Twin Savage

by Sunniva Dee

  My stomach implodes with heat.

  “Good to be back. I’m taking my suitcase up.”

  “Babe!” James is here, all grins and grabbing me by the waist. He swings me around. “I’ll take the suitcase for you.”

  “Hey, you. Naw, I’m fine. Joy and I need to freshen up anyway.” I smile. “Thank you, though.”

  “Be down in fifteen!” Marlon shouts after us, spatula held high.

  “Sure thing.”

  Stairs. Upstairs hallway. My bedroom. Luka’s door is open, and it’s spotless too. I shake my head to Joy, who laughs quietly. “Guess they wanted to impress you.”

  “Ha, they’ve shocked the daylights out of me. This is even tidier than on James’ Mother’s Day luncheon last year.” I bite my smile and sink down on my bed.

  Yeah, they did it. And it feels amazing that they care so much.

  I’m full and a little tipsy when I follow Joy out on the porch to say goodbye. Afterward, I say goodnight to the boys. That’s what they are tonight: boys—good boys of the kind that want to clean and make sure I’m taken care of. It makes my chest light.

  Upstairs, the scent of Julian has faded from my room. This hurts, but the smart, bigger side of my brain acknowledges that it’s the way it should be.

  One sleepless hour in, I change my sheets. Bubble-gum pink walls require lighter pink sheets according to Aci, so I’m dressing my bed for success now. My new sheets from Portland smell like Mom’s fabric softener and nothing like Julian.

  I huff and throw myself on the bed afterward, springs squeaking. For a moment, I listen to the house. All is quiet. No party downstairs, no Luka with girls next-door. I have no reason to be awake.

  I hate the dark thoughts, the memory of what we did and everything we didn’t. We missed out on so much, Julian and I. Why did I let him sleep in? I shouldn’t have gone to class without him.

  I toss on the bed.

  I was mad. The last thing I felt for him while he was still alive was anger. I left thinking he’d always do this, oversleep and not take life seriously. Fear prickles my scalp. Shh, he didn’t know that I was mad at him.

  I squirm under my duvet.

  Does that matter though? Does it make it any better that he didn’t know? In the grand scheme of things, I wasn’t thinking about how I loved him. No, I was thinking about his flaws, and the universe knows this. What if he still exists somewhere, and he knows too?

  Fuck!

  This night is endless.

  The door to my room does a click behind me. A narrow stream of light enters from the corridor. I watch the far wall and the shadow of a man that moves inward. I remain still, hope and relief flooding me.

  The man doesn’t speak, just approaches until his knee makes the mattress sink. My heart hammers with anticipation.

  Some of the Fratters wear cologne. Others use shampoos that are easy to recognize from a distance. This man doesn’t have a tell.

  “You can’t sleep,” he whispers. “Do you mind?”

  I move my head against the pillow in approval, and he slinks under my duvet. The light tickle of hair on his legs sends goosebumps up my body. It’s been so long, so long since someone held me and brushed against me.

  “I’ll help you sleep.”

  “Diego,” I breathe. “Is it you?”

  He kisses my temple. “Yeah, it’s just me.” Warm, his mouth moves down my throat and nips at my shoulder. A chill runs up my spine. He lifts my arm and caresses me from the wrist and down to my armpit. Oh he’s brave tonight. Sure fingers trail to the side of my breast, igniting skin my nightie doesn’t cover. His touch flares my senses to life, and I let out a hushed moan.

  Diego lowers the strap of my nightie and kneads down my shoulder. When his touch disappears, it’s to align the length of his body against my back. I wiggle to get closer—this isn’t enough! His chest and stomach are bare, the only thing obstructing full contact being the sheer fabric of his boxers.

  His touch returns, embracing me from behind, hands sliding under my nightgown, pressing against my thighs. My mouth drops open, needing more air.

  It’s not culturally acceptable when his caresses stalk upward, tantalizing and slow, when they dip inside my panties and slide down until they find the center of my slickness. I press my thighs around him, stopping him from going further. Stopping him from interrupting this sweet, wrong pleasure too.

