Chapter 10
Captain’s Hall, Freedom
Shay
“Hellraiseris a bloody brilliant love story,” I say, brightly. “Okay, it’s a toxic romance, but that only shows love can be dangerous sometimes. I like the thought that love can last, even after death.”
Even more bloody brilliant is the way that I’m sprawled on the crushed velvet couch with my head resting on D’Angelo’s hard chest. My arm is slung across his middle.
I hope that I haven’t drooled on his expensive looking silk shirt.
“You’re a strange puppy,” D’Angelo drawls.
“I thought that I was your cucciolo.”
I’m staring avidly at the flat screen television that hangs on the wall in the lounge in Captain’s Hall. It’s a thing of beauty. Eden and I would have killed for a television this size, when we were teenagers.
Moonlight streams through the windows over the room, which is so grand that I always feel like I’ll get in trouble even for sitting down on the heavy, purple and black furniture.
A gilt mirror gleams above a fireplace, which reflects back the in-built bookcases that are Eden’s favorite part of the room.
I know that they’re his favorite because he hovers around them every evening like he’s in heaven.
I hover around the black Steinway grand piano.
I never thought that I’d love a piano most. But it’s like an extension of D’Angelo.
When D’Angelo can’t express how he’s feeling in words, he plays the piano. Sometimes, he composes.
I like to go for a run or kick some football with Eden on the lawn, but D’Angelo plays some beautiful shit that makes me feel things that I never have before.
I always wanted to learn guitar but I knew that Dad didn’t have the cash for shit like that. I couldn’t ask him. It would have been unfair.
It felt like learning music wasn’t for people like me.
D’Angelo says, however, that he’s going to teach me. He thinks that I can. So, maybe I’m wrong.
Plus, sitting on the piano stool is where I told D’Angelo and Robyn that I wanted to be with both of them.
It’s where I kissed them for the first time.
I was so fucking scared.
Terrified like I haven’t been in years.
It was like jumping out of a plane without a parachute, only neither of them let me hit the ground.
They caught me with their acceptance and love.
Fuck, I love them both.
I wrinkle my nose at the smoky, sweet scent of the fire, and my eyes sting. I wish that it wasn’t masking D’Angelo’s masculine, whiskey scent.
Since we started the film, D’Angelo’s been clutching onto a glass of whiskey.
Is that a sign of how much the movie is scaring him?
This is our first date though. It’s special. And he looks fucking gorgeous in a crisp, navy pinstriped suit.
I’ve even dressed up for this date myself. I’m wearing my favorite punky red shirt (the one with strategic rips in it over the nipples and stomach), and tightest black jeans that I own.
Eden repainted my nails for me in silence but with an intense concentration that told me it was important to him.
I hope that D’Angelo appreciates the adventure I had in the shower cleaning myself out in case this date goes as well as I hope that it will.
The madras curry that we cooked together was perfection. It was just like the curry that I’d get in England with Eden.
I don’t know why D’Angelo only managed a few bites, before diving to the fridge and downing all the milk that we possessed.
Is it toxic masculinity to feel proud that I can eat a hotter curry than him?
Still, it was hard to feel dominant in any way, when I was squirming on my chair to the unfamiliar feeling of the small plug in my arse.
D’Angelo dropped the plug off earlier with a wicked smile. “Just something to loosen your sweet, tight hole.”
I didn’t know that I could both flush so red…or get hard that quickly.
Still, only D’Angelo could say things like that to me and not get punched in the dick.
I’m fucking obsessed.
When the credits roll on the movie, I sneak a kiss onto D’Angelo’s chest.
Scary movies are the best excuse to get close to someone, even someone as bristly as D’Angelo.
He’s been playing with my hair, and I’m not even sure that he’s noticed.
I fucking love it.
I peer up at him and then laugh, when I realize that his eyes are closed.
I discretely cough. “You can look now, darlin’. It’s finished.”
“Thank Christ.” D’Angelo’s beautiful eyes snap open.
