Gently, I push Everett down so that he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. He can keep Grave in his line of sight so that it’s easier to let his guard down, which is the first step in diffusing the volatile testosterone flooding the air. Without hesitation, I pull my shirt over my head, tossing it onto the ground before tugging at the hem of his, raising an eyebrow to see if he’ll bite.
His eyes flit between me and Grave, noting the way the latter is still rooted to the spot, hasn’t tried to lash out from that first moment. He’s trapped in his head, all of that explosive, helpless rage focused inward now.
Tugging his shirt off, Ev waits to see where I’m going with this, one hand gripping the edge of the mattress like he’s prepared to jump to his feet in an instant, to put himself between the two of us if necessary. But as much as I know he’s right, that it would wreck Grave if he actually hurt me, having yet another person come between us can’t end well either. For it being the three of us against the world, it sure doesn’t feel that way right now.
I might be calling it horribly wrong, but I don’t think it’s this one thing that’s set him off, it was just the last straw. Grave’s the one that pushed the two of us together, after all, encouraging the unconventional relationship. And yet Everett’s been slowly putting a wedge between us to push Grave back to the outskirts.
He might be terrified of what will happen to me in Julian’s house, but he’s more afraid of being left alone again, forgotten. So while I might have no choice but to go, Everett will still be here. I can’t fix the situation completely, but I can make it better, remind him that he won’t be alone while I’m gone.
If I’m even able to come back.
I try to pull on courage that I’ve never had to before, attempt to keep my voice aloof and steady as I shimmy out of my pants. Not because I’m scared of him, but because I’m scared of losing him.
“Do you remember what you told me that first day?”
He doesn’t answer, like I knew he wouldn’t. His gaze is unfocused as he stares at the red stain on his fingers, rubbing his thumb across the pads of his fingers with a disconnected fascination.
Down to my underwear, I push Everett onto his back. As I start to undo his pants, he lifts his hips and helps me slide them off. Climbing on top of him, I use my foot to shove them down further until he kicks them aside. Straddling his waist, I reach over to grab a pillow from the bed. Taking a leap of faith, I chuck it at Grave’s face.
He doesn’t need coddling or avoidance to give him time to pull himself together, he needs someone to snap him out of it, to get him out of his head. All the jokes, the games; they’re just a way to try and connect with the people around him.
He wants to be here with us as much as he doesn’t, and that’s something I understand better than anyone. I want to be a million miles away, but I don’t want to miss what’s happening in front of me either. Sure, I may want to retreat into my own little world when blows are raining down on me, to have an emergency exit always accessible, but I’m not nearly as good at it as he is.
And right now he’s stuck, unable to find his way back to us.
“That anyone in your bed wants to be there.”
Finally, he tears his rapt attention away from his hand to us, blinking several times like he’s suddenly noticing we’re even in the room. His face scrunches up in confusion and he tentatively touches his shoulder again, feeling the wound, trying to make sense of everything.
Ev is more hesitant to let his guard down, still stiff with tension beneath me. With the news of me leaving them, going somewhere that they can’t follow, I don’t exactly fault him for it. His overprotective nature is one of the things that drew me to him in the first place, my first safe space when I was terrified of even breathing too loudly. But I can’t hide behind him forever. As much as I want to be there to guide Grave back from the shadows, I want to be able to stand beside Everett without him thinking that I’m lesser, a burden on his already difficult life.
Running my hand up his chest as I lean down, I kiss him, silently trying to convey everything that I can’t risk speaking aloud. If Ev doesn’t accept Grave as much as he does me, this relationship is doomed before it even starts. I’m not about to be involved with two people that don’t at least respect each other, though I certainly am missing that first night that we all slept together right about now. Things weren’t nearly as complicated and hard back then, just awkward.
I pull away long enough to lick my palm before recapturing his mouth. Working my hand between us, I wrap my fingers around his length. As I pump his cock with languid strokes, I continue to rock against him, feigning obliviousness to the wreckage around us.
I’ll be the eye of the storm, if that’s what Grave needs right now. Everything around us may be falling apart, destroyed by his own hand or outside forces, but there’s always something or someone worth fighting through hell for. And just once, I’d like to be that to someone; their reason to fight, and to fight for them in return.
I know I’m fucked up; abandonment issues aplenty and a lifetime of abuse screwing with my head. All of it has left me with a shitty sense of self-esteem and a desperate need to be wanted, starved for affection to the point that the line of lust and genuine interest is so heavily blurred that I can barely tell them apart anymore. But I legitimately believe that whatever’s happening between the three of us is as cathartic for them as it is for me.
We’re all well overdue for someone to actually give a damn about us, which is exactly why I refuse to give up just because things are hard.
It’s clear the moment that Everett breaks. The tension keeping his muscles taut dissipates and he cups the side of my neck, deepening the kiss. With his other hand, he slips his fingers down my hip, beneath my underwear. With a hard jerk, he rips through the fabric, releasing his hold on my neck to give the other side the same treatment.
“Do you have any idea how expensive these things are?” I grumble, not really upset as he tosses the shredded fabric away.
“I’ll buy you some more,” he rumbles against me, dragging the head of his cock over my sensitive flesh, teasing.
Squirming against him, I can’t take it anymore and rise up. Slowly, I impale myself on his length, eyes fluttering shut. Gripping my hips, he thrusts up to meet me, sinking himself to the hilt with a soft groan.
We stay that way for a minute, giving me time to adjust and reveling in the relief that comes with feeling so close to someone after being alone for too long. Weeks of tossing and turning, imagining similar situations, and none of them prepared me for the real thing.
Swiveling my hips, I find a comfortable rhythm, clenching around him as the head of his cock drags against the perfect spot. My nails dig into his stomach as I ride him, alternating between wanting to stretch this out like we have all of the time in the world, and anxious to chase my release before it’s snatched away from me like everything else.
A hand slides around my throat from behind, applying just enough pressure to make it clear how little effort it would take to crush my windpipe. Completely at odds with the one wrapped around my neck, Grave’s other hand brushes the hair away from my shoulder with a feather-light touch.“You can’t leave.”
I shudder at his whispered breath against my ear. Gently tapping Everett’s side, I try to signal that everything’s alright, that he should keep moving. It takes a rock of my hips to spur him back in motion, and he’s not as relaxed as before, but it’s progress.
Breathless, I answer him, gently running my fingers over the back of his hand. “I don’t want to.”