  I rock against him, and he lets out a groan against my ear. I’m so wet.

  “Diego...” I begin. “We... can’t.”

  A sure tug hoists me up enough to remove my underwear. He lays me on my back and lifts my knees up so I am open and naked and hot beneath him. The light stubble of his chin finds my softest folds without hesitation, and his tongue makes me jolt and suppress a squeak.

  We’re so quiet. We’re languid movement. His hands spread me open, and then a finger—two—move inside of me. I rock with denial and acceptance. I want to cry no and scream more! This isn’t right.

  My eyes plead when he sheaths himself. Diego’s gaze glitters with compassion as he sinks over me. I shake my head weakly, and he sees it—I see that he sees it—but he steadies my face between two kind hands that treat me like Heaven.

  I won’t be pulling away.

  My body stiffens with pleasure as he shoves into my depth.

  I’m in a daze this morning. Confused but scot-free of sexual tension. I’m good at separating the expected from reality, and I know for a fact that I did nothing wrong by being with Diego last night. We were good for each other.

  I steal a glance at him, now, in the kitchen with the others. Naturally tanned, smooth-skinned, hair damp from the shower. A small smile crooks the corner of his mouth as his gaze secretly floats through mine.

  The man was delicious. I fell asleep like a rock in his arms afterward, and then he woke me up again this morning with another hot stab of love.

  Nathaniel passes me a mug the Fratters got me a few years ago. KEEP CALM AND SMILE, BABE, it reads in cap letters below a big crown. They grinned when I opened it. Guess I was the only one not in on the joke. I take a steaming sip and swallow the perfect mix of strong coffee with a dash of milk.

  The Queen has picked up the routine of before Portland, with every Fratter partaking in an unspoken kitchen ritual. They plod past each other in different states of dressed, some ready to leave the house, others in pajamas pants and a t-shirt. Marlon enters, jerking his chin up in a happy greeting. “What’s up, babe?”

  I greet him back, saying that nothing much is going on, because—the much part was over about a half hour ago. Marlon’s wearing a suit. I run my fingers up and down in the air, encompassing his form.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Field trip to the court, ya know, with my litter. James’s going too.”

  Sure enough, the two of them look crazy sharp in dark suits and ties. Marlon with his chocolate eyes, gleaming dark skin, and dreadlocks, next to straight-laced, shorthaired James and his winter-grey stare.

  Quite the treat, I think before I shut myself off, because geez, I was just with Diego.

  I duck into my mug feeling a small blush creep in; it was impossible to climax quietly last night, but I think I did a better job at it this morning. The Fratters love their jokes and sexual innuendos, and it’s surprising, really, that they haven’t put me on the spot for it yet. Maybe I wasn’t as loud as I thought?

  Diego is one hundred percent himself too, discussing the pros and cons of the Bass Pro Shop Stratocast XM2001 fishing reel versus the more expensive KastKing Royale One-a-Million Legend GM5 with James. If they asked me, I’d say they have damn pretentious names for metal-and-line trinkets. Also, I don’t remember them ever going fishing.

  Luka arrives late to the breakfast party. He saunters, flip-flops dragging against the linoleum and coming to an abrupt halt as he takes me
in with cold eyes. Heat slinks up my cheeks. Of course he knows. Of course he heard every damn sigh I made last night. I remember him teasing Julian and me back when we were happy.

  Lenny deposits a donut in my hand. My fingers pinch down on it automatically, but I can’t take my eyes off Luka. Fuck. Fuck. He’s going to out me. All hell is going to break loose. This will be the most humbling moment of my life.

  My fiancé died six weeks ago, and I just slept with one of his friends. What the hell kind of human being am I? What’s his twin brother going to say?

  What do I care what that jerk thinks about me?

  His eyes are less bloodshot this morning...

  The chatter dies around our uncomfortable standoff. Nathaniel sniffs. Opens the fridge door and slams it closed. Marlon clears his throat and rummages through the utensil drawer; Luka is a goddamn loose cannon these days, and no one knows what he’ll do next, least of all me.

