Third One

by Roe Horvat

  “We’re okay. It’s all good, baby,” Marcus said as he wrapped a bathrobe around Luke’s shoulders before hugging him tight. “It’s Liam’s. You’re the same height.”

  The heavy cotton on his skin soothed him—a comfort blanket. Luke rubbed his nose against Marcus’s throat. The bathrobe is Liam’s. He didn’t want to lift his head from its hiding place.

  But could he still kiss Marcus when Liam wasn’t there?

  Fuck. I kissed Marcus, and Liam had been there.

  I kissed Liam.

  I fucked Liam’s mouth.

  He laughed. His shoulders shook, and he had to grab Marcus around his back to keep himself upright.

  Wiping at his wet eyes, he was still chuckling when they left the bathroom, and Marcus led him through the corridor toward the last door on the left. Now the corridor didn’t seem all that long. There were only seven doors altogether.

  He’d never been in their bedroom before. Why would he? Marcus took his bathrobe, hung it on the peg by the door. and slid out of his own charcoal one.

  Marcus in his nakedness, so beautiful…

  “You’re beautiful,” Luke said. Am I awake?

  Smiling, Marcus took Luke’s hand and led him to the bed, graceful as always. He threw back the covers and brought Luke with him when he lay down. Their legs tangled, and Luke was floating, kissing the love of his life, caressing the gorgeous naked body, and…missing Liam’s touch.

  He needed Liam. He needed Liam with them, or the old guilt was going to find him and eat him alive. Guilt… Did he feel guilty? Where was Liam? He needed, no, wanted Liam.

  Just as he captured that thought, barely nudged the implications of it, a handle clicked, and a short bout of draft hit his shoulders. The bed dipped behind him, and he exhaled with relief. Liam is here.

  He turned and searched for Liam’s lips, needing the connection. They kissed, and Marcus sighed, curling closer to Luke, laying his head on Luke’s shoulder. Liam nipped at Luke’s lips, and then he kissed his cheek. Luke was wrapped in the embrace of both men, their hands running over his torso and thigh, and he felt fatigue fall on him like a bag of wet sand.

  “That was fast. Everyone’s gone?” Marcus whispered.

  “Tyler and Adam are taking care of that. They’ll lock up when they leave,” Liam said.

  “Christoffer still has the key ?”

  “Yes. And he’s sober. He’s the one driving.”

  A hand weaved into Luke’s hair.

  “He’s exhausted.”

  “Yes. Can you blame him?”

  Ah, the melody of their voices. Like the most gorgeous lullaby.

  “Luke.”

  “Mhmm?”

  “Nothing. Sleep.”

  He didn’t remember anything after that.

  Eight

  Liam

  With his eyes closed, Liam inhaled the scent from Luke’s nape, the fine hair tickling his nose. Luke slept deeply, and the calm seemed to permeate the whole room. In the early summer, the night darkness was weak, fearful. The sun was lurking just below the horizon, waiting for barely a few hours before brightening the sky again. Liam was used to sleeping poorly during the Swedish summers, but he didn’t complain. More time to live before the gloomy northern winter ate his soul for six months straight.

  At this moment, he was bone-deep content with lying awake. He opened his eyes and peered over Luke’s shoulder, the planes and valleys of velvet skin spreading in front of his eyes. The covers lay tangled around their hips, barely hiding Luke’s groin. Liam wanted to follow the trail of light brown hair on Luke’s belly with his lips. Later.

  Marcus hadn’t moved since Luke had fallen asleep, lying on his side, flush to Luke’s body, hand on Luke’s chest. Marcus’s fingers twitched a little as his hand rose and sank with Luke’s breaths, and he seemed to be smiling in his dream.

  Liam wouldn’t pray. He knew human lives were ruled by Chaos—an immense maze of countless paths crisscrossing, countless insignificant decisions by countless human beings like stones in an endless avalanche, rolling forward, crashing, falling, and destroying each other. Thirty years was a long time to be aware of the lack of sense life made. So no, he wouldn’t pray. He wouldn’t beg for fortune to bless him for one more night. His happiness was in his own hands and the hands of the sleeping men by his side.

