Chapter 18 Hanlon
Hanlon
Tonight has not gone as planned. Stone is having a hard time breaking out of his shell and admitting what he wants. Hell, maybe he really doesn’t know, but he’s never going to find out until he starts putting himself out there.
When I come out of the bathroom, he’s at the bar. An attractive man is getting handsy, and Stone isn’t punching him in the face, so maybe he’s into him.
I ignore the sting of jealousy welling inside me because it’s entirely misplaced. Stone can never be more than what he’s always been to me because our family wouldn’t survive it.
No, this man at the bar is doing me a favor.
If I’m going to withstand the rest of this internship, working under Stone all day and living under his roof at night, I need him to find a man he’s into because that’s a line I’d never cross, no matter how much I want him for myself.
If he belongs to someone else, then I can get this sick attraction out of my head and move the fuck on.
Maybe if I know he’s taken care of, I won’t feel like I need to be the one to do it.
That’s a lie.
I’ve taken care of Stone just as much as he’s taken care of me.
Even when he left me, I still covered for him with our parents. I never told them he left without saying goodbye. I lied and told them we talked weekly, so they wouldn’t give him shit about hurting my feelings.
Even in my fucking career choice, I’m drawn to the need to protect him.
Which is why, when I see him flinch and stiffen as the guy at the bar presses into him and slips a hand in his front pocket, I don’t stop to think about what I’m doing; I simply act.
Squeezing in between the patrons at the bar, I make my way toward Stone and the mystery man. I don’t stop until I’m right in front of Stone.
“Do you want him?” I ask quickly and quietly.
Stone shakes his head. No.
“Just go with it,” I whisper, briefly registering his look of confusion, clearly thinking I’m telling him to ignore his discomfort and let the guy grope him, before I say loud enough for the guy to hear me as I rip his hand out of Stone’s pocket and wrap my arms around Stone’s waist, pulling him against me, nuzzling my face into his neck.
“This one’s spoken for. I swear, I leave for five minutes to take a piss, and the wolves descend. ”
I don’t have to fake my anger. I don’t have to pretend to be annoyed that this guy is touching Stone.
In fact, I completely forget that I’m acting, that we’re here to find a potential hookup for Stone, that I’m supposed to be helping him figure out what he likes and wants, not going all caveman on the first guy who gets close.
But when Stone leans into me and away from the guy behind him, I don’t give a shit about what we came here to do; I just care about getting him out of here.
I grab his hand and pull him away from the bar back toward the couch where we left our coats.
“Han, I want—”
I know what he wants.
“I know, baby. We’re going home.”
SHIIIIIIIIIIIT.
Did I just call him baby?
Ohmyfuckinggod. I did.
I’m actually not sure what’s more shocking: my calling him baby, or the low moan that escaped from his mouth after I said it.
No. Nope. Not going there.
He’s drunk, and I’m a dumbass. The end.
I get him loaded into his Tahoe and start the trek back to his house, turning up the radio until I realize his Bad Omens station is playing Dying to Love. It might be a little too on the nose for right now.
I move to turn it back down, but Stone stops me.
“I like this song.”
“Uh, yeah, okay,” I stammer, trying to breathe through my heartache.
How the fuck did this happen? How did I allow myself to start thinking about Stone like that?
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, staring out the window as we inch toward his house on the snowy roads.
“Nothing I can say out loud,” I tell him, apparently wanting to spill my guts because why the fuck wouldn’t I just say ‘nothing’ like a normal person?
“Maybe it’s the same thing I’m thinking then,” he says, still staring out the window as though speaking into the darkness is safer than looking anywhere else.
I snort a derisive laugh. “I highly doubt that.”
In my peripheral vision, I see Stone turn to look at me. He’s silent for a while. When we turn onto his street, he finally breaks his silence.
“Are you okay? You’re gripping the steering wheel awfully tightly.”
“Yes. The roads are bad,” I reply.
“You don’t sound okay,” he observes.
“I said I’m fine,” I snap, immediately feeling bad.
“I’m sorry. I guess I’m just pissed at that prick for putting his hands on you when you clearly didn’t want him to.
People can be so disgusting. Men, women, straight, queer…
there are bad apples everywhere,” I ramble.
The guy at the bar honestly didn’t do anything wrong.
Stone didn’t tell him to stop. But someone’s got to take the blame for my misplaced anger, and it might as well be that guy.
“I’m okay, though, thanks to your, uh, quick thinking,” Stone says, addressing the elephant in the room.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I’m sure you didn’t want my hands on you either, but the devil you know, right?”
“Hmm,” he hums, turning to look back out the window.
“What’s hmm mean?” I ask, pulling into his garage and putting the vehicle in park.
Stone sighs. “Nothing. Never mind.” I get out and follow him into the kitchen. “Good night, Han.”
The sadness in his voice is the only reason I do what I do next.
Catching his wrist, I pull him back toward me. He’s not steady on his feet, though, and crashes into me for the second time tonight. The kitchen lights are brighter than in the lounge, and I easily see his pupils dilate as his lips part.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
His hand is on my waist, fingers digging in as he wages war against himself. When his eyes flit to my mouth, and he makes no move to pull away from me, I give him one last chance.
“You can’t look at me like that, Stone.”
