Nine

nine

GAbrIEL/BEZALIEL

I used to think that I liked my life. The routine, the privacy, the long nights working by myself.

Now I find myself standing in front of my walk-in closet. It's split down the middle, and it's clear which side belongs to Lori and which one is mine. His is a clash of fabrics in every color, pattern, and style imaginable. Some things no one but him could pull off—like the neon pink yoga pants or the fluorescent green furry sweater. That sheer, black fishnet bodysuit looked extremely hot on him, so damn hot that I nailed him against the first wall I could find in my apartment yesterday as I came back from the office.

I take a deep breath. It's like feeling him linger in the air, a faint thread of lilies everywhere I go, winding its way through the whole apartment. He has permeated the house this last week, left his imprint everywhere he walked and sat. Like a bomb, he exploded, invading my space, leaving pieces of himself in each room. Bras, makeup, shoes, hair accessories. It irritates me greatly, he's a slob. Nevertheless, I like him here sharing my stuff, seeing him walk rumpled from my bed to the closet every morning in his skimpy t-shirts.

His absence would be more real and felt deeper than his presence, and the fact that he halts the uneasiness in me is not the only reason. The abrupt certainty unsettles me. The thought of not being around Lori ever again leaves me with a hollow, sick feeling all the way from my chest down to my very soul.

He's never going to fucking leave , Bez states. Still under the illusion that he has any kind of power over him.

With the way we wake him up every night, hard cock fucking one of his holes? Abso-fucking-lutely. He loves that shit, he insists.

I still recall his shocked gasps, head tossed back, mouth hung open, his breathy moans as I rolled my hips the way he likes. I've never felt my groans reverberate so deeply in my throat, such grit in the sound, my dick pulsing repeatedly while stretching his walls until he whimpered.

My cock turns half hard at the thought. Bez especially likes to fuck Lori when he sleepwalks to our bed—he still does it at times—or falls asleep on the sofa while watching one of his gory movies. I prefer to take him to bed and slowly have my time with him when he's wide awake. It doesn't matter to Lori, he's always eager to take us anyway we want.

I turn around and step on one of Wednesday's squeaky toys. She doesn't like them, squawks at the sound, and proceeds to stomp on them with her clawed feet. I also found out that she's a skilled pickpocket. With her beak, she can get to anything but seems especially fond of my wallet. She runs incredibly fast on those stick legs when I try to get it back.

When we went shopping a week ago, Lori brought Wednesday in a pink baby carrier, stating that his lady needed all the fresh air she could get. The hen seemed to like it, staring at me with that red, empty gaze. She didn't cluck even once while we went from one shop to another.

I expected Lori to buy things for himself, but he chose some items for my apartment, more things for Wednesday, a few small presents for Sully and Ollie. Only when we stopped at his favorite thrift store did he choose some things for himself. I still saw the way he stared longingly at some designer bags in a shop window. I know he rents his from some weird app.

So I bought two and gave them to Lori that night, earning a beaming smile and a koala hug, while my dick got the ride of its life.

Lori will get a bag collection, Bez says.

No arguments from me.

Of course not. Your dick is on board, finally. Bez lets out one of his low chuckles.

The only thing Lori loves more than bags is the law and all its loops and twisted facets. I come back home every night and find him listening to rock music on the sofa with his nose in thick books, studying hard for his course. I know he has what it takes to become a great lawyer. Passion, persistence, and a sharp mind. I find myself thinking of ways to help him without letting him know. He's used to doing things by himself, and I admire his perseverance, not so much his stubbornness. Don't like his petty little revenges.

I took his wiener mobile to my mechanic a couple of days ago, a diagnostic was long overdue on his old car, and Lori is still using the rental car service to go to the office every day. He freaked out, and I had to introduce him to my mechanic because he needed to meet face-to-face the person who was going to " operate" on his car. He still wasn't happy.

