by Z. Allora
But he didn’t get a chance. Keith swept his tongue into Corey’s mouth, laying claim to everything. As the ocean dragged sand from under their feet, it took pieces of Corey’s heart. Would the seawater wash away the hurt and help heal the pain, or would it be salt in old cuts he willingly opened?
A kaleidoscope pattern filtered through first love and the possibility of a new… beginning.
Corey wanted to stay in the abyss of forgotten dreams. Why couldn’t he?
Because to trust meant more than relying on them to keep you upright as the waves crashed in and dragged out. Trust—he didn’t know if he was capable of that.
He stepped away from Keith. “Jackson will be wondering where we are.”
11
Truth and Too Many Dares
Two days later, as Keith refilled Ruffles’s dishes, he felt no closer to a resolution.
“Key-Key! Sexy man. Pretty boy. Night.” Ruffles shrieked in his ear, just in case the pacing with his talons digging into his shoulder didn’t inform Keith of his impatience for sleep.
Jax waved. “Night, Ruffles.”
Corey set down his drink and wandered over. He gave Ruffles loving scratches. Corey leaned against Keith, allowing him to reach for some beak kisses, and then he purred, “Sleep tight, Ruffles.”
Keith would not be jealous of his own bird!
Corey and Keith had shared several more kisses. Heck, Corey even initiated a few, but he always pulled back. Corey did seem to be warming to the idea of taking his third mate, at least physically, but neither Jax nor Keith would push.
He nuzzled Ruffles once more before putting him in his cage, then dropped the blanket over it.
He and Jax were getting closer by the moment. During the day, they shot the shit like they had in high school, and every night evolved into a hot grope session, which usually ended with Keith coming in Jackson’s mouth.
In truth, he’d never had so much regular, and to be honest, excellent sex in his life, but Corey wasn’t a part of it, making the experiences incomplete.
Then of course, sooner or later Jax before or after would slink off to spend time with Corey, leaving Keith to sit alone in the living room. He felt like he was horning in until the bedroom door would open and he’d be waved in.
That first night, if Jax hadn’t basically dragged him into the bed, he wouldn’t have gone. Keith had felt creepy having someone on the other side of Jax who didn’t want him in bed, but then Corey reached past Jax in his sleep and joined their hands together. Keith stayed awake most of that night, mystified at how Corey held his hand while he slept. That tiny bit of acceptance—even given in an unconscious state—gave him hope, but not much, because as soon as Corey would wake he’d pull away.
Keith was in no doubt Corey wanted his third mate, but he wished it wasn’t Keith.
If stupid high school behavior could be taken back, he’d do it in a heartbeat. No matter how much community service he’d done, until Corey forgave Keith, nothing else counted.
“Let’s play a game.” Corey, who was two drinks ahead of Jax and Keith, poured his third mojito from the pitcher on the table.
Jax threw an easy arm around Corey. “Like what? Truth or dare?”
Corey snorted, and true to his brand, he humped Jax’s leg. “We could play naked Twister.”
Jesus, the way Corey’s ass gyrated should be illegal, or at least monitored. No way would he survive Corey writhing over him, so he suggested, “How about two truths and a lie?”
“What’s that?” Corey flopped on the sofa, putting his head on Jax’s lap, his body loose and relaxed.
Jax combed his fingers through Corey’s curls.
Taking the chair across from them, Keith swallowed back his need to twirl those curls through his fingers as he tried not to feel like the odd man out. He kept the explanation simple. “We tell one lie and two truths, presenting them in no specific order, and then the other two guess which is which.”
“Sure. Though I still think naked Twister is a better option.” Corey lingered on his wish but he’d decided to play the new game.
“Though not for the faint of heart. Let’s try this game.” Jax snatched away Corey’s drink.
“Hey, I wasn’t finished with that,” Corey said with a discontented grumble.
Keith forced himself not to imagine Corey and Jax naked, sliding against each other… or him. “Who wants to start?”