  Liam remembered vividly the first time he’d seen Luke. He had just returned from a two-week business trip to Spain and took a taxi directly to the theater to pick up Marcus after a premiere. He rushed through the corridor along the dressing rooms and offices, and Marcus came from around a corner. They embraced, and Liam kissed Marcus on his forehead, happy to be holding his love again. Then his smile froze when he saw the young man standing in the door to one of the dressing rooms. Blond bangs, wide mouth with full lips, high cheekbones, distinct eyebrows—unusual for someone with light hair—and piercing, miserable blue eyes. The man looked crestfallen, locked in overwhelming sadness. Then as if he’d just realized Liam was staring back at him, he straightened, pushed off the doorframe, and disappeared back into the dressing room.

  Liam found out soon enough why Luke avoided him. The heart wants what the heart wants, and Luke fell in love with Marcus. While Marcus took a long time to realize and even then didn’t fully understand the depth of Luke’s feelings, Liam knew. Maybe it was because he knew how it felt to love Marcus. He couldn’t blame the young man. He could feel the heartbreak as if it were his own.

  Then came the day Liam understood Marcus fell for the broody dancer. What a strange feeling. Because Liam wasn’t jealous or angry, just sad and a little disconnected.

  Since then, he’d watched Luke. With his own eyes and through Marcus’s spellbound gaze. Maybe that was why he felt like he knew Luke; Marcus’s love for Luke had been a natural part of their life for some time. As Liam saw the man now, held him, with the scent of his hair in his nostrils, that love surrounded them like a cloud of warmth and happiness. One gust of wind and it would disperse, but Liam was ready to protect it with all his might.

  Liam had almost fallen asleep again when Luke stirred. Stretching and sighing, Luke opened his eyes in the half darkness. He startled at his surroundings, turning his head to Marcus’s sleeping form glued to his side, and then his wide gaze flicked to Liam’s face.

  Luke’s mouth parted in surprise, but Liam wouldn’t let him fear or doubt or even think too much. He lifted a finger and placed it on Luke’s lips, adding a gentle caress. Luke blinked slowly. When he reopened his eyes, they had softened already. He kissed Liam’s finger, dry velvet, and Liam felt his lips stretch in a smile. He let his hand wander down Luke’s cheek, tracing the shell of Luke’s ear and the angle of his jaw, while Luke watched him with sleepy eyes and parted mouth.

  At night, everything seemed easier. Every doubt and question muted, Liam could lean closer until his chest was flush to Luke’s side and nuzzle Luke’s temple. Luke met his touch, they brushed their lips against each other’s skin, and Luke hummed softly. Liam petted his hair, his neck, slow and soothing.

  Marcus was a heavy sleeper, and he rarely woke up during the night. He didn’t move when Luke took his hand where it lay on Luke’s chest, and wove their fingers together. Liam covered their joined hands with his. Soon Luke’s breathing slowed again, hot and damp on the side of Liam’s face.

  Nine

  Luke

  Luke woke up, holding Marcus’s hand. He was lying on his back, and his neck ached a little. He moved his fingers to feel the texture of Marcus’s skin. Marcus’s hand was warm and soft as he slept. Keeping their fingers interlaced, Luke peeled his eyes open. The first thing he saw was Liam’s face. Luke’s mind flashed back to a hazy memory from late last night—Liam kissing his eyebrow and nuzzling his temple while Luke teetered on the edge of a dream. Had it been a dream?

  In the light of the morning, Liam lay on his side next to Luke, supporting his head with his hand, scrolling on his phone. His eyebrows furrowed; he seemed in high concentratio
n. His features were ageless, or so Luke thought, because despite the silver in his hair and deep lines on his forehead, Liam radiated energy. His neatly trimmed, charcoal beard had only a few streaks of white in it, and his dark brown eyes, now without the designer glasses, were perceptive and dangerously intelligent. They had always looked black to Luke. Now, Luke saw the warmth in them. Chocolate and coffee. Kindness. When Liam saw Luke was awake, he put the device under the pillow and smiled, full lips curving beautifully.

  “Morning,” he whispered.

  Luke just stared. Liam smiled wider, probably at Luke’s expression, and leaned closer to kiss him lightly on the lips. Luke blinked.

  What was he even supposed to say? What was he still doing here?

