ruffled Nicky’s fur.
“It really was bad,” I whispered in her ear. She gave me a happy doggy grin and licked my face. Gah, dog spit. I wiped it off with the back of my hand and went back to work on the bills. I gave up a half hour or so later.
It was hard to concentrate. Z and Jake had switched to the Wii and were up battling it out. Alec was asleep on the couch behind them, bad Nicky curled up against his tummy. I didn’t know how either of them was sleeping; the noise level was astounding. Super Smash Bros. wasn’t a quiet game at the best of times, and between Z and Jake it sounded like a real brawl. That was the trouble with Z being mostly straight instead of the real thing. Whenever he was between girlfriends, he liked dick. If I was going to be specific, he liked my dick. Since I’d been in love with him for, well, forever, I wasn’t very good at saying no. It was pathetic that I was such a slut for him, but a solution to that problem had yet to present itself.
It was an open secret and might not have been such an issue, but he was also territorial. He hadn’t made up his mind that he was going to be gay and keep me, and was apt to run off with the nearest set of tits at any moment, but in his mind, or heart or groin—whatever made his decisions for him—I was his. He did not like Jake. Which was fair; Jake didn’t like him, either. I could see Jake’s side of it. I’d have to be stupid not to. I’d explained about Z at the beginning of my relationship with Jake. I’d yet to meet the guy who could keep Z out of my pants. Beyond that talk, Z was out of bounds as a subject. He wasn’t going away; I wasn’t going to listen to bitching about him. I figured that would be the end of things between us. He wouldn’t have been the first guy I’d lost because my heart was Z-zoned. It hadn’t happened that way, though. Maybe Jake thought it was a challenge, or maybe he just wanted sex. I hadn’t figured out yet why he stayed, but he had, even though when he came over the two of them stalked around one another like junkyard dogs, each waiting for the other to attack.
Tonight had been no different but so far remained free of bloodshed, even though it seemed like they might use the Wii-motes on each other instead of the game at any moment. I didn’t know what I was going to do about them. I loved Z, and Jake… was Jake. I wasn’t in love, exactly, but neither was I ready to let him go. I made the same decision I always did—to worry about it later—and headed for the kitchen to get something to eat.
A long bar backed by kitchen cabinets separated the kitchen from the living room. I poked around, but there was no sign of whatever Z had scarfed down for dinner. He’d probably eaten before he got home, leaving me reduced to scavenging the refrigerator for something to fill my belly. Shaved turkey, lettuce, and cheese would make a sandwich. I was debating the probability of there being pickles lost somewhere in the depths of the refrigerator when a pair of arms wrapped around my waist and hot breath warmed my neck. I almost dropped the mayonnaise. Z.
Z and I never talked about what we felt for one another. The emotion between us remained undefined. The result of our failure at communication was that Z wasn’t my anything . I had Jake and he was my boyfriend. Jake liked to talk and made sure I understood what he expected. What happened between Z and me when Jake wasn’t around had no impact on my relationship with Jake. However jealous and territorial Z could get, it was understood between the three of us that when Jake was with me, he had boyfriend billing. If Z happened to be around, he was reduced to roommate/best friend/some guy I fucked. He could take his pick but they were all second place to Jake. He didn’t like it, but he wasn’t willing to take the step that would change things, and I wasn’t going to live my life waiting to find out if he ever would. Z wanted to
“It really was bad,” I whispered in her ear. She gave me a happy doggy grin and licked my face. Gah, dog spit. I wiped it off with the back of my hand and went back to work on the bills. I gave up a half hour or so later.
It was hard to concentrate. Z and Jake had switched to the Wii and were up battling it out. Alec was asleep on the couch behind them, bad Nicky curled up against his tummy. I didn’t know how either of them was sleeping; the noise level was astounding. Super Smash Bros. wasn’t a quiet game at the best of times, and between Z and Jake it sounded like a real brawl. That was the trouble with Z being mostly straight instead of the real thing. Whenever he was between girlfriends, he liked dick. If I was going to be specific, he liked my dick. Since I’d been in love with him for, well, forever, I wasn’t very good at saying no. It was pathetic that I was such a slut for him, but a solution to that problem had yet to present itself.
It was an open secret and might not have been such an issue, but he was also territorial. He hadn’t made up his mind that he was going to be gay and keep me, and was apt to run off with the nearest set of tits at any moment, but in his mind, or heart or groin—whatever made his decisions for him—I was his. He did not like Jake. Which was fair; Jake didn’t like him, either. I could see Jake’s side of it. I’d have to be stupid not to. I’d explained about Z at the beginning of my relationship with Jake. I’d yet to meet the guy who could keep Z out of my pants. Beyond that talk, Z was out of bounds as a subject. He wasn’t going away; I wasn’t going to listen to bitching about him. I figured that would be the end of things between us. He wouldn’t have been the first guy I’d lost because my heart was Z-zoned. It hadn’t happened that way, though. Maybe Jake thought it was a challenge, or maybe he just wanted sex. I hadn’t figured out yet why he stayed, but he had, even though when he came over the two of them stalked around one another like junkyard dogs, each waiting for the other to attack.
Tonight had been no different but so far remained free of bloodshed, even though it seemed like they might use the Wii-motes on each other instead of the game at any moment. I didn’t know what I was going to do about them. I loved Z, and Jake… was Jake. I wasn’t in love, exactly, but neither was I ready to let him go. I made the same decision I always did—to worry about it later—and headed for the kitchen to get something to eat.
A long bar backed by kitchen cabinets separated the kitchen from the living room. I poked around, but there was no sign of whatever Z had scarfed down for dinner. He’d probably eaten before he got home, leaving me reduced to scavenging the refrigerator for something to fill my belly. Shaved turkey, lettuce, and cheese would make a sandwich. I was debating the probability of there being pickles lost somewhere in the depths of the refrigerator when a pair of arms wrapped around my waist and hot breath warmed my neck. I almost dropped the mayonnaise. Z.
Z and I never talked about what we felt for one another. The emotion between us remained undefined. The result of our failure at communication was that Z wasn’t my anything . I had Jake and he was my boyfriend. Jake liked to talk and made sure I understood what he expected. What happened between Z and me when Jake wasn’t around had no impact on my relationship with Jake. However jealous and territorial Z could get, it was understood between the three of us that when Jake was with me, he had boyfriend billing. If Z happened to be around, he was reduced to roommate/best friend/some guy I fucked. He could take his pick but they were all second place to Jake. He didn’t like it, but he wasn’t willing to take the step that would change things, and I wasn’t going to live my life waiting to find out if he ever would. Z wanted to
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