Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 2

Marcus and Bryan that made this house a home. It was those two men who made this place feel so warm and inviting and made me want to never leave.
    I stood back and shook the unwanted thoughts from my head as I lifted my white shirt to wipe away the sweat and splatters of paint from my face. When I lowered my shirt again I startled, taking a step back. Bryan was standing right in front of me, eyes still on my chest, though quickly moving up to my face when he saw me watching.
    "You missed a spot," he said, stepping forward and raising his hand to my face, wiping at my cheek with his thumb. My heart clutched in my chest, and I did my best not to let blood rush to my face, or anywhere else. But at the same time I still couldn't stop myself from examining his face, memorizing the cut of his cheekbones, the way his hair framed his forehead. It was a rare chance to see him up close, and I wanted to treasure it.
    "Better on me than on the wall," I said with a shrug.
    Bryan's lips crinkled as he broke into a smile. "You're so right," he said, his voice low and smooth. God, it sounded like a come-on. It really did. But I just wanted it to be, is all. They're married , I scolded myself, and ridiculously happy. Stop imagining things.
    It was hard, though, not to imagine. I tried to see myself as a part of a partnership like that. One day, with someone I hadn't met yet. I conjured up the man of my dreams, tried to build a story for myself that might take my mind off the way Marcus and Bryan talked and moved and breathed in the same rhythm. But inevitably I would realize that I'd just created a clone of one or both of them. And even so, it didn't feel the same. I didn't want one of them, didn't want my own version of their relationship. I wanted their relationship, I wanted both of them, wanted to be let in on the marvelous partnership they had. If it wasn't them, if it wasn't that love, it wasn't enough.
    And it was torture to be on the outside looking in. There were nights when holed up in the spare bedroom I thought I could hear the two of them making love. They were so courteous and so restrained, but just once in a while, a rustle, or a gasp, or a "Fuck" or a "Shh"... I lay in my bed, gripping my cock, trying to resist the overwhelming desire to imagine their bodies together, to let my eyes roll back in my head and give myself over to the lust that roiled my blood. I wasn't always successful, but I did try. Because when it was over and I lay in the dark panting, my stomach covered with my come, a profound loneliness seeped in in the wake of the pleasure. I was still alone, still in the other room. I would never be part of them, no matter how much I yearned and how much I tried. And someday this project would end and I'd have to say my goodbyes and leave the only home and family I'd ever wanted to be a part of.
    It was better to cover my head with a pillow and try not to listen than to let the want, and the grief, pour through me freely.
    ****
    It only got harder. As I finished up the upstairs and moved down to the rooms on the lower level I could feel time dragging on me. Wouldn't be long 'til I got to my final step, that gorgeous, airy living room they were so anxious to repaint and refinish so they had a spectacular place to throw parties, and after that my work would be done. I couldn't stand the thought of it. My work would live on, and Bryan and Marcus would live out their days here, and I would be somewhere far away and long forgotten.
    I just wanted it to be over with. To get finished and get out as quickly and quietly as I could, before I ended up saying something I couldn't take back. Because I was in love with them. Both of them; in love with the two of them together. It was a huge, encompassing, heart-burning feeling and I didn't know how to handle it. Every inch of my soul that had ever been left cold by an affair had warmed and was now igniting with my desire to be with them, stay with them forever. But they were married. Forsaking all others, the vow went, and that included me.
    I walked in on them in the kitchen and found them huddled together as usual. But this time it wasn't a laptop or a set of blueprints, but a few notebooks and index cards. Bryan looked up at me and smiled. "Hey, come here a sec. How long before the living room's ready for entertaining?"
    "Another few days," I said. "Making plans?"
    "We were thinking of having a party to celebrate," Bryan said to me. "A housewarming, if you will. To show