Loose Ends

by Kristen Ashley

  He shoved them over his ass.

  This wasn’t where Maddox intended to go, the point he was trying to make.

  But with his point mostly made, and Diesel’s ass bared, he thought this was excellent turn of events.

  Maddox went for the drawer in the vanity that held the lube.

  He grabbed it, opened the tube, dropped the cap so it bounced off the vanity onto the tiled floor and he took it to D’s crease, squeezing it liberally along the line. He tossed the tube aside, and using two fingers, spread it down and in.

  A noise floated up Diesel’s chest, he gripped his cock and started jacking himself.

  Maddox made short work of lubing his man, opening his own pants, freeing his hard cock, positioning, and eyes moving to the mirror, locking on D’s, he drove inside.

  Diesel’s neck muscles stood out, his body bent at the waist to take Maddox’s thrust, straining into it, his free hand coming out to brace against the counter, his triceps bunching, his hand on his cock starting to work double time.

  Maddox withdrew then thrust in again and watched D’s head drop, the acceptance of the penetration, the submission, so fucking spectacular, Maddox went at him. Slow enough D could feel every inch take him through every stroke, hard enough it’d build quick because, regardless of how awesome it was, they didn’t have a lot of time for this morning fuck, and last, as deep as he could go.

  “Yeah, fuck me, Maddox, yeah,” Diesel groaned, spreading his long legs farther, tipping his carved ass to get more.

  Christ.

  “Look at me,” Maddox gritted.

  D’s head stayed bowed.

  Oh no, he was not making this about submission. He was not making that kiss about Maddox’s Domination.

  Fuck no.

  “Look at your man,” Maddox ordered.

  Holding him tight at the hinge of his hip with one hand, Mad slid his other up the warm sheet of skin at D’s back, wrapping his fingers around the side of Diesel’s neck.

  Diesel lifted his head and their eyes met in the mirror.

  He drove in and Diesel clenched his teeth.

  “I own this ass?” he demanded.

  “Yeah,” Diesel bit out.

  “I own that cock your jacking?” Maddox went on, pulling out and ramming back in.

  “Yeah,” Diesel grunted.

  “I do. And I own that mouth, D. I always have. But this isn’t about that. It’s about the fact you gave it to me last night and you aren’t taking it back, brother.” He slid out and thrust in again. “You aren’t taking it back.” Another slide and thrust. “And this is about that.”

  D stared at him through the mirror.

  “Look at us,” Maddox ordered, unrelentingly fucking his ass. “Look at you. Look how beautiful you are, takin’ my cock. Look how hard you are, full of me.”

  Diesel’s eyes swiftly wandered then came up and locked on Maddox’s.

  The safe place.

  He probably liked what he saw.

  And it terrified him.

  They’d get to that last part too.

  Just . . .

  Later.

  Maddox bent over him, forcing him to bend double, driving deep, faster, faster, shifting his hand to D’s throat, his chest to D’s back, breathing in his ear.

  High color was spreading along D’s cheekbones, his teeth sinking hard into his bottom lip as his strokes at his cock hit overdrive.

  But Maddox could feel the cheeks of his ass bunching against Mad’s drives in a contradictory effort to control their roll, either to slow Maddox down so it’d drive him wild, make him lose it and go at him rough or speed him up so he’d fuck D ruthless.

  Two versions of the same thing.

  Bottom line, he was holding back in order to push Mad where he needed him to be.

  Maddox powered in faster, but not harder. He wanted Diesel to feel that cock up his ass, feel how full Maddox made him, feel every inch of the monster he loved so goddamned much, not the mindless pleasure mixed with pain of a savage fuck that drove him to orgasm.

  And he wanted him to let go as he was getting that.

  Just that.

  He stayed bent over his boy, his gaze holding D’s captive in the mirror, feeling his chest, his nipples brush D’s hot skin, hearing the slap of flesh connecting, the sounds of D pumping his dick, the harsh quality of both their breathing, the muted sounds D kept swallowing every time Maddox filled him full.

  Christ, if D didn’t get with the fucking program, Maddox was gonna blow before he took his man there.

