Freddie
I stretch, run my hands over the flannelette sheet, and dig my toes into the mattress. I’m lying on my front, not my preferred sleeping position, but the weighted duvet pins me to the deepest memory foam I’ve ever had the pleasure of crashing out on.
Even the pillow beneath my head sinks to a comfortable depth and I’ve woken up without neck ache. Or back, or hip, or any ache. I’m warm and cozy, and every muscle, bone, and joint is perfectly supported.
It’s heaven.
I come awake with a gasp, blowing aside the brain fog to lift my face from the pillow.
It smells of Liam, and then it hits me. This is Liam’s bed.
His sheets are dark, but from the few beams of light poking through the blinds, I see they’re not black, maybe more blackberry with the hint of purple bleeding through.
I sit up, then turn so I’m sitting with my back to the headboard—which is black—and tug the duvet up to my chin.
They took my jeans and socks off but left my boxers and T-shirt on.
I remember telling Ryker once that I hated being in bed with my socks on and would rather endure potential frostbite than the sensation of socks on sheets.
He must’ve remembered, because they’re gone, and I twitch my bare toes.
Last night, Liam had . . . I take a moment, pull in a deep breath, then tell myself what he did .
. . He sucked my cock. No, that doesn’t do it justice.
He edged me, until I lost my sanity and fucked into his face to finish.
A heat goes through me, followed by a chill.
I sit here and let these waves go through me—startling clarity at what happened, then the fuzz of being pushed to the brink and it feeling so damn good.
Liam pushed my cum into Ryker's mouth and Ryker had moaned like it quenched an unbeatable thirst.
My cock starts to rise beneath the duvet, and I try to distract myself by looking around the room. I’m not jerking off in here thinking about the blow job, or Ryker coming in his trousers behind me, or Liam coming in his pants in front of me, or myself coming again. It’s too much to think about.
Liam’s room is neat with his clothes and possession all hidden away in drawers and cupboards.
There’s one photograph on his desk across from me.
The silver frame sparkles like it’s encrusted with diamonds.
It’s of us. Me, Ryker, and Liam. Except in most pictures we’ve taken over the years, I’ve been in the middle with the two brothers providing symmetry on either side, but in this one, Liam is central.
I can tell it’s him because there’s a matte black skull on his T-shirt, whereas Ryker prefers bright and punchy colours.
But there are other clues too, like his stubble and his smile being a lot smaller than his brother’s.
It reaches his eyes, though, and wrinkles the skin beneath a little.
Ryker has his arm thrown over Liam’s shoulders, and I’m pressed up to him, the back of my head resting against his right pec, using it as a cushion.
We were twenty-three in that photograph and celebrating Liam’s acceptance into the police force.
He looks happy, and with a sinking in my stomach, I realise I’ve not seen Liam smile like that for years. I see the edges of glass around the picture, jagged and sharp, and realise it must’ve fallen over and smashed at some point. It’s out of place in his tidy room.
I stiffen at the sound of a voice. No, not a voice, but voices. They’re coming from downstairs, but they’re too muffled to hear clearly. I spy my jeans folded on Liam’s desk chair, and my socks paired on top. There’s also a towel, and I know there’s a shower in the bathroom across the hallway.
I throw off the covers, grab my things, but pause in front of the door. Liam clearly prides himself on a neat and tidy room. I place my things on the floor and make the bed, smoothing the duvet out with my palms before fluffing the pillows.
It’s the least I can do after . . . after .
. . deep breath . . . he sucked my cock so expertly, I’m pretty sure I blacked out for a few minutes.
I should be embarrassed, and maybe I will be later, but the pleasure had been so exquisite, so all-consuming, and with Ryker gently kissing my cheek and encouraging me to let go, I feel like I did, completely.
I dart across the hallway to the bathroom, then lock the door.
The voices pause for thirty-four seconds—I’m that on edge I count—then they resume, rumbling softly through the floor.
The shower puts an end to the brothers’ baseline rumble, and I jump inside while the water’s still cold.
I use their shampoo and shower gel, lathering my body until I smell of them.
They wear different deodorants, but the base note of their scent is the same, and now I know why.
Bergamot with extra spice. I smell like it now too, like theirs, and I stroke the rash on my neck from Liam before twisting one of the marks from Ryker on the other side.
My cock thickens, and I shake my head, streaming denials from my lips.
A blast of cold water clears me of my lust, and I leave the shower with my teeth chattering before hastily drying off and getting back into my clothes.
They stick to my wet skin, but I’m in a rush to get out of here, though not too much of a rush that I can’t search for a toothbrush.
There’s a packet of four new ones beneath the sink, and I scratch the cardboard off the back to retrieve one. I brush my teeth while planning my getaway. I could creep down the stairs and sneak out of the house, or I could thunder down them and run.
Neither are ideal, especially when I remember Liam parked his car behind mine.
I could lock myself in their bathroom until they both leave for work, but that’s cowardly, and I’ve got a feeling they’d call in sick if I tried to pull such a stunt.
They both have experience with breaking down doors, so it’s best not to push it.
There’s only one real option, which is to go downstairs and say good morning to my ex-best men, politely request Liam moves his car as I’ve got to go to work, then drive off never to return.
I’m being a touch dramatic, I know, but it’s the plan I go with.
The kitchen door hangs ajar, and I hover there, hoping to hear Liam and Ryker. I snuck downstairs, grimacing on each step, but I’m not sure why.
I don’t know why I hold my breath either.
Catching them unaware feels like a superpower.
The door opens, and Ryker stands there with his eyebrow raised.
He smiles, and although cautious, I can tell it’s genuine.
It’s in his eyes and under them, creasing the skin.