When he takes a deep swig of whiskey, I can’t look away from the way that he swallows and his throat bobs.
“You could have told me that horror movies weren’t your thing,” I say, casually.
“Why would I have missed out on using you as a plushie, while giving myself nightmares for the next…forever?”
“I did think for a moment there that you’d had second thoughts about us.” I push myself up to sit straighter.
D’Angelo arches his brow. “What could have given you that idea?”
“I don’t know. Possibly, your mad dash to hide in the bathroom and…wild guess here…call Robyn for urgent advice.”
D’Angelo moves his hand to the back of my neck, squeezing just on the edge of too hard.
I melt.
It’s the casual possessiveness of the gesture that I bloody love.
“Where would any of us be without her?” D’Angelo admits without any shame. “She’s the reason that I came back in here and negotiated to watch the rest of the film but with a drink in my hand and on subtitles only. The only thing that I have experience with is negotiations. I get to choose the movie for the second date. It’s going to be a comedy.”
Called it.
And second date? So, this must be going well then.
I glow, as happiness surges through me. “Don’t worry, darlin’, I’ll protect you from the things that go bump in the night or want to drag you to hell.”
D’Angelo tightens his hand on my neck; the wicked look in his eyes makes me feel like I could come untouched. “You forget, I’m a fallen angel, which means that you should be scared of me.”
“Sorry,” I shrug, “sort of hard, when horror villains were like my babysitters. Mum and Dad had to work night shifts. Eden always had his nose in a book. So, I was left watching late night TV.”
D’Angelo gentles his hold, running his hand up into my hair. “There’s a lot that we still need to find out about each other, huh?”
I nod. “I figure that curry isn’t your style, either. I wanted to share that meal with you, however, because Eden and I would save up each term, so we’d have enough to eat out at this Indian place in Guildford in the final week. Money was bloody tight, but we’d worked hard in both our college courses and on the ice; we deserved to have something good, right?”
How can D’Angelo understand?
He’s wealthy. He has everything. I must sound like trash to him.
Without meaning to, I wrench away from D’Angelo, wincing as a couple of my golden hairs are pulled out in his grasp.
I edge away from him on the sofa to put some distance between us.
Normally, it’s Eden who has difficulty with talking, not me.
Yet this is different.
I’m trying not to hide behind my sunny mask.
Eden, who’s up in our room right now giving D’Angelo and me some time alone, advised me to allow D’Angelo to see beneath that.
It’s hard.
I’ve managed it with Robyn but it’s more difficult with another guy to let down my defenses. It’s even worse with the man who I fucking idolize.
A man who I’ve respected, looked up to, and watched playing in the NHL, throughout college.
I had D’Angelo’s picture as my screensaver. I’m not telling him that.
Perhaps, I always had a crush on him, in the same way that I have one on Tom Hiddleston and Idris Elba, and simply hadn’t worked out that side of my sexuality yet.
D’Angelo is watching me warily. “You deserve everything, cucciolo.”
Is that how life has worked for him? You get what you deserve?
I wish.
If that was true, then Eden wouldn’t have been beaten so hard and repeatedly as a kid, while I was locked in the room next door banging and screaming until I lost my voice trying to get to him, that he can’t skate now because one more concussion could kill him.
But then, Eden was the one who never spoke. The bastards who had us locked up liked that about him. They had a contest going to see who could get him to speak first.
Neither of them won that bet.
I have a sick satisfaction about that.
If we got what we deserve, then they’d be dead, and Eden would have a place on the Bay Rebels team and a mansion filled with books and cats.
One day, I’m going to buy him that.
I need D’Angelo to understand.
Why is he even trying to date me? He already has Robyn, and she’s bloody perfect.
She’s beautiful and smart.
She doesn’t have the type of baggage that I do. D’Angelo and her come from the same background. They’ve known and loved each other since college.
How can I compete?
If D’Angelo wants to fuck me, then I’m fine with that. He doesn’t need to pretend that this is an actual relationship.
No one has wanted that from me. I’m still pinching myself that Robyn does.