  Offense is the best defense.

  “Morning, Luka. Sleep well?” I cock my head at him for effect. Why not go down spectacularly?

  No one clears their throat anymore now. It’s dead quiet in the kitchen.

  “Like a baby. You?”

  “Like a baby also.”

  “Good.”

  “Good.”

  He does that thing where he folds his arms so hard over his chest his biceps pop against his pecs. Julian had the same build as his brother. He just didn’t have a reason to work out as much.

  “Do you have a ride to class?”

  I grapple the outside of my pockets for my car keys. They’re there. I exhale, relieved, because I can’t have the testosterone pals inhibit my freedom anymore. I do a good enough job at that myself. Luka lets out a hissed chuckle.

  “Sure do,” I say, in the spirit of our stilted conversation. “My own ride. I’ll be happy to be the designated driver. Lenny?” I jut my chin at him since he’s the only one at my campus.

  “Sounds awesome.” He makes a show of half-swinging toward Luka, mouthing, I got you.

  Luka doesn’t break the ice-mask of his people.

  I remember when he used to be funny.

  Tuesday Night

  I need a new bed.

  I’ve never really paid attention to how much it squeaks before. I guess Julian never thought of it either.

  Julian.

  Bedtime is a study in forcing my mind off things. There are so many of them, just a myriad hovering and waiting for a chance to attack. Julian. The past. The future. Diego. I shouldn’t think too hard about my thesis statement either. It will keep me awake.

  I get up and turn on low music. They’re all songs Julian and I didn’t listen to together. New and chill, it’s some sort of electronica Aci made me listen to in Portland. Maybe if I think of it as sleep hypnosis.

  I want to make it to the meeting with my adviser at school too, which means there’s no oversleeping in the morning. For the rest of the semester, I’m looking at getting up at six thirty. It’s a price I have to pay for being gone for so long.

  I keep Julian’s brand-new, expensive surround speakers on low even if Luka is the only one who can hear them. He isn’t the type that bangs on the wall for people to quiet down either.

  A lump in my throat wants to swell, but I force it down. Sure, it’d be nice to live on dark thoughts and insomnia, but it isn’t conducive to an actual future.

  I give one last violent toss in bed, facing the door.

  It opens. No light sieves in, but the silhouette of a man is the same as yesterday. My heart skips a beat. Is it Diego? He walks in slowly, quietly, and lowers to his haunches in front of my face. Then, he strokes my hair away.

  “Sleepless in the Valley?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Lenny wears an outdoorsy cologne full of pine needles and leather, and my nostrils flare at the whiff of him. Shower-fresh and alive, he breathes next to me, that hint of Lenny-fragrance teasing me. My nipples contract.

  “Scoot over.” He doesn’t say it like a question, and I don’t treat it like one, because he’s welcome here. He’s weighed my body down and helped me go to sleep before. Men are a good sleep aid.

  When he slides under my sheets the way Diego did last night, I wonder if they’re taking advantage of me. But I’m desperate for warmth and touch and relief, and they’re here. Lenny helps me remove my top, just a singlet with no bra tonight, and what does that say about me? Confused—

  So—

  God, am I a deviant?

  He whispers about me. Tells me words about beauty, about longing, about wanting, about always needing me happy. He kisses my mouth, and I open so he can kiss inside too, my tongue needs his and sucks—I—sigh.

  “You’ll never lack of anything,” he promises, removing my underwear like Diego did. I’m hot for his words, for the attention he gives to every tendon of my legs from my toes to the inside of my thighs.

  He asks me—asks so sweetly—and I haven’t sucked on a man in so long. I want it, grasp for him, and he groans with bliss as I take him deep between my lips. It’s not right. I’m not right. What are we doing, and I love, love this moment.

  Afterward, he turns me and stretches his naked body over mine. He presses my back against his front, thrusting deep, but I need him harder. I need this bed to rock. I don’t want this, and yet I do so much.