“Why not?” His question is spoken directly into my mouth because whether he’s realized it or not, he’s leaning into me.
“Because I’m going to do something about it, and there’s no coming back from this.”
He shrugs a shoulder like whatever is happening in this kitchen right now is no big deal.
“Maybe you can help me figure out what I like?”
“You can’t be serious!”
His brows pinch together, and I know I’ve hurt him. Despite our history, hurting Stone is not something that comes naturally to me. And shaming him even less so. I should push him away from me, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
God, this is so fucked.
“I just mean…we’re—” I try to backtrack, but he cuts me off.
“Don’t you dare say brothers.”
“WE ARE brOTHERS!” I yell, mostly trying to remind myself before this gets any more out of hand.
“So, what am I supposed to do?” he asks, the strain in his voice giving away his pain, and I’m unsure if it’s physical or emotional at this point.
“About what?”
Without hesitation, Stone grabs my hand, placing it over his crotch where his erection is impossibly hard. My fingers instantly squeeze, wanting to feel the weight of him in my hand, the shape of him, the size of him. His breathy exhale sounds like a sigh of relief, and I almost come on the spot.
“Why do I get like this for you and no one else?” he practically sobs.
The thought slams into me with his words, and I blurt it out while still holding his cock. “I think you’re demisexual,” I suggest, assuming he’s familiar with the term.
“I’m what?”
Well, you know what they say about making assumptions.
“In very basic terms, it means you require a deep emotional connection with someone in order to be sexually attracted to them.”
His cock twitches against my palm as if agreeing with my assessment.
“Oh, fuck,” I groan. “I’m trying to fight this, Stone. Ignore it. Will it to go away because this can’t happen. We can’t happen.” With every word I utter, my defenses get weaker.
“I know,” he agrees. “Doesn’t mean I can help how I feel. You think I want to feel like this?”
“How exactly do you feel, Stone?” I ask, wondering if he’ll say it out loud.
Instead of answering with his words, Stone grips the back of my neck like he’s done this a thousand times and hauls my mouth to his.
Fireworks detonate behind my eyelids, and any thoughts I may have had about pushing him off me die quickly when he whimpers.
Stone Addario fucking whimpers as my tongue claims his.
His hands are everywhere: on my shoulders, my neck, my back, trying to get under my shirt.
When his blunt nails rake down my stomach, I finally pull away and really look at him.
He’s so fucking sexy when he’s desperate for me.
This man, who drops dynamite out of helicopters, who triggers one of the world’s deadliest natural disasters on a regular basis, who can splint a fucked-up knee, stabilize most injuries, and looks hot as all fuck both half-naked in the CrossFit gym and under thirty layers of patrol gear.
And he wants me.
His brother.
“Hey, slow down,” I say gently, pulling his hands out from under my shirt, but keeping a hold on them.
“What’s the plan here? I can’t go back to the way things were when I first got here, just because you’re going to be sober tomorrow and regret everything that happened tonight, and we absolutely can’t take this any further. ”
“I don’t know. Just…can you just kiss me again?” he pants, tugging out of my grip and reaching for my me once more.
“Stone…”
“Hanlon, please. For what it’s worth, I’m not even that drunk. That probably makes this worse, but I haven’t ever wanted something like this. Hell, I’ve never felt like this…and it feels so fucking good.”
With my hand still over his cock, I grind the heel of my palm against him, and when his mouth opens to release his moan of pleasure, I swallow it, gently nipping at his bottom lip before sucking it into my mouth.
Because goddammit, I want it.
His hips thrust forward, his cock seeking friction. One of his hands is still holding me to him by the back of my neck, while the other remains clutching my waist as he ruts against my palm.
“Do you want me to get you off?” I manage to ask, completely ignoring my earlier statement about not taking this any further. Fuck it. I’m addicted.
“God, yes,” Stone breathes.
Gripping his shaft through his pants, I still my hand. “Are you going to be an absolute cunt tomorrow when you’re pissed that we did this?”
“No,” he whines, trying to thrust into my fist.
“Are you going to ignore me and make my remaining time here unbearable because you’re thinking with your cock right now?”
“No, Hanlon, fucking please. It’s starting to hurt. I need to come so fucking bad.”
Smiling because, God, he’s hot when he begs, I throw his own words back at him. “You say fuck a lot.”
Losing his patience, he takes matters into his own hands and shoves me against the wall, pumping his hips into me. He finds my erection and groans.
“More,” he pants. “Now.”
“Boxers?” I ask.
“Yes.”
We both undo our pants. I kick my shoes off and step one leg out of my slacks so I can widen my stance.
With the thickest layers gone, Stone presses himself against me, and we’re both exhaling expletives as our cocks rub against each other through our boxers.
“Holy fucking shit, you feel so good,” I tell him.
“Is it always like this?” he asks.
“No,” I answer honestly, grabbing two handfuls of his perfect ass and drawing him harder against myself.
“Oh shit, Han. I’m gonna come. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck.”
The warmth of his orgasm spreads through both layers of our cotton boxers, and being coated in Stone’s release sends me flying over the edge right after him.
“Stone, I’m…” I trail off, lost to the sheer ecstasy of having Stone in my arms as I come undone.