“How was your day?” he asked, squinting. “I tried to call you a little while ago, but you didn’t answer.”
I patted my pockets, shoving Lincoln up with a knee to get to them. They were empty.
“Oh, shit.” Heat burned my face. “I left it in the bedroom. I wasn’t thinking. Or I was thinking too much. I…sorry, Sir.”
Lincoln made a very contemplative sound, then rolled onto his side to face the TV, leaving Marshall and me both grunting for how bony he was.
“It’s all right.” Marshall stretched an arm across the back of the couch and pulled me to him so our legs touched beneath Lincoln’s weight. “Did the two of you have a good night?”
“Yeah. Yes. What about you?”
“Smith is struggling with the new brother thing,” he said, “but I think he’s in a better place now.”
“Good.”
I handed Lincoln the remote since I didn’t think he was at all interested in the news, and when he started to scroll through the channels, I rested my head on Marshall’s shoulder. It was some kind of perfection in that moment, I thought, my boyfriend and my best friend in the same place. The peace, the steadfast comfort I stole from the both of them.
Half an hour later, Lincoln rolled onto his back and blinked up at me. His eyes were a little red in the corners, lashes dark and fanned across his cheeks.
“I’m gonna move,” he said.
I bit the inside of my cheek and managed half of a nod. The set of his jaw and sheen in his eyes confirmed he’d been thinking hard about it since we’d talked, and he’d made up his mind.
“Thank God,” Marshall said, reaching between their bodies and shoving his hand under Lincoln’s hip. “You’re ridiculously bony.”
It wasn’t what he’d meant, but Marshall didn’t know that.Lincoln gave me an uncertain smile, then moved off Marshall’s lap and onto mine.
“Can I ask Silas to get me a drink?” he asked Marshall.
“You can ask, but he doesn’t have to do it.”
Marshall stretched, arms and legs out until something cracked. He was still dressed from work, and there was no way that was comfortable for him.
“Would you get me a drink?”
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Some wine,” Marshall answered on his behalf.
Lincoln’s nostrils flared.
“Did you want a glass too, Sir?” I asked, unwrapping Lincoln from my lap to stand.
“A small one.”
“Can I help you change first?”
Lincoln made an unimpressed noise in the back of his throat, but he already knew the truth of me, and he’d known the truth of my relationship with Marshall long before I’d been willing to admit it to myself.
“Of course, Silas.”
“Get your own wine,” I said to Lincoln, shoving him toward the kitchen.
He grumbled but laughed, heading for the kitchen while I trailed Marshall into the bedroom. I could have made undressing him a whole thing, but I didn’t want to keep Lincoln waiting too long, considering how tentative things were between us with both of our upcoming relocations.
Marshall watched me quietly as I undid all the buttons on his shirt and stripped him out of it, moving to his belt and pants next, and finally his underwear. On my knees in front of him, I pressed my cheek against his groin and inhaled deeply. The musky smell of him wasn’t just arousing, it was also comforting. His fingers carding gently through my hair while I breathed him in only doubled all of those feelings.
“Is everything all right?” he asked quietly, letting me lean on him.
