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“Screw you.” He groans as he climbs back to his feet. He’s been out of sorts lately. Falling on his ass three times in a row is unusual for him these days.
“I’ve got your back,” I tell him, not entirely sure what has stressed him out, but the quick, grateful look he sends me tells me it was what he needed to hear. “Come on. Loser buys the drinks.”
Seeing Jet shovel food into his mouth eases the knot of worry in my chest. The thought that he was feeling so shitty he let Candy drive him here, that he didn’t want to tell me… it burns. I want to be there for him, always, like the family he doesn’t have anymore. The family he never really had, if what he’s told me of his parents is true.
Say all you want about my stupid, closed-minded parents, but they fed me and clothed me and held my hand to cross the street when I was little. Although Jet rarely speaks of his own parents, I doubt he had any of that.
But he has me.
I check his face for any sign of discomfort as I gather the dirty dishes and dump them into the sink to wash later. I watch him like a hawk for any dizziness as he gets up, collecting the silverware. He looks better than he did when he woke up, for sure. There’s color in his cheeks, and he’s steady on his feet.
He chuckles at something Candy says, and I watch the easy way with which she touches him and makes him laugh. She’s a sight for sore eyes—gold and cream and
rounded curves, a cheeky smile that lights up her brown eyes. And the glasses.
Can’t forget those nerdy glasses.
The way she slept in Jet’s arms. The way he was curled around her, more relaxed than I’ve seen him in ages. She made her choice, I guess. A good choice, too.
Hell, I can’t begrudge him this.
But I wish I’d stop imagining them together. Jet fucking her against the wall. Candy riding him on his bed. Myself thrusting inside her from behind while he fucks her mouth.
And… I’m hard again. Like every time my mind conjures up images of the three of us.
Pushing the wishful fantasies deep down, where they belong, I take the glasses from Candy, the silverware from Jet, and all but shove them toward the living room.
“Go. I’ve got this.”
“You’re coming, too,” Candy says, surprising me when she links her arm with mine.
Jet throws an arm around me. “What she said.”
I give him a suspicious look. “You guys probably want some alone time.”
“We could watch a movie,” Candy says.
Jet leans more heavily against me, and I wrap an arm around his lean hips so we don’t topple over. “That movie you picked about Beowulf.”
“Yes, yes!” Candy is dancing beside me, tugging on my arm, and her excitement makes me smile.
“Beowulf it is,” I say and let them drag me to the sofa.
***
We end up watching Beowulf and then The Nibelungen, and drinking half a bottle of whiskey. I’m seated between the two of them, and it’s warm, and their bodies pressed against mine turn my thoughts into spinning circles.
If you asked me, I couldn’t tell you anything about the movies we watched. Candy’s curled up, her head ending up against my shoulder, her tits pressed to my arm, and on my other side Jet’s sprawled with one leg thrown over mine, sipping his whiskey, his throat working as he swallows.
The TV is just a distracting box with colors in the background.
My cock twitches. I don’t think I’ve ever been so hard in my life. A voice in the back of my mind is crowing with delight.
Another one is whispering that extracting myself from this tangle will be difficult.
Especially when Jet mutters something unintelligible and presses his face to my neck.
Christ. I reach up, put my hand on his head with the intention of pulling him back, but for some reason I only dig my fingers in his spiky hair and inhale. I turn, press a kiss to his forehead.
