Ryker
He hates me.
I know he does.
The look he gave me inside the bar had been enough without the two punches he’s thrown my way, but right now, he’s enjoying us more.
He’s enjoying this more.
He shivers and shakes between Liam and me, and when he says he wants to be touched I’ve got his jeans and boxers halfway down his thighs in a flash. His cock bobs free, and it’s beautiful. It’s five inches, thick and cut. I didn’t realise he was cut.
It’s not something we’ve ever discussed, but he is, and his crown is bulbous and pink. A molten coral that fades into plum at the edge, and I lean back, removing my shadow, to see it beneath the lamplight. Holy hell.
“Ryker?”
Liam says my name and I register his trepidation, but I’m looking down at Freddie’s hard cock.
He’s hard for us. I don’t touch him at first. My mouth waters as I take him in—his cock, his heavy balls, the tease of his bare thighs with a sprinkling of hair.
I’ve seen him shirtless, in bare feet and swimming shorts, but this part of him has always been hidden away, kept secret from me.
He’s finally shared it with us. It’s ours now and I feast my eyes on him.
Freddie’s panting as I admire what he’s concealed from us for so long.
He’s lost in the haze, and he looks so goddamn perfect with Liam holding him there for me.
“Oh, babe,” I breathe. “You’re so hard it must hurt.”
Feddie whimpers.
“Ryker!”
Liam snaps my name with a click of teeth. I look up at him. “I know, I know,” I say.
I’ve got to calm myself down.
I’ve got to take things slowly.
Liam may be holding Freddie, but he’s no longer rutting like a wild animal.
He looks unsure, with a frown tugging at his brows and his mouth pressed into a bloodless line, but it’s okay, I’m not going to fuck this up for us.
I can’t fuck it up. Not now. Not now we’re so bloody close to having what we’ve always wanted.
“I know,” I murmur to him. “I know not to overwhelm him.”
Liam continues to look unsure.
I want to drop to my knees and deepthroat Freddie’s beautiful cock.
I want to spin him around, stretch him open, and fuck him against the wall.
I want to watch Liam lay him down and make love to him missionary style on the concrete.
But not tonight. None of that can happen tonight.
I take hold of Freddie’s cock with my right hand, loosely at first. I want to remember this moment.
This exact moment where I first touch his cock.
His skin is silky soft, and warm. I put more pressure into my grip and bite my lip when his cock strains against me.
It jerks like it’s fighting my grip, like it’s been caught and this is its last stand before surrender.
It’s hot now, so hot against my palm.
I move my hand, an experimental stroke, and oh my god.
One stroke and his length soaks itself with precum.
He’s so slippery he pops free of my fist. My heart skips a goddamn beat, and my breath catches as I clutch his cock again.
I chuckle to myself at how stupid I’m being.
Losing my hold on him for a second brought forth a wave of fear.
It still fizzles through me as I begin to stroke, but the raw edge of it fades.
Part of me feels like it might not be real, it might not be happening, I’m caught somewhere between a dream and a nightmare.
I tell myself to calm the fuck down as I rest my chin on Freddie’s shoulder to speak to Liam. He’s still tense. He hasn’t moved since he said my name, but he hasn’t let go of Freddie either. He’s caught somewhere like me.
“He’s so fucking wet for us” I say.
“Ye-yeah?” Liam replies, and it’s uncharacteristic for him to need reassurance, but he needs it now. I can tell by the way he stumbled over the question.
Yeah,” I swallow. “He’s dripping. Listen.”
We both hold our breaths to hear the wet slide of my hand. Freddie is too far gone to do the same, and I doubt he’s aware of what Liam and I are even saying, so I speed up for the wetness to be heard over his moans and gasps.
The sound my brother makes is more growl than groan.
I smirk when Liam begins thrusting again and nuzzling Freddie with his stubble.
He’s made a rash on the left side of Freddie’s neck, and although I’m clean-shaven so I can’t do the same, I can mark him by sucking his skin, which I do while tugging his cock.
It’s nothing fancy. It’s a simple back and forth, but the way Freddie reacts to it, with non-stop punchy moans, I know it doesn’t need to be more.
We’re down an alley for Christ’s sake. Next time, when we’ve all calmed down and we’re someplace more comfortable, I’ll twirl my thumb on his crown, change up the tempo, and bring my tongue in on the action.
But right now, this is enough.
It’s the perfect amount.
I grin into Freddie’s neck at the thought of next time.
There will be one.
And another and another.
