第 66 页

Maglor buried his face in Ríanellë’s shoulder, lips finding her neck, and he couldn’t keep from grinding forward against her. He slid a hand around her waist and down the softness of her belly to the warm thicket between her legs. His fingers dipped between her lips, feeling her wetness, and she moaned softly against Daeron’s mouth, spreading her knees apart so Maglor could reach deeper. Daeron broke away to grab something from the side of the bed, and passed it over to Maglor. Maglor leaned away long enough to put on the condom Daeron had given him, and then fit himself along Ríanellë’s back again.

“Is this okay?” he whispered into her ear. Daeron was watching avidly, his own hand taking the place of Maglor’s between Ríanellë’s legs as he bent down to kiss her small breasts.

“Yes.” Ríanellë smiled, and closed her eyes, tipping her head back on Maglor’s shoulder while he slid between her thighs from behind. “So okay. So good, oh – ”

Daeron parted his lips around Ríanellë’s breast, his hand moving lower, and Maglor couldn’t hold back a moan as Daeron’s fingers reached the place where their bodies joined.

“Holy shit,” Daeron whispered. “Holy shit, that’s hot.” He was hard too, pressing forward against Ríanellë’s thigh, and she wrapped a hand around him as he raised his head to kiss her neck. This put him and Maglor very close together when he raised his head. Their eyes met for a moment, and then Daeron, pressing forward into Ríanellë’s hand as Maglor moved into her from behind, closed the distance between them and kissed Maglor, very lightly.

Maglor didn’t think they’d done this last night – or if they had, it had been too hazed with wine and laughter for him to absorb it. Even now it was almost too odd, too ridiculous, and they kissed only chastely over Ríanellë’s shoulder as she gave a pleased murmur and a half-laugh of delight. Then Daeron wound a hand into Maglor’s hair and pulled him closer, and Maglor’s lips parted almost involuntarily to allow Daeron’s tongue against his. He hadn’t expected to react like this; even less had he expected to moan softly and reach out to clench a hand in Daeron’s hair in turn.

Ríanellë gasped as Maglor thrust into her, both of them reacting to Daeron’s hand still exploring the place where they joined. “Oh – oh, fuck, you two are so hot.”

Maglor and Daeron broke apart, both a little flushed and embarrassed, and Daeron quickly covered Ríanellë’s mouth with his own, grinding his hips against hers. Maglor pressed his lips to Ríanellë’s shoulder and tightened his grip on her waist, his breath coming quicker as he felt her clench down around him.

This he remembered from the night before, the wild fall towards orgasm, the odd and arousing and self-conscious awareness of My best friend is going to watch me come – and I’m watching him. It was overpowered, though, by the way Ríanellë cried out and twisted in his arms, simultaneously bucking against Daeron’s hand and pressing back against Maglor’s hips. Her shining black hair fell across her face, her lips kiss-bruised and her cheeks flushed, and Maglor felt winded by how beautiful she was – and she was in his arms, he was inside her – and when she came, he was right with her, while Daeron whispered, “Damn, damn, goddamn, you are amazing.”

Maglor didn’t know if he meant Ríanellë, or Maglor, or both of them together, but he didn’t care as he dragged Daeron forward into one last kiss.

* * *

It was midafternoon before they stirred again. Maglor curled up, yawning, his head in Ríanellë’s lap as she sat up in bed and checked her phone. Daeron rolled out of bed, groaning, and shuffled out of the room. There was a moment of silence, while Maglor drowsed and Ríanellë tapped busily at her phone, broken by Daeron’s voice.

“Why is the floor so sticky – Ría, you motherfucker, this is your fault!”

Ríanellë winced. “Oops.”

“Spilled wine?” mumbled Maglor, eyes still closed.

“Yeah, probably. I don’t know what you’re talking about!” called Ríanellë, louder. “Dai, you were so shwasted last night, you don’t remember who – ”

“Save it, sweetheart, I remember you dropping the bottle.”

“Damn it.”

“Rule of party fouls,” said Daeron, reappearing in the doorway. “She who dropped it, mops it.”

Ríanellë made a doleful face. Maglor, rolling over so he could look up at her, gave a snort of laughter. “What are you doing with your mouth?”

“I’m pouting!”

“You look like – What was that dinosaur from Land Before Time?”

“Ducky!” Daeron started to laugh too. “Bro, you cannot pull off pouting.”

Ríanellë slid her legs out from under Maglor’s head and got up. She was wearing an overlarge tee-shirt that belonged to one of them – Maglor wasn’t sure who – and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m naked in your bed and you’re calling me bro?”

“You’re not naked,” said Maglor, reasonably, stretching out full length in the vacated bed and reveling in being able to spread out. “You’re in my shirt.”

