Epilogue
3 Weeks Later
Miles stretches next to me with a groan.
“Good morning.” I’ve been awake for an hour. Sophie’s movements woke me while she muttered something about needing to make a last-minute post.
“Happy Friendsgiving,” Miles replies with a lazy smile. His eyes are still half-closed and he takes a deep breath before blowing it out slowly. “What time is it?”
“Just after nine.”
“Sophie already freaking out?” The corner of Miles’ mouth tugs upward into a crooked grin.
“Not yet, but there’s still time.” I reach out and run a hand through Miles’ dark curls before leaning close to his face. “Brush your teeth,” I laugh when he closes his eyes in anticipation.
“Wow, ok. Aren’t we supposed to be showing each other how thankful we are?” he asks when I sit back up but he still stands and shuffles to the en suite bathroom.
“I’m thankful for toothpaste.”
The scent of coffee wafts through the open door, indicating Sophie has finished whatever she wanted to post. Miles emerges from the bathroom, inhaling deeply through his nose. He pauses, shooting me a look.
“What?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Well, I’m debating what’s more important. Coffee or sex.”
“Coffee can wait. Get your ass over here.”
Like an excited puppy, Miles practically jumps onto the bed before crawling forward and pressing his lips to mine. I slide my fingers into his hair while he straddles me. His fingers trail down my throat, over my chest, and find the hem of my shirt, helping me to pull it off quickly. I do the same with his before reaching into his sweats and grasping his erection. Miles groans a curse into my mouth before breaking the kiss and leaning his forehead against mine. I stroke, lazily because of the fabric in the way, chuckling when he grunts in frustration.
“Get these off, now ,” I order.
Miles is quick to comply, scrambling off of me and stripping away the last article of clothing while I slowly do the same with my boxers. He tries to resume his place on my lap, but I shake my head, pushing him onto his back, into the mattress.
“Brody,” he chokes softly.
“You said we should be showing our thanks,” I murmur, crawling up his body to kiss him quickly. “So let me show you just how thankful I am.”
“Fucking Christ.”
“Christmas is next month,” I chuckle. “I have something special planned for that.”
I smile against his skin as I kiss and lick and nibble my way down his inked torso. His hips roll as my lips trail over his navel and I lick a long line back up to his sternum. Miles’ throat works while he swallows and his eyes are closed.
“Eyes on me, pretty boy.”
“We really need to talk about that nickname,” he mutters when his brown eyes snap open to find mine.
“I like it,” I shoot back with a grin, moving back down. My face is so close to my goal that the tip of his cock drags up my throat. When it’s in front of me, I smirk. “It's very fitting.”
I maintain eye contact and open my mouth, lowering my face and letting him slide between my lips .
“Oh, fuck.” Miles’ hips buck, his tip hitting the roof of my mouth, but his eyes remain focused on my face.
His fingers find my hair, gently tangling into the longer strands on top. I pull my mouth off, having just barely teased him. He groans in frustration and I resume my task. Holding the base of his shaft with one hand, I start to move, taking more of him into my mouth. I told him I want to show him how thankful I am for him, for his presence in my life, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.
I let my hand fall to his balls, gently rolling and massaging them. Miles can’t keep his eyes open and his head falls back in pleasure while I work. I relax my jaw as much as possible, taking him further and further down my throat with each bob of my head. My eyes water every time I gag, my tongue toying with the underside of his cock. It's taken time for use to get here, for me to feel comfortable with every aspect of our heightened relationship. But in the weeks since we moved in with Sophie, I've come to love even more about him—including the way he tastes.
Miles’ hand fists in my hair and I can see his torso tightening, so I pull my mouth away again. He whimpers.
“No, please,” he pants. His eyes open to meet mine. “Please, don’t-” he swallows, “don’t stop.” Miles’ gaze flicks to the side, glimpsing at something behind me. Without looking, I know what that something is, but I still have to look at the woman who made this entire situation possible.
Sophie is leaning against the door frame, wearing only a thin, short robe. Tattoos peek out from beneath the hem and her sleeves. I’d like to trace the ink with my tongue, but first...
“Come here, sweetheart.” I lift my hand and curl my finger, motioning for her to approach.
