He’d been the initiator and he wanted to be again. It was definitely out of character for him, taking the lead in anything. His Mills chill was famous for a reason. But now he was craving this more than conversation or food or a good series marathon. Everything was different now.
Finally.
***
Rory stepped into the magical ménage shower and turned on all the knobs. He sighed in ecstasy as the heated full-body massage began, leaning heavily on the tiled wall, completely spent.
What the fuck just happened? Did he really just bang the hell out of his best friend? The one who—according to him—had never had more than an experimental butt plug up his ass?
Rory Finn, the straight guy’s best first time and Tango’s most satisfying customer, had completely lost his cool. There was no seduction, no torturous prep or teasing. He didn’t spend hours just using his fingers. His tongue.
Not this time. Not when it was David.
He’d barely remembered to grab a condom before he was jackhammering into that tight, perfect ass again and again. Spreading him open and taking him right there on the floor like an animal.
What. The. Fuck.
He wanted to say it was due to buildup from his cleanse, but he couldn’t lie to himself. Not about this. David had asked to be fucked and Rory had no desire or strength of will to resist him. And when he got inside and felt that athletic ass clench around him? He was lost.
And David had loved it. There was no hesitation, no disgust or shame. Rory was watching for it, waiting for it, but it never emerged. Just pleasure. Greedy, joyful pleasure. And now David wanted more. David wanted to fuck him in return. That was…
Rory couldn’t believe it. Here with Rig and David, the last twenty-four hours felt unreal. A dream he’d be forced to wake up from. It had to be, because things like this didn’t happen to him.
He wasn’t the kind of guy that got to keep this. Logically, he knew it. But he was selfish enough to grab onto it while it lasted. Selfish enough that a part of him still hoped. The same part of him that wanted the kind of love he’d seen around his family table lately. Something that was his alone, but big enough to share with the people he was closest to. Something good, whether he deserved it or not.
“I’m interrupting again. Bad habit. Can I join your party?”
Rory opened his eyes and watched Rig step into the spacious cubicle without waiting for a response and get instantly drenched by the soothing spray. “You’re right. This is one hell of a shower.”
“Told you.” Rory studied him, lingering for a minute on his uncircumcised erection. “You were working out?”
Rig gripped his shaft and let the skin slide back with his arousal. “I look pumped, don’t I?”
“Something does.” Rory laughed and dragged his gaze up to dark, affectionate eyes. “It’s a good thing I’m so flexible or else I’d think I had nothing to bring to the muscle table. Between you and the runner downstairs, I’m kind of the twig of this threesome.”
Rig moved closer. “The runner wasn’t complaining a few minutes ago. The way I heard it, he was begging for more.”
He studied Rig’s expression. “Do I need to apologize?”
When he’d woken up with David in his arms, he hadn’t thought about anything but what he wanted. Hadn’t wondered where Rig was or if he would feel left out when he was the one who’d set everything up in the first place.
Rig exhaled heavily but smiled as he shook his head. “I will never be upset about you and David. Never. As long as we all keep talking and you’re both happy. As long as I’m included in that happiness. Understand?”
“Not really.” Rory was trying to be honest for Rig, who was still using up his favor for all of this. “I’ve been jealous and possessive of both of you. I think one of the reasons I made David off limits was so the two of you wouldn’t get together and leave me alone.”
Rig dipped his chin as he took that in. “No wonder you reacted the way you did at the bar.”
“Exactly. I’m selfish and greedy, petty and afraid, and you’re this pumped up Italian saint in my shower, telling me I can do anything I want and you won’t care.”
Rig walked forward until Rory’s back was against the wall and their chests were pressed together. “Number one? This is not your shower. Wishing doesn’t make it true. Number two? You have no damn idea how much I care. How much I’ve always cared. You think it’s been easy for me to see you plowing through the population as if you had something to prove? No. But it’s been harder since this thing with David. Watching you give up and accept it the way you did, seeing you react to my sucking him off…as if you always knew we’d break your heart and let you down. That killed me, Finn. Slayed me. Because I knew then that you’d never really trusted that we wouldn’t.”
Rory placed a hand on Rig’s chest. “I’ve always trusted you, Anthony. More than my family, man. You know that.”
He nodded slowly. “I do know that. Which only made it sadder. How am I supposed to prove to you that I’m with you, really with you to the end of the line, if you don’t even trust your blood?”
“What do you mean?” To the end of the line? That sounded a lot like a promise. A commitment. He didn’t do that. Didn’t deserve that.
Rig’s expression told him he knew exactly what he was thinking. “I mean if you want to walk away from this and continue wrecking the straight males of our great country until we’re old and the Viagra isn’t working anymore? I’m with you. If you want to take a chance and see where this thing between the three of us goes because it feels so damn right and special? I’m with you. And if you want to drop me off at the next light because three is a crowd and David is all you need?” He took a shaky breath. “Well, then I’ll refuse and make my myself indispensable as your cook and weekly fuck buddy, because like I said, I’m not going anywhere.”
Everything he said was perfect. Scary. Unbelievable. But perfect. “You don’t know if you’ll feel that way in five years.”
