The real safety was here, in Ed's arms. In the future they had together. In the love they had for one another.
In the man he'd found within himself by loving Ed.
Ed's hand had strayed down his back and was now rubbing his hip, occasionally sliding down his cheek. Across the room, Christopher had taken on a mirrored position, and Oliver's hand was doing much the same to him. After a while Laurie noticed that if Ed stroked him a certain way, Oliver did much the same to his partner. A few beats later it would be Oliver instigating a move that Ed followed. Stroke across the hip. Up the arm. Cupping the backside. Sliding wickedly close to the groin. Laurie couldn't speak for Christopher, but there was plenty going on there for him.
They were playing a game. Oh, Ed and Oliver were still chatting idly, about his work, about the center, about football, which was the real tell, because if Oliver could name three positions on a team, Laurie would eat his tap shoes. But while they spoke, they stroked and taunted their partners, arousing them, arousing themselves, and ultimately each of them arousing the other.
Laurie wasn't exactly sure he was ready for this. He wasn't sure he would
ever
be ready for this. Though he had to admit it felt deliciously wicked to have Ed stroking him in front of Oliver, to have Oliver know exactly what that meant, to have Oliver actually egging him on. Oliver, who loved to tease him. Oliver, who never failed to help him, even when he didn't ask for it. Oliver, who wanted to see him not be so uptight and unhappy all the time.
He made eye contact with Christopher, whose lids were heavy, who was the very appearance of sated sensuality. They smiled quietly at one another. Christopher slid his hand up Oliver's thigh. Laurie, after only a little hesitation, did the same. Christopher nuzzled lightly against Oliver's chest. So did Laurie.
Christopher lifted his head and looked up at Oliver, who reached down and stroked his chin. Laurie copied Christopher, and Ed copied Oliver.
Laurie had known it was coming, and he didn't know who had led and who had followed, but the next thing he knew, Ed's mouth was coming down on his own.
Without checking to see what Christopher was doing, Laurie opened his mouth and accepted his lover's kiss.
Part of him was panicking. Part of him wanted to back out, and part of him wanted to thank Oliver and Christopher for a lovely evening and go home and finish this in private. But part of him didn't. Part of him was tired of always performing in the dark. Yes, this was a little different than dancing. Not much, though. Dancing for him was ten times more intimate and exposed than this, especially when he did so on his own. Especially now.
A quick glance across the room as Ed broke away from his mouth and worked his way down Laurie's neck confirmed that Christopher and Oliver had stopped and were watching them now. Watching Ed kiss and stroke him. Watching the show of the two young lovers making out in their living room. Laurie let his gaze linger on Oliver and saw, too, his old friend's silent urging for him to just let go. To stop worrying what other people might be thinking. To let himself enjoy and be enjoyed.
Well, perhaps he didn't read all that exactly. But it was what he thought. And it was what he did.
Laurie shut his eyes and turned back into Ed's arms, opening his mouth for another deep, drugging kiss, letting Ed taste the wine from his lips. He opened his body, letting Ed's hand stray down his chest, teasing open a few buttons. He let his lover's hand brush the fastenings of his trousers, teasing, not undoing, but not hesitating at all as he boldly cupped Laurie's hard and ready cock through the material.
Laurie opened his legs wider and tipped his hips farther into Ed's hand.
Ed never took him any further than a few buttons on his shirt and the unfastening of his fly. He pulled open the panel of his trousers, but he only stroked him through his briefs. His hand splayed against his chest, but only over top of the material. He only teased his nipple. But all the while he plundered Laurie's mouth, plunging deep, suckling his lips, and in general making all the love he would ultimately make to his whole body just to Laurie's mouth. And Laurie let him, aware with increasing distance that Oliver and Christopher were watching. The fever built inside him, inside them all. But it never crested, and so Laurie floated farther and farther away until he wasn't sure where he was, and he certainly didn't care what happened to him.
From very, very far away he heard Oliver say in a husky voice, “Let's take this out to the deck.”
Still half in a dream, Laurie let himself be righted, following Ed by the hand across the room and to the sliding doors, his clothes still only half done. The urge to panic fluttered up, but he was so relaxed, so emptied out and calm that the panic wouldn't stick. Yes, this was a little bit scary. But Ed was here. Right then, nothing else seemed to matter.
