Three of a Kind

Randy grinned. “Eh. I’m not stud like Butch. Or a hottie like you.” Randy tilted his head. “I’m…a ’tweener.”

“A ’tweener?” He let his eyes drag over the sandy brown hair, the lean muscles, the bright eyes. “You’re fine.”

Randy beamed and grinned. “A ’tweener—not a stud, not a hottie, something in between. Fine. I like that. Like a wine or piece of art. Fine.”

He nodded, serious, admiring. “Yeah. Real fine.”

Randy tugged his chair over closer and gave him a kiss. “Wanna play with fine?”

“Uh-huh.” He slid his hands around Randy’s waist.

Randy shifted, moving to straddle him in his chair. “Okay?” Randy asked, eyes warm, wanton.

He nodded, grinned. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Cool.”

Randy’s mouth closed over his, hot and eager, hands moving along his shoulders and down his front. He groaned, sliding his hands up along Randy’s ribs, and opening his mouth wide. How many times could they all come in a day?

Butch’s chuckle came from behind him, a kiss landing on the top of his head, hands on his shoulders. “Randy, are you ever not horny?”

“Lots of times,” Randy murmured against Zane’s mouth.

“Like from birth to age twelve?”

“Ten. I was precocious.”

Zane chuckled, pinched Randy’s butt. “Your balls wouldn’t have dropped yet.”

Randy squeaked and wriggled. “I said I was precocious.”

against him. Zane moaned, nuzzling into them, breathing deep. Oh. Oh, they smelled so good.

Butch slid over to the side and they cuddled him between them, all of them sharing warm kisses.

“Thank you. So good. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank us every time, Zane. We’re enjoying ourselves too.”

Randy nodded at Butch’s words. “Yeah.”

“Sorry.” He blushed. “I’m new at this.”

Randy giggled and kissed him. “And you don’t have to say you’re sorry, either. It’s not wrong to say thank you. Can you do something wrong making love, Butch?”

“You can not enjoy yourself, I guess. That seems fucking wrong.” Butch’s eyes twinkled. “Get it? Fucking? Wrong?”

Zane laughed, took another kiss and another. “Then I’m good.”

Randy beamed at him. “You are!”

Zane started chuckling, tickled and melty and happy.

Butch’s stomach growled and that made Randy giggle. “You’re always hungry!”

Butch tapped Randy on the nose. “Unlike you, who never are.”

“I got fixings for biscuits and sausage and gravy.” Zane liked cooking, and the more he did, the better he was at it.

“Oh, that sounds good!” Randy kissed him and bounced up. “I’m going to get fat if you keep cooking.”

Butch chuckled, hand sliding on Randy’s belly. “Oh, yeah, that’s going to happen.”

“We all work hard.” Zane grinned, searching for his jeans.

the time, but he’s being funny when he says that.”

“He’s very proud of you. Says you sell your work in a gallery?”

“Yeah. Some guy showed up a couple years ago and wanted to buy it. Can you believe that? It makes me laugh sometimes, thinking of my sculptures in people’s living rooms.”

“That’s cool.” He shut the truck hood before following Randy back across the yard.

Randy grinned as he opened the door. “I’m working on the pieces of you. You know, from when I sketched you?”

“Yeah. Me? Really?” Weird and cool all at once.

Randy nodded and pulled him into the room, turning on the lights.

There were pieces everywhere and stuff stacked in shelves against the walls. None of the pieces looked like him. None of them really even looked like people. Or faces.

There were lots of things, though, that might have been curls, curly and springy, and green marbles and glass and paint in twos that must have been eyes. One that was a square-ish piece of metal shaped like a cowboy hat.

“Wow. Wow, this is too cool.” He looked around, fascinated.

Two of the walls were lined with shelves with all sorts of clutter on them. Zane couldn’t have pointed out what order existed there, but he would bet Randy knew where everything was and had a reason for why the lengths of metal pipes were sitting next to a basket full of broken plates.

