by Nora Phoenix
He’d been pleasuring Miles for almost two weeks now. He’d kept him at a distance, obviously, but Miles kept asking questions, chatting him up, indicating he wanted more than mere sex. Which was ridiculous considering sex was the whole point of their relationship, for lack of a better word. Miles needed to get off, and Brad, well he got his freak kicks satisfied.
He loved being here, though, loved spending so much time with Charlie and being in this house. These men were something else indeed. They were unapologetic about sex, and how they enjoyed it. When Connor was spanking Josh—or whatever the fuck he was doing—it was audible in the entire house, but nobody batted an eye. Brad had seen the pure bliss on Josh's face afterward and had concluded this was as consensual as it got.
Being open and joking about sex might help Indy deal with his trauma, but maybe that was because he was a people person in the first place? Brad was anything but. Teens, he had no problem with, funny enough, but adults? His tongue got all tied into knots at every attempt at small talk. He always said the wrong stuff, offended people, or plain pissed them off. And sooner or later, people always left him, rejected him.
He’d never found anyone he trusted enough to be himself with, not even Charlie. He knew more than most, but even Charlie didn’t know everything. If Brad told him what he wanted, what he so desperately craved, Charlie, too, would walk away from him.
No, Brad would do it his way. He’d keep his distance from Miles. A few more days and Miles wouldn’t need him anymore, wouldn’t want him anymore. Then Brad would walk away with his head held high and his dignity intact.
8
Miles groaned as he pushed himself up to a sitting position in bed. Recovery was frustrating as fuck, since his mind wanted to go way faster than his body could handle. He could be up for about an hour, two if he pushed it, but that was it. He was still spending way more time napping and resting than he wanted to.
Noah had told him this was normal, especially considering his injuries. It had taken a while for Miles to realize just how lucky he had gotten that Indy had called Noah and asked for medical advice. If he’d left him as Miles had told him to do, Miles would have died from internal bleeding. It had been a sobering realization.
Wells, his boss, had contacted him several times to check up, and his latest call had been a not so subtle reminder that his mandatory counseling would start as soon as he was fit enough. They’d send a trauma shrink to him if necessary, his boss had told him in no uncertain terms, but the sooner he’d start, the better.
He knew it was the right thing to do. A trauma like he’d survived was not to be taken lightly. They had shot both Nunez and Fisher at point blank. He still didn’t know if he’d been spared simply because they’d gotten to his room last, or because Crouch had somehow chosen him to be interrogated. He liked to think the first, because the second made him sick to his stomach.
Crouch. Now there was a depressing thought. He hadn’t even told Indy, but Wells had informed him they’d found Crouch’s body a few miles from the farm. He’d been executed with a single shot, the bullet matching the one used to kill Nunez. They’d simply shot him when he’d outlived his usefulness.
Turned out his sixteen-year-old daughter had been kidnapped the day before the raid on the farm, thus ensuring Crouch would cooperate and not alert his boss. She’d been held in an abandoned warehouse in her hometown of Rockville, Maryland, but had managed to escape, much to everyone’s relief. She had survived, but her dad hadn’t. It was an unimaginable tragedy for the family.
The FBI had caught the men who attacked the farm—but only because of the shooting in Boston. They’d made the mistake of contacting lower level lieutenants already in police custody because of the raids the Boston PD had done for days after. Their informant had delivered them a ton of solid intel on the Fitzpatrick’s organization on a silver platter, and they’d used it. There was nothing left of the empire.
The FBI was still trying to figure out who had tipped off the Fitzpatricks where Indy was held, though, and how they had known Crouch was the agent in charge. It smelled like an inside job, and that was deadly dangerous.
They were also still investigating the shooting in Boston, in cooperation with the Boston PD. They had zero leads. Zero. Sure, they’d had a ton of tips on the crime tip hotline, but none that had proven useful. Wells had reported the shooter was a fucking ghost, and he’d said it with equal amounts of admiration and exasperation. Technically, it was a job for the Boston Field Office, but since it was tied to the Fitzpatrick case and thus to the murder on that Boston DA Merrick, FBI headquarters had gotten involved.