After that, we came back to the office, I saw him laughing exaggeratedly and leaning over the arm of an assistant at lunch right under my eyes. Tendrils of jealousy snaked their way through my body, and Bez growled like a caged animal lost in overwhelming possessiveness. I tightened my grip on the pen in my hand and held until it bit into my palm, incapable of not watching Lori's every moronic, flirty move. I imagined butchering that assistant in too many ways to count. I know exactly what came over me, it was a dark, old feeling from deep within. A dangerous one.

I'd thought Lori was my healthy obsession, more like an incurable disease.

I called him into my office, pushed him face down on my desk, and gave him only enough prep to let him feel the sting of my cock when I slid inside him like I belonged there. Bez crushed him under our big body and started battering him against the desk, groaning like a beast. My merciless thrusts were turning him inside out, claiming him as mine. He kept screaming while clawing at my thighs and biting at my forearm. Bez kept calling Lori his fuck toy and cum bucket, our whore and he moaned, loving every single second of this filthy, angry fucking. He'd suddenly convulsed under me, whimpering so fucking sexily. While aftershocks were still running over him, I felt my cock swelling, heat spreading inside me. He shivered against me, and Bez pushed his dick deeper, making his eyes roll back as he ground down on his ass.

Then my body turned rigid, and my cock exploded. My mouth sucked and bit Lori's nape hungrily, no doubt leaving another bruise. I groaned, pumping him full of my cum. Bez reminded him he was fucking ours. He laughed and moaned once again.

We went for another round, Bez and I still switching one moment to another. It had never happened before. Lori was the first guy we ever actually shared. It was a new development.

When we were done, I was still angry at him. Blinded by my jealousy.

All my muscles ached, and as I slipped out of him, we started arguing heatedly about a possible client. He stated that the plaintiff had a good cause of action in negligence, I disagreed since the evidence was insufficient, therefore the claim was unsupported. Only a judge could resolve the dispute, and I knew a retired one who could easily do that. But Lori needed to learn that I'm not someone you want to cross.

"If you lose, you'll be my temp assistant until my PA comes back," I threw out the challenge.

"I'm a paralegal, not a bloody PA," he retorted, annoyance filling his voice.

"Is the work too easy for you? Are PAs not as good as paralegals?"

"Stop lawyer-ing me, you prickly, verbal-sparring, closed-off piece of marble!"

"Marble?"

"Your skin reminds me of the white counter in the kitchen apartment…not important." He waved his hands madly in the air. "And if I win? What do I get?"

"I'll give you one month to study full-time while still paying you."

The pout on his lips let me know he was pondering my proposal. "Two months and I'll also sleep in your bed every night," he added. His counter proposal surprised me. He already did that most nights, and I thought he preferred to have his privacy sometimes.

Told you , Bez grumbled.

I'd won. The case needed more evidence, which meant that Lori became my assistant.

"Can you do it? Be my PA?" I asked him.

"I shall do my best, boss," he replied with an evil smirk and an even more devilish look.

Three days have passed, and Lori runs my office—and my life—like clockwork with so much efficiency and preciseness, I pretty much let him do anything he wants. Including being extra snarky with me.

When I tell him to bring me a coffee, he starts answering the phone with "Gabriel Slaver Reed's office, how can I help?" He can't cook for his life, but his coffee is creamy and slightly sweet—incredibly perfect—and he makes it only when he feels like it.

The cream is probably his spit , Bez jokes. But he might be right.

Lori also only uses my office's private bathroom, stating that the floor restroom is for Brad Pitts while mine is the George Clooney of toilets—whatever that means.

He refuses to sit at the PA desk outside my office or to answer the phone unless it is someone worth it—the calls were redirected to the floor receptionist. I let it all slide because he straightened my messy calendar out for the next month and confirmed all my appointments for the next three weeks.