“I was enjoying the show.” Sophie pushes off of the door frame and undoes the sash of her robe while she walks.
“I need your help.” I smile up at her and she leans down to kiss me. I look to Miles again. “Sit up, let Sophie in behind you.”
“What are you planning this time?” Miles asks without moving.
“I told you.” I shrug. “I’m very thankful for both of you. But you’re first.” I wink.
Miles sits and Sophie drops her robe before crawling onto the bed and sitting behind him. He leans back against her chest and I watch as her fingers find his curls. Miles closes his eyes, savoring her touch. Without waiting for instruction, Sophie uses her other hand to slide up Miles’ torso until her thumb flits over one nipple.
“Think you can focus on me?” I ask, leaning back down to focus on Miles’ cock again.
“I’m always up for a challenge,” Miles grunts. He stares at me while Sophie begins to toy with both nipples, her lips against his neck.
“Maybe I want your focus on me,” she murmurs against his skin.
He groans when I swipe my tongue over his tip to collect the salty bead that has appeared. I don’t hesitate to lower my mouth back over him. He hits the back of my throat and stretches it with every movement, making me gag. My own erection is aching for attention, but I know we’ll get there.
“You like what he’s doing?” asks Sophie. “Isn’t he talented?”
“So fucking talented,” Miles grunts in agreement. “Fuck, he’s so-” he grunts again, “so good.
“Is he better than me?” Sophie grins, knowing the answer is no. I’m still in training and she’s had years of practice.
“He’s-he’s getting there.” The words come out half-chuckle, half-groan. Sophie hums.
“One day, I’ll watch you fuck his face,” she says as one hand glides over his chest. “Today, I just want you to fill his throat. Can you do that for me?” She rakes her nails over his skin. “Can you be a good boy and fill our boyfriend's throat with your cum?”
Miles whimpers a curse. I catch a glimpse of Sophie sinking her teeth softly into his neck and, at the same time, shove my face down so far that his flesh is pressed against my nose. Miles grunts and bucks while I remain in place, my hand fondling his balls the way I know he likes. I taste him, flooding my throat while he comes. He convulses and whimpers and his fingers drop to dig into Sophie’s thighs beside him. My body fights for air, but he’s not done and I’m not letting up until he is.
“Brody,” Miles whimpers and I finally pull away, gasping for air but grinning. His head has fallen back onto Sophie’s shoulder and she’s grinning at us.
“Hands and knees,” I order, backing up to give him room.
“Can’t I take a moment to-”
Sophie sinks her fingers into his hair and pulls his head back to kiss him and cut off his words.
“Come on, Miles,” she urges sweetly. “Be a good boy for us. ”
“I-” His words are cut off again by Sophie’s lips and I grin at the interaction. She has learned to embrace her dominant side with him in the two weeks since we moved in together. I love watching it. I love watching her come alive like this.
“Hands and knees,” I order again, pulling gently at Miles’ legs.
He complies, rolling over and getting into position so that he faces Sophie. She grabs the bottle of lube from the bedside table–at this point, every bedroom in the house has a bottle–and tosses it to me. While I squirt some into my hand, Sophie slides down to give him the perfect view of her glistening cunt. It still amazes how much she's turned on by watching the two of us.
I rub one finger between his cheeks and he backs into me when I swipe over his hole. I grin at Sophie and nod, watching her fingers tangle into his hair to pull his face down to where she needs his mouth. She gasps when he makes contact and I watch for a moment. The two of them together are truly a sight to behold. One of Sophie’s hands is at her breast, massaging it and pinching her nipple while her head is thrown back.
“You two are fucking perfect,” I breathe.
I can’t take it anymore. I have to join the fun. Raising up, I align myself with him and he pushes back again. I chuckle and press against the puckered opening, watching as my tip slips in.
“So fucking tight,” I groan. The sight alone would be enough to excite me, but feeling him swallow my thick cock is absolute heaven. It’s a wonder I can do this without exploding right away. “Such a good boy, taking my cock like this.” Miles groans, his mouth focused on Sophie.
“So good for us,” she agrees with a sigh. Sophie gasps. “Right there.” Her voice is a whine now.
“Use your fingers, Miles,” I grunt as my dick fills him. “Make her cum while I fuck your sweet ass.”