Chapter Five

Randy stretched as he woke up, blinking as he searched the place for Zane and Butch. He was pretty sure it was still the weekend. Sunday. It was deserted, though.

He went to get himself some orange juice and grabbed the chocolate milk instead. They’d never had chocolate milk before. Cool.

There were odd noises from outside, and he pulled on his shorts, then wandered out, grabbing a hat from the peg by the door.

Wow, check it out. Butch had moved the old trailer a little closer to the warehouse, away from the piles of junk in the yard, and him and Zane were working on the inside by the sound of it.

Randy wandered over to the door and poked his head in. “Hey.”

He got a grin from Butch, who was fixing cabinets. “Hey, babe, you sleep good?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Hey, Zane.”

“Howdy.” Zane was shirtless, sweating, patching the holes in the floor, shooing the lizards he found outside.

Wow, maybe all construction workers were sexy.

“Are we moving?” he asked.

Zane blinked over. “Nah. Butch is going to let me live in here for a while. Give y’all your house back.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. It’s going to be hotter out here.”

“Randy.”

“And even then, don’t give him a budget.”

Zane chuckled, nodded. “I hear that.”

“You about ready to head off? I promise it’s not the torture that Randy makes it out to be.”

“Sure.” Zane nodded, grabbed his hat. “Let’s go.”

He headed out, Zane at his heels, and got them on the road to the grocery store. It was nice having some company along for a change.

“So Bob said if you were feeling up to it, he’d have work for you starting Wednesday. I told him I imagined you’d give it your best shot, which meant you’d be there. I hope that was okay.”

“Oh, man. You rock. Thanks. I’ll be there. Promise.”

Butch grinned. “You’re welcome. Bob’s good people, he’ll keep you on as long as you work hard and he can keep finding jobs for you to do.”

“I will. I can work hard. I’ll get used to the heat.”

Yeah, that was probably going to be the hardest thing. “You keep your hat on and plenty of water stocked. Bob usually has a cooler and the lunch truck that comes by has lots of sodas and juice and whatnot. I usually buy my lunch, but if there’s gonna be food like that chili to warm up, well. I might be saving a bit of money.”

Zane nodded. “I hear that. I like enchiladas warmed up a lot.”

“You can do enchiladas?” Oh, they were going to eat well as long as Zane stuck around.

“Yeah. Beef and chicken. Although the chicken ones sometimes are too juicy.”

“Too juicy? That’s what napkins are for.”

They pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store and headed in.

take it, he wasn’t going to chase anyone down.

They drove out, the traffic light for so early in the morning, coming up on what was left of the kid’s truck. Shit. Looked like the lowlifes had been out and about early-early. They’d taken the tires, the mirrors, and God knew what from under the hood.

Beside him Zane shrank, like a balloon with the air let out.

“Shit, Zane, I’m sorry. I should have driven you back last night or tried to tow it in.” He sat there staring at it, figuring they’d have to call Samuels now, get it pulled up onto the flatbed and driven back to the yard.

“S’okay, man. You were way cool.” Those eyes wouldn’t meet his, but Zane offered over a hand, taking his. “I’m gonna see if there’s anything left behind. I appreciate the help, sir.”

Butch looked at Zane. “I’m not going to leave you out here with your truck undriveable.” Fuck, even if he didn’t have a soft spot for strays, he wouldn’t do that. “And I’ve told you, the name is Butch.”

Shit, the kid was too fucking pale to be out in the desert sun, even if it was September. “I haven’t the foggiest idea what to do next.”

“I do.”

He called up Bob and told him he’d be in at noon. Then he called Samuels and asked him to come out with the truck, explaining they had a wheel-less vehicle. He grabbed one of the bottles of water, opened it, then handed it over to Zane. “Relax, we’ve got about a half hour, maybe an hour.”

“Thanks.” Poor, pitiful kid, trying so hard to hold his shit together.