Freddie shivers and his eyes slide all the way closed.
“That’s why we couldn’t do it, why we couldn’t be your best men or go to your wedding. We want you, Freddie Lester . . . like this . . .”
Ryker speeds up his hand. “We want you turned on andaching.”
Freddie grunts and tucks his nose into Ryker’s neck.
“And we want to be the ones who make it better, make you soar.”
I focus my attention on the crown of my cock trapped by my leg, using two fingers to rub over it, faster and faster, needing to be in time with Freddie.
“Make you explode, make you come all over yourself, and all over us.”
Freddie does. With a twist of Ryker’s wrist, he moans louder than we’ve heard before, louder than Freddie has ever been, and I step into the firing line to receive his cum on my trousers and shirt while finishing myself down the side of my leg.
Freddie slumps, boneless and breathing evenly.
We may not have talked, but I think we’ve worked the fight out of Freddie so we can.
15
Freddie
I stretch, run my hands over the flannelette sheet, and dig my toes into the mattress. I’m lying on my front, not my preferred sleeping position, but the weighted duvet pins me to the deepest memory foam I’ve ever had the pleasure of crashing out on.
Even the pillow beneath my head sinks to a comfortable depth and I’ve woken up without neck ache. Or back, or hip, oranyache. I’m warm and cozy, and every muscle, bone, and joint is perfectly supported.
It’s heaven.
I come awake with a gasp, blowing aside the brain fog to lift my face from the pillow. It smells of Liam, and then it hits me. This is Liam’s bed. His sheets are dark, but from the few beams of light poking through the blinds, I see they’re not black, maybe more blackberrywith the hint of purple bleeding through.
I sit up, then turn so I’m sitting with my back to the headboard—whichisblack—and tug the duvet up to my chin. They took my jeans and socks off but left my boxers and T-shirt on. Iremember telling Ryker once that I hated being in bed with my socks on and would rather endure potential frostbite than the sensation of socks on sheets.
He must’ve remembered, because they’re gone, and I twitch my bare toes.
Last night, Liam had . . . I take a moment, pull in a deep breath, then tell myself what he did . . . He sucked my cock. No, that doesn’t do it justice. He edged me, until I lost my sanity and fucked into his face to finish. A heat goes through me, followed by a chill. I sit here and let these waves go through me—startling clarity at what happened, then the fuzz of being pushed to the brink and it feeling so damn good.
Liam pushed my cum into Ryker's mouth and Ryker had moaned like it quenched an unbeatable thirst.
My cock starts to rise beneath the duvet, and I try to distract myself by looking around the room. I’m not jerking off in here thinking about the blow job, or Ryker coming in his trousers behind me, or Liam coming in his pants in front of me, or myself comingagain. It’s too much to think about.
Liam’s room is neat with his clothes and possession all hidden away in drawers and cupboards. There’s one photograph on his desk across from me. The silver frame sparkles like it’s encrusted with diamonds. It’s of us. Me, Ryker, and Liam. Except in most pictures we’ve taken over the years, I’ve been in the middle with the two brothers providing symmetry on either side, but in this one, Liam is central.
I can tell it’s him because there’s a matte black skull on his T-shirt, whereas Ryker prefers bright and punchy colours. But there are other clues too, like his stubble and his smile being a lot smaller than his brother’s. It reaches his eyes, though, and wrinkles the skin beneath a little. Ryker has his arm thrown over Liam’s shoulders, and I’m pressed up to him, the back of my head resting against his right pec, using it as a cushion.
We were twenty-three in that photograph and celebrating Liam’s acceptance into the police force.
He looks happy, and with a sinking in my stomach, I realise I’ve not seen Liam smile like that for years. I see the edges of glass around the picture, jagged and sharp, and realise it must’ve fallen over and smashed at some point. It’s out of place in his tidy room.
I stiffen at the sound of a voice. No, not a voice, butvoices. They’re coming from downstairs, but they’re too muffled to hear clearly. I spy my jeans folded on Liam’s desk chair, and my socks paired on top. There’s also a towel, and I know there’s a shower in the bathroom across the hallway.
I throw off the covers, grab my things, but pause in front of the door. Liam clearly prides himself on a neat and tidy room. I place my things on the floor and make the bed, smoothing the duvet out with my palms before fluffing the pillows.
It’s the least I can do after . . . after . . .deep breath. . .he sucked my cock so expertly, I’m pretty sure I blacked out for a few minutes. I should be embarrassed, and maybe I will be later, but the pleasure had been so exquisite, so all-consuming, and with Ryker gently kissing my cheek and encouraging me to let go, I feel like I did,completely.
I dart across the hallway to the bathroom, then lock the door. The voices pause for thirty-four seconds—I’m that on edge I count—then they resume, rumbling softly through the floor. The shower puts an end to the brothers’ baseline rumble, and I jump inside while the water’s still cold. I use their shampoo and shower gel, lathering my body until I smell of them. They wear different deodorants, but the base note of their scent is the same, and now I know why. Bergamot with extra spice. I smell like it now too, like theirs, and I stroke the rash on my neck from Liam before twisting one of the marks from Ryker on the other side.
My cock thickens, and I shake my head, streaming denials from my lips. A blast of cold water clears me of my lust, and I leave the shower with my teeth chattering before hastily drying off and getting back into my clothes. They stick to my wet skin, but I’m in a rush to get out of here, though not too much of a rush that I can’t search for a toothbrush.
