Gemini (4 page)

Jamie's eyes close and he's starting to thrust with his hips, fucking his twin's mouth and I swear Paul's made of stone,

'cause he's just letting Jamie suck and lick and he's not 29

Gemini

by Chris Owen

moving. Jamie has one hand on Paul's hip and the other starts playing with his balls and I'm just sitting there on the floor stroking off.

I lay down next to them, my head near Paul's now and I can see the spark in his eye. The one he got the night he made us both come before he fucked me into the mattress.

He's gonna take Jamie's head off.

I watch Paul and I can see when it starts to happen. He sucks a little harder, and on the upstroke he's a little looser, makes Jamie real wet. Fuck, Jamie's so hard, and Paul's working him, tongue everywhere. Then he runs a hand up the inside of Jamie's thigh and he's doing some weird pressure shit to his balls and the soft skin behind them and Jamie's hips are fucking snapping as he tries to get more. I glance back and Jamie's still sucking Paul off, but his rhythm is gone and he's pretty much just licking now.

Paul holds a hand out to me and traces my lips. So I suck his fingers in and let him play, try to match the rhythm he's got going with Jamie. Paul's eyes roll a little and I grin, then he pulls his fingers out of my mouth and fuck he just slides two right up Jamie's ass and Jamie loses it, crying out Paul's name and I can see Paul swallowing hard around Jamie's cock and I think Jamie's never gonna stop coming.

Then Paul's up and off and I'm laying there looking at Jamie who's sprawled on his back and he looks totally fucked.

Like he's not getting off the floor for hours.

Paul lands beside me again and kisses me hard, whispers,

"Hey. Missed you."

"Yeah?" I say, stroking his erection, and fuck he's hard.

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"Yeah. You still watching, or you want to play yet?"

I grin. "We got all night, baby. Give me a show."

He kisses me again and then he's leaning back, trying to get at a drawer in the coffee table. So I take advantage and lean over him, start to rub off on his abs.

"You want a show, you better stop," he says, and I can hear the grin in his voice. I back off and go to kiss Jamie, which I guess works well for Paul. 'Cause while I'm saying my proper hello's to Jamie his twin found the lube and the next thing I know Jamie's arching up and sucking on my tongue and moaning like he was when Paul had him down his throat.

I look back and down at Paul and drop a hand to my cock, pumping myself hard, 'cause shit, I have never seen anything like this. My twins, my beautiful, gorgeous, sexy twins are fucking for me and Paul's balls deep, Jamie's legs over his arms and he's just fucking slamming into him.

Jamie has to stop kissing me, he just can't hold it together and Paul's looking so determined and hot and oh God I need something, anything.

They're moving together now, hips rolling, and Paul's right over Jamie, kissing him, teasing his chest with the tip of his tongue, and Jamie starts to babble, saying stuff like, "Oh God yes, Paul, fuck me harder. So good, God, you're so hard."

Paul just grins and speeds up, pulling Jamie's legs higher and Jamie's eyes roll back in his head. "Oh shit, yes! Right there, Paul, please, yeah, please!"

I can't just sit through this, can't just jerk off anymore. I'm so hard I hurt and my balls are aching and I need to touch, need to be there with them. I reach out and trace Jamie's 31

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cock with one finger and he fucking jerks at my touch and groans, so I fist him and start jerking him off. Paul's eyes are wide and starting to lose focus, and it's glorious.

Then Paul sort of freezes for a second and Jamie's shooting over my hand and Paul's slamming into him again and then he throws back his head and comes.

And yeah, I give myself another tug and then I shoot all over both of them before we all land in a messy pile, kissing and touching and stroking and just coming down.

We order pizza later.

* * * *

He grins at me and looks at the key, wrapping his arms around my waist. "Came in handy, didn't it?" he asks. "Would have been pissed if I'd had to stop to answer the door."

Can't argue with that, can I? I kiss him quickly and hear the TV shut off. Paul's pretty insistent that he watch the late local news if we're not otherwise occupied, so he's the last of us to wander into the kitchen.