“I know what I deserve.” I cross my arms. “You shouldn’t have to deal with… The guys on my college hockey team weren’t keen on having me around. I know that I’m an adorable ball of sunshine, but back then, they didn’t like two odd twins with poor clothes who could never pay for their round at the bar being their teammates.”
D”Angelo’s eyes flash with anger. “Assholes. I wish that I could kick them in the balls for you. But you know that I had the same problems. Talon took delight in telling you about the way that I was hazed for being a scholarship student, as if it would shame me. But it didn’t. The shame is all on those bastards. You and I aren’t so different. Come on, scoot back here.”
When he holds out his hand to me, I take it and edge closer to him on the couch again.
My eyes light up because he’s right.
“The scholarship brothers.” I clink an imaginary whiskey glass with D’Angelo’s. “We can reclaim that and make it cool, right?”
“I’ll let you believe that,” D’Angelo takes a long drink of his whiskey, effortlessly elegant, “along with the fact that cool is in any way a cool word to use.”
I laugh, relaxing.
Is it a good thing that we’re bonding over our shitty pasts?
Definitely.
It’s like being on a date with your best friend who also makes you want to rip off their clothes.
On instinct, I lean closer to him.
Our gazes meet, and his becomes heated.
My heart hammers.
Before D’Angelo, I’d never kissed a man. I didn’t think that I wanted to.
But it’s not any man who I want to kiss.
It’s him, D’Angelo.
Jude.
I let out a shuddering breath, before I clutch onto the front of his silky shirt, needing something to anchor myself.
D’Angelo angles his lips toward mine. I brush my lips against his.
It’s not enough.
He rests his strong hand against my neck, where I’m so sensitive, and I relax against him.
I can feel that he’s letting me lead.
I kiss him again and again, drinking in his breath, scent, and taste. I’m greedy for everything that he can give me, as he grows impatient, taking over and deepening the kiss.
I slide my hands up to his shoulders.
Then I pull back, before I won’t be able to stop myself unbuttoning his shirt like I’ve been desperate to do all evening.
D’Angelo’s pupils are dark and dilated. “You have no idea what kissing you like this…being on a date with you…means to me.” Unexpectedly, a cloud crosses his expression, which I don’t understand. He reaches to touch my face like I’m a ghost and he’s already lost me. “I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone hurting you, simply for wanting to kiss me.”
My heart speeds up.
He’s tapping the side of the glass in patterns of three. He does that when he’s anxious.
It looks like he’s remembering something, and it’s not a good memory. I should know.
Eden gets the same look sometimes.
My brow furrows. “No one’s going to. Jude, are you with me? Are you okay, darlin’? Is this about my parents? Because even though I haven’t told them about my bisexuality yet, I’m sure that they wouldn’t hurt me. They’ve never raised their hand to me.”
There’s a look in his eye, when I say that, which makes my stomach twist.
Someone in D’Angelo’s family has raised their hand to him.
Was it his parents?
Is this why he never mentions them? Why they don’t call?
Rage slams through me.
It shakes me how powerful it is. I’ve only felt this protective toward two people before: Eden and Robyn.
“Good.” D’Angelo looks like he’s battling with whether to tell me something, before he forces himself to continue, “But it’s hard because mine did. They caught me kissing a boy. So, they sent me to this school for troubled teens. It was hell being trained and conditioned like a dog. I haven’t told Robyn everything that happened there. I was tortured with ice and heat to make me averse to images of men kissing.”
“Shit.” I tighten my hold on his hand.
I don’t ever want to let go.
I don’t know if he’s shaking or I am.
“As you can see,” D’Angelo kisses me, slow and tender, “it didn’t fucking work.”
“You’re an incredible man,” I murmur against his lips, “strong and brave.”
“This is why you’re my favorite player on the team; you know how to compliment fellow players.” He looks down, and his curls brush my cheek. “I’d give anything to allow you the chance to experiment, explore, and have fun without shame or fear.”
“You are.”
He puffs out a breath in relief. “Excellent. Will you move in with me?”
