Three

three

GAbrIEL/BEZALIEL

Bez, you need to keep it together, I try to reason with him.

I had to leave my phone at the entrance of the club—something Rami didn't know about—and I have no way to contact my brothers. They know where I am thanks to the tracker I have under my skin behind my ear, but they don't know what is happening at the moment. I need to find a way to get Lori out of here, without putting him in harm's way. Which means I need some time.

Something Bez is clearly not agreeing with.

Fuck that, Gabe! Look what this motherfucker did to my Little Wasp. He's in pain, and the asshole is fucking enjoying it!

Bailey is standing near me with a devilish smile on his face, eyes on Lori's writhing body on the bed.

You can't punch your way out of this, Bez. Security is spread out all over the club. They'll stop us, and Lori won't have anybody to protect him in his weakened state.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuck! Bez growls inside my head.

Let me handle this.

I let you take over again, didn't I?

"You don't seem interested in what I gave you on a silver platter." Bailey is looking at me with calculating eyes. "Not yet anyway."

"Not yet?" I send a quick glance at the door. It's made of thick wood, I can't shoulder my way through, and it will take too long to pick the lock.

"The drug that he took," Bailey points at Lori, his amber eyes hazy and filled with pain, "you drank it as well, Mr. Reed. But I'm impressed by the way your body is resisting it. Soon though, you'll be as uninhibited and as horny as a dog in heat. And you'll give a spectacular show to some of our guests."

He glances at the large mirror occupying most of the wall to my left. It must be a two-way mirror like the one in the interrogation rooms in police stations. There are also two cameras mounted on the ceiling that I can see, maybe more.

Kill him! Or I'll do it. That surprises me. Bez hasn't killed in a long time—brawling is more his thing. I'm the one to take care of donors.

Not now, Bez. There are probably people behind that mirror already; they'll alert security. You know the drug won't have any effect on us. We can protect Lori.

"Why me?" I ask Bailey. "Is this a new member initiation?"

"Sort of. It could ruin your impeccable, arrogant reputation if a video of the imperturbable Gabriel Reed, out of his mind with lust and wildly nailing a screaming twink in a sex club, were to hit the internet." He gives me an evil smile, which, as the seconds pass by, falls slightly when I don't respond in any way to his useless threat.

So, this is how he got his enterprise going and secured his clients. He blackmails them, at least the most important ones, by taking videos of them with their pants down. Phil Bailey just got a place on my donor list—first place.

Bez's angry growl slips out, making Bailey back up one step.

A "fuck you" and then a moan rise from the bed, turning my attention to Lori again. His face is red, curls drenched in sweat, eyes firing at Bailey. He's on his side, both of his hands are under his black skirt, which has risen a little, showing part of his bare butt cheeks, but nothing more. He's clearly jerking himself off and more under the black leather.

His lower lip is bleeding, as he's biting into it repeatedly, his body is trembling with lust. My dick perks up once again, not at Lori's painful state, but the way he's trying to fight it. His body is controlled by the drug, but his mind is still trying to stop this. He's muffling his whimpers and moans while trying not to give those fuckers the show Bailey promised.

Little Wasp has spunk, Bez rumbles. I'll take care of this. Of him.

Bez, you can't fuck him, I try to reason with him.

He gave us the green light, Bez reminds me.

"You can't resist, twink." Bailey's words toward Lori bring me back to the room. "It's a losing battle. It'll only get worse unless you satisfy your lust. Sexual pleasure will halt the pain. Just ride the wave and enjoy the fucking. You want that don't you? To be fucked?"

"Yes, you wanker!" Lori breathes angrily out, as a moan leaves his mouth.

Damn, that's hot, Bez says.

And I'd agree with him if the situation wasn't so wrong.

"Pity that you chose him. I'd have enjoyed to abuse that round ass." Bailey's eyes slide all over Lori. "If you aren't in the mood yet, I'd be glad to give those slutty lips a ride."

This time, I'm the one replying, "No!"

"I guess the drug is starting to work, then," he sneers. I'll enjoy immensely turning him into a strainer.

I'll yank his insides out , Bez hisses.

"The lube and condoms are on that table. You'll be too far gone to care in a few minutes," he warns me, moving to the door. He lingers with his hand on the knob to add, "I'll be watching. Make it good for the other members, or the video goes live."

As soon as the door closes, I toss my jacket on the bed, grab the lube, and move toward Lori, letting Bez take over, but still alertly observing.

Finally!

Grab his boots and move him so that when you lie down on your side, your body is covering him from the two-way mirror, Gabe says.

I do as he says and also drape the sheets as best I can on top of him.

We can't do anything about the cameras, Gabe states , but I'm too taken by the sexy sight on the bed.

Little Wasp is going at it like a crazed animal, his hips pumping, riding his fingers, and fucking his hand fast and hard, just how I like it.

Sweat sticks his curls together, pushing them on one side. He's in pain but is stupidly trying to endure it. A tear slides down his face, and the effect is…devastatingly hot.

"Tell me where it hurts, Little Wasp," I growl.

He opens his watery eyes as more tears roll down. "Everywhere!"

"The motherfucker was right, stop struggling." He whimpers at my words but continues to hold my gaze for a long moment. And then he takes a deep breath and nods.

"Come on, we're waiting." The motherfucker's voice booms inside the room.

I turn my head back toward the two-way mirror and give it a death stare. "Enjoy your last hours on this earth, Bailey."

Scornful snickers follow my threat.

Gabe is a cold fucker when he ends someone, while I'm a burning nova and I'll turn those peeping assholes into piss and blood. Because nobody forces me to do something and lives to tell the tale—however enjoyable those things might be.

"Oh fuck!" Lori suddenly screams. "It hurts so bad, I can't. I can't by myself anymore," he cries. "Help me. I need, I need…"

"I'll give you what you need." I lower my hand to my pants and unzip them, taking my rock-hard cock out of my boxer briefs. I open the lube bottle and pour some on it, letting it roll down my shaft.

