"Just for this moment
as long as you're mine
I've lost all resistance
and crossed some borderline
and if it turns out
it's over too fast
I'll make ev'ry last moment last"
--Wicked
Tony-Racetrack
Michael-Mush
Alex-Blink
Sean-Spot
They were worried about him, Tony knew. It was apparent in almost everything they'd been doing for the past few hours, the careful way they were treating him. Like he would explode if they did the least thing wrong, or maybe collapse in tears. Which was ridiculous, of course, because he was a cop and cops were desensitized to this kind of shit and didn't they know that by now?
There was supposed to be a ritual to this. First, he has a shitty dayâat work, at home, whateverâand he comes knocking on their apartment door. Then, one of them answersâusually Michael because he's always glad to get away from grading middle schoolers' attempts at essays on whatever novel they're reading that quarter. He shows up at the door, still wearing slacks and a tie because he never remembers to take it off unless Alex gets after him about it, and smiles widely when he sees Tony. Of course, he can always tell why Tony's there, but he still smiles and pulls Tony in by the sleeve like nothing's wrong. It's their job to cheer him up, so he says, "Alex, look who showed up on our doorstep!" and Alex looks up from his palm pilot and laptop and says, "We don't have a doorstep, Mike." They always say that and it never gets old. Then Alex usually clicks a few things on the palm pilot, saves a few things on the laptop, and stands with a loud exhalation. "I was getting sick of watching stocks anyway," he says, "so let's grab some beers and watch a game." And because they're the greatest friends he's had since Vince in high schoolâeven better than Jack, and they're partnersâthey get him so drunk he can't remember his name, put him up on their couch, and spoon-feed him aspirin in the morning.
That's how it was supposed to go, but Michael and Alex weren't cooperating this time.
It was kind of pissing him off.
He slouched into the easy chair and took another sip of his lemonade. Fucking lemonade. Here he was, at the end of possibly one of the worst weeks of his career, not to mention possibly the end of his relationship, and instead of filling him to the eyes with alcohol, they were pussy-footing around with lemonade. And to top it all off, there wasn't even a good game on TV. They were stuck listening to some jackass speak quietly and in awe-stricken tones about pars and putters, while more jackasses golf-clapped in the background.
Tony ignored the looks Alex and Michael were exchanging. It didn't take eight years of training in distinguishing traits of human behavior and work on the streets to be able to pick up on the not-so-subtle signs they were giving him. Lemonade, golf, taking seats on either side of him and hovering. Yeah, yeah, yeah, so they wanted him to talk. Well, too bad. What he really needed was a shower. Well, alcohol was first, but a shower would be good. Maybe if he cooled down and let the water relax his muscles, he'd be able to face life without wanting to snarl at everything.
"Do you guys mind if I grab a shower?" he said abruptly, mind made up. He stood, putting his glass on the end table. On a coaster of course, so Alex wouldn't beat him.
Michael and Alex exchanged another meaningful look before Michael nodded. "Of course. Towels are in the closet by the bathroom. You know where everything else is."
Tony nodded mutely and stalked down the short hallway. It was full of framed, loving, couple-y pictures that he ignored pointedly because if he looked at them too long he just might prove his friends right by getting a little...emotional. He grabbed the first towel his hand fell onâa large, disgustingly fluffy, yellow thingâand fled to the relative safety of the bathroom. There were no personal photos there.
Taking showers, though, always had the unfortunate effect of confining him to a small space where he had no choice but to think about all the crap he ignored during the other parts of the day. It was like all that trying to get clean just stirred up the dirt and grime that his mind couldn't get rid of.
As he stepped into the shower cubicle, tiles radiating coldly against his bare skin, his thoughts turned to what was going on with him and Sean. His mind ran over the little mental checklist he'd developed for this process in the past couple days, as their fight had escalated. We're good together, right? Yes. Squeeze a blob of green-colored shampoo into his palm. You love him, right? Absolutely. Soak his head under the spray until his hair is wet and plastered to his forehead. He loves you, too, doesn't he? Well, yeah. Begin lathering the shampoo into his hair. So far so good; he'd answered the niggling little voice in his head and it seemed satisfied. But then, the tricky part always came next.
Why doesn't he understand then? Why does he insist you do something you'd rather not do?
Tony's fingers slowed against his scalp and he could feel the suds begin to trickle down his neck and into his face. He shut his eyes tight against the soap and the treacherous thoughts. He knew why. Sean seemed to take his refusal to acknowledge that he was gay to his parents as some kind of weird closeted thing, like he wasn't out to everyone else who he interacted with. He thought that Tony was ashamed, maybe, ashamed to be with him, but it had nothing to do with that.