He appears mildly startled that he’s blurted the words.
“Ehm, aren’t we living together now?”
D’Angelo’s cheeks are tinted pink. “I meant after the season ends. You could move into my actual house in Freedom. I do have one, you know. I’d like to take you all there and show you. I think that you’ll like it. I need you. As a friend, boyfriend, and lover. I want us to be a family — Robyn, Eden, me…and you.”
He holds his breath like there’s a chance that I’d say no.
He’s shared something painful from his past about what went on at the school that he’d been sent away to, and by the look in his eyes, he’s never told anyone else.
Eden and I have held onto our own secrets for long enough for me to know that.
Then he’s opened his home to my twin and me, asking us to become his family.
I’m lost now.
This is deeper than love.
I feel safe and secure with this man in a way that can’t be undone.
Have you ever fallen in trust?
My eyes are burning with happy tears. My heart swells.
“We’ll have to talk to the others, but you’re already my family.” I grin. My mouth aches, but I can’t stop grinning. “You do know that I’ll probably break all your expensive shit within a week.”
D’Angelo smiles, genuine and relaxed. “Don’t worry, that’ll give me an excuse to spank your adorable ass.”
I mock gasp. “Monster.”
“I thought that you liked monsters.” D’Angelo’s expression suddenly becomes dangerous. Fuck. “And this demon wants to carry you to hell.”
“And I want to be carried. Only…” I lick my dry lips. “I’ve never…”
“I know.”
This is my first time.
I’m suddenly very aware of the plug in my arse.
D’Angelo’s expression becomes darkly dominant. “Let me show you how this can work. How I can wreck you with pleasure.”
And doesn’t that just shoot straight to my crotch?
I shift, trying to hide how hard I am in my tight trousers. Of course, D’Angelo smirks, glancing significantly downward.
Bastard.
He lets go of my hand, sprawling on the couch like he’s a king.
He crosses his legs. “Strip.”
Now, this I do know how to do.
I leap up eagerly. “I thought that you’d never ask, darlin’.”
I pull off my t-shirt with one hand as seductively as I can manage, before shimmying down my jeans.
I can’t smother my grin, when D’Angelo’s breath catches.
I decided to go commando tonight.
There’s something about standing here naked in front of D’Angelo for his inspection, while he sits comfortably in his suit sipping whiskey, which is seriously turning me on.
“Do I pass?” I grin, cheekily.
“Put your hands at your side,” D’Angelo replies. “Don’t cover yourself.” I flush but obey him. “Good boy.”
Those two words.
They make me feel warm and fuzzy inside in a way that nothing else can.
I’d do almost anything to make him — or Robyn — say them.
I struggle to stand still and earn his praise again.
I search D’Angelo’s expression to see if I’m doing the right thing. He appears cold, but his eyes are warm.
“Look at you, standing still and letting me see how hard you are merely at the thought of me fucking your tight, virgin hole.” D’Angelo doesn’t let me flinch away from his piercing gaze.
I redden.
But he’s not wrong.
My cock is already curved against my stomach and dripping precum.
D’Angelo lazily twirls his finger. “Turn around for me, pet. Show me that you obeyed my instructions and are wearing my gift.”
“Fuck,” I breathe.
I take a steadying breath.
Then I turn around with as much of a sway of my hips as I can because I know that my arse looks good but I don’t expect D’Angelo’s next command.
“Now, bend over, spread your legs, and let me see.”
I hesitate.
This isn’t any different to his commands as my captain on the ice.
I lick my wet lips, bending at the waist and spreading my legs. “Yes, Sir.”
D’Angelo growls, surging up from the sofa.
I have power too.
I know that Sir has as much of an impact on him as good boy does on me.
I feel smug for about three seconds, before D’Angelo grabs me by the arm and is dragging me around the couch.
I stumble after him.
Then he’s pushing me down over the back of the couch.
Perhaps, I’m in for that spanking after all.
I steady myself with my arms on the couch cushions.
D’Angelo’s fingers tease around the edges of the plug.
