by E M Lindsey
“I don’t think either of us would complain,” Parker said. He speared what was left of Ronan’s steak, holding it up to his mouth and tearing off a chunk. He grinned, his lips slick with grease from the fat, and Ronan wanted to smack him upside the head, but also drag him in and kiss him. “Will you stay tonight?”
At that, Jonas choked a little on his drink. “Oh, um…”
“No expectations,” Parker assured him, though Ronan wasn’t quite sure it was safe to believe his husband. “I just got home, and I’m being greedy.”
At that, Jonas softened, and he glanced across the table at Ronan like he was searching for permission.
“I wouldn’t mind falling asleep with you,” Ronan offered. And god, it was so much more than that, but he couldn’t find the words.
With a small breath, Jonas straightened his shoulders, adjusted his glasses, then nodded. “Okay.”
Ronan hadn’t realized how tense he’d gone, waiting to see if Jonas really wanted this, but the honesty was written all over his face. The future—the three of them together—was going to be uncertain for a long time, but Ronan felt settled just like this. He felt confident that it was more than worth waiting for, and working for, and holding his breath for.
Parker set the fork down, then swiped the back of his hand across his mouth and stood. “I’m going to shower. And after that…”
Silence hung in the air, an unspoken promise. Jonas’ cheeks pinked, and something went very warm, pooling in Ronan’s stomach. And after that, whatever was to come, he wanted it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was easier when Jonas had something to do. Like when Ronan slid up next to him and they loaded up the dishwasher together. Neither of them said a word, but feeling Ronan pressed up against his side—the occasional touches, the playful hip-checks—it felt good. It felt normal. It felt like something he wanted to get used to.
Although his eventual return home loomed like a dark storm cloud over them, it was easy to ignore it. There was thunder in the distance, but there were miles between each lightning strike.
When the kitchen had been wiped down, Parker still hadn’t emerged from the bedroom, and Jonas felt his nerves rising again. Parker had promised him that nothing needed to happen, that they could curl up and just sleep, but Jonas still felt the weight of expectation.
It was obvious both he and Ronan were trying to ease him into this, to avoid scaring him off, but running was the last thing on his mind. He was waiting on edge for them to tell him it wasn’t worth all this trouble, but if they didn’t want to push him out, he wasn’t going anywhere. He felt something like happy for the first time in maybe ever, and he wasn’t about to waste it.
He wanted to be thrown down and ravished, possessed, consumed. He wanted to feel their hot mouths and warm bodies and the bruising grip of fingers. He wanted teeth grazing his skin and sucking bites left behind on any stretch of skin they felt worthy of marking.
He met Ronan’s eyes right there in the empty kitchen, and from the way Ronan sucked in his breath, his desire must have been obvious on his face. “I…” he started, but the words died in his throat.
Ronan took a few steps, closing the distance between them. He laid his hands on Jonas’ hips, tugging him close. His breath was hot, and it fogged up his glasses as he bent in, brushing their noses together. “You look…” he trailed off with a groan.
Jonas closed his eyes, then turned his head. “How do I look?”
“Like you want me to do this,” Ronan said, and hooked a finger under Jonas’ chin and turned his head just enough to kiss him properly with an open mouth and a slick, soft tongue.
“I did. I do,” Jonas said, then groaned when Ronan pressed between his legs with a thick thigh. “I want more.”
“Of me?”
“Of you. Of Parker. I don’t want to go faster than you two are ready, but I want this.” The words tumbled out of his mouth, sounding braver than he felt and bolder than he had ever been in his life. But he wasn’t afraid. Not here. Not now.
“I think both of us could be persuaded,” Ronan answered. He stepped back, letting his fingers drag down Jonas’ shoulders, all the way down to where he twisted them together before pulling one hand to his lips. “Want to go track him down? He’s probably primping. He wants to look nice for you.”
Jonas snorted, shaking his head as he took one of his hands back. “He just has to exist for that.”
Ronan rolled his eyes as he led the way across the room, toward the little corridor that was wide and well lit. “I tell him that all the time, but he never fucking listens.”