Miles mumbles something into Sophie’s pussy, but I can’t hear it. I grip his hips and pull out slowly before pushing back in. I want him to feel every fucking inch of me. Out and back in, out and in.
“Look at you,” I pant. “Taking my cock so well. Taking every fucking inch.” Sophie’s breathing quickens.
“You're doing,” she pants, “so well. Making us both-” she gasps, unable to finish her thought.
“That’s it, make her scream, pretty boy. ”
I pick up speed, pistoning into him while Sophie whines and whimpers in front of us. The sight, the sounds, the fucking feel of him squeezing my cock with his ass. It’s all too much. With a roar, I push deep, filling him while Sophie cries out in front of us. My fingers dig into his flesh while my dick twitches inside him, releasing every drop.
My breathing ragged, my body finally relaxes and I slide my hand up Miles’ back and into his hair. Sophie is panting and lying back while she tries to catch her breath. I pull on Miles’ hair, making him rear up until his back is against my chest with my lips next to his ear. I roll my hips, still deep inside him, and he whines.
“I’m very, very thankful for you.” I glance up at Sophie, though I know she probably won't register my words. “For both of you.”
Leaving Sophie and Miles in bed is always the most difficult part of my morning. And afternoon. And evening. And night. But someone has to let the caterers in to set up. Since we're still organizing and living half out of boxes, I knew there would be no way for us to host a Friendsgiving without help. The team is still setting up when Isla arrives, early as promised, with a huge jug of something red and glittery.
"Here," she shoves the jug into my arms and I'm thankful for my reflexes. "It's a mix between a bramble, a French 75, and hard cider," Isla explains, shrugging off her jacket and hanging it in the enormous coat closet by the door."
"Nice to see you too." I lead the way into the kitchen.
"Yes, now where's my favorite brother?" Isla looks around.
"I'm right here." I step into her line of sight, but she simply looks past me and I hear the footsteps on the stairs just out of view.
"Is that Isla?" Miles shouts.
"Yo!" she replies, just as loud, and rushes over to hug him as if they haven't seen each other every day for the last two weeks. Isla has already been here nearly every day since we moved in. At first, it was with the excuse of finally meeting Sophie. She figured out our little dynamic immediately, detective that she is, and was genuinely happy. I even heard her mutter something about Miles and I finally figuring it out .
"Hey, kiddo, ready to stuff ourselves into a coma?" Miles slaps her roughly on the back while I set the cocktail jug on the counter for the bartender to take care of when he arrives.
"Obviously," Isla snorts. "Where is Sophie? And why is it so quiet?"
"Well, it's not quiet now that you're here," I point out. "Seriously, you walk in the door and the decibel level shoots up."
"And stays up," Miles adds with a laugh.
"Not my fault you guys are boring." Isla shrugs and leads the way into the living room where the antique record player is set up.
"Queue up the music, kiddo." Miles grins.
Isla hums to herself, searching through the albums on the shelf until she finds the one she's looking for. I don't have to see which one she picks out to know what's about to start playing. When Twist And Shout by the Beatles fills the living room, my lips spread into a grin.
I hover on the edge of the room, watching the two of them act like utter goofballs, singing and dancing to a song that Miles' father always loved. The record player was his. Every once in a while, after dinner, they would fire it up and dance around to the classic with their plates still on the table. Their own little party of three. Isla never saw it with her own eyes, but when Miles' dad died, she took it upon herself to keep music in Miles' life. Her taste in tunes always aligned much more with his than mine did. They've been concert buddies for years, but this holiday pre-meal tradition holds more love than I can possibly say.
When the song dies, Isla is quick to steal Miles' phone and connect it to the Bluetooth speaker. The playlist starts with a Shania Twain classic and I decide it's time to focus on the festivities.
Most of the guests arrive over the next half hour and the bartender does his job well, supplying them with drinks while we wait for our meal to be ready. For our Friendsgiving. Miles and Sophie invited some people they know in the industry who weren’t planning to leave for the holiday. Natalie hangs out near the collection of cocktails, wine, and beer. Moira has her engaged in a very animated conversation, though I can’t hear what it’s about.
