Three-Way Tie (Neighborly Affection) (2 page)

Homework never sounded so good as when Henry assigned it.

“Yikes.” Jay squeezed in close behind Alice, and the door swung shut with a jingle. The mingled scents of musty paper and oiled wood invaded his nose. “Everything in this place is super-breakable.”

Narrow aisles jammed with fragile knick-knackery sprawled before him like a forest of delicate saplings. Snap a branch, and he’d be in trouble.

“No kidding.” Alice whistled. “This place fell out of a Stephen King story.”

Henry disappeared around the corner. Maybe stop five would be the magical one and they’d walk out with something to show for their seven-hour excursion. Fingers crossed.

“We’ll be lucky to escape without selling our souls to the devil.” She tipped her head back, and her hair tickled his chin.

Assessing the space, probably. Odds were she had a mental map of the place fixed in her head after thirty seconds.

“Stick close, stud.” She nudged his hip with her standard bump.

The Alice equivalent of Henry tousling his hair, the drops of affection that daily filled his cock meter to full like a rain gauge.

“Don’t sign anything, or taste anything, or read the inscriptions out of any old books. Hands in your pockets.”

“I’d rather put ’
em in your pockets.” He took a deep whiff: Lemon and honey, the sharpness and sweetness a perfect balance of Alice. Yeah, he’d be okay. Best behavior.

She giggled.

“You have room in there for my fingers, don’t you?” He dared a swipe across her back. Her turtleneck and windbreaker concealed the harness, but he found the lower edge easily enough.

She sucked in a swift breath.

He knuckled the bumps where the rope looped to change directions, the vertical bar along her upper spine, and she shivered. Fuck yeah, she loved reminders of Henry’s ownership as much as he did, and he lived to make them both happy.

“Flirty puppy.” Her tender accusation urged him to sit up and beg for a treat. “My pockets aren’t mine to fill.”

Her pockets belonged to Henry, the MC picking the rhythms and spinning their beats. Permission rarely denied, but often withheld. Waiting was good for the soul, Henry said. It did some fucking fantastic things for their bodies, too.

“If you’re good, my boy.” Henry’s voice drifted over the aisle, the man hidden behind a stack of ugly junk. Expensive ugly junk. Nothing Henry would bring home. “Gentle hands deserve pleasant diversions. First, however, please come here and keep hold of a few things for me.”

Diversions. Hell, Henry’s voice diverted blood to his cock and sent a picture of things he’d like to hold shooting from his brain to his balls. The compression sleeve tugged at him like Henry’s tight grip holding back his orgasm. He flexed for the rush, the tightness in his balls and the slide of cotton boxers on his cockhead. Fabric sucked as a substitute for his lovers’ mouths, all wet and pulling and so fucking hot.

He dropped a kiss on Alice’s head. “Sorry, sweetheart, but duty calls.”

She snickered. “You wish it was a booty call.”

“Could be,” he whispered. Henry had ordered them to edge more than once in the car and checked the fit of his cock ring in the bathroom at their lunch stop. The urge for release itched at his balls. “This place looks deserted enough for it.”

Ducking under a dangling light fixture, he scooted around a shiny copper whatsit and some blue-and-white crocks perched at the edge of a deep shelf. Navigating his way to Henry took more concentration than following a mountain switchback no wider than a wheel rut. Yeesh. Who collected all this junk?

“Ah, just the pair of hands I need.” Henry rose from his crouch with a dancer’s grace. “Hold out your arms, please.”

He pouted at the lack of cock filling his palms. Dishes, though, those he received plenty of. Two platters and three bowls so far.

“We restocking the whole kitchen?” Curling his fingers around the bottom platter, he tilted the stack toward his chest. No sense taking chances. “You sure you want me carrying these, Henry?”

“We might, should the proper accoutrements present themselves.” Henry reached across the pile of finds and swept his hair from his forehead. “I’m certain I’ve chosen the perfect bearer for this task, Jay. Your presence makes every expedition a joyous occasion, and I well know the exact capacity of your grip.”