“I hear you talking shit about me,” came Parker’s voice from behind a cracked door.
Ronan pushed it open, and Jonas caught sight of what had to be the master bedroom. It was very open, a slim, long dresser along the far wall, and a massive king-sized bed that was lower to the ground than Jonas was used to.
The floors were slick wood, no carpet, no bumps, and the walls were painted a soothing sort of café au lait brown. It was very them. Very homey and soft without being showy. He glanced at the bed with all the pillows, and the thick duvet, and he wanted to bury himself there and never leave.
Parker caught his eye and grinned wolfishly. He was in the doorway of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, his chest broad and bare. He had dusky pink nipples and almost no hair at all, and it was the first time Jonas had really gotten to see him apart from the quick glance when Parker had changed at his hotel room.
Now, he looked his fill. He let his gaze linger on the cut of his jaw and the slope of his neck. Along his slender, well-formed arm and then along his shapely stump, which ended just a few inches below his shoulder. His stomach rippled with abs, his hips narrow, legs strong. Jonas knew he could probably leap at him and wrap around him, and Parker would hold him like it was nothing.
His mouth watered, and he licked his lips.
“Like what you see?” Parker asked.
There was tension in his voice, like maybe he needed to know it was true, so Jonas nodded. “Yes. I’d probably like what’s under that towel too.”
Parker’s eyes widened a fraction, like maybe he didn’t think Jonas had it in him, but he recovered quickly. His clever fingers undid the knot with a single tug, and the fabric pooled at his feet. Jonas swallowed thickly and again, let himself stare.
Parker’s cock was half-hard, hanging thick between his legs in a thatch of blond hair. He was uncut, the head only just covered by his foreskin, and Jonas wanted to reach out and stroke him, to feel it slick and soft against his palm.
“God, you really do like it,” Ronan said, making Jonas startle. He was right up against him now, his broad chest pressing to Jonas’ back. One arm came around his waist and hitched him tight as Ronan leaned in to speak into his ear. “Does he get you hard, him like that all on display?”
Jonas’ throat was so thick with desire, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak. He managed a nod, then after some effort, said, “Yes. God, yes.”
Parker’s cheeks went pink, and he took a few steps forward. “I thought we were going to ease into this.”
“If you want to,” Ronan said, his voice rumbling against Jonas’ back. He leaned a little more weight on him, and Jonas pushed into him, bracing him. “But I think he’s…” Ronan’s hand crept downward until his palm cupped around Jonas’ hard dick, straining the front of his jeans.
Parker’s eyes went heated, half-lidded, following the movement of Ronan’s hand and then zeroed in with laser focus. “I don’t want to rush you.”
“I’m not being rushed,” Jonas choked out. His breath left with a gasp when Ronan began to knead him gently. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this since you left my room.”
Parker finally closed the distance between them, laying his hand over Ronan’s. “I see.” Together, they rubbed him, and the pressure of them—the heady eroticism of it being both men together like that on him—nearly sent him careening
into his orgasm.
“Fuck.” He pressed his hand to Parker’s wrist and stilled their motion. “I’m too close.”
Parker let out a soft growl, detaching his hand from Jonas’ and laying it on his shoulder. “I want you to come.”
“He will,” Ronan chastised. “Don’t be so damn impatient.” His other hand reached past Jonas and cupped Parker’s cheek, and the motion instantly softened him. “Why don’t you kiss him?”
“Is that what you want, Sparky?” Parker asked, his voice a deep rumble. He dragged his hand down to Jonas’ waist and tugged him away from Ronan. “You want me to kiss you?”
Jonas couldn’t do much more than nod, but it was enough. Parker took his mouth in a furious kiss—all teeth and tongue, backing him up until he hit the bed and sat down hard. Parker didn’t stop there. He was moving, like he was being driven by instinct, like he had been in the rain, pressing Jonas against the tree and taking him with every ounce of his being.
Jonas’ entire body shuddered, then moved into it, his hands grasping at Parker’s naked waist and feeling the hard press of his cock as Parker pushed one knee onto the bed and thrust against him. “God,” Jonas breathed out.
