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"I was just getting ready to leave, and then I saw you," Trent said, tightening his arms around the young reptileman's neck. He'd started conversation with a handsome male just as he'd come down the stairs. It was never difficult for him.

Even now, did the night look promising? Maybe.

Shaide smiled down at him, flicking a lock of dark hair out of his smooth, green-scaled face. Trent was struck by his respectful, almost business-like manner.

"Well," he said, "I don't normally attend parties like this, but I need some relaxation. In a week I'm being transferred out to a prison colony in deep space..."

Trent paid little attention to what the dragonman was saying; he simply gazed up into his eyes warmly and swayed, dancing with him to the slow music. He was determined to go home with someone before the night was over, and yet, even though he was wrapped around a handsome soldier (some Shaide or Slade or whatever, he didn't quite catch the name), he was distracted. He still hadn't seen Rill come downstairs.

He'd been keeping an eye out for him-- at first absently, but as time progressed, with growing concern. It had been at least twenty minutes. He wondered if Rill was actually waiting for him up there, or if he was simply too ashamed to come down and face everyone. Neither was very pleasant to think about.

He nodded to Shaide, and continued to smile, while inside something began to stir in him again. Guilt, pressure, things he had felt inside the upstairs room. He thought that by walking away from Rill he could escape them, but he hadn't-- they only lingered and seemed to grow stronger as time passed. What a disturbing thought.

"So, if I might ask, what do you look for at get togethers like this?" the dragonman queried, breaking Trent out of his trance.

Now there was a question Trent could deal with. He grinned with his usual charming wit. "Well, if it's not for the dancing, and it's not for the music, then it must be something else," he said softly, pressing against Shaide's hard body.

Meanwhile, his mind shouted at him: "Rill is still up there, and so are Steven and that wolf."

And suddenly it all made sense. Would two big, horny men want to take 'compassion' on a poor cat who'd been taken advantage of by some nasty fox?

'You fucking better believe it,' he thought.

And then, gently, but with a growing urgency, he slid back from Shaide, leaving the strong body.

"Excuse me for just a moment, would you?" he asked politely, smiling up at him and hoping it didn't look too forced.

Shaide nodded. "I will wait right here for you," he said calmly, moving over to one of the couches.

Trent groaned inwardly. "Why do they always wait for me?" he muttered to himself. His world was becoming confused. He was feeling jealous for the first time he could remember, and he had to get away from it. Making his way to the stairs, he turned around to look and see if Shaide (or was it Slaide? Snaid, maybe?) was indeed waiting for him, when he bumped into someone.

He turned quickly, and saw Remmie standing before him. "Hi Rem," he said. "Excuse me, I'm in a hurry."

Remmie smiled slightly, and looked around. "Where's your cat friend?" he asked, calmly expressing no intention of moving out of Trent's way. "He leave or something?" His tone was kind, as usual, but there was an edge to it that sounded almost accusing.

Trent shook his head. "No, he... I left him. Upstairs."

The otter was quiet for a moment. He seemed to understand, and all at once his smile faded into a frown that looked both disappointed and annoyed. He patted Trent on the arm.

"Listen, I dunno how to say this, but you gotta stop doing this stuff to people. You keep dropping guys like this, hurting their feelings, and you're gonna get hurt one of these days."

Trent frowned back, and jerked his arm away from Remmie's touch. "Get off my case. Everyone does it. In fact, you're just the same as I am."

Remmie shook his head. "I don't hurt people. I make 'em feel good. I leave them better off than when I found them."

'So do I,' Trent wanted to say. He wanted to say how everything he did had a reason. He wanted to say that, if he hadn't left Rill, Rill would have left him, or hurt him eventually, or just bothered him until he was insane. But he couldn't say any of those things.

So instead he lashed out. "Why don't you... why don't you just go lick a paw or something!" he said bitterly, and walked past the otter, bumping against his shoulder and continuing on.

He did not look back as he made his way back up the stairs, back to the room, back to Rill, to his cat. His cat. By the time he reached the door, it dawned on him that this was exactly how he thought of Rill. As his cat.

