Chapter 9
SMITH
Iwent home after leaving Ink and Ember, and I stayed there the entire day.
I ignored Asha’s calls, ignored Hunter’s messages, and I ignored Lincoln’s phone calls.
One of the three was more persistent than the others, and Lincoln showed up at my front door right before dinner time with my brother in tow.
“He won’t be mad,” Lincoln said as soon as I opened the door. He rolled his eyes at Hunter, then gave me a tentative smile. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
I stepped out of the way to let them both in, then went back into the living room.
Lincoln made himself at home on my couch, snuggling up next to me like he owned the place.
Hunter sat down beside him, resting a hand on Lincoln’s thigh, the three of us connected like a more emotionally stunted human centipede.
“You didn’t need to come,” I said. “I would have texted eventually.”
“You were upset last night,” Hunter interjected. “Lincoln was worried.”
I glanced at my brother. “Were you not?”
Hunter chewed nervously on his lip like I’d just caught him in an uncomfortable truth.
“Not in the same way,” Lincoln answered for him. “I knew you’d pull through this little hiccup, but Hunter knows your differently than I do.”
“I’m fine,” I assured them both. “Just been thinking about a lot of things lately and confusing myself is all.”
“Twenty-five is hard,” Hunter said, patting Lincoln’s leg and using it to leverage himself up from the couch. “I’m going to get a drink.”
Lincoln and I both watched until Hunter was safe in the kitchen, still within earshot, but out of the direct line of sight; then Lincoln turned to me and jammed his elbow down into my shoulder. Our lips were so treacherously close to each other that it was a kiss without even meaning to be one.
“Does the affection bother Hunter?”
“No.” Lincoln smiled against my mouth.
“Have you talked about it with him?”
“Of course. He knows it’s not…it’s not anything more than it is.”
I hummed, appreciating Lincoln’s closeness without reading into it.
I was lucky Hunter wasn’t bothered that Lincoln and I had already had sex with each other.
It wasn’t like there’d been romantic love between us or anything, but there had been physical intimacy.
That would have been a dealbreaker for a lot of people, but the Convington men—myself included—seemed to take Lincoln in stride.
Marshall encouraged the closeness between Lincoln and Silas, Hunter wasn’t scared of it, and I… I didn’t know how to accept it.
“Have you found someone to top you yet?” Lincoln asked, brushing a final kiss against the corner of my mouth before reaching for Hunter who was back with three bottles of beer from my fridge.
The last three bottles of beer.
“I know he’s your friend, but he’s still my baby brother,” Hunter groaned, taking a swig of beer and resting the bottle on the arm of the couch.
“No,” I told Lincoln, glancing past him at Hunter. “But it feels less urgent now.”
“Thank God,” Hunter muttered.
“I’m not a virgin.”
“Of course you are,” Hunter argued.
I rolled my eyes and sipped at the beer, staring at the reflection of the three of us in the dark television across the room.
Lincoln was half on me, half on my brother, sprawled out like a cat claiming everything in sight for himself.
It was good to see him settling back into the comfort of knowing himself again, and I was admittedly jealous I didn’t have that for myself.
“Your brother and I were in the neighborhood, and we’re going to grab some take-out and then go home and watch movies until Monday. I suggested we stop by and invite you since you weren’t necessarily up for solitude last night.”
“I’m sure your kind of movie marathons come with things not meant for brothers,” I said, which earned me a relieved look from Hunter.
I knocked the rim of my beer bottle against Lincoln’s and gave him as honest of a smile as I could manage.
“I promise I’m okay. If you’re allowed to have a quarter-life crisis, so am I. ”
“I don’t have any brothers for you to fall in love with, though,” he protested.
I thought about Riggs, his appearance in my brain unwarranted and unsolicited.
But there was no denying I’d come home from the shop and spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about the bulge behind the worn cotton of his pajama pants and the wide spread of dark, curly hair that had been visible above the waistband.
I’d never put much thought before into if I had a type or not.
I’d been with a couple women in college, and then that one time with Lincoln because I’d had a little too much to drink but did really want to know what it was like.
Riggs was the opposite of all of them, tall and rugged, barely a visible inch of untattooed skin to be seen.
I’m sure he hadn’t expected me to get an eyeful of him in his half-naked glory, but now that I had, it was something I had no interest in unseeing.
“Who are you thinking about?” Lincoln asked, eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“Just now.” Hunter leaned around Lincoln and gave me the same inscrutable look. “You were definitely making heart eyes over someone.”
“Was not.” I knocked Lincoln out of the way and jumped off the couch, taking the beer into the kitchen and setting it in the sink. I didn’t want to drink, at least not beer. I poured myself a glass of water and swallowed it down before rejoining them in the living room.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about her yet,” Hunter said gently.
“Him,” I corrected without thinking.
Lincoln’s eyes sparkled when he said, “Told you so.”
“It’s nothing,” I said quickly. “He’s no one.”
“Clearly not.” Hunter’s stomach growled, and Lincoln’s attention flickered between me and my brother.
“It’s fine. Go get your food and watch your movies. I promise I’m okay. Just a little introspective is all.”
Hunter stood, pulling Lincoln to his feet before shoving him out of the way to wrap me in a hug. The affection was uncharacteristic, but Lincoln had a way of changing everyone he met for the better.
