Reluctantly You (Our Exception Book 3)

Mitch

The world is a hue of hazy grays and blues, uncertainty flooding my system. Nerves are flashes of black and white and I’m blinking in and out of cold sweats and hot flashes.

The only thing I can do is drink the nerves away.

It doesn’t help. Just makes me more afraid.

What if this is it? What if there’s no coming back from what I’m about to say? What if I lose them too?

I gulp down another beer and stagger to the kitchen, my nerves more than the alcohol making me unsteady. Gideon is on his way over. I’d caved an hour before I left work, panicking that I hadn’t planned dinner, that I had nothing to offer them.

Maybe food would keep them around.

Maybe they’d stay for that at least.

“I’ll take care of it. Just go home and relax,” he’d told me, his hand cupping my neck.

I nodded, swallowing roughly, and drove myself home.

I was planning on relaxing, on taking it easy. But I’ve worked myself into a state.

Fuck, I’m unwell.

“You’re going to be fine,” Gideon says when he opens my front door and takes a look at me. Little Pants squirms in my arms to get to him. “How much have you had to drink?”

“A few hundred bottles of beer.”

He shakes his head and sets the food down on the counter.

“But it’s mostly nerves.”

“Hm, well drink some water and I’ll take care of the rest. They’ll be here soon.”

My eyes swivel down his strong body, and I feel myself growing warm. Not from anxiety, but from him. He makes me fucking sweat.

I lean toward him and press my hands against his chest, wanting to shove him away, out of my life, to save him from this mess, but I only end up bringing him closer to me. So fucking close.

“You gonna kiss me, Mitchell?” he asks, and I grunt, pressing my forehead to his.

“Yeah. Fuck off.”

“Mm,” he hums and then his lips graze against mine, a tease, a promise. He pulls away far too quickly and shoves a water bottle in my hand. “Drink. This. Now.”

I do as he says, Little Pants no longer in my arms but on his shoulder, meowing loudly at him as he talks back to her.

I don’t even know what he’s saying, but it’s making my heart stutter and clench.

Damn him.

I move toward the couch, swigging the water as quickly as I can and end up getting brain freeze. Fucking fuck.

I press at my forehead just as the doorbell rings.

Stumbling toward it, my hands trembling, I wrench the door open and see Max and Beau there, Doggo in tow.

“Hey,” they say in tandem, Beau’s lips turned up in a grin, Max’s slightly more stiff. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want me.

My spirits spin and sink, swirling down the metaphorical drain that is my life.

“Is that the cat I hear?” Max asks, his face softening, and I nod, swallowing so loudly that they both turn to stare at me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s Little Pants.” I move to let them step inside. They turn the corner and see Gideon in the kitchen, setting out the food on the island, Little Pants still meowing loudly in his ear.

“Who’s this?” Max asks, his brows drawn together.

I don’t know what to say, have no clue how to even explain what this is. I never did decide what to say. I just stand there and swallow and swallow some more. It’s like I’m sucking dick.

Oh god, they’re gonna know I like cock.

“I’m his boss, and friend,” Gideon answers as he comes up behind me and presses a hand to my shoulder.

I stiffen when Max’s gaze slams into where Gideon’s touching me. They can’t know this too. They can’t fucking know. I shift away and his hand falls to his side.

“Oh, Gideon Masters. The one who bought dad’s company?” Max asks.

“Yeah.”

He cocks his head, and the urge to spill it all rumbles up within me. But before I can blurt out the truth, a rap on the door has me colliding with it. Matt and Coop. They’re here, their hands linked, Matt leaning tenderly into Coop’s body.

Fuck, he looks so damn happy.

Why can’t I be this happy?

You can. You can if you let yourself.

That inner voice is starting to sound disturbingly like Gideon’s.

I usher them in, Gideon making his own introduction because I can’t form words. The only thing in my throat is the truth.

I have to tell them the truth.

“Dad’s not my dad!” I shout and almost fall over from the weight that is lifted off my shoulders.

Matt and Max turn toward me, their eyebrows rising as if unsure they heard correctly. Maybe I didn’t say it clearly enough. Maybe I only said it in my head.

I don’t know what reality is anymore.

“What?” Max finally asks, and I shove my hand through my hair, feeling my eyes and nose sting. Fuck, don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry.

“He’s not my dad.”

“What the hell?” Matt asks.

“It’s the truth. He’s not my dad. Your dad, I mean. Not biological for me. We’re half-brothers.”

It’s a jumble of words and nonsense, and I don’t even know if I’m making any sense, but of course Gideon steps in, like he always does.

He always makes things better.

I fucking hate it.

“Like Mitchell said, your father is not his biological father. He found out through some genetic testing. It’s apparently why his father sold the company to me and Mitchell didn’t inherit it.”

Max and Matt’s mouths open and close in confusion.

“What the fuck?” Matt says.

“Dinner?” I squeak just as Doggo rounds the corner with Little Pants on his back.

Jesus, how did she get up there?

“No, I don’t want fucking dinner, Mitch. I want to know everything. Are you okay?” Max asks, and I hear my throat click. “God, I thought you invited us over here to tell us you had cancer or something.”

