Always Three: A MMM Menage Coming Out of the Closet Romance (The Always Series Book 7)

by J. P. James

  Hudson scratches his jaw, working out my words like a problem that needs solving. “Okay, so you thought she was attractive, so dating made sense. But it sounds like you knew she wasn’t the one. So, why propose? Why marry her?”

  I hold his words in my head, turning them over like an unearthed fossil. He has a point. Marriage is about committing to that one person, right?

  I shake my head, going back to the jewelry store on Seventh Avenue, and then the night in my apartment when I got on one knee. I try to zero in on what I was feeling. Instead of working out my emotions on that day, though, my memories continue to rewind. After a moment, they settle on a day trip to the Whittaker Botanical Gardens.

  “You remember that trip we took in third grade, and our class walked by that couple getting married in the flower field?” I ask them.

  Hudson and Hayden squint but tilt their heads as if they have a fragment of the same memory. I can work with fragments though.

  “I remember all of it. She wore a mint green dress, and her husband had a green corsage in his suit. I remember thinking he was handsome, probably because he looked like Colin Firth.”

  “Of course,” Hayden says, and Hudson joins his in laughing at my antics. They call it an obsession, but I’ll deny that with everything I have.

  “Immediately though, I felt an immense sense of shame. I think I knew then that Whittaker wasn’t a gay-friendly town. I remembering thinking that I could never have that kind of wedding,” I say with a frown.

  Their laughter stops, and I watch as their eyes soften.

  “We never hid our sexuality, but I guess we’ve always been different. We were the only twins in town, and we were the tallest kids in town by middle school,” Hudson says as he licks his lips.

  Hayden nods, kneading his own lips with his teeth. “We didn’t care what Whittaker thought. We forced people to accept us.”

  I stare at the coffee table, my eyes drifting over the wood pattern as I consider that thought.

  “You guys weren’t going it alone. You always had each other,” I say with a heavy sigh.

  Hudson inches to the edge of his seat. He brings his hand across the table, and grabs mine.

  “And you’ve always had us,” he explains.

  I look down, but Hudson squeezes my hand harder to bring my attention back to him. He pleads with me, but I feel my eyes pleading right back.

  I turn my hand over in his, our palms clasping. His hand feels so good in mine, but I push the thought to the side.

  “Not to mention,” I say cautiously, not wanting to scare my friends off, “You two have always been good-looking. You’re the brawniest of the brawny, co-captains of the football team, and you fought with swords,” I start to ramble.

  Hayden leans forward too, keeping his hands in his lap.

  “You played with swords too, or don’t you remember?” He questions me.

  “You were Whittaker star athletes. I played with swords because I loved Twelfth Night,” I tell them. “Sometimes I’d hear an idiot talk about your sexuality in the hallway, but they were too chicken to say anything to your faces. You guys were too macho for that.”

  “Macho?” Hudson asks. His eyebrow arches down fiercely.

  “I hate that word,” Hayden confirms.

  “But you know what I mean,” I say, taking my hand out of Hudson’s. Hudson takes his back, looking a little hurt, but understanding the pain radiating off me too.

  “It was different for me,” I say. This time, I really am whining.

  They both scrunch their faces at me. Just as quickly, I see anger flash behind their eyes.

  “Who gave you shit, and where are they so we can kick their asses?” Hudson begs to know.

  I laugh sarcastically. “You’re EMTs, remember? You help people who’ve been beat up.”

  Hayden shakes his head. “I second Hudson. Where are the assholes?”

  I roll my eyes, but their desire to defend me does something confusing, and tender, to my heart.

  “I was short in high school, and I didn’t starting lifting until college. Guys called me twink to my face. They said it with such disgust, and they didn’t even know I was attracted to guys. So I, you know, laid low. I didn’t explore that side, except for the magazines.”

  The guys watch me. I can see them fighting between anger and sadness, but it’s not as if I can change the past. They just never knew, until now. I couldn’t bear to tell them.

  “Once Bucky moved away, I cancelled the subscriptions,” I finish. My eyes find my empty mug, and then I turn back to Hayden. “Can I have one more?”

  Hayden nods curtly. He gets up too fast, maybe trying to fling the anger off the shoulders.

