13. Asher

THIRTEEN

Fuck.My. Life.

Walking like a normal person around the house was a bigger challenge than I had expected. My ass was constantly warm and tingly in all the best ways. The ghosts of pain showed themselves when I had to sit down for dinner and the surprise I felt at the sensation took my breath away.

With Jordan sitting across from me and Mom and George flanking me, I felt like all eyes were on me, reading the subtle expressions that spelled it out clear as day: I had my ass wrecked by the rough beast that was now staring at me and licking his fingers with delight. And yet, despite doing my best to push those thoughts from my mind and my face, I couldn't stop the welling desire for another round with Jordan. He was too good, too perfectly fitting my needs, and too accurately dominant in a way my slightly submissive streak adored. It was a trait I would never show to anyone in my daily life. I was a strong, independent guy as far as everyone was concerned. And yet I liked getting owned and fucked for my lover's greatest pleasure.

My gaze moved between Mom and George without being suspicious. You'd tear this apart, I thought, almost bristling as that crossed my mind. It turned into a sort of mental game. Which one of them would pull the trigger if they found out? Which one would demand we stop? Which one would hurt more? George was a passionate person at times. He felt things strongly, even if it was unpredictable. My mother had always been progressive, but I wondered if her mind was open enough to accept that stepbrothers could develop feelings for each other. It wasn't like we had actually grown up together. Then again, both our parents had done a lot of work of convincing us and themselves that we were now brothers. They'd backed off after a time, but I doubted the ambition had faded entirely. The game nights and family trips had always found ways to illustrate to Jordan and me that we were more than two strangers in a new situation.

It's not forced proximity when you are family, the logic went. But I had rejected that line of thinking for the simple reason that Jordan had been turning me on since the first time I saw him.

Surreal as it may be, spite flamed within me. Would they try to pull us apart? Vindictively, I pressed my thighs together under the table, sparking a wave of flutters through my insides that started where Jordan had wrecked and stretched me to the point that even shifting in my chair wasn't without that unique sensation.

I planned, just as I sat there between Mom and George, how I would wait for midnight before slipping into his room and handing over my body for his pleasure.

"You boys have a good swim?" George asked after swallowing a mouthful of his homemade carbonara. "You're both red like crabs."

"Sunscreen must have worn off," Jordan said in his deep, even voice.

"I was telling Eileen we should join you," George said conversationally.

Dread filled my hollow stomach. That never happened. Mom disliked still water and George wasn't much of a swimmer. That they had even thought about it terrified me. In some other universe, a version of us had gotten caught today. In yet another, a version of us had been caught at that first kiss. We were one mistake away from an untimely end to this thing.

This thing…

What was this, anyway? I didn't mind sneaking around with him if it meant he would treat me well and kiss me and fuck my brains out when we wanted it. But I still wanted to know.

"I was reading," Mom said, like that completely explained why she hadn't gone to the lake.

"You should join us tomorrow," Jordan said.

I glared at him. What the fuck was he doing? I wanted to ride him senseless tomorrow. I wanted to suck him underwater or do some other sort of acrobatics where nobody could see us.

"Ah, maybe, I don't know," George said. "It's more important that you boys have fun. We're beyond enjoying things like lakes, right honey?" He chuckled, but I wondered if Mom felt the sting in his words just as much. Maybe more.

But I understood what Jordan's game was. He was throwing off their scent. If he offered that, then it meant we had nothing to hide there. Which, of course, made sense to an innocent person who didn't struggle to contain his guilt the way I did.

No. I was not guilty. The only thing I was guilty of was searching for a few moments of happiness. Could they deny me that? Could they judge me? Parents or not, I didn't expect anyone just to shrug and not give me strange looks for my transgressions.

Growing up, I had been confident that my mother would accept my sexuality just fine. George's opinion hadn't mattered as much until his kindness touched me on the night I had come out. Even so, I had gotten familiar with that deep fear and the temptation to live as a liar, hiding in the shadows, denying myself to be who I was. I had known the fear of rejection even when nobody had given me a reason to expect it. I had known what it was like to be different since I was a little older than a child. Thinking back, even earlier, I had known I wasn't like all the other boys. Even as lucky with my mom as I was, I hadn't been totally confident that things wouldn't change after coming out.

I had hated feeling it then. And I hated feeling it now. It was a different thing, yet it felt exactly the same.

Later, I followed Jordan away from the table with a ten-minute delay. He messed up my midnight plans by simply slipping into my room through the main door with a bottle of wine in his hand. "Had this in my backpack today," he explained, waving the bottle.

