Mick
They slept curled together that night, like three kittens, in a tight formation in the center of the large expanse of bed. Mick woke up a few times during the night, because that’s what he always did, to give himself a chance to appreciate the feel of Scotty’s body beside his, to be sure everything was okay.
The sky outside the open curtains was still dark gray when he woke up with only one warm body in his arms. The other sat at the foot of the bed, staring out at the container yard across the street.
Mick gently untangled himself from Scotty’s embrace and slipped up alongside Mercy. She leaned against him and he wrapped his arms around her.
“I should probably get going.”
Mick didn’t feel he had the right to tell her not to, even after hearing the raw pain and regret in her voice. He pulled her head onto his shoulder and held her tighter.
“Don’t—” Scotty’s voice was clogged with sleep; he stretched and rubbed the bottom of his foot against Mick’s back. His soft foot disappeared and Mick checked to see that it had moved to Mercy’s back. “I mean, you don’t have to. Come down and work with us today. Or at least have breakfast before you go.”
Mercy turned her face against Mick’s shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
She shook her head without moving away, and Mick shivered at the way her hair tickled his chest, the way her body felt against his. “I’m in so much trouble.”
“Hey.” Mick gently moved her away so he could see her face, and that fast Scotty sat behind and between them. “What kind of trouble?”
“I don’t want to leave. I don’t think I can.” A few tears skidded down her cheeks and she tried to turn away.
“I don’t want you to leave,” Mick whispered, his lips on her ear. After a tense moment, Mick fearing she would keep crying and there would be nothing he could do to soothe her, Mercy relaxed against him.
“Now that’s settled, I’ll go make breakfast.” Scotty slid off the bed and stood in front of them for a moment. The beauty of his nude body stole Mick’s breath, the solid muscles lightly dusted with blond hair, the slight rise of Scotty’s large straight cock. “Walt’s been griping about how he wants some time off. You should come down with us and spend the day behind the counter. Don’t ask him, just do it. He’s not dumb enough to turn down the help when he needs it.”
Mercy looked up at him for a second and then nodded.
The three of them got ready for the day in silence, even though Mick had a sneaking suspicion that Mercy was something of a morning person. She had a bounce in her step while she walked down the stairs, wearing Mick’s jeans and a T-shirt of Scotty’s. Walt did a double take when they all entered the shack together, but Scotty was right, he didn’t refuse her help. By the end of the day Walt even smiled at her.
They went through the next four days like that—sleeping curled up together after mind-blowing sex, and then working the yard. Tuesday during lunch Mick drove Mercy to the shelter to return the car she’d borrowed, and she tried to make it seem like she wasn’t bringing every last one of her worldly possessions back to Bell’s in one gym bag. Having her own clothes didn’t keep her from wearing Scotty and Mick’s T-shirts, though. She wore her own jeans and boots, but if she had any shirts in her bag Mick didn’t see them on her. It wasn’t surprising, though. Girls were like that. Wanda had worn Keith’s shirts as often as she had her own.
Thinking of Wanda and, by association, Keith, hurt. It hurt like a Microbus rolling over his chest, but Mick didn’t push those thoughts away. Eventually they’d hurt less, whether he wanted it to happen or not. In the meantime he didn’t want to forget the precious few good things about being a Randall, like Wanda’s hugs and how she always brought him breakfast in bed on his birthday, or how Keith had sometimes read his mind.
On Friday, Walt left at noon, saying he had things to do and wouldn’t be in until the next morning. Nobody said anything, but the look the three shared said Mick wasn’t the only one starting to suspect Walt had something going with a woman. Mick didn’t want to ask if the answer would be no, and it wasn’t his business anyway. He knew how it felt to be alone and didn’t want to rub Walt’s face in it, especially after wearing a silly, shit-eating grin all week.
More than Walt was different on Friday, though. They closed up the yard at the regular time, but the crackling tension that had buzzed between the three of them all week seemed different. Subdued, maybe? Mick still felt the same—he wanted to wolf down some food so they could fall into bed and forget about the rest of the world until morning. But something had changed. Mick tried to ignore it as they climbed the stairs. By the time he closed the door behind them, he realized he was holding his breath.