  He rubbed his chin along D’s shoulder, pulling out to the head, waiting, watching as Diesel’s lips parted, feeling his legs tremble in wait, in preparation, in need.

  A battle of wills that Maddox was going to lose, his balls having drawn up tight, he needed back inside so bad, his vision was getting blurry.

  Thank fuck he was wrong.

  A low groan rumbled in D’s chest, cut off before he whispered, “Take my ass, baby. I need you. Please keep fuckin’ me.”

  At the plea, it was a miracle Mad didn’t come all over him, but instead, slowly, Maddox slid back inside, watching Diesel’s eyes drift shut, Mad’s own gaze dropping to see pre-cum beading the head of D’s beautiful dick.

  Gathering all the control he had left, he stroked in and out, slow, rhythmic, deep.

  And then it happened.

  Diesel loosened around him, shit, Jesus, relaxing into it, taking his fucking like it was meant to be.

  A meeting of the bodies.

  A meeting of the minds.

  A meeting of the hearts.

  “Come, D,” he urged.

  Those eyes opened and they were hot, turned on.

  And embattled.

  Maddox could tell he wanted to fight it. He could tell Diesel wanted to keep holding back. Do something, anything, to earn a brutal fucking. Turn this into what he needed to feel right in his head. Make it about being his warped version of a man, getting his shit jacked, his orgasm that came from loving a man’s cock moving inside forced through near violence.

  But instead, as Maddox affectionately squeezed his throat and glided in fully, planting his meat deep, Diesel pressed up into Maddox’s chest, his chin tipped back and his eyes closed. Grunting, in pulses that corresponded to clenches around Maddox’s again slowly stroking cock, his hips jerked through his climax and he blew his seed all over the basin.

  And then more.

  D let out a deep groan.

  And more cum shot out of his cock.

  Yeah. Fuck yes.

  He loved that monster moving inside him.

  And the man attached.

  “That’s it, D,” Maddox whispered, only having brief moments to enjoy the view before his body forced him to let go.

  He drew out and punched inside his man once. Opening his mouth, he sunk his teeth hard into the flesh of Diesel’s shoulder, coming up his ass.

  When he came down, he licked the marks, ran his tongue along D’s neck then pulled out roughly, hearing D grunt at the loss.

  He twisted his man around, went in, and with both hands fisted in his hair, pulled him down and took his mouth.

  D submitted to the kiss at first, then with a low noise, he curled the fingers of one hand around the back of Mad’s neck, the other hand bit into Mad’s waist, and lost himself in it.

  Fuck yeah.

  That’s where this was at.

  Maddox pushed closer to his boy.

  Breaking the kiss because, unfortunately, neither one of them could skip work in order to make out all day, he took his fists out of D’s hair but only to cup him on either side of his head and give him a little shake, staring into his eyes.

  “Yeah?” he asked quietly.

  D’s fingers at his neck gave him an almost hesitant squeeze.

  He’d take that, even hesitant.

  They were still on the right path. D was fighting it, but he wasn’t veering away.

  So yeah.

  He’d definitely take th
at.

  “Yeah,” Diesel replied.

  “As much as I can watch my two boys fucking and making out for hours, I kinda have to do my hair.”

  Maddox shifted away. Not much, he was still in D’s space, but both their hands fell from each other as they turned to see Molly propped up in the doorway.

  The bottom of her foot was planted casually on the side of her other ankle, arms wrapped around her belly like she was holding happiness close and there was a huge smile on her face like she was completely unable not to let that happiness show.

  She’d been there awhile.

  Diesel slid away from him, pulling up his shorts. He went to the linen cupboard, grabbed a washcloth, returned to the sink and wetted it while Maddox did up his jeans and Molly moved in to gather the multitude of equipment it took to blow out her hair.

  Shoving the cloth down the back of his shorts, D cleaned his ass cursorily, a wipe. He mopped up the cum on the basin before he walked through one of the two doors to the walk-in (D and Mad had designed it so Molly could get there from bathroom and bedroom, which made it convenient since her boys could do the same), not looking at either of them, probably to take the cloth to the hamper in the closet and get dressed.

