Vincent
Iwanted to bake you something—a lot of somethings—and your kitchen was not nearly as equipped as Lucian’s, so we stayed the night on the mainland, and the next day, I kneaded dough for bread, layered butter for puff pastry, and even attempted macarons with Lucian’s help. With the exception of my bloodmeals, I mostly ate vegan, but I wanted to make some of the rich butter and cream recipes you liked best. Lucian and I worked alongside each other all morning. Neither of us mentioned the beating I’d begged him for, though I still felt the ache in my bruised muscles and the tug of the wounds that had scabbed but not yet healed.
When I’d approached Lucian about it the day before, a nervous wreck, he’d been completely calm and practical. No teasing and no judgement. He’d set the rules and delivered the blows exactly as I’d asked. He understood that side of me implicitly. And you were trying to. For that, I was grateful.
I glanced over to where you sat reading by a window with the morning light falling over your studious brow like a painting of a scholar. I liked having you nearby. If I was feeling anxious or uncertain, I only had to focus on your steady breathing and rhythmic heartbeat to center myself again. I’d been leaning on you a lot lately, but I was getting stronger every day. I’d prove to you that I could be a partner and not someone who needed constant supervision and care.
While we baked, Stefan strolled in and out of the kitchen like it was his own personal catwalk. His clothes were nothing fancy, and it didn’t look like he’d done anything more than comb his fingers through his artfully tousled hair, but he was a natural beauty, the kind that attracted the eye, even if all he did was lounge around and watch us work. A few times I caught him staring at me. His attention was always a little bit startling.
Lucian dipped into the bowl of cream and scooped up a fingerful for Stefan to sample. Their eyes met in a brief stand-off. Every interaction between them was a battle of wills, and just when I thought he’d refuse, Stefan’s lips slowly parted and he licked the cream from Lucian’s finger daintily, careful not to get any excess on his lips. Stefan was very thorough, and I’d swear Lucian was going to squirt in his pants just from that brief contact.
Lucian dotted Stefan’s nose with cream and Stefan went cross-eyed, an expression of surprise on his handsome face. An unexpected giggle bubbled up that shocked us all. Stefan quickly swallowed his laughter and schooled his expression back to practiced boredom. He reminded me of Spooky when I’d first found her living in a culvert, slow to trust but wanting affection all the same.
“I’m going for a swim,” Stefan said abruptly and rose from his seat.
“Would you like company?” Lucian asked.
Stefan shrugged one shoulder, not bothering to give any more of a reply. His casual dismissal only enticed Lucian more. Stefan strolled out of the French doors, leaving them wide open behind him, and began taking off his clothes right there on the veranda. Lucian licked his lips and stared after him, reminding me of that cartoon wolf who gets hearts in his eyes whenever a pretty lady passes by.
“That young man does something to me,” Lucian said. He’d discarded his apron already and was unbuttoning his shirt.
“He’s an incubus,” you said and glared briefly at Stefan’s naked backside before returning to your book.
Lucian frowned at you, even as his eyes drifted back to where Stefan dragged one foot lazily across the surface of the spring-fed pool. “You’ll finish up in here, right, Vincent?” Apparently, baking with me just couldn’t compete with dat ass.
“Sure thing, bro.”
“Come back tonight,” Lucian said. “We’ll have a bonfire. I want to get Stefan drunk and uncover all of his secrets.”
I doubted it would be that easy or that Lucian needed our assistance in getting Stefan drunk. Intoxicated or not, Stefan was like a vault, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be the one to crack that code.
Lucian followed his dick outside while I filled the pastries with cream. I stole glances to where Lucian knelt beside a lounging Stefan like a lovesick puppy. For his effort, Lucian was allowed to rub sunscreen over Stefan’s long, pale limbs. He straddled Stefan mid-thigh in order to work the lotion into his tapered back and smooth ass cheeks. Even with Lucian mostly clothed, it was pretty scandalous.
“Does that arouse you?” you asked. You’d migrated from the window to the bar with only the counter between us. One of my cream puffs had overflowed. How apropos.
“Um… yeah. A little.”
You turned to watch Lucian and Stefan frolicking like nymphs in the pool. At one point, Stefan spouted water out of his mouth in a fountain aimed at Lucian’s chest. He had to know what he was doing. Lucian splashed him back, which coaxed the rare smile from Stefan, who quickly turned away to hide it. After a little more teasing, Stefan hauled himself out of the water, pausing strategically mid-lift to show off his perfectly sculpted ass. Lucian only watched him, besotted. I was impressed by both Lucian’s restraint and Stefan’s flinty will in resisting him. They must both like the chase.
“I think there’s something wrong with me,” I admitted and risked a glance at you. “Sexually.”
“Why do you think that?” Your tone was so matter of fact. I pushed the overstuffed cream puff toward you, and you set to licking it in a way that could only be described as pornographic. Did you know what you were doing to me or were you as oblivious as ever?
“There’s this…” I waved my hand in the air, trying to find the words to describe it. “Block. I can’t seem to, um, finish.” My body was so cut off from me while I was in prison, I couldn’t feel anything except hunger. And even now when I got aroused… it was like my mind wouldn’t give my body permission to release. “I just kind of freeze up. Except for sometimes when I’m asleep.”
I’d been able to get off a few times while dreaming about you, waking to my underwear soaked in spunk. I recalled then how I used to leave my dirty briefs for you as a treat, like catnip. I was so reckless then. Bold and arrogant, too.
“What arouses you in your dreams?” you asked. How you kept your tone so neutral was a miracle. Still, I dropped my head in my hands because my face was on fire, all the way up to the tips of my ears.
“Ummm,” I cleared my throat. “Well… you.”
“Me?” you asked, delighted.
“You shouldn’t be so surprised. We used to share dreams after all.”
We hadn’t lately because I didn’t want you to see what my subconscious dredged up. Not all of my dreams were fun, sexy fantasies. A lot of them were pretty fucking horrific. And I couldn’t always escape them.
“Well, what are we doing?” Was it just me or did your voice drop a register and get all growly?