Scotty started toward the kitchen, but stopped fast, like he just remembered something. He turned toward Mick and Mercy, and his face looked strangely blank. No, not blank, he obviously felt comfortable, and he wasn’t angry…
“I’ll cook some dinner.” Scotty slowly backed toward the kitchen and gave a little shrug. He almost smiled, but seemed preoccupied. “You guys should go and do…whatever you want.”
“Are you sure?” Mick watched alarm skid across Scotty’s face, and felt helpless. He meant to follow Scotty into the kitchen and find out what was the matter. Mercy took Mick’s hand and pulled him in the other direction. He offered some resistance, but not enough so she had to choose between letting go or maybe getting hurt.
Mercy closed the bedroom door and pulled Scotty’s Green Day T-shirt off over her head. “Don’t worry about Scotty, he’s okay.”
Mick wanted to ask a question, but for a long moment, as she looked him over then slowly approached where he stood leaning against the door, he couldn’t think of what it was. What could be more important than the gentle bounce of Mercy’s tits as she wiggled toward—
“Are you sure? I’ll go—”
“You can’t keep asking if he’s okay with us spending time together without him.” Mercy rested her hand in the center of Mick’s chest and waited until he looked up into her eyes. “If you do, he’ll think he shouldn’t be okay with it, which will just make him confused and angry.”
“What?”
“Come here, sit down and let me paw at you while I explain it.” She grinned wickedly as she tugged at Mick’s shirt. He accommodated her and yanked it off over his head. Mercy took his hand again, but before she could bring him to the bed Mick pulled her against his chest. She sighed as his hand slipped up her spine and into her hair. Mick combed his fingers through the thick black strands and eased her head closer to his. He couldn’t let her speak, not yet—he covered her sweet mouth with his. Mick had been thinking about this all afternoon—with one exception.
Reluctantly, he eased back on the kiss. Mercy smiled against his lips as she moved them both toward the bed.
“Do you know what I meant when I said Scotty’s an ace?”
“Hmmm…no.” Mick filled a hand with Mercy’s ass and pulled her close. He felt slightly disoriented at the absence of a bulge in her jeans when her eyes were so obviously glazed with lust, and remembered with a small shiver her lesson on tucking.
“Well, it means he’s asexual. That’s his orientation.” She nuzzled Mick’s neck as she popped the buttons of his fly open. “It’s a spectrum: the ace spectrum. Scotty’s all over the place. He feels romantic attraction, but not a lot of sexual attraction. Used to be with one exception, but now there are two.”
Mercy leaned back far enough to catch Mick’s eye. She touched the tip of her finger to his chest. “One bisexual.”
After a moment to let that sink in—bisexual…okay, so that’s what I am—Mercy threw her arm out to her side with a grin and a flourish. “And one fluid queer.”
“Hold on a second.” Mick stepped back and pushed his jeans down. He realized he still had his boots on and sat bare-assed on the bed to pull them off. He couldn’t quite look at Mercy as he tried to frame the questions in his mind. “He practically jumped me that first time…and this week. I don’t—”
“Like I said, you’re one of his exceptions. So am I. He’s never had much of a sex drive, but it flares. This past week was one helluva flare, and it was great. But if it’s over, then we have to respect it if he’d rather cook than fuck.”
Mick tossed his socks into the corner on top of his boots, and then his jeans landed on top of the pile. He stared at the mound of clothes, trying to take apart what Mercy had just said and get to the important part. Scotty not wanting sex? It sort of made sense. More than once Mick had wondered if Scotty was starting to lose interest in him, if he was bored with sucking each other off every night and wanted more. Maybe he’d wanted less?
Mercy approached him slowly; she’d stripped down to her underwear and looked gorgeous and slinky and fuckable. Mick sighed and looked up the length of her slender body.
“But it’s okay if we…?”
