Chapter 26
Tristen
He’s wearing my pants again. My hoodie. My shirt underneath that. Just like he has been all week. Two weeks? Fuck, I’ve lost track of time again.
I don’t think it’s been quite a month but fuck, it sure as shit feels like it’s been a year since I left the stack of my clothes outside the bathroom door for him to wear.
So why do my eyes keep wandering to his side of the bed? Over the way the thick fabric lays across his thigh. The way it bunches around his trim waist and disappears beneath the hoodie that’s too big for him.
He’s worn everything I’ve given him.
That means …
I hike my leg up for the tenth time.
Means he’s been wearing my underwear, too.
My gaze wanders over his hip and for the first time in my life, I wish I’d been born with X-ray vision instead of super strength or speed had I been born a superhero.
God, I’m so fucking worked up.
I hike my other leg to relieve the building pressure in my shorts.
It’s fucking hot laying between these two. Emmett in his full cozy gear and my best friend, the Human Torch. It’s making me sweat.
I roll over to find a cool spot in the bed but end up jamming an elbow into my ribs.
Emmett jerks back.
“Shit, sorry, bub,” I attempt to whisper but it cracks.
Why is my voice so raspy?
“It’s okay. I was in the way,” he whispers back and it’s like a jab to my heart.
“It’s not your fault. It’s this damn bed.”
Since when did we think cramming the three of us back into a full was a good idea? Fucker feels like a twin at this point.
It was one thing when I needed to keep an eye on Hatley. To make sure his ass was still breathing instead of dying in his fucking sleep. But now …
Fuck, I can’t even imagine sleeping in bed by myself again, even if this one is cramped.
“I don’t know, I … um—think it’s nice.”
Tilting my head in Em’s direction, I find him already looking at me with round eyes. A flush highlighted by the nightlight. His hair sleep rumpled, though I think he’s been awake as long as I have.
God, he’s hot.
I suck back a breath at how easy that was to admit in my head.
Does he think the same about me?
“It is nice,” I say and lick my lips. Those honey eyes dip to the movement, just like they did outside the diner, and my dick reacts. “To roll over and not be alone.”
Emmett nods, his hair rustling against the pillow, and yet he still doesn’t look away from my mouth. Or my chin. Maybe it’s my bare collarbones he’s looking at. I’m not sure.
Any way I slice it, though, I find that I like his gaze on me. His eyes trained on me.
“Em …” I rasp out and those honey irises snap to mine. “Have you ever—”
“Jesus Christ,” Hatley grunts, cutting me off, and rustles behind me. “The fucking tension between you two is so thick, it’s making my dick hard.”
I smack my lips and look over my shoulder just in time to see my best friend shove his hand unceremoniously into his flannel PJ pants.
He adjusts but doesn’t remove his hand.
Fuck, I wanna get off so bad.
I blame it on today being hell on my emotions. Exhaustion. The adrenaline still pumping through my veins and keeping me wide awake.
Or maybe … maybe it’s the way Emmett fills out my clothes. That he smells kinda like me and him.
And I like that.
Or more appropriately, I blame it on how when I flop flat to my back and look at Emmett, I find him already watching me.
It makes me shiver.
And it makes me do shit I’ve never even thought of doing before.
Like shoving down the waistband of my shorts and letting my hard cock spring free.
“Hallelujah,” Hatley whispers and does the same. He groans the second his fist is wrapped around himself, but I don’t watch my best friend stroke his cock.
I watch the way Emmett’s wide eyes follow my movements as I fist my own dick and hold it.
“No pressure,” I whisper to the side of his head, and he swallows so hard, I see his throat move in the almost dark room.
When he doesn’t flip out and run for the hills … I cheer internally. Give a testing pump. Groan to the top of his head.
Shit, I’m jerking off between two guys.
“Help him out, Em,” my best friend breathes out almost harshly in encouragement and my heart thunders in my chest.
“Shut up, Hatley,” I hiss.
“C-can I?”
My already slow movements stall and my cock pulses precum at the question from Emmett’s lips.
I shouldn’t.
I shouldn’t be doing any of this. Most certainly should not have my cock out, stroking it, while my best friend and a former patient watch.
Shoulda never brought Em home with me. Or went to his hospital room. Or think about the way his skin feels when he lets me touch him. What it would feel like if he let me touch him for real.
I should say no.
But fuck do I want it.
“Yes.”
Hatley mumbles a curse beside me and adjusts so that he’s angled toward us.
“Move your hand, Ten. Let him touch you.”
God.
Just the thought of Em’s hands on me has me biting my lip as I curl my arms up behind my head.
Hatley pulls the blanket back the rest of the way as Emmett sits up. Leans close. Waits.
A soft silence falls between us, but that doesn’t stop my cock from flexing under the weight of Em’s stare.
“Tell him you’ve never been with a guy before,” Hat whispers, and honey eyes shoot upward.
I shake my head.
“One kiss.”
Hat snorts. “We were six.”
“I-I’ve not … I h-haven’t … not like this,” Emmett stammers out and a part of me instantly feels guilty.
This is too much.
What dude just pulls his cock out in a bed with two other guys and expects anything to happen?
“I’m not gonna touch anyone,” Hatley murmurs, his hands held up in surrender. “Well, except myself. My dick is hard.”
“No pressure,” I whisper again to Emmett’s profile as his eyes trail from my best friend … to me. My chest, down my sternum. Around my throbbing cock. Down my legs.
It makes me squirmy. Antsy.
Hot.
Horny as fucking hell when I hear my best friend grab the lube from his nightstand and slicks his own cock while mine sits stiff and waiting.
“Touch his leg, Em.”
Those honey eyes meet mine, like he’s asking for permission, and I nod.
Fuck, give me something. Anything.
His hand hovers over my thigh. Close enough that I feel the heat, the slight brush of his fingertips along the hair.
My entire body shivers.
And when he finally, finally, plants his palm against my inner thigh, I damn near swallow my tongue.
“That’s it,” my best friend encourages, his words echoed by the click of his sliding fist. “Do you wanna touch more?”
I watch as Emmett’s gaze flicks from where we’re connected to Hatley, then to my face when he says, “Yes.”
A bead of precum leaks from my tip and trails up the sensitive head.
I give another whole-body shake.
“How about his nuts?”
I swallow. Hard.
Oh, fuck.
I’m just fucking trembling at this point and my cock hasn’t even been touched.
“Tristen,” Emmett whispers and its soft, but full of something so damn thick that I bite back a groan.
“Please, Em,” I nearly beg. “You have my permission. Just … please.”