Chapter Twenty-Two
After all that Titus had confided in him, Draven wanted to share his past but for the life of him, couldn’t figure out how. Him being a shifter was a big part of it, along with the betrayal and threat to him and his kind, his loved ones. Andres had broken Draven’s belief in love, but Titus was swiftly building it back up.
Draven rubbed at his chest as he studied Titus’ profile. Titus was talking on the phone with Stacy. He was tense, with his shoulders tight and a pinched expression in place. Even so, he was handsome, and Draven’s breath hitched when Titus suddenly relaxed and smiled.
Must mean his house and everything’s okay. Draven knew Titus was worried Joel would show up, though he had said Joel hadn’t contacted him from prison. Draven wasn’t sure if that just meant Joel had had more time to stew in his sadistic hatefulness or if he’d moved on with plans to find someone else to beat.
In Draven’s experiences—albeit they were limited to observances of other people’s lives—abusers didn’t change. He’d heard some claims here and there that one got help and was a changed person, but he would never believe it. Anyone who could hurt another being and make them feel like they had no value was not redeemable.
The world wasn’t so black and white. Draven needed to work on the in-between shades that were more numerous than the starker ends of the spectrum. Regardless, he had a problem with abusive assholes—especially now that he knew Titus had been victimized by one and was still living in fear of him.
Draven fisted his hands even as he worked to keep his expression calm. He had some friends—well, Riveen did, mainly. Draven wasn’t as chatty. He did have some shifter family and friends he could reach out to for help, though. Riven, always the life of the party, had many more. Between the both of them, they might be able to find out where Joel was.
Of course, it’d help if Draven had a last name for the fucker.
And he wasn’t going to tell anyone else Titus’ personal business unless Titus said it was okay.
Draven bit his bottom lip as he thought about that. He needed to find a way to tell Titus who he was, what he was, rather, and about his own past. The idea made Draven’s gut burn like he’d swallowed acid—and not the fun kind, either.
Titus had been spooked by Riveen—asshole—earlier in the morning.
But he hadn’t kept running. After Draven had started talking to him, Titus hadn’t kept trying to drag him out of the sea. Yes, Titus might be leery of getting in the water now, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t get in. Draven understood how much of a shock it must have been to see Riveen pop up like that.
And Draven knew what Riveen was up to. He was trying to get Draven to tell Titus he was a shifter.
Draven tried playing that scenario out in his head then stopped himself short. Titus had enough stress in his life right now. Adding to that might not be the best thing to do. And what were his true intentions in telling Titus? To remove the chunk of guilt over hiding the secret? Because hurting Titus or scaring him to make himself feel better was unacceptable.
So Draven decided he’d think it over some more, and see how Titus felt before dropping the bombshell that shifters existed and Draven was one of them.
He’d do what was best for Titus because he needed to put Titus first.
Titus chuckled and flapped one hand. He was an animated person on the phone and was adorable to watch. Draven was gawking like a starved man staring at a steak, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop it.
Then Titus turned, and their eyes met. Draven flushed with warmth and some happy, bright sensation that he knew meant he was heart over heinie for Titus.
“Gotta go,” Titus murmured, gaze locked with Draven’s. “Yeah. Later.” He disconnected the call, tossed the phone onto the counter then sauntered over to Draven.
Words weren’t necessary. Draven reached for him, cupping Titus’ nape and hip, pulling him close and kissing him. There was no holding back. Draven showed Titus all his want, all of his need. Draven was trembling, shivers racing down his spine as the importance of the man in his arms truly sunk into him.
He loved Titus, without a doubt, and with the deep, soul-penetrating love that people usually only dreamed of having. Something in him recognized something in Titus. Draven couldn’t pinpoint it or name it, but he knew it was true.
Draven tugged at the back of Titus’ shirt. He wanted all the clothing gone—Titus’, his. He needed skin. It meant breaking apart for a few precious seconds, but Draven pulled back and whipped off Titus’ shirt. Then he had his own off, along with his shorts. Titus was nude just as quickly, and Draven reached for him, moaning when he finally got the contact he craved.