"We didn't drink it," I said.

A small smile touched his lips. "We had better things to do."

"And now we don't?" I asked.

He gave me a pointed look. "They're not mutually exclusive, baby boy. Today, I was in a hurry, and I forgot all about the wine. Now? We can take it easy."

Shudders passed through me in several waves. His name for me, and his suggestions, and his powerful, towering stance. He was on his feet by my bed while I sat and looked up. "No glasses?" I pointed it out just to be cheeky.

Jordan snorted. "Do you mind sharing the bottle with me now?" he teased. "I thought we crossed that bridge when I had my dick in your mouth."

My chest tightened. This guy didn't care at all. He wasn't loud, but he wasn't quiet like a little mouse either. This Jordan was a risk-taker and it was an even bigger turn-on. "Right," I said, my voice tight as my throat closed and air wheezed in and out of my lungs. "We can share the bottle."

He'd pulled a corkscrew out from his pocket and my gaze remained on his crotch. The loose cotton shorts he wore seemed to be custom-made to draw my attention there. The curves over his big dick and balls were unmistakable. He acted like a real dude, as though he was the straightest guy on the planet. Since meeting him, the unattainable straight dude became my sole type. The only thing that made him hotter was the fact that I attained him in the end.

"Does it bother you that nobody knows you're into guys?" I asked.

He was screwing the opener into the cork. He huffed like it took effort to do the job. "Bother? Nah. It's nobody's business."

"We all say that," I said. "But that's not always true. I remember having that excuse so I wouldn't have to come out."

Jordan didn't look at me. He was solely focused on the bottle, turning the screw into it slowly like it was hard work. "It's nobody's business, Ash."

I liked it when he called me Ash. "But, like, your best friend? Your dad? They don't know all of you."

He looked at me now. "I'm not sure if you've been paying attention, but my best friend isn't just having sex with a guy almost every day, they're building a life together. And nobody knows all of anyone else."

I shrugged. "I know all of you."

The cork popped out of the bottle and Jordan sat beside me. As he handed me the bottle he asked, "Do you, though? You know I like you, but do you really know all of me?" I must have shown a hurt expression just the way I felt because he hurried to fix the situation. "Ash, it's fine. People can spend a lifetime together and not know everything about the other person."

I shrugged and tipped the bottle back, pouring some of the wine into my mouth. It was dry and nutty and possibly pretty pricey. "I want to know everything about the other person."

Jordan hesitated and accepted the bottle in the time it took him to think about it. Then, as he looked between me and the bottle, he said, "Okay." It was the softest, sweetest little sound that had come from his lips and I'd heard him moan until the sky shook. "Ask me."

My heart skipped a beat or two. What do I do with this newfound power? I thought. Grinning, I pondered through the most essential questions. Then, pulling on my serious face, I cocked my head. "Alright. The obvious, first. How did you realize you were into guys?"

He looked me dead in the eyes. "I saw you shirtless on the pier." And when he saw my shocked expression, he laughed. "I thought my heart would drop into my stomach. I thought I was about to faint. But that's how I knew."

"How old were you?" I asked, genuinely worried.

"Too old," he said, shaking his head. "Your body was starting to shape up like this." His hand gestured up and down the length of my body. "And I had gone through a really long period when no kind of porn interested me. I was sick of everything. And then, there you were, wet, sunbathing, cocky as fuck with your pretty face and nice, new muscles. You were so damn proud of yourself." He took a swig from the bottle. "Your turn."

I let out a breath. "Boys have been on my mind since I was born."

Jordan laughed, to my surprise.

"It's true. I don't even remember. But seeing you changed stuff for me. I stopped staring at pretty twinks and wanted a big, strong guy instead. Someone to…make me do whatever he wanted." I was oddly shy after saying this aloud.

His intense gaze was like fire in a furnace. "We won't have a shortage of that."

We sat in silence for a short time and then I dared myself to ask it. "What do you think George would say about you being into guys?"

Jordan's expression softened. "What do you think?"

I knew George wouldn't care. He wanted his son to be happy. That was it. Except… "What if he knew which guy you were into?"

Now, Jordan seemed a little more alert. "I don't want to think about that." He pressed his lips tightly together and looked away, at his feet and then at me again. "I can't think about that."

"So, not good," I said quietly.

He shook his head. "We don't know that. But…does it change anything? Should it stop us?"

