31. Milo
THIRTY-ONE
MILO
“Come on, kitten. You can say it. I’m ready. I won’t even choke on my food this time.”
Sage’s apartment smells like garlic and wine and the slow-spreading silence of a woman about to say something she can’t unsay.
She’s been quiet for nearly a minute. Long enough that a lesser man would fill it.
I’m not a lesser man. I’m a very patient man, which sounds the same on the outside and works ten times harder on the inside, and I will sit here until the heat death of the universe if it means she finishes the sentence she trailed off on.
Across the table, she’s pushing pasta around her plate without eating it. Then she takes a breath and lets her words out in a rush. “I-can’t-stop-thinking-what-it-would-be-like-having-sex-with-all-five-of-you-at-the-same-time.”
For once in my deeply unserious life, I have absolutely no joke.
I just stare at her.
Sage goes red instantly, like she wants to snatch the words back out of the air and stuff them down the sink disposal. Her hand flies to her wineglass. “Forget I said that.”
“Nope.”
“Milo—”
“Absolutely the fuck not.” I sit back slowly, very carefully, like one wrong move might spook her into sprinting for the bathroom and locking the door. “You don’t get to say the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me in this deeply romantic pasta setting and then ask for a factory reset.”
She groans and covers her face with both hands. “Oh my god.”
I grin despite the crackle of heat crawling up my spine. “No, no. Stay with me. Let’s honor the moment. Maybe put it in a scrapbook.”
“I hate you.”
“You absolutely do not.”
A muffled laugh escapes through her fingers. Good. Good. Keep it light. Keep her breathing. Meanwhile my cock is trying to kick its way through the table at the image her words just dumped into my head.
All of us.
Jesus Christ.
Sage on a bed. On her knees. On her back. Sprawled between all five of us while we pass her from cock to cock like—I have to clamp my teeth together before the rest of that thought gets any further and I start visibly malfunctioning.
“Breathe,” I say, placing my palms flat on the table.
“I am breathing,” she mutters, lowering her hands.
“No. Me, kitten. I need to breathe.”
“Oh. I should have gathered that from the hostage-negotiator hands,” she says, eyeing where I’ve braced myself against the table like it’s the only thing keeping me from launching across it.
“I call these my support hands.”
She laughs again and I let myself enjoy it for half a second before business reasserts itself in my pants.
I reach for my wine. Miss it. Try again. “Okay. Ground rules.”
“For what?”
“For this conversation, you terrifying woman.” I point at her. “One, you do not get embarrassed and run away. Two, I’m going to be weird about this because I’m weird about everything. Three, if I say anything that makes you feel cornered, you throw bread at my face and I recalibrate.”
She studies me. Color all over her cheeks, but she doesn’t fold.
“Ground rules accepted.”
“Excellent.” I inhale through my nose and decide honesty is the least stupid move available. “That means I can say I’m very, very interested in your idea and trying not to picture it so hard I black out.”
Her eyes go wide. “Milo.”
“What? Honesty hour.” I spread my hands. “You said it. I’m respecting your vulnerability by admitting mine is currently pitching a tent.”
She makes a strangled sound that turns into a laugh. “I cannot believe I admitted it out loud.”
“I can. Barely. But I can.” I lean forward, dropping some of the teasing.
“And for the record? There’s chemistry all over this thing, kitten.
Not just between you and each of us separately.
Between all of us around you. It’s weird.
It’s inconvenient. It’s hot as absolute fuck.
And nobody is exactly thrilled to be handling it like an adult. ”
She picks at her garlic knot, processing. I let her.
“So none of you have ever—” she gestures vaguely with the bread, “—done anything like this before. Together.”
“Group sex? Never.”
She huffs a laugh. “Good to know. I meant the dynamic. How would it even work? Would you all hate each other a little? Love each other? What’s the family situation here?”
“We’re brothers. With knives. And trust issues.
” I shrug. “Knox and Eli have known each other since high school, so there’s a marrow-deep thing nobody else gets to touch.
Holden’s the eldest-son energy—keeps us tactical, keeps us alive, would die before he admitted he liked any of us.
” My phone buzzes and I shift to the side, pulling it out of my pocket.
“Oh! Speak of the devil. Holden just texted me.”
I stare at the screen.
Holden:
fuck you, Milo
“A not very nice comment.” I tap out a response and hit send.
Me:
Enjoy your night off, sweetie!
Not sure what his problem is. Holden would have just sat in his car all night being tragic. Honestly, I’m doing him a favor by being here.
“Everything okay?” Sage asks.
“It’s fine. Just a mix-up on the roster. And I should probably set that group up before Captain Sunshine makes good on that split butthole threat.”
I very quickly set up a group chat with the five of us and Sage.
She lifts her phone when she receives a notification. “Kitten’s Hangmen?”
“It’s encrypted.”