Titus clutched at his biceps as Draven kissed him without finesse or restraint. They moved, stumbling because they wouldn’t let go of each other, wouldn’t stop kissing on the way over to the couch.
Draven wanted to take his time, but he also needed to be inside Titus now.
Titus raked his blunt nails up and over Draven’s shoulders, not hurting him, but bringing a delicious sting and sensitizing Draven’s skin.
This was going to be fast and dirty.
Draven didn’t have a condom at hand, but that was okay. He broke the kiss and spun Titus around, then bent him over the back of the couch. As soon as he had Titus in place, Draven pressed one finger between Titus’ cheeks and rubbed over his hole.
Titus hissed and arched his lower back. He spread his knees, giving Draven an erotic view that stole his breath. He bent and licked his way down Titus’ crease to his tight little pucker.
“Oh…god—” Titus broke off with a whimper when Draven licked him.
Draven pressed Titus’ cheeks apart, then rimmed Titus until Titus’ hole loosened and Titus was begging him for more.
“Suck,” Draven ordered, offering Titus two fingers.
Titus moaned as he sealed his lips around them.
Draven’s cock ached. He was dangerously close to coming just from what he was doing to Titus.
Titus flicked his tongue between Draven’s fingers, and Draven had to grip the base of his own shaft to suppress his release. He nipped Titus’ ass as he slid his fingers free.
When he pushed them into Titus’ hole, the gripping heat and silky walls contracting around his digits almost drove Draven out of his mind. He wanted to fuck Titus raw, to thrust into him and fill him with his cum.
But Draven had enough sense to hold back. He thrust his fingers deeper, harder, and Titus moaned and begged for more.
Draven curved his fingers, feeling around for Titus’ gland. “Jack yourself,” he managed to get out as he found it.
“Fuck!” Titus shouted. He reached for his dick and started stroking it.
Draven felt the pleasure Titus was experiencing, felt it in the way Titus’ ass clenched around his fingers, the way he shoved back harder, demanding a rougher fuck.
Draven gave him what he could, pressing in hard and fast, turning his wrist, stretching Titus without pushing him too far. The next time Draven brushed over his gland, Titus keened, and a pink blush spread down from his neck to his back. His hips stuttered, and Draven smelled his spunk as Titus came, Draven’s fingers held still by Titus’ gripping walls.
Draven kissed Titus’ ass, his lower back, his hip, loving on Titus until Titus’ climax ebbed and the clenching muscles holding Draven’s fingers loosened.
Then Draven eased his digits free and spat in his hand. He spread that and the pre-cum leaking from his slit over his length before he pressed his cock between Titus’ cheeks.
Titus reached back and grabbed at him as Draven fucked Titus’ crease, grunting like some wild beast, unable to form a single word with the pleasure building inside him. Less than a dozen thrusts, and Draven shuddered, gasping as he came, his orgasm tearing up from deep inside him.
He couldn’t keep his eyes open after the first jet splattered on Titus’ back. That was too bad. He’d like to have watched. Instead, he just felt, shaken to his
core with the intensity of his climax.
Draven was weak-kneed afterward, and he hooked one arm around Titus’ hips as he collapsed on the couch.
Titus flopped down on his belly with his head in Draven’s lap. “Jesus,” Titus mumbled. “’Bout killed me.”
Draven trailed his fingers through his cum on Titus’ back. “Ditto. Can’t even stand up.”
Titus rumbled something and wedged one of his arms behind Draven and draped the other around his front.
Draven wanted this every day for the rest of his life. He thought Titus did, too. Their future couldn’t be built on lies or secrets, however. Draven needed to tell Titus soon that he was a shifter.
He’d talk to Riveen, and a few other people, see if they could find Joel-whatever-his-name was. But even if they didn’t find him soon, Draven was going to bare his soul to Titus. It wasn’t for his own sake, either, because Draven knew after what they’d just shared, that Titus was as deep into the relationship as he was.