* * *

Galinn, Rill and Steven lay on the bed together, in a mass of fur and muscle and limbs. Rill was on his back between them, hands placed behind his head, while both the leopard and the wolf were propped up on their sides, facing one another. It was a cozy little trio, they all agreed, wordlessly.

"I can't believe this. Two guys like you, and then me," Rill murmured, smiling, his eyes carrying a happy, though slightly distant look.

Galinn, who'd taken an immediate favoring to the Rill, a favoring which was only growing stronger, grinned broadly down at him.

"Hey, c'mon, you gotta believe in fate, y'know?" he said, nudging the feline muzzle lightly. "I don't do threeways, y'know? But this just worked out."

Rill laughed softly, and fixed a gaze on him. It was obvious that Galinn's feelings were returned from the cat. It was not a one-way street, but more of an eight-lane highway. Sparks were flying.

Steven's voice was quiet, and he sounded pleasant, though tired. "Unfortunately, I myself believe it's getting late."

"Awww," the other two said mildly (though nearly in unison, with similar inflections). Rill looked disappointed. "You leaving us?"

Steven smiled, but his fatigue was evident. "I'd only meant to drop in and say hello to some friends. I don't do threeways either, and I've been here much longer than I planned. Besides, I have to work tomorrow."

Galinn nodded. "You wanna keep in touch?" he asked with interest.

At these words the leopard's eyes widened slightly, and he chuckled. He hadn't expected to be asked that question so openly, but that was Galinn, obviously-- blunt, and up front.

"Yes," he said. "You?"

"Fuckin' A. Here," said the wolf, leaning down over his side of the bed. He bent over, and retrieved something from his jeans, which lay on the floor. He handed Steven a small slip of paper, not unlike a business card. Obviously he was prepared for this sort of occasion. "Gimmie a call anytime."

Accepting the card, Steven smiled. "Thank you," he said. He knew he would call, probably within the next few days, but something told him, something in the way Galinn and Rill were looking at one another, something also in the way they interacted, how they seemed to 'fit' together, that they might be a couple before long. But that was okay, Galinn and Rill seemed to be meant for each other, and that was such a rare thing. He took the number and set it on his pants.

Galinn's eyes lit up, and he glanced at both of his companions. "Hey."

They looked at him.

"You wanna come over my place?" he asked. His eyes glanced at both of them again, indicating the invitation was quite open to either. "Roommate's out for the week for a convention or somethin', so I got the whole apartment to myself."

Rill brightened. It was more than a smile; he was beaming. Though both of them suspected this sort of invitation had never been made to him, they were kind enough not to say so.

"Yeah dude," he said emphatically. "That's cool with me!"

Steven grinned. "If you can drive me to my place early tomorrow morning, you have yourself a third," he said. Remmie had driven him to the party, and he'd hoped he could find another way of getting home; he hated to impose on Remmie, he was just too sweet. "Maybe we could invite our otter friend a long, too. I'm sure he'd be thrilled to have three pairs of paws to play with."

Galinn shrugged, and nodded. "Fair enough, hot spots."

Rill found this deliciously funny, and he burst into quiet giggles. "H-huh-hot spa-ha-ha-ts," he uttered amid his laughter.

Steven grinned and tickled his sides, and this made him laugh harder. Somehow the laughter sounded pure, honest, moreso than anything any of them had heard all evening. Perhaps because there is no room for masks, pretense, or vanity in real laughter.

They all felt better.

Better, that is, until the door opened, quite abruptly, lacking the calmness and subtlty of the one who opened it. Trent stood there, his form hindering the lights from the hall, casting a long, charicatured silhouette onto the carpet.

Rill sat straight up almost immediately. His laughter died.

"T-Trent?" he asked, with a shocked, fear-stricken voice.

Trent walked into the room a few steps, and eyed the three of them on the bed. He did not look surprised, but rather as though his suspicions had been confirmed. He held out a hand.

"Rill..." he said quietly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for how I've treated you."

Unreality gripped Rill's heart. He had forgotten about Trent completely. He'd assumed he wasn't coming back, because of what Steven and Galinn had said. For a moment he wrestled with the thought that perhaps it wasn't Trent who was using him, but rather the wolf, and the leopard.

Of course that was an absurd thought, and it took Rill approximately three seconds to make a decision. Casting Galinn a pleading glance, he began to get up.

