Trevor pulled back, eyes shining. “You going to actually answer me?” he teased lightly.
A grumble rose in Lane’s throat. Of course Trevor wanted him to actuallysayit.
“Thought I did,” Lane said, leaning in and nipping at Trevor’s mouth again.
It was obvious Trevor wasn’t bothered by the smile on his face, but he said, “Maybe I want you to say it. Out loud.”
“Gonna get demanding in the first sixty seconds?”
Trevor laughed then. “We’ve just beendoinga lot—”
“Thought you enjoyed that too,” Lane said, waggling his eyebrows in a very stupid way he wouldn’t have dared to do otherwise, but Trevorlikedhim. Wanted tobewith him. It felt too good to be true, but it wasn’t, because he was sitting right here, on the couch, practically in Lane’s lap, grinning delightedly.
Such a dream come true Lane felt like pinching himself about it.
“And I expect a lot more of it,” Trevor continued smugly, like Lane hadn’t even said anything, “butI want us to be on the same page.”
“Same page, baby,” Lane said, and kissed him again, long and deep. He wouldn’t say that was exactly true, because Lane had been wanting this for years and years and years, and had neverever thought he’d get it. But Trevor wanting it now, that was plenty good enough.
Lane was just about to drag him fully onto his lap. The game had gone to the second intermission, and besides, they both knew how it ended since Ramsey had played in it yesterday. They could absolutely have some couch sex celebrating getting together.
But then Trevor opened his mouth again. “I was thinking how we’d tell Dad and Delia, and I wanted your take—”
“What,” Lane said flatly. “What.”
Trevor shot him a look. “I know you wanna have sex, but we need to talk about this.”
“No,what,” Lane said. He did not exclaim. He did not freak out. That wasn’t what he was doing. Definitely not. There wasn’t panic streaking through him at the thought his mom and Tom would know everything. That Trevor wanted to justtell them, like it was nothing. No big deal at all. When, foryears, Lane had kept it all to himself, had swallowed down every single time he’d been even tempted to let a fragment of what he felt out—
And suddenly he couldn’t breathe.
Someone was gasping horribly, like they were dying.
That someone, that was him, Lane realized.
Trevor realized it a second after him, and before Lane could even begin to figure out what to do—never mind what to say, though getting words out of his excruciatingly tight throat would’ve been impossible,anyway—Trevor was in his lap, settling over his thighs like he belonged there, hands on Lane’s shoulders, expression intent.
“Breathe, Lane,breathe,” he said, tracing soothing circles with his fingertips. “It’s okay, it’s really okay.”
Lane shuddered out one breath. And then another. And then a third. Each one felt a little easier, though none of them felteasy.
It felt like it took long minutes but he got there, and the whole time, Trevor’s eyes never left his and his touch never left Lane’s skin.
Finally, Lane slumped back against the couch, feeling like a puppet with its strings cut. Emptied out completely, without even the capacity to lose his shit that Trevor might freak out about him totally losing it.
But Trevor did say, cautiously and quietly, “Are you okay?”
In this exact moment, yes. He was okay. But there was a whole bunch of ugly anxiety that he didn’t want to touch. A can of worms he knew Trevor would want to open up. A can of worms he probablyshouldwant to open up, if he was being bluntly honest with himself.
“I guess so.”
Trevor’s look sharpened a bit. “You guess so?”
“It’s complicated,” Lane said, sighing.
“No shit. You just had a panic attack when I suggested that we tell our parents that we’re dating.”
Lane opened his mouth to retort that of fucking course he did. They were stepbrothers! But at the last second, he didn’t, because while thatdidhave something to do with it, it was more, too.