On top of that, in a no-nonsense manner that didn't leave any room for argument, he added more benefits to his contract and gave himself a raise since he's still doing his paralegal job. He calls me out on any of my, what he deems, icy bullocks. I've gotten used to his less-than-professional office attire, his ever-changing nail colors, and the way he enters my office without knocking, swinging those narrow hips in high heels and taking a little jump to sit on the corner of my desk, flattening my files with his rear.

Lucky files, Bez grumbles.

I shake myself out of my thoughts, and after putting on a blue three-piece suit with a light gray shirt, I move to the living room, suddenly halting my steps. I only glance quickly at Wednesday on her roosting bars and around the room—that now features throw pillows, vanilla candles, a line of succulents, small, tall, round and squared mirrors, some framed photographs, and a large soft rug just in front of the fireplace where Lori told me in detail what he wants me to do to him. My eyes are caught by Lori's sinuous movements as he does yoga.

This is something I hope will never get old. Because seeing him contort and stretch his body so fluidly inflames my groin from zero to sixty.

He's wearing a white sports bra with my black boxer briefs. His curls are tied up in an odiously tight bun, his nails are water green—he changes the color often since he hates to see it chipped—and his face has no trace of makeup.

His dick bounces in my too-loose briefs as he changes position. He has a small triangle tattoo on his hip, a show of loyalty to Sully and Ollie's friendship, and two moles on his lower back that I like to brush my fingers over when I spoon him.

His striking, sharp, brown eyes flicker to mine, and my blood heats as my cock thickens and my heartbeat speeds up.

"Your fascination with wearing my underwear, is it a kink or a sign of kleptomania?"

He goes down on his hands, pushing his butt out and putting his head between his open legs, sending me a sultry look. His mercurial eyes change from light to dark. My cock is in a state of constant, throbbing pain because of him. Which is incredible since I didn't need much sex before I met him.

"Perhaps a klepto kink," he jokes.

"Do you always wear other people's clothes?" I ask.

"Only yours, Gabe." He winks. I feel a tendril of satisfaction at his response. I fucking like how he can easily distinguish between me and Bez. "I know you secretly dig it," he adds.

I do, so much that I have to force myself not to look at his rear, with Bez sniffing at my bullheadedness.

"Tell your little thief to stay away from my stuff, though." I send a glance at Wednesday.

"If she is a klepto, she can't help herself," Lori states, going flat on the rug with a snakelike move.

"How do you know if she is?"

"You could ask her." Such a Lori reply. I don't like his pet very much. I don't hate her either, even though she ruined two pillows, left scratches on my wooden floor, and made a hole in the wall.

He straightens, using the small towel on the sofa over his lightly sweaty neck and chest.

"Any news on Bailey or the drugs?" Lori suddenly asks.

"Rami and Hunter are working on a new angle."

"What angle?" He walks barefoot, cutely on his tiptoes, to the table to grab a bottle of water. His Adam's apple bobs every time he swallows, and if I didn't have somewhere to be, I'd give him something I know he enjoys sucking and choking on.

"Nothing concrete yet," I reply, pushing the sexy images away for now. Lori switched my sex drive to the highest gear, and now I find myself thinking about his stretched lips or loud moans even during a work conference or a phone call with my brothers.

Bez laughs at my expense.

"Choo choo! I need to get on the murder train, or I won't be responsible for my foul mood," he hisses.

"More than usual?" I taunt him, pulling the hair tie and letting his curls fall down.

Stunning. It's incredible how much beauty he naturally possesses.

He narrows his eyes but doesn't push me away. He never does. He accepts me, criticizes me, mocks me, even laughs at me. Working with him has been a real challenge at times, we have very different approaches. Lori is passionate about what he does, he gives his soul to each case, cares about the clients, gets to know them, gives them a shoulder to cry on.

My unbiased and dispassionate methods clash with his, but I've found out that seeing the other's perspective helps us to get things done. Unless Lori starts cussing at me and Bez takes over. He still screams, but that kind I encourage.

I can usually feel a barely contained vibrancy inside of him, but when he finds a way to win a case, his eyes for a few seconds are filled with so much emotion, it explodes out of him, spreading all around. I…like it.

