Instead of answering, Dylan followed suit and stripped down to his boxers, which were quite the opposite of Rus’. Dylan had always preferred bigger, breezier underwear, so he often went with the large plaid pairs that Kaiden swore were toxic top undies. But Dylan refused to believe underwear determined someone’s sexual proclivities. Although he did attempt to recall what position boxer briefs were according to meme culture. Just for a potential heads-up with Rus, one day, someday, maybe. His tan skin revealed no hidden tattoos or piercings. A few scars here and there, but Rus didn’t linger long on any of them as he studied Dylan’s form.
And yes, Dylan studied Rus’ expression as they took in each other’s nearly naked bodies.
“I’m beat,” Kaiden announced, exiting the bathroom in his dress shirt and boxers. He gently placed his corset vest on the nearby desk and hung his slacks over the back of the chair.
Rus didn’t say anything about the shirt, but Dylan knew Kaiden hated being seen without something to cover his stomach, his chest, his body.
“Dear God, what are those, and where can I get a set?” Rus eyed the elastic straps wrapped around Kaiden’s thick thighs.
The muscles of Kaiden’s legs flexed a bit as he showed off one of the straps before unfastening it. They hung on his thighs and clipped to his dress shirt, keeping it smoothed out.
“They’re called shirt stays.”
“How in the hell can something be so appealing and have such an ugly name?” Rus shook his head disapprovingly.
“I don’t know.” Kaiden slipped the shirt stays off and set them beside his corset vest on the desk. He put his dress socks into the soles of his dress shoes and tucked them under the desk. “I think they were also called shirt garters back in the day.”
“Ugh, such a better name, but not nearly slutty enough.”
They all laughed at that, silently staring at each other, and perhaps all pondering better names for Kaiden’s accessories. At least Dylan contemplated potential names.
“All right,” Dylan said, climbing into the bed. “We ready for sleep?”
“Yes,” Kaiden said. “Eternal if possible.”
“Best I can offer is midafternoon,” Rus said with a chuckle.
“Deal.” Kaiden slid into the bed, scooting close to Dylan and then apologizing before scooching away some. “I’m a tosser and turner, so sorry in advance.”
“It’s all good,” Dylan said, leaving out the bit that this didn’t come close to his worst sleeping accommodations. It didn’t seem like an appropriate time to make a silly anecdote about sleeping in the back of a car or on someone’s floor or that one stormy night in a cemetery crypt.
“I sleep like a corpse, so you could literally slap me, and I’d snooze through it,” Rus declared.
That almost encouraged Dylan to drop his anecdote, but he could tell everyone needed actual rest, instead of idle chitchat before bed.
Kaiden passed out from sheer exhaustion, and Rus seemed to have the annoyingly uncanny ability to just will himself to sleep immediately, which left Dylan awake and alone with histhoughts for well over an hour, with the boys on either side of him.
Dylan watched Kaiden’s breathing, taking in every second with his friend, and letting the worry of the night slowly wash away. Guilt still gnawed at him, doubt pressed to his mind, and he couldn’t help but think of all the ways he failed Kaiden. He should’ve jumped in and fought alongside Rus when the men attacked. He should’ve gotten help faster. He should’ve raced in once he returned with help. Still, Dylan dwelled on every misstep of the evening, and his mind filled him with horrible scenarios of what could’ve been.
Kaiden could’ve died. Rus could’ve died.
Those thoughts twisted knots in Dylan’s stomach.
Rus had slowly wormed his way into Dylan’s heart, a curiosity that Dylan wanted to explore. A guy Dylan wanted to know more. A potential…somethingDylan wanted to make sense of.
All the same, Rus came second to the budding thoughts blossoming in Dylan’s overactive mind.
Kaiden kept coming into frame. The worry Dylan had sent a shiver through him. Dylan couldn’t fathom life without Kaiden. And as his friend slept beside him, Dylan’s mind started wandering to what life with Kaiden looked like.
He’d never seen Kaiden as more than a friend. Occasionally, he’d seen Kaiden as a potential fuck buddy—but that never seemed like something Kaiden would go for, and Dylan didn’t have a great history with casual sex. It usually messed with his friendships.
Still, Dylan’s imagination wandered with ways he could have Kaiden in his life as something more. It was a confusing thought experiment, but it certainly helped tire out his overactive brain, allowing him to get a few hours of sleep.
Chapter Eight
Throbbingpain woke Kaiden early in the morning, finding the sharp pain of his cuts hadn’t lessened with sleep. A terrible creak in his neck made him wonder if he’d slept funny or had taken one too many blows to the head last night. Speaking of, his headache hit hard, and he wished to blame the booze, but knew it was another reminder of the beating he’d taken.
Oh, how Kaiden wished he’d drunk more last night. Enough to perhaps dull the pain of the attack, enough to excuse his stupidity. Why had he gone along with James? Was that even his real name? Unlikely. Kaiden wished he had something to drink now, something to wash away the memories of last night, something to turn his brain into a blurry stew.