You can't fuck him! Gabe's flat voice resounds inside my head.

You're a fool, controlling yourself all this time, Gabe.

I haven't.

Denial is Gabe's favorite game, that's one of the reasons I exist—at least that's what Meg, his foster mother and shrink, says.

This is wrong, he adds.

He asked us to help him.

Lori is struggling to push his weird red underwear down, and I tug hard on it, tearing it off him.

You can still help him, Bez, without penetration.

Shut up! God, he's such a pain.

Don't forget the people watching. Protect Lori.

How can I forget those fucking perverts?

Little Wasp is moaning as he frantically humps my thigh, and I grab a handful of juicy, soft ass and squeeze while I shift him so that his dick is stroking over mine. I grab both—his is wet with cum—and start beating us off. And fuck, it feels so damn good.

"Yes! Please. I'm prepped, put it inside me." He talks like a bitch in heat while he licks my neck. His hot tongue leaves a wet path around my lobe before pulling the sensitive flesh inside that sinful mouth. Then he bites down hard as he shoots cum over my hand, our dicks, and his skirt. He keeps whimpering with his teeth still digging into my skin.

Such a horny little thing. He sets my fucking blood on fire. I've been wanting to fuck him from the first time I saw him. To fill the warmth of those cock-sucking lips and come down his throat. And now I finally can… Damn Gabe!

My Little Wasp's delicate arm is around my head, hand tightly gripping my hair, as the other is still pumping his fingers inside his ass.

"You taste so bloody good!" I can barely understand his words while his mouth is sucking my neck. His hips haven't stopped moving, and the eager way he's fucking into my hand, stroking against my cock, gives life to the perfect friction that will soon make me come.

"Want me to fill you?" I grunt, as my balls keep slapping against his. His ass cheek feels plump and meaty in my hand, I can't stop molding it. His curls are soft and damp against my cheek as he nods his head yes, like a bobblehead doll. He quickly pulls his fingers out and grips the bedsheet in a white-knuckled fist.

"Say it," I order him.

Gabe sniffs at me disapprovingly.

I'm taking advantage of the situation because that's what I always do. And I'm not fucking hurting anybody—will only give it to him good.

Gabe doesn't respond, but I know he likes this, even though he denies it.

I find Lori's nipple over his shirt and slightly pull, making him arch his body toward me and let out a slutty noise I want to hear again with my cock stuffing his mouth.

I thrust my dick up, rubbing it against his still hard one, and he practically yells, "I want your cock! All of it. Give it to me! Please!"

"You beg so pretty," I growl as I press three fingers inside his slick hole, past the first bit of resistance.

Lori moans loudly, "Ahh! Oh! Oh fuck! Fuuu-f-f-fuuuck m-me! Gabe! Gabeee?—"

I know you like him calling your name, Gabe. I'll let it go this time. Enjoy it, you fucker! I tell him, and he still refuses to talk. It doesn't matter. Because Little Wasp's walls are snug as hell around my fingers, I give them a hard thrust, and I'm all in.

Emboldened by his muffled whimpers, I add a fourth. That earns me another bite on my neck and a frantic motion of his hips, bouncing his plush ass so prettily and obscenely, fucking himself down onto my hand. With four fingers in, he's tight as a vise, but with no resistance at all. This is what I'm talking about.

I up the tempo of my hand around our cocks as I hear the slap, slap, slap sound of my palm hitting his slick ass every time I pump my fingers inside him.

"Squeeze that wet hole around my fingers, just like that. Fuck them harder. Take them all in." He's good at following my orders and has a dirty mouth, too. I knew he'd be a fantastic fuck.

"So full. Give it to me rough. Ahhh, I want you deeper."

I don't like those fuckers behind the mirror beating one off, hearing his moans; they're for me only. Mine. I grab a handful of his curls and push his head firmly against my shoulder. He responds straight away, biting me like a little vampire.

"You're stroking that pretty cock against mine so good. That's it. So fucking good," I growl low as his fuckable lips latch onto my skin. His restless tongue is tasting me like I'm his favorite meal. Just imagining it relentless, wet, and hot on my dick makes my balls draw up.

"Come for me." An order, not a request. One he's helpless to obey. He fucks himself back and forth two more times, and then falls apart so beautifully uninhibited in my arms. His scream of pleasure and pain is the hottest thing I've ever heard. More tears fall down his face, and I lick some of them away, enjoying the salty taste mixed with lilies.

His little nails suddenly dig into my back under my shirt, and I can't hold back anymore. The orgasm rips through me, and I spill hot cum all over our cocks. I continue pumping until the last drop shoots out.

Still nothing to say, Gabe? I didn't fuck him.

Stubborn dick. Like I cannot hear his thoughts.

My Little Wasp is still trembling when I'm done. But judging by the small smile on his lips, the pain has subsided again. His dick is still hard, and as I pull my fingers out of him, he whimpers and opens his eyes. They're hazy, but I don't see any trace of lust, only deep, post-orgasmic satisfaction.

He sighs, and then whispers a small, "Thank you," before lowering his eyelids and falling asleep. He must be exhausted after all the orgasms he's had.

My job here is done, but if Bailey comes near us again, I'll pound his face, I tell Gabe as I push back to let the silent dick come back out.

We need to get out of here, I tell Bez.

I quickly slide my cock back into my boxer briefs, and I'm wiping my hands on the silk sheet when my eyes fall on Lori.

He looks peaceful with his hand tucked under his cheek—and totally debauched. The sheet is covering him partially, but I can see his skirt bunched around his waist, revealing the enticing curve of his round backside and his pink, still clearly hard dick lying on the bed in a pool of our combined cum. The skin between his thighs is shiny with jizz. Bez's jizz.