When Jax didn’t jump to take the lead, Corey sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, I will. I finished War and Peace, I exchanged sex for a place to sleep, and I have never owned a car.”
Keith directed his wayward brain away from how great it would feel to play Twister to puzzling this out. “I know how you like to read, and that first night I was with Jackson… um, you had trouble with your car.” Referring to the night Jax sucked him off at a glory hole made him feel all kinds of embarrassed but incredibly grateful for… the possibilities. “So I’ll go with you never exchanged sex as the lie.”
Jackson shook his head. “Nope, you’re wrong. But Corey, I didn’t know you hated War and Peace that much.”
Corey shrugged. “Hey, I got to 1812, where Napoleon invades Russia… and then I couldn’t. Do Pierre and Natasha ever get together?”
“Yeah.” Jax nodded.
The horror of Corey’s truth bounced around, but neither of them saw what Corey’d had to do to live as a nightmare. “Wait, when were you forced into selling yourself for a place to sleep?”
“After I left home. I wasn’t forced, per se… I simply wasn’t prepared for life on the streets. No money, no job, and no way to get either. Going home with guys who didn’t mind letting me stay over and use their shower was—”
“Survival.” Keith schooled his face and voice. He died a little, imagining the danger Corey had put himself in… on so many levels.
Corey batted at Jax’s hand, which stood between him and his drink. He glared over the rim of the glass as he swallowed his third mojito. “Both of you can shove it. This is the first time I’ve been relaxed in… well, a long time.”
Jax smirked. “You just tell me where to shove it and I’ll be glad to…. My turn.”
“Go for it.” Keith forced himself away from his unreasonable guilt for not protecting Corey.
“Sky is blue, water is wet, and I’ve got an eight-inch dick.”
Corey snorted. “Asshole, your cock is eight and a half, and it’s dusk outside.”
“Did you measure it?” Keith wondered out loud.
“Of course. I like to know what I’m working with. How strong did you make these, Jackson?” Corey set the glass down, all the while giving the drink a suspicious look.
“Baby, same recipe as usual, but you had three,” Jax pointed out.
Corey widened his eyes and then giggled. The sparkling bubbles of happiness made Keith feel like everything could be all right.
“Your turn, Keith.” Jax smiled at him, letting loose all the butterflies gathering in his stomach, which started to chase away all Keith’s worries.
Okay, he’d go with honesty. “I’ve always loved the idea of threesomes. I never drink.” He finished his beer.
Jax chuckled at him. “I don’t think you get how this is played.”
“Shhh, Jackson. Of course he does. It’s his game. What’s number three, Demon?” Corey leaned unsteadily toward Keith.
“Oh, I have head of household fantasies.” Sue him, but how else could he get that information to Corey?
As expected, excitement flashed across Corey’s face. “What? Do you? No, you don’t. You do?”
Jax glanced between them. “Head of household like on your taxes?”
Corey giggled again and then fell back on the sofa laughing hard.
Jax stared at Corey for a moment, then turned his attention to Keith. “I don’t get it.”
“Imagine someone holding someone accountable like a Dom but in more domestic situations. Usually there’s three Ds along with S and H sometimes—”
“What now?” Jax squinted and cocked his head to the right.
Corey sat upright, laughter gone. “The three Ds are what’s not tolerated: dishonesty, disobedience, and disrespect. Safety and health, S and H, need to be—”
“You want that.” Jax wasn’t asking. Keith watched as pieces of a puzzle someone had worked on for years finally fall into place. Jax got it.
“I’m getting another drink.” Corey rolled his eyes and then tried to sweep into the kitchen in grand fashion but stumbled. He caught himself on the table and wobbled. “I’m good.”
Jax sputtered and then stared openmouthed at Keith.
“I’ve got this.” Keith tapped him on the shoulder. He grabbed the mojito pitcher, then stalked after Corey.
Corey leaned against the closed refrigerator with his head resting against the door.
