Theirs was a triangle without an apex, he mused as they moved around the bed, kissing and touching and making deep, rough noises. There were no words that he could use to describe their relationship; this troubled him because in the most of the best of times, he considered himself a master of words, and when they were together he could not find the right words.
Nothing was adequate, he realised, as he watched the way red hair fell upon his chest and stomach.
CJ kissed her way from Andi's hip to Toby's. Brown hair fell on top of the red for a brief moment, and Toby saw poetry in its wordless form.
At one time, he thought that he was in the middle, that he was the apex. But, time progressed and so did their relationship.
CJ was in the middle this time, taking Toby deep inside of her and holding onto him with desperate fingers. Behind her, Andi was making her own mark, exploring relatively uncharted territory despite CJ's weak protests.
Toby could feel Andi's fingers from inside. It was strange, but he did not reflect on it for long, because Andi was laughing and CJ was whimpering loudly, and their music pulled him even further from his grip on language and rational thought.
CJ cried out loudly, both of their names falling out in broken syllables repeatedly. Andi laughed; she said things. Toby couldn't hear any of it. The blood was rushing in his ears and he growled, tensing and then relaxing.
Even as they sat together in bed, sheets hanging loosely from their bodies as they sipped the good scotch from solid glass tumblers, Toby had trouble putting words to their situation.