When Bez has his sexual encounters, I do like to watch, but I've never felt like I wanted to be part of them. Like I wanted to share the experience with him.

A beeping sound suddenly pierces the air. The fire alarm.

I grab my jacket from the foot of the bed and place it over Lori's body after sliding my combat knife out of the hidden back pocket. I hear some commotion coming from outside the room, and then a heavy thump as the door bangs open. I instinctively move in front of Lori, blade ready in my hand. But Rague's huge bulk appears, followed by Ollie and Uri.

"Lori!" Ollie's scream rises over the loud beeping, and in the next second he's moving to get to him.

"He's asleep," I explain. Ollie looks frantic as he drops his own knife on the bed and lifts my jacket to discover Lori's level of undress.

"What the fuck happened to him?" he hisses, covering his friend once again.

"He was dosed. I took care of him," I simply state. Uri sends me an intense stare, while Ollie looks shocked by my words.

"He's breathing, Kitty," Rague tries to reassure his husband, placing a hand on his shoulder while sheathing the axe in the other on his side.

Uri is holding a gun in each hand and nods at me with understanding, making his long dreads wave with the movement. He exits the room, followed by Rague, who quickly comes back with a blanket in his hand.

"We need to go. They'll soon realize there's no fire," Rague states. Which means my brothers pulled the fire alarm lever to give us enough time to leave.

"They took our phones at the entrance. Call Rami, he needs to get a hold of the video they took of me and Lori," I tell Rague, taking the blanket from his hand.

"Video?" Uri asks, remaining at the threshold with his guns ready.

"The owner, Philip Bailey, wanted to blackmail me with a sex tape after he spiked our drinks."

"Fuck!" Rague cusses, stroking his bearded chin while he holds his phone near his ear.

Ollie helps me wrap the blanket around Lori's limp body. "Rague, you need to carry Lori," he tells his husband.

Nobody will touch him. The thought forms quickly inside my head as the words come out of my mouth before I can even form them in my head. "I'll do it." I hand Ollie my blade and slide both arms under Lori's body, lifting him easily into my hold. He nuzzles his face against my chest while taking a long, contented breath, but doesn't open his eyes. Ollie looks quizzically at his friend and then me, but doesn't say anything.

Rague is still on the phone with Rami, explaining to him what he needs to do; Uri is covering the door. My holding Lori is just a practical decision since we need to get moving.

Riiiight. I ignore Bez's sarcastic drawl.

After a few more seconds, with Uri in the lead and Ollie and Rague in the back, we walk out. I look through the open door inside the next room. I can see the other side of the two-way mirror displaying the red bed covered in mine and Lori's cum. A long sofa, three chairs—one tipped over on the floor—are facing the glass wall, and a table filled with lube and self-pleasure toys—some clearly used—is in the corner near a bar.

"There's no recording device in here. They must have it in another room," Uri states. "A gallery room is normal in a sex club."

"What the fuck?" I hear Rague growl as he understands the meaning of Uri's words.

"Bailey chose the room for us," I say. "He wanted to give some other clients a show."

"He's a dead man walking! When Lori wakes up, he'll cut his balls off and give them to Wednesday for lunch!" Ollie adds with a fury in his voice I've never heard before.

Wednesday?

My Little Wasp couldn't have a friend without fire, Bez chuckles.

Your Little Wasp? I'm confused by his possessive tone.

"Who's Wednesday?" Uri asks. But an angry shout coming from not so far away mutes my inner and the outer conversations.

Uri signals me with a wave of his hand, and I start following him again.

"Rami sent me the blueprint of the place. This way," my brother whispers. We enter a messy kitchen, passing by the multiple stainless steel stoves and the counters filled with half-cooked dishes and dirty pots. We cross a deserted staff-only locker room and exit through the back door.

The fresh air of the night welcomes us outside. Two waitresses are standing twenty feet away on the opposite sidewalk, too busy talking among themselves as we hurriedly walk away.

Uri takes two steps away from us when Rague asks him where he's going. "Phones," is Uri's short reply, before he rounds the building.

"Hunter and Rami will be here soon to take care of the recording in case Serena can't hack their security. Michael is driving toward our place. He needs to check out both of you," Rague says as we reach his pickup.

"Lori needs to go to the hospital," I argue.

"No. Lori hates hospitals." Ollie opens the rear passenger door, and I slide inside, still holding Lori in my arms. Ollie opens his mouth with a frown on his face, but I cut off whatever he's about to say. "Keep Rague in check." My brother doesn't look particularly angry, but Ollie knows what happens when his husband loses it.

He gives me a long, studying stare with those green eyes, but then does what I say and climbs into the front passenger seat.

"Here." He hands me a sport drink after placing our knives in a black duffle bag. "You need to hydrate." I don't but I grab it and place it in the cup holder in case Lori wakes up thirsty.

"I didn't use my Molotov cocktail," I hear Rague grumble. He loves fire, so much that he wants to add a crematorium to the base to burn the donors' corpses instead of melting them inside acid as we usually do.

"Not using your cocktail is a good thing, Beastie, not a bad one," Ollie reminds his husband.

Rague starts the truck just as Uri opens the back door and slides in next to me. He waves a hand holding my cell phone and Lori's in the air. "Go!"

My brother doesn't make him say it twice and quickly drives us out of there.

"Everything went smooth?" Rague asks him.

"Bailey is gone. Heard the manager talking about it on the phone. I incapacitated the bouncer to get to the phones, but Thelma and Louise didn't have their fun tonight." Uri pats his jacket pockets, grumbling unhappily about not using his girls—his guns.

Your brothers are idiots . Bez once again lets me know how much he dislikes my family.

Ollie's eyes keep checking on Lori through the rearview mirror. He's sleeping, his heart beating steadily under my hand. His slow breath feels warm against my white shirt-clad chest.

"I shouldn't have let him go inside the club!" Ollie suddenly hisses.

"Like you can stop Gremlin from doing anything," Uri snorts.