Then why are you afraid?
Tony turned his face into the hot spray from the shower head, washing the stinging soap out of his eyes. He wasn't afraid. He was just being careful, trying to protect...
Protect from what? From you?
"No," he whispered, feeling water slide past his lips. No, that was long in the past and he had matured beyond it. He was a protector now and there was nothing to shield Sean from.
Listlessly, he reached for the bar of soap and forced his mind from that fruitless train of thought. But that only led to other, even more unpleasant, thoughts that had lurked lately in his nightmares. The image of a throatless body blossomed before his eyes and he gasped, the sharp, clean smell of soap not able to dispel the remembered odor of death. He leaned his forehead against the steam-slick tiles, his nostrils flaring, and let the hot water pound against his back.
Quick after the picture of the body came the picture of a young boy with a large smile that contorted into a grimace of fear and pain. Then the live news footage of police making a huge bust on the Nixon Farms migrant worker community, arresting many of the workers pending investigation of murder and deportation back to their home countries. He hadn't done so good a job of defending there. Hell, he hadn't even stuck around long enough to question anybody before having to find an empty corner and heave up that morning's Egg McMuffin.
The soap spurted from between his fingers as he clenched it in his fist. "Get a grip," he firmly told himself, but the nightmare from the nights before made it harder to do. He didn't realize the water had gone lukewarm until a hesitant knock startled him from his stupor.
"Tony?" Michael asked, poking his head into the bathroom. "You've been in here an awfully long time. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Tony answered immediately. He heard the door snick shut and pressed his forehead to the wall again. Then the door to the shower slid open and Tony swung around, eyes opening wide.
Michael stood in a growing puddle of water as the shower stood open and water sprayed everywhere. His fingers tapped compulsively against his thighs and his jaw was tightened sternly. Tony noted absently that he'd changed at some point into a worn blue robe that ended just above his knees. "You're not fine," Michael said decisively, eyes lingering on the shampoo that still dribbled into Tony's eyes.
"I'm fine," he repeated stubbornly. Soap made his eyes sting, so he grimaced and flushed them with cooling water. Before he knew it, Michael had apparently shed his robe and sidled into the shower with him, because bare arms were sliding around his waist. Tony froze, his heart stumbling over a few beats.
"You're not," Michael murmured against the line of Tony's shoulder.
"Michael?" he squeaked, voice shooting up an octave. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Washing your hair," Michael said, but Tony didn't recall that it was normal for friends to climb into showers together. Naked. He swallowed hard at the feeling of Michael's body pressed up behind his, too close to pretend that there was anything but skin and water between them. And he certainly didn't think that the sensation of lips ghosting over his throat had anything to do with cleanliness. His mind began to wander downwards, following the immediate rush of blood to his dick, but enough common sense lingered to string a sentence together.
"What about Alex?"
Michael laughed softly, pressing a kiss with a hint of teeth into Tony's shoulder. "He's getting us towels." One of Michael's hands left Tony's waist and lifted to his hair, lifting and tugging the strands to get the shampoo out. Tony wavered, torn between the inevitability of the moment, and fear of disturbing years of status quo.
He couldn't deny interest without seriously lying to himself. Years of accumulated, guilty dreams and swift sideways glances were making themselves knownâinsistentlyâin very inconvenient manner. Michael's wandering hands weren't helping him make mature decisions in any way.
"Iâ" he said, then told himself to hell with it, and surrendered to the moment. Closing his eyes, he turned in Michael's arms, savoring the slide of their bodies against each other, and blindly pressed their mouths together. Michael made an approving noise and nipped at his lips playfully.
A cool draft from the door opening alerted Tony to Alex's presence before anything else. "Starting without me?" his amused voice said next.
Tony pried his lips from Michael'sâa more difficult thing to do than even his most secret fantasies would have predicted-- and turned slightly to look at Alex. It took him a moment to process because he had never before seen his friend in nothing but a towel. Their friendship had always been more about drinking and talking and sports; it had never encompassed things that would involve near nudity, like swimming.
Or showering together, he reminded himself wryly. Or sex.
Alex made the ridiculous yellow towel look good, in a throat-drying, toe-clenching sort of way. Yellow wasn't really a good color on him, making his skin look pasty and his blonde hair paler, but the way the towel draped around his hips, showing off the jut of hipbones and the swell of muscle below his navel, made Tony forget any reason why this shouldn't be something he deeply wanted.