Damn straight he did. Size and strength and every trick and twist. With a still-new needy thrill flipping in his stomach, he leaned into Henry’s touch. Encouraging overt affection in public pinned eyes on his back like a target. His oldest sister’s disapproving eyes. Just his imagination.

Letting go of the need to hide himself laid so many gifts at his feet. The love and pride in Henry’s face at not being his shameful secret. The comfort of receiving Henry’s attention in public as Alice did. Wanting those things filled him with happiness. Embarrassment belonged to the old Jay, the one who believed “masculine” and “submissive” couldn’t co-exist. Henry and Alice had chipped away those self-loathing corners and built a fresh house for his soul.

Henry kissed his forehead and dragged his mouth toward his ear. “Watch yourself, my boy. Stare at me with such love and obedience for too long, and you’ll find yourself on your knees soon enough.”

He hadn’t sucked Henry’s cock in at least sixteen hours. His eager whine floated in the dusty air. “This place has gotta have a dozen empty corners. Alice would play lookout.”

“Alice would prefer to watch your head bobbing, not the store’s sightlines,” Henry murmured. “I cannot fault her for that.”

No, Henry would praise her for it, and they’d both love her for it. Fuck, he wanted her riding his cock while Henry filled his throat. To be a vehicle of pleasure for them and nothing more. Henry’s good boy. Alice’s stud puppy.

Stiff-tongued, Henry penetrated his mouth without a hint of warning. The pressure of lips against lips sprinted to his balls, loaded and tight from a day’s worth of teasing. Henry squeezed his hip. Jesus, he needed to thrust. Why did they have these dishes between them?
Don’t drop the dishes. Don’t drop the dishes.

“Your knees are trembling.” Henry breathed hushed words, low and commanding, between them. “Time to do something about that, my boy. Set these—”

“Welcome to Nicks and Scratches Antiques!”

Holy fuck. The woman’s bubbly voice jolted him fresh out of Imminent Orgasm Avenue and dropped him onto Limp Dick Lane. Henry steadied him with a whispered apology as he took a half-step back.

“Hi, folks. Sorry I didn’t catch you right off the bat. Gramps is out after deer today. You know how bow hunters are when the season’s on. But I’m fully briefed on the massive amounts of junk around here.” She waved toward the stacks of whosie-whatsits and thingamabobs. “Kidding. About the junk, I mean, not the knowledge. I’m Carrie. What can I help you find today?”

Carrie was a tiny thing, dark and delicate, and for sure the youngest proprietor they’d met. Old Scratch went out and left the devil’s granddaughter minding the store.
Wait’ll Alice saw the girl they’d be selling their souls to.

He edged closer to Henry. Not ’cause Henry would be tempted, but so this cock-blocking college kid understood he was taken. And so she’d knock off the creepy, soul-destroying clown smile.

Henry slipped into smooth, refined social patter like a perfect paddle stroke to water. Blah-blah-blahs about porcelain and stoneware and patterns and vintages. With platters and bowls trotted out in turn, Jay stood silent and obedient for the show.

“Hmm, yes, something more in that line. Have you a…”

Maybe Alice would find something nice wherever she’d wandered off to. The shelves and stacks surrounding them made spotting her golden head impossible.

“…estate sale…full set of…or some partial…”

His stomach growled. With lunch three hours in the rearview mirror, the diner across the road called his name. Bet they had pie. Gooey chocolate peanut butter pie. Apple for Alice. Pecan for Henry.

“No, not Wedgwood, thank you. One of my dinner guests has me quite trounced in that arena.”

Dash across the road, grab a table, order some pie.

“Just a moment.” Henry scooped the remaining platter and bowls from his arms. “Jay, leave these with me and go collect Alice, please. We may have exhausted the possibilities here.” He turned to the dark-haired sprite. “Something more individual. I’m seeking an unexpected delight for my table.”

Whoops. Caught being distracted. Forgiveness wrapped in a fresh task. He retraced his steps to the entrance. Nothing near the door, and the aisles wound around on each other too much for a clear view to the back. Scavenger hunt with Alice as his prize? Perfect.

