Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
ZEPHYR
Idump the blanket on the couch as Darwin locks the doors. I’m a little amused that he locks them. Who does he think is going to climb up the sheer side of the castle onto the terrace and let themselves in through the doors here?
That level of disinterest is probably why I never volunteer for castle duties in the off-season when no one is around.
Admittedly, I’m relieved Reynold isn’t here.
He’s right. Moll and Reynold were likely going to be here through the end of the year.
I’d have likely thrown Reynold over the side of the terrace before the week’s end, and I wouldn’t have been sorry about it.
Darwin leads the way through the castle to the kitchen, and I watch as he checks the windows and doors along the way. When he sees me watching him with amusement, he asks, “What?”
“Just wondering who you think is going to climb in?”
He rolls his eyes. “No one. The wind gets rough as the colder weather blows through, and the rattling can loosen the old locks and latches. It’s cold enough in the castle. I don’t particularly want extra air conditioning when the temperature is below freezing outside.”
“Ah. Logic. And here I thought you were afraid of phantoms breaking in.”
“Phantoms are already here and don’t need to open doors. Thankfully—for us—I think they all hang around Matty.”
I frown. I’ve always felt bad about Matty’s circumstances.
We can smell the stew as we get closer to the kitchen. I didn’t think I was hungry, but the aroma has my mouth watering and my stomach clenching. There’s a chance I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I’m starving.
“Wow, that smells good,” I say.
Darwin nods. “My dad’s recipe. Curiously, he was a shit cook when I was a kid.
My other dad said it didn’t matter; they’d just hire a personal chef since they didn’t want me to grow up on takeout.
But Dad said no and took endless cooking classes, hired personal chef tutors, and all that shit.
By the time I was ten, he was cooking like a damn pro.
This is his recipe, one of my absolute favorite meals since I was a kid.
I think if I really look back on it, this might be the first meal he cooked all on his own that he nailed, so maybe it’s nostalgia as opposed to actually the best meal. ”
“That’s cute,” I say. “A lot of dedication.”
“I…” Darwin trails off as he mixes flour and shit to make his dumpling dough. Is it dough? Whatever. “His parents were shit,” he says after a minute. “I think most of his goals in parenthood were to be everything they weren’t. I actually think that’s the reason I’m an only child.”
Okay, that makes zero sense in that I don’t know what he’s actually talking about, but I nod all the same.
My mother had an older sister who suffered from some severe mental illness and hurt my mom all the time when they were young.
No one did anything about it because her sister was sick, and she couldn’t help herself. She didn’t know better.
Then she turned up dead, having fallen down the stairs one day, and…
I think my parents are all very attuned to the relationship between my brothers and me because of that.
There was a lot of reiteration about respect and how hands only belong on our own bodies unless otherwise invited, including hugs.
We always had the right to refuse a hug, no matter who wanted one.
I nod absently as I think about this. “I get that,” I say.
He glances at me over his shoulder. “You do?”
“Yeah. My mother didn’t have the best childhood for many years.
My Dadaz was a foster kid and kicked out of…
what, eleven homes before he turned fourteen or something.
Maybe twelve? I can’t remember the age. There’s been so much talk about making family structures politicized and who hurts kids more—straight or gay parents—when, in the end, the sexuality and makeup of the parental structure has nothing to do with it.
Shitty people are at the core of what hurts kids. ”
“Exactly, and also, wow. That’s fucked up, man.
One of my dads was treated like…” He shakes his head as he drops dumpling balls into the stew.
“I don’t even know. Like he didn’t exist. Like he was different and unwanted.
He was raised by nannies in Vegas while his three older siblings lived and were raised by his parents in Hollywood. ”
“What the fuck?”
“Mm. My other dad’s parents were killed when he was a kid, though he always maintained that they were really shitty people.
I don’t know if they hurt him physically, since that’s all he’s ever said about them.
They were shitty, awful people. So yeah, I think one dad was afraid of having multiple kids because of the way he was treated, and I think my other…
” Darwin places the lid on the big pot and faces me.
“To be honest, I don’t think he wanted kids at all.