  Hudson looks at the ground, but he has his thumb between his teeth, chewing on the skin. Hayden’s back before too long, with a glass of water as well.

  “You can’t be hungover tomorrow,” he explains. “Drink that too.”

  I look at Hudson, who gestures for me to keep talking.

  “Well, then things just kept going from there. I met Janine, I still felt ashamed of what I might be, and so we kept dating. I had my surgery, so then I felt guilty on top of ashamed. It’s a terrible combination,” I add as a joke to lighten the mood.

  Still, the guys aren’t having it. They look like two frustrated superheroes, wondering what they can do to make the world right.

  “So you owed it to Janine to be a couple, even though you had all these confusing feelings,” Hudson says absent-mindedly, pieces the puzzle together in his head.

  “Isn’t that what I’ve been saying all day?” I tease.

  Hudson looks up, and he looks so tired. He smiles, but his eyes are anything but happy. Hayden shakes his head too, his action matching his brother’s sad gaze.

  “That’s not how love works,” Hayden says. He says it distantly, like he isn’t saying it to me but to everyone who needs the reality check.

  I take two large gulps of my tea, followed by the water. The mix of hot and cold confuses me, but not any more than my sexuality does.

  “I didn’t want Janine to hate me either. We have fun together, and I know she loves me,” I say quietly.

  The twins are silent for a while after that, so I continue to sip my drinks. My mind focuses on the mix of hot and cold in my mouth. It confuses me, but I notice how the combination swirls on my tongue. Both are there until they meld together. Everything is a duality. There’s hot or cold, right or wrong, gay or straight, and I wish I could just blend them together.

  “Maybe I’m bisexual,” I say again. “But I don’t know. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

  Hayden and Hudson lean back against the leather, the noise drawing my eyes back to them.

  “What is it you want Ricky,” Hayden asks, and Hudson nods at the question. “We want to help you however we can.”

  Maybe alcohol wasn’t a good idea. My emotions have run the gamut today, and I have to perform well tomorrow. The tears come slowly, but they come.

  Instead of coming to me, Hudson eyes me and pats the cushions between him and Hayden. “We want to help you.”

  I’m on my feet in an instant, and practically fall onto the leather couch. They don’t move, but just being close to them feels better. I wipe at the tears, wanting to bring myself under control.

  “I’m not sure what I want,” I admit. “I feel freer than I’ve ever felt, but I’m still unsure about everything.”

  The guys shift on either side. They aren’t any closer, but their shifted bodies face me. They feel more open, and for how vulnerable I am, it feels like they’re trying to make themselves vulnerable to me too.

  “It’s okay to be confused,” Hudson says.

  I look at Hayden, his blue eyes sparkling. “It’s like you’ve just survived an avalanche, but you’re buried under all the rubble.”

  “Consider us your personal emergency rescue team,” Hudson confirms with a wink.

  That wink causes me to take a deep, shuddering breath. Thes
e guys have always been here for me, but I’ve tried so hard to ignore my problems instead of ask for help. I swallow my tears, and my pride, before I place each of my hands on their thighs.

  “I just want to feel safe,” I whisper. “In your arms.”

  I look at Hayden first. I watch him gulp. His throat bobs, and then the next thing I know his hand rests on top of mine.

  I swivel my head to Hudson, and blink rapidly as I take in his hungry gaze. He lifts his arms in an invitation.

  Hayden shifts his hands on me as I lean into Hudson, grabbing him around his waist as he pulls me against his chest. He backs up against the arm of the couch, while Hayden takes his time rubbing my legs and thighs. My legs splay out with Hudson’s, wrapped up in each other.

  “Oh my god,” I breath into Hudson’s neck.

  Hudson hugs me tighter, his breath warm and heady in my ear.

  “Tell us what you need,” Hudson asks gently.

  I tilt my head back to look at his properly, my breath coming in short, nervous puffs. “I want to start over with you guys,” I say.

  I crane my neck, catching Hayden’s darkening eyes as he trails his fingers up and down my spine.

  “Make love to me,” I tell Hayden. Hudson’s hips roll up, and I shift back to him. “Help me through the pain.”

