Three of a Kind

Randy grinned. “Eh. I’m not stud like Butch. Or a hottie like you.” Randy tilted his head. “I’m…a ’tweener.”

“A ’tweener?” He let his eyes drag over the sandy brown hair, the lean muscles, the bright eyes. “You’re fine.”

Randy beamed and grinned. “A ’tweener—not a stud, not a hottie, something in between. Fine. I like that. Like a wine or piece of art. Fine.”

He nodded, serious, admiring. “Yeah. Real fine.”

Randy tugged his chair over closer and gave him a kiss. “Wanna play with fine?”

“Uh-huh.” He slid his hands around Randy’s waist.

Randy shifted, moving to straddle him in his chair. “Okay?” Randy asked, eyes warm, wanton.

He nodded, grinned. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Cool.”

Randy’s mouth closed over his, hot and eager, hands moving along his shoulders and down his front. He groaned, sliding his hands up along Randy’s ribs, and opening his mouth wide. How many times could they all come in a day?

Butch’s chuckle came from behind him, a kiss landing on the top of his head, hands on his shoulders. “Randy, are you ever not horny?”

“Lots of times,” Randy murmured against Zane’s mouth.

“Like from birth to age twelve?”

“Ten. I was precocious.”

Zane chuckled, pinched Randy’s butt. “Your balls wouldn’t have dropped yet.”

Randy squeaked and wriggled. “I said I was precocious.”

against him. Zane moaned, nuzzling into them, breathing deep. Oh. Oh, they smelled so good.

Butch slid over to the side and they cuddled him between them, all of them sharing warm kisses.

“Thank you. So good. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank us every time, Zane. We’re enjoying ourselves too.”

Randy nodded at Butch’s words. “Yeah.”

“Sorry.” He blushed. “I’m new at this.”

Randy giggled and kissed him. “And you don’t have to say you’re sorry, either. It’s not wrong to say thank you. Can you do something wrong making love, Butch?”

“You can not enjoy yourself, I guess. That seems fucking wrong.” Butch’s eyes twinkled. “Get it? Fucking? Wrong?”

Zane laughed, took another kiss and another. “Then I’m good.”

Randy beamed at him. “You are!”

Zane started chuckling, tickled and melty and happy.

Butch’s stomach growled and that made Randy giggle. “You’re always hungry!”

Butch tapped Randy on the nose. “Unlike you, who never are.”

“I got fixings for biscuits and sausage and gravy.” Zane liked cooking, and the more he did, the better he was at it.

“Oh, that sounds good!” Randy kissed him and bounced up. “I’m going to get fat if you keep cooking.”

Butch chuckled, hand sliding on Randy’s belly. “Oh, yeah, that’s going to happen.”

“We all work hard.” Zane grinned, searching for his jeans.

the time, but he’s being funny when he says that.”

“He’s very proud of you. Says you sell your work in a gallery?”

“Yeah. Some guy showed up a couple years ago and wanted to buy it. Can you believe that? It makes me laugh sometimes, thinking of my sculptures in people’s living rooms.”

“That’s cool.” He shut the truck hood before following Randy back across the yard.

Randy grinned as he opened the door. “I’m working on the pieces of you. You know, from when I sketched you?”

“Yeah. Me? Really?” Weird and cool all at once.

Randy nodded and pulled him into the room, turning on the lights.

There were pieces everywhere and stuff stacked in shelves against the walls. None of the pieces looked like him. None of them really even looked like people. Or faces.

There were lots of things, though, that might have been curls, curly and springy, and green marbles and glass and paint in twos that must have been eyes. One that was a square-ish piece of metal shaped like a cowboy hat.

“Wow. Wow, this is too cool.” He looked around, fascinated.

Two of the walls were lined with shelves with all sorts of clutter on them. Zane couldn’t have pointed out what order existed there, but he would bet Randy knew where everything was and had a reason for why the lengths of metal pipes were sitting next to a basket full of broken plates.