I think the only person he truly loves is my dad. ”
“You don’t think he loves you?”
“We have something in common,” Darwin says, and a small smile curls the corners of his lips. “We have a father who’s a psychopath.”
“Ah, yeah, then I completely understand what you mean.”
“Like, I know he cares about me, and I know that he’ll always protect me above almost anyone else, but… I’m not my dad, right?
“Right,” I agree.
Darwin smiles, and for a few minutes, we just stare at each other. There’s a quiet understanding spreading before us that has never been there before. I’ve never disliked Darwin, but I can’t say we were ever friends before.
I would never have guessed we had something so deep in common. It’s different, and yet the undertone is the same.
We eat in comfortable silence, and he’s not wrong. This stew is fucking amazing. I say so at least a dozen times, to which Darwin grins and agrees. He doesn’t try to take credit for it in the least, even though he cooked it. All credit goes to his father, the writer of the recipe.
When we’re finished, we head into the media room with chocolate-covered pretzels—that he made, mind you—and settle in to watch a movie.
I truly don’t care what we watch. I’m not entirely convinced I’ll be watching it anyway.
My brain feels far too wired, tired, and upset to focus on a movie tonight.
But I’m still glad for the company. And the pretzels are good.
He’s flipping through the streaming app, and I realize he’s not looking for something specific. He’s just looking for something that’s going to set a light tone for the night. He chooses one called The Prince and Me, and hits play.
Of course, there are ads right away, though only before the movie.
This is the app that doesn’t have ads breaking up the show.
I munch on a pretzel, my mind already wandering to something else.
Anything else. Like the taste of these pretzels.
The salty and sweet taste is wonderful. I love everything about it.
Jude would love these too. He loves chocolate and pretzels.
A moan on the screen has my eyes refocusing.
It’s just a commercial. The little yellow ‘ad’ block in the top right says so.
It doesn’t take long for me to see that it’s an ad for condoms that ‘feel so good, it’s like they’re not even there.
’ I actually like this brand of condom, and I use it exclusively for its inclusivity in its ads.
Yes, there’s your typical straight couple, but the scene breaks to two guys getting hot in the club, a hand dropping to the waistband of his partner’s pants, fingers dipping inside.
It’s only a forty-five-second ad, but my cock is interested now. Great. Just what I need.
Darwin shifts. I feel him glance my way, and I wonder if the commercial did it for him, too. Doesn’t matter. My cock can get itself under control.
“Are you seeing someone?” Darwin asks.
I blink and look at him. Unexpected question. “Uh… no? Why?”
“No? You don’t sound convinced of that.”
Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. “I’m not. Not even close.”
“Okay, so… can I make a proposition?”
His question alone has my dick chubbing. Fuck. “Yes.”
“Friends with benefits. Are you interested?”
My blood turns to fire. Not because I’m particularly attracted to Darwin. Not that I’m not attracted to him. I guess I’ve never paid him much attention. But… now that I’m looking at him, my cock likes what we see.
“Yeah,” I say, feeling a little breathless.
We move at the same time, coming together in the middle, our mouths crashing. He’s slightly taller than me since he’s on his knees and I’m twisted to face him, though still on my ass. I grip the back of his neck, making sure I have good access to his mouth, and waste no time tasting him.
Darwin crawls to me and straddles my lap.
I grip his ass and haul him against me so our dicks can get acquainted through our pants.
Yep, I can do this. Definitely into this.
His hands rub over my chest and shoulders, down my stomach, and hike up my shirt to get to my bare skin.
My touch is equally urgent as I slip a hand down the back of his pants.
“You okay topping?” Darwin asks. “I’m cool to switch, but I really want to be fucked right now if you’re down.”
I groan and nod. Honestly, I don’t care one way or the other right now. I’m horny. It feels as if I haven’t touched another soul like this in ages. Maybe I haven’t. My brain is too lust-foggy to think back. Especially since it doesn’t matter right now.
We rip at each other’s clothes, stripping awkwardly without moving from where we are.
I lift my hips to let him drag my pants and underwear down.