“It is. He’s not jealous of us being alone together. He wants the three of us to be together, you heard him say that yourself.” Mercy trailed her fingertips through Mick’s hair, a soft smile on her face. “We all have different needs…desires. You like to fuck people the same gender as you. And you like to fuck people of…other genders.”
“So, it’s really okay if I want to…” Mick stood and took Mercy’s face in his hands. He swiped his thumbs across her cheekbones. She licked her lips and left them parted, and he accepted the invitation.
“Please…” she whispered against his lips.
God, he loved it when she did that. It made something swell inside him, filling an empty space he hadn’t realized existed.
Mercy kissed him hard and ran the tip of her tongue along his bottom lip. Mick held her shoulders and pushed his tongue deep into her mouth. He shuddered when she sucked on his tongue. A moment later she started wiggling in his arms. At first he didn’t realize what she was doing, and would’ve released her if she hadn’t whimpered and sucked even harder.
Mick got lost in Mercy’s searing kiss, so when her nude body pressed against him, he felt almost like the wind got knocked out of him.
“You okay?” she asked, breathless, her pretty lips swollen and red as she panted through them.
“God, you’re beautiful.” Mick kissed her softly, loving her moans as his hands roamed across her shoulders and down to her breasts. He leaned down to suck one hard nipple into his mouth and she cried out, her hands gripping his shoulders.
He gently lowered Mercy onto the bed, and carefully climbed on top of her without taking his lips from hers. Both knees between her thighs, Mick rubbed the length of his body against hers. His cock was so hard against her stomach it almost hurt to rub against her soft skin. Mick moved his mouth to her neck, licking and sucking gently enough so it shouldn’t leave a mark, and then moved on to her ear.
“I’m not sure how…” he whispered.
“It’s not much different than what you’re used to, baby. Just…” Mercy reached into the drawer beside the bed, turning onto her side as she grabbed the lube.
Mick stopped her before she could turn any farther. He lifted the tube from her hand and placed it on the bed. He framed her face with both hands. “I want to do it this way…looking at you, kissing you. Is that okay? Will it…?”
“Yes, it’s…yes…” Her voice broke, and Mick thought she couldn’t go on, not that she didn’t want to. For a moment he worried, the look on her face—the naked desire and trust and love, it hit him so hard for a few brief seconds he wasn’t sure his lungs would fill again. And then Mercy lifted her head enough to kiss him, and took his cock in her hand at the same time.
Mick relaxed and thought of the porn he’d watched—not much, and not really the kind that would help him in this situation—while he kissed Mercy and touched her lovely body. When she relaxed again too, Mick popped open the lube and managed to get enough onto his fingers to get preparations started—oh, shit, preparations to fuck Mercy.
Mick moaned when he thought that, and then again when Mercy wrapped both legs around him, above his waist, high enough to give him easy access to her. He circled her tight opening, watching her face as pleasure and anticipation bloomed. He was truly amazed at what was about to happen, the way his body tingled and his heart swelled at how Mercy would open herself to him so easily, so eagerly.
Her moan when he pushed his fingers inside her was deeper than her speaking voice, rough, husky with desire. When she started bucking her hips Mick was afraid he wouldn’t last so he pulled his hand away and quickly dragged the condom on. He almost forgot to lube it up, but remembered at the last moment, when the condom hitched against Mercy’s lube-slicked hole. The bedspread would be messy, but Mick couldn’t worry about that. Maybe later. He eased the head of his cock inside Mercy and wasn’t surprised when she took him almost as easily as, well, what he’d been used to. Scotty was quite a bit larger, and they’d had a busy week.
Slowly, carefully…with a reverence he couldn’t ignore or deny, Mick buried his full length in Mercy’s heat. After a moment to savor the feeling, he leaned forward, framing her head with his forearms and kissing her deeply. He loved the feel of her breasts against his chest, her cool hands caressing his sides. He tried to make it last, to go slow, but every sigh and moan stoked his already intense need for her, his hunger for her body fueled by everything he felt for this beautiful and exciting woman in his arms, in his bed.
In our bed.
