Gemini (6 page)

48

Gemini

by Chris Owen

We talk about his day and spend twenty minutes or so poking through art books left over from when I was taking classes, and he looks around the rest of the place while I finish getting supper ready. Doesn't take long—the kitchen is open to the living room, there's one bedroom, a bathroom, and a closet. That's it.

Kindly, he doesn't make up nice things to say. "Your tub is blue," he says as we sit down to dinner. "This frightens me."

We're eating in the living room, sprawled on the couch.

There's nothing wrong with the table, it's just us—we don't use the table at their place, either.

"Yeah. Well, aqua. At least it matches the sink." I wink at him and we spend a weird few minutes trying to figure out the designers of the 70's. Finally we just conclude that they were all on drugs, which also neatly explains polyester pants and the whole orange and brown color combination. It's a miracle my stove is white instead of olive.

We talk about cooking, debating gas ranges over electric—

it's a fast conversation since neither of us has used gas—and then we do the dishes. I'd leave them, but God knows when I'll be back long enough to get them washed before gross stuff grows on them. It should scare the hell out of me, the amount of time I'm spending at their place, but it doesn't. Not really.

"Want to watch a movie?" I ask, steering him not so subtly back to the couch. I even have one rented, just in case he says yes.

"Sure," he says, but he's not looking toward my ancient TV, and he's not interested in any movie. He gives me a 49

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shove and I land on the couch, laughing. When he follows me down I flip him over and tickle him until he squirms, both of us laughing and trading kisses.

The tickling dies off and I settle for just kissing him, rubbing my hands all over his body. He's a little tiny bit slimmer than Jamie, not as defined. I'm way smaller than both of them, and I like that they're more substantial than me. I'm thinking about that as I make my way up his neck with my mouth, my fingers feeling his nipple rings through his shirt.

He groans and arches his neck.

"Like that?" I ask, not really needing him to answer. I think I ask him that every time I get to concentrate on his rings. He always answers the same too; it's becoming our thing. Jamie says it's cute, but it makes him roll his eyes at us.

"Yeah, harder," Paul says, right on cue.

I push his shirt up and there's a couple moments of uncoordinated struggle as he half sits up to pull it off and I dive for his chest. Soon enough, though, we're as comfortable as we can get, sprawled on the couch half-dressed. I go to town on his right nipple, licking and sucking and pulling on the ring with my teeth. He's moaning, holding my head in place and undoing my hair tie.

He likes to feel my hair over him when we make out. I hate that it gets in my mouth, but it really sends him wild, so I let it go. A worked up Paul is a happy Gent, and I don't look my gift horses in the mouth.

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Gemini

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I pull at his other ring with my fingers and he bucks under me, rubbing his cock on me. I'm lying on top of him, between his legs, and fuck, he's hard. I am too, but feeling him drill into my belly like that is something else. He's gasping my name and his fingers are tangled in my hair, and he's about to pop.

So I have to decide if I want to make him come in his pants or if I want to play with the gift I got him. Easy choice.

He glares at me as I sit up, and I grin down at him, strip off my own shirt. I move my legs, straddle him and push my dick against his, just two layers of denim between us. Well, maybe a pair of shorts too, I don't know—all I know is I'm commando, and it wouldn't surprise me if he is, too.

We are so easy. The whole bunch of us.

"You look like you have something planned," he says, rocking against me.

"Do I?" I ask, trying to look sweet and innocent.

He rolls his eyes at me, the brat. "Yeah. But if it involves less clothes than this, I'm in."

I grin and bend down to kiss him; he tastes like marinara sauce and red wine. When I let him go we're both a little breathless again and he's looking kind of dazed. When I try to stand up, he pouts.

"Shush, baby. Got something for you." I climb off and go to my bag, already packed by the door.

"Rubbers?" he says hopefully. "Flavoured lube?"

"Better," I promise, taking the small package to him. "But yeah, got rubbers and lube too, not flavoured though."