  Liam ran his fingers down the side of Luke’s face.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Oh god, here it comes. This is when he tells me to leave.

  “For what?” Luke croaked, throat dry.

  “I wanted to do this the proper way. Talk, agree, take our time. But you were… difficult. And you were breaking Marcus’s heart.”

  “What are we doing?”

  “I don’t know. We might be falling in love.”

  Liam was a master of casually dropping these conversational bombs, making Luke’s mind spin. Luke didn’t reply. He couldn’t come up with anything sensible he would say.

  Marcus stirred next to Luke and let go of his hand. He rolled and snuggled closer, laying his head on Luke’s shoulder, and Luke hugged him around his back. Marcus’s skin against his own, the coarse hair on his legs brushing against Luke’s, the scent, Liam’s deep eyes flicking between his own. It was too much. All those sensations, impressions, and touches layered on top of each other left Luke helpless, flattened. Don’t screw this up. This is perfect. Don’t screw up. But how?

  “I don’t know what to do…” he said honestly, and Liam raised his eyebrows. Because this wasn’t just sex, was it? Luke couldn’t bear the thought. He’d had enough casual threesomes in his life to know how little a third person meant to a steady couple looking for an adventure. He couldn’t do that with Marcus and Liam. Except he already had. But Liam wouldn’t be so gentle with Luke now if last night had been just some fun to spice up their relationship. Or would he? What else could it mean?

  “Don’t talk,” Marcus mumbled. “It’s too early.”

  Liam’s chuckle broke the downward spiral of Luke’s thoughts, chasing the anxiety away.

  “He’s not a morning person,” Liam said, smirking. He leaned over Luke’s chest and brushed his lips on Marcus’s forehead. Then he kissed Luke’s cheek.

  “I’m going to fix us breakfast. Want to help me?” he asked and sat up.

  Luke nodded. He too kissed Marcus, who just mumbled something incoherent and rolled away again, taking the blanket with him. The back of his tousled head was all that stuck out from under the covers, and Luke gave him a lingering look. His stomach felt suddenly queasy. Shouldn’t he stay here with Marcus? What was the right thing to do?

  “You’re coming?” Liam asked mildly, and Luke spun around. The tall man stood in the bedroom door, only in his low-hanging pajama pants, the defined V of his abdomen showing. Luke followed him like a lemming.

  They brushed their teeth, standing next to each other by the twin vanity in the vast bathroom. Luke felt vulnerable in his nakedness, and he startled when Liam turned, dropped his pajama pants unceremoniously, and peed. Okay. Domestic. Why not? Luke did the same while Liam washed his hands with his back to him.

  Teeth brushed, bladder empty, he felt a little more awake and even more exposed. When Liam turned to him, he couldn’t help but cover his bare groin. The man smiled indulgently.

  “You’re gorgeous. I should let you be naked all day.”

  He stepped closer and ran a hand down Luke’s chest before he claimed his mouth in a kiss. Damn. Luke was learning to love Liam’s kisses. Their tongues touched in a soft caress, and underneath the taste of toothpaste hid something sharp and exotic. Luke couldn’t help but deepen the kiss and shudder when Liam brushed his knuckles down Luke’s belly. He caressed Luke’s back and ass cheeks before he stepped away, leaving Luke confused and unsatisfied. Luke covered his half-hard cock with a shaky hand, but Liam’s eyes missed nothing. They darkened, and Luke didn’t know what to do—kneel and open his mouth or run home. Then the man picked up his glasses from the vanity and smoothly put them on his nose.

  “I’ll get you something to wear,” he said, breaking the moment.

  They were similar in build. Liam was wirier, his muscles leaner, joints sharper, his body altogether more mature, but he had slim hips as well, and his casual linen pants fitted Luke perfectly.

  Luke looked down his bare chest and then at Liam.

  “No T-shirt?”

  Liam tilted his head, appraising his torso.

  “No. I think not.”

  Luke shook his head at Liam’s cocky smirk. “Whatever. I’m hungry.”