No, not cancer, just a dad that’s not my dad… God, I’m not okay. I haven’t been for ages, but how the hell do I say that?

I don’t know how to say that.

“I…I…”

“It’s okay to not be okay,” Beau says, and I swipe at my eyes.

“Yeah. I’m not okay. He’s been an asshole.”

“Always has been,” Matt replies and then he pulls me into a hug. “Dinner can wait. Can we go outside and chat for a bit? I think we need to hash this out.”

I nod and catch Gideon’s gaze. He nods at me, and I feel my chest swell with pride. I did it. I told them and they didn’t immediately leave.

They want to stay.

They think I’m worth it.

“I’ll bring the food outside. Drinks anyone?” Gideon asks, and everyone nods, Beau and Coop offering to help him bring everything to us. To give us time to talk, to process. Together.

They didn’t fucking leave.

“So, how did you find out? Testing?” Max asks when we finally settle in the chairs out back.

“Genetic testing. Those ancestry things. Curiosity got the better of me. Always kinda knew, maybe subconsciously, that I was different than you three.”

“Shit, I had no idea,” Max replies, and I shrug.

“I mean, I’ve always looked different than you too. Bigger, different in a lot of ways.”

“Not that different. No more so than Magnus,” Matt replies and then shakes his head. “And Mom knew?”

“Yeah, she knew. She tried talking to me about it recently, but I don’t want to speak to her. I mean, I tried to talk to the two of them when I found out, I sent them the results, but neither of them wanted anything to do with me. They shut me out. And then all of a sudden she showed up at my work, made a scene… Yeah, not yet… I’m not ready yet. I’m too pissed.”

“I would be too,” Max replies. “I can’t believe her.”

“Me neither,” I say, sadness seeping from my words. She was never the best mother, but she is my mom. And I miss her.

In an odd way, I want her back in my life.

“And dad…our dad?” Matt asks, running a hand across his mouth as if he can’t believe he said those words.

“I tried speaking with him, left him a few messages, but nothing. He wants nothing to do with me.”

“Asshole. Well, fuck him,” Max says, and Matt nods.

“Yeah, good riddance. He’s a shithead anyways. I haven’t spoken to him in forever.”

“Same,” Max agrees.

“Does Magnus know?” Matt asks a moment later.

“Yeah. He’s the first one I told.” When I see their confused looks, I shrug. “He already hates me. I didn’t…I figured, if he knew, it wouldn’t change anything. But with you two…fuck, I didn’t want to give you another reason to leave.”

Their eyes slam into each other’s, and I stiffen in my seat.

“We aren’t leaving you, Mitch. You’re our brother.”

“Half-brother.”

“Brother,” they say in unison.

I glance away and press my palms into my eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

“I know that we…well, we haven’t been around much…”

“You don’t need to explain. I get it. I get why. But I’m trying to be better. I’m seeing a therapist and shit…”

“Yeah?” Max asks, and I nod, feeling like a pussy for admitting this, but doing it anyways. They should know that I’m trying. Someone should fucking know.

“Yeah, a few times a week. Have a lot of shit to sort out.”

“I’m glad you are. Coop thinks I should get into therapy as well.”

“Yeah, me too,” Max says and then huffs a laugh. “Seems we’re all fucked.”

“And yet we still have someone who loves us,” Matt says, making my throat click. They do. They have someone, someone who loves them, but not me. He must realize what he’s said because he apologizes profusely after. “Shit. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that…I just, fuck. I meant we’re just lucky.”

“Probably time to stop while you’re ahead,” Coop chimes in as he walks outside, Beau and Gideon in tow.

“Where’s Doggo?” Max asks, craning his neck to look for him.

“Inside with Little Pants. She’s riding him around still.”

“That little shit,” I murmur as Gideon glances at me, worry in his gaze. Little Pants is forgotten, my eyes locked on him instead.

Well, my brothers may have found someone to love them, but I at least have someone who wants to fuck me. And is slightly worried over me.

That has to count for something, right?

“They don’t hate me,” I whisper to him, and he nods, handing me a plate, not that I can eat. I’m nauseous and still slightly buzzed from earlier.

“We don’t hate you. Of course we don’t. Just pissed at Mom,” Matt reiterates, my whisper not as quiet as I wanted it to be. “And Dad for being a cunt.”

Max chuckles and nods along. “Yeah. Cunt is a nice word for both of them.”

“It is,” Gideon says and then takes a bite of his food. I watch his mouth move, watch the way he swallows, and get inappropriately turned on by it.

It’s the wrong time and absolutely the wrong place, but fuck, I’m all mixed up. I should still be anxious, but my brothers’ reassurance has helped mitigate some of that underlying fear. And now I’m just…horny.

For him.

Fuck, get your mind out of the gutter.I don’t need to be thinking about this right now. I should be thinking about my brothers, about how we move forward, past all of this.

“So what do we do now?” I manage to ask, and they all turn to look at me.

“We confront them,” Matt says, and Max bobs his head.

“We do it as a united front. With Magnus too. Maybe bring Sem along, really scare Dad.”

I snort and then run a hand across my jaw.

“We’ll plan it. We’ll have a come-to-Jesus meeting with them both,” Max says just as Matt asks, “Do you know who your bio dad is?”