Oliver and Christopher had turned their deck into what was essentially another room; it had a roof and a carpeted floor and furniture nicer than many people would have in their living rooms. But all three walls were at least half screen, and in the farthest corner stood a large wood-framed hot tub. Lights hung above it, soft lanterns casting a yellow glow over the water. A gauzy curtain had been drawn back and clipped to the side, inviting them to the water. The air out here was cool but not cold. The water steamed, and the lights beneath the surface rippled with the waves, beckoning.
Nerves came on strong as everyone began to undress, implying Laurie should too. He looked at the tub again, which, while it had been big not long ago, suddenly looked so small. All of them? Naked? In there? “
I'm not talking about a foursome
,” Oliver had teased him. Except now the words felt like a lifeline. Because while maybe Laurie could hot tub naked when he was a little drunk, he was very sure he couldn't ever do menage, and certainly not with Oliver.
Ed's warm hand slid over his shoulder. “You okay, babe?” The hand massaged. “Want to go home?”
Yes. Yes, yes
. Except, also... “No.”
He undressed. He followed Ed into the water, trying not to see Oliver's half-naked body on the other side of the room, trying not to see Christopher, who was completely undressed. He did notice Ed, who looked wonderful. Beautiful. So strong, so...so Ed. He took in his cock, bobbing just above the surface of the water as he stood on the ledge, disappearing as he descended into the center. He ducked down, submerging his chest, and when he came up... Well. Oliver had been right. Ed, naked and wet and glistening underneath the light, was something to be enjoyed.
Then Ed smiled, still glorious and glistening, and held out his hand to Laurie. Laurie followed him in, sank gratefully into the water, and let Ed pull him up against his side.
Ed stroked him idly as they watched the other couple enter the tub, and because Laurie knew Oliver had ogled him, he ogled Oliver. He was fit for a man of his age, but not well-defined like Ed. Christopher looked almost frail naked, but he had an elegance about him that gave him a delicate beauty all his own. Because they were magnets for the eye, Laurie also took in their cocks. Both of them were cut. Oliver was stout and half-erect; Christopher was longer and thinner and looking like he didn't much care for the cold. He did, in fact, hurry into the water, but once Oliver had climbed in and settled against the side, Christopher slid over to his partner.
There was more talking, but it was once again just backdrop. Ed and Oliver were touching their respective partners once again, though this time the partners weren't trying to hide that they were being touched. Beneath the water, Ed had anchored Laurie's leg over his and was stroking his cock, but then, Laurie was also stroking him. There was something freeing about the water, something delicious and wicked about being completely naked with other men all around him. It made him think of the stories of bathhouses in the seventies, even though he did understand they actually weren't in there to take baths. Though to be honest, maybe there had been baths too. He didn't really know.
Maybe that was why, despite the vague sense of weirdness, Laurie was enjoying this. All these years, all this time, he had been so good. Even in New York, he hadn't gone wild. He'd had affairs, but even those had been fraught with difficulty. And the one time he'd tried to let go and be wild with Paul had ended in disaster.
But years of restricting himself even further had done nothing to make him happy.
Was he happy right now, he wondered? Was he happy as Ed slid him onto his lap and let his erection slide beneath Laurie's ass to tickle his balls? Was he happy as he watched Oliver's strong arms maneuvering Christopher astride him, Christopher's jerks and gasps making Laurie's own blood hum at the sight? Was he happy as Ed began to stroke him, palming his cock?
Happy doesn't matter
, his libido insisted, trying to crowd out thought. But Laurie fought back. There was something important here, and he was determined to grasp it, to understand it. His life had come so unglued in so many ways since he'd met Ed. He thought of Maggie's accusation that this was “all because of Ed.” And yet, hadn't he been the one to volunteer at the center? Hadn't he finally said yes to Vicky because he was so tired of his life that almost anything new was worth grasping? Hadn't he gone to that first class nervous and terrified and yet desperate, so desperate to make something, anything work, to find even just a shred of happiness and meaning somewhere, anywhere...