  But also to escape and crawl right back into his head.

  That was all right. Maddox was learning he could work with that.

  He’d just pull him back out.

  Both Molly and Mad watched him go, and when he was in the closet, Molly and Mad looked at each other.

  “So, apparently,” she said in a very quiet whisper, “fucking him into the right place in his head works.”

  Maddox smiled at her.

  She shook her head, smiling back, but saying, “Men,” like they baffled her and exasperated her at the same time, but she loved every second of it.

  He went in at her back, bent and kissed her neck and then followed D into the closet.

  Diesel had his jeans on and was yanking on a tee.

  “It’d be good to get a rundown of the fun you had last night,” he noted, reaching for one of the dozens of work polos he had that Molly cleaned in a way that was more like wringing miracles because they could get sweaty and dirty and every last one still looked brand new (and when it didn’t, she threw it out and contacted George herself to get him another one).

  “Tonight,” D grunted. “Now I need coffee then I gotta get to work.”

  Maddox grinned again.

  Fuck, he hadn’t smiled this much since they first met Molly.

  It felt good.

  Really good.

  “Right.” Maddox pulled on his polo.

  With a ball of socks in his hand, D nabbed his boots and made a move to leave, not breaking stride even as he looked right at Maddox and declared, “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

  Yeah, buddy, I agree. That was a fucking phenomenal session and I love you too.

  Maddox smiled big at him and answered, “Yup.”

  “Fucker,” D grumbled and walked out.

  The stop and start of the hair dryer just plain stopped and Molly appeared at the door to the walk-in, still fucking smiling.

  “I so, so, so, so, sooooooo love you guys,” she announced.

  Maddox looked at their beautiful girl.

  And burst out laughing.

  Until My Dying Breath

  Molly

  MOLLY WAS ON the way home from work, groceries for a special meal in the back, when the radio muted and her car started ringing.

  She looked to the dash, saw who it was and happily took the call.

  “Hey, honey!” she cried.

  “Well, hello there, sister,” Rebel greeted, sounding funny.

  Oh no.

  Nothing could be wrong.

  Not that day.

  Especially not that day.

  That day being the day after what happened last night.

  And that morning.

  “Is . . . uh, everything all right?” Molly asked.

  “Yeah, just wondering if you guys have plans next weekend,” Rebel answered.

  Oh boy.

  “Um, no. Not that I know of,” Molly told D’s sister, who was the kind of woman who was also Molly’s sister, and Maddox’s sister.

  Bottom line, who Diesel loved, and who loved Diesel, Rebel loved too.

  In fact, although Molly felt slightly ashamed to admit it (but it was true), Rebel felt more like a true sister than Holly did.

  Molly loved Holly.

  She was just a lot of . . . work.

  And Rebel was totally . . . not.

  “Cool,” Rebel replied. “I got a room at the Valley Ho. I’m gonna take off Friday afternoon, Monday and Tuesday morning and head down to you guys for a long weekend. Is that all right?”

  That was awesome. Amazing. Molly was delighted. Mady would be thrilled. D would be ecstatic.

  Except, why did she sound funny?

  And why wasn’t she asking Diesel about this?

  “That’s totally all right,” Molly said. “I’ll ask the boys to make sure. But . . . I mean, I don’t want to put my foot in something, but why aren’t you asking Diesel this?”

  Rebel, being Rebel, all out there, honest, communicative, never kept you guessing, didn’t keep Molly guessing.

  “I called him last night. He didn’t share a lot but he seemed to be in a bad place.”

  Mm-hmm.

  That had been right.

  And then D had done what D had done with Maddox last night.

  Of course, Molly felt him get tense after, when she and Mad made a thing about it.

  But then he’d let Mady make love to him in the bathroom that morning, kissing after and everything.

  Obviously, she couldn’t share any of this with Rebel.

  “I think he’s been working through some things,” Molly told her.

  “Yeah. And that’s probably not gonna get a lot better considering Mom’s gonna be pushing for a family Thanksgiving with the usual tight-ass, narrow-minded view of what family means.”