I nod my head and then shake it. “I mean, no. I don’t. I can find out though. The PI I hired knows who it is. I just need to ask for the information.”

“Do you want to meet him?” Max asks, and I shrug.

“I dunno.”

“Well, if you decide to do it, we can be there. With you. Always with you.”

I blink rapidly and nod, feeling Gideon’s hand land on my thigh.

Everyone stares at it, the place where our bodies connect, but this time I don’t pull away. I just let him ground me.

“So, how about we tell Mitch the news?” Beau says, and all eyes move from me to him. I like him more than I thought I would.

Max picked a good one.

“What news?” Matt asks, and Max rolls his eyes.

“Beau and I are going to adopt…another dog.”

My eyebrows rise and Matt punches him in the shoulder. “Fuck off. I thought I was gonna be an uncle.”

“You are an uncle.”

He beams and rubs at his chest. “I am. We all are.” He turns his gaze toward me and smiles softly. “Magnus’s kids are so fucking cute. You’re gonna love them.”

I shift in my seat, Gideon’s fingers pressing into the muscle of my thigh, and I roll my lips between my teeth. “Don’t know if he’ll let me meet them.”

“He will. He wants his family back,” Max says, and I shake my head.

“Don’t say that when you don’t know if it’s true. He may want you back, but not me. I was always the worst to him. I’m not redeemable.”

“Mitch…” Max begins, but I stop him with a wave of my hand.

“It’s fine. I’m…” I set my plate aside and scrub my hands down my face. “I was awful to him…despite being just like him.”

They freeze and blink at me.

“What do you mean?” Matt asks.

I peer over at Gideon and wet my lips.

“I’m just like him,” I repeat, Gideon’s hand tightening on my leg, and I let out a shaky breath. “Doesn’t matter anyway, just…I’m a hypocrite.”

“We all are,” Max says finally and nudges me with his foot. “I’m sorry you went through that all alone. It’s a shock, isn’t it?”

“Well…I’ve always been like this.”

“No shit,” Matt whispers, and Coop covers Matt’s mouth with his hand.

“Sorry about him. He’s just…lost his mind.”

I swallow and glance away. “It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. None of this was fucking fine. The last few months have been hell. I was left alone, they abandoned me. Or maybe I pushed them away. Doesn’t fucking matter, the outcome was the same.

The only one I had was Gideon.

He was with me through the darkest parts.

And yet, even still, I can’t blame him.

“So, are you two really just…friends? Even though he’s your boss?” Matt asks, and Coop nudges him.

“Matthew, honestly. Do I need to tape your mouth shut?”

Gideon’s hand leaves my thigh, and I feel the absence of it palpably.

“Yes. We’re just friends.”

Gideon’s words echo in my head and I feel my stomach churn. Is that what we are to one another? He sucks my cock, eats my ass, makes me beg. I’d say we’re a little more than friends.

“Fuck off,” I murmur, and Gideon’s lips twitch, a small smirk forming on his lips. But nothing more is said about it. Nothing at all. We just move on to other topics of conversation, Matt’s job, Coop’s plans to travel to Canada with Matt and collect fucking seashells, Max and Beau’s attempt at growing vegetables in the garden with a chaotic dog.

And Gideon even shows them my art.

When he did that, I wanted to sink into the floor and disappear forever.

By the time they leave, Gideon’s words have spun a toxic web in my mind and I’m left fuming. Little Pants must sense it because she’s up in her cat tree, clawing at the fabric like crazy. Either that or she’s pissed her new friend, Doggo, has left.

“Why are you frowning so much?” Gideon asks as he helps me clean up the kitchen. Food is stored in the fridge and empty drinks are placed in the recycling bin. And all I can think of is that he said we were friends.

Emery and I might be friends. The guys I occasionally play sports with could be called friends.

Gideon and I are not.

“I’m not frowning,” I reply as I crush a can in my hand and toss it toward the bin. It misses and lands on the ground with a clatter.

“You’re a grump. You’ve been stewing ever since you told your brothers you liked cock.”

I huff and shove at him, making him stumble to the side slightly.

He squares his shoulders and clenches his jaw.

“It’s true. You love cock, Mitchell. You love my cock. There’s nothing to be upset about.”

“I’m not fucking upset by that.”

“Then what is it?”

I can’t say it, can’t admit it. “Nothing.”

“Tell me,” he says, his hand grabbing on to my neck, rough and yet gentle, holding me in place, forcing me to face the truth. “Tell me the fucking reason you’ve been pissed all evening.”

I swallow, my Adam’s apple bobbing against his palm. My cock is twitching in my pants, wanting to be touched, to be satisfied.

I want more. I want it all.

I already came out, in my own way. I admitted it out loud.

And now I want to fuck. I want him to shove his cock so far up my ass I lose the ability to breathe.

“We’re not just friends,” I grit out.

His hand gentles around my neck and his thumb smooths across my pulse.

“Hm, we aren’t just friends. You’re right. You’re more than that to me. You’re my little slut.”

My cheeks stain, a dark red bleeding down my neck.

“My. Little. Slut.”

