Beautiful Losers - Part Five

The street lamps outside the club were splaying light in the cold air and it had begun to snow. I was intoxicated and breathless as they pulled me into the back of the cab. Normally, I was always thrilled at the first sight of snow, especially at night. Now, all I could think about was how uncomfortable I felt with all these clothes on.

"Whose place?" asked Jean.

"Mine, I think," responded Sebastian. He gave the driver an address over on the east side.

We sat in silence in the taxi, holding hands. Neither of their grasps was light or casual; my fingers were going numb. As if, if we let go, someone would fall - off a cliff, into some yawning abyss. The drive was quiet. I could hear my own breathing and tried to quiet it, to slow it down. But on either side of me, I could hear Jean and Sebastian doing the same. We all sounded like we'd run a marathon.

And it scared me. I'd had my share of infatuations. I'd learned how to talk myself out of them. I thought I knew the difference between lust and love, and I had never been one of those people whose sex drive ran their lives. I had a job, I played in a band. My life was more than the boyfriend I was fucking. Why did this - this thing - feel so enormous? Where had all my control gone?

"I feel kind of funny," I offered.

Jean reached up and put a palm to my forehead. I shook it away. "Not sick, just funny."

"What kind of funny?" asked Sebastian, with an amused smile. I thought it was amused, but the car was dark. "Funny ha-ha or funny weird?"

"Funny weird. I feel like I'm out of control."

"Me too," murmured Jean.

"I'm always out of control," added Sebastian. "This is completely different." I felt him give my hand a sharp squeeze.

Jean, I knew. I could trust him to tell me the truth. Sebastian was a different matter. He schemed, he manipulated, he had a hell of a social reputation. He wasn't in the least bit trustworthy.

I shifted a little on the seat, wet and uncomfortable. "Does anyone know what we're doing?"

"Definitely not," said Jean. He turned to look at me, his face was serious, his water-blue eyes glinted in the passing streetlights. "I'm completely out of my depth here."

"You two! What a pair of drama queens! I know what I'm doing. I'm having my cake and eating it too." Sebastian pecked me on the cheek and then reached over and kissed Jean. "The problem with both of you is that you over-think things. This is good, it feels good, we're happy - where's the dilemma?"

I'd never been to Sebastian's place. It was a huge old Victorian house. When we climbed out of the cab the snow had started to settle on the ground, dusting everything in glittering crystal.

"Wow, Sebastian! How did you afford this?" I looked up at the beautifully restored building. "What do you actually do for a living?"

Jean snickered. "It's his dirty little secret. Shall I tell her?"

"Oh, by all means, be my guest. She'll lose all respect for me, but what's that worth anyway?"

Jean linked his arm through mine and squeezed it. "Our Sebastian here is the product of stinking rich parents. He didn't earn it: he inherited."

Sebastian unlocked the front door, walked in and held it for us, smiling. "I don't do anything. I'm a spoilt rich brat."

"That's it!" I said in mock-disgust. "I can't associate myself with the likes of you! It offends my deeply held socialist values."

Sebastian grabbed my arm and pulled me over the threshold. "Values? How disgusting. We're going to have to do something about that."

The house was huge and all wood-paneling. I got the sneaking suspicion that Sebastian didn't do his own housecleaning. I couldn't imagine anyone being able to take care of this alone. I walked through the dimly lit main hall and poked my head around into what looked like the living room. It was enormous. "So who lives here, your parents?"

"No. Just me."

"Come on will you?" Jean looked over the banister from halfway up the stairs.

Sebastian looked up at him. "Don't you think I ought to be a good host and at least offer drinks or something?"

"Yes, by all means. Grab a bottle and bring it up," Jean said with authority. "Shira, follow me."

I ran up the staircase after Jean. He stood holding out his hand and I took it and let him lead me up the stairs. On the landing, he took a right. It occurred to me that he'd been here often and felt fairly at home. But the big house made me feel like I was about to run into someone disapproving at any moment. He opened a door and pulled me through it.

You could have hit me with a hammer. The room was so completely different to the rest of the house, I just stood there gaping. It was all dark red - almost everything. The walls, the carpet, the bed, the bookcase. The only other colours in the room were on the spines of the books.

"I just have to get through the rest of that mausoleum as fast as I can. Way to much brown," said Jean dramatically. "I tried to talk him into black, but Seb wouldn't go for it." He unzipped his jacket and threw it onto a couch that stood in front of a huge bay window. Outside, the snow was coming down hard.

I shrugged out of my coat and draped it on top of his, still reeling a little from the shock of the room. The bed was enormous and made of wrought iron. It was quite high actually, and the only thing in the room that even came close to matching the style of the house, with round brass finials at the top of each post.

