Chapter 10
TEN
Theo Pembroke
Friday night calmed down after a few drinks took the edge off.
I remembered swaying between Asher and Beckett on the dance floor, the press of bodies, the way heat gathered without ever becoming more. Instead of acting on our urges, we saved that sexual tension for today’s filming.
There had been a plan. Beckett and I would grind against each other until we tipped over, Asher filming close enough to catch every breath and twitch. His camera would see both of us through his eyes, and afterward I’d take care of him myself.
Beckett stayed out of it. He wasn’t ready yet. Not with Asher. The way they’d bristled around each other yesterday made that clear, all sharp looks and stubborn silence that barely hid what they didn’t want to admit.
Asher promised he’d stop at one or two drinks. I talked him into four. Something about watching him let loose became addictive, enticing.
Sometime later we were laughing too loudly in my hallway, clothes abandoned along the way, gravity pulling us toward my bed.
Beckett didn’t follow. The space he left behind felt noticeable, like a skipped stair.
Asher and I fell together anyway, limbs tangling in the dark.
I wasn’t used to sleeping with someone. Hookups ended with zippers and goodbyes, not shared warmth and steady breathing.
Asher was the first man who stayed. The first who fit into my nights.
Morning found us like that.
He stirred first, a low sound in his throat, his head shifting against my pillow as awareness crept in. “This isn’t my room,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep. His hand dragged across his face. “How’d we end up here?”
I smiled into his chest, my cheek tucked against skin that was already warm. “We were drunk,” I said. “We undressed. I asked you to stay.” I paused, then added lightly, “You were very cuddly.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, but I felt the moment he went still, checking the situation the same way I was.
Neither of us moved away. That felt like an answer.
Still, my stomach fluttered. We didn’t talk about feelings.
Outside of filming, we were careful. Platonic.
Professional. This felt like stepping into a room we’d both been pretending wasn’t there.
His arm slid around me, slow and tentative at first, then firm, pulling me closer until there was no gap left to wonder about.
“You’re cozy,” he said, half-asleep, as if the thought surprised him.
“I could stay here all morning.” A beat.
Responsibility crept back in. “But I should make breakfast. We’ve got work to do. ”
I made a sound of protest and tightened my hold, already missing this even though he hadn’t moved yet. I wanted to stay right here. I also wanted what today promised.
“Eggs and toast,” I said. “Nothing fancy.”
He kissed my hair before slipping out of bed, casual and dangerous all at once.
I watched as he walked out of my room naked, my eyes glued to his gorgeous, muscular ass.
But when I joined him in the kitchen, a pair of grey sweatpants covered him.
I groaned, watching the monster between his legs swing as he moved around the kitchen, humming a song.
Nothing was hotter to me.
Asher cooked as if it were second nature, moving around the kitchen with quiet confidence.
I watched from the counter, in nothing but a fresh pair of boxers, loving this version of him maybe more than I should.
He said he cooked all the time at home. Beckett and I were opposites.
I was learning, technically, but most of my skill came from following instructions to the letter.
Asher improvised. I specialized in boxed macaroni and cheese and knowing when to call for takeout.
He presented me with a simple but delicious plate that was exactly what I asked for, and I ate it eagerly. The first meal after a night of drinking was the best, especially because we crashed too fast last night to enjoy late-night drunk food. Asher ate across from me in silence.
“I’m going to shower,” Asher said, standing and tossing his plate in the trash. “I’ll handle the dishes later.”
I stood too, still feeling the shift from last night settling somewhere deep in my chest. “What if we showered together? Then we can do the dishes,” I offered.
All I wanted was to be near him. To spend the day beside him doing boring, domestic things that somehow felt important.
I hadn’t expected my feelings to grow like this again, not after Beckett.
I didn’t know if it was possible to fall for two men at once, but the way my heart reacted to both of them made it hard to deny.
I just didn’t know if Asher felt the same.
Maybe he needed space. Maybe he wanted to keep what we had clean and uncomplicated—friends, coworkers, nothing more. Showering together. Sleeping together. It blurred things.
