Jacques slid his hand up my thigh and squeezed, silently encouraging me. He asked, “Was it because you haven’t been comfortable with anyone else?”
“No. Sort of,” I admitted, a flush creeping up my throat and over my cheeks. “It’s because I’ve never wanted to have sex with anyone except you two. I’ve never even been attracted to anyone until now.” I shrugged, trying to play down the magnitude of the shift inside me.
“Are you asexual?” Travis asked. “I mean, it’s totally fine if you are. I feel even shittier about the way we spoke about you if you are—”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I’m still wrapping my head around it. I thought I was broken. For years I convinced myself that I was defective.”
“Hey, you know that’s not true, don’t you?” Jacques asked ducking down so he could try to meet my gaze. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“I know that now.” I lifted my face, and when my eyes met his, I sucked in a breath. Gone was the hesitation, and in its place was warmth and concern. Jacques was genuinely worried about me.
I touched Jacques’s hand, and he held still, letting me trace the veins that ran along it. I explained, “Just before I finished high school, I was listening to this podcast by an Australian guy. He said he hadn’t realized he was bisexual until he was in his twenties. His best friend had returned from active service, and Levi and his girlfriend both fell for him.”
Travis hummed, and I turned to see him pump his brows and grin at Jacques. “I acted on it junior year in college.” Travis sobered and added, “But I knew before.”
“I was fifteen, I think,” Jacques contributed. “I had this massive crush on my mom’s best friend, but then we moved, and I haven’t seen her since. A boy on my new team had the same wavy brown hair as her, and I jacked off to him every night for a week before I realized that I probably wasn’t as straight as I’d thought.” He smiled fondly and asked, “Do you want to figure out how you identify, or are you happy without a label?”
“I looked up the website the guy on the podcast talked about, and the closest thing I identified with was asexuality.”
“Okay,” Jacques responded, nodding slowly.
“But now I’m not so sure. I’ve never been repulsed by sex. I just wasn’t interested in doing it myself.” I sucked in a breath and willed my courage not to flee. “Until now.”
Travis gave up the pretense of casually leaning against me and wrapped his arm around me, holding me tight, and I continued, “Now I’m not sure that I’m asexual. Getting to know you both and feeling comfortable with you changed things. I think I might be demi? Maybe I need an emotional connection before I can experience attraction.”
“And you’re attracted to us?” Jacques asked.
“Very,” I breathed, my cheeks heating at my declaration.
He reached out and traced his thumb over my cheekbone. “This blush kills me. Every time.”
My cheeks heated even more, and Jacques’s responding groan was pained.
“What do you want to do with that attraction?” Travis asked, cutting straight to the point. His voice was a rough rasp. He tagged on “If anything,” as if it were an afterthought.
I straightened, not wanting them to doubt me. What I wanted was the one thing I was sure of. I admitted, “I want to fuck you both.”
Travis’s sharp inhale had my pulse spiking, desire flooding my veins.
“Can we start with a kiss?” Jacques asked.
“Please,” I begged.
He leaned in and pressed his lips to mine, soft and sweet. It was chaste and perfect, but I wanted more. I slid my hand high up Travis’s thigh and leaned into Jacques. I swiped my tongue over his bottom lip, and he opened, his tongue sneaking out to meet mine. I tasted him—cinnamon and something else—and groaned in ecstasy. He cupped my cheeks with both hands, holding me reverently, then slid his tongue inside my mouth. I was already addicted.
Jacques shifted forward to sit on the edge of the chair, and tangled our legs together. He used his height to his advantage, leaning over me, and I arched into his touch. His groan of approval sounded deep in his throat, and I gasped, feeling the vibration straight down my spine.
He was kissing me with his whole body, and we weren’t even touching for the most part. It was all consuming. My brain short circuited and need overrode any ability to hold back. I wanted more. I needed it. I was desperate for our bodies to press together, eliminating the space between us. I grasped his sweater and tried to tug him closer, but he stopped, slowing things down again.
Jacques kissed a line across my jaw to my ear. He nuzzled my throat, and the flick of his tongue against my lobe shot tingles straight to my dick. I was hard, achingly so. It was the first time someone’s touch had done that. The first time that I wanted to push past those natural limits that had constrained me in the past.
Travis kissed my nape and shifted so he could lick the column of my neck and suck a mark there. I moaned shamelessly.
“Touch me, please,” I begged.
Travis moved quickly, turning so he was side-on to me, one leg behind my back and the other hooked over my knees. With a finger under my chin, he drew my face to his and crashed his lips to mine.
Jacques moved like water, fluid and gentle, but Travis was like a wildfire roaring through me. He surged forward, pressing himself against me and tangled his fingers in my messy hair. He controlled the angle of our kiss, and his hands were everywhere, touching me with a desperation that mirrored my own.
