“I’ll unlock the door, but I still need to talk to you.”
Dropping his chin, he gestures toward the seating arrangement. I drop onto the small couch, leaving ample room for him, but he takes one of the seats across from me.
He supports his elbow on the arm of the chair and leans into his hand, avoiding my eyes. I slouch, unsure what to say now that I’ve got him where I want him. After a few more moments of silence, he straightens his posture, and with a heavy sigh, his eyes finally meet mine.
“What would you like to talk about, Nacho?”
“So, in here, I’m Nacho?”
“It keeps things straight in my head,” he admits, his honesty surprising but not.
“I came because I missed our sessions.”
He snorts, shaking his head, and I can’t tell if he doesn’t believe me or if he thinks I’m referring to the sexual tension we’ve always played off.
“Ouractualsessions, Bram. You always had good advice.”
“And you need advice?”
“Yeah.”
While he patiently waits for me to continue, I flounder for a second, trying to come up with something to say. I don’t have an agenda, maybe because I never believed I’d get this far. I don’t want to be disappointed by what he thinks about us, so I start with the thing that made me book the appointment in the first place.
“I sometimes get these racist, homophobic assholes DMing me on social media, and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take it. Like, in jail, you take that shit seriously if you don’t wanna end up dead in the yard. But out here, I’m noticing people talk big shit all the time without backing it up. So am I supposed to prepare for a war? Or am I supposed to laugh at this motherfucker and move on?”
Bram nods along as I’m talking, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s grateful for the opportunity to put on his therapy hat.
“It is hard to know what to do. Most of the time, you can pretty much ignore every word that comes out of their mouths. A lot of those people are sad little keyboard warriors who will never go beyond their mothers’ basements.”
We share a dry laugh, but when our eyes meet, his drift off again.
“Do you have a particular message you can show me?” he asks.
I nod, pulling up the screenshots on my phone before pushing it across the desk to him.
He quickly scrolls through the nonsense, shaking his head. “This guy’s not making any direct threats. He’s making reference to something about the posts, which glorify your deviant lifestyle. Do you know which posts he’s referring to?”
The answer isn’t going to make him very happy, but I kinda wanna fuck with him at this point. Chuckling, I grab my phone, navigate to my account, and scroll down to a selfie I took with Erik and the two sets of throuples we hung out with once. We’re all clothed, but the caption readsTime to get it on.
Hah. That post got me a lot of play in my DMs…which is why I posted it. Bram’s nostrils flare as he reads the comments. Finally, his eyes lock onto mine.
Score.
“I don’t know who these other people are, but that’s Oscar from the bar and Warwick, Joaquin, and Colt from Rebel Sky.And Erik.”
I bite my fingernail, grinning as confirmation.
“Did you have sex withallof them?”
I nod, trying to think back through the night. “Pretty sure I did. I think Oliver and Abel’s girlfriend sat on my cock at some point, though I was blindfolded for some of it.”
The set of his jaw is giving me life, as is the vein thumping out a rhythm on his forehead.
“Oh!” I say, holding up my finger. “Erik and I had already decided to stop fucking, so we didn’t do each other that night.”
“Wait,” he says, his chest rising and falling so rapidly I wonder if he’s about to hyperventilate. “You used to sleep withErik? Like, regularly?”
“Sleep? No,” I answer, not bothering to keep the amusement out of my voice. Gesturing with both of my hands, I explain, “He’s hung like a moose and has stamina for daysss. I had him on my regular rotation for a few months, but, pfft, that fizzled out before the orgy.”
