“Shame.”
I rolled my eyes. “What about Riot? What about Ethan?”
“What about them? Oh! I haven’t even told you about Darian.”
“Oh, my God.”
Lincoln jumped up from the table. “Smith is cuter than both of them.”
“Please don’t put the moves on my boyfriend’s brother.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said with a laugh.
I cleaned up the table, then joined him on the couch. As soon as I sat down and got comfortable, Lincoln rolled onto his side and plopped his head in my lap. Folding his hands together behind his head, he lodged his elbow into my stomach until I angled him up and found a position that didn’t make me want to cut his arm off.
“While I’m thinking,” Lincoln blurted. “What if I’m not a Dom?”
I turned on the TV and promptly dropped the remote on his face.
“What?” Bending over him, I tried my best to dust a kiss across the quickly darkening red spot blooming on his cheek. It was hardly enough, so I swirled small circles over the mark until the furrow between his brows relaxed.
“What if I’m not?” he asked again, softly.
“Where is this coming from?”
He shrugged, shouldering into my gut again.
“Don’t be that way,” I coaxed, lifting my legs beneath him to jostle his weight around.
“It’s nothing.”
“Lincoln.”
“I don’t know. I just…I’ve been wondering. And, like, when I play…” he trailed off, frown deepening. He opened his mouth to say something else at the same time the front door opened. I looked that way, finding Marshall’s frame filling the doorway, all shadow and darkness until he closed the door behind him and stepped into the light.
He still took my breath away.
“You’re disgusting for him,” Lincoln muttered.
I cleared my throat and pushed my fingers against his cheek.
“Hey,” I called out to Marshall, who smiled when he saw me.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He toed out of his shoes and dropped his bag, coming into the living room. He saw Lincoln on my lap, sprawled out across the couch. A moment of indecision flashed across his face, then he lifted Lincoln’s legs and sat down beside me. My best friend readjusted himself over the top of us, and Marshall slid his hand around the back of my neck until I leaned in close enough for him to kiss me.
“Ewww,” Lincoln groaned, covering his eyes.
“What did you have for dinner?” Marshall asked, kissing the corner of my mouth. “The house smells delicious.”
“This hole in the wall Middle Eastern place we found after we moved into our apartment,” I said.
“The,” Lincoln corrected. “Mine.”
“Fuck you.” I smacked his face again and gave Marshall a smile. “I had a salad, and he had lamb.”
“It smells great. You’ll have to take me sometime.”
I hummed happily and nodded.