"Kitty, you tried. Lori is too stubborn to listen to anyone." Rague's large hand falls on his husband's much smaller one and starts caressing it.

"Then we should have gotten inside sooner! I can't believe we stopped to get you coffee, you dick!" Ollie turns to Uri.

My sociopathic brother shrugs. "Gremlin knew the score when he decided to enter the club. He was lucky Gabe helped him. Any of those shitheads could have had their turn with him."

"Fuck!" Ollie cries.

"Shut the fuck up, Uri!" Rague growls.

Isn't Ollie supposed to keep Rague calm? Bez sniffs.

"You know I'm right," Uri insists.

"Shut up!" Bez decides to interject. "You'll wake him up. And he needs sleep."

There's a moment of silence before a slow smirk appears on Uri's face. "Oh, hello, Bezaliel. It's been a while."

Bez pulls back again. He rarely communicates with my foster family since he doesn't think much of them.

"Who's Bezaliel?" Ollie's watery voice sounds confused. "And why do you sound different?" he asks me.

Rague sends me a look through the rearview mirror before focusing on the road again.

I turn toward the window, not wanting to get into my multiplicity condition at the moment. Lori chooses that moment to shift in my lap, snuggling closer to me. I don't hate it as much as I thought I would.

"Bez is Gabe's other personality," Rague tries to clarify. It makes me sigh.

"His other what?" Ollie looks puzzled, and that's why I don't divulge the fact that I have an alter to people. Because I have to defend myself against a multitude of dull and incredibly personal questions. Not that I usually advertise Bez in any way.

"Gabe has another tenant living inside his head," Uri adds. He's always seen my multiplicity like a game—Rami as well. When we were kids, they used to take every opportunity to make me feel in danger to trigger the switch between me and Bez and make him come out. After years of therapy, my condition improved, and nowadays, we co-front with Bez mostly in the background. A few inner comments and a couple of quickies a month are all he needs…until recently.

I have a feeling I'm going to come out and play more in the future , Bez lets me know as my eyes fall on the head of messy, brown curls against my suit vest. My cock perks up following Bez's line of filthy thoughts. What does that mean?

Ollie is staring at me with a dumbfounded look. His mouth keeps opening and closing like he's not sure what to ask next. Then he unfortunately finds the words. "Are you a schizophrenic? Like that guy in that movie with the little girl inside of him?"

"Symptoms of Schizophrenia are delusion, hallucinations, disorganized speech, and trouble with thinking, not split personalities," Uri intervenes with a bored tone. "Most movies get it wrong."

"I'll explain it to you later, Kitty," Rague says. I'm not surprised my brother never told him. I don't like people to know. It bores me when they start treating me differently because of my multiplicity.

"Okay. Yeah. Sorry. Let's focus on what happened. What did he go through inside that club, Gabe?" Ollie stares right at me, looking tense.

"I suspect they slipped the drug into our champagne flutes," I say.

"So why are you all controlled-looking, while it seems like Lori went through a blender?" Ollie asks me, irritation filling his voice.

"More like he rode the blender," Uri mumbles, then raises his voice. "Gabe is just being his unfazed, emotionless self. Bez on the other hand…"

I interrupt him and answer Ollie's question. "He downed his glass of champagne, which I presume contained the drug, while I barely took a sip."

"Did anyone else—" Ollie takes a big breath before continuing, "—touch him?"

I shake my head at him. His sigh is filled with relief, but his lips are still stretched in a long line. He takes a big breath, and then asks me, "You… did you and him…?"

Uri's phone starts ringing, cutting Ollie off.

"It's Sari," he says with a frown before answering. "Are you okay? Are you sure? Yes. In the car. He's sleeping. Where are you? No. Yes, I do. Fine." Uri lets out the last word with an annoyed huff, then moves the phone away from his ear and pushes the speaker button.

"Gabe? How do you feel? Any sign that the drug is affecting you?" Sari's worried voice fills the car.

"No," I reply succinctly.

"Good. When you get to Rague's, Michael will take a sample of your blood—it should still have traces of the drug—and he'll inject Lori with a sedative. It'll keep him under until the drug is mostly out of his system. Is he okay?"

"He seems fine. He was lucky Gabe was there." Ollie grits his teeth and turns his head again toward the windshield.

"Yes, he was," Sari agrees. He's the sweetest among us brothers, but I've wondered a few times if he hides everything balled up inside. Because none of us exited unscathed from those torturous years of imprisonment.

"I changed my return flight. I'll be back tonight." Uri's body tenses slightly with Sari's statement.

"Odd you're not with him," Rague taunts Uri. Because where Sari goes, usually Uri follows. Even though something has changed lately between them. I don't care enough to ask, though.

That makes two of us , Bez adds. But I bet my Little Wasp would be all over it.

Lori definitely would.

"Send me the flight number. I'll pick you up," Uri says.

"No need," Sari answers quickly. Him saying no to Uri, that's definitely new.

Uri taps the speaker off and starts a heated exchange with Sari, which halts the moment Lori's loud moan resounds inside the car.

His eyes are squeezed shut, and his hands turn into fists gripping my vest and shirt. Lori is sharp sassiness and cutting sarcasm wrapped in a pretty package; I don't like seeing him this defenseless and suffering. It strikes an odd chord inside me.

He's writhing on my lap, stroking his hands over my chest, face nuzzling my pec.

"It hurts," he cries.

"Lori!" Ollie calls him, but he doesn't seem to hear.

"Fuck!" Rague cusses. "I shouldn't have used all the tranquilizer on Gabe's donor this afternoon! We could have given some to Lori." We usually use it on the donors to keep them docile as we take them to the base.

"Rague did a great job on your donor, though," Uri lets me know. I'm glad to hear that.

Lori's scream of pain fills the car, and he abruptly arches his body toward the cabin's ceiling, looking like he's been electrocuted.