“My shirt, actually,” interjected Daeron. “So yeah, I think I can call you bro. Now come mop up the wine you spilled all over my floor last night, Ducky.”

Grumbling, Ríanellë slouched after him.

While she cleaned and sang some of the songs from their recording session under her breath, the smell of coffee filled the air as Daeron brewed a pot. Soon he came back into the bedroom with two mugs, one of which he handed to Maglor before sliding into bed next to him.

“I’ve got the shittiest headache,” he said, closing his eyes and slumping low on the pillows as he nursed his coffee. “This is definitely a day not to move if at all possible.”

“Agreed,” said Maglor, shooting a sidelong glance at him. Daeron settled back comfortably and their shoulders pressed together. Maglor didn’t say anything else, but drank his coffee gratefully.

Shortly thereafter, Ríanellë came back in, dragging the mop behind her and looking bedraggled. “That was gross,” she announced, and tipped the mop against the wall. “Scoot over and give me some of your coffee.” She crawled into bed between them, and they both recoiled.

“Ack! You’re all wet!”

“And sticky, damn, and you smell weird.”

“How dare you,” said Ríanellë, grabbing for the blankets, but Daeron kicked them out of her reach.

“You smell like mopwater and stale wine,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Uh uh, outta the bed until you take a shower.”

“You are such an asshole,” said Ríanellë, reaching for the blankets once more. This time Daeron blocked her with his legs and Maglor grabbed her around the waist and pulled her half across his lap.

“I agree with Dai,” he said. “Shower, for sure.”

“Traitor,” said Ríanellë indignantly, “I’ll bite you, you know.” Maglor didn’t let go, though, and Daeron sat up, grinning.

“Keep ahold of her, Mags, we can carry her to the bathroom.”

“No,” said Ríanellë warningly, as Maglor’s arm tightened around her waist. “No, don’t you dare pick me up – Maglor, I swear, I will crush you, I think I have ten pounds on you – Oh my god, noooo.”

Maglor had managed to get to his feet, somewhat ungainly, and made to heft Ríanellë over his shoulder, but she elbowed him in the face. “Ouch. Dai, grab her legs!”

Daeron scooped up Ríanellë’s legs while Maglor grabbed her under the arms, and they carried her, laughing and protesting, to the shower. Unable to let her go, Maglor and Daeron stepped into the shower stall with her, and Daeron turned on the water. They finally set her down as the water drenched them all, and realized, belatedly, that all of them were wearing clothes of some variety.

“Augh, turn the water hotter,” begged Maglor, stepping close to Ríanellë and huddling against her as the water cascaded over him.

Daeron complied, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes, and Ríanellë laughed evilly. “At least you motherfuckers have to get wet with me. And MY clothes are all dry since, as you pointed out, I am not in my own shirt.”

“Silence, wench,” said Daeron, upending shampoo over her head.

She retaliated, spitting a stream of water into his eyes, and Maglor groaned and slumped against the shower wall. “How are you two so energetic? I’m still hungover as fuck.”

“Can’t keep up with the big kids?” Daeron grinned at him through the steam now rising in clouds from the water.

“I know what’ll rouse him,” said Ríanellë, wiping lather from her hair and dabbing it thoughtfully onto Maglor’s nose. “You remember what we taught you last night, Dai?”

“Hell yes.”

Their voices rose together in soaring – and deafening – harmony. “OHHHHHH he’s a LYING flying PORKER, HO HO HO – ”

Maglor moaned piteously and slid to the floor of the shower, where he buried his head in his arms and let the water sluice over him. “I hate you both. So much.”

But he joined in for the chorus, anyway.

* * *

Fingon plopped the bowl of soup down in front of Maedhros as Maedhros frowned at the overlarge book in front of him.

“Take a break from studying for a hot second, Mae.”

“But I’m trying to relearn middle school math. Did you know they call it ‘growth rate’ instead of ‘slope’ now?”

“Were I lesser man, I’d make a joke about that. Look, it’s hot soup, it’ll feel good in your tummy.”

“And these formulae are different than from when I – ” Maedhros paused as the smell of broth wafted over him. “Hm. Soup. Are you mothering me?”

“No.”

“You are.”

“Eat, you nerd-ass motherfucker.”

“See, the mistake you make is assuming that’s not something my mother would say,” said Maedhros, but he put his book down and picked up the spoon Fingon was holding over his shoulder. “What kind is it?”

“Matzo ball,” said Fingon, sliding into a chair next to him, and propping his chin on his hands to study Maedhros. His quick glance took in the shadows under Maedhros’ eyes and the limpness of his hair. “Babe, you need to shower and sleep once you’re done with that.”