I let out a shaky breath and then whimper when his other hand drags down my stomach and cups my cock.

“Is that what you are?”

I can’t help but nod. God, I’m pathetic.

“You did so good tonight. You were so brave. Such a good boy. What do you want? As your reward?”

I wet my lips and whimper, my hole clenching around nothing. God, it’s so empty.

“Want to sit on my face, want to choke on my dick? Tell me, Mitchell.”

I step closer to him, his hand sliding around the back of my neck, his fingers threading through my hair. My own hands clutch onto his hips for dear fucking life.

“Or do you want me to choose for you?” he asks, and I feel those words, the ones I want to say, fade from my lips.

I can’t admit it.

Can I?

He kisses me roughly, his tongue sliding against mine as he drags the heel of his palm against my cock, making me groan in anticipation.

“There’s so much I want to do to you,” he says lowly. “So much I want to show you. But I don’t think you’re ready.”

I let out a huff and push away from him, needing some space. He intoxicates me, makes me drown in lust. I can’t fucking think when he’s near. It’s always been like this.

Fuck him for making me this way.

“Tell me what you’d do to me,” I rasp as I grab on to my dick and try to keep my wits about me.

Do not admit it. Don’t fucking admit it.

He wets his lips and eyes me, something dark glinting there.

“So many fucking things. I’d bend you over, right here, and slide my cock right into that ass. I’d make you scream.”

I feel my cock jerk in my hand and I glance away, trying to regulate my breathing.

“And then when you’ve come, I’d spin you around, push your knees up to your chest and watch my dick fuck that virgin hole.”

I feel my balls draw up close to my body. Oh god, don’t come. Not now. Not like this.

“I want to watch my cock slide in and out of you. I want to watch that big body under mine—needy, sweaty, panting. I want all of you, Mitchell. I want all of it.”

“Take it then,” I say, my voice a rasp, a plea.

“Mm… You’ve been drinking, you just had an emotional moment with your brothers. Now is not the time.”

The words slap against my face and I wince, before anger surges up inside of me.

“Fuck you. It’s been hours. I’m not drunk or buzzed,” I murmur as I move toward him, pushing into his chest and causing the cabinets to rattle behind him as he slams into them.

He chuckles and grabs on to my wrists, holding me steady, but I kick at his feet and pry myself away.

“You don’t get to tell me what I want or when I want it,” I grunt as he reaches for me, maneuvering my head between his forearm and elbow, my body bent at the waist as he clutches his arm tighter. I reach out and grab at his cock, feeling the hard length between my hand and squeeze.

Fuck him, I think as I wrench the zipper down and palm the warm heat of it.

I want it.

I fucking want it.

He smacks my ass, roughly, the sting of it bursting through me. “I should bend you over and spank you for this,” he says as his palm connects with my ass again. And again.

A groan moves through me, my ass pushing back, wanting more.

“God, I’d love to see those red cheeks blush as I slide into that tight hole.”

“Do it,” I say, and he chuckles lowly tugging my pants down my hips, exposing my ass to him. I don’t know how he managed to do that one-handed, but he did. He’s a fucking talent.

His hand leaves my ass for a moment and I hear him sucking on his fingers before those wet fingertips trail down my crack and press against my hole. The groan that leaves me at the feel of him pushing inside me makes me stroke his dick harder.

I want to wrestle him to the ground, slot his dick at my hole and sink down on it.

Shit, I should. I already admitted I was gay to my brothers, laid it all out there, and now I don’t want to stop this forward momentum.

For so long I denied myself, told myself I couldn’t have it.

And now I want it all.

Gideon’s fingers are pushing in and out of me in quick bursts, making me grunt as I try to wrestle myself free. But he’s stronger than me, more savvy, so I use his own dick against him.

I turn my face and lap at his cockhead, making his grip loosen slightly in surprise. It’s his slackened grip on me that allows me to move, his fingers falling from my ass as I rush to my bedroom, locking myself in my bathroom, stripping myself bare and lubing myself up. If he won’t give it to me, I’ll fucking take it.

“I’m gonna take it,” I mutter to myself as I shove two fingers into myself, arching back at the sensation. Oh fuck, this is gonna be so damn good. “Take it.”

“Open up the door, Mitchell,” Gideon growls from the other side of the door, interrupting me.

“Fuck off,” I murmur, hearing the rustle of his clothes as they fall to the floor.

He’s undressing. It’ll make it easier to get what I want. I know he thinks that this is too fast, that I’m not ready. But I’ve been ready for years, denying what I want, repressing it all.

So if I want it now, I fucking want it now.

I work three fingers into me, hearing the squelch of the lube as I open myself up for him.

When I finally open the bathroom door, Gideon is waiting completely naked near the bed, his hand on his hard cock, his eyes narrowed on me as I step closer to him, a trickle of lube slipping from my slackened hole.

“What were you doing in there?” he asks, and I purse my lips, coming to a stop before him and taking him in. Fuck. He’s so goddamn hot. My palms rest on his chest and he lets out a long exhale.

“Mitchell—” His words cut off as I shove at him, surprising him at the unexpected movement.

