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What the fuck was happening?
They were in my living room. Dash talked about commitment. Tristan had to get out of the place he was staying in. And I felt so off-balance, I almost reached out to Dash to help steady me.
A relationship? A fucking relationship with two men? What… How… Why?
“Oh my god,” I finally breathed out and bent at the waist, putting my hands above my knees.
If we were going to be something, I had to tell them both about my father and Jordan. My mom should meet them. What if they wanted me to stop dancing? What if they tried to control me? Was I considering being in a relationship with them? The last time I fell in love, I was a freshman in college and stupidly thought the football player I was with would come out for me. Wrong. He broke my heart when I saw him publicly kissing a girl.
I sucked in another breath, only it wasn’t deep enough, and the room spun. I swayed, but before I could fall over, Dash was there, wrapping his arms around me. He scooped me up and carried me to the couch where he sat, placing me on his lap. I quickly buried my face against his chest, not wanting him to see me like this again.
Panic attacks sucked. There was never a good time to have one. Some of mine were triggered. Crowds, walking alone atnight, alleyways. I had things I hated. One of Jordan’s men looked out for me. That didn’t mean shit couldn’t still happen. I had the trauma to prove it. While they provided a sense of security, they couldn’t always get there fast enough. If someone distracted them, it was even longer to get to me.
Some of my panic attacks, I couldn’t figure out why I had them. Those were frustrating. It was easier to limit triggers. When the breath was robbed from my lungs out of nowhere and I felt like I was going to pass out, I hated not knowing why. I couldn’t prevent it from happening again if I had no idea why it occurred in the first place.
“I’ve got you, angel,” Dash soothed. His hand went to my arm to stroke it up and down. The smooth metal of his rings glided effortlessly over my skin, comforting me in a way I hadn’t expected. Maybe it wasn’t the rings. Maybe it was the man wearing them.
Then there was another touch. A soft brush of a hand against my back as the seat beside us dipped, causing Dash to shift slightly. I shuddered at the sensation of both of their hands on me. I craved more and tried burrowing deeper, but there was only so far I could go.
“Do you want to do it like last time?” Dash asked softly.
I nodded, afraid to lift my head and look into his eyes. Judgment wouldn’t be there, but would pity? I was a grown man, curled in a ball on another man’s lap. It was mind-boggling how he could still want me like that after seeing me have a panic attack.
Dash carefully leaned me away from him as he stripped off his shirt. I did the same without looking, focusing on my hands. “Would you like Tris to join us?”
“If he wants,” I whispered. I wouldn’t ask him to do something he wasn’t comfortable with.
“Tris?”
“What are we doing?” Tristan asked.
“Romeo likes skin-to-skin when he has a panic attack. Has it always been this that soothes you?” he asked me.
“No, you were the first time.” I wasn’t certain why it worked like it did with him. I also wasn’t questioning it. Anything to make my panic go away when it got bad was a blessing, not a curse. After feeling his bare chest against mine that night, I wanted it again, and not just when I was panicking.
Dash nodded. “The only other time I’d interacted with Romeo was like this, but in the club. I was so drawn to him, and not because of this. It was the way he danced on stage. Then to see him after… he wasn’t just a dancer; he was a beautiful man who I wanted to hold and soothe. Who I wanted to be there for, like it was one of the most important things I’d ever do.” Dash let out a slow breath. “If you’d like to take your shirt off too, Tris, and wrap around him from behind, we can surround him and let him feel how much we care.”
“You barely know me,” I muttered.
“And you barely know me, yet you asked me if I wanted to move in,” Tristan countered. He had a point.
Dash positioned me so I was still on his lap, my back to Tristan. I could lean forward and press my face to Dash’s neck while he wrapped one of his arms around me. The hard flex of his bicep as he held me tight comforted me in ways I didn’t know I needed. My fingers went to his stomach and traced over his abs. Each dip, each rise, I felt them all, trying to calm my racing heart and slow my breath with the simple touch.
Warmth suddenly surrounded me from behind as Tristan brought his arm around me too. These men, I couldn’t believe they were doing this for me. They didn’t question why the panic attack happened. They simply held me.
It took a few minutes of going through breathing exercises with Dash before I relaxed. Although that wasn’t the right word.Really, I melted against him while I gripped Tristan’s arm to bring him with me so the three of us could stay connected.
“Doing better?” Dash whispered, not trying to move me off him or rush me to feel better.
“I’m—”
“Don’t. Never apologize for this, nor should anyone expect that.”
“Your family member,” I said, remembering what he’d told me in the VIP room at the club.
“It’s not my story to tell, but since I want to build something with you two and it might be something you witness, it’s my brother who has anxiety. You won’t see it on stage, but off, he has panic attacks.”
“Like me. I’m fine on stage, usually.” I smiled, remembering the night I danced and saw Dash for the first time in person. Listening to their music for years and seeing the band up close was a unique experience, a much better one.