Draven wasn’t falling alone, and he wouldn’t hide who he was from Titus much longer.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It didn’t surprise Titus that Riveen walked into the house without bothering to knock. Titus was just glad that he and Draven had showered and gotten dressed minutes earlier, because he was certain that them being naked wouldn’t have stopped Riveen or embarrassed him.
“Aw, you two are so cute!” Riveen said in a syrup-sweet voice. “All cuddly and smelling like sex.”
“We showered,” Titus informed him, trying not to blush—to no avail.
“Rive,” Draven growled, striding toward his brother. “I swear to the gods, I’ll toss you down the stairs if you don’t behave.”
Riveen didn’t appear to be the least bit intimidated as he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Let me just point out that knowing you had sex, and I didn’t, is punishment enough for my smart mouth.”
Titus shook his head. “There are so many things wrong with your statement that I don’t even know where to begin. Maybe with, that’s not an apology.”
“Duh.” Riveen squealed and ducked when Draven swiped at him and all but pranced around to the other side of the room. “Missed me, missed me, now you gotta— Well, wrong state for that next part. We’re backward in Texas, but not that backward. Some of the time.”
“Hey, don’t mess with Texas. It has some governmental issues, but the people are generally great,” Titus said.
Riveen gave another eye-roll. “Calm your tits, Titus. Heh. I like that. You know if you take the U out of your name, you get tits?”
Draven growled again and started for Riveen. Titus figured the brothers needed to blow off some steam or do whatever it was brothers did. Pick on each other, apparently. “I’m going to get the enchiladas going.” He needed food after all the calories he’d burned off coming his brains out. “You two—don’t break anything.”
“Just gonna break him,” Draven called out.
Riveen cackled, and Titus left them to it. He had everything ready to make what he called ‘cheater’s enchiladas’. It was probably a casserole, because he was too lazy to soften the tortillas, then stuff and roll them. Instead, he used a baking dish and layered his favorite brand of beanless chili, then tortillas, a can of diced tomatoes and green chilies and lots of cheese. He kept repeating that pattern until the dish was filled, which didn’t take long.
Titus crossed over to the other cabinets and took the tin foil out of the drawer—and realized there were no more sounds of horsing around coming from the living room. Instead, he caught the low murmur of voices, and he wondered what the brothers were discussing that they didn’t want him to overhear.
Oh. Titus stopped mid-step and almost face-planted. They’re talking about me. Is…is Draven telling him—? Titus gulped and felt shame wash over him. Of course Draven would tell Riveen about Joel. Draven and Riven were close despite all the sniping and teasing. Or maybe because of it, Titus didn’t know which.
Titus forced himself to move, to finish walking back to the dish he’d been readying for the oven. It would have been nice if Draven had asked me if I was okay with him telling Riveen beforehand. Is this a betrayal of trust? Did I ask him not to tell anyone? Should I have had to? Where’s the line between familial loyalty and—?
“Dude, you’re gonna kill the tinfoil.”
Titus startled at Riveen’s voice. “What?” He blinked and saw that he’d crushed the foil he’d pulled out. Titus didn’t even remember unrolling it. “Oh. Uh.”
Draven was at his side in an instant. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he whispered, his breath warm against Titus’ ear.
Titus glanced at him then started unballing the foil. “Nothing.”
“Titus.” Draven touched his lower back. “Tell me.”
Titus pressed his lips together.
Draven looked at his brother. “Rive, give us some privacy.”
“No fucking,” Riveen said before he muttered something Titus couldn’t quite make out.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Draven demanded, then added, “please.”
Titus still didn’t know if he had a right to be mad or not. “I heard you two talking a minute or two ago.”
Draven stiffened beside him. “Fuck.”
Titus forced himself to spread the foil over the top of the pan then place the enchiladas in the oven. All the while, Draven stood rigid like he’d been turned to stone.
Maybe I’m making too much of it. Would I have said he could tell Riveen? Well, I think I’d have have agreed after I had time to consider it. What am I upset over? That he didn’t ask me first, even though I would have said yes?