He falls onto the bed and I scramble after him, his hands clutching on to my biceps, his legs bending beneath us, but he doesn’t have time to overtake me because I’m crashing my lips down to his and biting roughly on his bottom lip, making him grunt in surprise.

“Mitchell,” he murmurs, but I just grab on to his dick and press it against my lubed hole. I don’t even hesitate, knowing he could stop me in seconds. He’s so much stronger than me, so much more capable.

So I just sit on him, the tip of him sliding into me. The sting makes my breath falter and my fingers curl against his chest, my eyelids fluttering shut.

“Oh fuck,” I groan as I let my ass adjust to the size of him before I take a few more inches.

“Mitchell. What the fuck are you doing?” he grinds out, his eyes boring into me. But I just shut him out, closing my eyes entirely and sinking down on him the rest of the way. He doesn’t stop me, just tightens his fingers on my hips, his nails digging into my skin. I’m going to have bruises there tomorrow. I’m going to look at myself in the mirror and remember this.

“Taking what I want,” I finally reply, my hips canting back and forth, letting his cock stretch me in the most delicious way.

Oh god, I knew I’d be a total cockslut. I knew as soon as I had a dick in my ass I’d be a whore for it. And I haven’t even started moving yet. I’m just sitting on him, cockwarming him.

“And what you want is this?” he asks, and I nod, swallowing and then arching my hips up and letting his dick drag along my hole until just the tip is inside of me. My eyelids flutter open and I see him beneath me, his cheeks red, his lips parted. I slam down, his cock impaling me as I start to ride him, my dick slapping against my stomach as I move. This is a frantic fucking, a desperate desire, a need only he can fulfill.

But even as I ride him, it’s not enough. It’s not fucking enough. Frustration blooms in me, a dark shade of purple. I don’t know what I need, but this isn’t it.

Oh god. Oh fuck.

“I need…” My head tilts back, and I groan. “I need…”

“You need more,” he growls. “Want me to give it to you?” he asks, his hand snaking around my dick and pumping it.

“Please. Please.”

He bends his knees, and in one swift movement, flips us over, his dick sliding from me and in that moment, I feel bereft.

“Gideon,” I moan as he leans over me, his hair hanging over his forehead, his pupils blown out.

“You tried to take what only I can give you, Mitchell. Now say you’re sorry.”

A low groan escapes me when he leans down and bites my neck, sucking on it almost painfully.

“Say you’re fucking sorry and I’ll fuck that needy, wet hole.”

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry,” I whisper, and he smirks at me, pushing my knees into my chest and staring down at my hole.

“So damn pretty,” he says, his finger swirling around it. It clenches around his touch before he pulls away, and his shoulders move under my calves, spreading me so wide it’s almost painful.

“Good. Boy.”

I feel the press of his cockhead against me and as soon as our eyes meet, he slams home, his hips hitting my ass.

He holds himself inside of me and his free hand clasps my chin, forcing me to look at him.

“You keep your eyes on me the entire time. You watch me until you come.”

I swallow and nod.

“Good slut,” he says and then starts to move, a frantic, brutal pace that makes my back arch off the bed, my fingers scrambling for purchase. I peel off the corner of the bedsheets as the headboard rams into the wall, making a racket. Not that I’m much quieter—I’m grunting, groaning, and pleading.

“You like this?” he hisses above me, our skin slapping together, a bead of sweat moving down his temple. “You like your needy little hole stretched by my cock?”

“Yes,” I moan, and his nostrils flare.

“My greedy little cockslut. Such a pretty little whore.”

I arch my back as he switches angles, my ankles near my ears, and his cock hits my prostate over and over, making my eyes nearly cross with the pain and pleasure surging through me. I shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t want it, but I do.

I want it forever. Never want him to stop.

“Don’t stop.”

“I won’t. I won’t fucking stop. Just look at your pretty cock,” he says when he sits up on his knees and pulls my ass against him over and over. “Touch it, Mitchell. Your tight ass is gonna make me come soon.”

I reach out and my fingers tighten around my length, stroking it in time with each of his forward thrusts.

“So hot. So fucking perfect,” he grunts as he slams into me repeatedly, our bodies a tightly wound object, water crashing against the shore. A tidal wave of lust peaks inside of me and my release cascades across my chest, my hole clenching around his dick, his movements faltering as he unloads inside of me.

I can feel the warmth of him, the way he fills me to overflowing, and for the first time in my life, I feel like myself.

I feel whole.

My body goes limp as he slumps over me, his hair a tangled mess, sweat beading on his skin.

“Shit,” he murmurs and then kisses my mouth softly. “You okay?”

I swallow and nod, my eyelids growing heavy. I need a long nap.

He slowly pulls out of me, and I feel his release trickle out. But then his finger pushes it back inside, keeping a part of him inside of me.

I love it.

“Your hole looks wrecked,” he says, his voice breaking with lust. “Looks so fucking swollen, pink. So fucking perfect.”

I grunt and throw an arm over my eyes, wanting so badly to go to sleep. But still, my legs spread wider for him as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out of me, feeling his release and the lube inside of me mix tantalizingly.

“You’re a possessive asshole,” I say, and he grins at me.

“Just for you,” he says as he presses against my prostate and makes me gasp. “Think you have another one in there?”

