“My turn to watch.”
My groan deepened. “Don’t you want to clean up?” James loved to make a mess over himself, but he usually cleaned up quickly afterwards
His brows rose a little higher. “You do it. With your tongue. While Trace makes you come.”
“Jesus,James. That’s dirty.” My cock throbbed at the way he commanded me. My shy boy was gaining confidence.
Trace stilled behind me. “That’s very fucking dirty. I approve.”
James shuffled up the mattress. “Are you going to fuck him, Trace?” Trace murmured an affirmative. “Good. I love watching Eddie when he comes. His expressions are everything.”
“Mate, you’re embarrassing me.” I knew I’d be blushing if my physiology allowed for it. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I’d had far worse said to me by hook-ups and had barely registered their words, let alone reacted to them like a nervous schoolboy.
“Less talking, more licking.” James grabbed my hair and pushed me towards the sticky mess on his stomach. I grinned up at him and dutifully stuck out my tongue.
Trace manhandled me into position so he could fuck me while I watched James watch me. When he pushed into me, I laid my head on James’ thigh and grabbed his hand. I didn’t want to let go of him, not for a single second. There was a heady tension in the bedroom, the squelch of lube and the soft slaps of skin the only sounds apart from the harsh breaths of my companions.
I thought I’d go up like a rocket after being so close while getting James off, but Trace was too good at keeping me on a simmer, bringing me close, then backing off while I cursed him out in language that would make a demon blush. When he finally deigned to let me come, my whole body tensed and shook with an orgasm that whited out my vision and shot lightning through every nerve. I was vaguely aware of Trace’s grip on my hips tightening and a garbled grunt-moan that signified his own release as he thrust hard several times, then shuddered to a halt, ending up half draped over me as he went slack.
I allowed my limbs to melt into the sheets and waited for my brain to come back to me. I was cum-drunk and thoroughly fucked, the absolutely perfect combination.
When I regained my senses, it was to see James smiling down at me, his blissed-out expression one I would happily sell my soul to put on his face every damn day until the end of time. We were still holding hands. “I love you so fucking much,” I blurted.
His eyes blew wide. “You do?” he stuttered. “I mean, wow.” His pulse accelerated wildly and he stared at me in what looked like disbelief.
“You’re very easy to love, James.” Trace pressed a damp kiss to the back of my neck, then withdrew and flopped onto his back. “As is Eddie, but I’m sure you’re aware of that.”
I shuffled around so I was tucked between them. I linked my fingers with those of Trace and squeezed. I wasn’t ready to say anything like that to him, not yet, but I didn’t want him feeling like the odd man out. “You know we don’t want you here just for sexual kicks, right? There’s more. I’m just…”
“I know.” He touched our lips together and I swear I felt him sigh. “Love can never be demanded, expected, or rushed.”
“That’s profound.” James leaned up, steadying himself on my thigh as he regarded Trace.
Trace was, I felt, deliberately staring at the ceiling as he answered. “You get a lot of time to think when you have a solitary lifestyle. When you add in the fuck-ups I’ve been a part of over the years, simply being accepted feels like a precious gift.” He returned the pressure on my fingers. “I feel wanted here, and not just for fun in the bedroom. It means a lot.”
James cupped my chin with a hand that felt shaky. “I, uh, I really like you, Edwin.”
“I know you do.” I pulled him down to brush my lips over his. “I’m in no hurry, sweetheart. I just wanted you to know.” I hadn’t, not like that, but I’d said it now and I didn’t regret my words. I was also aware I desperately wanted to ask Trace what he’d meant by ‘fuck-ups’, but post-coital dozing wasnotthe time.
I lay there and listened as the breaths on either side of me evened out into soft stereo snores, mentally counting down the days until Trace was fully moved in.
27
EDWIN
Trace sentout change of address notifications to anyone who needed them. He was frantically busy, cajoling his numerous plants to not only survive, but to thrive. Marlowe had done what he could, but Trace worked eighteen-hour days for the first week or so, with James and I doing what we could to support him. James forwent what was, in my opinion, far too much sleep to ensure Trace was eating balanced meals, often cooking when he should have been resting. Nothing I said made a jot of difference; he merely hoiked his eyebrows in my direction and asked if I preferred to watch Trace keel over from exhaustion. So, I buttoned my lip and pretended not to notice when he yawned his way through his own mealtimes or fell asleep before brushing his teeth, something he was usually very particular about.
Because Trace worked the bulk of his hours during daylight and I could tell he was stretched enough, including explaining to James what needed doing, I turned my attention to tasks that could be done at any time, like everyone’s laundry and ordering shopping to be delivered. As soon as sunset came, I occupied myself with stripping down and preparing of the exterior of Trace’s carriage for painting. Isher had rightly expended hismagical energies on the inside, but the façade was in desperate need of tarting up. Luckily, having restored Bluebell — when I’d originally bought her, and again more recently (although I hadn’t completed the second do-over when I’d been roped in to track down Cormack) — I knew what I was doing. It was a slow, methodical process, but one I enjoyed. Trace seemed relieved he didn’t have to worry about it, another plus.
Sex became a victim of James and Trace’s combined fatigue. I understood, or I tried to, but it had been so long since I’d felt tired for more than a few minutes that I struggled to be as sympathetic as perhaps I should have been. Both men resorted to monosyllables and grunts, not unkindly, but I felt pushed aside and it hurt. They still showed me affection, James especially when I fed from him, but then again, I didn’t think he could help himself. Nobody was fucking anybody though, or even indulging in mutual masturbation. I was lonely, even when all three of us were in the garden together. When I heard the other two discussing soil balance and pellet fertilisers or compost heaps or whatever they talked about, it felt as though they’d shut me out. In turn, I became progressively less chatty myself. In my honest moments, I knew my reaction was that of a sulky brat, but I wasn’t sure how to turn it off. So I kept quiet and brooded, finding my thoughts straying too often to the possibility of trawling the bars and clubs in search of some attention. The summer nights were humid and still, and in the times I was awake, the days sultry and silent.
One afternoon, about three weeks after Trace moved in, I’d been awake for a while, quietly reading on my phone, when James became restless. At first I assumed he was having a nightmare, of which he still had too many and with increasing frequency this past week. It became evident it wasn’t a bad dream when he started pressing closer to me, then began rocking his groin against my thigh. His scent changed, arousalperfuming the bedroom as I lay still, wondering whether I should wake him or not. I decided not to; for once his rest was evidently pleasurable.
He moaned quietly, then reached over to grab hold of me with one hand. My dick, which took notice of pretty much anything James did, like breathing, was an iron bar in my boxers. I clenched my teeth and willed myself not to move. Whatever he was dreaming about didn’t mean he would be on board with my involvement. With this much encouragement though, it wouldn’t take me long to bring myself off in the bathroom later.
The thrusting and moaning continued. James was a little sweaty, his hair tousled and his eyelids flickering as he rubbed against me to complement his sleep fantasy. I was an eager voyeur, wishing I could see inside his mind and share the pictures he was so evidently enjoying. Without conscious thought, I found my fingers curled around my aching erection, hoping to stave off my own release.
Without any warning, James suddenly grunted and shuddered. Wetness seeped through his pyjama bottoms onto my thigh. A moment later his eyes shot open.
