside my head, holding himself up. The other is furiously working his cock as his moans vibrate against my lips.
Reaching up to push my fingers into his hair, I'm still reeling in the aftermath of my orgasm. Matt is so worked up that it doesn't take long for him to bring himself over. I'm still high enough on my endorphin rush that I don't feel any pain when Matt bites down on my lower lip, bringing blood as he groans and coats my chest and stomach.
As soon as his tremors subside, he releases my lip with an audible sucking sound and then collapses on top of me, making us both into one big sticky mess. He's panting hard and I can feel his heartbeat against me, matching the frantic pace of my own.
Idly stroking my hands through Matt's hair, I look over at Chris. His eyes are shut, but I can tell he's awake by his changing facial expressions. He goes back and forth from looking like he's in severe concentration about something, and looking like he's still in the throes of a mind-blowing orgasm. He's breathing and shaking so hard that it scares me for a minute, thinking he's having a heart attack or something. But his eyes flutter open and he gives us a lazy grin, whispering in a husky voice that's barely audible.
"I'm gonna crash."
He's asking if it's okay to sleep here, I realize. I can't answer because I don't know Matt's boundaries, and I don't want to piss him off. But Matt reaches over, runs his hand down Chris' back, and smiles.
"Go ahead. We'll be here when you wake up. With plenty of Excedrin."
Chris chuckles and nods, and then almost immediately drifts to sleep.
Matt rolls off and to the other side of me, putting me between Chris and himself. I nestle myself between the two of them, feeling totally and completely content for the first time in what seems like forever. Matt stretches comfortably, working tight muscles, and then rests his head on my shoulder.
"Ya see? You were all worried about what to do about Chris. This is all he needed."
"It's a quick fix, Matt, but it ain't gonna last. Not unless you both are gonna move in here and share me. What's gonna happen next?"
He nuzzles closer into me, speaking in between feather-light kisses to my neck.
"Quit worryin' so much. I got no idea what's gonna happen next, and it don't make any difference. We're together, and that's all that matters."