Miles was intrigued and had asked Wells to keep him posted, even though he was off-duty while recovering. There were so many questions surrounding both the raid on the Kansas safe house and the shooting in Boston, that Miles had a hard time letting it go.
A timid knock sounded on his door, interrupting his thoughts.
“Yeah, come in,” he called out.
Charlie walked into the room with Max on his heels. “I didn’t wake you?”
Miles smiled as he pushed himself up farther, leaned back against the head board. Charlie’s face broke open in a happy smile that made Miles’ belly weak. God, Charlie was so fucking gorgeous, but hardly aware of it himself, it seemed. “Nope, I was awake already. What’s up?”
Charlie seemed to hesitate for a second, then climbed on the bed and faced Miles, pulling his legs up. “I’m bored.”
Max gave them both a long look, then decided that the floor looked appealing and plopped right down. He had to be the easiest dog Miles had ever seen, always content as long as there were people to hang out with.
“No one home?” Miles asked.
“Noah has classes, Indy is teaching a jiujitsu class, Brad won’t be home for another half hour, and Josh and Connor have a session with Master Mark, a Dom.”
Miles’ eyes widened. “They have a what?”
Charlie’s eyes gleamed. “That got your attention, huh? Apparently, they visit a local Dom regularly and he teaches them more skills, I guess? Josh said they’d do something today called shi..shibatsu?”
“Shibari,” Miles supplied. “Bondage. It’s an artful way of tying someone up with ropes.”
“Yup, that’s it. Josh was really excited about it.”
Miles cocked his head. “You okay with all of that? I mean, they’re quite the over-sharers here in this house.”
Charlie shrugged. “Sure. I mean, I don’t know half of the stuff they’re talking about, Josh and Connor I mean, but I can see how much they enjoy it, so why not?”
“It doesn’t embarrass you, this open talk about sex or hearing them go at it?”
“Nah. Well, maybe the first week or so with Noah and Indy, but after that, I got used to it. They’re so open about it that it’s hard to feel embarrassed. It’s not like some dirty little secret or something.”
Miles hummed. That made sense, actually.
“But it must be harder for you, I guess?” Charlie added.
Miles grinned at the unintentional innuendo. It took a second for Charlie to register his own pun as well, and he giggled. It was a beautiful sound that filled Miles’ heart with joy.
Miles swallowed back the joke that was on the tip of his tongue. He still didn’t know Charlie that well, and he didn’t want to hurt him, or trigger bad memories with an ill-timed quip.
Charlie’s smile dimmed. “You’re doing it again,” he said.
“Doing what?”
“Treating me like I’m breakable. You wanted to say something. I could see you hold back.”
Miles sighed. “I wanted to make a stupid joke and then thought better of it. I don’t want to hurt you, Charlie. That has nothing to do with me thinking you’re fragile or some shit and everything with not knowing you well enough to be aware of where you’re sensitive.”
Charlie’s jaw set. Miles was pretty damn sure that wasn’t supposed to make him look even more adorable, but it totally did. �
��I’m not sensitive,” Charlie said between clenched teeth.
“Sure, you are. We all have our trigger issues. Doesn’t mean we’re weak or fragile.”
Charlie scoffed. “Bullshit. If that’s true, then where are you sensitive?”
Miles kept his face neutral. “Holidays, for instance, especially Christmas. I can’t stand it when people complain about how busy it is, or how they don’t like their family coming over, or whatever. I would do anything to celebrate Christmas with my parents and sister one last time. They were killed in an accident years ago, and I still miss them like crazy.”
Charlie’s face fell. “Oh, god, I’m sorry. I’m a horribly selfish person at times. Brad says so, too.”
“I don’t believe that,” Miles said. “I don’t think you’re selfish. I think you’ve been dealing with so much that your brain was too occupied with coping with your own shit to have the mental capacity to invest yourself in other people’s shit. You’re not selfish. You’re a survivor. Big difference.”