He knew how I got. He’d seen it before—the way I clung when I felt something real. He knew parts of my past Beckett didn’t. He knew how badly I needed touch, how it grounded me, how sex quieted the noise in my head. I’d admitted that to him once, half ashamed, waiting for judgment that never came.
But saying he accepted it was different than proving it.
Soon we’d be recording ourselves. And now that I knew what it felt like to be with him—his hands, his mouth, the way he looked at me—I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold back. I didn’t want him to see that side of me. The one that reached too fast. Wanted too much.
It was one thing for him to say he understood; it was another for him to see how needy I could be.
Asher stopped moving, then turned to face me with wide eyes. I thought I had fucked up, until his lips curled into a smile. “I’d love nothing more.”
I followed him to the shower, where we quickly shed the only piece of clothing we had on.
The temperature was perfect as we entered the large shower.
It wasn’t something sexual. We took turns washing each other, but spent no lingering time on our cocks.
Nothing beyond what we needed, even as he rubbed my crack and prodded my asshole with his soapy fingers.
“I can’t wait to be in here again one day,” he whispered in my ear before pulling away. It was perfectly teasing and flirty, and nothing more happened.
“Are you sure you’re okay with today’s scene? With it being mainly Beckett and I? I can’t wait until the day the three of us are involved.” I groaned at the thought.
“Of course. I watched you suck his dick, didn’t I?” He winked. I shook my head and chuckled. “I know I’m not his biggest fan, but I can’t deny that he’s…hot, I guess. It wouldn’t hurt me if next week we planned a scene together where we share you.”
My knees shook, and I started to fall before Asher caught me. “You like that idea?”
I nodded. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. I can’t wait.”
And I truly couldn’t. I just hoped things didn’t fall apart by then, because I needed this to happen.
Some people had dreams of ending world hunger or finding their soulmate—I dreamed of being railed by Asher and Beckett at once.
And I knew if I got them close enough, they’d be able to work past their rivalry.
***
Asher, being amazing as always, had set up the room while I was in the shower. The camera sat on the nightstand, along with a bottle of lube. Beckett texted that he’d be leaving soon, so I headed to the room thinking I’d have to prepare things.
Much like me, he was wearing nothing but boxers, which I had seen him change into after the shower.
There was no point in us wearing clothes we’d be taking off.
I had a plan for the start of our video.
Less talking this time, except during the scene, but we’d start out kissing on the bed.
It was easy to combine kissing and frotting, and made the experience better.
Fuck, I couldn’t wait to hear him come undone and feel his come on my skin. I wanted to break him apart in the best way. Wanted to be better than any woman he had been with before, so memories of me replaced them. Maybe he’d stay with me if I kept him pleased more than he ever knew was possible.
“Next time we plan for penetration, can I prep you? Maybe teach Beckett how to?” Asher’s question pulled me back down to reality and out of my delusions.
I choked on my own spit and spent a minute coughing before I could think of a response.
It shocked me that he wanted to be that intimate with me after I had done all the work myself so far.
I figured it was easier, but maybe he had wanted that all along and I had deprived him of something he wanted in trying to protect myself.
“Yes, of course,” I answered, my voice cracking.
I loved the idea of Asher prepping me alone, but knowing that he wanted to teach Beckett…that was a new level of hot.
The front door clicked shut, the sound sharp.
I turned to Asher. “Get the camera rolling. I’ll bring Beckett in.”
My voice came out steady. My hands did not. They trembled at my sides, fingers flexing like they were trying to shake off the electricity crawling under my skin. I hadn’t been nervous before. Not really. But now the moment stood in front of me, breathing, waiting.
Beckett was new to all of this. New to the lights.
The lens. The way the room seemed to hum once the red dot blinked on.
Every touch, every instruction, every boundary crossed would be his first. The weight pressed against my ribs.
What if I pushed too far? What if I saw that look in his eyes, the one that meant I’d taken something I couldn’t give back?
And yet.
Being with him like this felt like stepping into a daydream I’d carried for years. My best friend. Close enough to feel the heat of his skin, to memorize the lines of his mouth, even if I knew this wasn’t the kind of story that ended with forever. It was a borrowed moment. A fragile one.