I groan and shake my head. “Too sore.”

He slowly pulls his fingers from me and falls to my side, his hand smearing my release into my skin.

“Next time. You’ll come twice. I want to see you completely wrecked.”

Oh god. If this isn’t completely wrecked then I don’t know what is.

“We really should have talked before we fucked.”

“Don’t like to talk,” I murmur. “Don’t like being told what to do.”

“Hm, I know, but Mitchell, we still should have discussed this.”

“Discussed what?”

“Like if you have negative test results.”

I scoff. “I fucking do. Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Then what’s to talk about?”

I peer over at him and he brings a cum-soaked finger to my lips.

“Suck.”

My lips curl around his finger and I do as I’m told, his leg wrapping around mine, his half-hard cock against my thigh.

“Let’s take a bath.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“You will once you realize how sore you are. You’ll fucking thank me.”

I roll my eyes and he leans down and kisses me, long and drawn out until my dick is hard once more.

He notices too and bribes me into the bath by the promise of another orgasm.

“Fine,” I say as he helps me stand. My legs wobble and an ache settles between my ass cheeks as he guides me to the bathroom. Oh fuck, I am sore. I’m going to feel this for days to come.

For some reason, I like that more than I thought possible.

I can’t stop thinking about it, his cock inside me, stretching me, making me beg for more.

I want it again but I don’t know how to ask for it.

How the fuck do I ask for something I desperately need and not just take it?

I shift in the jacuzzi at Gideon’s, the jets not on, just a cool blanket of water around us. It’s now Sunday and we haven’t fucked again, not since Friday night.

Shit. I want to fuck again.

God, how did I become this person, this needy cockslut who just wants to be owned?

I don’t know how it happened, but I crave it.

I crave him.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Gideon asks, and I shrug, not knowing what to say.

I don’t fucking know. Don’t ask me to explain.

“You’ve been quiet ever since the other night. Did I hurt you?” His voice is concerned, wary, and I hate it.

“No,” I reply and shift slightly, the sting and soreness completely gone.

I want it back. I want to feel it again.

“Want to go inside? It is growing cooler out.”

I shake my head, not sure I want to go back inside where we’ll just stare at one another. I don’t even know how to bring it up. I asked last time, begged for it, and he turned me down.

I don’t want to do that again.

No, I want him to take it from me. I want him to make me.

“Are you hungry?”

I shake my head and then frantically search my mind for something, anything else to talk about. Anything to distract him from what I really want.

“Uh, I’m thinking about taking an art class.”

His eyebrows rise and his lips curl at the corners. I want to suck on those, want to bite down and taste him.

“Good. You have natural talent. You should really hone in on that.”

“Yeah. I will. I guess.”

“Would have been nice to have this fostered growing up, huh?” he asks, his words measured, his eyes watching me closely.

“Yeah, but seems we have shit luck. Is there anything you’d like to have done growing up, but never got the chance?”

He rolls his lips between his teeth. “Anything normal, I think. Sports, clubs, the arts.”

“Yeah. I get it.”

We stare at one another and my fingers tap against the warm cement outside of the cool spa.

“What was he like, your dad? Like what was he good at?”

“Like I said, he was brilliant. A wizard with numbers.” He pauses and wets his lips. “I don’t blame him for any of it, not really. He did the best he could, and when he couldn’t cope with the losses anymore, he ended it.”

I’m silent and Gideon sighs. “He couldn’t cope with life.”

The way he says that makes me think about myself, about how recently, I too couldn’t cope. I was a wreck, the images of disappearing into the void flashing through my mind.

“You’re not him, Mitchell. You’re a fighter.”

“Maybe.”

“You are,” he says as he spreads his arms across the back of the hot tub. “Come here.”

I swallow and eye him, the wet droplets forming on his skin, the way he glistens in the shadows of the grotto we’re hidden beneath.

“Come here and let me taste you. You’ve been avoiding me all fucking day.”

“Have not.”

“You have.”

He glances at his lap, and I can’t help my legs when they carry me toward him, unable to stay away. I want this, just this.

My legs straddle his thighs and his hands cup my ass, his lips landing on my neck, kissing up to my mouth.

“God, you taste so good.”

“Thought I wasn’t your type.”

“I was so fucking wrong. You’re exactly my type.”

I swallow a moan, but let it escape when his lips land on mine. I want to kiss him like this forever.

As our tongues tangle, one of his hands snakes down my swim trunks and cups my bare ass, massaging it.

“Is this ass ready for more?” he asks deeply as his teeth sink into my lower lip.

“Yes.”

“Is that what you want? Me to fuck you again?”

“Mm. Yes.”

“I want that too. I want you.”

My cock swells in my swim trunks and I grind it against his abdomen, the friction making my eyes close in pleasure. We kiss slowly, the heat outside nothing in comparison to what is brewing between us. It’s sultry, damp, and heady. His finger has slid between my cheeks and is pressing gently against my hole. It clenches around it in anticipation, but he doesn’t enter me.

He just teases me until I’m breathless from it.

“Please,” I whisper as I grind my hips back and forth on his lap.

“Love hearing you beg. Say it again. Say it.”

