Chapter Three
“Don’t you mean fuck-it list?” Dionysus snickers as he stands, shooting me yet another of those wide, carnal smirks of his. It’s a classic Rhett Orbison move that even on its own could threaten spontaneous impregnation—but then he goes and follows it up by lazily dragging his tongue over the hand he just finished jerking off with.
My teeth sink straight into my lip at the sight, and I quickly cross my legs. I’m a complete sucker for a man who doesn’t balk at his own taste, so watching him lap up the aftermath like that? Always hot.
Not as hot as watching him do the same thing to Zeus’s massive cock, though.
Good. Fucking. Lord.
I’m going to be walking in cursive for days.
The man in question only shakes his head at Dio’s antics, tucking himself away while muttering darkly beneath his breath. Agitated fingers spear through equally dark hair.
Oh, hell no, mister.
Not even that signature eye roll of yours will be spoiling this absolute fucking unicorn of a moment for me.
Because not only is there now a gentle lull in the noise that infects my brain on the daily—it’s all thanks to tandem orgasms, delivered by these two men in particular.
So I double dog dare Jackson Sebastian Grayson to try stoic-ing his way out of this easy chemistry—the evidence of which is currently pooling on the counter below me, despite Dio’s best efforts to dam the flow with his fingers.
Which definitely shouldn’t have been as much of a turn-on as it was.
“Whatever you call being party to some of my deepest fantasies come to life,” I shrug, purposefully ignoring the furrowed brows aimed at the side of my head. I settle my weight back onto my palm instead.
“Two men, together? Check, ” I drawl, emphasizing with a languid air tick against my imaginary list. “But you two, together? That’s extra credit . ”
Dio sweeps the two of us an appropriately sarcastic half-bow before sidestepping to the sink to finish cleaning up. “You’re welcome,” he shoots back over one shoulder as the tap flicks on.
Such a cocky motherfucker. But it’s a sickening good look on him.
And now I’m wondering why he’s never mentioned the two of them having a thing before today.
“Sooo…Exactly how long have you guys been hooking up?” I ask, all super casual-like. I’ll never admit it, but I may be slightly more jealous that they didn’t share this with me than I am annoyed that I apparently missed all the signs.
“Oh, about thirty minutes, give or take,” is D's deadpan answer as he flicks droplets of water in my direction. All while still completely nonplussed, as per the Orbison playbook.
My jaw unhinges.
Zeus, on the other hand, spins and paces directly away from us, only stopping when he reaches the threshold of the living area. The only view I have right now is the back of his head, but it’s safe to assume, with the way his shoulders roll back, that he’s busy tugging his armor back into place.
My first thought is he must be having a harder time processing their brand new dynamic than I initially thought, given how natural it seemed. They’ve been best friends and Crew partners for years, so I’m curious if it’s something he was even aware was brewing—or if it came completely out of left field for him as it did for me.
But then he turns and it’s me he pins with a challenging look, not our Enforcer. My spine immediately straightens when I see his pinched expression.
“That’s all it was, then? Some sort of erotic wish fulfillment?” Zeus grates out, skating right on past D’s little reveal.
I blink, and a small line forms between my brows.
I know that somewhere beneath the thorny, sarcastic exterior exists a small part of my heart—as withered and emotionally stunted as it is—that’s always carried a sort of pseudo-torch for the man standing directly in front of me.
A very much unrequited pseudo-torch, but a tiny, naked flame nonetheless.
So, to have him be the one to initiate all this? Even if all that eventuates from this little hook-up was just casual sex going forward? My younger teen self would be absolutely crowing right now.
Is it too soon to be updating our status to It’s Complicated ?
Zeus’s gaze is becoming more and more a searing touch the longer it holds mine. Although he’s normally so careful to guard his thoughts around us, it seems, for this moment at least, he might actually be opening up and allowing some of them to play out across his face.
What they are not saying is: That was just casual sex.
What they are saying is: This was more.
And with my deeply buried crush, I should be feeling fucking ecstatic right now.
But the problem is more requires…communication.
It requires empathy. Partnership. Giving, and not just taking .
It requires—no, demands —vulnerability.
All things I can't give him.
After all, the only committed relationship I’ve ever been in is with my ill-gotten Xanax prescription.
No. Zeus’s been fighting so hard and sheltering us for so long, and when this is all over, he deserves to find someone who can give him all those things .
They both do.
Which is why I can’t let this get any more intimate than it already has. Not even with a kiss.
