Epilogue Home
“School started two months ago and we still haven’t organized.
Weren’t we going to organize?” Nick asks, pointing at the towers of cardboard boxes leaning against the walls.
The furniture is placed, mostly because my mother hired someone, but we said we’d handle the boxes.
That turned out to be a mistake. They only get unpacked when we realize we need something from one of them.
Yesterday I spent three hours looking for a cheese grater because Nick wanted to make Kieran his special burrito recipe.
“We’ve been a little distracted,” I say, staring at the piles of boxes. “Hopefully our Kieran seduction campaign will come to a successful conclusion, and we can start unpacking.”
He claps me on the back. “So far, everything else has gone smoothly. You changed your major to art. You came out to your parents, I came out to mine. Apparently, mine already knew. They found the gay porn.”
“Why was that not a sign for you?” I ask, laughing.
“I mean, I liked straight porn, too. I didn’t realize it meant I was bisexual, I thought it just meant I liked porn!”
“Not very self-aware,” I mutter.
“Speak for yourself, until a few months ago, you were a straight man with forty-seven sketchbooks who didn’t know he wanted to be an artist. Or a cock slut.”
“I do not own forty-seven—”
“You’re right. Forty-eight if you count the new one in your backpack.” He brushes off his hands and collapses onto the sofa, sprawling across it like he’s claiming territory. One big hand pats the cushion beside him. “Come here. Rest.”
“You encouraging me to rest is why we’re not done unpacking.
” I cross to the sofa and drop beside him.
Nick’s arm goes around my shoulders, heavy and warm, and he pulls me against his side.
His hoodie smells like laundry soap and sweat and him, that particular Nick-smell I’ve known since we were kids.
“He’s gonna be here soon,” Nick says. His thumb rubs slow circles on my shoulder. “Relax.”
“I’m relaxed. It’s just that we promised we’d have all the boxes dealt with, so the place looks as good as possible when we ask him to move in with us, and instead you spent yesterday edging me.”
“What can I say? Those skinny jeans are a distraction. You could dress less cute.” He kisses my temple, his lips warm against my skin, and his hand slides down to my hip, fingers digging into the muscle there. “He’ll be here. He always comes back.”
That’s the thing. Kieran does come back. Two, three times a week, his motorcycle rumbling up to our house, and he stays for hours. He fucks me until I’m shaking, eats whatever Nick cooks, falls asleep between us with one arm around each of us.
But then he leaves. Because he just can’t see how this could last.
Nick says we have to let him come to it on his own terms, and I know he’s right, but the waiting is killing me. The house has three bedrooms and plenty of space, and it’s paid for and surprisingly close to his tattoo studio. There is zero reason he shouldn’t be living here with us.
Nick’s hand slides down to the strip of bare skin between my crop top and my jeans. His fingers trace idle patterns on my lower back, and my body responds the way it always does, my cock thickening against my thigh, warmth pooling low in my stomach. I turn my face into his neck and breathe him in.
“I just want—”
“I know.” His voice is soft. “Me too.”
The sound reaches us from outside, distant at first and then closer, a low rolling rumble that vibrates through the floorboards and settles in my chest before my brain catches up.
I recognize it now, the way it throttles down as it approaches our street, the engine cutting to an idle and then silence.
Saliva pools at the back of my throat, and my cock swells fully against my jeans. My body knows before I do, the way it always does. Nick presses his palm against my hard-on, grinning.
“Your body is like a Kieran radar. We’ll always know it’s him.”
“Fuck off,” I say, already standing.
I yank the door open and there he is. Kieran Donnelly in the flesh, six-foot-two of tattooed muscle filling my doorway like he was built for it, his black hair wind-tousled, his dark eyes finding mine and holding.
Helmet tucked under one arm, boots on my welcome mat, a fitted black tee stretched across a chest I’ve mapped with my tongue a dozen times.
The sight of him still goes straight to my cock.
Three strides, and I’m against him, my hands finding his chest, his waist, and Kieran’s free arm wraps around me, his big hand cupping the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair.
He pulls me in and his mouth finds mine, hot, urgent, his stubble scraping my chin, his tongue pushing past my lips like he’s been starving for it.
I kiss him back harder, my fingers curling into the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric like I’m afraid he’ll disappear if I let go.