“Please.”

“You want it?”

“Yes.” God, I want it.

“Get out and go to my bedroom, on the bed, ass up.”

I scramble backward and he follows me, almost stalking me into the house like a predator. We leave puddles on the floor, my skin breaking out in goosebumps from the air conditioning blasting from the vents, but still, I move. My hands fumble with my swimsuit, tugging the wet fabric off of my damp skin until it lies on the floor in a heap.

I stand there for a moment before realizing I’m meant to be on the bed, ass up.

My palms land on the mattress and I crawl forward as he pursues me. My breath comes out in a whoosh as the bed dips behind me and my fists twist into the sheets as the cap of the lube flips open with a crack.

“Want it gentle or rough?”

I push my forehead into the plump sheets. “Rough. Please. Make it hurt.”

He lets out a long exhale as his fingers slide up my crack and press inside me. He doesn’t take it slow, doesn’t work me open, letting me adjust. No, he just shoves two fingers inside, making my back arch up in shock.

“I’m not going to prep like you’re used to. Gonna make it hurt, just like you want.”

I grunt as he twists his wrist and pegs my prostate. But just as soon as sensation pulses through me, it comes to an abrupt stop, my hole suddenly empty. I glance back and see him grabbing on to his bare dick and placing it right there.

And then he’s pushing inside of me, breaching me.

My eyes squeeze shut and I hold my breath as he splits me wide open. I feel his fingertips dig into my hips almost brutally as he pushes his way into me, every goddamn inch until he’s seated all the way.

His hand gently brushes up my spine, cupping my neck gently.

“You ready, baby?”

I nod, a simple dip of my chin before he pulls out and slams back into me.

My mouth opens in a silent scream, my back and hips arching to meet his brutal thrusts. Fuck, he owns me. He always has. Just the way he can overpower me, can make me take it.

I want to take it.

Want him to take me.

“Yes, your perfect little slut hole, so good for me. You’re so good for me,” he praises as he slams into me. “Such a perfect little bottom.”

I grunt as I feel satisfaction soar through my chest, my balls drawn up tight as he continues to fuck into me. It’s toeing the line between pleasure and pain, but still, the feeling of being full, of being owned like this is what I crave. It’s what I’ve always wanted.

His hand presses against my upper back, and I bend lower, my ass now completely offered up to him and he takes it. He plunders it, impaling me on his stiff length over and over until his name leaves my lips as a prayer, a plea.

His name is gospel.

Mine. Mine.

“Come, Mitchell. Come.”

I moan as he reaches around me and shuttles his palm up and down my dick. Without warning, I explode across his comforter with a feral groan. His movements grow stuttered, harsh, a rasp, a grunt, and a few seconds later, he unloads into my ass, filling me up so full that I feel him seeping from the edges, dripping down my thighs.

“Fuck,” he murmurs as he squeezes my ass cheeks in appreciation before slowly pulling out.

I flop to my side and close my eyes, feeling the twinge of pain in my ass as I move. I want him to push his cum back inside of me, but he doesn’t even attempt it. Instead, he kisses my hip and the tip of my spent cock.

“I have something for you,” he finally says and shuffles off the bed, only to return a moment later to spread my legs.

“What—”

“Relax,” he says and a moment later, I feel the press of something cool against my hole.

“Gideon—” I begin, but he just shushes me as something slides inside of me, past the slackened muscle, plugging me entirely.

“Wear this. Keep me inside of you. For as long as you want.”

I peer up at him and I see his eyes staring at my ass, those dark orbs glinting with pleasure, with lust.

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Good boy.”

My chest swells. I am. I’m such a good fucking boy.

And maybe if I can stay this way, he’ll keep me around. Just for a little longer.

I offer him my ass every night after work, after hours, my body bent over his desk, his hips slapping into mine. The way he makes me beg, makes me cum. I’m such a slut for him.

The freak out I was planning on having hasn’t happened yet. Perhaps he’s fucked it right out of me. Perhaps I’ll be okay after all.

“You okay?” Gideon asks me as we stride into the gym.

“Fine,” I say, feeling satisfied, happy. Something I’ve never felt before. I spoke with my therapist about it, not going into too much detail about the actual sex, but came to the conclusion that for the first time in my life, I’m doing what I want. Not what anyone else expects of me.

It’s freeing in a way.

“You sure? I was pretty rough,” he says as his finger curls around mine.

“Yeah. I like it.”

“You do,” he says, his eyes glinting, just as Emery barrels into view.

“Hey, guys!” he shouts as he trips toward us. “Look who I brought with me!”

My eyes swivel and take in a model-worthy man walking next to him—dark blond hair, green eyes, an athletic body.

“This is August,” he says and then sighs. “He found out about my sneaky gym runs after I told him.”

Gideon chuckles and holds out his hand toward August. “Hello, August. I’m Gideon. Emmy and I knew each other years ago.”

“Oh, I told him all about us. He’s been wanting to meet you.”

“He kept forgetting to set something up,” August explains, and then pulls Emery into his side and presses a kiss to his cheek. Emery nearly melts, glancing up at his man with so much affection it hurts my heart.

Will I ever be able to look at someone like that?

Am I even capable of it?

