What You Need

8. Dylan

EIGHT

DYLAN

Focusing on work the next day was nearly impossible. Dylan was working through figuring out how to merge the data between two very different systems, and every time he looked at his screen, his eyes crossed.

Then his phone rang. His body reacted physically, expecting to receive another problem at work that he wouldn’t have time to solve. Instead, it was Leon.

“Hey,” Dylan said, getting up from his computer chair and stretching out on his couch in his home office. He shut his eyes to give them a rest.

“Hi. I noticed this morning that Oliver left his jacket at my place, and it looks like his wallet is in it too. Can I drop it off? I’m in your part of town.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Dylan said. He knew they weren’t about to have a sexy little moment, but he wanted to see Leon, regardless. Maybe thank him again for showing Oliver such a good time.

They hung up, and ten minutes later, Leon knocked on his door. Dylan opened it to see him standing there with Oliver’s jacket folded over his arm.

“Here you go,” Leon said, looking almost awkward outside of the context of their sex-based interactions thus far.

“Thanks. I texted Oliver, and he hadn’t even realized he didn’t have his wallet. Do you want to come in? I was just about to make lunch, if you haven’t eaten yet.”

“Yeah, that would be great, actually. I didn’t think I’d get to fit in a meal today.”

“Crazy at work?” He led Leon back to the kitchen, where he started pulling sandwich supplies out. He would have offered fancy steakhouse leftovers, but he and Oliver had devoured them after Leon left.

“Busy, but not terrible. You look a little stressed.” Leon’s gaze, always penetrating, was soft now, but he still looked at Dylan like he could see into his soul.

“Big work project that’s a nightmare, honestly,” Dylan said, turning to the counter to assemble sandwiches. “When people who don’t know how software works make decisions about software…I could scream.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Leon said, voice low. He was close, right behind Dylan, his hands coming up to Dylan’s shoulders, thumbs pressing into the tense muscles. Dylan groaned, his eyes falling shut instantly.

“Fuck, that feels good.”

“I’ve been told I’m good with my hands,” Leon teased. Flirted. Dylan was used to that energy getting directed straight at Oliver, and rightly so. But it was nice.

Dylan stood still as Leon worked on his shoulders, his hands trailing up his neck. Dylan was half hard just because that seemed to be his default lately and also because Leon’s hands felt so good on him. Leon’s massage came to an end, but he didn’t step away, wrapping his arms around Dylan’s chest and pressing his hips forward, trapping Dylan between his body and the counter. Leon’s erection was hard against his ass, and Dylan’s mouth went dry.

“I can give you a different kind of massage if you need more relaxation.” Leon’s voice was soft and husky by Dylan’s ear. He imagined how good Leon’s hands would feel on his cock if Leon had already melted him with nonsexual touch. He remembered what Leon’s eyes had looked like in nearly the same spot they were presently in, just under twelve hours before, as Dylan knelt behind his husband and Leon watched him over Oliver’s shoulder.

“I’m sure Olly would be fine with it, but I gotta talk to him about it first,” Dylan said. They had been so focused on negotiating boundaries between Oliver and Leon and what was acceptable there, and Dylan and Leon had never come up. Maybe it should.

Leon pressed a soft kiss behind Dylan’s ear and gave him some space. Dylan missed their contact already but knew he’d made the right choice. “No problem. I’m no home-wrecker.”

Dylan turned, leaning against the counter. “No, you’re not. You’ve always felt very…genuine. There’s a reason I trust you so much with Oliver.”

“Oliver is incredible,” Leon said. Dylan wasn’t sure if his direct communication skills came from being kinky, or if he fit in so well with that lifestyle because he was so good at being open about sex. “But what we’re doing is all three of us.”

Dylan nodded, casting his gaze down to avoid eye contact. While his and Oliver’s interactions with Leon had been very different, their reaction to him was the same. He could make the two of them blush with very little effort.

