The stupid crutch falls to the side when I reach over for my clothes, making a loud racket. “You okay?” Memphis yells through the door. Geez, is he standing right there?
“I’m fine, it just fell,” I explain, leaning over to pick it up. I’m slightly worried he’s going to open the door while I’m sitting on the toilet to make it easier to change, so I rush through the motions and hastily get dressed.
When I turn the water on to wash up and brush my teeth, he comes in unannounced. I give him a wide-eyed stare, but he either doesn’t care or notice as he sidles up next to me to shove his toothbrush under the water.
“What if I were still going to the bathroom?” I ask.
He turns to look at me with his toothbrush already behind his lips, and an indifferent shrug lifts his shoulders. “You weren’t.”
“I could have been.”
“You left the door cracked, and I heard the water come on.” He resumes brushing.
“It’s dark, and I don’t love closed doors at night,” I admit, feeling slightly defensive like I’ve done something wrong.
Memphis bends a little and spits in the sink. My stomach hollows out in a strange way. It seems like such an intimate thing to witness, yet I don’t think I’ve ever thought that about anyone else.
“Why don’t you like closed doors?” He licks his lips, and my eyes track the movement.
“Um…” I glance down so I can form a clear thought. He’s so distracting.
“Eyes on me, Waylynn.” Memphis doesn’t give me a second to recover. Instead, he demands my attention in a way that makes me want to give it to him. When I meet his gaze again, he asks the same question. “Why don’t you like closed doors?”
“I don’t like being locked in, especially in little places. It makes me feel trapped, helpless.” The confession is a little frightening to admit out loud, but I feel like I’m sharing something and giving him a tiny fragment of what’s in my head.
Memphis brings his arm up, wraps it around the back of my neck, then pulls me close to him so he can press a soft kiss to my temple. “Thank you for telling me. Finish up so we can get you in bed.”
As soon as he releases me, I get busy brushing my teeth, feeling self-conscious the entire time because he barely gives me any space and continues to watch me like a hawk.
“Are you guys coming out or are we moving into the bathroom?” Oswald calls out with a harrumph.
“It’s called oral hygiene, you should try it sometime,” Memphis tells his brother when he exits after me.
“Oral…hygiene, you say? Maybe I need some education.” Oswald’s voice is low yet teasing.
Memphis takes my crutches from me when I reach the side of the bed and leans them against the wall, just out of my reach if I were lying in bed. I’m pretty sure it’s intentional to make sure I have to wake him if I need to get up at some point.
“You need help brushing your teeth?” I purposely misunderstand Oswald’s words as I crawl into bed on my hands and knees. It’s easier than scooting on my butt and dragging my leg.
He lifts his head off the pillow and watches me come closer. “Keep coming, plenty of room.” I wish it weren’t so dark. I’d like to be able to see his face right now, because his voice is all deep and sleepy, but that’s not the vibe he’s giving. “A little more.”
“I would be on top of you.” I lean to the side and start to slide my arm under the pillow.
“That was the point. I guess I’ll do all the work.” He turns on his side and pushes his mouth against mine in a kiss that speaks of his impatience. My lips part, and Oswald slips his tongue into my mouth. The only thing I can taste is minty toothpaste for the first few seconds, then the heat of his mouth invades my senses until there’s nothing more important than the swipes of his tongue…except maybe the feel of Memphis as he slides up behind me and presses his body tightly against mine.
The overload of sensations is almost too much for about twenty seconds, but my mind clears and I become hyper-focused on where each of them are touching me. I can feel Oswald’s slightly callused fingertips and palm brushing along my cheek and delving into my hair, and Memphis’ steady hands on my lower stomach, pulling me back so I’m cradled in the bend of his body.
My breath catches when I feel him pressed up against my butt, the hardness leaving no question as to what it is. I push back against him a little more, and he makes a sound right behind my ear that could just be an exhale leaving his lungs, but it feels like so much more.
Oswald deepens our kiss, shifting his angle so he’s leaning over me slightly, which pushes me against Memphis. His hand slides out of my hair and down to my chest, where he cups my breast over my shirt and moves his thumb back and forth over my nipple.
Muscles low in my stomach clench, and my hips swivel, grinding against Memphis. His fingers curl over my hip in a punishing grip, and he holds me in place while he rocks against me. His lips find a spot on the back of my neck that has me releasing a small whimper into Oswald’s mouth.
The heat building between my legs surprises me, along with the desperate, edgy feeling that comes with it. When my back arches the little bit it can between them, Oswald slides his hand farther down my body until he reaches the hem of my shirt, where he teases his fingers under the fabric. The rough skin on the tips of his fingers trails up my stomach. The higher he gets, the more I inhale, until I’m left holding my breath as he brushes his thumb over my nipple.
I melt into Memphis, exhaling as I do, but it only lasts until Oswald pinches my tip, and I arch again, shoving my ass backwards. No one has ever touched me like this. I’ve always been too guarded to let myself go, to feel anything remotely close to this, but I can’t deny how badly I want them to keep going, and when Memphis’ hand slides over my hip until he’s just barely able to slip a few of his fingers between my legs, it can only be described as relief.
I can feel the slightest pressure on my clit, and the throb there intensifies even more, making me feel needy. My panties are wet, and now he probably knows it too, but I don’t care.