“A girl’s got to have dreams—” I start, aiming for deflection, only to have Zeus cut me off with another angry huff.
“Stop, Sabe. Just stop ,” he snaps out, his frustration a palpable thing that settles in the pit of my stomach like a foreign object. My jaw grinds, and for once, I don't know what I should say to try and tease him back from the ledge. This is also not the first flicker of unease I’ve felt since coming home to find him waiting in the dark.
The image of Hermes’s crestfallen face surfaces, unbidden.
Perhaps not even the first time today .
I almost jerk back when I feel Dio’s warmth press in alongside me as he settles back against the counter. I look down at where his hot, damp skin meets mine. The simple show of affection isn’t a characteristic one for either of us, and I find it oddly comforting.
I glance back up in time to catch Zeus’s frown deepening. He’s focused on the place our forearms touch. “Just me then,” he observes, tonelessly.
“What?”
When his gaze returns to my face, all the heat that was simmering there just a moment ago is completely gone. His expression’s no less fierce—it’s just more of a cold burn instead. “I was the only one being used to check off your little sex list, then.”
Alright, who in the actual hell body-snatched my eternally indomitable, weather-all-storms, control freak of a Crew Lead Grayson—because I have no fucking idea who this man is, with his hair all wild and crystal blue eyes flashing with possession.
Or why I seem to be sucking up all of the emotion leaking from that cracked composure of his like some kind of secondhand smoke.
I mean, that’s got to be the only explanation for all the twisting snakes in my stomach right now…right?
Hey Google: can feelings be contagious?
“C’mon, Daddy Z, seriously? She’s been mooning over you since she was sixteen,” Dionysus cuts in with uncharacteristic annoyance, effectively shattering the kitchen’s awkward silence.
My head instantly rears back.
“Dio, you better make your last will and testament known because you’re officially about to become very fucking dead to me ,” I hiss.
The fucking traitor doesn’t even bother feigning innocence. “Nah , babygirl,” he drawls as he shrugs a massive tattooed shoulder at us both, “I guess your pussy’s not the magical cure for blindness after all—because he still can’t see what’s right in front of his fucking face.”
I don’t know whose eyes go wider in response to that—mine or Zeus’s. But apparently, D's not finished with his assault.
“I’m done watching the two of you silently pining for each other,” he forges on, pointing an accusing finger in his best friend’s stunned face for emphasis. “ You know she has a hard time processing any kind of intimacy. You can’t just ask her shit like that and not expect her to go on the defensive.”
Then he turns to me, and I suck in a breath, bracing myself.The gloves are off, it seems.
“It was never going to be just a quick fuck for him, not when Zeus’s feelings for you border on DSM-5 levels of obsession.”
At that, my left temple begins to throb and I’m forced to keep my lips pressed tightly together in order to stave off the sudden mirth bubbling up my throat.
Because surely this is all a dream. One I’m about to wake up from—back to the harsh reality where Jax fucking Grayson only cares about me in the capacity of ward and asset .
Any second now.
And then I get my next surprise. Instead of an expression full of anger or guilt, our Team Lead only looks…exasperated.
“Okay, seriously, why the fuck do you keep calling me Zeus? Or…” His eyes darken as he presses the tip of his tongue against the corner of his lips, “… Daddy ?”
This time I can’t help barking out a laugh. It’s the considering look on his face as he rolls the word around his mouth. I totally called it—he’s way too dominant and enjoys reigning in my brat way too much.
Dio’s brat, too, apparently.
Fingers crossed that leads to yet another entry being marked off the List.
“Uh, short story: I wanted to further protect our off-book surveillance of the Rox Boys by assigning them new aliases. I gave each of them a Greek god.”
Dio leans further into my side, and I’m relieved to find a cheeky smile back on his handsome face. A small amount of tension eases across my shoulders.
Then he opens his big, fat mouth. Again.
“I wanted in on her budding harem, so I made her give me one too.”
One of my hands connects with his chest and Dio’s cheeks puff out with an exaggerated wince. Zeus doesn’t miss a single part of the exchange, of course. The muscle along his jaw jumps, his eyes narrowing in our Enforcer’s direction.
“I thought it was just Miller and Sinclair?”
Now my lips actually do part. “I swear to god , Orbison. Do you not understand the concept of this stays between us ?!”
I wonder if I can reach that block of knives sitting on the counter directly behind him. And if these counters might be too porous for the impending bloodshed.
