Chapter 48 Trouble #2
“We’re nearly there. Soon there’ll be no more right hand and no more phone sex for me.
” I smile at their two handsome faces. “Just real sex. Hot, sweaty, messy, real-as-hell sex. I’m gonna fuck you both until you can’t walk.
” Mat’s eyes glaze over, and Will tucks his chin toward his chest and swallows hard.
“In fact.” I pause dramatically as the idea takes hold.
“I think it would be best for the two of you to rest up. You should probably start resting now. You’re going to need it for what I’m going to unleash on you. ”
Will’s breathing changes and he’s suddenly looking a lot less worn out than he was a few minutes ago. He runs his fingers through Mat’s hair reflexively, twirling a thick lock and then tugging it gently.
“Hey, no more of that!” I say sharply.
“Huh?” Mat frowns.
“Yeah, you heard me, bad boys. No more of that until we’re all together. Just hugs and kisses for the two of you until I’m in the room with you. Just, what did you call them, Mattie? Good cuddles.”
Will starts to chuckle. His eyes flicker darkly, the way they always do when something he’s really, really into is happening.
“Seriously, Trouble?” Mat looks panicked. “D’you have any idea how horny the good cuddles make me?”
“Why’d you think I like giving them to you so much?” Will pulls Mat closer and makes him nestle his head into his chest, planting a light kiss on his forehead.
“And why’d you think I like watching them so much?”
I run my hand slowly down my chest, moving the phone so the camera follows it.
My erection fills the screen. I trace the head with the pad of my finger, nudging it into the slit and then lifting it to show Will and Mat how it glistens.
I smile as two big boys shuffle closer to the phone.
They’re so close to the screen, their faces are slightly distorted and I can see up their nostrils a lot more than normal.
They’re so close that I can hear Will’s breathing change from smooth and rhythmic to ragged, and I see a single dimple dip in Mat’s cheek, tensing and relaxing as his jaw starts to work.
I stand on the curb and look up at their building.
My building. Our building, I guess. The smooth white facade, the art deco lines, and the curved balconies are familiar and reassuring to me now.
How many times have I stood here looking up, thoughts ranging from what the fuck am I doing back here to I’ll die if I don’t see them?
It feels different this time. It’s weighted with exhaustion, relief, and a strong sense of knowing that I could not have traveled one more mile.
Not one more foot. Not one more step. It’s not just that I didn’t want to.
It’s that it was physically impossible for me to survive one more day without them.
Will and Mat wrestle my luggage out of the car as I stand holding a huge bunch of flowers and a crumpled sign that reads: Welcome home, Hot-ness.
“You ready?” asks Mat as he unlocks the front door. His face has been shining with excitement since the second I saw him. Will kept rolling his eyes at him, but as I was crammed between the two of them on the drive from the airport, I couldn’t help noticing he didn’t scowl once. Not even a little.
They bundle me inside, and instead of leading me to one of the bedrooms to put down my bags, they drop them at the door and guide me to the living room.
“W-what?” I exclaim when I take in the space.
It’s been entirely transformed. The mismatched chairs have been sanded down and revarnished, giving the dining area the cohesive, intentional look it was sorely lacking before.
The porn sofa is gone, replaced by the sofa I put into storage at Luke and Jessie’s.
The creamy tones lighten the entire room and the large woven rug beneath it anchors and warms the space.
As I cast my gaze around, my eyes start to feel incredibly dry from being on the plane.
Things I’ve collected over the years are dotted here and there.
The ceramic anatomical vase I love, because it reminds me of Eric Northman’s affinity to pluck hearts out of chests, has been placed on the coffee table.
The bone-inlay console table my mom bought in India stands at the entrance of the room with a large lamp and a long oval wooden bowl that Will and Mat have put their wallets and keys in.
Will’s on the left.
Mat’s on the right.
A space in the middle for mine.
“D-did you guys do this?”
“Nah,” says Will. “We’re shit at this stuff. Luke recommended we get Izzy to help us.”
“Come on! There’s more.” Mat all but skips down the hall to the bathroom.
I peer in and can scarcely believe my eyes. The bathroom has been completely redone. It’s sleek and modern with a clean, masculine edge. The awful, pointless little bath is gone and has been replaced by a double shower.
“It’s definitely big enough for two,” says Will, “but it will probably be a bit of a squeeze for three. I think we can make it work tho—”
I raise my hand to my lips and elaborately faux gasp. “Don’t you know me at all? I’m the queen of tight spaces. Kind of have a thing for it, actually. You, of all people, should know that. Love squeezing myself into snug little places you wouldn’t think I’d fit into.”
Mat giggles, grabbing both my ass cheeks and kneading them firmly as he spins me around. The old bathroom counter has been replaced with a vanity and double sink.
Will points to the far sink. “That side is yours, Trouble.”
