Page 54 of Loverboy

He grew silent, though the defiant look remained along with the intoxicated flush of his cheeks. We both knew this was just another outlet for his self-destructive tendencies, and I wasn’t about to let him go off the deep end again, even if I was the cause.

“I can do casual,” he muttered. “I’m casual as fuck.”

“Milo.”

“What?” he asked sadly, his expression turning vacant. “I just wanna feel something.”

Guilt hit hard, an indescribable ache filling my chest. I wanted nothing more than to make him feel okay again, and I’d do anything to take away the hurt. He moved too quickly, always trying to fill the gaping hole with anything that vaguely looked like it might fit.

I was always too late and never what he wanted.

The thought of something else filling that void was more than I could take. Not Oliver. Not another girl. If we hadn’t chosen to define ourselves as brothers, if we had never taken him in, would he have had the chance to see me as someone who could fill the gaps others had left?

I was desperate enough to take what little I could, even if it was all wrong now.

“If you’re looking for a distraction,” I said, the words feeling mangled and foreign on my tongue. “I can do it.”

“What do you mean?” He laughed nervously.

The confusion was written all over his face, as if I were speaking a foreign language. He didn’t get it. If the options were me or some random girl at the party that would inevitably spiral out into another year or two of pain for him, it was going to be me.

It had to be me.

I wedged my knee between his legs, prying them apart.

“Let me help you,” I coaxed, watching the way his mouth fell open as I began gently grinding my thigh back and forth, testing just how much he’d let me get away with.

“Stop screwing with me, Jas—”

“How many times do I need to tell you to quit being so goddamn bratty?” I interrupted, gripping his chin between my thumb and my index finger. “Get yourself off right here. I’ll make sure you don’t fall in love with the first girl who lets you in her pants.”

“I can’t.” He shook his head in my grasp.

“Can’t, or won’t?” I leaned in close enough for our breath to mingle.

“I’m not gonna ride my brother’s fucking leg.”

Brother, he said, like we hadn’t always been something deeper than siblings.

I released his chin to grab his hips, forcing him to ride my thigh. His cock responded to the friction, the outline of an erection forming in his sweats that matched my own. I’d been half-hard since the moment I tasted him on that fucking coffee table.

“Would it be less humiliating if I fucked you instead?” My voice dropped low.

“Oh my god, no—seriously, Jasper, we can’t…”

I bit down on his ear and was quickly rewarded with a sharp inhale. His body shuddered against mine, and I pressed into him harder, afraid he’d slip away at any moment.

“Take what you need from me.” I soothed the sting of the bite with my tongue. “What else are brothers for?”

“You’re sick,” he rasped.

“So are you.”

For someone who always had something to say, he was speechless now, wide-eyed and red-faced. It was just us, the sound of his laboured breathing, and the thumping of music beyond the door I had him pinned against.

If he really wanted me to stop, he would have put up more of a fight. Those trembling hands wouldn’t have found my shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt while his hips began to move on their own, enough that I could ease up my hold on him if I wanted to.

I didn’t.