"Oh, God! He…" Ollie doesn't finish the sentence as his eyes follow Lori's hand sliding under the blanket and starting to move.

"Pull into that parking garage and drive to the roof," Uri orders Rague, not looking bothered in the least. "He needs to be fucked. Are you up for it?" he then asks me.

"Jesus!" Ollie curses, looking uneasily at me and then Lori. "Maybe I should?—"

Rague cuts him off with a low growl. "No fucking way."

"Lori needs a friend to take care of him not…his boss," Ollie argues.

Rague grabs his neck and pulls him closer to him. "Nobody touches you, Kitty. No one but me. Don't you forget who you belong to."

Lori moans as his hand finds its way under my shirt to my bare skin. His lips are on my neck once again, letting out sexy sounds. The wiggling of his ass has turned my cock into stone, and Bez is unusually quiet.

"He doesn't need a friend, just a dick to bounce on. And Gabe is a real dick." Uri's crass words earn a snarky reply from Ollie and they start arguing.

Bez?

Too tired. You need to take this one, Gabe.

Tired? The same guy that fucked two men until dawn in that dingy motel room only two months ago?

"If you don't, I will." Uri's clipped voice suddenly brings me back to them. The idea of his hands on Lori makes the itching sensation come back all over my body. When did it stop?

"You and Uri are the single ones here," Rague states, with Ollie sitting on his lap. "And you can definitely get it up for him."

I've never held very tightly to the idea that I'm straight. I've never cared much about labels. Never wasted the time to think about it. But I also never really noticed a guy's ass before. Then Lori entered my life and wiggled his on my lap, and now my dick is taking notice.

"Of course he can," Uri states. Then he sighs when I don't say anything. "Give him to me."

He's outstretching his arms toward a wiggling Lori when I bark, "Get. Out!"

Uri smirks smugly at me, but nods and gets out. "I saw a Starbucks on the other side of the road, I'll keep an eye on this place through Serena." He points at the camera on the wall on the left. "Call when you're done." He tosses my phone on the seat near me and closes the car door.

"Please…take care of him." Ollie turns a pleading look at me before Rague pulls him out of the car.

As soon I hear the click of the door, Lori cries, "I de-serve th-this. I deserve it." He whimpers miserably as tears roll down his face. The makeup smeared on his face trails down his cheeks in black and green streaks.

I don't know what he's talking about, I could ask him but instead I say, "Take the pain away, Lori."

I've never seen anyone move so fast. Between one blink and another, he throws the blanket, my jacket, and his shirt off him and shifts to climb on my lap, straddling me gorgeously naked except for his skirt all bunched up around his waist. His mouth latches onto my neck as he starts humping me, shoving his hips against me, his bare, dripping cock stabbing my stomach as he rides my thigh. His hands roam all over me, tearing at my clothes, ripping buttons, ruining expensive fabrics, until he can touch my bare skin. And damn, it feels good.

"You're so bloody perfect." His cloudy eyes zero in on my defined pecs and the light blond hair covering them. His arms wrap around my neck, and then he starts rubbing our chests together. It's like he's trying to squirm even closer to me, which isn't possible.

I grab his hips while I attempt to keep my head clear, but find it difficult with such an eager partner moaning so desperately against me.

Stop fighting it, Gabe. Let go and damn enjoy it, Bez suddenly tells me, moving my hands on Lori's ass, clutching it in a possessive grasp. Damn, I hate when he moves me like a puppet, but Lori's butt cheeks feel so soft and plump under my palms. I squeeze them a little harder, liking Lori's increasing moans.

"Yes! Gabe. Cock. Want your cock. I'll sit on it and take it all inside me." His fingers fumble with my pants. He unzips them, and then takes my hard shaft out.

He looks absolutely intoxicated as he licks his palm and starts jerking me off. Damn, his hands are small, but soft and skilled. A low grunt slips out of my mouth as his hips continue jerking and seeking friction.

"Such a beautiful cock," he mumbles deliriously."Want you to fuck my face with it, fill my hole with your cum, spread it all over me."

Bez growls, or maybe I do, because, fuck, Lori is pushing all the right buttons.

He suddenly stops, lifts his hips up, and spits on my cockhead as he lines it up with his entrance.

"Lori, wait. I can use my fingers—" He doesn't let me finish and drops himself hard onto my cock.

"Fuuuuck," he screams, head thrown back, hard nipples pointing at me, and dick spurting cum all over my stomach. "Yes! Yes. Yeeees." He's coming from only the feel of my length inside him. This drug is more potent than I thought. And although I know it's wrong, I can't stop feeling so damn aroused by the sight of Lori orgasming around me, squeezing his walls, strangling my bare cock in a vise.

Bare. No condom.

Yep, too late now! It feels fucking amazing , Bez growls.

I've never had sex without one, and always convinced Bez to use protection. But barebacking does feel damn incredible.

Lori is limp in my arms, but I can feel him still hard against my belly. His tiny, warm body feels good on top of mine.

I grit my teeth, breathing shallowly against the tight pressure around my shaft. But he took me inside so easily. Bez's fingers did that, molded a space inside Lori that was meant for my cock to fill. For me.

"You're in. All the way in. Deep. I'm full of your dick." Lori's words sound slurred and hot against my neck. He's twisting his hips like he's trying to get me even deeper. Then he rises on his knees until only my cockhead is in and slams down, taking all of it.

Fuuuck! It feels amazing, like never before. And he does it again. And again. And again.

I use my grip on his butt cheeks to hold on while I start fucking upward into him.

"I want to savor you until I get to the center of you," he says mindlessly, lapping at my neck like he's drunk on the taste of my skin.

"Lori," I breathe out, tightening my grip.

"Gabe! Do me harder." His eyes roll back in his head as he ups the tempo to a frenetic one, and I groan. I can't stop groaning as he rides me like a cock addict. His hands lift from around my neck and above his head to the car ceiling. He pushes his palms against it to give his bouncing ass more speed.