Keith grabbed a glass, then stepped behind him. He used the ice-and-water dispenser next to Corey. “Here, Corey. Drink this.”
“I don’t—” He peeked over his shoulder, took the glass, and muttered, “Thank you.”
Bizarre satisfaction at watching Corey drink simply because Keith told him to skated through Keith’s entire being, along with a rightness about being able to take care of Corey at this basic level.
“You’ve had a lot to drink in a short amount of time. I want you to drink some more water.” Then he’d make a much weaker version of the mojitos Jax had made for Corey.
“Yes, Keith.” Corey fluttered his eyelashes, handed him the empty glass, and returned to Jax’s side. His acquiescence lit Keith on fire.
Keith made another pitcher of mojitos—almost virgin—and then followed him, handed Corey the refilled glass, and sat on the sofa.
“You talked Corey into drinking water?” Jax made him sound like a wizard.
Giving him a “we’ll talk later” look, Keith simply shrugged and set the new batch of mojitos on the table.
When Jax turned his attention to Corey, Corey drank the water like he’d just left the Sahara.
“Whose turn is it?” Keith asked.
“I’ll go. I love when Corey cooks.”
“You cook?” he asked Corey.
“No.” Corey shook his head in vehement denial.
“You told me you love cooking for your mate,” Jackson stated with pride.
“Be that as it may, I don’t think you get how this is played.” Corey tsked and drank his water. “My turn. I love liquid lap dance panties, and—”
Jax snorted. “No, you don’t. You didn’t come during the lap dance.”
“That’s ’cause it wasn’t you… or my other mate dancing.”
“What?” Keith was lost.
Both Jackson and Corey stared at him.
“I don’t know what liquid lap dance panties are.” Why that admission embarrassed him, he hadn’t a clue.
Corey stared at him with his big beautiful eyes.
Jax answered him. “I didn’t either until a few months ago. Imagine plastic underwear anatomically correct. You put your dick in the tube—”
“Make sure you add the lube… lots of it. They say it feels better than sex. Maybe this is true if you’ve never had sex before or it’s been a really long time, but….” Corey was clearly not a fan.
“It’s also good for preventing the transmission of fluids.”
Wait, that went against their basic goal. “But as a zombie you—”
Jax nodded. “Exactly. You just take over the disposal or—”
“Oh,” he said, failing to keep the mild disgust out of his voice, imagining Corey and Jax licking out come from used rubber items.
Corey glared. “Easy to judge until you have to keep sucking to find the person who completes you.”
“Thank God we’ve found our third mate.” Jackson exhaled a sound of relief.
Corey rolled his eyes and then crossed his arms.
Jax shook his head. “No, imagine for a moment Keith’s dead.”
“No! What is wrong with you?” Corey covered his ears and shook his head.
“Do it,” Jackson dared.
Tears streamed down Corey’s face, and he doubled over in a ball. “Everything hurts. Why did you do this to me, Jackson?”
Jackson unfolded Corey and hugged him. “Perspective. You’ve got forever to find a way to forgive him.”
Corey wiped a hand over his face. “What if I’m so mad I don’t want to blow him… ever?”
The words made Keith’s heart hurt, but what if….
“We’ll find a way,” Jackson reassured him.
Corey huffed out a breath. “Zombies are supposed to blow… not just swallow.”
Jax hugged him. “I know you. At some point you’ll forgive him, and until then, there are ways to find compromise and workable solutions.”
Corey’s whole body sagged and he shook his head. “What if I don’t—”
Jax asked, “Shall we do another perspective exercise?”
“No!” Corey was clear on that.
Maybe Keith should take heart, but not wanting someone dead and wanting them as your mate were two different things. “Perhaps this game wasn’t a good game.”
“Truth or dare?” Jax asked.
“I think I’ve had enough for one night.” Corey slipped out of the room and shut the bedroom door.
12
Head of Household
Imagine Keith dead.