“Don’t let it bury you,” he whispered into my ear. “Lincoln almost did.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
I hugged Lincoln next, cheeks burning when he dropped an affectionate love bite on the side of my neck before linking his arm through the crook of Hunter’s elbow.
The two of them shared a hushed conversation on their way to the front door.
A lot of Lincoln talking and Hunter nodding his agreement.
We said our goodbyes and as quick as they’d arrived, they were gone again and my apartment was quiet.
I thought again about Riggs, knowing that line of thought wasn’t going to get me anywhere.
He was definitely not interested in me, probably thought I was a stupid kid in over my head.
He’d probably laughed with his friends about how I passed out after getting tattooed then stolen his hoodie and fled.
No.
I didn’t know a thing about him, but I knew that wasn’t true.
Riggs had been genuinely concerned about me, at the shop and after, and something had transpired between us earlier in the morning, even if I had no idea how to explain it.
There was something there, unspoken and uncertain, and I didn’t have a lot of experience with those things, but it felt a little bit like interest. It was something I would talk to Lincoln about, but I wanted him and my brother to have their weekend together without worrying about me.
Instead, I finally answered one of the ignored messages from Asha.
I hope you got the pink one.
She had a habit of texting me throughout the day, whether I answered her or not, asking for opinions on clothes and makeup, sharing invitations for social gatherings, and sometimes sending me pictures of pretty buildings.
I appreciated all of them, even if I went through days where I left them all ignored.
Her response came immediately.
Asha
Should have said so sooner if you had a preference.
It matches your skin better.
Glad you’re alive.
What are you doing?
My brother and Lincoln just came by, but they left.
Did I tell you I got a tattoo?
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YOU DID WHAT
COME OUT TONIGHT SO I CAN SEE IT
I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU, COVINGTON.
Come out where?
Rapture at ten.
It was barely six, and four hours was a long time to be alone with the mess going on in my mind.
Okay. I’ll meet you there.
*heart emoji*
I plugged my phone in to charge and decided a shower was in order.
I hadn’t taken one in the morning, instead leaving Hunter’s and going directly to Riggs’s shop to return his hoodie, then I’d sulked around the house all day until Hunter and Lincoln had shown up at the door.
I probably smelled ripe, and the hot water was a welcome cleanse.
In the privacy of my bathroom, I tipped my head back and let the water sluice down my throat and my collarbone, wincing once the hot droplets snaked over my fresh tattoo.
The pain was shocking, but I found myself drawn to it, holding my arm under the spray directly until it didn’t hurt anymore.
My skin was beyond sensitive, but the biting sting was grounding, something I could focus on and breathe through with relative ease.
It felt bigger than me and feeling small was exactly what I needed.
The first time Asha took me to Rapture, I’d been so overwhelmed, and when I got home I had an orgasm so intense I saw stars.
I knew I’d been somewhat sheltered, on account of having three older brothers, but I’d never really understood the scope of how much life existed outside of my own experience.
I wasn’t lying when I told Asha I’d seen movies and porn about the kind of stuff that went on at Rapture, but being part of it felt obscenely hedonistic.
She’d called me submissive, which felt weird and wrong.
Being submissive to the whims and interests of my oldest brother was one of the things that had sent me into this emotional spiral to begin with, though I assumed my submission to Marshall was not even in the ballpark of submission to a dominant partner.
Pulling my arm out of the spray, I soaped up my loofah and tried to imagine myself in both roles.
It didn’t take long for a preference to emerge, because I would have shoved my freshly tattooed arm into a pot of boiling water rather than tell someone else what to do.
As I washed myself thoroughly between my legs, I wondered what it would be like to go to Rapture and ask someone to put me on my knees.
Would I find pleasure in kneeling? Would it be enough? Or did I need a…did I need a spanking?
I’d never really been into the idea of pain as pleasure, but the lingering burn on my forearm felt like the me of the past had been a lie.
This awakening was a slow one, but I was a careful man.
I was still my brother’s…brother…his son, sometimes, but I was like him in many ways.
Not prone to rash decision making, always ready to evaluate options before taking action.
“You just have to find the good of him in you and move on from the rest,” I told myself, rinsing the suds down the drain.
My dick had somehow hung half-hard for the whole shower, enticed by the promise of another night at Rapture, the curiosity of a whole new world fresh at my fingertips.
Curling my hand around my cock, I gave a test stroke, loose and overhand.
Groaning, I rested my head against the wall of the shower, turning so the water sprayed down hot over my tattoo.
Normally when I jerked off, I got lost in the feeling of it, but with the burn on my arm it was harder to lose myself.
The pain tangled around the pleasure, and when I came all over the shower door, my knees gave out entirely.
I sank down, head bowed and water rushing over me as the last drops of cum leaked out of my dick.
By the time I came back to myself, the water was barely warmer than room temperature, my fingers creased and pruned.
I sucked in a breath that felt a lot like the first one I’d ever breathed, then collapsed onto my ass.
Spread out in my bathtub, shower raining down against my spent cock and my thighs, I shoved my hair out of my face and closed my eyes, cursing under my breath.
Being submissive, wanting to be told what to do was one thing.
Enjoying pain was something else entirely, and that was absolutely what had just happened to me.
Every nerve in my body was alive and alert.
My brain, aware of every contact point on my body whether it was skin against water or skin against porcelain, skin against skin where my thighs pressed together.
This was unexpected.
This…changed everything.