Liam
I had to be there to see Stephen get charged, which meant leaving Freddie and Ryker at home in the early morning.
Freddie had been fast asleep when I snuck out of bed, but Ryker had been awake.
He didn’t ask me to stay or complain about me leaving, he just gave me a small smile, which I understood as approval or at the very least acceptance.
I return home after lunch to a mostly quiet house.
The kitchen is empty, but there are subtle signs of life—the crumbs by the toaster and the two mugs in the sink.
I glance up the stairs, but there’s no way Freddie and Ryker can still be in bed, and there’s equally zero chance they returned to bed without me.
Ryker is somewhat of a male Lothario, but we discussed rules a long time ago regarding Freddie.
Those rules still stand in my eyes, and I imagine they do in his too.
Which leaves the living room, and that’s where I find them.
They don’t see or hear me open the door, they’re too engrossed in their video game, both wearing headsets, talking to whoever else is on their team.
I stop behind the sofa to watch. It gives me a warm feeling.
Ryker and I may not have discussed the rules we made over a decade ago about intimacy with our best friend, but we have spoken about how we need him to feel comfortable in our presence.
The sexual road in our friendship needs to be just that, a road, a detour from the main, but the main remains the same. He needs to know it’s an extra, not a replacement for what we were and always have been.
The game is a first point of view shooter, Freddie’s favourite, and we haven’t played since before he asked us to be his best men.
I spy my purple controller on the coffee table, seemingly waiting for me to come home and join in, but I want to play something else with my best friend and my brother.
First I have to tell them about Stephen.
“Yes,” Freddie hisses. He shoots a smug smile Ryker’s way.
Ryker elbows him, and although they’re sitting close, it’s no closer than a month ago. This is the norm before the storm, and I love that we’re back here again.
The match ends, and Ryker slips off his headset.
“Hey,” I say, not expecting Ryker to scream—but he does—like a banshee.
Freddie’s eyebrows lift to his hairline, then he’s laughing at my brother.
“Are you trying to kill me?” Ryker asks.
I snort. “Obviously not hard enough.”
“You up for a game?” Freddie asks while reaching for my controller.
“No,” I say.
His hand hovers mid-air. He looks at me, then takes off his headset while Ryker shuts down the machine. I wait until they’re both looking up at me expectantly.
“Stephen’s been charged with arson.”
Ryker turns to Freddie, but there’s no reaction. Freddie’s eyes search mine, and I can’t help adding. “I would’ve preferred the charge be arson with recklessness.”
“What’s the difference?” Ryker asks.
“Recklessness to endanger life.”
Freddie shakes his head. “He didn’t know I was inside.”
“I don’t care.”
“Liam.”
“I don’t care,” I repeat more harshly than intended, then follow up with a slow inhale to calm myself down. “I said that’s what I would’ve preferred him to be charged with, but he wasn’t. He’s been charged with arson with the intent of insurance fraud.”
Freddie lowers his gaze to the floor.
“Stephen told us everything,” I say. “How the business has been struggling financially. Bigger companies are undercutting his prices, and he’d been laying people off, pushing all the staff to their limits, and he was offered an insulting buyout from a competitor.
Stephen decided he’d rather burn the building to the ground and claim the insurance than sell for a third of the payout. ”
Ryker whistles. “I bet he’s regretting that decision now . . .”
I ignore my brother. “He thought he could convince the police and fire department into believing the group of teenagers who set fire to the barn and the portable hub at the school were also responsible for the fire on Hunter Healthcare. We only released a few bits of information to the press.”
Ryker rubs his chin in thought. “Two fires started at each location, and the culprits were young.”
I nod at Ryker. “The barn went up fast as it was full of hay, and the portable office was being used to store paint, which was flammable. They didn’t supply their own fuel, but there was fuel involved, which made the blazes look particularly ferocious . . .”
Ryker’s nose twitches. “Petrol.”
“Stephen thought they’d used it, and poured it onto the machinery inside the building, propped open both windows, then left. The CCTV was conveniently switched off.”
“I didn’t hear him,” Freddie whispers. “I had no idea.”
“You were on the second floor, and I imagine Stephen was being sneaky about it. He started both fires, left what he thought would be evidence of teenagers at the scene—energy drinks and sweets—then went home. He was then called by the fire brigade at five past twelve and told the situation. He arrived on scene at twelve forty-three in time to see Freddie being evacuated from the second floor.”