"Alex," he said, rustily, like he was just learning the meanings of words again, and held out his hand. Alex smiled and loosened the towel and came to them.
They crowded him between them, Michael against his back and Alex pressed along his front. Both of their cocks, hot and half-hard, pushed against him, and Tony wondered giddily how he'd ever thought just a single partner was adequate. His own cock was filling surprisingly rapidly for the little touching they'd actually been doing. He could feel it lifting and nudging alongside Alex's and he sighed. Maybe if he just pushed a little...
Michael pulled his hips back and stilled them with large, heavy hands. "Not yet," he admonished and nipped Tony's earlobe sharply. Tony shivered.
"Yeah. Right." he said peevishly. "Easier saidâ" than done, he meant to say, but Alex silenced him with a tongue in his mouth. Not that he was complaining.
Alex's tongue had a different feel and texture than he was used to with Sean...he quickly stopped that thought before it could lead to more of its kind. Instead, he concentrated fiercely on the way their mouths moved together, slick and easy, the way Alex's tongue pulsed against his and tickled the roof of his mouth. Michael moved restlessly behind him, running lips and tongue along Tony's throat. He insinuated a hand between them and Tony felt Alex jump, then felt the rumble of a moan against his lips.
Tony attempted to look down without having to stop kissing, but found it was impossible to do, especially when Alex pouted and made small noises of protest at the loss. He pressed a quick, sloppy kiss to the corner of Alex's bowed lips, then snuck a peek at what was going on below the waist.
The sight of the dusky skin of Michael's hand against his fairer torso, and running teasing fingers along pale stretch of skin along Alex's belly and down to his cock, made Tony's stomach do a slow flip before tightening up. The gentle progression of skin colors was possibly one of the fucking hottest things he'd ever seen, not to mention the sight of his friends getting each other off. Maybe it shouldn't have been hot, and most likely he shouldn't be here, letting the water run cold over them as they...whatever all this was leading up to, but he couldn't help the shivers that ran down his body or the way a groan of pleasure wrenched its way out of his throat.
"Oh, God," he gasped.
Both Alex and Michael laughed at that and, if possible, squeezed him closer between them, two pairs of arms coming up and around his sides. He felt dwarfed by his two taller friends, but good in a warm, safe way. Tony squirmed, torn between the two pleasures. "Can we get the show on the road?" he said, even as he attempted to grind backwards.
Michael whimpered and returned the motion for a moment, rubbing himself against Tony's ass. "We could do that, couldn't we, Alex?" he panted.
Alex didn't answer in words, instead leaning around to kiss his long-time lover. Their mouths met in a familiar clash of lips and teeth. Tony hungrily watched the movement of their jaws, the flash of tongues as they shifted positions, the way Alex's blind eye drifted shut but his good eye remained open. No matter how erotic he found it, though, his dick was impatiently trying to get someone to pay attention to it. He bit down on Alex's collarbone and insinuated a hand behind himself to give Michael's cock a sharp squeeze.
This got their attention quickly, but in ways he hadn't anticipated. Alex reared back with a hiss and narrowed his eyes. Tony swallowed hard at the gleam in his eyes and the anticipatory way his lips curled. "Is that the way we're playing?" Alex asked huskily, though Tony didn't think he was looking for an answer and didn't think he could force words out anyway.
"Looks like," Michael said in his place. His cock moved, slippery, in Race's palm for another stroke. Then he pulled away and Alex did the same in front of him.
Things then happened too fast for him to follow. All he knew was that for one moment he was shivering alone in the chilled water, and the next Alex was on his knees and Tony's cock was deep in his throat.
Tony bit back a strangled scream.
"Jesus!" he said sharply, knees wobbling. One of Michael's arms came swiftly around his waist to steady him. With his free hand he must have reached back to turn off the water because suddenly it was no longer running in his eyes and plastering Alex's hair to his face, as he sucked enthusiastically. In the sudden silence that descended, his harsh breathing and the moist sound of Alex's mouth on his cock seemed suddenly loud.
Michael's hand around his waist dropped to stroke the hair away from Alex's face, then curved back to caress Tony's right thigh. Tony found it hard to concentrate on what the fingers were doing when all he could feel was a warm, wet mouth, and a hint of teeth, and suction...
A tweak to his nipple forced his attention away from his dick. And then he was off balance again as Michael lifted the leg he had been caressing and urged Tony to hook it over Alex's shoulder. Alex released Tony's cock with a noisy slurp and all three adjusted to the new distribution of weight.
