#mmmm gotta love a little bit of toxicity early in the... *checks clock* afternoon

[bates--boy]

Peter wasn't going to fool himself into thinking this was a good idea, especially an idea that went against the beliefs about marriage or romantic partnership he held since he was a church-reared, romance-novel-consuming little boy. That belief rooted in monogamy. But it still felt right in those moments when Naseem teased him in all the right ways that made him see stars, or brought him back to earth with his tenderness. When Naseem drove common sense out of Peter's head with those divine eyes, it was easy for Peter to convince himself that "feeling right", especially with people he trusted, was all he needed.

           But he wasn't straddling Naseem's lap or curled up in Naseem's arms this time; he wasn't being unraveled thread by thread under Naseem's demanding tongue and teeth and fingertips, teased and toyed with until he didn't even know the concept of inhibitions and guilt anymore.

          He was seated properly and respectfully on the Okoye's sofa, feeling so much like a junior high schooler waiting for his date to his first ever prom, instead of a fully grown man (pushing eighty, to be exact) here to... negotiate the terms of a polyamorous marriage. Yes, that was the energy going on here: a business deal. Naseem sitting to his right, back straight but shoulders relaxed, with his arms crossed loosely. Ashira sitting to his left, also back straight but legs crossed and hands folded over her knees -- her presence the neutralizing factor in this meeting, her manner so... pragmatic. And nothing served better to sober up a man hungry for adventure and physical touch than pragmatism.

          That wasn't to say that Ashira was unattractive and cold. Since Peter was basically given permission to look at Naseem's wife, Peter looked. He was not going to feel shame for somewhat openly appreciating the softness of Ashira's thighs, which he could tell through the leggings she wore, her hourglass waist that tempted Peter to agree to this deal just so he'd be able to wrap his arms around her and feel how well they’d fit together, and that slender neck with the glowing skin that Peter wanted to mark with his lips and teeth just as Naseem did to his so many times. It was her no-nonsense, businesslike smile that curbed the feeling that Peter was a kid in a toy store, reminding him that they were talking about...

          Holy shit, their now open marriage. That they want Peter to join in.

          “I imagine that you have a lot of questions about this,” Ashira started them off, watching the way Peter picked at the ends of his braided ponytail that he had draped over his shoulder despite the way he also tried to sit up straight and confident.

          Yes, Peter did have a lot of questions about this, and he was so glad for this atmosphere that let his head stay clear so he could think of at least a few of them. He reached for the cup of tea sitting on the table in front of them, part of the lunch Ashira insisted on making since Naseem was skipping his lunch break for this and the kids’ naps freed up Ashira’s time. She even made the tamriyeh that Peter was starving for, after Tommy the greedy bastard ate the last batch yesterday.

          He peered into the translucent reddish tea, swirling the tea leaves and letting them fall back into the bottom. “Yeah. I would like to know how this is going to work?”

          Ashira shrugged. “From our understanding of it, it would work like any other romantic partnership.. with maybe some boundaries. Like, obviously the legal boundaries.”

          Like a joint bank account or sharing in bills, or making medical decisions for their comatose partner -- Peter figured as much. He nodded. “So... what would it look like for us? What is it going to be like?”

          “We can’t predict the future, sweets,” Naseem said, reaching over to rub Peter’s knee. “But right now, we feel that it’s going to just be the three of us.”

          “And we’ll have to figure out what’s working and not working along the way,” Ashira said, her eyes darting to Naseem’s hand and back up to Peter’s eyes.

          Peter nodded again, taking a sip of his tea and trying desperately to cool the burning on his cheeks when Ashira placed her hand on his back and caressed it up and down. Calm, cool, collected, businesslike meeting. He forced himself to remember that and ignore the electricity that zipped up and down his spine. He lowered the cup. He wondered if the next question should be brought up at all, considering this was possibly a boundary already drawn and he had no legal right over this aspect. Still, concern won over reservations and he asked, “...And the kids? Do you think they’ll be affected by this?”

          “’Course they will be!” Naseem patted his knee jovially. Seeing the tight-lipped frown on Peter’s face, Naseem added, “But it wouldn’t be that much different than before. It’ll just be Uncle Peter coming around more, spending the night because he’s part of the family instead of pulling writing all-nighters. Hell, you’d just become their second dad.”

          “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” Ashira cut in quickly as she looked over Peter’s shoulder at her husband. “But... I will agree that you would probably be closer to the kids, and around more. Which is good, because Pakiza misses you like crazy whenever you leave.”

          Parenthood. Semi-parenthood. An uncle with an overnight bag. Or closet space in the master bedroom. Peter could imagine it: buying birthday gifts, staying long enough to read them bedtime stories instead of immediately slinking off home when babysitting duties were done. Sitting at their bedsides and administering cough syrup and cold compresses when the darlings were sick. Picking them up from school whenever Ashira and Naseem were too busy to come by. Peter’s face flushed anew with these beautiful possibilities, these beautiful scenes of partial domesticity that would have brought tears to his eyes if he weren’t fighting like hell to keep his emotions in check.

          “Well, I do miss her like crazy, too,” Peter said after clearing his throat. “How will we, ah... divide the time or attention, or...” he gestured with one hand, hoping that they understood his question in a way that didn’t sound like a custody agreement.