"Gabe! I'm so stretched, it stings so good." Moans and cries continue to flow out of him, and my eyes can't stop sliding over his slender, hairless body—the golden smooth skin, the small, pink nipples hard as diamonds. I move, and my mouth closes on one, sucking the tight bud between my lips. He tastes like lilies all over.

He shifts slightly again, gasping at the movements our bodies are making. "Right there!" He moans, hammering his hips up and down, using my dick to hit that spot inside him. "Love your dick. It's so long."

His cock is begging for a touch, all red and leaking profusely. His hand wraps around it, and he starts beating it off with desperation.

Each sound of our skin connecting, each noise he makes, fuels the next push, the next thrust. I need to come even though my instinct is to get more of this wild pleasure.

Like he's reading my mind, he tells me, "Come inside me, stuff me with all that hot jizz."

I can clearly see the obscene pleasure he's feeling on his face, it makes my body burn with more desire. Especially when another orgasm overwhelms him, and his pucker starts convulsing around me, milking me for all I've got. My balls draw up as a burst of pleasure zings through me, reaching my shooting dick. But I can't release inside him. Not when I'm not sure if he really wants it or it's just the drug talking. I grab his hips with the intentions of pulling out, but Lori anchors his thighs around me, hips pushing firmly down my lap. His grip on my shoulders turns bruising as he squeezes my cock in a strangling vise pushing me all the way in, deep, deeper into his body. It feels like fucking heaven. I can't fight it, I don't want to and with a long groan I pour all my ecstasy inside him. Rope after rope of thick, warm cum fill him.

Damn , is all Bez says, and it actually describes the moment perfectly.

My hands move to his thighs, and I let my head fall back on the headrest. My cock is still jerking inside his clenching channel as Lori makes slow, enticing circles with his body. The drug has made him so damn insatiable.

"Mmm," he lets out a satisfied noise. His mouth is at it again, slicking the skin on my shoulder, sinking those small, sharp teeth in. I groan at the sting, liking it a little too much. His hands find their way under my half-open shirt, scratching my back with those little nails. My cock is still hard inside him, which could indicate that the drug had some kind of effect on my body as well, keeping me ready for another round.

Lori pulls back his flushed face, a small smile on his big, puffed lips. Looking straight into my eyes with his ash brown ones, he slurs, "I've only ever felt at ease with three people in my life: Ollie, Sully-doo, and my…gran. And now, you blokes. You make me believe I have a place where I can be…without feeling the fire of hell reaching for my feet for what I've done." He ends in a whisper.

I have to tell Rami that the drug doesn't only cause pain and exponentially increase people's sex drive, but also loosens their tongues.

"What have you done, Lori?" In his mind, it's something bad since he talked about hellfire. Whatever it is, it must be the reason why he accepted our vigilante justice so easily.

Lori lowers his head, and his messy caramel curls fall into his eyes, hiding his open gaze to me. A lonely tear falls down his cheek, and he wipes it away with his fingers as he shakes his head. I realize my hands are stroking his legs with slow circular movements when his fingers lace with mine. Huh. Touching him, being touched by him…I don't dislike it.

He lifts his head again, his gaze is glazed, his teeth are digging into that dip on his lower lip, and his hips are lifting again. His eyes don't leave mine as he rides me, slowly this time, like he's savoring me inside of him.

This feels different. More intimate, and I don't do intimate. His pupils are still blown, and I can see he's trying to drown the pain with pleasure, but he looks more aware. Of me. His nails suddenly sink into my pecs, and I push his thighs further apart and start fucking into him, earning a long moan. My cock is sliding so damn perfectly through his tight, wet opening, drenched with my cum. The thought makes me speed up. The loud slurping sounds his pucker is making around me are so fucking hot. My gaze focuses on the mole on his upper lip, and I feel the urge to lick it.

Do it , Bez orders me.

I suddenly tighten my grip on his thighs and urge Lori off me. He loses his balance and ends up on his side on the car seat, crying out his disappointment. I turn him on his stomach and lift his hips, then position myself behind him, near the curve of his ass. He pushes his face into the leather seat and brings his arms back, parting his cheeks with his hands, revealing that pink, cum-slicked, gaping place between. It's a filthy sight, and I've never felt more turned on in my life.

My cockhead pushes against the soft, dripping entrance and slides inside, so fucking beautifully. The puckered ring surrenders to the pressure and stretches around me until I'm fully sheathed again.

Nothing in the world has ever felt this good. Looked this good. Been this good.

Lori lets out a soft, pained little whimper, and all I can think about is how to induce that sound again. A roll of my hips and a hard thrust, and there it is again slipping from his lips. Roll, thrust, whimper. Roll, thrust, whimper. My balls are full and heavy again, and I haven't even given him a proper fuck.

I quickly slide off my vest and shirt, and then, gripping his waist, I start pounding into him.

"Gabe! God, yessss. Take me. Use me. Ahhhh. Give me that big, long cock. Fuck my ass," he cries, bucking his hips back toward me, falling in perfect sync with me.

I drop over his body, catching myself on one hand, and my nose dives into his soft hair, getting a lungful of sweet lilies and Lori's more intimate scent. This need to be near him is odd, but now is not the time to analyze it.

I pull out and shush his desperate moan by ramming forward, sending my cock back deep inside him. My balls make spanking noises against his ass as I drill him into the car seat.

"So. Fucking. Good," he slurs. "Don't ever stop!"

I don't know if I'll ever be able to. I don't have much control left over myself.

For the first time in my life, though, I don't care.

Ollie opens the door to the guest room at his house, and I enter with a half-asleep Lori in my arms. He's wrapped around me, nuzzling my cheek, rubbing his head against the side of mine like a cat. My hands are under his backside, holding him up. He's enveloped in the blanket again, but I can feel his softening dick pressing against my stomach. The sedative Michael gave him when we arrived a minute ago is slowly taking effect.

