Chapter 11 #3
Lane rubbed a thumb against Trevor’s ankle bone, stroking it. Wondering if he could tell him everything else he felt by osmosis. He’d never been good at voicing his feelings, and he was even worse with Trevor, because he’d spent way too fucking long swallowing it all down, over and over again.
“Yeah, I do,” Lane said.
Trevor shot him a look. Still fond, but more challenging around the edges. Maybe the demon twins nickname had come about because he’d not handled being in denial well, but the thing about Trevor was he’d never let Lane go without challenging him. Not when he deserved challenging.
Maybe that had scared him before. It still scared him a little bit. But it was good, too.
“Come on,” Trevor said. “That’s all you’ve got?”
“You asked me if I liked it, and obviously I do,” Lane retorted.
“We said we were experimenting and we did,” Trevor said.
Lane couldn’t help it. He tensed, and this time, because he was touching Trevor, caressing his ankle while also trying to act like he wasn’t literally holding him in place, Trevor didn’t miss it.
“What?” Trevor asked.
“You said, did,” Lane admitted. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was enough. Trevor wasn’t stupid.
“What, do you think I’m gonna . . . wanna stop?” Trevor laughed. “I don’t want to stop. That’s the whole point. We experimented with sex. And that was good.”
“That was great,” Lane agreed.
“And then we kinda started experimenting with other things, too,” Trevor said. His voice wobbled just a little, and it suddenly occurred to Lane that Trevor was afraid too.
Afraid, maybe, that Lane wouldn’t like this conversation. Wouldn’t like what lay at the end of it.
But Lane needed to know, for sure. For sure. “Like what?” Lane asked.
“Don’t be stupid,” Trevor said. There was another one of those looks. “You know with what. The dinners and the cuddling and the sleeping in the same bed. All that other stuff. The relationship stuff.”
Lane didn’t tense, but he did freeze. “Uh, what?”
He couldn’t miss how Trevor took a deep breath. Like he was nervous and maybe even terrified and he was going to say whatever was on his mind anyway.
And God, God, Lane was so crazy about him. Not just how gorgeous he was. How much he liked touching him and being touched by him. But how good he was. Even when he was a little self-righteous about it, Lane was still super into it.
“I like it. I want more of it. I want it with you. But—”
Despite many people who might argue the opposite, Lane was not stupid. He wasn’t about to wait around to hear what the but was—not when Trevor finally, finally wanted him.
Before Trevor could get the but part of his statement out, Lane leaned over and kissed him.
Trevor made a startled noise against his mouth, but then relaxed into the kiss, pulling Lane right along with him.
It was hot, because it always seemed to be hot between them, but it was relaxed too, easy in a way that it hadn’t ever been before. Like they could both take a deep breath and just enjoy it, because they were finally on the same page.
Trevor pulled back, eyes shining. “You going to actually answer me?” he teased lightly.
A grumble rose in Lane’s throat. Of course Trevor wanted him to actually say it.
“Thought I did,” Lane said, leaning in and nipping at Trevor’s mouth again.
It was obvious Trevor wasn’t bothered by the smile on his face, but he said, “Maybe I want you to say it. Out loud.”
“Gonna get demanding in the first sixty seconds?”
Trevor laughed then. “We’ve just been doing a lot—”
“Thought you enjoyed that too,” Lane said, waggling his eyebrows in a very stupid way he wouldn’t have dared to do otherwise, but Trevor liked him.
Wanted to be with him. It felt too good to be true, but it wasn’t, because he was sitting right here, on the couch, practically in Lane’s lap, grinning delightedly.
Such a dream come true Lane felt like pinching himself about it.
“And I expect a lot more of it,” Trevor continued smugly, like Lane hadn’t even said anything, “but I want us to be on the same page.”
“Same page, baby,” Lane said, and kissed him again, long and deep. He wouldn’t say that was exactly true, because Lane had been wanting this for years and years and years, and had never ever thought he’d get it. But Trevor wanting it now, that was plenty good enough.
Lane was just about to drag him fully onto his lap. The game had gone to the second intermission, and besides, they both knew how it ended since Ramsey had played in it yesterday. They could absolutely have some couch sex celebrating getting together.
But then Trevor opened his mouth again. “I was thinking how we’d tell Dad and Delia, and I wanted your take—”
“What,” Lane said flatly. “What.”
Trevor shot him a look. “I know you wanna have sex, but we need to talk about this.”
“No, what,” Lane said. He did not exclaim.
He did not freak out. That wasn’t what he was doing.
Definitely not. There wasn’t panic streaking through him at the thought his mom and Tom would know everything.
That Trevor wanted to just tell them, like it was nothing.
No big deal at all. When, for years, Lane had kept it all to himself, had swallowed down every single time he’d been even tempted to let a fragment of what he felt out—
And suddenly he couldn’t breathe.
Someone was gasping horribly, like they were dying.
That someone, that was him, Lane realized.
Trevor realized it a second after him, and before Lane could even begin to figure out what to do—never mind what to say, though getting words out of his excruciatingly tight throat would’ve been impossible, anyway—Trevor was in his lap, settling over his thighs like he belonged there, hands on Lane’s shoulders, expression intent.
“Breathe, Lane, breathe,” he said, tracing soothing circles with his fingertips. “It’s okay, it’s really okay.”
Lane shuddered out one breath. And then another. And then a third. Each one felt a little easier, though none of them felt easy.
It felt like it took long minutes but he got there, and the whole time, Trevor’s eyes never left his and his touch never left Lane’s skin.
Finally, Lane slumped back against the couch, feeling like a puppet with its strings cut. Emptied out completely, without even the capacity to lose his shit that Trevor might freak out about him totally losing it.
But Trevor did say, cautiously and quietly, “Are you okay?”
In this exact moment, yes. He was okay. But there was a whole bunch of ugly anxiety that he didn’t want to touch. A can of worms he knew Trevor would want to open up. A can of worms he probably should want to open up, if he was being bluntly honest with himself.
“I guess so.”
Trevor’s look sharpened a bit. “You guess so?”
“It’s complicated,” Lane said, sighing.
“No shit. You just had a panic attack when I suggested that we tell our parents that we’re dating.”
Lane opened his mouth to retort that of fucking course he did. They were stepbrothers! But at the last second, he didn’t, because while that did have something to do with it, it was more, too.
It was too many years of pretending he didn’t like Trevor like that, thinking and hoping and wishing it would go away, so he would never have to tell them.
It was the lingering resentment—that he knew wasn’t even fair—that Tom had been the one to make his mom’s dreams come true.
To give her the life she’d always deserved.
It was how many times he should have gone home, and didn’t.
“Lane, you can take your time, but I want you to talk to me. When you’re ready. But . . .” Trevor finally, finally, for the first time since Lane had totally lost his shit, glanced away. But Lane was pretty sure he saw fear in his eyes before he did.
“But what?” he asked, reaching out and putting a hand on Trevor’s back, inching him a bit closer, until their chests were pressed together.
Stroking up and down it, he hoped that would be enough encouragement for Trevor to tell him what he was worried about, though Lane could probably guess.
It was him. It was all the baggage they’d been carrying around since putting their family together six years ago.
“I want it to be simple, but it’s not, right? It’s not for you.”
“Simple?” Lane huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. No.”