I spent most of the night watching Dove interact with my family seamlessly. Dad engaged him over castles and cathedrals in Ireland, while Mom was more interested in hearing about his family. Miho refrained from outing him at the table and kept her questions geared toward pop culture and all the mutual interests they’d uncovered. It felt like Dove had always been there, and that made me feel really damn good.
The next night, I watched in awe as Dove performed to No Doubt’s “Simple Kind of Life.” His bright pink wig of teased curls was in stark contrast to the white wedding dress he wore. Halfway through the performance, he pulled an orange and red flower bouquet out from under his dress. When he’d initially come out, I was expecting a kickass punk performance. Then the music started, and he slipped into character. The conflict and pain on his face had me wholly focused on his every movement, disregarding everyone else in the bar.
I shuffled the party popper Dove had given me before he went backstage to get ready. He’d handed out several, and gave me instructions to pop mine at the three minute mark when the lights changed. I did as instructed, as did everyone else with a popper, and the room was showered in white confetti. It was snow in July in the beautifully melancholic scene before my eyes. It wasn’t your typical drag show, though it was mesmerizing all the same.
Dove was on his knees when the song came to an end. Raucous applause and whistles filled the room, which he graciously stood to accept. I couldn’t bring myself to clap. If I moved I faced the possibility of sliding off my stool, and taking him into my arms. This was only an act, yet I couldn’t quell the desire coursing through me to comfort him. He was smiling while he collected his tips, but it wasn’t enough—I wanted to make him smile. I was desperate for it.
When he came around to me, his brows drew together as concern bled into his beautiful face. He was halfway through asking me if I was all right when I grabbed him. I hauled him close to me, crashing my lips to his in a brutal kiss. The desperation coursing through me dimmed enough for me to answer when he asked me again if I was all right.
“I’m better now.”
Dove glanced around the bar then back to me. “Wanna go back to the flat? We don’t have to linger around here tonight.”
I nodded my head and bit my bottom lip to keep from kissing him again.
“I’ll be right back. I just need to grab my stuff.” Dove disappeared through the crowd, and the urge to be near him was nearly suffocating. Was this my jealousy again? It felt different—stronger. I turned to the bar, grabbing my forgotten drink and draining the glass. The taste of the watered-down cocktail made me wrinkle my nose. I wasn’t acting like myself, and more alcohol probably wasn’t the best idea. Going home and being alone with Dove was probably the best course of action until I got a handle on myself.
Dove hadn’t even changed before we left the bar. When we got home, he unpinned his wig in the living room, set it carefully on the table, then turned toward me near the door. “What’s going on with you tonight?”
“I don’t know. I think I’m just tired.” Dove didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t call me out. “You were stunning tonight.”
He grinned, his eyes lighting up. “So you like the dress then?” He tipped his head back, beckoning me to have a taste.
“Yeah, I do. I’d like it a lot better around your ankles.”
He kicked up one leg, setting his foot on the coffee table. “Come get me.”
I managed one step before his voice halted me.
“On your hands and knees.”
Without hesitating, I dropped to my knees, and crawled over to him. By the time I reached him, my cock was rock-hard in my shorts and begging for any type of friction. I couldn’t recall a time where I’d ever been more turned on by someone fully clothed. Glancing up at Dove, I wrapped my fingers around his ankle up on the table, and under the dress around his other thigh. My fingers easily glided over the white thigh-high stockings he wore until both hands connected with skin. His legs were unshaven, and as hot as the stockings were, I preferred the feel of him against my palms.
With heavy-lidded eyes, Dove looked down at me and stroked his fingers along my jaw. “Still tired?”
I grabbed his wrist, holding it in place while I kissed the tips of his index and middle fingers. “Not a chance. Take the dress off.”
Dove brought his raised foot down to the floor. He unzipped the side of the gown and let it drop, standing before me in only stockings and white lace briefs that were clearly designed for men, given the pouch barely containing his hard cock.
