How Alexander and I got to this moment really isn’t the point. It’s not. We’re here. He’s got his hand on my cock, squeezing it, only the fabric of my pants separating us.
His eyelids are heavy, but I know him. They always look like that. He could be watching the last innings of the final game of the World Series and his eyelids would still be heavy.
So the look on his face means nothing.
He could be turned on, or not.
He could be doing this for me.
None of this is the point.
The only point is… I need him and he needs me, and either we find a way to get through this or we all lose. He will lose her, I will lose the Club, she will walk away and life will probably implode.
Dramatic, I know. I get it. But it feels honest.
“Should I kiss you?” Alexander asks.
I have so many things to say back to him right now, it’s ridiculous. But none of them are the point either, so I just reach up, grab his hair, and pull him in until our lips meet.
He’s not gay.
He’s a little bit bi, which is why he’s here with me. And I’m a lot bi. Which is why I’m here with him.
But this kiss isn’t anything spectacular.
It’s rather stiff, actually. His lips don’t meld with mine. There’s no tongue. There’s no moaning or anything like that.
Fingers thread through my hair.
Her nails are long and today they’re painted a deep, shiny red. She presses them against my scalp—lightly—as her lips join ours.
Alexander changes immediately. First, a sigh. Then he moves closer to me. His hand gripping my cock tighter. His mouth softer, his breath faster, his eyes closed.
We kiss like that for a long time, it seems. No one is undressed. No one makes a move to undress.
We just kiss.
Which is a little bit nice. I guess. Kinda high-school. Kinda innocent.
But I’m not really out for a little bit nice.
I want to take her over to the couch, lay her back against the cushions, and fuck her like a man in a threesome.
And hell, her husband is welcome. Like I said, I’m a lot bi. So I welcome that part.
He, however… well, let’s just say he doesn’t feel the same way.
“You used to like this,” Augustine says, kissing Alexander’s neck now.
He doesn’t open his eyes and I’m grateful. Because he kinda fascinates me and those heavy-lidded eyes come with an intense gaze when they’re open.
It gives me an opportunity to look at him.
“I only ever did it for you,” Alexander replies. “It was always you who liked this.”
I could make him change his mind. I could. I’m that good. But I’ve given up on the dream of a bonded threesome.
Those feelings have long since passed. I live in a reality of my own making. Which might not be a hundred percent real these days, but it’s a lot more realistic than Alexander ever getting used to the idea of me.
I grab his hand and remove it from my cock.
This is enough to make him open his eyes.
“What are you doing?” Augustine asks.
“Leaving,” I say.
And I do.