I dragged my eyes up his chest and his neck as I prepared to enter her. I didn’t mean to do it but I couldn’t help it. He looked like Jules. Exactly like Jules. He looked like the person I knew better than anyone else on the planet, but at the same time, he looked like someone I’d only just met. I felt a sense of delirium as I slid into the warm wetness of her. She moaned, and so did I. My eyes traveled farther up, up, up. His jaw was set. Strong. His lips were pulled back slightly, showing a hint of clenched teeth.

I lost myself as I started to thrust. I must have, because as I slid into her, I looked at Jules. Straight into his eyes. They’d been screwed shut a second ago, but now they were open. His lids were hooded and heavy, but he was looking at me. Into me. Hazel green met ice blue and fused together. The second our eyes met, something broke open inside me and ripped a harsh sound from my chest. I moaned long and loud. Lower than usual. Lower than any sound I’d made before. Storm’s body encased me snugly. I felt secure and at home. I liked knowing Jules was at home in her too. I wasn’t expecting to like it; in fact, I was expecting to hate it. But believe me, I liked it.

I thrust into her harder and when I did, she lurched forward and took Jules deeper into her mouth. He made a soft, lost sound. The second I heard it, I wanted to hear it again. I thrust into her over and over, harder and harder, to make Jules make that sound again. I did it until he started to quiver, and his movements grew jerky. I didn’t stop. I thrust into Storm until Jules came.

From that second, I was lost. I was gone. Lost to the world. Storm came too, and then I did. We paused for a while and then the three of us started moving again. We found our rhythm and we fucked to it until we were totally spent. We switched positions at some point, and I lost myself even more. By the end, we were nothing more than a hot, sweating mass of limbs and hair with Storm in the middle, Jules on her left, and me on her right.

When we walked home that night, Jules and I were walking a dangerous tightrope between things feeling weirdly comfortable and exceedingly awkward.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, “that was intense.”

I didn’t say anything, but I nodded.

“Fuck me . . .” he said again, but before he continued, I cut him off.

“Given what we’ve just been through, bud, I think you should choose your words a little more carefully.”