He stalked her through the maze of antique curios and sideboards, old-timey mirrors, weird
geegaws, and—wait, there. Ripe wheat in a loose twist rising from beyond a wrought-iron something-or-other. Dodging an old globe, he swung around the corner, sucked in his gut, and stumbled back.

Damn, close one. The spokes of some whacked-out sundial art-
dealie stuck halfway into the aisle. Total safety hazard. Henry’d say to fix it so no one else got taken by surprise. Maybe if—

Jay sank to his knees, careful to avoid an art-
dealie poke in the eye, and tugged at the open flap of the cardboard box sitting on the floor in front of the banged-up wooden dresser. The top thing was a plate. Weird-looking. Unique.

He tipped his head back and called to the ceiling, “Hey!” Great way to get dust in his eyes in this place,
sheesh. “Come see this.”

He unloaded the box, the clink of dishes mixing with the tap-thud of Alice’s boots until the latter stopped and brown suede nudged his knee. Alice squatted beside him. “Knock something over with your massive cock today, stud?”

“Not yet, I haven’t.” He leaned toward her in teasing threat. “But I do like seeing you on the floor.”

“You like being
on the floor better.” Closing her eyes, she breathed deep and sighed. “I like that too. Can’t wait ’til we get home. He’s been driving me crazy today with those whispered promises.”

He pecked her cheek, grateful for her playfulness. Henry could be harder to crack, a fun challenge and exciting as a benevolent disciplinarian, but Alice was his partner in crime, always eager to laugh and tease. He needed them both in his life. “Me too. I swear I was
this
close before shop girl introduced herself.”

She shifted her hips, and he crooked his leg sideways into a seat. The bare concrete would snag her dress and stockings. Fine for his jeans, but not for Alice. Her weight settled on him, warmth and joy, and he pressed himself to her side as she plucked the plate from his hands.

“Huh. Good eye. How many are there?”

“
Dunno. At least this box, and I think the one next to it.” He raised his voice. “Henry, you should see these before you finish haggling.”

“You really should,” Alice echoed. “
Reuleaux triangles.”

“What-low?” The second box revealed bowls with tops curving like waves and the same lines around the edges. “Does that mean round?”

“Reuleaux. An engineer guy. And yeah, it means round-ish.” She set a plate on her legs and grabbed his hand. “Here, trace with me.” Guiding his hand, she ran their fingers around the edge. “Three equal arcs based on the points of an equilateral triangle. Every point on the curve is the same distance from the center.”

Center. Uh-huh. Their journey around the plate ended with the point nearest her crotch. She let her hand fall away, and he brushed her stomach with his knuckles. “Can we shorten the distance to the center?”

“Teaching Jay something new today?” Henry reached for the plate, and he handed it up for study. “How lovely to see you putting your homework into practice.”

He shared a glance with Alice and fingered the rope at her back through her clothes while they waited for Henry’s pronouncement. She loved the ropes. He might too, if he were brave enough to ask for them. Not barreling ahead because of his lovers’ desires, but taking thoughtful stock of his own. One of the first lessons Henry had taught him.

“An excellent find, my boy.” Henry squeezed his shoulder.

Approval seeped through his skin to his bones like water finding its level. He craved that tone, the drugged happiness nudging him toward subspace without sex.

“The shape formed of overlapping circles.” Henry balanced the plate on his fingertips. “The center of three lives. Even the colors suit.”

The plain white of the plates sported only the thinnest lines of color to break
it up. Gold, green and brown lines swept along the edges and rolled into and over and around each other at the corners like Celtic knots on the funky triangles. Unique enough for Henry’s taste.

And now that they had something to eat off of for Thanksgiving, maybe they’d get to go eat today’s dinner. Pie ran neck and neck with Alice’s pussy and Henry’s cock for top choice. He’d eat the last two first then fill up on pie energy then go back for seconds if Henry said the word.

Alice giggled and nuzzled his ear while Henry called for the devil’s granddaughter. Guess the plates were coming home with them.