Even the light touch is intense.
To my shock, I feel a trickle of whiskey and the last of the ice in D’Angelo’s glass fall onto my lower back. It pools, before trailing down my ass crack.
“Shit,” I hiss.
“That’s what you get for teasing me, pet,” D’Angelo murmurs.
He ducks behind me, licking a hot stripe down my back along the path of the ice.
I shake. My skin is tingling. I’m breathing rapidly.
“And this is what you get for obeying me, cucciolo.” His voice is rich with promise.
He swirls his tongue over the whiskey that’s pooled on my lower back. Then my eyes widen in shock, when his tongue continues to chase the alcohol that’s trailed around the plug and over my balls.
The sensation is enough to make me jolt with pleasure.
If that’s what I get, then I’m going to be really fucking obedient.
I can feel D’Angelo’s hot breath against my balls.
When his cool fingers nudge at the plug, I can feel that he’s lubed them up. I bet that the sneaky bastard had lube in his pocket all along.
At last, he moves to ease out the plug but then hesitates. Instead, he toys with it. The movement sends sparks through me. He’s deliberately pressing it against my prostate.
D’Angelo pushes the plug in and out of me for a couple of minutes, until I’m curling my toes in a blissed out state.
“If you don’t want me to come yet,” I pant, “then you’d better stop teasing me.”
D’Angelo smacks me crisply on the hip. “Don’t come, until I tell you.”
“Then don’t make me.”
To my relief, he eases the plug fully out of me.
I hear a thunk, which I think is him throwing the plug to the floor. Then the rip of a condom packet being opened.
I knew that I could piss him off enough to fuck me.
Only, he replaces the plug with his finger and he’s back to slowly stretching me out again.
One finger, two, then three.
I raise my head to glare over my shoulder at him.
Then I wish that I hadn’t because the sight of D’Angelo standing looking so elegant and in control in his suit almost makes me come on the fucking spot.
“You don’t have to be gentle with me,” I say. “I won’t break.”
He arches his brow. “This is your first time with a guy. You may. And I want to be gentle.” He leans over me, whispering low and dangerous, “Just don’t get used to it.”
Hot and cold flushes through me.
I twist, trying to raise my body over the couch. I’m desperate for D’Angelo to kiss me…fuck me…something.
He takes mercy on me, capturing my lips with his.
D’Angelo’s kiss is controlled and like he’s staking his claim.
He slips his hand under my throat, pulling me up toward his chest, just as he thrusts into me.
It punches the breath from me.
He holds me in place, not moving for a long moment.
It doesn’t hurt, but I feel fuller than I ever have. Despite all the preparation, there’s a burning stretch.
But I want this.
I need to feel him.
“Okay?” He turns my head, tightening his grip on my throat and kissing me again.
I don’t think that I can talk but I nod.
“Words,” D’Angelo says sharply, thrusting into me again.
It’s too much and not enough at the same time.
This is the missing piece of the jigsaw. I was scared that it wouldn’t feel right. But it does.
It bloody does.
“Brilliant.” I smile, kissing D’Angelo back. “Harder, darlin’.”
He appears to take this as permission to break me because he fucks into me harder and deeper and faster.
I’m trapped against the back of the couch and by D’Angelo’s arm across my throat, holding me to his chest.
Yet I feel safe held like this.
His cock’s deep inside me and it’s sending sparks through me, which is making intense waves of pleasure wash through me deep inside.
“Please…” I’m begging. I’ve never felt anything like this before. I can’t tip over into coming. “Please, Jude…”
“I’ve got you.” D’Angelo’s voice is so bloody tender. He pulls me back from the couch to slip his hand to my cock, then he’s wanking me off at the same that he fucks into me, slower now and deep. Perfect. “Come for me, my good boy.”
And on his command, I do.
Jude D’Angelo.
My captain. My boyfriend. My sex god.
I know then, as I’m still shaking with the aftershocks, that I’m fucking screwed because I’m in love with both Robyn and D’Angelo.
The type of love that you never fall out of.