"Whatâ?" Tony said breathlessly. He cleared his throat. "What's going on?"
His answer was the audible click of a bottle top snapping open followed by the cold sensation of liquid-covered fingers being run down the cleft of his ass.
"Ohhhh," he moaned, mind fogging over with lust. It took a huge effort to clear his brain of images of being fucked, of being bent over by either of his attractive friends. He shook his head violently until droplets of water went flying and dark strands of hair fell into his eyes. "You keep lube in your shower?" he said a little more coherently. It made him wonder why he hadn't thought of that years ago.
"Makes it easier, doesn't it?" Michael said while continuing to stroke and tease with his fingers. The small hum of pleasure that came from him next had Tony wildly picturing the sight of Michael stroking his own cock, hand slick with water and slippery lube, preparing and pleasuring himself. He suddenly realized that he hadn't really had a chance to see Michael naked yet and he fiercely wanted to, but Alex was already looking up at him hungrily again, his swollen lips parted lewdly.
Michael finished what he was doing and guided Tony's hips until he was leaning over slightly, legs parted and weight held up partially by Alex and partially by Tony's own white-knuckled grip on the shower's soap holder. Tony's head drooped between his shoulders and he looked straight down into Alex's face as Alex took the head of Tony's cock into his mouth again. He sucked hard on it and Tony's breathing became labored.
Taking this distraction as his opportunity, Michael began to finger him. Blunt, thick fingers entered him and scissored until Tony's hips began to thrust helplessly between them and Alex's mouth. Small noises that he was helpless to stop seemed to be wrung continuously from his lips until his ears rang with them.
"Now, Tony?" Michael breathed into his ear.
Unable to articulate, Tony simply nodded his head fervantly. Alex hummed approval around his cock, which made Tony feel like his bones were going to melt.
Slowly, Michael began to push into him, panting into Tony's ear with the restraint he was showing. Tony attempt to relax his body, opening to the welcome intrusion. It burned, but in a way that he was able to deal with and move past to get pleasure from. Alex backed off slightly, accomodating for the shallow thrusts Michael was beginning to make. Instead, he began to lick up and down the shaft of Tony's cock, swirling his skillful tongue around the head. Tony's skin prickled with each slam of Michael's cock into his body, each teasing, languid lick at his balls. His blood felt molten, burning in his veins and centering in his stomach, in the skin of his cock.
Michael's cries began to become more loud as his thrusts became more erratic. They mingled with the desperate whimpers Tony was making, and the shower echoed with them. "Alex," he sobbed against Tony's shoulder. "Tony. Tony." His fingers dug into Tony's hips, but he barely noticed.
Gently, as if he had all the time in the world, Alex slid Tony's cock fully into his mouth again, bearing the force of Tony's thrusts. He stroked the trembling thigh that was hooked over his shoulder. Then, when Tony had calmed a little, he hollowed his cheeks and sucked until Tony saw black specks in his peripheral vision and he was pulsing into Alex's throat. He was dimly aware of Michael's own cry, as his hips pistoned into Tony, and warmth as he released.
They slumped to the bottom of the shower, in a tangle of damp, sticky limbs. Chest heaving, Tony looked at Alex and saw him licking his lips experimentally. His gaze wandered lower, to Alex's still erect cock. It was flushed red and Tony's hands itched to touch it. He gave into the urge, letting his hand creep out and give it a playful tug.
Alex gasped. "Careful with that," he said, voice cracking.
"Oh, I intend to be," Tony said. Michael chuckled against his side, curled up in the small space, and Tony had an even better idea.
"C'mere," he said. He tugged Alex closer until he was the one in the middle. There had been enough room for standing in the shower, but this was pushing them closely together.
It was perfect.
He met Michael's eyes and they both grinned, then laced their fingers together. Michael guided Tony's hand onto Alex's cock, curling around it and caressing it in the way that Michael knew he liked best. Between the two of them, they urged Alex along to climax, as he writhed and moaned. He finally shuddered and came, slumping against them.
Tony knew they'd have to get out and face what had happened soon, but for the moment he was content to sprawl in a too-small bathtub with his two best friends. Alex's hand came up and ran through his hair, as if he knew what Tony was thinking.
"There's plenty of time tomorrow for that," he said, confirming Tony's suspicion. "Tonight there's just the three of us."
Dedicated to B.
With Me Tonight by Shimmerwings