I met his gaze and held it for a short while. "That depends." He blinked. "If we're just fucking, nobody needs to know. But if we want anything else, they'll have to find out."

"And what do you want?" he asked. It was a challenge. He genuinely wanted to hear my thoughts on this. There wasn't a trace of judgment in his tone.

I blinked once or twice. I wanted everything. Everything I could get. But I didn't know how to take it or how to make it happen. I didn't even dare believe it was possible. My shoulders shrugged independently from my will.

Jordan put a hand on my bare knee. It stirred the same excitement deep within me like everything else he did to me. "Ash, we don't know what's out there for us. We don't know where this is going. Should we stop before we give it a chance?" He held his breath for a short time. Slowly, he placed the bottle on the floor away from us and moved to his knees. His arms rested in my lap and his hands were on the sides of my torso. He looked into my eyes from below. "Let's just give us a chance and see where it takes us. We'll worry about the rest when we have to."

It shouldn't affect our enjoyment of one another's company and body and feelings if it didn't make a difference now, I realized. People died, and it was sad, but first, they lived. Relationships ended, but first, they lasted.

I placed my hands on his handsome, hard face. As I leaned in, he closed his eyes. We kissed in silence for a time. I had no way to measure or had an interest in measuring it, even if I could. We were kissing. That was all that mattered.

"Go lock the door, baby boy," he said, pinching my chin. And rising to his feet, he towered over me again."I want you to ride my dick until you blow."

Breathless, thoughtless, and without a single doubt stopping me, I nodded. I did as he asked and turned back to him. He was holding the bottle in an outstretched hand, offering it like the nectar of the gods. As I crossed the room, a different sort of distance was closing between us. We were very firmly accomplices in this crime of ours. Nobody knew what it was like except for Jordan. And while I didn't know everything about him, I knew far more than anyone else. I knew this side that he kept secret from everyone. I knew the rash guy who didn't care about the consequences if that was the price of sharing passion with me.

He had never revealed that side to anyone. Not to George, not to Beckett, not to any person who played some role in his life. And that felt like we had some silver thread connecting our hearts. It pulled us closer together until I stood by the bed and Jordan sat on the edge. With my hands on his shoulders, I pushed him back until he lay flat on the bed.

Jordan didn't make it hard for me. He thrust his hands under his head and observed me with a curious and naughty gaze. His face was showing the evening shade of a beard, making me wonder how nice the burn would be if he ate me now.

As I climbed onto the bed, Jordan inhaled a deep breath of air, his chest rising. I sat on his crotch, feeling the hardness that grew there with my ass, and dragged his loose T-shirt up his chiseled abs.

"Nobody turns me on the way you do," he said.

I swayed my hips rhythmically, grinding my ass against his crotch until the tortured expression dominated his face. "You like that?"

"Fuck yes," he whispered, almost breathless, as I pressed my hands hard against his bare chest. He moved his arms down and took my hips, helping me swing back and forth just the way he liked. And as it slowly began, passion bloomed. We collided again, insatiable and desperate for one another's body. Our hearts beat for each other, and our souls merged into one.

I can never have enough of you, I thought. I've waited for years. We'll never make up for all that time. But we can very well try.

The seductive dance turned into a rough and lust-fueled wrestling match. We grappled and turned, Jordan throwing me on my back and coming down on me with all his sexy weight. He pinned me against the mattress and ground his body against mine. He kissed me thirstily and undressed me greedily. He licked me everywhere and answered my question about his handsome beard between my cheeks. His sloppy kisses and licks worked my throbbing hole as his beard seared my sensitive, smooth skin. And when I lost control over myself, I begged him to fuck the soul out of my body. Jordan was happy to obey.

In the pit of passion, I lay on my front, and Jordan rammed me with his big dick like we were the only two people in the whole wide world. I bit the pillow hard to muffle my moans and held onto his upper arms on each side of my head, his fists pushing deep into my mattress. He rode me until the friction of the bed and the passion that spilled through me made me come. And after, he wrapped his strong arms around my body to hold me close. Shivers that ran through his muscles vibrated against me.

As we enjoyed the laziness that followed such passionate lovemaking, I whispered, "I don't want to be without you."

He was silent for a short time. Slowly, he leaned in and kissed the back of my neck, his front pressing against my back. His arms tightened even more around me. "You won't, baby boy," he said, his voice deep, smoky like expensive whiskey. "I won't let you go."

At those words, I held onto his arms harder, and my heart beat faster.