I lay my knee on the blue bedsheet and lean toward the mattress to deposit Lori on it. My brain screams at me in protest as I gently lower him. Lori squeezes me against his body for a second, like he doesn't want to part from me as well, before letting his arms and legs drop heavily onto the bed.

I'm moving back when his capricious eyes open, showing only a ring of chestnut brown around his dilated pupils. "Gabe?" he calls, and a wave of protectiveness hits me.

It's hard not to drag him into my arms again, but I manage it. Just, as Bez disagrees with me.

Michael needs to check him, I remind him.

He can do it from your lap! Bez snarls.

I'm thinking that he actually could when Ollie unwraps the blanket, revealing Lori's body covered only in my jacket, sweat, and cum, looking all well-fucked. His black skirt is still twisted around his waist. Ollie pulls it off him, but when he tries to unbutton my jacket Lori swats his hands away.

"Shouldn't the sedative have worked by now?" Ollie turns to Michael. He's near a round, small table, a rigid metal case open on the wooden surface. He's taking out a bunch of medical stuff under the attentive gaze of his husband, Raph.

"Give it another minute. I didn't inject much, since Sari told me that the drug usually knocks people out once the effect is gone."

"How do we know the effect is gone?" Raph asks.

Uri appears on the threshold, twirling his knife between his fingers. "Gabe went at him for almost two hours in the car. Ollie kept asking me to check on them with Serena to see if they were still alive. And they certainly were," he scoffs, sending me a knowing look.

I haven't felt the urge to punch one of my brothers in a long time. Usually it's Bez suggesting it, but this time, it's all me.

"He pushed Ollie's hands away when he tried to take off his jacket. If he was still under the effect of the drug he'd have enjoyed the touch," Michael explains. "Shouldn't we call his family?" he then asks Ollie, as Rague walks into the room with a bowl full of water and some towels.

"He doesn't have anybody, but us."

"The gran he always talks about," Raph adds in a bored tone. He doesn't care about anything but his husband—and I use the word "care" loosely since he's a psychopath—but he has an eidetic memory. So, he remembers nearly everything he sees.

"His gran…died," Ollie explains.

There's a catch in Ollie's words, the pause before the word died tells me there's more to it. Is that why Lori hates hospitals?

"I need a sample of your blood." Michael cuts off my train of thought, pointing me to the chair near the table. I know he needs it to see if we can identify the components of the drug, but I can't tear myself away from the bed. From Lori.

We need to be sure he's fine, Bez tells me. And maybe he's on to something because the idea of leaving him brings the uneasiness back, slithering under my skin. Being with Lori strangely took it away.

Ollie is trying to clean Lori's face with a towel, but he keeps jerking away every time the damp fabric brushes against his skin.

"Lori, you need to stay still," I say, and suddenly his body relaxes against the bed and pillow.

"Interesting," Michael breathes out.

"Not really," Raph and Uri say at the same time, the former lifts his eyebrow while the latter leaves the room.

"It is. Although we know very well Lori's feelings toward Gabe, in his delirious state and because of the circumstances they shared, he feels safe near him at the moment," Michael explains, as he starts checking on Lori. He takes a blood sample from him and then attaches an IV drip.

Lori keeps sleeping, not showing any sign of discomfort.

"I need to draw your blood now," Michael reminds me. I reluctantly move to the table to let him do it. Eyes never leaving the unmoving figure on the bed. When he's done, he pushes a cotton ball to the needle site, and then gathers his things before leaving with Raph.

It's me and Ollie in the room now. Only a few short hours of complete nightfall remain before the pending sunrise. It doesn't bother me. Insomnia has always been my faithful companion.

"You can take a shower if you want." Ollie's tired voice comes from the foot of the bed where he's sitting. His hand is on top of the sheet covering Lori's foot.

I nod, but I still don't move, standing near the table on the other side of the room.

"He won't wake up for a while and…" He sighs. "I think, maybe it would be better if you leave. Don't know how he'll react to seeing you after…what happened."

"Because he dislikes me and would've never had sex with me if he wasn't drugged," I finish his line of thinking.

"More or less." Ollie slowly nods, looking all guilty.

Fuck that! My Little Wasp wants us! Bez strongly disagrees.

He didn't when he was sane. The fact that he asked for my help doesn't mean anything.

Bez snorts derisively at me, like he knows something I don't. If he really hated you, he'd have preferred a stranger to you.

He still dislikes me and won't be happy to see me. The thought turns my muscles tense as my gut twists painfully. I know I have to leave. This is getting out of control.

Every step I take toward the door makes my skin itch, but I keep pushing forward.

Ollie's voice halts my steps, and I turn toward him. "Gabe, thank you for what you did. You saved my friend. I owe you."

My eyes fall on Lori. The lamp on the nightstand is illuminating his red cheeks and swollen lips. I'm still studying the way his hair curls at his neck and how his face looks so much younger without any makeup when Ollie calls my name again.

I fight hard to move my gaze to him. When I do, I remain silent. He doesn't owe me anything. I'd have done it for anybody in our family.

But would you have enjoyed it that much? Bez's rhetorical question makes me turn around and leave the room.

In the living room, Michael jumps off Raph's lap when he sees me advancing. He takes two steps away from the dining table in my direction.

"You need the IV as well."

"No, I don't," I tell him, moving toward the front door.

"The saline bag will flush out the rest of the drug you still have in your body," he insists, making me stop. Maybe it will help with the weird sensations I'm feeling.

Sure! Bez mocks me.

"Give me one to go." Michael frowns at my words but prepares a bag with all the necessary items and hands it to me. "Any news from Rami?" I ask Rague.

He's making pancakes in the open-concept kitchen. He renovated this old cottage in the middle of nowhere all by himself and did a great job. It surely helps that he owns a construction and demolition company with Ollie.

