“I’ll kill you too. Bury both of you in the same grave if you want. Now spill it.”
“We’ve been back for at least twenty minutes,” Eli blurts out.
“Okay?”
“Shut it, Solnyshko.”
But Eli just ignores him. “We heard you having sex, then saw you push Killian out of the room. You know he fell, right?”
Oh.
Fuck.
Alexei's jaw clenches, and his nostrils flare. “You thought getting railed was a good idea in your condition? Knew you were reckless but didn't realize you were actively suicidal.”
“Who said—”
“The way you sat down and shifted, more than just your ribs hurt.” Alexei waggles his stupid brows and I want to punch his stupid face, but he continues. “Figured you’d be the one fucking him.”
Me too.
Eli pulls away from his boyfriend, then walks over to Alexei’s bag. As he rifles through it, I stare at my roommate, waiting for him to judge me.
“Is it really the ribs or did Blackwell do something he shouldn’t have?”
Well, that’s not what I was expecting. I shake my head. “Everything was consensual.”
Eli comes back and hands me a bottle. I take it and stare at him. “Apricot oil? I know I'm not exactly an expert here, but how’s this supposed to help my ribs?”
Alexei lets out a bark of laughter, the sound startling in the tense quiet of the room. “Is not for injuries, idiot. It’s for after.”
I stare at him blankly.
Eli huffs out an exasperated breath, his cheeks pinking. “It's for your butthole . . . for when you bottom. Helps with the, uh, soreness and stuff.”
Why can’t the world swallow me whole when I actually want it to? Seriously, can I just die?
Andbutthole?
But I know fuck all about anal sex, so if this shit helps I’m not turning it down. If only this conversation wasn’t happening with me sitting here naked. “Can someone hand me my clothes?”
Alexei grabs my sweats from the floor then kneels and helps get my feet into them.
Motherfucking fuck.
Did Killian fuck me into an alternate reality because these two idiots have turned into Mom and Dad?
Un-fucking-believable.
I grew up in a caring household. I was never abused. Sure, I’m a pure-blooded asshole. Entitled even. My parents are fighters, literally. They met taking kickboxing class.
Actually, they met at Crestwood. Think Mom beat the shit out of Dad for something.
But I never had friends care for me the way these two are. Or maybe I just never let anyone.
It's . . . weirdly touching, making my chest tight and this time, it’s from more than physical pain.
Eli helps me with the sweatshirt, then smirks. “Guess what they say is true, there’s a thin line between love and hate.”