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"Good, they never taste like what they're supposed to be."

He sits up and reaches for the package, smiling up at me. I hold it back and swat his hand away. "Hey!" he protests, laughing. "Thought it was for me?"

"It is," I assure him. "But first you gotta take off your pants."

He stares at me for a moment and then laughs. "That line usually work for you?" he asks. But he stands up and undoes his jeans, toeing off his shoes at the same time.

"Yup," I grin at him. Then I strip off too, both of us grinning like fools. Both of us naked and hard under our jeans.

"We're so easy," he says ruefully.

"Lie down," I tell him, one hand holding the present, the other digging in my jeans for a rubber.

He does as he's told, pulling idly at his dick. "Going to fuck me?" he asks, spreading his legs.

"Nope." I grab the lube from behind the couch and toss it to him. "You're going to do me."

His cock jumps and mine gives a sympathetic twitch.

"Whatever you say," Paul agrees happily.

In short order I'm straddling him again, his fingers in my ass as I roll the rubber over his prick and stroke him a bit.

"Gent." He shudders when he says my name. "Go easy or this is gonna end."

I nod, wiggle down on his fingers a bit. "S'okay, baby. I'm ready."

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He looks at me for a long moment and jabs his fingers in deep, twisting a bit. Makes me cry out, and then he grins.

"Yeah, okay. Climb on."

I laugh and gasp at the same time, lift my hips up so I can get in the right place. I sink onto him, not as smooth as I'd like, but it's been a while since I've bottomed from the top, so to speak. He's good to me though, doesn't move until I'm all the way down on him, and then he just shimmies his hips a little, enough to make us both groan.

"Okay, now wait a sec," I say, holding up the gift I got him.

He nods, hands on my hips, eyes on the prize.

"Paul. Stop looking at my cock."

"No."

I sigh and tug on his nipples.

"Jesus!" He bucks up and we both freeze, panting.

"Don't do that!" I tell him.

"Then don't do that!" he says back.

When we can both breathe without fear of shooting, I wave the parcel in front of his face. "Now, this isn't the best there is, baby, but it's a start. Hope it drives you nuts."

He pries his hands off my hips and takes the present from me, looking me in the eye. "Sure it will. It's from you, yeah?"

"I drive you nuts?"

"Only in the best possible way, of course."

"Of course. Open it."

He rips the paper off and looks at the plastic bag, turning it a little. He makes an appreciative noise and shimmies again.

"This what I think it is?"

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"Uh huh."

"Put it on me." That's possibly the first time I've heard Paul give an order. It's certainly the first time I've heard that tone of voice, and my hands need no help from my brain before they're reaching out and dumping the silver chain onto his stomach.

It's a light chain, nothing fancy. It's smoother than mine, has a bit more style, but it's nothing like what I want to see on him. It's got clasps at both ends so it can come off easily, and it only takes about three seconds before I have it on his left nipple. I pull it gently and his eyes roll.

"Gent."

I chuckle and attach it to the right as well, then start to play. I have every intention of making him crazy, of torturing him until he fucks me hard, and I get off to a good start. His hands fly back to my hips and his eyes close tight, curses flowing from his mouth as he gasps and moans.

There is, however, one little flaw in my plan, and I don't see it until his eyes fly open and I see the devil in him. I barely have time to squeak before he lets go of my hips and nimble fingers tug at my own chain, dangling so invitingly in front of him.

From then on it's kind of a blur. There's swearing from both of us, a series of sounds that mean "Oh God, yes!" and my yelling for him to fuck me. We're grinding and thrusting and I've got his chain in one hand and my cock in the other and he's begging for me to stop or do it harder and for me to come. I don't think I can wait for him.

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He's huge in my ass, pounding up as I slam down and every twitch of my nipple chain is sending jolts to my cock and ass and I can just feel it everywhere. He's arching off the couch, and I'm tugging at his chain, and I know he's feeling it too.