  Just like that, Hudson tips forward and presses his lips to mine. Every nerve on my body flares to life ten-fold. His lips are sweet, plump, and very experienced. They feel like velvet against my own. I taste hints of lemon and alcohol, but his lips overwhelm me with spice and warmth. Butterflies crash through my stomach.

  When he bites down on my lip, I grind down against his thigh. He groans, and then pushes his hardening dick against my lower stomach.

  “Yes,” I moan.

  I feel Hayden’s hands come to my hips, gripping the hem of my pants and giving them three quick tugs. I lift my hips enough to bring my hands between Hudson and me, and unbutton myself as quickly as possible. In no time, Hayden pulls my pants and boxers down to mid-thigh.

  I gasp at the shock, feeling the cool air against my ass, but it’s gone the next second as Hayden’s hands play with my cheeks.

  “What do you like?” Hudson pulls back to ask, kissing my cheeks instead.

  My mind’s gone hazy with the sensations and Hudson chuckles when I moan. His arms squeeze me, trying to jolt my brain back to life.

  “I’m not sure,” I tell him.

  I grind myself against his thigh, but then quickly push my ass back into Hayden’s hands, groaning as his grip tightens on my asscheeks.

  “I want to feel you, both of you,” I ask hoarsely.

  “I think we can manage that,” Hayden says behind me.

  He smacks my ass, and a mix of pain and pleasure shoots through me. I have enough wits about me to relish the feeling, but I lose my mind when his tongue swipes a long, wet line down my crack.

  “You’re safe, Ricky,” Hudson says above me. At that, he dips his tongue in my mouth. He’s in no hurry, as his tongue explores every nook and cranny. When he’s done exploring, his massages against mine in time with Hayden’s tongue lapping at my virgin hole. Bliss doesn’t begin to describe what I feel.

  “Oh my god,” I cry, biting Hudson’s bottom lip on accident.

  Far from hating it, Hudson’s gentle kisses gain speed. He starts to kiss passionately, rubbing his thigh against my dick to give it much needed attention.

  I hear Hayden undo his pants, and my breathing stills. Hudson notices first, and his hands start to rub my back and sides.

  “Be free, Ricky,” Hudson whispers.

  I listen to Hayden stroke his cock, and when he presses the tip against my wet ass, he pauses for me to breathe.

  “Push out and breathe. That’s it,” Hudson says.

  “You ready?” Hayden calls.

  I look at Hudson, and nod. “Please.”

  The second he pushes past my ring, I bite down on Hudson’s neck. Hudson cries with me, feeling pain and pleasure along with me.

  Hayden’s cock is huge. The second he bottoms out I see stars, but it’s an amazing feeling. I didn’t know I was empty before, but I’ve never felt so full and so comforted in my life.

  Hayden pulls out slowly, just to the tip before he plows back into me. Hudson keeps his grip on me as I moan, and keeps me still when Hayden’s pace picks up.

  “You’re doing so well. I got you. You’re not going anywhere,” Hudson says, kissing my ears and head.

  His promises blend together with every thrust. The shame and guilt fall away. All that’s here, all that matters, is the three of us. We’re giving each other everything we have.

  “I’m going to come,” Hayden growls, his thrusts erratic.

  “Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” I whine against Hudson’s chest.

  Hayden cries out, and I feel every ounce of come warm my channel. He pulls out slowly, and then he leans back on the couch.

  Hudson doesn’t let go, but shifts us until he pushes me into the cushions next to Hayden. Tucked into the couch, I watch Hudson step back and undo his pants. Hayden pushes his arm under my head, supporting my neck.

  “Lift your legs, baby,” he whispers.

  The command goes to my already aching dick, but I grab the backs of my thighs and present myself to Hudson. I look up and catch Hayden’s eyes. Sweat dots his forehead and colors floods his cheeks.

  “Kiss me,” I beg him.

  He smiles. His hand comes to my chin, keeping my face steady, before he crashes his mouth on mine.

  His tastes exactly like Hudson’s. He isn’t gentle with me though, nipping at my lips earnestly.

  “You’re safe, baby,” he says just as Hudson pushes into my rim.

  “Oh fuck,” I cry, but Hayden swallows the end of it.