  He followed Liam down the stairs and mumbled a quiet curse when he saw an assortment of empty bottles and glasses on every surface of the furniture in the large living room. The morning light streamed into the room, reflecting off the glasses, the whole scene quiet, eerie, as if the party had happened weeks ago and not only a few hours back. With the eclectic décor and white futuristic-shaped armchairs, the room had a postapocalyptic sci-fi feeling that messed with Luke’s already confused head.

  “I forgot about the party,” he said, looking around.

  “Yeah. It’s a mess,” Liam said, waving his hand in the air nonchalantly. “C had already filled one dishwasher for us yesterday. Let’s load one more and collect the bottles. The cleaning service will take care of the rest on Monday.”

  Luke found it calming, working with Liam. He handed Liam the clean glasses from the dishwasher, and Liam put them away in the dark wooden cupboards. Then they took one tray each and did a sweep through the premises for more. When he collected the trash from the patio tables, the gentle breeze outside cooled Luke’s cheeks. The knots in his stomach loosened as he worked. They emptied the few ashtrays outside, mostly filled with napkins and toothpicks instead of cigarette stubs. The beer bottles went into a crate, which they put in front of the house by the garage, and they started the dishwasher again.

  Only then did Liam turn on the coffee machine. Luke watched the coffee brew, and as he sat after running around cleaning, the silence made him nervous again. There were so many questions chasing each other in his mind he didn’t know where to start.

  “How does this work, then?” he blurted, realizing too late he wasn’t making much sense.

  Liam lifted his gaze toward him. “I gather you’re not asking about the coffee machine.” His soft smile let Luke know he understood the question perfectly. “You’re not here as some kind of temporary diversion if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I’m not?” Luke lifted an eyebrow. He could think of various explanations for Liam’s behavior, but none of them made him happy. The possibility Liam was just humoring Marcus made Luke feel… cheap. Expendable. Humiliated. Why do I care what Liam thinks? Why do I want him to care about me? He took the coffee from Liam and shook his head when the man offered him some milk. This morning required strong and black.

  Liam sipped from his mug and leaned with his hip on the counter. “I like you, Luke,” he began slowly, watching Luke’s face with unnerving focus. “And I am very, very attracted to you. But you and Marcus know each other inside out. You and I, we have to work on that.”

  “Work?”

  “That sounded rather ominous, didn’t it?”

  Luke shrugged. “Depends. I don’t mind work.” Luke’s mind raced, rearranging his questions, discarding some, and finding new ones. Liam wanted to get to know him. No, he wanted to work on that. Did he want them to be together? Luke couldn’t wrap his head around it. Having sex with a few people at the same time was one thing – apart from logistics and usually quick negotiations not
very difficult. But a relationship? That was a whole other level of complexity. How would that even work? Work. That same word again. Liam was still looking at him expectantly. “You once said we have a lot in common. This might be one of those things,” Luke said.

  “We both like a challenge? Or we both work too much?”

  “Maybe both. With your confidence, it’s easy to underestimate how much effort and discipline you must put in.”

  Luke enjoyed how Liam eyed him with understanding and admiration in his slight smile. Yes, he wanted Liam to admire him. He’d always wanted that. Again, why?

  “That’s an elegant way of telling me I am a workaholic.” Liam was grinning widely now, playful and challenging.

  Strange warmth filled Luke’s gut. Could he really banter and joke with Liam? With Liam? It felt like a small miracle. “Are you? A workaholic, I mean?”

  “Yes.”

  Luke snorted at Liam’s plain honesty. “That’s supposed to be encouraging?”

  “You need the bigger picture.”

  “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “From the universal perspective, even if you include the selfish, basic human desire to propagate, each individual life is pointless. Especially when you’re rich and comfortable with nothing to fight for. And because it is pointless, the ways to approach it are interchangeable—pointless pessimism or pointless optimism—it doesn’t matter which one you choose. I can decide to be positive about everything. It doesn’t matter anyway. So I don’t complain about work—work and love distract me from death.”

  Luke guffawed when he quickly recapped the exchange in his head. A shirtless Liam explaining the meaning of life (or the lack of thereof) while cracking eggs in a bowl… Luke couldn’t stop chuckling.

  “It’s probably too early to be this philosophical,” Liam said.

  “I don’t think there is ever a good time to say things like that.”

  Liam smirked. “You sound just like Marcus.”