“Mothering me,” said Maedhros, and scooped up a matzo ball. “Mothering me something fierce, you are. Wasn’t Passover last month?”

“I don’t need a holiday to make matzo ball soup, I just need an overwhelmed boyfriend and a cold rainy day to inspire me.”

“I’m going to be eating this a lot then, aren’t I?” Maedhros slurped gratefully at the broth. “Mmm. What did I do to deserve being served nourishing soup by a gorgeous man who keeps me from falling over dead from stress?”

“Something terrible, probably,” said Fingon, stretching his arms out and laying his head on the table.

Maedhros looked at him, and something Maglor had said flashed through his mind. “You look tired yourself. Maybe we should both be sleeping more… You’ve been working late again.”

“ ‘Tis the life I signed up for, apparently – or rather, that you kind of signed me up for, you weasel. No, sh, don’t worry about it, I’m surviving.”

“I have said I was sorry about that. And I don’t know where you get off calling me out on my sleep habits, your eye bags are just as impressive as my eye bags.”

“It’s probably just that phenomenon, you know, where people grow to look like their dogs after they’ve lived with them a while.”

“Wait, which of us is the dog and which – No, I don’t actually want to know.” Maedhros bit into a matzo ball and closed his eyes in momentary bliss. “Okay, this is delicious. Is it your grandmother’s recipe?”

“Bubbe’s? Naw, it’s mom’s. I called her up for advice, and she said to buy the box and follow the instructions exactly and then I’d have her award-winning recipe.”

Maedhros contemplated this, then held out his spoon. “Here, have a matzo ball.”

“Mmm. Too tired.”

“And you say I’m bad.” Maedhros cocked his head and smiled coaxingly at Fingon. “Help me finish the soup, and then I’ll take a break from studying and we can both go take a nap.”

“We’re going to shower first,” said Fingon, accepting Maedhros’ spoon. “And there may be shower blowjobs, if either of us can stay awake long enough.”

“I must be getting old,” said Maedhros, as he and Fingon passed the spoon back forth, making quick work of the soup. “Because shower blowjobs sound exhausting.”

“We could just sort of slump against each other and do soapy handjobs instead.” Fingon pushed himself under Maedhros’ arm and leaned against his side, nudging him over so they both fit side by side on the chair. “Or we could just shower, fall into bed, pass out and dream about fucking each other vigorously.”

Maedhros let the spoon fall back into the empty bowl and wrapped his arms around Fingon, burying his nose in his hair. “Maybe we’re both getting old.”

“Maybe this is what being boring old marrieds is like.”

Maedhros felt a sudden leap of warmth that had nothing to do with the hot soup. “Finno?”

“M'yes?”

“If this is what getting old with you is going to be like, it can’t come soon enough.”

Fingon pulled himself into Maedhros’ lap and draped his arms around his neck to kiss him thoroughly, until shower blowjobs, or vigorous sex, didn’t seem quite so out of the question to Maedhros anymore. “Good,” said Fingon finally, breaking away and tucking his face against Maedhros’ neck. “Because I shit you not, Mae, I found a grey hair this morning.”

* * *

“Hey!” Maedhros’ voice sounded cheerful, if exhausted, and Maglor smiled, settling his back against the bench where he’d chosen to establish himself for his call home. There were evening joggers running through the park, some homeless people settling in for the night, and a teenage couple holding hands on the bench opposite, but no one was paying Maglor any attention at all. “God, it’s been so long I think I’ve forgotten what you look like. You’re short and fat and blond, right?”

“That’s me. But you, you I remember exactly what you look like. How’s the third arm? And the beard?”

“Prodigious. Az is jealous of it.”

Maglor laughed. “Aah, I miss you.”

“I miss you too, little brother. But you’re getting your big break, right? I can’t begrudge you that.”

“I guess not.”

“How’s it going?”

“You mean the recording?”

“Yes, of course.”

“It’s going…fine.”

“That’s all you’re going to give me? No details? Come on, lay it on me, tell me everything! What’s new and exciting?”

Maglor took a deep breath. “New and exciting? Well…”

“Hang on.” Maedhros’ voice grew briefly distant and slightly scratchier. “I’m putting you on speaker phone, ‘k?”

Maglor shut his mouth with a snap. “Why?”

“Because Tyelko and Moryo are over here and they want to hear too, of course.”

Maglor closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the bench. “Oh.” He wanted to hear from his brothers, of course he did, Caranthir in particular, but the one he wanted to talk to right now was Maedhros, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for anyone else to hear what he had to tell. “Did they come over just for the excitement of the phone call?”

“Of course not,” came Celegorm’s voice, crackly but loud through the speaker. “Nelyo promised to cook for us if we came over, so that’s the real appeal. Sorry, bro.”