Chapter 2 Oliver
Oliver
The three brothers had been talking rather intensely in Greyson’s office for close to an hour. They weren’t fighting—thank god—but they clearly had some strong opinions that needed sorting out.
I was content to ignore them for the most part.
I was still basking in the afterglow of what had just happened. Plus, I was curled up with Lane in his bed, cozy and warm under soft blankets, so there were more important things to focus on than our loud husbands.
From here in Lane’s bedroom, their voices were faint enough that if I tried, I could block them out entirely.
I’d worried at first, definitely concerned they’d all stab each other, but Lane seemed to think they’d be okay, so I’d left them to it.
Lane was currently napping, and instead of trying to fall asleep myself, I’d snuggled up close and watched—not creepily—as he got some much-needed rest. Technically speaking, I probably needed the rest more than he did, having two husbands and all, but I just couldn’t look away from my friend.
He was so beautiful.
Lane’s long auburn lashes rested against his cheeks, his makeup somehow still perfect after all that.
His mouth was parted just slightly, breath slow and even.
I mapped the constellation of freckles across his face with my eyes, my fingers itching to reach out and count every one.
Soft red hair framed his face, the shiny loose curls falling just past his nipples.
I shifted just enough to tuck the blanket higher over Lane’s pale shoulder. I moved slowly, careful not to wake him, my hand hovering for a moment before settling. He didn’t stir—just made a soft, almost inaudible sound and turned a fraction closer, as if he’d been seeking me even in sleep.
I stayed very still after that, my heart thudding a little too loudly in my ears.
I’d always been good at wanting things quietly. It was a skill you learned when the things you wanted weren’t meant for you. You learned how to hold them without breaking anything, without pushing any boundaries.
Lane had never been mine, and that was okay. We had both found lovers who completed something inside us that neither of us would’ve been able to fill.
Lane shifted again, turning more onto his side. I swallowed, my throat tightening, and let my head rest lightly against his chest.
“I love you,” I murmured without thinking, the words barely louder than his breathing.
And it was true—I loved Lane. Not the way I loved my husbands, or the way Lane loved Greyson.
But it also wasn’t quite the love normal friends shared, because honestly, we’d never been normal friends.
It was a love I couldn’t really label—something closer than friends but not lovers, and not family either.
“You’re just my person,” I whispered, mostly to myself.
If Lane heard me, he didn’t show it. He only relaxed further, the tension in his shoulders easing as if the words had reached someplace deeper.
I closed my eyes.
I let myself remember the years we’d spent side by side—the late nights in Lane’s old apartment on his little beat-up couch, watching animal shows on TV and drinking cheap alcohol. I thought about the days before the Cohens had bulldozed into our lives, and the days after.
I thought about the way Lane always noticed when I was overwhelmed, how he always made space for me without asking. The way he touched me casually, affectionately, without fear or expectation.
A faint sound drifted in from the office—a muffled laugh, then voices again—but I barely registered it. My world had narrowed to the rise and fall of Lane’s chest, and the quiet intimacy of sharing space without needing anything more.
But along with the good memories came the bad.
I thought of the terrible fight we’d had years ago in the very living room we’d just been fucked in.
My stomach still turned every time I remembered what I’d said to him that day.
I’d said awful, unforgivable things—things I knew would hurt him.
They’d come out of fear for his life, but that didn’t excuse them.
I also remembered how, hours later, I’d been kidnapped at gunpoint by the men I’d been falling for.
I remembered the crushing panic, the guilt, the terror, the self-loathing. I remembered the moment we’d been reunited—when Lane had hugged me and lifted me off the ground, even with a broken ankle.
After everything we’d been through, I still couldn’t quite fathom how we’d ended up where we were now.
I was still working on forgiving myself.
Lane was helping with that.
Eventually, he stirred. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then slowly found my face.
“Hey,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.
“Hey,” I replied just as softly.
For a moment, we simply looked at each other. Lane’s gaze sharpened as awareness returned, but there was no alarm—only warmth and a small, sleepy smile.
“Did I miss anything?” he asked.
I huffed a quiet laugh. “Not really. They’re all still in Greyson’s office.”
“Wow, I wonder what they’re talking about.” Lane yawned, stretching just enough to make me tense before relaxing again. He didn’t move away, though. If anything, he leaned in. “Did you get any rest?”