"Bailey left the club in a black BMW. Serena found it in an alley. No sign of Bailey, but she's on it. Rami got the video of you and Lori from the club, though."

I nod and ask for the keys to his car. He points to the bowl by the entrance, and I grab them before going for the door again.

"Don't you want something to eat? You need to regain your strength," I hear Michael say from behind me.

"No," I simply reply, closing the door behind me.

Why are we fucking leaving? Bez hisses at me. Those pancakes smelled good.

If you want to stay so much, why aren ' t you stopping me? He's stronger than me, can easily force our body to stay.

Because I know you need your fucking time to accept what is already obvious , he huffs.

We'll stop at a drive-through on the way home , I try to placate him. I'm not in the fucking mood, and he knows it.

Inside the garage, the red Suzuki Jimny that Rague bought Sully is parked near his company pickup. I quickly get in, and a minute later, I'm driving toward the Fulton River District and my apartment. At a red light, I check my phone. There are multiple texts from work that I'll check later, one voicemail from Evelyn telling me she found a new temp PA, and several missed calls from Linda, my foster mother.

I find Rami's contact and call him, placing my phone in the cupholder as the light changes to green.

"Yo!" he answers after a single ring. "You okay? No rusty parts, no bolts in need of a changing?"

I ignore his taunting. "Lori's grandmother."

"What about her?" he asks, and then I hear him cussing through the line before saying, "George, you scared the shit out of me!" That's Dare's pet snake. When Rami moved in with Hunter, he also started living with the triplets, the eighteen-year-olds: Ash, Ren, and Dare. Hunter took them and their pets in a couple of years back.

I wait for him to stop swearing. "How did she die?"

"And why so curious about Lori's life all of a sudden, C-3PO?"

I know my silence drives him crazier than any response.

"I don't have time for this now, need some sleep before Grizzly decides to go at my ass again." Rami always shares too much for my liking. "She had cancer. Died soon after she was diagnosed. Lori and she were pretty close. She raised him," he surrenders easily.

"At what hospital did she die?"

"In her apartment. Some terminal cancer patients prefer to share their last moments in familiar surroundings."

There's nothing fishy about it. Maybe Ollie's odd wording was caused by worry for his friend. And Lori's guilty conscience could be related to something else he did.

Don't care. Hungry , my caveman alter reminds me.

"I want to know who the people in that gallery room at the club were," I tell him.

"Do you want to go all knife-y on them?"

Lori's agonized, twisted face appears in front of my eyes for a moment as I remember the snickers coming from the gallery.

"Yes," I say matter-of-factly.

"Wow. Okay. How about the sex video?" Rami suddenly asks.

"Fucking burn it!" Bez replies. His overtaking maneuvers are increasing, and after years of steady balance, it's unsettling to say the least.

I've never been very fond of change, even though it is the only constant in life. I'm very aware that nothing can stay the same. Things eventually morph into something different. But changes in my condition? I have a strong feeling that Lori Boone has the power to turn our life upside down.

And we're getting there , Bez growls.

"Bez?" Rami asks in a shocked tone. "How have you been, you careless fucker?"

"Fuck. You," Bez replies in an almost bored tone.

"Same old, same old, then," Rami snorts.

"Burn the video, Rami," I order him.

I hang up, pushing the button on my phone a little too hard as I turn into the diner drive-through. After getting a coffee and some waffles, I drive the last twenty minutes with the window down, enjoying the summer night air. I stop the car inside the underground parking garage of my building. The elevator ride to my apartment is spent thinking about another parking garage and the guy who assaulted Lori there.

Rami said that the security cameras were down—since I'm changing them—so Serena couldn't track the guy outside the building when he ran off. It seems a little too convenient.

Who was he? Bez asks, strangely interested.

Lori said he didn't know him , I remind him. And we have never seen him either.

A prospective client?

I take the few steps to my apartment door when the elevator reaches the thirty-fifth floor and place my hand on the panel next to it, letting Serena read it. Rami installed security systems in all our homes. His level of overprotectiveness got worse once Phoenix entered the picture.

Serena's voice welcomes me as I step inside. I drop the car keys on the small table in the entrance and remind myself to have my new temp PA return it to Rague's house later as I walk the short corridor that opens into a large living room.

I go straight to the sideboard, dropping the bag Michael gave me on the light brown sofa. I toss the empty to-go coffee cup and the crumpled paper bag in the small wastebasket, and I pour some whiskey into one of the up-side-down glasses. The liquid trails down my throat, leaving a familiar burning path that slightly assuages the uneasiness that hasn't left me since I walked out of Lori's room.

I feel sticky and sweaty as I make my way to the bathroom. The lights turn on as I move, a new apartment feature Remi brought with Serena.

The mirror reflects my tired face and rumpled blond hair. My shirt is open and wrinkled, my vest is missing buttons and has a dark wet spot where Lori drooled on me. My neck and chest are covered in marks.

None of my previous partners have ever left hickeys on me. As I keep looking at them, the restlessness lessens and the desire to pin Lori face down and fuck him unconscious increases. No drug involved this time.

Damn it. My cock plumps all the way up at the image forming inside my head. I need to take a shower and start that IV drip, hoping it will rid me of these impulses together with the remnants of the drug.

Good luck! Bez's sarcasm doesn't go unnoticed.

I quickly undress and slide inside the large shower stall. I let the multiple jets hit me as the water rolls down my body, washing away Lori's scent from my skin. My hand wraps around my shaft, and it's not Bez moving it this time. It's like an untamed part of me has found its way out. A part I'd pushed down many years ago.

My fingers squeeze the head and then glide down the whole length. My balls are full again and tingling already. I start to beat myself off, it hurts since I've come too many times already tonight, but I don't stop.

I come in under a minute with a low groan leaving my lips and dirty thoughts of Lori Boone filling my head.