I stand, and Blake kneels on the floor at my feet. “The other trousers were too baggy and too long,” he tells me. “All the fabric pooled here…” He touches my heels. “Which is really unflattering. These trousers have a slim, tailored fit and are tapered slightly from the knee, giving a much nicer overall look.”
“You sound like a fashion expert.”
He laughs. “I’m not. I just like clothes. And I model, remember? I’ve learnt a lot about how clothes are supposed to fit to look the best.” He stands. “But what really matters is how you feel in the clothes you wear. If you don’t feel confident, you won’t look your best, no matter how well they fit.” He stands behind me and turns me towards the mirror again. “For what it’s worth, I think you look amazing, Daddy.”
“That’s worth a lot, baby boy.” I mean it, even though I still can’t see what he does.
There’s a whistle from behind us.
“Hot damn, you two look gorgeous,” Cal says.
So does he. He’s wearing black fitted trousers and a black lace shirt with a floral pattern that shows off his heavily muscled body.
“We are going to be the three hottest guys on the dance floor tonight,” he says, cha-chaing into the room. He puts a hand on each of our hips and kisses me, then Blake. “Are you ready to dance the night away,mon paramours?”
“I am,” Blake says enthusiastically.
I hesitate. It’s the first time we’ve been out together as a thruple, other than to Hamish’s parties, but they don’t count. His parties are always a safe environment, with no shaming of any kind. Night clubs are a totally different environment. Will anyone notice or care that we’re a thruple? Plus, I’m sure guys are going to flirt with Cal and Blake, which will either leave me feeling jealous or left out, possibly both.
“Sure,” I say because I’m not going to put a downer on the night, even if I do have reservations.
It’s a short walk from my maisonette to the tube station. Even though it’s cool out, we’ve opted to leave our coats at home. Cloakroom fees in nightclubs are ridiculous at best. Besides, by the time we’re leaving, we’ll probably be hot and sticky from dancing and grateful of feeling some cool air against our skin.
We head to one of Cal’s favourite gay bars and join the long queue to get in. Music blares out the open door, currently seventies’ disco music. It’s packed when we get inside. The walls are either painted dark grey or have white brick-shaped tiles over them. The bar tops are wood, but the fronts have been painted white, with fluorescent pink lights. Coloured lights sweep over the dance floor, illuminating the crowd that are either dancing or standing and watching the drag queen on the stage. She’s the one belting out the seventies’ tunes as she struts her stuff in ten-inch heels. There are a couple of seating areas, but it’s clear the focus is on dancing, not sitting and chatting.
“Drinks?” Cal shouts about the music. He mimes raising a cup to his lips at the same time.
Blake and I both nod, but neither of us tries to make our requests heard over the music. We go to the bar, Blake and I standing a little way from it so it’s clear we’re not trying to get served. Our drinks are poured into plastic glasses. Cal’s got us all the same thing. From the pale green colour and slight fizz to the liquid, I’d guess it’s lime and soda. A sip tells me there’s vodka in there too.
We stay at the edge of the dance floor for a while, listening to the music and watching the show while we sip our drinks. The first thing I notice is that probably eighty per cent of the people in here are men, and the vast majority is white. There are a few people dressed up, like Blake, but several more who are a lot more casually dressed, even more so than I am. The drag queen looks stunning, with her huge purple hair and short, gold, sequin dress. Her voice is amazing too as she sings track after track for everyone to dance to.
“Time to dance,” Cal says, relieving us of our empty plastic cups. “We’re not standing on the sidelines all night.”
He deposits the cups on the bar, grabs our hands, and drags us into the throng of people. Within seconds, Cal is moving his body to the music, and fuck, does he look sexy. He knows exactly how to move to get my blood pumping. Confidence literally pours off him in waves. Blake starts to dance too, and he’s equally beautiful to watch. His willowy body moves like liquid, and he closes his eyes, clearly losing himself in the loud music.
“Dance,” Cal says.
I move considerably more awkwardly than either of them, swaying my hips from side to side and making occasional arm movements. I feel clumsy and jerky beside them and probably look it too. It’s weird. When we’re alone, I’ve stopped thinking about the way I look because I know they adore me the way I am. But out here, with strangers all around, I’m more self-conscious than ever.
A guy moves in behind Blake and puts his hands on our boy’s hips. Before either Cal or I can do anything, Blake’s eyes pop open, and he turns, shaking his finger in the guy’s face. The guy pouts but moves on. Blake rotates to face us and moves closer, reaching a hand out to graze one of our arms each. Cal reaches under Blake’s sheer top and hooks his fingers around the Pride harness, tugging Blake even closer to us. Cal leans in to kiss our boy, and I watch, turned on by how dirty the kiss is despite being in the middle of a throng of people. The second the kiss ends, Cal claims my lips and kisses me just as hard. If there’s anything that’s going to help me relax, it’s plenty more kisses likethat.
I put one hand on Blake’s waist and the other on Cal’s and use the motion of their bodies to help me find my own rhythm. Before long, the music is flowing through me, and my inhibitions, while not gone completely, are certainly at a lower volume. I’m with my men; nothing else matters.
We move closer as we dance until Cal and I are facing each other, with Blake in the middle. We grind against each other, not hiding the fact that we’re here together and that we’re very, very into each other. We get a few looks, some lusty ones and a small number of sneering ones. At one point, a white guy with muscles as big as Cal’s tries to dance with him, grinding against his arse, even though Cal is clearly dancing with us. Annoyance settles inside me. I’m not worried about another guy dancing with CalorBlake. I know we’re happy together, but it bothers me that this man is trying to hit on someone who’s not available.
The man wraps his hands around Cal and starts stroking his chest through his shirt. Cal shakes his shoulders and pushes back, an obvious move to rid himself of the guy, who leans in and says something into Cal’s ear. At the same time, he moves his hand down Cal’s body and grasps his cock through his trousers. Cal knocks the guy’s hand away. Whether it’s in protest or an attempt to mollify Cal, the man says something else to him. I wish I could hear his words, but they don’t cross the short distance between us. He goes to kiss Cal’s neck, but our lover rolls his body, evading the gesture.
I’ve had enough. I step closer, click my fingers in front of the guy’s face to get his attention, and then jerk my thumb.
“Fuck off,” I say, hopefully loud enough for my voice to conquer the music. “He’s ours.”
The guy narrows his eyes. “He can decide that for himself, can’t you, darling?” He runs his hands over Cal’s chest again.
Cal rolls his eyes at Blake and me and then turns his head to say something into the man’s ear. The guy scowls, looks Blake and me up and down, and then wanders away.
“What was that about?” I shout.
Cal leans around Blake and kisses my jaw. “Apparently, he had a bet that he could sleep with a black guy tonight.”