“No,” I admitted, “but it’s okay. Just lying here was enough. I’m still stuffed from all the snacks and water they made us drink earlier.”
Lane studied me for a moment, something thoughtful passing through his eyes. Then he reached up and brushed his fingers lightly along my wrist, a simple, grounding touch.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly. “We don’t have to continue if this is too much for you. I’d never want to make you do something you didn’t like.”
“No, I want to keep going, Laney,” I promised, taking his hand in mine.
“You’re sure?”
“A million percent. This is the hottest thing I’ve ever done.”
Lane grinned. “Same. Do you think we should go check on them or just wait for them to come to us?”
“Let’s wait.”
* * *
“Kneel on the ground, both of you,” Hudson instructed.
My heart pounded as Hudson’s command hung in the air, his voice firm and authoritative. The living room felt charged, the earlier intensity from our play session still lingering like a haze of heat. I glanced at Lane, who met my eyes with a look of anticipation, before both of us sank to our knees.
I couldn’t help but peek at the long, beautiful kitty tail protruding from between Lane’s cheeks. I wondered if Lane liked the feel of the fur against his skin, or if that was just me.
Both of us had our pet play gear back on—me with my short puppy tail, droopy ears, and thick leather collar, and Lane in his pure white cat ears, tail, and diamond collar.
Hudson stood tall in front of us, his broad frame casting a shadow, while Greyson and Hayes flanked him on either side.
The three brothers exchanged knowing looks, the tension from their office discussion apparently now resolved.
Greyson crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze fixed on Lane with a possessive intensity.
“We’ve been talking,” Hudson began, pacing slowly in front of us. “And while you two were catching your breath in the bedroom, we came to an agreement on something.”
Hayes nodded, his eyes darkening as they roamed over my exposed form. “You two get to touch each other this time.”
My breath hitched, mind racing. Touching Lane—really touching him—felt illegal.
Lane shifted slightly on his knees, his thighs pressing together, already hardening at the implication.
Greyson stepped forward, his hand reaching down to grip Lane’s chin, tilting it up so their eyes locked.
“But let’s be clear, princess,” he growled, his voice laced with warning.
“You will never get to use your pretty little worthless cock on anyone ever. You wouldn’t even know the first thing to do with it, now would you? ”
Lane swallowed hard, nodding quickly, his cock growing despite the degradation.
Hudson then knelt down to my level, his fingers tracing a light path along my jaw before cupping my face. “We’re aware of your fantasies, pet,” he murmured, his thumb rubbing across my lower lip.
Hayes let out a low chuckle from his spot on the couch, where he’d settled back, legs spread wide. “Sometimes, dogs just need to rut, don’t they?”
My eyes widened at the implication, a rush of arousal flooding my insides as the words sank in. My hole clenched, slickness gathering between my thighs. “What… what do you mean?”
Hudson smirked, his eyes gleaming. “You’re going to fuck Lane.
” He twisted and reached behind himself, grabbing something from the coffee table.
When he turned back, holding the item, I sucked in a ragged breath.
Dangling from Hudson’s fingers was a strap-on harness.
Hudson grinned at my reaction, then continued, “We weren’t sure if we were going to let this happen or not, but we wanted to be prepared just in case.
It’s designed specifically for trans men to accommodate bottom growth. ”
“I didn’t even know you guys bought this,” I whispered, a bit in awe.
“Like I said, we didn’t know if this would actually happen,” Hudson answered, shrugging.
Hayes shouted from the couch, “Show him the cock options already!”
Hudson rolled his eyes, smiling. “There are a few to choose from. Personally… well, you’ll see.” He took my hand, helping me up from the floor.
As I walked the few steps to stand over the coffee table, I glanced back at my still kneeling friend. Lane’s face was flushed a deep red, his cock fully erect now and leaking precum.
I turned back towards the table, brows raising in surprise at the line of dildos displayed in front of me.
“Holy shit,” I muttered.
Hayes laughed, and I could practically feel the questioning stare from Lane at my back.
Hudson said, “Grey approved all of these, so just choose whatever you want.”
My eyes pinged over to Greyson, who just nodded, confirming his younger brother’s words.