You? The emotional crusher? Bez sounds incredulous.

You mean emotion?

Shut it, my alter replies.

"Hey! Am I missing some inner conversation between you two? Should I be jealous?" Lori's voice penetrates my thoughts, and I find his eyes sparkling with curiosity and a bit of irritation.

"Never." I brush my thumb over his lips. That soft dip, that beauty mole are my Achilles' heel. I give it a small kiss as his succulent scent envelops me.

"I'll let you know about Bailey."

He snorts. "Right. It's cute how you think I'll just sit quietly in the kitchen like a depressed fifties housewife."

"You can't cook for your life unless it's a salad." I brush his cheek. The feel of his skin against mine soothes me, anchors me more and more to him.

"You say potatoes, I say vodka. I want in! I won't let it go, like a rat after his trash. Who's this bloke? Keyser Soze?"

"Hardly. Rami is being more careful than usual because of Phoenix. He doesn't want to play their game again. We're being smart."

He huffs, mumbling something under his breath. I quirk a brow at him, and his pouting lips morph into a smirk.

"We're watching the Usual Suspects tonight. Let me get changed."

He said we. My mouth twitches once again, but my next words make him frown. "I need to go."

He takes a step back, and starting walking backward, he asks, "Where are you going?"

"Base." I follow him, entering inside the bathroom.

"Aren't you aware of basic etiquette?" He makes a wide arm movement, showing me the room around us.

"I've seen you naked multiple times, I know you inside and out." I almost growl. To cover it, I add a taunting, "Are you turning into a prude now?"

Those puckering lips need to be bitten and sucked.

"Suit yourself." He pulls off the sports bra, revealing his pink, pointy nipples. Then giving me his back, he starts pushing down my boxer briefs…slowly, swinging his hips.

My dick is straining in my pants. I can see the upper curve of his perfect buns, round and luscious. A slight hint of peach fuzz covering his cheeks that I want to see bouncing while impaled on my cock. My hands itch to palm and squeeze.

My name tattooed on that tight ass would look fucking awesome , Bez grunts.

You sound like a frat boy, I retort. Not liking the idea one bit.

Lori bends lower, and I get a quick peek of the pink ring of his asshole. It looks red and a bit swollen from this morning's shower sex. Possessiveness hits me hard in the chest, and I want to taste that intimate part of him again, to thrust into that tight, perfect heat.

He turns, completely naked, dick half hard, my boxers hanging from his finger, a smirk plastered on his face, and challenge filling his eyes.

His devil-may-care attitude, self-confidence, and complete acceptance of himself is hot as hell. Those caramel curls and his big brown doll eyes, plump lips, perfect velvety skin, and compact body. He is exquisite. Bewitching. Irresistible.

My phone beeps in my vest pocket, reminding me that I have to go. I slide the cell out and check the text from Meg.

His Adam's apple bobs. "Can I come?" There's a trace of uneasiness in his voice, like it cost him to ask me. I know he's eager to eradicate evil. Next time, I'll take him with me. But not tonight. He'll be fine here alone, even though we haven't been apart long since he moved in here.

The realization leaves me dumbstruck.

"Gabe?" I can hear worry in his tone. It's astonishing how attuned he has become to me. Nobody can read me. Not even Meg at times. I like the fact that Lori can. I like him. How can I not like something that I consider mine?

Mine. My obsession has reached its peak.

Now I understand my brothers' primal need to stay near their partners, to never let them go too far. I feel the same toward Lori. Have to physically tear myself away from him most of the time.

I shake my head and back up. I can tell it's taking him a lot to let me. That he wants to reach for me, but he won't, because he respects my space when I really need it.

"Want you in my bed when I come back, naked and prepped."

He looks at me with fire in his eyes. "Yes, boss," he bites out, but I know the real meaning behind his words.

A "fuck you" for sure , Bez says.