He gets up on his knees, putting his cock in my face, as he struggles out of his own pants.
I bring his crown into my mouth and play with his hole at the same time.
There are condoms and lube in here somewhere.
There is in almost every room of this damn castle.
A summer filled with hot guys means that there’s going to be fuckery happening.
Especially considering we’re secluded and we can’t get to a club to hook up easily.
There isn’t one close. None of the little tourist towns on either side of the lake has a club. It’s not that kind of area.
Which means I’d wager my left nut that even our straightest of straight boys have dipped their dicks into a gay experience to relieve some pent-up horniness over the summers. We don’t judge. We don’t ask questions. We don’t blackmail.
I push my finger inside his little hole, and Darwin groans. “Wait,” he grunts. “Lube me while you’re doing this.”
Reluctantly, I let him go, and he scrambles from my lap to the table against the wall, where the drawers are filled with fun supplies. Maybe a few toys. Yes, we’re those kinds of people.
He’s back, dumping a handful of condoms on the cushion and thrusting the lube into my hand as he retakes his position. I bring him back into my mouth and work lube into his little hole. He’s loud as I prep him. Loud as I shove my fingers in deep. His hands tangle in my hair as he fucks my face.
Darwin isn’t being shy. I wouldn’t say he normally is, but this is the most reactive I’ve seen him toward anything in all the years I’ve known him.
My dick throbs, and I shove off him. “Turn around. Sit on my lap.”
He does as I instruct as I quickly slide on a condom. I don’t let him get his feet under him, nor his knees. That creates too much space between our bodies. Instead, I curl my arms under his thighs, forcing them to spread wide and lift him just enough so my dick has access to his ass.
Without me telling him to, Darwin reaches down and guides my cock to where we both want it to go.
I’m not gentle or particularly slow. I use his weight and gravity to bring him onto my dick.
My cockhead breaches his body almost right away, and he inhales sharply, his back arching as I continue to bring his body down and my dick inside him.
Down, down, down. I pause once when he jerks and bring him back up for a second.
He nods almost right away, and I slide him on me the rest of the way.
Darwin gasps and struggles to take a breath.
Fucking hell, my eyes roll. It feels like nothing has ever been in this hole before.
He’s tight. Hot. Strangling me. I roll my hips, which is really the most either of us can do with the way I have him spread out on my lap. He whines, and it makes my blood sing.
Knowing that neither of us is really going to get what we want like this, I let us fall sideways, but instead of keeping his legs spread wide to give me better access, I push his legs closed and begin fucking him.
He’s loud. His noises are high-pitched. His hand flails as he tries to brace himself, moving from the cushion to my wrist to my hair and everywhere in between.
“This what you wanted, Darwin?” I grunt as I continue to pump harshly into his body.
He whines. It’s almost a sob, but he nods. His hand is wrapped around my wrist again, fingers digging in almost painfully. I feel his nails and anticipate that they may break the skin. What’s a little blood between friends?
I bite his ear, making him grunt and whimper. “Come on my dick,” I demand, voice low and gruff in his ear. “Let me feel you come for me.”
He shivers, his body unable to stay still. His hips are twisted a little, but he’s still primarily on his side. His torso has rolled a little as well and he buries his face into the cushion. With his mouth muffled, I think he feels more comfortable letting loose.
He’s louder now but his sounds are swallowed by the couch. Those sexy sounds have me plowing into him until his entire body tenses a second before his ass clenches like a vise. It’s so tight that I gasp, and my hips jerk in response. My eyes roll at the strangling feeling.
“Holy fuck,” I grit as he succumbs to his orgasm. It’s such an intense feeling I wasn’t expecting that I’m coming on the tail end of his orgasm. I fuck into him on instinct instead of intent until I’m empty, and finally, I still.
“Jesus,” I mutter. “You do ass exercises, Darwin?”
He snorts, but it sounds breathless.
“This what you had in mind when you asked for friends with benefits?” I ask.
Darwin grunts, nodding. “Give me ten minutes, and you can fuck me again.”
Jesus fuck, yes. This is exactly what I need.