Charlie’s eye grew big. “Is that how you see me? Not as weak and fragile? Everyone always does.”
“Charlie, there’s nothing weak and fragile about you, other than maybe your body in comparison with, say, Connor. You’re not delicate china. You’re like one of those tin cups that come in all kinds of colors. Really pretty, but strong as fuck. Unbreakable.”
It started with a sob that escaped Charlie’s lips. “He tried to break me.”
“I know. But he couldn’t, could he?”
A bigger sob tore through the slender body. “He beat me. Who the fuck beats someone he claims to love?”
Miles knew what was coming, had seen it enough in witnesses and crime victims. He mentally braced himself, could only hope Charlie would trust him enough to seek comfort. “I know, love.”
“He cheated on me, did Brad tell you? All the time. Who does that?”
“I know.”
One more big sob, and then he broke. Miles saw him crumble, right before his eyes. He watched as the dam burst that had held back Charlie’s emotions, witnessed as it shattered into pieces, was washed away by the avalanche of emotions.
Charlie let out a blood-curling scream, then another one, and another one, until his voice broke and it turned into sobs. Big, body-wrecking, angry sobs.
Miles held out his arms, and without a second doubt, Charlie crawled toward him, took shelter in Miles’ arms. Miles kissed his head, held him close as he broke into pieces.
The door to his room opened, and Brad came running in, coming to a sudden halt when he saw Charlie bawling his eyes out in Miles’ arms. Miles’ eyes met Brad’s, and they filled with tears. Underneath his prickly exterior, he was such a softie. And he really cared a lot for Charlie, if not more. Miles had seen him look at Charlie in a way that suggested way more than friendship, but as always, something was holding Brad back.
Miles gestured with his chin that Brad could hold Charlie from the other side. As much as Miles loved being here for Charlie right now, maybe Brad was who he really needed. Brad nodded, then climbed on the bed and took position behind Charlie. Charlie grabbed his hand and pulled it around him, but he made no indication he wanted to let go of Miles, so he kept holding him. Brad hugged him tight from behind, while Miles held him from the front, and Charlie kept crying until he hiccupped one last time, and promptly fell asleep.
After a few minutes, Brad whispered, “Thank you. He really needed that release.”
How could he be so sweet when it came to Charlie and be so defensive toward Miles? Miles didn’t understand. “I don’t mind.”
“I can move him to our room?”
Miles studied Brad, his pale cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes. “He can stay here. I don’t mind. I need to nap myself as well.”
The relief on Brad’s face was palpable. Then his eyes traveled south. “Do you need a release?”
Miles’ dick was, of course, hard. How could it not be after that whole talk about sex and then holding Charlie? There had been nothing sexual about it, but it had been so long since he’d held someone like that, that his body has responded fiercely. But to ask Brad under these circumstances, when the man was obviously tired himself and while Miles was holding a sleeping Charlie? It felt so wrong. Times like this he truly hated himself, hated his stupid body that wouldn’t cooperate.
“I don’t mind, honestly,” Brad said.
Miles sighed. “Please,” he acquiesced. “I’d really appreciate it.”
“I like sucking you off,” Brad said softly, carefully getting off the bed to make it to Miles’ side. “It’s very soothing for me, especially when I’m stressed.”
Huh. That was interesting.
No more words were spoken as Brad expertly took him in and brought him to climax in minutes. Miles’ eyes were already sinking shut when Brad was still tucking his cock back into his bottoms. “Thank you,” he managed.
“My pleasure.”
Miles felt the bed dip again. Was Brad staying? He was almost asleep when Brad spoke again. “It’s always my pleasure.”
9
Brad was in his car two minutes after dismissal. Teaching had been impossible today, his head a chaotic mess. Luckily, his students were good kids, for the most part, who seemed to sense something was off with Mr. Kent today, and didn’t take advantage.