No, a "sod off."

His rear jiggles with every step he takes to the shower.

If his compliance is fake, I need to be sure he doesn't stalk me again.

I send a text back to Meg telling her I'm on my way, and then fire one to Rami asking him to let me know if Lori moves. I know my brother is busy, but Serena can do it, and I need to know that Lori is safe while I go talk to Meg.

I hear Lori mumbling something as he enters the shower stall.

"Are you talking to yourself?" I ask, unable to leave him like this.

"Of course, I talk to myself. I need expert advice. Just like you do." He sends me a glare. Is he implying that I should listen to him more? Or Bez?

Me , Bez states.

I stalk to him, every step unrushed and deliberate. Until I cross over into his personal space without hesitation, halting with my hand on the shower door that he tries to shut in my face.

The sexual tension burns between us, crackling and sizzling in the air. His rapid breaths make my blood heat, and all I want to do is take and take. Take him.

I drag a blatantly proprietary gaze over his face, cataloging each feature and filing them in my memory. He looks entranced. I lower my head as he lifts his. It feels like a powerful force is inescapably pulling us toward each other. Our lips press together, his warmth floods from his mouth to blanket my entire body. I pull him closer, wrapping an arm around him, and swipe my tongue over the soft dip in the middle of his lower lip.

I need his taste like I need oxygen to live.

He nips my tongue before opening up for me, and I dive in. So damn perfect. I want to taste myself inside his mouth, but I like it better when it's all Lori. I grab his nape and move his head until I find a better angle as our tongues tangle together with passion and force. He attempts to dominate me as usual, but I bite his lip hard, enjoying his moan. And just as he gives in, I suck on it and break the kiss. My hand lifts to tousle his hair. His curls slips softly between my fingers.

With my lips on his forehead, I order him, "Don't go out." I point at the condensation blotting out the window because of the vicious storm raging outside. Then I let him go and leave the bathroom and the apartment.

I clench my fingers tightly as I try to keep the sensation of his silky locks on my palm.

"Gabriel," Ferdinand, the butler greets me in the entrance. He's been a steadfast figure in this house since I was a kid. I can see the time passing in the wrinkles around his eyes and the bald spot on his head. "The missuses are waiting for you in the first-floor office. Should I bring a coffee?"

"No, I won't stay long. Thank you, Ferdinand."

"Very well." He bows again before closing the door behind me.

I make my way through the foyer and pass the many closed doors, turning right in the corridor that will take me to Meg's office. It's raining too hard to see a clear view of the back garden from the many windows on my left. The leather soles of my shoes sound squeaky on the waxed floors, and the marble columns look shiny under the artificial lights.

Meg's door is ajar, and I can hear Uri's heated voice from inside. "I've been looking for years, fucking years, and now I discover that you actually saw him." Him?

"I've been looking as well as you, traveling all around," Linda replies, using a cool tone. " He came to me and then disappeared again."

"He doesn't want to be found, Uri," I hear Meg's psychiatric point of view. "Give him time."

After a few seconds, Uri asks, "What did he tell you?" He sounds calmer but still threatening.

"The first time, he was waiting for me in my hotel room in New York. He told me Phoenix is dangerous and to be careful, before jumping out the window of the sixtieth floor like a damn bird. Yesterday, he appeared outside the house gates."

"Serena mistook him for you, Uri." Rami's statement is even more confusing. Who are they talking about?

"We should tell your brothers. They deserve to know." Meg sighs.

"He asked about you, Uri," I hear Linda say after a moment.

The heavy silence that follows confirms how serious this conversation is. I shouldn't keep eavesdropping. I push the door open and make my presence known.

My foster mothers are sitting on a sofa, looking like day and night. Meg with her black and white hair tied tightly at her neck, big glasses covering her dark gaze and the shadows underneath. And Linda with her blue doe eyes, freckles on her pale skin, and straight, loose blonde hair.