The wolf did not look angry, nor did he look indifferent. He only looked tired and slightly sad. Tired, and sad. "Go on, man, if you gotta," he whispered. "It was... it was nice meetin' ya."

"Real ni--" A gentle finger was placed over Galinn's lips, silencing him. Rill winked at Galinn once, shaking his head. He withdrew his finger, and climbed off of the bed, approaching Trent.

Breathing an audible sigh of what sounded like great relief, Trent met Rill halfway, and wrapped his arms around him tightly. Rill's response was, at best, half-hearted, but he did hug the fox back.

As Trent slipped out of the hug, he looked over the still-naked feline, and smiled. "I'm sorry for being so cruel to you. I truly mean that. Now, how about we dump street trash and the leather queen, and go somewhere else? Does that sound nice?" he asked, touching one of Rill's ears lightly. His references to the wolf (street trash) and Steven (leather queen) had been cruel, but he spoke them in a brazen manner that made it sound all the more cold and insensitive.

Rill smiled back, and said, "Okay, then I guess we're leavin'." He stepped out of the hug, and glanced over to Galinn and Steven just as he finished the sentence. They both smiled knowingly. Rill had spoken not to the fox, but to them, his friends. His real friends.

Had Trent heard the discussion that had taken place just before he entered, he might have caught on. But he hadn't, so he didn't. "Alright," he said. "So where do you want to go?"

Caught by a sudden burst of inspiration, Rill patted Trent's shoulder.

"Well," he said, grinning broadly. "Me, Street Trash, and Leather Queen are goin' home to have some fun. You can do whatever ya want."

Roles reversed. Trent felt the impact of it sink into him with all the force of a baseball socking into the palm of a catcher's mitt. Three strikes. You're out. Out of the game, buddy. He sat down heavily on the couch, in nearly the same spot Rill had fallen into less than an hour ago, and watched as the three of them dressed. He wasn't really surprised, not after he thought about it. Remmie was right; he'd dropped the wrong guy, and he was paying for it.

Steven left first, informing the other two that he was going to let Remmie know he wouldn't need a ride home. Galinn and Rill took longer to get ready, which was surpring, considering all the extra clothes Steven had to put on. Finally, both dressed, the wolf and the cat walked, hand in hand, toward the door.

As they made their way out, Trent found his voice. It was a bitter, cold one, but a voice nonetheless.

"None of you can expect any sympathy from me when you come crying back, alone. Especially you," he said, glaring at Rill. His voice and his tone were that of an adult, but his face, his expression was very clear; he was unaccustomed to being denied what he wanted, and it was bothering him. In other words, he was a spoiled brat, and he was throwing his form of a tantrum.

Rill, however, was bothered by it, and he looked away as if he'd been slapped. They stopped walking.

Galinn looked down at Rill, smiling to him. Then, as if Trent weren't even there, he stroked the soft feline cheek affectionately, and said, "Aww, you don't gotta worry about that. I'm never gonna make you cry."

With a pair of innocent, adoring eyes, Rill gazed up at the wolf. He slid an arm around his waist, and Galinn rested one over Rill's shoulders. The two of them walked out, and closed the door behind them.

Darkness swallowed everything up once again, but, unlike before, this was a lonely darkness. An empty darkness. This was the same darkness that had gripped Rill, only now it belonged to Trent.

Trent sat alone in it until he was sure it would suffocate him. Rejection burned in his heart. He was missing out. He'd lost his chance with Rill, and for some reason that disturbed him immensely. He couldn't even talk to Remmie about it; he'd blown him off pretty good on the stairs.

With a soft sigh, he tried to shrug off the envy and pain. He stood up, and walked quietly out of the room. Shaide was undoubtedly still waiting for him downstairs (the honest ones always would), so at least he would obtain his goal-- he would have a ride home. He would get his fucking ride home.

And maybe he would stop getting so attached to his toys. Emotions did funny things when he let them interfere with really great sex. Emotions only seemed to grip and strangle him. It really wasn't worth the trouble to have them in the first place.

After all, he could have anything he wanted, with just a little desire, a stoke of luck, and a touch of vanity.

All at once Trent felt better, because as usual, the night was promising.