He’d fallen asleep next to Charlie. In Miles’ bed. He had woken up hours later, completely disoriented, and hadn’t been able to sleep again. Charlie had eaten a little bit, and had gone right back to bed. Miles’ bed. Where he had slept peacefully for the first time since the attack. Miles had been quietly snoring through the night as well, relaxed after Brad had given him a hand job.
Brad had been too worried to fall back asleep. What did this mean, the fact that they were in bed together? Was this becoming a thing now, the three of them together? It was all becoming too fucking complicated, though he couldn’t deny the idea of being with Miles and Charlie made his blood pump faster. They both had something he craved.
The joy Charlie exuded was so calming to Brad. Just being with him, reveling in his sweet kindness made Brad happy. Plus, he was so beautiful it took Brad’s breath away at times. Sharing a room with him all this time, it had been perfect and horrible at the same time. He wanted what he would never have, and there were times it physically hurt.
With Miles, it was something else entirely. Admittedly, the guy was easy on the eyes, but it was the thought of sucking him that got Brad’s heart beating faster. His head was always so busy inside, but with Miles’ cock in his mouth it quieted down. It was peaceful, as fucked-up as it may sound.
They hadn’t fucked, or more accurately, Miles hadn’t fucked him again. God, Brad had wanted him to, but he didn’t know how to make sure Miles would be blindfolded again. He couldn’t let him see his junk, deformed and mangled as it was. Charlie could claim all he wanted it wasn’t that noticeable, but Brad knew better. Fuck no, no one could look at that and still want anything to do with him. Miles would boot him out the door instantly. The guy could do so much better, and they both knew it.
No, the thought of the three of them together was a pipe dream. Maybe Miles would develop a thing for Charlie. He seemed like his type, and Miles sure as hell was Charlie’s. It was good that they hung out while Brad worked, right? It gave them a chance to grow closer, maybe develop something deeper?
A deep stab in his heart made Brad swallow. It would be perfect, Miles and Charlie together. Charlie needed someone he could trust, someone honorable. Plus, Miles wasn’t a strict top, so that worked out well since Charlie definitely wasn’t a bottom-only, despite looking like the perfect twink. No, the guy loved to fuck. Never got much chance to, with his asshole boyfriend, but now that he’d finally gotten rid of that loser he’d have a chance to build something real. He deserved it.
Brad sighed deeply, rubbed his temple. He should help them find each other, be happy for them. It wasn’t like he had a chance with either of them anyw
ay. Even if Miles did like him as much as he claimed to, he’d stop as soon as he knew about Brad’s dick.
Besides, Miles couldn’t fulfill the void Brad so desperately wanted to see filled. He was too young, for once. Too perfect, too. Too kind and smart and composed. Not the type to be the sick fuck Brad was and needed.
And as for Charlie, fuck no. The kid was too sweet, too nice and kind. He deserved so much better than Brad with all his fucked-up issues. No, they were better off as friends because anything more would only end with him hurting Charlie and Charlie walking away.
Brad drummed his fingers on the wheel as he drove, lost in thought. He jerked as suddenly police sirens went off right behind him. What the…
Oh, fuck. Zack. He should’ve known. Thank fuck he came prepared. He’d known this would happen at some point since Zack didn’t know where Charlie was, and Brad was easy to track through his job. He was more surprised it had taken Zack this long to make a move. Charlie had said Zack had been gone for some kind of training, so that must’ve delayed him.
He twisted his sneaky little dash cam sideways and pulled over, stayed seated with the engine off and his hands clearly visible on the wheel. Zack had never liked him—and that was the understatement of the year. He could guess what the cop’s game was here, but he wasn’t giving the asshole any excuse to use force.
He checked his mirror. Zack was not alone in the car. That might be his way out of this. He waited till Zack had walked up, signaled for him to turn his window down. He turned the engine briefly back on to power the windows, slid the driver’s window down. “Officer Waitley,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
“Where is he?”
Okay, then. No small talk. He could lie, of course, but why would he? They both knew the truth. “If he wanted you to know, he would’ve contacted you.”