Uri is standing near the blue fireplace, wearing jeans and a green sweater. I think I saw his clothes on a model in some fashion magazine a few days back. Rami is lying down on the other sofa, hands behind his head, a tight t-shirt showing his huge pecs, and the jeans he wears are tearing at the seams on his trunk legs.

"Gabriel." Meg gives me her warm smile. She's lost more weight. Her lupus seems to have gotten worse even though she always tells us she's fine. I'm sure Rami checked with her doctor. I need to talk to him about it.

Linda stands up to slap me on the back. "Like your sexy beard. Does it have anything to do with a certain twinky delight?"

Lori does like how my stubble scratches his skin when I feast on him.

"My balls are shriveling. How do you do it with a gremlin? Are you even biologically compatible?" Rami jokes. I push his feet off the armrest, forcing him to move while taking the seat next to him.

"You are a game designer, use your unstoppable imagination," I tell him.

"Thank you, Siri," he retorts with a gag. His robot, AI jokes are getting old.

I ignore him, answering a work text instead.

"Fuck, you're boring. Maybe I should revaluate Mr. Hyde. Let him come out, or do I need to poke you with a stick to see Bez?"

I can take over whenever the fuck I want, Bez sniffs. Why does everybody assume you're the strong one?

"You did that when we were teens already," Uri interjects in a flat tone. "The black eye on your face made you slightly interesting back then."

Rami raises his middle finger in the air, but Uri has turned toward the fireplace already.

"I remember that day." Linda smirks. "Bez was really pissed off."

"Ramiel, Uriel, can you leave us alone?" Meg suddenly asks my brothers.

"Why? Do you have more secrets to finally reveal?" Uri spits out. Whoever they were talking about affected him deeply.

"More like feelings and shit?" Rami suggests.

"Feelings? With Gabe? He's an emotional dumpster fire," Uri, the sociopath states.

Rami nods in agreement. "You're emotionally constipated, need to open up. Like a flower, and not the carnivorous ones that swallow whatever crawls on them."

"Ramiel, out! Uriel, there's more to discuss," Meg tells them.

"I have a donor to torture," Uri says on his way out without looking at her. "Gabe, I'll wait for you in the base."

I nod, but he's already gone. It's my turn to help him dispatch the corpse. It's been a few days since I killed, and my skin, now that I'm away from Lori, prickles with uneasiness again. It's incredible how he affects me and soothes me. His mare presence, solely, does it.

Rami huffs, but stands up. "Tell Bez to fuck off." The door closes behind him.

"What you were talking about before I arrived, is it related to all the times I helped you in the last few years?" I ask Linda. She came to me numerous times, asking me hypothetical legal questions or wanting favors from judges or the names of good lawyers in whatever city she was in.

"A few times," she replies. I won't pry. This is Uri's issue. I know how hard it is to live with a secret pressing on my shoulders. So I simply nod.

"You asked to talk to us. Is there something wrong? How are you doing?" Meg asks me, taking off her glasses and placing them on the coffee table separating us.

"The prickling sensation is bearable, even though I haven't killed in a week."

"You should be on burning embers." Linda is surprised since I need to kill quite often to stop the uneasiness.

"I've kept myself busy."

"Do you feel that same aggravating sensation when you're with Lori?" That's why Meg is a renown forensic psychiatrist, she's so perceptive and always knows where to look.

"No."

"Gabriel," she insists.

"I do when I can't be around him, when I can't touch him," I confess. Linda smirks at me, I can see multiple dirty comebacks in her eyes, but she remains silent.

"Does he keep you at a distance? Stop you?"

"Never," I answer Meg.

She nods and smiles. "Good. It was time you two got together."

I raise my brow at her.

"Come on. We could all see the sparks of lust between you two." Linda snorts.

"That was hate on his part and puzzlement on mine," I clarify.

"Linda annoyed me when we first met." Meg grabs her wife's hand. "And she couldn't stand me." Linda kisses Meg's head.