“You know I have to report everything back to the Bossman, baby, even pillow talk,” he says, fighting and failing to hide his amusement at my indignant look.
I’m still deciding how best to carve that smug fucking look off his face when Zeus raises both a hand and an eyebrow. “Let me guess: Dio’s short for Dionysus, ” he interjects mildly.
The giant, muscle-bound idiot’s grin widens. “At your service.”
Our Lead’s gaze drops to his lips. “Fitting.” The corner of his own mouth tilts, maybe even threatens to lift, but he still sounds much too terse. “And the others?”
“Tristan is pre-med, musical, revered by the student body. The golden boy. Apollo ,” I list them off, not blind to the way Zeus’s face tightens at Tristan’s name. “Callum’s their weapons guy. He’s big, angry. If they were to have an Enforcer, he’d be it. So, goes without saying— Ares. Lake is cyber and information, takes care of communication with their contacts. Hermes. Finally , Atlas is in charge of their money. Unlike the others, he’s private. I also suspect he does most of their surveillance. Hades.”
“Well, if your intentions were to form some sort of ancillary Crew, then it would only make sense for me to be Zeus, I suppose,” he muses, with all the innate confidence and arrogance of a Grayson. The frown’s gone, but now his look’s entirely too self-satisfied for my liking.
“Don’t know why you’re automatically assuming leadership in my Pantheon,” I grumble half-heartedly, but not exactly hating the way his eyes track down my body when I relax back onto my hands again.
“Because you like it when I tell you what to do,” he mutters without skipping a beat, taking his first step back into the kitchen.With the way his eyes glaze, I’m not entirely sure he’s even aware he took it at all.
Dio’s head drops back and I feel his groan vibrate through my shoulder. “I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but we didn’t expect to see you before the opening ceremony tomorrow night. Yet here you are—looking like the Herald herself just dropped a Kill Order with your name on it.” He huffs out an exaggerated breath. “So maybe we turn this ,” he continues, circling a finger between the three of us, “down to more of a sweet simmer. Just long enough for us all to regroup, yeah?”
It’s such a casually delivered jest, but the ensuing silence is so total, you could hear a fucking mouse fart.
Dio’s eyes swing back and forth between us, assessing. His teasing expression slowly drops. “Wait— seriously ?!” he exclaims, tanned cheeks now distinctly paler. “Who the fuck would even have the balls?!”
“Sebastian,” Zeus replies flatly, wetting his dry lips and glancing away. Just like that, all the sexual tension of a minute ago is replaced by actual tension.
“Bullshit!” Dio spits out incredulously, volume rising as one large hand swipes through the air. “There’s no way— no fucking way —The Gray Man’s killing off his own fucking heir. He’d sooner rather get rid of his Codex!”
And before today, I would’ve one hundred percent agreed with him.
Until now, Zeus and I had both lived with and worked for the Suits fully confident that our importance to Sebastian’s empire came with certain immunities.
Immunities like not being, you know, forcibly retired.
“There hasn’t been an officially sanctioned hit,” I cut in, and Dio’s eyes slide reluctantly away from where he’s studying Zeus’s distant expression. He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “He’s…found evidence Sebastian has a second biological son. One who’s just come of age.”
Dionysus’s huge body rocks forward in shock. “You’re fucking kidding. Do we know who it is?”
The look that passes between Zeus and I feels distinctly loaded, but I can’t quite tell how said exchange actually makes me feel.
…Nervous?
…Guilty?
Fuck.
This is all too unfamiliar and raw, and I’m way too emotionally illiterate for this. Trying to understand what’s currently happening inside my chest’s like trying to decipher a set of hieroglyphics without the Rosetta Stone.
“Yeah, we do, actually,” I finally manage after a harsh swallow.This goddamn acid in my stomach. Maybe I should be finding myself some TUMS instead because forcing down all these confusing sensations only seems to burn like bile.
“It’s…Apollo,” I force out, dipping my chin and glancing at him from beneath my lashes.
I have to bite down on my tongue as confusion, anger and amusement each take turns battling it out across his features—before eventually making way for trouble-seeking .Seeing his eyes glimmer with that familiar devilment is almost a relief.
There’s just something so off-putting about a serious Dionysus.
I say almost , because of course the next words out of his cursed mouth have me wanting to reach for the knife block all over again.
“So inquiring minds need to know: Which of the Gray Man’s spawn has the bigger dick?”