"Um, bed's just down the hall," he says, winking at us.

"Much more comfortable than the kitchen."

"This from the man who has a thing for the living room floor," I tease, letting Jamie go. "Go on, I need water."

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They kind of tumble down the hall, Paul calling Jamie

'insatiable' and Jamie protesting that we weren't actually doing anything, but not really denying the accusation that he can't get enough, either. By the time I get a glass from the cupboard and open the fridge I've heard two thumps as they shoved each other into walls, Paul's grunt as Jamie got him in a headlock, and Jamie's shriek of laughter as Paul wiggled out and started tickling him. It makes me smile—love it when they're silly and brothers.

I get my water and head down the hall, making sure the lights are off. It's weird, you know? I've been spending my time here, been hanging out and, well, honestly, having a hell of a good time and getting off more than I did in the last year, but it's only been a week. I can't remember ever being comfortable like this a week into seeing someone, certainly not doing the whole 'yeah, I'll make sure things are shut off for the night' thing.

I don't really feel like a guest, and it scares the crap out of me.

I walk into the bedroom and find the boys in bed already, laying side by side and grinning at me. There's a gap in the middle of the bed—my spot. I have a spot. It's hard to have a side of the bed when you sleep in the middle, but there it is.

My place. I think I'm staring.

"Gent?" Paul asks, looking at me with questions in his eyes. "Something wrong?"

I shake my head slowly. "Nope." And nothing really is, I'm just sort of winded. Suddenly I'm feeling kind of short of 33

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breath and utterly freaked the fuck out. What the hell am I doing, and how did I get here?

Jamie and Paul are sitting up in the bed now, looking at each other and then me. "Gent?"

Okay, time to get back to basics. I've got two guys in bed and what I need to know is why. Why me, why them, and why—why am I here? Aside from the sex. Aside from the twin factor. I mean, I was happy enough just thinking about Paul, wasn't I? Before I knew about Jamie. Okay, granted, that was all of three weeks of daydreams and one brief evening, but still. Paul was enough. I was happy, I think.

And me and Jamie, that's another thing. We get along great. He's funny and forward and just so overwhelming I'm beginning to wonder if I've just been swept away in the newness and hotness of everything. Jamie kind of swept in and captured me, and not that I'm complaining, I'm just wondering, all of a sudden, if I'm really supposed to be here.

They're looking uneasy and mildly freaked, edging closer to each other. I can see them holding hands under the covers, watching me carefully. I feel kind of bad for having my freakout where they can see it, and I'm not stupid—they probably can tell exactly what I'm thinking, or at least guess.

I turn around fast and start pulling off my clothes. I have no clue what to do, or what I'm going to say to calm things down—it's hard to be reassuring when you're in mid-panic.

The only thing I really know is that I don't want to walk out. I get the feeling that if I walk now I won't be allowed back in, so where does that leave me?

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"Paul?" I ask, tossing my jeans on the chair and getting ready to strip my shorts off.

"Yeah?" Oh, he sounds wary and suspicious and that's not nice. Guilt moves through me, guilt for making him wonder if he made a mistake asking me out in the first place.

Which is what I want to explore. Him asking me out was based on sex, yeah? Attraction. And we had a good time, we talked and started the dating rituals. But we got derailed really fast, and since then there's just been a hell of a lot of orgasms.

Not that orgasms are bad.

Time to get back to the start, I think. So I look at him, as I stand at the foot of the bed, naked and with my dick soft and I ask, "Would you like to go out for supper with me tomorrow night?"

His eyes widen and he smiles at me, nodding. "That'd be nice," he says. Then we both look at Jamie.

He seems to get it, thank Christ. He nods and lays back in the bed, moving a little so I can crawl in. "Good idea," he whispers to me as we curl up. "I'd like to take you out later in the week."

I smile and snuggle down. I'm dating. Neat.