“Fucking hell,” I scraped out, brushing my thumb over the wet spot at his tip. He shuddered, fisting his hands in my hair, urging me on. I brushed my cheeks over the bulge in his briefs before gently nipping at him. “Get on the couch.”
Dove swallowed hard, then stepped around me and sat down on the couch with his legs spread. I crawled over to him and pulled off his briefs, stuffing them in my pocket—because I was a fucking panty thief now. Wrapping my hands under his thighs, I pulled him to the edge of the couch, going straight for his hole. I wanted to take him hard, and I wanted to ensure that he’d be ready for it.
He writhed as my tongue lapped over his hole, penetrating the tight muscle every few swipes. Giving head was still a weak spot for me—though Dove always got off on my sloppy technique—but I took to rimming right away. Lucky for me, Dove loved either. I could make him come from just eating him out, and on another day I would. Letting go of his right thigh, I felt around between the cushions until I found the bottle of lube we’d stashed there weeks ago.
Since the decision to be exclusive, we discovered it was a great idea to have lube everywhere. The freedom to have at each other whenever and wherever we wanted was thrilling; I was in a near-constant state of arousal for him. I knew what he liked, and I knew what he could take. He never asked me to stop or slow down because he didn’t have to. The thought of being buried inside him made my cock twitch, still confined in my shorts.
With one hand, I popped the cap on the lube, and flipped it upside down, dribbling a generous amount in my palm. I replaced my tongue with two slick fingers, opening Dove up, and stroking his prostate. Dove’s back arched, and his moans almost had me coming undone. I wasn’t going to last once I was inside him, so I wanted to do everything I could to get him close. I bent down and closed my lips around his pink cockhead, swirling my tongue against the sensitive underside. From there I sucked and licked him wildly. My problem was that I couldn’t focus on just one technique, so I did everything. Dove liked to rag on me for it, but I had him close to coming after less than a minute with my mouth and fingers. I pulled back and withdrew my fingers, going to unbutton my pants.
“No, don’t stop,” Dove sighed.
I kissed the inside of his knee while I slicked up my cock, shuddering at the contact. His eyes locked with mine as I lined up my cock and pressed into him, sinking into that exquisite tight heat, inch by inch. Once my balls pressed against his ass, I pushed his legs back, gripping under his bent knees. I pulled almost all the way out then watched my cock disappear inside him on my next thrust. Picking up speed, I rolled my hips into him, gritting my teeth at the sensation. As good as it felt, I needed more.
I pulled out on the next thrust, Dove’s protests once again reaching my ears. “Hang on to me,” I said harshly, out of breath. Dove hooked his ankles around my back and slung his arms around my neck before I picked him up and walked us over to the closest wall. Knowing he didn’t mind it rough, I slammed Dove into the wall then worked my arms under his knees to hold him up. I drove back into him hard and fast, causing him to inhale sharply.
“Hang on, babe. This is gonna be rough.”
Dove’s eyes widened then he nodded, hanging on to my shoulder and neck. I snapped my hips up into him with so much force that our neighbors probably heard my skin slapping his. I fucked him relentlessly, each thrust pushing me closer to blowing. Taking more of Dove’s weight, I pulled him away from the wall so
only his shoulders leaned against it. The new angle had me nailing his prostate with every drive into him.
His lips parted on a moan before the biggest smile overtook his face. He pulled me closer and kissed me, and I felt a wave of relief rush through me. I lost track of time—of everything except the feel of him in my arms, around my cock, and against my lips. All of my senses were dominated by him, and I’d never felt more alive.
He came first, biting down on my neck and whimpering as I fucked him through it. My orgasm nearly brought me to my knees seconds later. I pushed him back up against the wall for support and clung to him, not ready to let him go. My cock remained inside him while we leaned against each other, panting and gasping.
“Jaysus fuck.” He cupped my cheek with one hand then kissed me. “Do you feel better now?”
“I don’t like seeing you sad,” I admitted.