He looks nice when he smiles, friendly, reassuring, and it’s his default to gaze at people like that.
The night before he hadn’t smiled once, but he’d laughed in a way that had made my skin crawl.
“There’s a coffee for you on the side. We’ve got toast, croissants, eggs and bacon if you fancy frying it, fruit, yogurt, cereal .
. .” He gestures for me to follow, and I do, eyeing Liam sitting at the table with a plate of crumbs in front of him.
He’s in his uniform, minus the stab vest, and with presumably clean trousers.
Ryker is wearing his uniform too, minus his brown jacket with flourescent strips.
They both look and feel ridiculously big and masculine even at a distance.
“Thanks, but I’m not that hungry,” I say.
Ryker gets close enough to nudge me with his elbow. “Come on, you’ve got to eat something.”
“If you don’t eat, I won’t move my car,” Liam says simply.
He means it. I slump. “A piece of toast sounds good.”
Ryker flips open the bread bin. “Two pieces coming up.”
I decide not to argue, and when Liam pushes out the chair opposite him with his foot, I take the cue and join him at the table with what I assume is my cup. I can’t meet his eyes as I sip my coffee. It’s great as always; Ryker knows how I like it.
“We wanted to talk to you last night . . .” Liam starts.
He leaves the words hanging like he hopes I’ll grasp on and run with them, but my stomach swims with nerves and my brain supplies the occasional flash of what went down in the living room.
It’s not helpful. They wanted to talk but ended up making me orgasm .
. . again. When did that become normal? We used to hang out all the time, but now, within a few minutes of being together and with some shouting and shoving, they pull my cock out and give me the most incredible—no, I’ve got to stop thinking about that, or at least not think about it in front of them.
Ryker brings my toast to the table. He’s spread on butter and marmite, something the brothers both detest but keep in their house. It’s for me, my brain supplies. They buy it for me. But I shush the irritating voice and decide Keiron must’ve liked it.
“We wanted to talk to you last night,” Ryker repeats. “But after . . . you were too exhausted. Fell asleep against me, and dribbled down my neck.”
Embarrassment burns a path up my cheekbones to my ears. “I didn’t.”
He winks while reaching for a slice of my toast. “You did,” he says before taking a bite.
His smugness morphs into disgust and he drops the toast back onto my plate.
He’d forgotten he’d given me marmite. His tongue comes out, and it’s kind of gross to see my breakfast like that, but normal too.
Not normal in the sense that I see chewed-up food on Ryker’s tongue all the time, but that he’s acting normally with me.
My traitorous heart squeezes in my chest.
“Eww, that’s disgusting,” he says as he steps up to the sink to wash out his mouth.
“Idiot,” I say with a smile, and it’s soft, and there’s no way he hears it above the rush of water, but Liam sitting opposite me does. He doesn’t react, but he watches me so intently that there’s no way he missed it.
Ryker turns off the tap, then wipes the back of his arm across his mouth.
“We still want to talk,” Liam says.
“Need to,” Ryker adds.
I nod. “Tonight.”
Ryker beams. “Tonight sounds great, doesn’t it, Liam?”
I’m caught in another of Liam’s glares. He’s attempting to pierce my skull and find out what I’m hiding, but I mean it, we will talk tonight.
Maybe not face to face like Ryker’s assumed, but we’ll talk without the fear any heated argument will end with my jeans and boxers halfway down my thighs.
My cock stirs under the table, inciting a flare of panic.
I momentarily widen my eyes, and fire blasts my face at my reaction.
Ryker’s by the sink filling his water bottle, but Liam—goddamn Liam—is always watching.
He sees but he doesn’t say anything.
“After work,” I say.
Ryker nods with enthusiasm, but Liam flicks his eyes to my plate.
“Eat,” he orders.
I do to satisfy him, to appease him enough that he stops trying to crack me. A piece of toast scratches my throat as I forget how to swallow properly. I cough to clear it while my eyes stream.
“Careful,” Ryker says filling up a glass of water for me. He places it on the table, then squeezes Liam’s shoulder. “Ease up,” he says to his brother.
“I’m trying,” Liam growls back. When he gets to his feet, I jump in my chair. “I’m going to put my vest on.”
When he leaves the room, I hurry to finish my breakfast. Ryker stays with me, but he doesn’t watch, he just busies himself rinsing off plates and cups before loading the dishwasher.
“Thanks,” I tell him when I’m done.
“You’re welcome.”
He takes my plate before I can offer to wash it and slots it into the dishwasher.
“Ready to go?” he asks.
I nod, desperate to be out of here. It’s a first for me to want to be at work, but it’s better than this stifling atmosphere. I compare it to gas in the air, one spark and it’ll go off.
We leave the house together with Liam locking the door. Ryker calls out to me as I rush to my car.
“Tonight . . .”
“Tonight,” I agree before climbing inside.
He’s the first to leave, and I’m forced to wait for Liam who gets into his car, starts the engine, but doesn’t reverse.
Instead, he revs the engine, makes it growl and huff at my bumper, and my eyes clash with his through the mirror.
It feels like a warning. I want to cower, climb into the passenger footwell, and curl up into a ball, but I fight these instincts, and beat my fist on the horn.
It’s early morning, and I know the brothers like the street and their neighbours. They won’t want them being woken to a droning car horn. Liam’s expression scrunches with a curse, then he pulls out of the driveway, letting me go.
I drive away with my heart pounding in my ears.
I am going to talk to them tonight, but on my terms. When they drive to my work to collect me, which I’m sure they will, my car will already have gone.
They’ll have to make do with a phone call between us. It’s the only way I’ll be able to think clearly when we talk. Any inappropriate reaction I have will be hidden from them, and maybe, just maybe, we can salvage our friendship.