He didn’t know where the thought had come from, but there was something about his brother. Something about his ex-wife. He wouldn’t have put it past either of them, and he had to know the truth. He didn’t care if Rhys had. In fact, Daniella going after Rhys was exactly the kind of thing she would do. And after the things Rhys had said the last time they talked, well… nothing surprised him anymore.
“Sebastian,” Rhys said.
That was a yes.
“Are you involved with her now? Or was it a passing thing?” He sighed. “I just want to know if I should expect to see her at family events.”
“You know I don’t do long term,” Rhys answered.
“You were just engaged.”
“And now I’m not.”
Sebastian closed his eyes and frowned. Itshouldbother him that his brother had slept with his ex-wife, but when he thought about intimacy, his mind focused on Remington’s hands and the way his bottom lip turned such a dark red when they’d kissed until they couldn’t breathe. Sebastian couldn’t dig deep enough to find memories of Daniella beyond the contentious argument they’d had in Mallardsville at the ribbon cutting event.
“She is manipulative,” he warned.
“And I’m not?”
“You shouldn’t sound so proud of that,” Sebastian said, opening his eyes and taking a drink of coffee. The hot bitter liquid soothed the rough edges of his throat and he settled, already feeling calmer.
The call with Rhys wasn’t on his schedule for the morning. His schedule had toast with butter, eggs, and coffee.
“Is there a reason you’re calling?” he asked, getting up and padding over to his fridge. He had a bag of pre-cooked hard-boiled eggs on the top shelf, and he pulled one out, taking a bite as he closed the door with his foot.
“No,” Rhys said, his voice softer than Sebastian was used to. “I just…”
Sebastian waited, but Rhys didn’t follow up.
“I’ve got to go, Rhys,” he said after he’d finished eating the egg and half the toast. When they’d been younger, silence between them had been easy, but as adults, not as much. Sebastian learned years before that Rhys wasn’t quiet or soft, he was calculating. There wasn’t a time where Rhys was ever off. He was always thinking of a way to one up the people around him, either by exceeding expectations or manipulating the game to the result he wanted.
Sebastian had watched the way Rhys played Callahan when they’d been in college, and he’d tried to warn his best friend, but Rhys was always a step ahead or Callahan had been willfully blind, or maybe both. None of it mattered now because it was the past. Callahan had Jace and Sebastian… well, maybe one day he would have Remington.
“Right,” Rhys said, clearing his throat. “Bye, then.”
The phone beeped, the screen went black, and Sebastian finished his toast and coffee. He didn’t want to care that his ex and his brother had been together, but it poked at him in an annoying way that he couldn’t articulate. Rhys, by nature, was a gloater, and it rubbed Sebastian wrong that he hadn’t. Not that he wanted his brother to boast about that kind of thing, just that Rhys always would have.
Sebastian slid off the stool and took his dishes to the sink, washing them with a new sponge and sliding them into their appropriate spots on the dryer rack. He checked his phone for the next bit of instructions, finding words that had his breath catching in his throat.
“Shower and touch yourself until you’re hard, then stop,” he muttered, gripping his phone in an ironclad grip and stalking toward the bedroom. “Touch yourself the way I would.”
He threw the phone on the bed, his cock already halfway hard from the instruction alone. He didn’t know how Remington would touch him… because he hadn’t yet. Sebastian hoped he could imagine it.
He wondered briefly if there was something wrong with him. Getting hard from words couldn’t be normal. But every message he received from Remington had all of his blood flowing south. He’d leaked wet spots into almost every pair of underwear he owned, and if he stopped to think about how much more confident Remington was with the screens between them…
Sebastian’s entire body trembled, and he bent over, bracing himself on the bed as he shoved his sleep pants to his ankles. The waistband caught around his cock, and he let out a curse.
There was something to be said for the way Remington commanded him in person, but the decisive and confident competence that oozed out of his texts and emails was on a whole other level. Sebastian took a breath to steady himself, then went to the shower, turning the water on hot and stepping under the spray.
He tilted his head back and lightly danced his fingertips across the center of his chest. Even in the shower's heat, gooseflesh peppered his skin, and he dragged his touch downward. Remington hadn’t touched him much, but the intent was always there, simmering just beneath the surface. Sebastian skated his fingers over his wet happy trail, lower, to the base of his cock.
His erection already pointed toward the wall and he gripped himself, giving the barest hint of a tug toward his tip. He sucked in a breath, the palm of his hand hot against his skin, and he braced himself against the wall with a soft groan. He was already hard. He’d been hard since before he got into the shower, but he closed his eyes and pretended his fingers were Remington’s fingers, and it was over too quick.
He couldn’t have stopped the orgasm if he’d wanted to, and Sebastian finished his shower, his entire body flushed scarlet from embarrassment and shame. After, he returned to the bed, to his phone, with a towel held loose around his waist. He checked the instructions, even though he knew what came next.
“Send me a picture of it, then call me,” the message said.
Sebastian pulled the towel away and stared at his soft cock. He couldn’t send a picture like that, but getting himself hard again would technically be a lie. He thought about Remington’s disapproval, and his balls tingled.