"Love and hate. Thin line." Linda winks.

I don't know if they're right. But one thing is certain: Lori caught my attention from day one.

"How's Bezaliel? Does he want to talk?" Meg asks.

Meg named us all after the Angels of Wrath, and when she found out about my alter, she gave him a name too, Bezaliel, the Angel of Shadow, living in the dark protected by God. She thought it was fitting, and Bez loved it.

Fuck no, no talking, is his rude answer to Meg's question, which I relate with a shake of my head.

"That's too bad. The troglodyte is fun." Of course, Linda likes him, she's a bloodthirsty, violence-lover. "He's the other side of you, and I miss him when he disappears for a long time."

Bez lets out a little grunt that makes Linda's lips curl. "I love you too, Bez."

"Does he come out?" It has been a long time since I've had therapy with Meg. I forgot how persistent she is.

"He does. Since I met Lori, he takes over more frequently. Should I be worried?"

"Does it bother you?"

"At first. He lets me out when I ask, so we are fine. He's…sharing."

Duh! You never wanted to share before, Bez huffs at me.

You wouldn't have.

I would, he insists. Maybe not. Who gives a fuck.

"What does Bezaliel want?" Linda interjects.

"Little Wasp," Bez growls. Hearing him Meg blinks, while Linda's lips part.

"He wants Lori," I explain.

"Fuck!" Linda looks at me in awe. She's never seen my multiplicity like a condition, more like a superpower. She's crazy like that, and one of the most accepting people I've ever met. With Lori. I still can't wrap my head around the fact that he didn't bat an eye at my multiplicity. On the contrary, he enjoys it.

"Heard you loud and clear, Bez," Meg announces. "The question is, do you want Lori as well, Gabe?"

"Yes," I admit.

"And does he want you boys?" Linda narrows her eyes at me, ready to strike Lori down if that's not the case.

My mouth twitches. "He reminds me of you a lot. Fighting tooth and nail, always scheming, so confident in his own skin."

"Right?" Meg says. "I told her the same when we met him."

"He's ready to be part of the family business," I tell them. "He even made a torture record book."

"Yea, that's pretty ingenious. Just keep that notebook locked somewhere safe, even though it is all in codes," Linda says. "Okay. I'll call him. I think he's ready for his one-on-one lessons. We can start next month," Linda declares with an eager tone.

"God help us all," I deadpan, because it doesn't seem wise to leave them alone together.

"Gabriel," Meg calls my name. "Do you remember when you used to hurt yourself, recreating some of the tortures you suffered to help you control yourself?" Strong lights, cold showers, and loud noises were what I used when I was thirteen.

Fun times , Bez says sarcastically.

"You wanted to get rid of Bez. You thought he was the reason why your mother was dead. That you were the reason since your mind created your alter. You wanted him to stop taking over. You were afraid he'd be, that you'd be the cause of someone else's death. Someone close to you."

Why is she digging up old stuff? I'd rather keep it in the past where it belongs.

"You didn't do it though. Didn't want to kill that part of yourself. Finally, you accepted it. Bez," Meg continues. "You've made such progress. Co-fronting was an amazing achievement. You have such an inner force. Just as firm a control on your emotions. Now that you're with Lori, I think you're letting go of that control, letting yourself go, letting yourself feel, and Bez likes that. That's why he's compromising with you and taking over more."

Is it? I do let go of my control when I'm with Lori. It doesn't seem so important anymore.

"What did I always tell you? Embrace yourself and be true to your own choices."

For fuck sake, a re we done with this shrink crap? Bez mutters.

"You chose Lori. Both of you. A throuple. I support it fully, boys!" Linda makes a weird face that I can't decipher, while Meg very unprofessionally rolls her eyes. But Linda does make her loosen up and smile like no one else can.

Does Lori do the same for me?

A while later, I'm entering the garage through the entrance attached to the house. Serena lets me know that Lori is still at home, and I want to get this donor thing over with to get back to him.