“That is not the point.”
“Perfect group name if you ask me.” I set my phone face down on the table. “Now, where was I? Oh, right. Hangmen family sitch. I’m the youngest, obviously, because I’m a delight and an irritant in equal measure.”
“And Micah?”
“Micah is the heart,” I say carefully. “Of all of us. He keeps us human.”
“That’s not really an answer to who he is to Eli.”
Sharp. I knew she was paying attention. I didn’t know she was paying that much attention.
I roll my wineglass between my palms. There’s a version of this where I deflect, and a version where I tell her the truth, and Sage has already said something tonight that qualifies her for the truth.
“This isn’t fully mine to tell, but you need the weather report before you walk into the storm,” I say.
“Eli and Micah have a thing. An on-and-off thing that’s been more off than on for the last couple of years, because Eli is allergic to anything that looks like feelings.
They don’t talk about it. We don’t talk about it.
But it’s there.” I gesture vaguely. “I tell you this only because if you’re seriously considering the group situation in any form, you should know the group already has its own weather system, and Eli-and-Micah is the low-pressure front. ”
Her brows pull together. “How off?”
“Currently? Glacial. Micah wants more than Eli’s willing to give. Eli ration-fucks him when the wall cracks and then walls back up. It’s not pretty. It’s not healthy. It is, I’m told by Knox, who refuses to weigh in on emotional matters as a rule, complicated.”
“Jesus.”
“Mm.” I take a sip. “Which probably explains some of why Eli reacted the way he did to walking in on you and Micah. He didn’t just see his best friend with you.
He saw his best friend with you and his own gnarled, locked-up little heart looking back at him through the doorway. Whole thing’s a knot.”
Sage stares at me. “You see a lot more than you let on, don’t you?”
“Kitten.” I press a hand to my chest. “I am chaotically perceptive. It’s my superpower. Don’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t.”
She’s quiet a beat, rearranging her mental furniture to fit the new information.
“Are you worried that two of your boyfriends are also sometimes fuck buddies?”
She shakes her head. “Not at all. I’m worried that this thing with me is coming between them.”
“Oh, kitten. I can assure you the only thing getting in anyone’s way is Eli getting in his own way. But I also feel sure he can’t keep that up forever. He wants this. I can see it in the way he acts over you.”
“Thanks, Milo.” She gives me a small smile. “That means a lot.”
“Okay,” I say, setting my glass down. “Enough. We’ve spent time on Broody McBroodison.
What I want to know about is the giant who followed you in here this evening—don’t think I didn’t notice the hand-holding and the lingering looks and the ‘please don’t leave me’ energy between you and Knox tonight. What’s going on there?”
Her cheeks flush again. “We may have shared . . . a moment.”
“Was it an orgasmic moment?”
“Milo!” She giggles and covers her face. That’s answer enough.
“My, my, my. You’re collecting us like Pokémon, kitten. I respect the hustle.”
She groans and drops her hands again. “I’m not collecting anyone.”
“Don’t protest. If you gotta catch ’em all, I’m ready to be slayed by your pokeball.”
She snorts. “God, why does that sound dirty?”
“I’ll pica-your-chu. I can squirt-in-you-tel.”
“Milo, stop!”
Glad to see she’s relaxed, I turn serious for a beat. “Honestly, Sage? Good for you. Get it, girl. Live your best why-choose life.”
“Why choose?”
“Yeah. It’s a whole genre of spicy books. One girl. Bunches of guys. Super hot.”
“You read romance?”
I press a hand to my chest. “Excusez-moi. How dare you sound surprised. Romance is a woman’s guide to the clit-glorious for men.
It’s a step-by-step manual on how to please a woman.
The female gaze is a multifaceted, beautiful thing, and I will not have you speaking to me as if I should ignore such a rich, subversive genre. ”
She’s cackling now, bouncing in her chair. “Wait—subversive?”
“Of course! Romance challenges patriarchal norms by centering female pleasure and interiority. The whole genre exists to give voice to women’s desires.” I shake my head sadly. “What a failure of a feminist you are, kitten. I expected better.”
She’s lost it, tears running down her face. “You’re not wrong, but you’re also insane.”
“Told you.” I wink. “So where do I fall in the lineup? Am I next in the making-out-with-Sage line? Please say I’m next. But if you need more time, I respect that. I can just . . . watch next time. Maybe jack off a little. If you let me sleep over, I make excellent breakfast.”
“Oh my god, Milo. You’re—” She shakes her head, still smiling. “You’re a lot.”
“I know. Part of my charm.” I spread my arms. “Acquired taste. Like olives. Like jazz. Give it time and you won’t be able to imagine life without my particular brand of chaos.”
“You’re full of yourself.”
“Confidence is all I have, kitten.”
We both jump when there’s a knock at the door.
“You expecting someone?”