“Let me do the sandwiches. You go sit down,” Leon said, giving his arm a squeeze. Dylan did as he was told, sitting at the breakfast bar and watching as Leon spread mayo and piled on toppings.

From the very first moment, Leon had always been a caretaker. Dylan saw it in the gentle way he touched Oliver and the direct way he spoke to Dylan. It was obvious what kind of lover he was. But the caretaking extended beyond the bedroom too, clearly.

When the sandwiches were done, Leon sat next to him, legs spread wide enough for his thigh to press against Dylan’s. They ate, and he and Leon found common ground talking about hockey, losing time until Dylan got a fifteen-minute notification for a call he had to be on.

“Fuck, I have to hop on a call soon,” he said, his workday crashing around him again.

Leon took their empty plates to the sink and rinsed them off, and then he pulled Dylan into a tight hug, pressing their bodies together. It was like being wrapped in a weighted blanket. A little of the stress melted away.

“You got this,” Leon said as they made their way to the front door. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Thanks for the neck rub and for bringing Olly’s stuff. I’m sure he was so fucked out last night he forgot that jackets, as a concept, even existed.”

That got a smile out of Leon. He truly was stunning, and not just when he was fucking Dylan’s husband.

“I’ll see you soon, Dylan.”

“Hey, um, I also wanted to thank you for… Oliver has been having kind of a rough time lately. The couple we used to hang out with a lot moved to California. His favorite coworker quit. He’s been a little lonely, and you’re helping that a lot.”

“Honestly, I’m getting the same right back.”

Leon pulled Dylan into one more lingering hug. His cologne hung in the air around Dylan after he left, and Dylan raised a hand as Leon pulled out of the driveway to make it back to work.

Dylan drifted back to his home office with a handful of minutes before his meeting. When he thought of Leon, his primary thought was never enough . And now he wanted even more.

The group text was always active, but after Dylan and Leon spent so much time coordinating Leon and Oliver’s date, their private text thread stayed active, too. Sometimes it felt “on topic.” Dylan sent Leon photos of Oliver. Leon shared some fantasies and made requests. It was a different kind of flirting than Dylan had ever done. Whatever relationship he was developing with Leon wasn’t something he could stick a clear label on, but it was fun. And once they exhausted their Oliver-related running commentary at any given moment, they moved on to different topics—cooking, movies, sports, and asking about each other’s day. Between sharing Dylan’s husband between the two of them, Leon was becoming his friend. He liked when Leon was in his bed, and he also liked Leon in every other context they’d been in together so far.

Oliver had given his go-ahead for any kind of sexual contact Dylan wanted with Leon, but they hadn’t had a chance to actually do anything yet. It was all Dylan could think about.

“I have an idea I want to run past you. You can turn me down,” Dylan told Oliver as he looked away from the computer screens in his home office. Sometimes he worked strange or long hours, and he had a couch in his office for Oliver to hang out on if he was home from work for the day.

Oliver took an AirPod out of his ear and set his iPad down. “Are you going to suggest something sexy or something awful like yard work?”

“Something sexy,” Dylan assured.

“Deal. Yeah, I’ll do it.”

“What assumptions are you making, my love?”

“Uh, something with Leon. Maybe you’ll finally fucking London Bridge me. Or Eiffel Tower me? Which one is it? I can never remember.”

“Spit roast is as clear as I can offer.”

“Okay, yeah, I’m into that.”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Dylan said, exasperated but delighted by his husband’s eagerness. He knew, from some extensive texting, that Leon would also be into spit roasting Oliver. “I’m thinking it would be fun if Leon came to Vegas with us.”

“Oh,” Oliver said, genuinely surprised.

“If you’re not into it, that’s okay. I just figured you would be a little bored and might want some company.” Every year Dylan’s industry had a trade show in Vegas, and Oliver came with him to have fun while Dylan did work stuff, talking about software and hardware in a way that put Oliver to sleep.

“I’m into it,” Oliver said. Dylan could see his brain was already going a mile a minute. So was Dylan’s.