His arms began to shake and he wrapped one around her shoulders for leverage and fucked her hard and fast. Hips pumping, Mick strained for every bit of torque he could manage, needing the friction, the heat, the love flowing between them.
Mick didn’t realize Mercy had come until he felt the extra wetness against his stomach. For a fraction of a second he felt guilty for not paying more attention to how she was feeling, how it was for her. But his own orgasm soon obliterated the thought, along with everything else but the two of them.
It took far less time than usual for Mick’s head to clear. For a heartbeat he wondered if it was the same principle as taking a car out on the highway and burning away the built-up carbon—but no, it was because Mercy lay beneath him sobbing. She sobbed, loud and messy, and it broke Mick’s heart.
“Did I hurt you?” He would’ve pulled away, but she held him tightly with both arms, her legs wrapped around his rib cage so fiercely he had trouble drawing in a full breath.
She shook her head and tried to bury her face in the hollow of his shoulder.
“Hey, are you okay? Talk to me…Mercy, please…”
“I’ve never…it’s, oh my God, that position… I…” Mercy’s words dissolved into more sobs, not as wrenching as before but still painful.
“Mercy?” Scotty stood in the doorway for a moment and then came in. He rested a hand on Mick’s back as he stroked the hair from Mercy’s forehead. “If you wanted to fuck like a straight couple, you should’ve just said so.”
She nodded and tried to smile, but was still overcome by her emotions. Mick slid to the side even as Mercy tried to hold him fast. He eased onto the bed beside her and gave Scotty room to lie with them, comforting her as he quickly disposed of the condom. Slowly, Mercy’s shudders and sobs turned into sniffles. They curled around her, every light caress and gentle kiss lessening the tremors coursing through her body. The apartment filled with the spicy aroma of chicken, and still they cuddled, smoothing her jagged edges with the warmth of their love.
After a while, they cleaned up and ate dinner together, Mercy flanked closely by her two men. Tom got in on the comforting too, stretched across the back of the couch with one front paw resting on her shoulder, his back legs curling around her neck like a black furry scarf. A movie played on the television, a classic sci-fi Mick didn’t recognize. It kept the apartment from falling into complete silence while Mercy finished recovering.
During a commercial, she sat up straight and petted Tom over her shoulder. “Sorry about that.”
Mick and Scotty both said don’t be at the same time.
Mercy leaned her head back against Tom’s middle and smiled. It was a small, tired smile, but real. Mick let himself relax and let go of the fear that he’d really hurt her and she didn’t want to say so.
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so…I don’t know how to describe it…feminine?” She turned to Scotty and reached for Mick’s hand at the same time. “Don’t feel bad. Please? It’s not that I don’t like… I love the way you fuck me.”
“But that was making love. Not fucking.” Scotty didn’t sound upset, but his confusion was easy to hear. “Is that the difference?”
“No, baby. Well, sort of. But it’s not that simple. I know you love me, I do. It just took me by surprise, how it felt to do it like that. How it felt to do it with Mick.”
“But you’re okay? Because that kind of crying doesn’t sound very okay.”
“Yeah, baby, I’m okay. I promise.”
He smiled and kissed her softly on the cheek. “As long as you’re okay. As long as we’re okay.”
Scotty leaned forward and gave Mick a little smile, which he gratefully returned.
The rest of the movie played, then part of another. They cuddled on the couch, not saying much but not really watching the movies either. Mick thought about when he and Keith lived together—as kids and teenagers, and then as adults. More often than not, the television would be on, but without any sound. The stereo, whether the radio or turntable, filled the empty spaces when conversation stalled or when everyone was about to drop off to sleep. When Mick was new to Scotty’s little apartment, the constant talking on the television had unnerved him a little—he felt like he was being watched, or talked about just beyond his hearing. He realized—as he ran his hands over the two people he loved most in the world, as he kissed and caressed and comforted—nothing about the apartment felt foreign to him anymore. This was how he lived now, music downstairs and television upstairs, curling around his lovers all night and waking to cat hair in his coffee in the morning.
This is what it feels like to be home.