“I’ve felt this way for nearly a decade, Finn, so don’t even try.”
Rory wasn’t sure what to make of that. “You’ve slept with at least as many people as I have.”
“Was I supposed to take a vow of chastity or go on a cleanse while I waited for you to get your act together? You might be the most stubborn man on the planet, Finn. I would have died from blue balls years ago.”
He had a point. And an erection that was rocking suggestively against Rory’s stomach. “I didn’t mean to hurt you back then—putting on the brakes like I did.”
Rig grimaced. “I won’t lie and say I didn’t feel a thing, but I told you the truth last night. I knew as soon as I saw you and David together, felt us all connect, that the wait would be worth it. You don’t have to work up the courage to say the right thing. I know how you feel about me. I’m a fucking prize and you love me, so I’m not fishing. But that thing between you two…between the three of us? I’ll never not want to be a part of that.”
Rory pressed a kiss to the corner of his lush mouth. He smelled like sweat and spice. Delicious. “You are a part of all of it, Rig. You’re more than I have a right to ask for. You always were. It scared me back then.”
Awareness and understanding lit his gaze, and then Rig was kissing him with enough passion to make him dizzy. “I thought it was just…”
Just David. “You were wrong.” Rory pulled back, gasping for air. “I’ve always wanted to spend more time with Nonna Gina.”
They laughed and then groaned together as Rig reached down between them and gripped both their erections in his hand. “Lube,” he growled.
“I saw a tiny bottle next to the shampoo. I told you, this shower has everything and Finns like to be prepared.” Rory poured a stream of the thick liquid over their cocks and gasped as Rig took over.
He bit his lip as their dicks slid against each other in Rig’s tight grasp, groaning and pumping his hips in helpless reaction. After his last climax, he wasn’t sure he could
get this close again this fast, but Rig was relentless.
“This is what I meant when I said I was done being patient, Finn. I want this every day. Want you in my hands or in my mouth every damn day. I’ll feed you and you’ll feed me and we’ll all fuck. Sound like a fair trade?”
“Hell yes.” Rory was practically on his toes as Rig’s strokes got rough and wild. “Oh God, yes.”
Chest hair scraped against Rory’s sensitive nipples, making them hard. “It could be like this. Exactly like this,” Rig whispered, tempting him. “I know you want it as much as I do.”
He did. He wanted it so much. “Please, Anthony.”
“I want to wake you up like I used to every morning. Then I’ll wake David while you watch. By the time I’m done you’ll be hard again. Ready for more.”
“Fuck, Rig.” He was describing paradise, his words and his grip dragging Rory closer to the edge.
“You feel too good against me,” Rig moaned. “Come with me, Rory. Let go and come for me. I need to see it.”
He couldn’t resist him. Their cries were loud and broken as they came together. Rory looked down to see the pulse of his release mingle with Rig’s. Fucking beautiful.
You could have this every day…
“I might need to redecorate my bathroom after all,” Rig said after they’d caught their breath and started to rinse off. “I need this shower in my life.”
“Right?” Rory was laughing when the bathroom door opened with a bang. “What the—David?”
Warm brown eyes were narrowed with—not anger—concern. “Rory, your brother is here.”
Rory frowned in surprised confusion. “Which one?”
“James?”
Rory didn’t blame David for sounding confused. His own family barely saw James enough to recognize him.
“What the hell is James doing here?”
David bit his lip and reached for the nearest towel, holding it out carefully. “He’s here for you. It’s Elder— Sol. Your father, I mean.”
“Elder? What about him?”
“Rory, your brother said he’s had a stroke.”
Chapter Seven
James tugged on his short, dark hair and looked around the old house they’d grown up in. “Did he throw out some of the furniture?”
“A while ago. Said the table was pointless since no one ate there and the nice sofa was for company he didn’t want.” Rory stared at the new scar on his brother’s cheek. It was at least a few months old. Had they not seen each other in two months? Longer? “What’s going on there? Were your green eyes not enough to set you apart? When did that happen?”
“Long story.” His voice was clipped and hard, but then one side of his mouth curved up in an amused smirk. “You’ve been waiting all day to ask me that, haven’t you?”
“There can only be two reasons for a scar like that. Thrilling heroics or wild, angry sex. Of course I’ve been waiting to ask you.” Rory leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “Nothing else to think about today.”
They’d spent all day at the hospital with the rest of their siblings and Sol’s twin brother, Shawn. Rory had been volunteered for info gathering on Elder’s medical condition, since it was his hospital and he knew most of the nurses in the ICU by name.
Unfortunately, he’d also slept with one of the doctors on duty—the one who’d recently reconciled with his wife after “getting men out of his system”—but that couldn’t be helped.
Sol the Elder had had a stroke in the grocery store early this morning. And according to the medical professionals, it had pissed him right the fuck off. Even with the one-sided facial paralysis, the inability to control both his legs and his right arm, his number one goal was still making his nurses cry when they’d needed to take blood, his vitals or adjust his catheter.
He’d also refused family visitation. He hadn’t wanted to see anyone but his eldest son. “Probably wants to guilt me back into his old job,” Younger had muttered before disappearing down the hall.