  Tears brim, maybe they fall, but it’s dark and the pillow hides secrets well.

  He slides too far out. I whimper for him to come back. He obeys, mercifully, saying he’ll always give me what I want. He’ll always be there for me. What if you get a girlfriend? If you still need me. You first. The babe first.

  I spasm around him, milking him, and he doesn’t hold back. He gives in too, with a groan that’s louder than my own. I don’t think of Luka tonight.

  I don’t think of Julian until I wake up entangled in Lenny without sheets. My sleep aid.

  Wednesday night.

  It’s night number three since I returned to the Queen. If I fall asleep on my own, the door won’t glide open and a good friend won’t stand there offering to be my relief.

  I could have told them to back off. I could have mentioned it at dinner or told someone—James?—to inform the rest of them that there’s no visiting Geneva at night. I could lock the door.

  All these years, they’ve been here, and I’ve only ever seen them as my buddies. Appalled animosity toward Luka I’ve always felt, but with everyone else, there’s just been the comfortable sensation of friendship.

  I wonder what happens if my bed doesn’t squeak?

  I lay perfectly still for three hours. I have no music on, no lights, no candles. I don’t even open my laptop in case the light sifts out into the hallway. I’m as awake as the river at home, and fending off old regrets is a full-time job.

  It’s three in the morning, and the Queen is quiet. There is no sound from any room. For the third night in a row, not even Luka has visitors.

  My door never opens. I start to relax, and my thoughts wander to deeper issues. Could I have changed anything?

  What if I’d come home after my morning class instead of going to second period? I didn’t need that class. It was just extra credits. Would Julian have been alive today?

  Luka discovered Julian. Did he call the ambulance immediately? Did he? Would I have called sooner if I was there?

  No, probably not. Luka said he called right away. The ambulance came instantly. They weren’t able to save him. Couldn’t save him. Couldn’t save him. They didn’t, and—

  Nighttime is the worst!

  I get out of bed. I stomp now, to the window, and pull the curtains apart so I can stare out over the dark neighborhood and try for a glimpse of the moon between the mountains. Behind me, the door glides open, and I let out a shuddering sigh.

  A part of my brain tried. The other did
not; conscious of my short nightie and lack of panties, I don’t turn to see who it is. Instead, I let my pulse thicken with some misguided rush, small creaks of the floorboards keeping me informed of his approach.

  I look down when he touches me, when arms snake around my middle. Dark like the silhouettes in my doorway, they pull me back against a hard frame. I sigh and lean in. The relief of another conquered night ignites a fire in my stomach.

  A tress tumbles forward as he kisses the top of my head. “Did you just wake up?”

  “Not really. I never fell asleep.”

  “Strange,” Marlon breathes. “I didn’t hear you until now.”

  “That’s not so strange. Your room is far away.”

  He turns me in his arms, and I accept with my hands around his neck. For a second, he watches me, but it must be magic that makes him hike me above him without words. I look down on chiseled features and a full mouth, and it comes naturally to lock my legs around his waist and let him carry me back to bed.

  “I wasn’t in my room,” he whispers while he sinks us down carefully.

  I don’t ask. I don’t need to know where he was. I let him lift my gown over my head and splay me naked on the sheets. He entwines our fingers and stretches our arms over my head, locking them against the mattress.

  He’s taut, tall, his body dominating mine. With a quick move, he gets rid of his underwear. Marlon’s mouth flows over my body, kissing me, and I’m hyper-aware of his smooth length bobbing against my stomach, my thigh, my knee while he tastes me.

  He shifts upward until he groans quietly in my ear, the most sexual call I’ve ever heard. He kisses my lips apart, makes me squirm with impatience.

  “Get ready,” he demands while my mind flails with culturally bound morals and standards and future behavioral patterns. I shouldn’t. Why shouldn’t I? Ah, it’s exquisite to have every cell in my body strain for someone. I want it all at once.

  I whimper when he presses inside of me, wide, big, long, like Julian was. I’ve missed this too, someone who fills me so completely.