Chapter 11 Dante
Dante
My brother is impulsive, and I have zero patience. “What’s wrong with your stomach?”
Engrossed in the game, Charlie answers, “I was burned in a bombing…in the military.” A flush creeps up his neck, and he swallows hard, but he remains focused on the flatscreen.
My gaze is drawn to where Des’ arm is wrapped around Charlie’s waist, caressing his side with his thumb. A sliver of taut, discolored skin shows, but it’s nothing hideous and certainly nothing to be ashamed of.
My brother likes him—too much. I’ll admit he’s attractive, and his skittish behavior arouses my protective instincts, but he’s not for us. No way we’re getting involved with a federal agent. He’s devoted to Reece, and when we return to New York, he’ll remain with Reece.
Still, he sits rigid in my twin’s lap, shoulders curled forward and jaw tense. His nervous energy is palpable, and it bothers me. “Put him between us, Des. Let him relax.”
Desi narrows his eyes in warning then releases him. Charlie scoots closer, casting a suspicious glance in my direction.
I’m not much of a toucher or hugger. I learned to comfort my brother as a kid, but I’ve never felt the urge to do so with anyone else. Until now.
No one speaks; only the chaotic sounds of virtual shooting and controllers clicking fill the room.
I try to concentrate on the game, but the more awkward it grows between us, the more irritated I become.
If I wasn’t here, they’d be dry humping each other already.
I consider leaving, but the thought grates on me, aggravating me further.
I want him—I do. In an alternate universe, one in which Charlie wasn’t a federal agent and I wasn’t consumed with worry and responsibility, I’d be as eager as Des to explore this attraction.
What’s the worst that could happen? My brother becomes attached and wants to stay in LA? I guess we’ll stay in LA, or maybe split our time, as long as we’re not bringing an agent home.
And if Charlie decides he’s not interested, leaves, and my twin is heartbroken? I’ll find Charlie and haul his ass back here.
Maybe one night won’t hurt.
I clasp Charlie’s nape, and he jumps, snapping his head around to stare at me wide-eyed.
“What about Lucas?” I weave my fingers through his soft, shaggy hair. “You shouldn’t have to carry the burden of your past. The scars are already on your body.”
The controller falls from his hands. “I…I was named after Luke Skywalker.” His speech is rapid, his voice higher pitched.
I wonder if he’s having some sort of fit until Desi hides a chuckle behind his fist, and I realize I’m making Charlie more nervous. How can a person be so composed in emergencies yet socially anxious?
“Oh…that’s nice.”
It comes out forced, and my brother laughs harder, his face turning red and his eyes watering. I’m as bad as the man between us and completely fucking this up.
Charlie grins, perhaps also finding my struggle amusing. “I like Lucas.”
I return his smile, the sensation unfamiliar, and his gaze drops to my lips.
My dick stirs, and my tone lowers. “You want to kiss me, Lucas?”
“Y-yes,” he says without hesitation.
Cupping the back of his head, I lean in slowly, giving him the chance to change his mind. He doesn’t, and when our mouths meet, he releases the sweetest groan—as if he’s been waiting forever to be genuinely touched. Fuck, I know that feeling.
I swallow it down, deepening the kiss. His lips are soft and gentle. Our tongues intertwine, his hand moving to the back of my neck, gripping me, and my heart beats a violent rhythm.
The urge to have him in my lap, his body against mine, my mouth on his skin, is fierce. Before I take it too far, I break the kiss but don’t release him. I’m not sure I can at this point.
My gaze finds my twin. “What’s next, brother?”
The smug grin plastered on his face tells me he knew what he was doing when he invited Lucas over, knew I’d want him.
Des snatches Lucas’ controller and tosses it on the coffee table then shuts off the TV. Only the shimmering reflection of the pool dancing on the ceiling remains.
“My turn.” With desperation, Desi devours Lucas, their kiss punctuated by soft moans.
I’m hard and aching. Lucas wants us both; we want him. Desi was right—he’s perfect.
Just tonight, or maybe a few nights, I tell myself, knowing it’s a lie, knowing this could be something more.
Desi pulls back and grabs the hem of Lucas’ sweater. “Can I take this off?”
He hesitates, and, not ready for this to end, I nod toward the other side of the studio. “Let’s move this to the bed.”
He’ll be less exposed and more comfortable under the covers.
***
Lucas
(AKA Charlie)
My lungs are sore; I can’t catch my breath. Only in my wildest dreams did I picture the three of us together. I’m still clutching Dante’s nape like a lifeline when he lifts and sets me on my feet as if I weigh nothing at all.
They waste no time stripping, clothes strewn from the couch to the bed.
I’m a little slower, unable to take my eyes off them. They’re absolutely stunning—defined muscles flexing as they move, tattoos I want to study and draw.
Out of habit, I face away, removing everything down to my boxer briefs.
Strong arms wrap around me from behind, initially startling me.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful. Your ass is utter perfection.” Desi rolls his hips, his impressive length grinding between my cheeks, and trails kisses over my shoulder. “I can’t remember the last time I was this fucking hard.”
He runs his hands over my chest and stomach with no reluctance or revulsion then slips into my boxers, palming my erection.
His strokes are unhurried, his lips worshiping my skin.
I tip my head back onto his shoulder and allow myself to feel.
No doubts. No anxieties. No insecurities. Just the bliss of this moment.
“Des. Share,” interrupts Dante’s gruff voice.
“Yes, Tay Tay,” his twin calls out, releasing me.
Kicking off my boxers, I join Dante in bed, Desi climbing in after. It’s pure pleasure, both of them kissing and caressing me. I’ve been with men and women, but nothing compares to this. I doubt any sexual experience ever will.
I’m steadily leaking precum onto Dante’s fingers as he jerks me off, and I do the same to him. Des massages my balls, and the dual sensation has me lightheaded, floating in a cloud of ecstasy.
My cock pulses, and I moan into Dante’s mouth, pushing back against Des. “I need to come.”
“Can I suck you or fuck you?” Des asks, husky and rough.
A chill runs down my spine, and goosebumps erupt along my feverish skin. I already know what I’m choosing. I’ll regret it if I don’t. “I want you inside me while I suck Dante.”
“Fuuuuuck,” they both curse.