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by Chris Owen

Chapter Five

Dating is kind of cool. Weird and freaky, considering the situation, but ... nice. Once or twice a week I have lunch with Jamie, and at least once a week I take Paul out. It's been going on for a while now, maybe a month or so, and we've all been talking our heads off.

Don't get me wrong, there's still plenty of time for the three of us. That's kind of the point, isn't it? We hang out together, sleep together—hell, I'm spending five out of seven nights at their place—but I guess I feel like if I'm going to be part of this, I have to be kind of solid with each of them. Hard to be balanced if you don't know what you're getting into.

Jamie and me, we talk about balance a lot. He says that it's not really about time spent with each person, but more about meeting needs. That kind of confused me until he pointed out that he likes playing ball, and Paul doesn't so much. "So, if it takes an hour and half to play one on one with me, and two hours to see a movie with Paul, does that mean you owe me a half hour? No."

Which makes sense, I guess.

Paul, on the other hand, is worried that all this getting to know them individually is already taking away from the whole. He's all, "I know you want to make sure you like us both, but you gotta know if we all work together, too." Which also makes sense. It's weird though, not knowing which is more important. If either is more important.

So we decide to do this for a while, but not think of it as a permanent thing. We'll spend time together in twos of course, 36

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just not in a regimented way. Not going to carve permanent dates into our schedules for all time.

Tonight I'm out with Paul. Well, I will be if Fred lets me take a long dinner break.

"You've been doing this a lot, Gent," he says, glaring at me. Fuck, he's big.

I nod, can't argue with that. "Yeah, but only on slow days and I don't go out for breaks or anything." I try to look cute and hopeful and not needed.

He snorts at me, his beard twitching, and I suspect he's just amused. "Paul's really getting to you," he teases.

I don't say anything—I mean, what would I say? 'Yeah, and his brother too'? I don't think so.

Finally, he sighs and looks over at Bobby, who just shakes his head and grins. "All right, get out of here. But be back by seven. And you can do the floors tonight."

I book. Not going to hang around when he could change his mind; not going to hang around when I can already see Paul walking up the street.

As soon as he's close enough to hear me over the noise of traffic I say hi and ask him how his day was. And just like that, we're in our own little world, holding hands as we walk to the diner on the corner. Not a real romantic place to eat, but it's close to work and we can sit in the back booth and talk.

Paul's had a good day despite the inherent internal politics of working at City Hall—and I get the feeling that office politics in a political building can get nasty. He tells me all the 37

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gossip as we wait for our food and I just let the names of unknown people float over me as I soak him in.

God, I've got it bad.

So, we eat and chat, and suddenly Paul asks me about my mom. "You talk about your dad sometimes, but never your mom. Did she pass away?"

Okay, I really should have seen that coming at some point, shouldn't I? I mean, people at least mention their parents, and with Paul and Jamie's folks gone, it's a natural question.

Doesn't mean I want to answer, though.

I shake my head and pick up another French fry. "Not as far as I know," I say. "But then, I wouldn't know. She left when I was six."

Paul's eyes get really big and he looks at his plate. "Oh.

Um. That sucks."

True enough. "Yeah. Dad says she couldn't stay anymore, that she had a lot bad things happen in her life and she couldn't deal with being a wife and mother and the basics of even taking care of herself. I guess she was depressed or something: Dad just said she was sick a lot. I remember her a little, but no matter how hard a I try I can't remember her ever smiling."

I remember her yelling. I remember her crying. I remember she always had a blue shirt on, and jeans.

Sometimes her hair was tied back, but mostly it was down and sometimes it was tangled.

I remember the sound of her crying and not knowing why, except it had to be about me. I couldn't seem to draw her enough pictures, be quiet enough, stay out of the way 38

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enough. I remember getting my cereal and spilling it and being terrified.

I remember Dad telling me she'd gone away for a few days, and I remember asking him why she didn't come back.

I blink and realise Paul's looking at me again, his head tilted to the side. "You okay?"