“This is Bitchy Mitchy,” Emery says, and August holds out his hand, his strong grip slipping into mine and squeezing.

“Thank you for helping him with the machines. He told me all about how you’re teaching him how not to die.”

Emery beams at me. “I did so good at not dying.”

“You did,” I reply and then August throws his thumb behind him.

“We’re gonna start with the weights, if you want to join us.”

Gideon and I follow along, my eyes moving from the loving way the two of them are with one another, the subtle touches, loving gazes. What would it be like to have that with Gideon, out in the open?

I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. I think about it for the full hour, and when we finish our workout and it’s time to leave, I try. I stop Gideon in the parking lot, right before the car, several people making their way past us, and I press my hands to his chest, curling my fingers into the fabric of his shirt.

I lean in and press a kiss to his mouth, a light flutter of lips, a taste of tongue before pulling away.

My heart is pounding, my cheeks aflame. He may not understand what it meant to do that, but I do. I fucking know.

“So brave, such a good boy,” he says and then pulls me into him for a deeper kiss, a longer one. One that makes me start to groan, to press into him for the friction building below the waist. But he doesn’t let us continue, just pulls away and presses our foreheads together.

“You just had me an hour ago. Greedy?”

“Yes,” I admit. “I have years to make up for, decades.”

“Hm,” he hums lowly and then unlocks the car. “Well, then we better get home.”

I don’t even hesitate, just walk as calmly as I can to the passenger seat and buckle in.

God, getting home can’t come soon enough.

We’re in the shower, Little Pants perched on the counter watching us intently as Gideon eats my ass. I try not to think about it, think about my cat watching me groan and beg. About how the sounds I’m making are inhuman, how I want him to enter me again, slowly this time, pulling me against his chest with his hand around my neck while he whispers dirty things in my ear.

God, I love it when he does that.

When he calls me his little slut, his cumdump, his whore.

His finger pushes into me and I feel it, lube. The sting of being stretched open with his fingers and tongue only makes my cock leak more.

Fuck, I won’t ever get enough of this, of this man who owns me so simply, so completely.

He stands and turns me around, his lips swollen from overuse.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he says. “I want to watch you get fucked.”

I do as he says, letting him lift me into his arms, the wall providing a nice anchor as his cock slots at my hole. Fuck, he’s so strong. I never in my life thought someone would lift me like this.

He shifts closer and his cock presses into me.

My head falls back, his lips sucking on my Adam’s apple as I swallow down my hoarse cries.

“So sexy, so hot,” he says as he starts to move, a slow canting of his hips that picks up to an almost punishing pace. But I like it like this, rough and hard. Love that I lose my mind, that everything whites out and becomes silent when I come.

All I can see is him.

My eyelids droop as I watch his muscles straining under the weight of me, but he doesn’t stop, just carries on, fucking me with so much force that my teeth clatter.

“Touch yourself. I want to watch you come.”

I reach between us and fuck my fist, my orgasm fast and surprising. I shout his name just as he releases into me.

He doesn’t let me go right away either, just holds me to him, kissing me gently as his cock softens inside of my ass.

When we finally rinse and dry off, we stumble into bed and I tuck my forehead against his arm, not ready to cuddle, but wanting him to be near. Sometime in the night, he’ll wrap his strong body around mine and hold me to him.

I secretly love it, being cradled like that.

Being kept.

But I don’t admit it, not yet. It’s too much. The sex, the feelings. Everything is all muddled up and confusing in my mind.

It swirls within me, so much so that I find myself naked and painting in the living room in the middle of the night, the canvas a swirl of nothing and everything.

I hear his footsteps as he approaches, the quiet purr of Little Pants in his arms as he stops next to me.

“You okay?” he asks, and I nod before shaking my head.

“Think I’m freaking out.”

He nods and sets Little Pants on the table. She pads over to an open cardboard box and slots herself inside.

I turn my gaze back to the man who is responsible for it all.

For upending my life and making me want things I never knew I could have.

“What is it?” he asks, staring at the mess on the canvas.

“Nothing. And everything.”

He nods, not understanding, but not delving deeper.

“Do you want to be left alone?” he asks, his dark eyes meeting mine. I can’t help but stare back, my entire body vibrating with a deep need for this man.

Fuck, fuck him and the way he’s infiltrated my life.

“I’m gay,” I say, my voice cracking slightly. Those two words sit between us heavily and he lets out a slow breath.

“I know.”

“I didn’t know I’d want someone like you, but now…” The words trail off, and I stare back at the canvas. “Maybe we should stop while we’re ahead, before I ruin everything.”

“No.”

It’s one word, but it’s so final. He’s not letting me go.

“We should stop. I don’t know what I want.”

“You want me. It’s as simple as that.”

How can it be though? Nothing is ever simple. Everything is hard and fraught with trials. Just look at my life.

“Do you want me, Mitchell? Or am I wrong about that?”

I shake my head. “You’re not wrong.”

“Good. Then finish up and come to bed.”

I watch him step toward me, his hand curling around the nape of my neck and bringing me in for a soul-crushing kiss.

And then he’s gone, and I feel unsettled and yet at peace.

I don’t know what to do.