“I think he’s busy right now,” Parker replied with a grin. “There’s just us here.” He glanced over Jonas’ shoulder, and though Jonas couldn’t bring himself to look away from Parker’s face, he could hear the sounds of clothes hitting the floor. He only had a moment to fantasize about what Ronan looked like as he peeled himself out of all that fabric before Parker grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, trailing his hand down Jonas’ chest.
“I’m going to rinse off,” Ronan said, suddenly at Jonas’ left. He leaned in, his five o’clock shadow leaving a faint burn as he smudged a kiss against Jonas’ cheek. “Wait for me.”
Parker hummed, but he didn’t take his attention away from Jonas. Parker eased him back with his palm against his sternum, and Jonas used both hands to shuffle backward until he could lay out flat on the comfortable mattress. It was the perfect blend of soft and firm, and he sank into it as Parker pinched the waistband of Jonas’ jeans and popped the button. The zipper came down with only a little struggle, and it was clear Parker was very practiced at stripping someone out of their clothes, because before Jonas could blink, he was lying there in only his boxers.
“You’re gorgeous,” Parker said quietly.
Jonas opened his mouth to deflect, to laugh it off, but the words died on his tongue at the sincerity he saw in Parker’s face. “Thank you.”
Parker’s jaw went tight for a second, then he simply nodded and straddled Jonas, aligning his bare cock over Jonas’ cloth covered one. He took his lips in another kiss after that and thrust against him as he fucked Jonas’ willing mouth with his tongue. It went on forever—too much pressure, yet not enough to get him off. Parker’s body, his kisses, his movements, they kept Jonas on a knife’s edge, desperate to tumble off, but desperate to hold on because he needed Ronan there.
He wanted to spill, but for this first time, it had to be both men there. “The shower’s off. Finally,” Parker murmured. “He won’t be too long.”
Jonas nodded, then raised his hands to Parker’s ribs and dragged them up. He curled his fingers around his shoulders, then let his hand explore Parker’s side. His fingers traced where his arm ended, the stump smooth and a little tight, a thin scar that faded into nothing around the edges.
“Does it hurt right now?”
“No,” Parker murmured. “I like when you touch it.”
“Good, because I like touching all of you,” Jonas said, though the words weren’t adequate for what he was feeling. It was like an ache, only for the first time, caring for someone didn’t hurt. He closed his eyes against the realization that even if he walked away right now, this would always be one of the most important things he’d ever done. “I need you to kiss me, please,” he begged. “I don’t want to think anymore.”
“I can do that,” Parker answered, his voice rough and ragged. And then he did. He kissed Jonas—like before, but this time he didn’t stop, he didn’t let him gather breath, he didn’t let his mind wander to anything other than the points where their bodies touched.
And it went on and on until Jonas almost felt like he was outside of his body.
Another warm set of hands gripped him, but it was easy, like water flowing over rocks—guiding him further down. The touch took his breath, but gave him life. Parker’s mouth moved from his, and Jonas opened his eyes just enough to see the two men kissing over him. His face went white-hot with desire, and his heart swelled with emotion he was too scared to name.
“Look at him,” Ronan said gruffly. He dragged a hand down Jonas’ arm, then pulled his wrist up to lay a wet, careful kiss to the center of his palm.
“And look at you,” Parker said back. He leaned in, and Ronan met him in what must have been their millionth kiss. They moved like they had never been apart, and the beauty of it gutted him.
“I love watching you two,” he blurted. He was too far gone to be embarrassed now. He just needed them to know. “I don’t feel worthy of being part of this.”
“Oh, Sparky,” Parker breathed. He leaned in and kissed his neck, then his hand drifted under the hem of his boxers and pulled his dick out, curling his fingers around his length. “You are.”
Jonas wanted to argue, because he’d done nothing to earn this, and yet he was here. They were giving him this gift. He arched against Parker’s touch as Ronan’s lips fit against his neck, and his fingers brushed over his nipples. Parker thrust against his thigh, his cock leaving a wet trail in his hair as it throbbed with each push.
