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Josh smiled. “Okay, sweet. I get you to myself until Damon finishes cooking what will inevitably be way too much food. Once, he made pasta and literally used the whole packet. It was…so much pasta.”
Leo snorted. “How did that even fit in one pot? That shit expands like crazy.”
“Oh, he used three. It was a big packet of pasta.”
They giggled into each other, stopping when Damon appeared over the back of the couch. He was holding a spatula, wearing nothing but an apron and smelling obscenely of sex and the three of them.
“What are you laughing about? I heard my name.”
Josh grinned at him mischievously. “Just about how big and strong you are.”
Leo muffled a snort, looking at Damon appreciatively. “You’re so good to us, Alpha.”
Damon visibly tensed at the epithet. Josh laid his head on Leo’s shoulder, stretching over him, clearly teasing Damon with his body.
Leo fluttered his eyelashes. “Alpha?” he said breathily, laying it on, but it had its effect.
Damon disappeared, a clatter of pans and frantic rustling coming from the kitchen as Josh and Leo grinned happily at each other.
“Let’s go hide,” Josh whispered, clutching Leo’s hand and yanking him towards the bedroom.
“Closet.” Leo pointed, and they scuttled inside, closing the door carefully.
There was a moment of tense silence, and then Damon was throwing the closet door open, staring down at them with an exaggerated frown. “You think I can’t find my mates during rut?”
Everything went very, very quiet except for Leo’s heart, which started pounding loudly in his ears.
Mates. Not mate, singular. Mates.
Leo had experienced a lot of panic attacks, especially when he was a kid, but each one felt brand new. He was breathing, but he couldn’t breathe. He was standing up, but he couldn’t move. Everything was like a roaring river inside him, rushing past, sweeping him along mercilessly as he gasped for air.
“Sorry,” Damon was saying, voice sounding like an echo in a giant room. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
And that was worse because of course he didn’t mean it. Damon was in rut and into the fantasy of having two mates, and Leo would never be good enough for something as perfect as this.
“I just—” Leo was trying to get some fucking air in his lungs. “I just need to go to the bathroom.”
Damon and Josh let him go, and Leo stumbled towards the washroom, closing the door behind him.
Fuck, God, he was so stupid. The last time he’d had a panic attack, the client had looked so…disgusted. Freaked out, like Leo had turned into some horrible, human creature in front of him instead of the perfect little toy he was supposed to be.
And he’d been doing so well for so long. Keeping it together, ignoring the nightmares, keeping his sister off his back, convincing himself and convincing himself and convincing himself that he was okay because he was okay, he was—
Leo wanted to crawl under something. Under a desk or a table or the blankets on a bed. But, nowhere to hide, he wedged himself under the sink and stared at the pretty, patterned blue-and-white tiles. There were outlines of boats and waves, a sea monster peeking out to his right.
He was okay. He was the dumbest person alive, but he was okay.
It took him a while, but he got his breathing under control. He was covered in sweat but felt too ridiculous to waste more time in the shower, splashing some cold water on his face instead.
He picked up all the pieces of himself that had fallen out, pressed them into a place where it hurt, and opened the bathroom door.
It was quiet in the apartment. Josh straightened from where he was sitting on the bed, Damon nowhere in sight.
“Hey…” Josh said tentatively.
Leo hated that he’d caused that uncertainty. “Hey. Uh, sorry ’bout that. Dizzy spell or something.”
Josh looked at him carefully. “Leo…we’re really sorry. We’ve obviously crossed a boundary—maybe several boundaries—and we’re really, really sorry.”