His head cocked back and his brows furrowed. “When was I sad?”
“At the club. Sitting there on the floor… you looked so heartbroken. It got to me, I guess. I don’t know.” I looked away, though I made my attempts to put him down or move.
“Hey. Look at me. That wasn’t real. This…” He shook his head, swallowing hard. “I’m all right. I promise. Don’t go all quiet on me again. You freaked me out.”
“My bad. I don’t know what came over me. I just wanted to make you smile.”
He flashed me a shy grin as a flush colored his cheeks that had nothing to do with how good I’d just fucked him. “Put me down. You can’t hold me up forever.”
I scoffed. “I bet I could. You’re like a buck thirty soaking wet.”
“There it is—now you’re back to normal. Arsehole.”
“I think half of that might be from your gorgeous hair,” I said, slowly pulling out and setting him down.
He mumbled something under his breath as he headed down the hall, stopping at the shared bathroom and flicking on the light. “Join me for a shower if you want to put your estimate to the test.” He disappeared inside the bathroom, and the sound of the shower spray reached my ears seconds later.
My feet were moving before my brain could catch up. That was an opportunity I wasn’t going to miss.
Fourteen
Dubhlainn
This is real. I’d nearly slipped and said that to Mac the other night. What a fuckin’ disaster that would have been. The fact that those words had been so close to spilling out had me reeling—even two days later. I didn’t have to question where they came from because I knew. As soon as they’d almost been spoken, I knew they were true for me. I didn’t know exactly when I fell for him, but I had.
This is real. It was very fuckin’ real to me, and that was a problem. Mac and I had agreed to keep our relationship casual, and I’d fucked that up. I should have known this would happen, or at least caught on sooner, and put a stop to us sleeping together. I should have done something.
But I didn’t. I let myself fall, and now I didn’t know what to do about it. Well, I knew that I should end things, but the selfish bastard in me liked Mac and didn’t want to. Fretting about it in bed wouldn’t solve any of my problems. As much as I didn’t want to tell her, I needed to talk to Aoibheann. If luck was on my side, she’d be able to give me some perspective—or at least calm me down.
I got up, pleased to find a bowl of Froot Loops waiting for me on the counter. To my surprise Mac was dressed—fully dressed—and at his computer. The smile he flashed my way made my insides twist with a mixture of guilt and happiness. I managed to return the gesture, and asked him why he was dressed while I busied myself making tea.
“I’m going to see Grams today. You wanna come again? She liked you, but I guess you’re pretty likable,” he said with a wink.
“Maybe next time. I was hoping to catch my sister today.”
He stood, scooping up his keys from the table and coming to stand in front of me. “Damn, that’s too bad.” He pulled something from his pocket, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of him to see what it was. “I was hoping to give you a chance to earn these back in the car. Another day, I suppose.”
Mac kissed the tip of my nose then stepped back, heading toward the door. I caught sight of my lace knickers dangling from his index finger and lunged forward with wide eyes, swiping at them. He held them out of my reach, shite-eating-grin firmly intact.
“Give those back,” I demanded.
“Not a chance, sport. I’m going to hang on to these.” He tucked them into his pocket then held me back at arm’s length by my biceps. Fighting his hold was pointless, so I stopped. “I’ll catch you later, tough guy.” With that, he stole a quick kiss and left the flat.
“What’s the craic?” I asked, slumping into the oversized chair in my sister’s living room.
“Are ya fuckin’ serious? I haven’t seen you in weeks, and you’ve barely managed to reply to my texts and calls.”
Shite. Aoibheann eyed me narrowly from the adjacent couch. She was fairly cheesed off, and for good reason. It wasn’t like me to shut her out as I had. “I’m sorry. I’ve been an arsehole—”
“That’s putting it mildly.” She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked a brow at me, daring me to challenge her.
“You’re right. I’ve been a shite brother, and I am sorry. I’ve had a lot going on.”