When he thought about it like that, Titus felt like a jerk. He sighed and turned to lean against the counter so that he was facing Draven. Titus didn’t want anger or whatever this uncomfortable feeling was that was happening between them.
“Hey.” He nudged Draven’s foot with his toes. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”
Draven shook his head and finally looked at him. “Not mad?” He blinked. “You’re not freaked out, either?”
Titus went for full-course honesty. “Well, I was at first. I don’t want you to have to keep secrets from your brother, though. I do wish you’d have asked me before you told him about Joel.”
Draven frowned. “What? Before I—?” His eyes went wide. “Oh, no! No, I didn’t—I wouldn’t, not without discussing it with you. I thought you heard us?”
Then it was Titus’ turn to frown. “What were you talking about? I thought…” He felt like an idiot. “Crap. I couldn’t actually hear what was being said, just murmurs, like I wasn’t supposed to be able to hear. I assumed, like an idiot, you were telling Riveen about…about Joel.”
Draven shook his head. “But I wasn’t. We were talking about family stuff.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “Shit. Shit!”
Titus got a bad feeling in the pit of his belly. “Draven, it’s okay. I don’t have to know everything you and Riveen talk about. I made an incorrect assumption, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or to intrude.”
“The thing is…” Draven took a deep breath. “The thing is—”
“Is it safe to come into the kitchen now?” Riveen bounded into the room. Draven grumbled, and Titus patted his arm.
“It’s safe,” Titus said. “Everything’s okay.”
Riveen smiled, but it wasn’t quite his usual one. “Oh? So…nothing’s…shifted between you two?”
“What does that mean, even?” Titus asked as Draven snarled, “Rive!”
Riveen held up his hands as if asking them to stop, though Titus didn’t know what they were supposed to stop doing. “Okay, okay, I just worry about you two lovebirds. You are my inspiration, so you aren’t allowed to do…whatever that was you did. No weirdness. Only love.”
Only love. Titus’ gaze tangled with Draven’s, and yes, he knew he loved the man despite the short time they’d known each other.
He wanted to say th
e words, but not with Riveen right there. Titus slipped his hand in one of Draven’s instead. Later, once Riveen is gone. He’d tell Draven that he’d fallen in love with him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Draven was nervous. It was stupid, really, to be on edge, but he knew he was going to say those three special words to Titus tonight.
He was kind of thinking Titus had the same plan in mind. Titus kept shooting him quick glances that spoke of the same nervousness Draven was experiencing. Then there were the lingering looks, the casual, frequent touches they both shared.
And the connection between him and Titus was almost a physical thing, like a wire growing tauter by the minute, although unlike a stretched wire, the connection wasn’t thinning. Rather, it was growing stronger. Draven felt it in his core, his soul, in the ancient part of what he was that knew its mate.
He’d thought Andres was the man he’d spend his life with, but what he’d had with Andres could not compare to the feelings he had for Titus. Draven didn’t question why he’d been fooled before. He’d been terribly lonely and had wanted someone to commit to.
Then he’d wanted nothing more than to protect his bruised heart after Andres’ betrayal.
“You need to tell him,” Riveen muttered, nudging Draven’s hip when Titus headed for the bathroom and left them alone. “You’re already hooked. You have to tell him. He’s not Andres. I have love cooties from the two of you eye-fucking each other all night.”
“Love cooties?” Draven glared at Riveen. “You’re stuck at about twelve years old, emotionally—max.”
“Duh. And now I’ll have to go home and scrub the cooties off before I fall for some guy with a pretty smile and a nice ass,” Riveen drawled. “Like your guy.”
Draven glared harder. “Stop ogling him, and shouldn’t you be going home soon?”
“It’d be rude to leave while Titus is in the bathroom.” Riveen stood, though, and stretched, his back popping as he arched it. “Mmm. I could use a massage. Bet I can find someone to give me one, along with giving me the big D.”
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