“Did he . . .” Freddie bites his lip, then asks anyway. “Did he look worried . . . not about the building or getting caught, I mean . . . about me?”
Yes, is the answer, he did look worried, but I don’t want Freddie sparing a single ounce of sympathy for Stephen. He set fire to the building, a crime itself without the insurance policy, and his selfishness and recklessness almost got Freddie killed.
It might’ve got Ryker killed too, if this had turned out differently.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I say.
“Okay,” Freddie murmurs. “Do you want to . . .” He gestures to the TV.
“No.” I eye Ryker. “How’s your back?”
“It’s fine.”
I narrow my eyes.
Ryker leans forward to reveal the hot water bottle he’s got wedged between his lower back and the sofa.
“I bought you some heat rub.”
“Sweet.” Ryker heaves himself up. “I’ll go put it on now, then I can kick your arse on the X—”
“No,” I say. “We’re going upstairs, the three of us, and Freddie’s going to put on your heat rub.”
And with those parting words, I leave the room knowing they’ll follow. Ryker grins moronically at the thought of a back massage, and Freddie’s wide-eyed and nervous about what to expect, but they’ll come after me, I know they will.
When Ryker steps into the bedroom, he’s already undressing, yanking his T-shirt over his head. He’s wearing loose grey joggers that slip down his legs as soon as he unties the cord at the top. I tut at his absence of underwear, then tut again but louder at his erection.
“Put it away,” I tell him.
Ryker rolls his eyes and steps up to the bed. He crawls onto the mattress before carefully stretching out on his front. Freddie waits in the doorway. He licks his lips, whether with nervousness or anticipation I don’t know, but once he sees Ryker lying flat on the bed, he comes inside.
I slip the tube of heat rub from my trousers, and Freddie holds his hand out to take it, but I lift it out of his reach. “It smells quite strongly of menthol. It’s best you remove your clothing too.”
“Really?” he says while hiking one of his eyebrows.
“Really.”
The cream does have a distinctive smell that would likely scent his clothing, but I’d be lying if I said that was the main reason I wanted Freddie’s clothes off.
“What’s the hold up?” Ryker asks. “My back isn’t going to rub itself.”
Freddie faces away from me to undress. He leaves his boxers on, though, a tight black pair that cup his arse perfectly.
I don’t tell him that, though. I don’t tell him I’ve dreamed of having his arse against my crotch.
Skin to skin. I hand over the cream, and Freddie gets onto the bed.
He hesitates for a moment before straddling Ryker’s thighs.
“Where abouts does it hurt?” I ask.
“Lower back mostly.” Ryker slaps the back of his hand to the offending area before sliding his arm under his chin.
Freddie gets started with the heat rub, and Ryker sighs in bliss.
While they warm up, I unbutton my shirt, then take off my trousers.
I’m down to my boxers too, and I leave them on reasoning Freddie might find it too distracting to have my hard cock twitching and wagging in the corner of his eye.
After all, this isn’t a sexual act. It’s not Freddie’s fault that Ryker and I get overexcited in his presence.
Ryker groans. “That feels really good, babe.”
Freddie’s throat bobs as he swallows, then without any guidance from Ryker or me, his hand roams up Ryker’s back, stroking and caressing.
Ryker purrs like a cat, and I can’t stop the small smile that twitches my lips.
He deserves to be pampered. He’s been putting on a brave face, but I know his back has been bothering him, twinging when he turns too fast.
It becomes obvious that Freddie’s enjoying touching my brother’s shoulders.
They’re broad and muscular, and Freddie’s eyes follow the curves before his hands.
He’s hard in his boxers, and he glances my way, catching me in the act of checking him out.
His cheeks warm, and he ducks his head to avoid my gaze.
“I like it,” I tell him. “I like that touching my brother turns you on.”
Ryker lifts his head from his arms crossed beneath his chin. “What was that?”
“Freddie’s getting aroused touching you . . .”
“As he should,” Ryker replies. “But what part of me specifically?”
Freddie flicks Ryker’s nape. “The back of your head, it really does it for me.”
The laugh sneaks up on me. It’s small, but still unexpected. It draws Freddie’s attention to me.