Her anger melted away to concern, and she uncrossed her arms. “Are you in trouble?”
“No, it’s nothin’ like that. I…” I squeezed the back of my neck, searching for the right words. No. I was stalling. The right words were right there. “I fell in love.”
Her surprised gasp was the only sound in the room. My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest, though I sat still with my head high.
“Well, why didn’t you tell me sooner, ya eejit?” She waved her hands in front of her in a gesture I hadn’t seen from her before. I guess I shocked her.
“I didn’t realize what was happening until a few nights ago.”
She nodded, brushing her bangs behind her ear. “Who is he? What’s he like?”
This was the moment I’d been bracing for. I kept my eyes on my sister while I fingered the holes in the knees of my jeans. It was far too hot to be wearing jeans, though I had a feeling I’d have been on fire regardless of what I chose to wear. “It’s Mac,” I croaked out.
Her brows drew together as she processed my words—as the weight of them sank in. “Mac—as in—”
“Yes.”
Aoibheann crossed her arms and leaned back, not once breaking eye contact with me. “Macalister isn’t gay, Dubhlainn.”
The sigh that left my lips was rueful. “It isn’t really my place to discuss that, though I doubt he’d mind.” I swallowed hard, rubbing my now sweaty palms on my thighs. “He’s bisexual. We discovered that a few months ago, not long after I moved in.” I laid out the events for her, starting with his initial interest, right up to my realization. She remained silent through the entirety of my explanation, which unnerved me. I could count on one hand the number of times my sister was rendered speechless. Those other times had never ended well.
I waited. I’d laid the complete haymes of my life out for her, and I’d wait for her reply—even if it killed me to do so.
After an eternity, Aoibheann sucked in a sharp breath then exhaled it through her mouth on a hum. “Fancy a few scoops?”
I blinked at her like a stunned muppet. “I do. Whiskey would be brilliant.”
She got up and motioned for me to follow her, so I did. In the kitchen, I took a seat at the small oak table. My sister set two tumblers and a bottle of Bushmills on the table before joining me. She filled the glasses and pushed one over to me.
“Sláinte,” we both muttered as we clinked our glasses together, then tossed back the whiskey.
“So,” she started, “you’re in love with Macalister, and he’s into fellas now. Grand.”
Her tone was flat, neutral even. “You’re not angry?”
She shook her head,
which did a lot more to calm my nerves than I’d expected. “I understand why you kept it from me, though I really wish you hadn’t. I meant what I said about him being a good man. I meant the rest of it too, but it sounds like the two of ye discussed things and didn’t entirely jump in blind. I won’t lie and say that a part of me doesn’t want to get a good dig in on him, but I’ll behave.”
A snort of laughter had me nearly choking on whiskey. “I’d be worried if you didn’t want to.”
“What about him? Where does he stand with you?”
I sighed, slumping forward and resting my elbows on the table. “I haven’t outright asked him. I don’t have to. Mac is… very honest. He was upfront with me about what he wanted from the very start, and I agreed. How I feel now feels like a betrayal to him.”
“You can’t help who you fall for.”
“No, I can’t. I could have recognized the signs instead of blissfully ignoring them. I should have—”
“But ya didn’t. Stop worryin’ about what you could or should have done. All that matters is what you’ll do now that you know.” She sounded so certain, so confident in her words.
“What should I do?”
She smiled ruefully at me. “I’m sorry, pet. I can’t answer that for you.”
“Do you think getting involved with him was a mistake?” Part of me didn’t want to hear her answer. I knew it was a mistake, I just didn’t fuckin’ care.
“Not if you’re happy. I get that it’s not an easy situation, but you have to do what you think is best for you.”
I groaned, sliding back against my chair. “I was hoping you’d scold me then tell me what to do. I’m even more conflicted now.”
“Sure look it,” she replied with a grin.
“There’s something else you should know.”
She cocked an eyebrow at me, taking another drink. “Oh? Should I give us a refill first?”
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