Dancing with Ed, moving in with him, giving up the studio to essentially volunteer at the center—it was Toronto all over again, wasn't it? All of it. The thought terrified Laurie, made him feel he was destined for another fall, for nothing but falls. But then he thought of how lonely he had been before and after Toronto, of how empty he felt when he wasn't leaping into the abyss.
Were those his choices, then? Hollow and empty or fleeting freedom before he crashed and burned?
He trembled, and Ed nuzzled against his neck, hands stilling below. “Do you want to go?”
Emotion rose up like a wave, feelings too primal and complicated to name, and Laurie had to shut his eyes. He was aware of Ed's arms around him, aware of Ed's warmth, his strength, and his love. And it hit him, swamped him even as it lifted him up, that this was the difference. Ed. Ed was the difference. Yes, his choices were to withhold himself or try to fly. Yes, it was wither or burn.
Except when he was carried. Except when Ed was there to hold him, to encourage him—and to catch him. Except when Ed was there to gather the broken pieces and encourage him to put himself together again. It was still Laurie's work to do, Laurie's leap. He would have to do it with or without Ed.
There in the dark, naked in Oliver's hot tub, trembling and wrapped in Ed's loving arms, Laurie vowed silently to work as hard as he could for as long as he could to make sure that he leaped with Ed from this day forward.
“Laurie?” Ed called again.
Laurie turned his head and kissed him. He kissed him long and hard and deep. When Ed groaned, he thrust into his hand, but he kept kissing him, kissing him with all the gratitude and love and desperation and determination he had inside him, mixing it all up at once, hurling it at Ed. Ed gripped him, aroused, eager, fueling him back with his own tidal wave of emotions, and then Laurie was climbing on him, and they were thrusting, hot and hard and slick in the water, trying to climb inside one another, trying—
Laurie came without warning, with a jerk and a cry, and Ed came shortly after.
And then, because of physics, so did their semen.
It came to the surface in a delay, appearing in little white blobs that merged together and then separated on the surface. As the foam hit it, it merged again, breaking up further, and now it was carried away on the bubbles. Though when it hit Laurie's chest, he could see the globs of cum were still in some ways quite intact. Glancing at Ed, who was still breathing hard, he saw flecks and globs of white tangling in the hair of his chest.
“Oh shit,” Laurie whispered. The foam kept coming. God, it was a huge, huge mess. And it was in Oliver's hot tub.
At this point, the way the foam was rolling, it was probably on Oliver. Laurie winced, blushing as he settled back down beside Ed. “Sorry,” he said.
“Doesn't bother me.” Ed kissed him. “I told you. I like your mess.”
Christopher, however, looked weary. “It's so hard to clean,” he murmured, but Oliver grabbed his chin and kissed him deep.
“But since we're already going to have to clean it,” he said and left the rest of the thought unfinished, at least with words.
It took Oliver and Christopher a little longer to get off than it had Ed and Laurie. They watched the older men shift and tangle, grabbing, thrusting, seeking better positions. In the end, Laurie was pretty sure Oliver was fucking Christopher underneath the water or something very close. He watched Christopher's back muscles undulate as he rose and fell. All the while, Ed's arms were around Laurie, sliding over his skin as they watched.
When Christopher came, when he rose up almost literally, then came down again, shuddering in Oliver's arms, when Oliver did the same, seizing and bucking and then sagging against the back of the tub—as he watched them clutching tight to one another, Laurie thought again of flight and fall, of hiding from life and letting it burn, of how different it was with someone to catch you. And as yet more semen-fuzzed bubbles swirled around him, Laurie settled into the mess and into Ed's sheltering arms.
They'd been rehearsing the dance for three months.
Despite Ed's insistence that it wasn't necessary, Laurie had come with him to several therapy sessions and grilled Tim extensively on what moves were acceptable and what moves were out of bounds as far as Ed's neck was concerned. Ed had grumbled at first, but as he listened to the two of them fire questions back and forth, as they moved his body around like a puppet and discussed physiology and weight and pressure points—well, in some ways he understood more about his injury than he ever had before. He understood, finally, why he could be in so much pain and yet still function up until a certain point, why he could carry anything but lift nothing when his injury was too live. He understood some of the oddball pains in his arm too, and why so many of Tim's exercises had been about upper back strengthening.