Jean walked over to me and started pulling off my clothes, dotting my face with little kisses. Something was different with him. I started in on his shirt buttons and looked at him questioningly. "What's gotten into you Mister Jean?" I asked gently. He was fumbling with the tab on the waistband on my jeans.

"I don't know, why?" He didn't look at me. He was tugging at it and making no headway at all. "Fuck, how do you undo that?"

"Um... it's a snap?" Now I was a little concerned. I put my arms around him and pulled him to me, trying to catch his eye. He was trying to look at anything but me. I clutched a handful of hair and pulled his head so that he had to look at me. Anyway, I think the aggression got his attention. "Hey, what's wrong, Jean?"

Something changed in his eyes and my heart welled up. He was on the verge of tears. "Jean, please! What's up? You're scaring me."

"When you think of me, how do you think of me? As a man?" A large tear slipped through his mascara'd lashes and rolled down his pale cheek. "Do you think of me as man at all?"

The question stopped me dead. I opened my mouth, hoping that something intelligent and appropriate would just flop out. What was he really asking? What answer did he hope I'd give him?

A wave of guilt that washed over me, it was almost nauseating. I had caused this! He wouldn't even be asking this stupid question if it hadn't been for me. I shouldn't have slept with them. I should have dug my heels in and told them both to fuck off. I had brought this whole gender thing into the mix. If I hadn't been there, Jean wouldn't be asking that question. It hurt me to think he needed to ask it now. But I loved him. I owed him honesty.

"When I think of you, I just think of *you*. I never really felt the need to classify you, Jean," I said gently, kissing his pale cheek.

When Sebastian opened the door, I felt a flood of relief. I looked at him over Jean's shoulder, not wanting to let him go."We so need what's in that bottle right now."

"What's wrong?" For all Sebastian's supposed 'out of controlness', he had pretty good emotional radar.

"We're having a little identity crisis. I think it's my fault," I said softly. "I think maybe I should go."

Sebastian came and wrapped his arms around both of us. "I think not," he said. "I don't think you solve anything by avoiding it. I think it's time for all good children to be in bed."

Once undressed and under the covers, with Jean tucked in the middle, we passed the bottle back and forth in silence. Finally, he sniffed, leveling his eyes at me. His liner had run giving him a hurt, bruised look. "You didn't give me a proper answer. I need one."

My heart started to race. I was so scared for Jean. "I hope to god it's the one you want to hear."

"I would appreciate the truth, please."

I glanced over at Sebastian who gave me a wan smile. No help there.

"Okay. The truth... The truth is that I think of you as a male - absolutely male. Never once has it crossed my mind that you were anything but." I watched his face, trying to gauge his reaction, but there was nothing I knew how to read there - except for this person, this man I adored. "But I did, until very recently, think of you as gay - one hundred percent gay. And I can tell you, it's not so easy to know the person you're in love with can't really love you back - except in that friendly sort of way."

Beneath covers, Jean's hand searched out mine and clasped it tight. "And now?"

I sighed and shrugged. My stomach squirmed. "Now, I don't know. I wish you wouldn't care so much about it. I don't. And I'd be very happy to going back to just being friends, if it would make things less complicated."

"Can I interrupt here and ask what the hell set this off anyway?" asked Sebastian passing me the vodka. I took it, but didn't drink any more. For all the pain I was in, and for all the fear, I didn't want to be any drunker. I didn't want to blurt out anything stupid by mistake. I passed the bottle on to Jean.

"I think it was probably some of the things that got said at the club."

Sebastian shifted onto his side and put his arm over Jean's chest. He let his fingertips traces abstract patterns on the skin. "Was it?" he asked him.

Jean nodded. "Yeah."

I shook my head in frustration. "But why did you want to tell everyone? You know how nasty they can be! What were you looking for, approval?"

"No... not really. Maybe."

"You were, you were!" laughed Sebastian, grabbing Jean by the waist and flipping him over onto his stomach. Sebastian settled his larger body on top of Jean's and captured his wrists. He put his lips to Jean's ear. "Oh, Jean, you're such attention whore! Aren't you my angel?" Sebastian ground his hips against Jean.

I rolled onto my side. Jean was trying so damn hard to keep a smile off his face - it was delectable. Sebastian kissed his shoulder and nipped him with his teeth, eliciting a yelp.

"Aren't we enough for you, you silly slut? You need to have the whole club adoring you? What a fickle, heartless boy you are." Sebastian's harsh whisper was punctuated with hip thrusts. "Such a bad boy, such a faithless little whore. Fuck, you make me so hot."

Jean struggled beneath him, eyes closed in a tear-stained face. Sebastian didn't let up. He pinned both Jean's wrists against the bed, pushing his body into the mattress. "I don't need to tell you what you are, do I? Do I?" he demanded, grinding against him.

"Sebastian?" I whispered. "I think you're hurting him."

