1. Dexter
“Hi, sexy, I’m home.” I take my shoes and coat off, put my worn leather satchel down, toss my keys into the basket, and pad through to the sitting room.
“Hey, babe,” Lock says.
I shiver at seeing my husband in grey jogging bottoms and a tight-fitting white T-shirt, which shows off how often he works out. He’s lounging on the sofa with his laptop on his tree-trunk thighs. One hand is tucked under his head, and the other rests over the waistband of his joggers. I’m half-disappointed his hand isn’t inside his joggers, especially when the chirpy voice of The Pastel Gamer floats out of his speakers.
“Good day at work?” Lock asks.
I nod, lean over the back of the sofa, and peck his lips. I stand, but he grabs a fistful of my waistcoat and drags me down for a long, lingering kiss that’s all tongues and clashing teeth.
“I need more than a peck. I haven’t seen you all day.”
I chuckle. “I bet you slept for most of it.”
“I’ve been up for a couple of hours.”
I kiss the tip of his nose. “How was last night’s shift?”
“Busy for a Wednesday night. We were one of four ambulances sent to pick up the pieces after a pile-up on the motorway. Our patient made it. Not everyone was so lucky.”
I grimace. “Sounds tough.”
“About as tough as wrangling eleven-to-sixteen-year-olds all day.” He releases my waistcoat and tugs my bow tie undone. “Do you have much marking and planning?”
“A bit.” I nod at his laptop. “What’s The Pastel Gamer up to?”
“Streaming an extreme raid. They’re on their fifth go at it.”
“I assume you’re watching for tips on how to complete the raid?” I wink, making it clear I know that’s not why he’s watching the cute streamer. I enjoy ogling him as well.
Lock waggles his eyebrows. “Why don’t you join me, and you could pick up some tips too?”
“I bet you could pick up a date with a similar aesthetic.”
We might be married, but we’ve always practised polyamory. What polyamory means to us has changed over the years. We’ve each had different boyfriends, shared the same boyfriends, and been part of a vee. The only thing that’s remained consistent is our love for one another.
“It’s not just his aesthetic I like. It’s the whole package. Do you think he puts on his perky personality for streaming?” Lock asks.
“Maybe.”
Lock sighs. “It would be a shame if it’s an act.”
“Does it matter? We’ll never get to meet him. He can be anything you want him to be in your fantasies.”
Lock licks his lips. “In my fantasies, he’s between us. Physically, not emotionally.”
Unlike Eddie, Lock’s ex-boyfriend. Until recently, he lived with us. When Lock introduced him to me, my husband hoped Eddie and I would fall for each other too and that we’d go from a hierarchical relationship, where I was Lock’s number one, to a triad. The trouble was that Eddie didn’t want to accept me as Lock’s primary partner. He wasn’t happy with the amount of time Lock dedicated to me, nor was he interested in being in a triad with me. The three of us sat down together for an open and frank conversation about what we wanted, at the end of which Eddie decided to walk away. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. The three of us wanted different things then. Not that it stopped Lock from being devastated the relationship hadn’t worked out. Besides the odd steamy one-night stand, we haven’t shared a partner since. I’d like to. Lock and I are always the hottest when we’re together.
I hum at the mental image of the cute pastel twink sandwiched between Lock and me.
“Join me,” Lock repeats. “We can have sexy thoughts together.”
“You make a compelling argument.”
“Right?”
Laughing, I walk around the sofa as Lock shuffles up, letting me lie beside him. He puts his arm around me so I don’t fall off. I rest my head on his shoulder and my hand on his chest. If only he were wearing less clothing.
On the laptop screen, a party of eight is fluffing the mechanics of an extreme raid on Eventide, a massively multiplayer online role-playing game that Lock and I have played together for the last eight years. As the sign above the wall-mounted TV says, ‘Lovers who game together, stay together’. Next to the TV, we have a bookshelf in the shape of Pac-Man, his open mouth big enough to seem like he’s about to eat the TV.
A live feed of The Pastel Gamer takes up the bottom left-hand corner of the laptop screen. He lives up to his streaming name. His hair is a pretty shade of lilac, which compliments his pink cat ear headphones and T-shirt. Above him, his ceiling looks like clouds with pink, purple, blue, and green lights chasing through it. He’s smiling and laughing as he plays Eventide, his eyes sparkling as he chats to his fans. He has a sweet, soft voice. When he looks right at the camera, it’s easy to believe he’s talking to us and no one else.
“How was your date last night?” Lock nuzzles my jaw while he keeps his stare on the screen.
“Fine.” I often arrange a date or hook-up when Lock is working nights.
“Just fine?”
I sigh. “He wasn’t impressed with reality versus my profile picture.”
Lock scowls.
“We had a drink but didn’t go further than that.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”
“Maybe I should take a different profile picture. One that’s less—flattering.”
I’m a big guy, but the right clothes, lighting, and angles can mask my size to a certain extent.
“You’re gorgeous exactly as you are, and don’t let anyone make you believe otherwise. That guy was a jerk.”
“Maybe.”
“There’s no maybe about it, babe. You deserve to date guys who treat you like a king. You’re fucking beautiful, Dex. My sexy nerd.” He hugs me tight and kisses my hair.
In his arms, I feel like the most stunning man alive. The trouble is, more often than not, my dates make me feel the exact opposite. Hook-ups don’t tend to care that I don’t have a ripped body like Lock’s and that I’m on my way to having a double chin. Sex is sex after all.
I glance at the screen. Would a guy as cute as The Pastel Gamer ever fancy a man like me? He’s tiny compared to Lock and me. Slim and petite. It’s hard to guess how tall he is when I’ve only seen him sitting at a computer, but I imagine he’s shorter than us.
“What are you thinking about?” Lock asks.
“Sexy thoughts.” I kiss him and watch the stream again.
“Me too.”
The streaming party wipes out. One by one, members quit until The Pastel Gamer is the only one left.
“Looks like I need a new party. I’ll take a ten-minute break and then use the party finder.” His gaze flicks down, no doubt to read messages from people watching the stream.
Lock has the video on full screen, hiding the comments section.
“Nah, I don’t care if you’re good at raiding. You know me. I’m not a hardcore raider either. I want to have fun.” The Pastel Gamer grins, which makes his blue eyes brighter, and stares straight into the camera. “Come party with me. I’ll be back in ten.”
The livestream is replaced by a looped holding video of a chibi version of The Pastel Gamer’s in-game avatar chasing a ball of wool.
“Want to party with him?” Lock asks.
“Thousands of people are going to want to join his group.”
“So? We’ve got as much chance as anyone else of making it. Are you up for it?”
“You just want to tell him you fancy him.”
Lock laughs. It’s a deep, mellow sound that makes my toes curl. “I wouldn’t be so crass. Come on, what have we got to lose?”
“Nothing. Fine. Let’s do it. Especially if it’ll make you happy.”
“Happy? It’ll make me horny.”
I let out a loud belly chuckle. “Well, in that case, I definitely can’t refuse.”
“I’ll go log on.”
Lock tosses me the game console controller and then goes into our bedroom, where our PC is set up. I say ‘our’ PC, but Lock was the one who bought all the components and built it from scratch. Damn, that man is sexy when he’s geeking out over graphics cards, CPUs, and cooling systems.
As unlikely as it is, it would be fun to party with The Pastel Gamer. I cross my fingers and toes as I log into the game.