        “That’s also something that we’ll have to work on overtime,” Naseem replied. “It’ll depend on what we’re in the mood for or how open all of our schedules are. But know this...” Naseem leaned in, gingerly rubbing his face in Peter’s neck and kissing that damn sensitive spot underneath Peter’s ear. “We’re gonna woo you like crazy.”

        Ashira snorted. “And we expect you to do the same.”

        Of course, Peter had almost said before backtracking, remembering that he hadn’t even said yes, yet. He waited until Naseem lifted his head away to breathe. “...Right. Okay. Basically, everything is left to fate.”

        “Basically,” Ashira said. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

        Plenty. It was getting hard to find any questions to ask in the fog Naseem kept conjuring with his displays of affection, but there was one that stood clear and true no matter what, one that had tightened Peter’s throat just thinking about it: Why me? Naseem gave his reason when Peter asked a similar question in the kitchen, when Peter was so terrified for the marital welfare of his friends that he physically quaked with illness. At first, Peter had wanted to ask so he would get an answer without all of that waxing poetic or whimsical flights of fancy, like collecting answers for a survey. But now, after thinking about the question and having it sit right on his lip, he realized that he didn’t want to ask it at all.

        Asking it would mean asking himself what answers he was looking for, and he truly didn’t know what he was looking for. Asking the question would mean that he was feeding his fear of abandonment, readying himself to put some distance between himself and these two in place if he found even one sign of shit going south, an absolutely terrible way to begin a romantic relationship.

        And honestly: why did he even need to ask at all? Why can’t it be that these two beautiful, intelligent, supportive, well-read, sexy big dreamers who opened their home to him are into him simply because they are?

        Peter stopped his thumb from rubbing along the lip of the teacup, glad that he had caught himself in the act before breaking the fine glass, and set it on the table. He shook his head. “I, ah, I think that would be all...”

        “Great.” Ashira stopped her hand in the middle of Peter’s back, angling her head inquisitively. “So, what do you think? Would you like to try this out with us?”

        “Er, I...”

        Yes, because their touch drove him crazy, and when something made him feel alive, he knew it was the right thing for him. Yes, because it meant he would have a second home. Yes, because he could play second father to Pakiza and Hasan even with all of the other avenues of fatherhood was closed to him. Yes, because he trusted these two. Yes yes yes, because even in this most unconventional of ways, this was everything Peter could have ever asked for.

        Except...

        “I... need more time to think about it,” Peter said, kicking himself for still looking a gift horse in the mouth. But he knew he needed more time, anyway, to really think this through before he took any leaps.

        The corner of Ashira’s lip quirked up. Her hand, so soft and artistically shaped, moved from his back to his knee to give it a gentle pat. “It’s okay, Pete, take all the time you need. There’s no rush.” She craned her neck to peer into the hallway. “I’m going to check on Hasan. But first, I have to ask...”

        She looked at Peter. “Do you mind if I...?”

        Peter could see it in the swift change of her eyes, feel it in the way her hand glided firmly up his knee to his thigh, crawling up his stomach to his chest.

        He was going to say no. Not because he sincerely did not want to (and Christ, did he want to; Sheer’s rocking cherry-flavored lip gloss that he could smell from where he sat and he wanted her tongue down his throat now), but because if Peter was going to think through this decision with a leveled head, he needed to do this without his libido constantly pushed to one-hundred-twenty. But she already had her fingers hooked on his collar and she was already tugging him slowly toward her, and Peter had to reason with himself that he might as well. He had already let her husband kiss him. And hold him. And caress him. And grope him. And dry hump him. And nearly give him a blow job.

        Of course, Sheer and Nazz would kiss differently. Peter was only surprised that Sheer would kiss in this way.

        Like Naseem, Ashira began chastely, sensing how easily high strung Peter would become if the sparks flew too soon. But then, she demanded. She pried Peter’s mouth open wider, coming right in when Peter gasped. And even in her demanding way, she was careful and methodical, examining every bit of space that she claimed, as well as examining the way Peter’s tongue and mouth and teeth moved, and she moved her tongue in a way that Peter had a word for but he couldn’t think of because his head was crackling with electricity, and he fucking loved how demanding she is and her hand was sliding back down -- directing.

        She was directing him, instructing him. She was pushing his tongue up the roof of her mouth and coaxing it back and forth along the gentle ridges; she was nipping at his bottom lip and then bringing her lip up to his upper teeth, expecting him to do it the same way with the same intensity. She was keeping their lips locked to the point of breathlessness, until finally, finally, he did everything right and she finally moaned.

        It was soft and low, muffled by his tongue and lips, but his mouth filled with cherry and jasmine tea with two sugars, and a tempting offer he couldn’t refuse. He knew he hit all the marks Ashira wanted in this one long kiss because he felt her digging her nails into his thigh, so very close to the sweet spot.

        They pulled apart, and Peter knew he had to get away quickly because with the heat in Ashira’s eyes and he cheeks, he was tempted to do everything she wanted.

        “...Alright,” Ashira said. She stood, straightened her clothing, and walked past the men to get to the hall. She called over her shoulder as she went, “I’ll be back and we can finish lunch.”