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Lambert slid through the back door and shut it quickly before a wayward moth could follow him inside. The TV was playing some gameshow and, sure enough, Aiden was curled up on the couch with Coёn at his side. After their initial issues of living together had been sorted - some months after their living arrangement began - it had been determined that the TV was Aiden’s domain on Tuesdays. What was unusual was a bottle of scotch on the table between them. It was odd but not completely without precedent. Aiden sometimes ignored the instructions on his medicine but Coёn never allowed it.
“Hey, you two. Started the party without me, huh?” He rounded the couch and leaned down for a kiss from Coёn. The scotch on his lips burned Lambert’s lips and he chased after the feeling much as Coën chased his lips each time he tried to break away. Pulling back, he smiled at the dazed look in his lover’s eyes.
“What? No kiss for me?” Aiden joked, jutting his chin up. Usually such things were brushed away, the ribbing of good friends and nothing more. Coёn tipped his head to the side, as if looking for something in Lambert’s eyes. He then nodded, only once and slowly. Do it . The movement screams. Do it.
They’re both drunk and he’s painfully sober and if this turned out to be a mistake it was all his. They were a third through his good bottle of celebration scotch and it showed in the lazy turn of their heads and smiles. There was no going back from this; there was no alcohol to blame in his blood. It could ruin everything. But if he reached for the bottle the moment would pass and it would be gone forever. Lambert placed one hand on the back of the couch to hold himself steady and with the other he cupped Aiden’s jaw, intensely aware of Coёn’s eyes on him as he leaned down to kiss a man who wasn’t his husband.
“Of course, I couldn’t forget about you.” Kissing Aiden felt a long time coming, not like coming home but like breaking through the surface after diving too deep. The scotch on Aiden’s lips was accompanied by the sweet hint of chocolate and he pulled away with the heavy knowledge that he’d gone too far to go back. Aiden seemed more dazed than he was and Lambert took the opportunity to glance at Coёn.
He wasn’t prepared for the heat found in his eyes.
Deflect. Say something.
“So you’re both drinking my good shit while I’m out working?” The other men had glasses but the kitchen was far away and the bottle was right there. He drank from it deeply.
“You were ‘working’ on your car. That’s hobby work.” Aiden said, tucking his feet up beneath himself carefully.
“Complete recreation.” Coёn agreed.
“Well,” Lambert sat between the men and twisted the bottle in his hands “what are we celebrating?”
“Aiden was cleared by the doctors today.” Coёn took a sip from his glass. “He can start training again next week.” He’s going to leave. You just kissed him and he’s going to leave but maybe it’s for the best. Coёn continued. “We’ll need to buy a few more mats for the training room, if you two can share that is.” He’s staying. They talked about this. Oh gods what are you doing?
“I’m very good at sharing.” Aiden drawled, suddenly close. Lambert shuddered and leaned his head back. There wasn’t enough liquor in the house for him to survive this evening. Luckily for him the other men were drawn back into the show on TV, arguing with the contestants who couldn’t hear them and kept fumbling the questions on screen. It gave Lambert enough time to drink until the thinking was less difficult. Until the press of lips on his cheek from the right didn’t startle him until he was also kissed from the left.
“Wha'?”
“As I said,” Aiden laughed softly, “I’m very good at sharing.”
Coёn laughed as well, dipped down to mouth at his neck. “Is this alright, Lam?” There was a note of concern there, the emergency stop just within reach. Coën was always looking out for him like that, sweet to him when he was nothing but mean and rude. Holding him together when he was running off the tracks.
“Yeah. This is good. Jus’ this though, shouldn’t… we’re drunk and-” He was stuttering like a fool and it would be a miracle if he got a single thought past his clumsy tongue.
“Yeah.” Coёn agreed. “Yeah, I got it.”
Over the next half hour they kissed intermittently, between commercials and the show he was able to kiss both his husband and his best friend at leisure; they were always simple pecks to lips and cheeks but each one was a thrill. By the end of the night he would know them both well enough to find them in the dark, to draw the shape of them from memory.
As the credits rolled on the episode Aiden set his whiskey glass on the table and leaned more heavily into his side. “Lambert?”
“Hm?”
“May I kiss your husband?” Aiden stage whispered.
Somewhere out in the universe a god was laughing, having won the bet of the century on Lambert’s luck. Words failed him and so he nodded, struck dumb as Aiden - pretty, pretty Aiden with his silky hair and emerald eyes and pretty cupid bow lips - leaned across his lap to kiss the man Lambert had nearly never met. Gods they were a sight together. Coёn broke the first kiss early just to thread his hand through Aiden’s just-long-enough-to-get-a-hold-on hair and hold him still for an eternal second like he planned to devour him. Coёn’s hand was big and there was something about the way he took control, keeping the kiss soft and meandering while ensuring that Aiden surrendered so completely to it that made Lambert lose it. Aiden surrendered for no one- except for a big soft hearted man who tended to love broken things.
When they broke apart the second time he made sure to kiss them both.
“Lean the recliner back.” He didn’t care which of them did it so long as the footrest was up and he could stretch out for a proper evening of kisses. He wanted them both in his arms and his feet up. Coën did it first, laughing as the footrest came up almost too fast and spilled his drink on his collar. Lambert had half a mind to lick it off. He refrained but it was only just.
Lambert slid into the seat, crowding Coën into the corner and then holding his arm out for Aiden to join. “Before you get comfortable, bring the bottle back.” Coën tilted his glass forward.
“I think you’ve had enough.” Lambert teased though did nothing to stop Aiden’s shaky one-finger pour into Coën’s glass.
“Last one, Lam.” Coën smiled. “I promise.”
He had meant to protest more but then Aiden was wiggling carefully into his space and he couldn’t rightfully complain about anything then.
The whiskey had hit him hard and he was loose and pliant as Coën slipped an arm behind his head to hold him close. He let his head roll to the left and brushed his lips against Coën’s, open mouthed and in invitation. Coën looked over his teeth, sighed, and broke away with one last exploring pass across his palate only to drag his lips across Lambert’s cheek. He nosed at his stubble to direct him toward Aiden.
Aiden, who sprawled and pushed and demanded space constantly but opened up to Lambert’s kisses hesitantly, eyes half lidded and a broken gasp on his lips. Lambert was careful as he placed a hand on Aiden where thigh met rounded cheek and pulled him more firmly onto his chest.
“There, now we can all reach.” He stole Coën’s glass, chasing away a sudden burst of anxiety with the harsh burn of alcohol. “Go on,” he urged Aiden with a confidence he didn’t actually posses, “kiss him. Touch him.”
Coën’s hair tickled his cheek when the man leaned over to meet Aiden halfway, little flyaways from his braid that couldn’t be tamed after a long day. Lambert laughed quietly, fingers flexing on both their bodies. Then both men stopped to look up at him, matching smiles on their lips. There were mice who felt less like prey than Lambert did in that moment.
Being kissed by two people at once was clumsy, messy, and to Lambert’s drunk mind perfect .
In the morning they would have to talk, decide where the boundaries of this wild thing were laid; but for the evening they had each other without fear. There were worse ways to ruin a friendship.