Standing over his mate’s coffin. Jackson wrapping an arm around him to stop him from jumping into Keith’s casket. Shit! He turned over, and the digital clock’s red numbers taunted him with 4:21 a.m.
I’m like one of those stupid young surfers just waiting for perfection instead of enjoying what I’ve been given. Keith is smart, gorgeous, and too fucking sweet. I’m fighting the inevitable, but how do I stop struggling against what I want? Fighting sucks. I want to forgive Keith. I know he’s really sorry, but… I want him to claim me… to fight for me and Jackson. I need to believe I’m enough.
Jackson rolled back into Keith and sighed—he even smiled in his sleep. He’d never done that before. He seemed calmer and much happier with Keith around. They’d bonded even without the official exchange. It was like pressure had been taken off him and Jackson was more like the kid Corey remembered in high school.
How can I be good enough for Jackson… or Keith?
The clock continued to mock him—4:45, then 5:05 a.m. His therapist’s words chased him out of bed: “No one can make you feel like you are enough. You can give that gift to yourself, and you, you need to do that before you can fully give yourself to another.”
He needed to get the fuck out of here. Slipping out of bed an hour early allowed him to leave alone. But instead of going to the pier, he headed toward the little town, which consisted of three blocks of restaurants and souvenir shops.
The restaurants weren’t open yet, but there was a bakery with tables on a side street. When they opened at six o’clock, he grabbed a coffee and a turkey-and-cheese turnover… and a brownie. He sipped the coffee and contemplated the sugar headache he was going to give himself by eating the baked goods.
Fuck it. He took a bite of the turnover—unexpectedly delicious.
What’s happening in the Twittersphere? He checked all his pockets. Fuck! He’d left so quickly, he didn’t grab his phone.
No escaping his thoughts. How could he believe he was enough to satisfy not one but two men?
He used to think zombies who didn’t immediately do the exchange must have banged their heads hard. But here he was with an unclaimed mate.
Did Jackson and Keith even miss him? Yeah, like they would miss a boil.
He should suck it up and do the exchange so Jackson could have his mate.
Four coffees later, he headed home. Home… home was where his mate—mates were. He’d come full circle. Did Keith even really want him? Could he handle him? Last night, it sounded like maybe he could. Jackson deserved the happiness of both his mates… and maybe he did too. Perhaps
he would be enough for both Jackson and Keith simply by being himself. He needed to have faith in the path he was on, the journey he was given, and the mates who wanted to be at his side.
Corey opened the door.
“This is the second time you’ve done this.” Jackson stopped midpace and glared at Corey.
Keith folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his gaze at him. “Worrying your mates is unacceptable.”
“Mate, you mean.” Fuck being enough, Corey couldn’t help the snark in his voice when he was being attacked.
“No, I mean mates.”
Hmmm, maybe Keith does want me. Corey had always been compelled to push and nudge at boundaries and people. “Ha—so, mate, what are you going to do about it?”
Jackson widened his eyes at Keith. They were speaking in their silent football-bro code that Corey didn’t have a decoder ring to decipher.
Corey wasn’t scared. The look on Keith’s face made him… hopeful. “You think you can handle being my mate? Let’s see it.”
“I know you’re upset, but I’m exhausted by you being irresponsible.” Jackson frowned.
Not liking Jackson’s expression, Corey shoved his hands into his shorts pockets and ducked his head. “What do you want me to say?”
’Cause right now he’d say anything, do anything, not to feel so terrible. Jackson worried about him, and Corey continued to be careless. From Keith’s look, he wasn’t unaffected either.
“You’ve been immature and petty, haven’t you?” Keith’s words were stern and measured.
He wasn’t wrong. Corey nodded… and waited.
Would he finally get what he’d always craved? Could Keith take him in hand and call him on his bullshit? He needed to be held accountable. Corey wanted to be a good person, but sometimes nastiness crept over him, morphing into some selfish, terrible creature he didn’t want to be. Would Keith be able to help him become worthy of his mates… and enough?