"Jesus, Gent," he whispers. "Just come for me. Come on me, wanna see you shoot, want it to hit my face—"

I lose it. Just fucking lose it, my dick spasming and come flying out of me, scorching trails on his chest and neck, and there's a line of it across his mouth. He licks his lips and I can feel his cock throb in my ass, feel him come in me.

He's beautiful in silver chains.

* * * *

On the way out of the building I remember I haven't checked my mail in about a week, so I grab it from the mailbox as the cab pulls up and stuff it in my bag. There's not a lot, just my cable bill and a bunch of junk from the bank, a couple of magazines. No pink envelopes, which is nice—

means my heat stays on for a while longer.

We get to the apartment and find Jamie watching a ballgame on TV, cursing the uselessness of the other team. I don't even know what sport's on. Neither does he when Paul stands in front of him and takes off his shirt.

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Jamie's eyes go wide and then he grins at me. "Nice."

I grin back. "Thanks. Baby wore me out. He really likes it."

Jamie laughs and grabs Paul, hauls him down onto his lap.

"Good to know. You shouldn't break Gent, though. It's not nice."

Paul snorts. "Was so nice."

Jamie tugs at the chain and Paul goes still. I smile and reach for my bag, toss Jamie lube and a rubber.

"Not up for playing?" Jamie asks, one eyebrow up.

"I'm up," I tell him. "Well, almost. Just like watching." And I do. Really really. Sometimes it's just nice to watch and stroke off.

So that's what we do, right there in the living room. I watch Jamie fuck Paul from behind, watch that chain catch the light, and I pull on my dick, remember what it felt like earlier. My ass is sore, but every time Jamie makes Paul's breath catch I can feel my hole spasm. It's like an orgasm that doesn't stop, and soon enough I'm tugging at my own nipples, legs spread as I jerk off over them. I come on Jamie's back, watch Paul shoot through Jamie's fingers. Jamie fucking howls as he comes.

Not bad for a day off, really.

We clean up the mess and head to bed, Paul scooping up my bag as he passes it, then swears as the mail slides out, all over the place.

"No trouble," I tell him, and I bend down to gather it up.

Two magazines, a flyer for the supermarket, the bank statements, a letter from the company that owns my building, 56

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and the cable bill. I toss it all back in the bag except for the realty thing, which I open and read as I walk.

"Ah fuck." My building is going condo and I have a month to let them know if I'll be buying my apartment or moving out. Lovely.

"What's up?" Jamie asks, coming in from the bathroom.

He's damp from a fast shower, but at least he doesn't reek of sex anymore. Hard to sleep next to a man that smells of spunk.

"Gotta move," I tell him, and I give him the letter as I strip off for bed. Paul's already in, way over on his side. I slide in next to him and give him another kiss.

Jamie gets in, but he's got his thinking face on. He kisses me and leans over to kiss Paul good night, then we all settle in and the boys turn off the lights. There's a heavy silence, which is really hard to fall asleep in.

"What?" I finally say into the dark.

Jamie's light snaps on. "Move in here."

I blink. "What?"

Paul's light comes on. "That would work," he says.

"What?" I say again. "It's a little soon, isn't it?"

Jamie and Paul both shrug. Jamie says, "You're here almost every night."

Paul says, "Why pay rent on a place you're never at?"

I say, "But—"

And then Jamie looks at me, his face serious. "It's up to you, Gent. But you can live here if you want. If it'll make you feel better, you can even pay rent, say a hundred dollars less 57

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than your old place 'cause you'll have more transportation costs. A third of utilities."

Every relationship eventually reaches a stage where you have to make a choice. Is this long term? Is it something you're prepared to take a real risk for? Is this the time to finally just give yourself over and make the decision that this is something you want and are willing to work for? Could this maybe turn into love?

And I've just reached that point. Suddenly, without knowing it, I've found myself at the point where I have to either walk away from them or give them everything.

It doesn't take me that long to know what I want. I look at Jamie and then I look at Paul and I just know. "Okay."