“Daddy,” I breathe against his mouth, and the word fits. Always has. “God, I missed you.”
Kieran laughs, low and warm, and it goes through me where we’re pressed together.
His hand slides from my hair to the nape of my neck, gripping, and he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping against mine, and I’m melting into him as he walks me backwards until I’m in the foyer, and kicks the door shut.
Then Nick is there. I feel him before I see him, the heat of his big body crowding in from behind, his chest pressing against Kieran’s back, his arms reaching around to grip Kieran’s waist. His mouth finds the side of Kieran’s neck, teeth scraping the tattooed skin, and he murmurs “Missed you, baby,” against Kieran’s throat.
I pull back first, taking a deep breath as I stare up at Kieran.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey yourself.” He sets his helmet on the entry table and runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. “How did dinner with your parents go?”
Nick grins. “My parents are surprisingly cool with it. Chase’s parents are… coming around to it. They keep saying they’re happy he’s happy.”
Kieran bites his bottom lip. “See? It’s good you’re just keeping it casual. How would they react if you told them you have two boyfriends?”
Nick meets my eyes, his widening just a little, asking if it’s okay, and I nod, and he blows out a breath. “We already told them that we’re a throuple. We just said that the other guy is not ready to meet the parents yet.”
Kieran freezes. “You what?”
“We just… We thought it would be easier to spring it on them all at once,” I say. “Of course, we didn’t tell them everything, not the dynamic or anything, just that we really care about you.”
“And that we’re hoping you move in with us,” Nick adds. “We got the new bed, wanna see?”
Without waiting for Kieran to react, Nick tugs him up the stairs towards our bedroom. It’s the only room in the house that’s finished and unpacked, and I absolutely love it, so I hope he does too.
“Fuck, that bed is huge,” he says as we walk in. Nick beams at him.
“Room for you if you decide you want to stay. It’s custom,” Nick says, bouncing onto the bed. “Want to test it with us?”
“You bought a huge bed just in case I want to move in?” Kieran asks.
“Well, we do also independently enjoy its hugeness,” I say, blushing. “But yeah, mostly for you. We want you to stay. We want to wake up to you.”
Kieran tugs on his hair and looks around the room. “I keep trying to stay away, but I can’t.”
“Because we’re awesome,” Nick says cheerfully.
I frown at Kieran, suddenly feeling irritated. “I don’t get why you try to stay away though. Like, we’re all into each other. Why not just admit it? Why not just go for it?”
Kieran’s eyes drop away from mine and his jaw goes tight, and then he opens his mouth to say something, and I don’t let him.
“No. Don’t.” I cross the room in three quick strides.
I turn, pace back toward the window, turn again.
My heart is going so hard I can feel it in my teeth.
“I’m not doing this anymore. I’m not sitting here pretending it’s fine that you show up when you feel like it and leave when you feel like it and act like we’re some kind of—some kind of hobby you picked up. ”
“Chase—”
“Every time you leave, Nick says it’s fine.
He says give you space, let you come to it on your own terms.” My voice cracks on the last word and I hate it, hate how thin it sounds, hate that I can feel tears building behind my eyes and I refuse to let them fall.
“He says that, and then he goes into the kitchen and makes himself busy and doesn’t talk for an hour, and I can see it on his face.
He misses you. He misses you so much it fucking hurts, and he won’t say it because he thinks being cool about it is what you want. ”
Nick has gone still on the bed. I can feel him looking at me, and I don’t look back, because if I look at him I’ll lose my nerve.
“And I miss you too,” I say, and my voice drops lower, rougher, the way it gets when I’m trying not to cry.
“Every single time you walk out that door, I can’t get a full breath for about an hour after.
And I lie there in our bed and I can still smell you on the sheets, and I just—” My throat closes, and I swallow hard.
“I just want you to stay. That’s all. I want you to stay. Because I love you. Nick loves you.”
Kieran is watching me. His jaw is set, his dark eyes tracking my movements as I pace, and his face has gone open in a way I’ve never seen, like I’ve pulled back a curtain he didn’t know was there.
“We’re in love with you, Kieran. Both of us. And we need you to stop—” My voice breaks. I press the heel of my hand against my eye, hard. “We need you to stop stringing us along like we’re something you can pick up and put down whenever it’s convenient.”