I kind of like your bro's level of ruthlessness with a donor, we can enjoy it before going back to our Little Wasp, Bez says.

You just want to be sure Lori will be asleep, so you can wake him up with your dick.

Two things I will enjoy.

Uri suddenly slides out from under his Hummer.

"Problems with your car?" I ask.

"Fucking Raph found the knife I took from him, and stole my spare tire."

I'd suggest to just get another spare tire, but this stupid game of hiding each other's stuff until the other finds it has been going on for years now, and nothing will ever stop them.

"I've got those contracts for your new restaurant ready—" I start telling him, but he cuts me off.

"Why do you keep him locked up? Bez. He doesn't go on rampages or fuck anything that moves unless it's Lori. So, why?" He's playing with his tongue piercing, rolling it over his lower lip.

My brothers have never asked me about my multiplicity. We don't talk about our issues among us. We have Meg or Linda for that. His sudden interest is odd. He doesn't really care since he's a sociopath. It must be curiosity.

"I can't lock him up. He's stronger and unpredictable."

"Isn't unpredictability a big part of our lives? We cannot control everything. I wish we fucking could." Pretty sure he's thinking about Sari and his new combative response to him.

"You need to get stabby and relax a bit, bro," he adds.

That I do, but I can clearly see the tension in his shoulders.

"You've met hundreds of annoying people. Why are you obsessed with Lori's particular brand?" Uri then asks me.

"Why are you so obsessed with Sari?" I flip the question on him.

"Why aren't you?"

"You want me to be?"

"Are you?" He's using an uninterested tone with a hint of murder.

"Really? Bez is so uninterested in this conversation that he's humming a fucking song."

"And you, Gabe?"

"I'm taken," I confess to stop this nonsense.

"Ah! I'm impressed by your honesty. So much that I'll let you stab the shithead a couple of times. I need a drink while you do it."

"We must still have a bottle of tequila in the fridge," I tell him, as he places his palm on the wall scanner. Serena welcomes him and the wall magically slides open, revealing the descending metal stairwell to the base.

When I get home three hours later, Lori doesn't welcome me from the sofa where he's usually reading or watching TV, nor from the kitchen making one of his salads. I like to see him barefoot in a comfy, baggy t-shirt, looking all snuggly when I open the door. He never fails to send me a smile or a flirty look. His glares make me want to fuck him until he screams my name and then cuddle him until he falls asleep.

What the fuck have you become, man? Bez mocks me.

Something in me calms knowing Lori is somewhere in my home, safe.

I walk to my bedroom and feel pleased when I can see the outline of his body under the sheets. He really followed my order.

I take off my clothes and slide in front of him. Bez is oddly still, not pushing me down to take what he wants. He's compromising, just like Meg said.

Lori is wearing one of my jackets again. He usually puts on the one I used the day before because it's covered in my scent. Whenever I come back home and find him dressed only in it, I know he needs me, that he needs to be fucked, to feel me close to him. All around him. So I haul him over my shoulder and pin him in the shower, letting him wrap his whole body around me while I take what's mine under the cascading water.

I decide to bathe in his dainty form for a minute. Shadows and lights interplay on each curve, angle, and edge, making him look almost ethereal. Exquisite. The lily scent. Those high cheeks. The upturned nose. I could drown in him.

His lips suddenly part, and he shifts, sliding closer to me until his palms flatten on my pecs like blazing coals. He nuzzles my neck, moaning in bliss after he takes a long inhale. Christ, how did my feelings change this fast? From wariness and curiosity, to fixation and craving. To obsession and possessiveness.

His tongue suddenly forms a wet, warm circle on my neck, and I can't resist him anymore.

My hands glide down his back, reaching his already slick, prepped hole, and with a smooth buck of my hips I thrust inside him.

He feels simply and utterly mine. Ours.

Bez and I make an inner promise that we'll do anything in our power to keep him with us, just before we lose ourself to him once again.