  Molly felt her lips thin.

  She had hate in her heart for nobody. Not a soul. People had reasons for doing just about anything. She might not like them much because of how they behaved, but hate?

  No one should hate.

  That said, she hated Diesel’s parents.

  Especially his mother.

  The dad was an asshole. A lost cause. He couldn’t come up with an original thought if he was offered ten million dollars to have one. He was weak of will. Weak of mind. Weak of character.

  The mom, she was a different story and she had different weaknesses that were less . . .

  Not understandable. Understandable wasn’t the word. Molly didn’t understand Mr. Stapleton.

  It was just, for a woman, a woman who had a good mother, who had a good mother-in-law in Erin (that soon to be made official, she hoped), a woman who wanted to be a good mother, Mrs. Stapleton’s weaknesses were just—unacceptable.

  “Did you tell D about this Thanksgiving thing?” she asked Rebel.

  “Yeah. Like me, he wasn’t a big fan,” Rebel answered.

  Molly had to think on this.

  Because anything that had anything to do with his parents, or that loser brother of his, always shoved Diesel right into his head.

  But last night . . .

  “Do you know Tommy Barnes?” she blurted.

  “Tommy?” Rebel asked.

  Dang.

  She felt funny talking about this with Rebel because Rebel might be all about the sister stuff with Molly and Maddox, but she was D’s and she had a strict code when it came to what she thought was right, and wrong, and talking behind D’s back would not be right.

  Though she was the one who called about this visit, going around D.

  “Yeah, Tommy. Uh . . .”

  Did she know about Tommy, as in Diesel and Tommy?

  “He told me, Mol, later,” Rebel shared. “After he moved to Phoenix, after he came out to me, he told me Tommy was h
is first guy. But yeah. They were best friends through high school. He was around a lot. I knew him. Great guy. Totally a great guy. If D hadn’t found you guys, it would have sucked it didn’t work out for those two, he was that great of a guy. Then again, Tommy’s gay, not bi, so it probably never could have worked. But I’m still glad he was D’s first. Tommy was solid. Totally down with who he was, as he should be.”

  There was a long, heavy, scary pause where Molly had to concentrate on driving, it was freaking her so much, before Rebel went on.

  “Though, would give anything to erase what Tommy went through when he was outed so Diesel wouldn’t have had to watch him go through it.”

  “Wh-wh . . .” Molly cleared her throat. “What did Tommy go through when he was outed?”

  “Just the entire town figuratively tar and feathering him,” Rebel told her. “It was ugly. Extreme. Despicable. Dad and Gunner . . .”

  She let that trail but Molly could guess exactly what Mr. Stapleton and Gunner were like after Diesel’s friend was outed.

  “D soaked it in,” Rebel said quietly.

  Dang.

  “That’s the difference between people like Tommy, people like you and Maddox, and people like D,” Rebel kept going. “Tommy looked at that as his ticket to freedom. Like the masks were torn off everyone around him so he knew who was worth his time, worth his emotion, and who wasn’t. It just sucked for him that practically everyone around him wasn’t. Diesel took it in and it became a kind of prison. Like the masks were off everyone else, but he had to keep his attached, solder it to his skin, so they’d never know the real him. And to make that happen in a way they’d never find out, he had to escape.”

  “He’s sensitive, our Diesel is,” Molly whispered into her car. “You’d never know it about him, the way he acts most of the time, but he cares about what people he loves think about him. People he respects.”

  “Yeah,” Rebel agreed. “He’s always been like that. He used to follow Gunner around like a puppy. Always wanting to be a part of his big brother’s gang. It was kinda okay because, even if Gunner was an asshole, he had some friends who were cool. But Diesel was blind to Gunner being a dick. He wanted him to be that big brother who was worth his while, so I think, in his head, he made him that way. But Gunner is like he is because Dad’s like he is. The whole ‘what makes a man a man’ bullshit, that making of a man being how big a dick he can be or how far he can swing his dick. It’s ridiculous. And it’s weird because they’re all in denial at all the awesomeness that makes Diesel, and he’s in that same denial at all the shit that makes them.”