The laugh came from somewhere deep. He looked at me and smiled, shaking his head. "You really don't know the first thing about our boy here, do you?" Sebastian let go of one of the wrists and slid his hand between Jean's chest and the bed. Suddenly Jean cried out and bucked beneath him.

"Stop it!" I said, getting worried.

"Shut up, Shira. You have a lot to learn about Jean." His voice was hoarse, full of gravel. He moved again. Jean yelped and squirmed. Freeing his lover's other wrist, Sebastian threaded his fingers through Jean's mess of hair, gripped and tugged hard, pulling Jean's head back. "Tell her you like it," Sebastian growled. "Tell her."

Jean's gaze slid sideways, eyes half-closed. He was so turned on it shocked me.

Sebastian sat up, and pushed the covers aside, mostly onto me. With the hand that wasn't clutching Jean's hair, he landed a brutal slap on Jean's ass cheek. "Tell her, you fucking whore!"

The gaze slid towards me again, almost vacant. "I like it," whispered Jean.

"That's better," said Sebastian, letting go of Jean's hair. "Now suck me."

Without a single word, or giggle, Jean got to his knees, moved between Sebastian's legs, and bent over his cock and took him into his mouth.

I lay on my side, watching them, feeling like Sebastian was right. I didn't really understand Jean at all. In fact, I didn't really understand anything. I was relieved that, whatever had upset Jean so much, Sebastian knew just what to do to make everything better for Jean. It stung me to realize that nothing I could have said would have made a difference. Sometimes, I thought, it isn't about words.

Sebastian's hand was on Jean's head, guiding him down onto his cock, slowly, over and over. He whispered things and stroked Jean's cheek. And Jean was like putty in his hands.

I felt sad and turned on, and fell asleep before Sebastian came.

- - -

It was pitch dark in the room when I woke. Disoriented, it took me a few moments to remember whose bed this was.

"Shira?" It was Jean, an inch or so from my face. I couldn't see him, but I could feel his breath on my face. It smelled like Sebastian.

I stretched an arm around him. "Hello. I'm sorry I fell asleep. Did I miss anything?" He snuggled against me, intertwining his legs with mine. I noticed he was hard.

"I wasn't sure whether it was okay to wake you up." He whispered. "I've been lying here for a while, wondering if it would be okay."

"It's absolutely okay," I murmured, sleepily stroking his back.

He pressed his lips against mine so softly and held them there, inhaling. Slowly, so slowly, he began to kiss. Tiny little presses, growing firmer. It was the sweetest kind of kiss I'd ever had. I felt the wet heat of his tongue flick out and draw a line along my closed mouth. It made me smile and press him closer. I parted my lips and caught his tongue with them, suckling. His heart was racing, thudding against my chest and I was unsure if it was fear or what, but the hard cock pressing up against my lower stomach suggested otherwise.

"I've never fucked a girl," Jean whispered.

"I know. You don't ever have to, Jean."

Was this still a leftover from last night? I wondered. It was a minefield, and I wasn't Sebastian. I considered telling him that fucking girls had nothing to do with being a man, but I had no idea if that would make him feel better or worse. And what did I know about being a man, anyway? I wasn't even sure I knew what being a woman was about. I decided to keep my mouth shut.

"I want to, though, with you. Not with anyone else. But with you. I love you, Shira."

"That's not the only way to love someone."

"I know," he said softy. "But I want to be with you the way you are with Sebastian. I want to know what that feels like."

I gave him a little kiss, partially missing his lips in the dark. "I don't love Sebastian. It's not the same."

"Touch me," he whispered, pulling my hand down onto his cock. "And I'll touch you. And we'll just see, okay?"

I nodded, encircling his cock with my fingers. I felt him feel for me, his fingertips brushed over my belly and squirmed between my thighs. I parted them for him and he pressed his leg between mine

It occurred to me that this was like being with a virgin. And having not ever been with one, I wasn't exactly sure of the protocol. I decided the best thing would be to just let him do whatever he felt like doing.

He hadn't forgotten anything Sebastian had taught him about pussies. And no matter how I stroked him, it didn't seem to affect his concentration. Certainly not the way it was affecting mine.

My juices soaked his hand. I stopped him for a moment to gather some of it on my own fingers and use it to stroke him. His hand returned to my mound.

"You're wet. I love it that you get slippery all on your own." I could hear the arousal in his whisper, the breathing that stuttered it.

"Not completely on my own. It's partially your fault," I whispered back, giggling, giving his cock a gentle squeeze.

"So... it's working."

I laughed softly. "Absolutely. Is it working for you?" There wasn't any need to ask. He was pumping his hips slowly, stroking his very hard cock through my slippery grasp.

But he answered anyway. "Yes. It's working just fine. I like the way you touch me. I like it a lot," he moaned.

His fingers were timid, careful, a studied replication of what Sebastian had shown him the day before. "Jean, are you like this with your male lovers?"