“Will and I are going to share this side,” explains Mat, “because neither of us has a particular need for a large assortment of products.”
“I just, I don’t…I don’t know what to say,” I stammer. I feel completely overwhelmed. My heart is somersaulting wildly in my chest, and I’m starting to suspect the situation with my eyes has nothing to do with the flight.
“Come on. We saved the best for last,” says Will.
“There’s more? How did you do all this?”
“Our bonuses were paid a couple of weeks after you left. They were pretty good.”
“That’s an understatement. Will’s bonus was amazing. Mine was average, but considering how much I’ve been slacking since the day we met you, I was pretty surprised to get one at all. Don’t know what management was thinking. Kind of judge them for it if I’m being totally honest.”
“You haven’t been that bad. They’re lucky to have you,” Will says to Mat and then turns to me. “Izzy helped a lot by getting designer discounts and passing them on to us.”
Will’s eyes crease fondly, and he gives the back of Mat’s neck a gentle squeeze. “Come on. Bedroom.”
The door swings open, and for a second, I feel like I’m in the wrong apartment.
Everything is completely different. The room is massive, for one thing.
They’ve knocked down the wall separating the two rooms. The room has been painted a dark, moody plum color.
There’s an enormous bed on the side of the room that used to be Will’s.
It’s swathed in white linen that matches the curtains.
“Jesus,” I say. “How big is that bloody bed?”
“It’s a solid foot and a half wider than a standard king.” Will looks exceedingly pleased. “Izzy really hooked us up.”
As happy as I am about the size of the bed, I’m having some difficulty processing my emotions about the art that hangs above it.
It’s an oversized piece that has Jessie’s distinctive style splashed all over it.
In the center, there’s a man with long dark hair and a not-quite-angelic look on his face.
His eyes are closed and he has his middle fingers and thumbs pressed together in a meditative pose.
He’s flanked on both sides by the sweetest of blunt instruments.
One’s boyish and charming. A head full of curls and a face that’s creased into a killer smile.
The other is dark and menacing. Black eyes and white teeth.
He has his brows drawn down low in a sultry scowl.
Both of them are leaning in, coming in for a kiss and a bite, respectively.
“It’s the plane,” I blubber, blinking several times over when my eyes sting in earnest. “Or, maybe it’s the flowers.” I sniff loudly as my eyes start streaming. “I must be allergic. I’m not usually allergic, but maybe it’s the time of year and the flowers and all the flying and…”
Mat and Will are beside me in an instant.
Mat’s on my left and Will’s on my right.
Soft lips brush against my cheek, leaving a light scraping of stubble in their wake.
Will tilts his head and drags his teeth slowly along the edge of my jawbone.
I lean into both of them in turn and feel the solid warmth of their bodies against mine.
It feels so good and so known and so much like home that I honestly can’t tell if it’s making my allergies feel better or worse.
When I’ve collected myself, I take in the rest of the room. There are two leather club chairs at the foot of the bed, and the remaining walls of the space that used to be Mat’s room have been clad in floor-to-ceiling closets.
“We heard that someone we love is partial to a pair of shoes.” Mat smiles.
“Mmm, and that they enjoy fashion a little more than most.”
“What do you think of the color on the walls?” asks Will.
“Izzy chose it,” says Mat, “‘cause it’s called Aubergine Dream. Izzy said it was a no-brainer for us on account of the fact we’re all such big fans of eggplants.”
I chuckle and wipe my eyes. “Love that for us. And Izzy’s right.
It looks amazing, but you can’t seriously hope to distract me with talk about paint colors and eggplants.
” I look at them accusingly and then cast my gaze on the glinting metal pole in the center of the room.
“Is that a stripper pole in our new bedroom?”
“‘Course it is,” says Will. “We can’t have you dragging that smokin’ ass all the way across town for rehearsal.”
“No.” Mat shakes his head solemnly. “We can’t have that. We’re very supportive like that.”
“So you bought these lovely chairs and placed them here because you think you’re going to kick back and watch me work up a sweat, is that right?”
“Pretty much.” Will nods.
“They’re multipurpose, really,” Mat says brightly. “We’re also planning on sitting on them when you give us lap dances.”
“Yeah, but just to be clear, we want the kind of lap dances where touching’s allowed.” Will’s voice deepens, and I feel his warm breath on my neck.
I turn to face them, placing my hands gently on each of their chests. As soon as their eyes glaze over, I clench my fists, taking them both roughly by the collar and pushing them down into the new leather armchairs, rousing a soft “oof” from each of them.
As soon as I’m positive I have their undivided attention, I unbutton my shirt and let it slide slowly down one shoulder at a time.
“Believe me, bad boys”—I cackle with pleasure that would put a Disney villain to shame—“when it comes to the lap dances I give, touching is not only allowed, it’s fully expected.”