I moan as I speed up my hand. Freddie lurches forward, and I know he’s close to coming. I know he’s attempting to hide his face in my chest, but Liam and I have both dreamed of this moment, and I need it to be as perfect for Liam as it is for me.
“No, babe,” I tell Freddie.
I push him away with my free hand. Liam slips down the wall to support the back of Freddie’s neck as I lean him against Liam’s shoulder.
Freddie’s throat stretches as he stares through sex-drunk eyes at the night sky.
Liam can see him now, his ecstasy-slack expression.
He can probably hear him better too, but that’s more my thing.
I’ve heard Freddie say my name a thousand times, a thousand different ways, but this is what I’ve dreamed of.
“Who am I?” I ask. “Say it, Freddie, fucking say it.”
His moans get louder and louder, and he scrunches his eyes shut.
“Freddie.” I increase the pace. “Say it. Say my name.”
He’s shaking and I think the only reason he’s still on his feet is because of Liam holding him up by his arms.
“Say. It.”
I’m close to begging.
Freddie tips further back onto Liam’s shoulder. His brow ripples, and his lips open. “Fuck,” he croaks.
I’m being rough with him now, brutal almost.
“My name,” I tell him, watching his face. “My name, Freddie.”
He’s there.
His body seizes as he holds his breath. I stop breathing and absently realise Liam has too, all so I can have this moment—this moment that’s slowing right down. Freddie’s mouth opens, his bottom lip quakes, and I mirror him as if I plan to catch my name from his lips.
I think I might, with a smeary, dirty kiss.
But first I’ve got to hear it, his ecstasy-pitched voice screaming my name.
We’re in slow motion now, but my unruly heart takes off at a gallop.
I feel it pounding everywhere but especially in my aching cock, and there’s every chance the mere sound of my name from him will make me come.
“Alice!”
I freeze.
Freddie’s already past the point of no return and his cock jolts and jerks in my weakening grip. His cum splatters my trousers and covers my hand, and I know if I glance down, it’ll be a sight to behold. But I don’t. I don’t want to be aroused, and pleased, not when that name rings in my ears.
Alice . . .
It takes a second, but then I picture the woman at the bar in the skintight dress. How she twirled her finger in her hair and fluttered her lashes. Freddie was going to leave with her. She was going to touch him, and he was going to touch her, and they were going to end up fucking.
They both wanted to end up fucking.
I back away from Freddie, carefully at first before rushing the last few steps and colliding with the opposite wall.
My breath leaves me in a whoosh and cum drops from my hand, hitting the ground.
Freddie’s cum. I can’t look at it. I can’t rub my fingers with it or bring it to my lips.
That name—her name—echoes in my head, except it’s not Freddie saying it anymore, it’s her in a seductive purr.
I see her half-lidded eyes and flirtatious smile.
She’s what Freddie wanted.
“Ryker?” Liam says. His eyes are wide, and his mouth is unflatteringly open in a gawp as he takes me in. I can only imagine what I look like to get that reaction from my brother. I can only go on how I feel, and I feel like ice has been injected into my veins.
I can’t look at Freddie, but I see him moving out of the corner of my eye, and there’s the distinct sound of a zip going up.
Liam must’ve finally let go of his arms.
“Hey . . .”
The voice comes as an unexpected clap of thunder at the mouth of the alley, startling me into a gasp.
It’s Nathaniel. I don’t know how long he’s been there or what he saw, but he’s holding a tatty green backpack.
It’s Freddie’s. Whenever he stayed over our place as a kid, he used it for his stuff, and when he got older it became his carry-on bag while his suitcase got put in the hold.
It’s surreal that it’s here, and even more so that Nathaniel’s the one holding it at arm’s length.
He shakes it and the broken strap rattles.
“The barman said you left it . . . and your wallet.” Nathaniel frowns. “I put your wallet inside.”
A long silence follows. Usually, I’d be the one to break it, but I’ve lost my voice—or more accurately, I’ve lost my soul. I have no desire to do anything but lean on this wall. Liam won’t be the one to break it, which leaves it up to Freddie.
“Um, thanks,” he says. He takes the rucksack, but doesn’t leave the alley, and neither does Nathaniel.
Nathaniel stares at me.
See, he doesn’t care that I’ve jerked off another guy. It’s not a betrayal. It’s a casual hookup and we both know how it goes. But he must not have had much luck finding someone else in the bar, and with the tension between me and Freddie now concluded, our hookup is potentially back on.
Or so he thinks.