  We make out, spit dripping down my chin, as Hudson fucks my aching hole. The intrusion is new and strange, he hits my prostate so well that I want to chase this feeling forever.

  The burn and bliss inside my ass is all consuming. It’s borders on over-sensitive, but then Hayden grabs my cock and I feel my orgasm bulldoze its way to the surface. My dick is slick with pre-come, and every twist of his wrist has me gasping into his mouth.

  I may not know what I want yet, but if I’m going to find out it’s because I have Hayden and Hudson to guide the way. Maybe it’s because I need the guidance, maybe it’s something else, but I orgasm at the same time as Hudson, his words ringing in my ear:

  “Let go, baby. Be free.”

  9

  Hayden

  My saber feels strange in my hand. It’s like coming home after being gone for far too long.

  When Hudson, Ricky, and I started fencing at the academy in Plainview, I thought I would be a swordsman my whole life. I wasn’t going for an Olympic medal or anything, but I promised myself to fence every day of my life. Even through our grueling EMS training schedule, and then our first year of overnight shifts, I made time for it. I dressed in my whites, hung a shirt as my target, and advanced and retreated until my legs were weak. It helps me clear my head, especially after intense nights on the city streets. Being a first responder isn’t easy. I’ve felt like what I did to help didn’t matter, and I’ve second-guessed myself more than I want to admit. I’ve had people die under my care. It’s easy to lose yourself in this profession, and fencing helps me find my way back.

  I haven’t opened my fencing bag once in the last year. The realization dawned on me when I woke up this morning after Ricky left for his audition. He didn’t say much. He didn’t look very happy, or very sad for that matter. He just seemed lost. He whispered goodbye, Hudson still fast asleep, grabbed his phone and left.

  I guess his reaction made me feel just as lost. Instinctively, I went to my room and reached for the fencing gear under my bed. I propped my pillows up on my nightstand, giving it the right height for target practice. My parry is rusty, but I can advance like a pro. I’ve always been better at offense anyways.

  �
��En garde,” I hiss, lunging forward.

  The blunt tip taps the pillowcase for the hundredth time, the stuffing giving way under the little bit of pressure. I’ve been in here the last hour, lunging and retreating from the pillow as if it were an enemy.

  The only real enemy right now is uncertainty. I have zero idea what Ricky is thinking right now. Maybe he isn’t thinking at all.

  “Coffee’s ready,” Hudson whispers over my shoulder.

  I turn and lunge, bringing my blade up to his chest as I shout. Lucky for the both of us, Hudson has always been better at defense.

  He retreats with the precision of a fine-tuned machine, his torso dodging my blade entirely. His arm comes up to parry, and his hand smacks my shoulder hard.

  “Easy!” He shouts back as his hand retracts.

  “Ouch!” I shout. “Quit sneaking up on me.”

  I drop my saber to my side, my fingers gripping the hilt gingerly. Hudson looks down at it, and when his eyes come back to mine he huffs out a breath.

  “On edge?” He asks.

  I chew the inside of my cheek as I set the blade down gently. I zip it away quickly and shove my bag back under the bed.

  “Don’t stop on my account. Just don’t impale me,” Hudson jokes.

  I roll my eyes. Sometimes it’s too early for dramatics. “I wish I could, but the rubber tip makes murder difficult.”

  He eyes the bag under the bed again, and then drags his gaze back up to meet me.

  “You haven’t touched your blade since Danny freaked out,” he says.

  Hearing the reminder sounds so pathetic. It was a year ago that Danny walked in on Hudson and me training in the living room. He caught the money shot where Hudson narrowly missed the tip of my saber touch his sternum. Danny didn’t understand Fencing, he never tried to, and when he saw one of his boyfriends “attack” the other he flipped his shit. It didn’t matter that the blunt tips were made of rubber, or that his boyfriends were nearly professionals. Danny screamed at us, mostly me, and refused to let us spar. It was Danny or the swords.

  As I follow Hudson out of my room and into the kitchen, I think about how that should have been our breaking point. Danny wasn’t right for us. Not only did he not understand our love of the sport, but also turned his ignorance into fear. Worse, we let his fear control us. Hudson retired his epee that same night too.