The front door opens and Mel appears just as a Thanksgiving rap plays over the speakers. If I didn’t know better, I’d say my boss looks timid. Other than our monthly lunches, I haven’t seen her in public in years. Her usual black pantsuit has been swapped out for a short, maroon dress with cap sleeves and a gold chain around the waist. Her hazel eyes sweep the scene in front of her until they land on me.
“You came!” I shout, approaching her and closing the door behind her. Though it’s not something we usually do, I pull Mel into a hug. She grunts when her chest meets mine.
“I did.” Her gaze returns to the room behind me. “You have a lovely home.”
“Thanks! We’re still getting settled.” I place my hand on her upper back and help propel her forward. “There’s booze over here,” I point to the counter near Natalie and Moira, “and dinner should be ready in a few minutes. Can I get you anything?”
When I turn back to face Mel, her gaze has fallen on Natalie. The expression on her face is hard to decipher. Perhaps shock? Did she not expect to see people from the industry? At the very least, she should have expected Natalie.
“Everything ok?” I ask.
“Yes.” Mel shakes her head and looks up at me with a grin. “I’ll take a glass of white wine.”
“Chardonnay ok?” I ask, stepping forward to grab a glass.
“Perfect.”
“Can I introduce you to a few people?” I fill the glass halfway and hand it to her.
“I’ll, er-”
“Come on.” I motion for Mel to follow, which she does reluctantly. “This is Moira Hall and Natalie Weston.” I gesture at the women before us who have stopped conversing. “Moira, Nat, this is my boss, Mel.”
Natalie gasps, her eyes wide.
“Mel?” she repeats with obvious reverence. “Oh my god, you’re Mel!” Without spilling a drop of her cocktail, Natalie wraps Mel in a tight hug. I fight the urge to laugh at Mel’s shock when she goes rigid in Natalie’s grasp. “You’re seriously my hero.” Natalie pulls back and then yells off toward the living room. “SOPHIE!”
“YEAH!” Sophie isn’t visible, around the corner, but she is audible.
“MEL IS HERE!”
Sophie appears within seconds, her mouth hanging open.
“Oh my god, Mel.” Her brown eyes swim with tears and she hurries forward to hug Mel who doesn’t seem to have recovered from Natalie’s embrace. “Thank you,” she whispers.
With Mel’s back now facing me, I can meet Sophie’s gaze. I smile, showing my support. I don’t really care that Mel hates hugs and affection. She saved Sophie’s life, she help us get her back. Sophie hasn’t had the chance to show her appreciation until now .
Mel clears her throat and Sophie finally lets go.
“It was nothing,” Mel assures the group. Moira knows some of what happened but is otherwise in the dark. It seems Miles gets talkative when he’s had a few mimosas.
“It was not nothing,” says Natalie.
“I know you can probably get anything you want and all that,” says Sophie with a wave, trying to recover from the emotional moment, “but if there’s ever anything I can do for you, just say the word.”
Mel smiles–a genuine smile, if small–and nods. She brings the glass of wine to her lips and I nod at Sophie.
“Hey, Moira, why don’t we hound Miles about what he’s wearing for the awards show in January.” She slips her arm around Moira’s shoulders and steers her back into the other room.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Mel when they disappear. Natalie is far less animated, having expressed her gratitude. “You should be able to get through dinner without having to hug anyone else, but I can’t make any promises about afterward.”
“It’s fine,” says Mel. She takes another sip of wine. “I’m glad she’s all right. I worried about her state of mind when you told me.” She glances at Natalie, then back to me, “what happened.”
“She’s doing ok.” I nod, picking up my cocktail from the bar where I left it when she arrived.
“She’s strong,” says Natalie, raising her glass. “Sophie has been through a lot, but the woman is resilient.”
“I’m glad.” Mel nods and I catch looking quickly at Natalie again.
“I’d like it if you got to know her a little. Maybe dinner with the three of us or something.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing tonight?” she asks with a grin. I’m glad to see she’s warming up.
“I meant just us.” I shake my head.
“What am I, chopped liver?” Natalie snorts.
“You telling me you wouldn’t find that boring?” I raise an eyebrow over my glass as I take a sip.
“Dinner with my best friend, her idiot boyfriends, and a beautiful woman? How could that be boring?”