His hands fumbled, but he managed to get between them to take Parker in hand, and Parker gasped before leaning in to devour his mouth once more.
The passion became frantic, the rhythm stuttered. Ronan’s teeth were sharp, his lips soft, Parker’s hand firm, thumb swirling around the head of Jonas’ cock as he thrust his own into Jonas’ hand. It was everything, and it was chaos, and it was beautiful.
He came with a sharp cry right up against Parker’s lips, and Parker drank in his moans as Ronan murmured soothing, nonsense words and brushed the tips of his fingers up and down his sides. Parker’s own thrusts sped against Jonas’ now-weak palm, and before his strength ran out entirely, Parker spilled hot ropes against his hip.
The moment eased back, settled around them. He swore, just for a second, he could see sparks in the air, in the lamplight floating along with the dust. He became aware of their matched breathing, his own just a few beats behind, and Ronan hitched up behind him with his naked, limp dick pressed against his side.
“Did you…?” he managed to ask, his voice hoarse.
Ronan kissed the top of his shoulder. “No. Sometimes, I have to take meds to get it up, and I didn’t want to wait. I didn’t want you two to wait.”
“I would have,” Jonas said. He turned his head, though he couldn’t look over far enough to see Ronan’s face properly. “I want to.”
“Next time,” Ronan promised. He nosed against Jonas’ cheek. “I promise.”
Parker hummed something quiet, then peeled himself away, shuffling to the bathroom. Jonas heard him bang around, and the faucet turn on, then he returned with a cloth in hand. His movements were sleepy, perfunctory, not a lot of tenderness behind them, but there was a caring Jonas wasn’t used to.
“Let’s get under the sheets,” Ronan said when Parker lobbed the washcloth across the room.
Jonas allowed the larger man to bustle him under the heavy blanket, and Parker reached for the light. It felt weird. A little alien in this unknown bed between two men who were—until so very recently—absolute strangers.
And yet, it felt right.
It felt like he belonged.
That was the most terrifying part of it all.
Jonas woke to a familiar sound—a faint, bird-like chirping, and it took his sleeping brain to recognize the sounds of his phone going
off. He rolled over, right into Ronan’s warm, solid arm before he realized that specific tone was his mother’s.
Jolting upright, he clambered over Parker’s sprawled form, the other man groaning, but not waking as he fumbled around his discarded jeans. He found the phone a ring away from it going to voicemail, and his finger swiped across the screen.
“Mom, I hope this is an actual emergency,” he said in a rough, low tone. The last time she’d called him, his brother had been arrested. “I don’t have bail money for the boys.”
“Where are you right now?” she said by way of answer.
Jonas sighed, flopping back onto his ass and pressed into the mattress. “I’m in Colorado dealing with one of dad’s bullshit acquisitions. Why?”
“Because he had a stroke last night.” Her tone was flat, matter-of-fact, like she was reading the weather. “The doctor said he’ll live, but he can’t speak, and he can’t see.”
Jonas sat there, his gaze fixed on a little nick in the top left dresser drawer.
He waited for something—anything—to hit him. He could hear his mother breathing on the line, waiting for him to respond. He wasn’t numb—he wasn’t sad. He wasn’t much of anything at all except tired, and maybe a little angry because this meant everything he had right now was crashing down.
“What do you need me to do?” he finally said.
“Come home. You’re acting head of the company now, Jonas. I’ll get you a ticket. You’re in Denver, yes?”
“Near enough,” he said with a resigned sigh. “Don’t make it too early. It’ll take me a while to get there.”
“Yes well, that man isn’t going anywhere, is he,” she deadpanned.
He winced. He was her husband—for all that they hated each other. She was the mother of his children—biological or not, and the one thing Jonas did know was that Peter loved her. Even when he hated her, he loved her.
“Talk soon, Mom.” He hung up, letting the phone fall to the floor with a faint clatter before he winced. He’d momentarily forgotten he wasn’t alone in the room, and then he became profoundly aware that he was being watched.