"No, not really. Why?"

I started moving my hips; I couldn't help myself. And his cock just slid so nicely through my fist. We were making lovely, wet, squelchy noises. "Well, why are you being so careful with me?"

"You're a girl. And...I don't know. You seem more delicate." He shuddered against me and grabbed my wrist. "Oh, Shira! Slower, please, or I'm going to come."

I eased off a little, holding him more loosely, feeling the ridge of his cockhead catch on my curled fingers. "We're not that delicate - I promise. Anyway, why don't you want to come?"

"Not like this. Let me fuck you."

I stopped stroking him. "Are you sure? Jean. Fucking is just...fucking. It's not that special."

He eased two fingers inside of me, making me catch my breath, and began to fuck me with them. My muscles fluttered around the penetration. His free hand circled the back of my neck, pulling my head towards his. "Don't you want to feel my cock inside you?"

"Oh! Fuck!" My body jerked. I whimpered, "Yes. Of course I do."

Jean kissed me hard, not like the usual, gentle Jean. "Thank you." He pulled his fingers out of me and reached behind him on the bed.

"Don't thank me," I whispered. "I've wanted to fuck you for ages and ages."

It suddenly struck me that Sebastian might be asleep now, but he was definitely going to wake up once we started. It made me wonder if that was half the issue with Jean suddenly worrying about what I thought his gender was. Could it really be that stupidly simple - all about comparisons?

"How would you like to do it?" Jean whispered. I could hear him fiddling with a condom, ripping the package open.

"Well, would you rather we do it front to back? You know... like you would with a guy?"

He giggled in the dark. "That's not the only way men do it, Shira. But no. I'd rather kiss you while we fucked."

It was the only way I'd ever seen them do it. It wasn't like I watched a lot of gay porn. "Well," I thought for a moment and then took a big breath. "Would you rather..." I was suddenly shy. I couldn't say it.

"Rather what?"

"Do what you do with Sebastian. I mean I will, if you want. I trust you." Did I? Did I really. Having made the offer, I was a little scared. I spread my legs, feeling him wriggle between them.

"Shira!" He pushed me onto my back and lowered himself on top of me. "No. No!" he murmured kissing me. "I want to be in you like a man, with you like a man." Then he did something no one I'd ever been with before had done. He hooked his arm under my knee and kind of tilted me up. I felt strange, wide open.

"Jean, you're a man, no matter how we fuck. Or if we..."

But he'd already angled himself and pushed into me, deep, fast. He gasped and held himself there. "Oh, god. Shira," he whispered. Bending over, he kissed me again, panting.

I could feel him inside me, twitching. Not like Sebastian. He didn't hurt. He felt wonderful, just perfect. Just right. My cunt fluttered around his shaft. "M-mm. You feel good! You do!" I purred, smiling against his lips, and began to move. A lovely wave of pure joy washed over me.

"Say it," Jean said as he started to fuck me.

"Uh...say what?" I moaned but it turned into a giggle.

"Fuck me. Say it!"

I laughed and grabbed his hips, digging my fingers into his ass. "Fuck me!"

Jean groaned and then giggled. "Say 'harder, faster, baby'!"

I snickered, even as a warm glow of pleasure surged up my spine as he pushed into me again. "Harder! Faster!" I was laughing now, and so close to coming. "Baby? Why?"

He thrust harder, and faster. "Isn't that what... isn't that what hetero couples say when they fuck?"

"Only... only in porn," I panted. He was twisting his hips in the most amazing way.

"Mm-m. So what do they really say?"

"They...say..." I buried my face into his neck as I started to come. One arm around his shoulder, holding him tight, my hips bucking up to meet his. "Come with me," I whimpered, shaking. "Come with me, please! Jean!"

His thrusts grew rough and staggered, sinking into me and stopping for a moment each time. "Now?" His cock twitched hard, again and again.

"Now!"

He cried out and covered my mouth with his, gasping, hips shuddering first. His whole lean body spasmed as he came. I held him tight, feeling every twitch of the dying orgasm light up my nerve endings.

We were panting, lying still, when I heard Sebastian's moan. The bed rocked softly. He was masturbating.

"Sebastian?" I whispered.

"Yes..." His breath was ragged. I could tell he was right on the edge.

"Do you want to join us?" asked Jean.

"Uh...no...yes!"

I could hear the slick rhythmic sound as he wanked with fast, hard strokes. His breath hitched and hitched again. It was a strange feeling, knowing that he'd been listening to us, feeling us, and not with us. I felt sad, lonely, and somehow guilty. As if we'd betrayed him.

"Come here," said Jean, softly, pulling out of me, moving. Even in the blackness, I could tell his was reaching for Sebastian.

But the bed shook as he groaned and jerked, coming on his own, in the dark.

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