Uncle Shawn hadn’t taken the ban well. He wouldn’t leave the waiting room, and he’d been so upset Rory’s brothers had agreed that one of them should be with him at all times. In case he needed to talk.
“After my stay in the hospital he stopped by for dinner once or twice and I thought…” His uncle had wiped a weary hand over his face. “I don’t know what I thought.”
You thought he would love you back.
Rory had been there, and he wished he had soothing words for this man who’d been the first to show him what compassion and kindness looked like. But he’d always had the suspicion that it was morbid curiosity that had brought Elder over for dinner. Not concern.
After learning his father had also been in a relationship with his aunt when they were young, he’d considered Sol’s need to flaunt his own good health in front of the woman who’d broken his heart. That sounded more like him. Or maybe he’d shown up to spend time with the only Finn he thought was honoring the family name. Stephen was a good guy, a good father, but what Elder cared about what his political title.
None of those reasons had anything to do with reconciling with the brother he’d shared a womb and the first half of his life with. That wouldn’t be like Sol at all.
Sol had wanted to go home as soon as he was coherent enough to express himself, but Rory found out at the nurses’ station that the doctors were planning to keep him here a few more days for observation.
They weren’t happy with his blood pressure, which was no surprise to Rory. Since Elder had retired his health had deteriorated. He had too much time alone to sit and stew. No one could work himself up like his old man.
When the floor RN had pulled him aside and asked him to help her staff out by relaying that information to his father, Rory wanted to suggest they wait for the doctor. Instead he stupidly agreed to go into Elder’s room and give him the verdict.
He should have said no.
“Faggot. Out,” Sol slurred with difficulty as soon as Rory walked in the door. “Wife killer.”
It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before, but Rory froze at the sight of his father reclining on the hospital bed, the hate in his eyes distracting from his pale, clammy skin and the face that was suffering the effects of his stroke.
It was Rory who felt weak and nauseous. Even now—even now—the man had the upper hand. Rory might as well have been eight again. That was the year he’d broken his arm climbing the tree in the backyard because Wyatt bet him he was too little to do it. He’d gone into his father’s den, sobbing from the pain, and when Sol couldn’t get him to stop he finally let him know how he felt about him.
“Laney died giving birth to you and so far I’m not seeing the damn point. You’re too weak, boy. Your older brother finished his Homecoming game with a hairline fracture and you’re wailing over one fall from a tree. What a waste. Go walk it off or get someone else to baby you. I don’t have the patience for it.”
His father had left for the police station right after that and Rory remembered wiping his face with his dirty shirt and finding James, telling him in the calmest voice he could muster that he needed to go to the hospital to get a cast. The nurses had all praised his bravery and the doctor had given him a sucker for his trouble, but Elder’s words stayed with him. A wound that never really healed.
A sharp intake of breath tore Rory from his father’s accusing gaze. Younger was sitting beside the bed, and the expression on his face was one of shock and suspicion. He’d heard what Sol had said.
Rory forced an apathetic shrug as he winked in his father’s direction, avoiding direct eye contact. “You’re slipping, old man. You know you’re not supposed to say things like that in front of people.”
His monitors started pinging their warnings. The sight of his youngest son was clearly increasing his already worrisome blood pressure. Rory shifted on the balls of his feet, his heart racing. His instinct was to flee, but something kept him rooted to the spot.
“Out.” His
father made a fist and pounded the bed with his good hand. “Out. Out.”
Rory kept talking instead of obeying the way he wanted to. “The nurses gave me the short straw. They want me to tell you what’s coming next. You know…since I’m the only medical professional in this family and you’ve had a stroke.”
“Medical,” Elder sneered. “Guilty.”
He understood his monosyllabic accusation perfectly and he couldn’t argue. The reason he’d ended up going to school to be an EMT was to heal people. To help. And guilt was a factor. He thought if he made a difference, he could honor the life of the mother who’d died to bring him into this world.
As if he could read his mind, Sol barked, “Should be you. Should be dead. Faggot.”
“Stop.” His brother sounded agonized as he stood and approached their father’s bed. “Damn it, that’s enough.”
Elder’s eyes widened, as though surprised to find his namesake beside him, and Rory used his distraction to unstick his feet and back out toward the door. “He’ll listen to you, so tell him he’ll be here for another day or two for observation and tests. A doctor will come in later if he has any questions.”
Rory slipped into the hall, his stomach churning as he bumped right into his uncle. “How did you get back here, Uncle Shawn? I thought he didn’t want visitors.”
“I was sneaking in anyway,” Shawn admitted, his expression troubled. As if he’d heard everything. “His nurse is willing to try anything, at this point. Not that I’d calm him down.”
Rory nodded vaguely, his eyes on the exit.
“Rory, you want to talk to me, son? Is that… He was shouting. What he said to you—”
“He just had a stroke,” Rory interrupted, feeling shaky. “It can cause confusion, strange speech patterns. Sometimes it can get pretty crude. The doctors will run scans and observe him for signs of temporary or permanent aphasia, and they know what they’re doing, so there’s nothing for you to worry about.”
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