Chapter 45

FORTY-FIVE

MILES

T he thing about Braxton is that there are many layers to him. Like an onion or a massive puzzle. Even though I know he's fucked-up over what we learned and seeing our mom today, he's able to stuff it down in some box inside himself to deal with later.

I'm so overwhelmed by today that I can't focus on what's next.

His hand grips my cock harder, his breaths mingling with mine.

But this is the other thing about Braxton, about our connection. When he's near and touches me, the world falls away.

Suddenly, everything doesn't seem so heavy.

It's just the two of us.

I don't know when the pivotal moment was that we two fell in love. I don't know when I even began looking at him differently. All I know is that it happened, and there's no going back .

"Tell me what you wanted from me. Why did you come?" Braxton says again when I don't speak.

"You," I tell him.

I wonder if this is why Aella refused to ride with me to get Braxton. She knew a storm was brewing inside me that only Braxton could weather, and she knew we needed to be alone to fight the raging waves together.

He and I have never gone beyond kissing beyond blow jobs in secret.

Beyond what we deemed safe to do with one another.

His kiss comes fast and hard, and my mind blanks. All the worry and stress are gone, and there's just him. Just his hand stroking me, his tongue devouring mine, and his hand cupping the side of my face gently.

But I don't want gentle.

I want everything Brax can give, and none of it is tender.

Because if Braxton is anything, he's turbulent. Volcanic, even.

The kiss turns frenzied, his hand pressing into the back of my head and his lips demolishing mine. Pain stings through me. I welcome it.

It's not long before we're tearing clothes off, tossing them onto the cold ground, and forgetting the nip of the chilly wind and icy weather.

"Get on my bike," Braxton says, tone obliterating any of the nervous energy inside me. "On the edge."

I do as I'm told, as I do when I'm with him.

He's got a notable presence about him, and letting him lord over me makes me feel as though I don't have to worry. There's too much I'm in control of in our day-to-day lives, and I've always looked to Braxton for having someone to take on the burdens. So why not let him take the reins in this aspect, too?

He reaches into the pack he keeps on his bike, pulls out a bottle of lube, and uncaps it.

"Keep that in there for special occasions?" I ask, teasing my cock with strokes every so often as I watch him drop a healthy amount of lube into his palm.

He caps it and tosses it onto our clothes on the ground.

He doesn't smile, doesn't give me an answer. He only looks at me vehemently as he rubs the lube over his cock, the sounds of him fucking himself with the lube making pre-cum leak out of me.

Stepping closer, between my open legs, he takes his lube-coated hand and slides it past my balls toward my ass.

My nerves rise, and my belly tightens, tightening the muscles of my asshole with it.

"Relax, Brother. It's going to feel good. I'm going to make it feel good." His words and tone make my cock throb against my stomach.

His other hand strokes up and down my cock as he slides a finger inside me.

"Holy fuck," I breathe, and his eyes light.

We're utterly alone in the wilderness, snow falling around us, yet it feels like the world is our audience.

Like there are so many eyes on us as we finally let go of inhibitions.

A groan emits from me as he adds another finger inside me, moving his fingers in and out of my ass as he strokes me, his eyes intense and dull into mine.

"Brax," I say breathlessly.

"I've got to stretch you." His breathing is as erratic as mine.

He's just as desperate to fuck me as I am for him to fuck me.

But he's right.

His glistening cock bobs heavy between his thighs. He's enormous, and it's going to hurt. However, the countless hours I've spent denying my feelings for him, trying to convince myself that I don't desire him, all while fantasizing about him in private moments, have left me yearning to surrender. To feel.

He removes his fingers once he's too worked up to think straight. Shaking his head, he lines himself up with my ass.

"I can't wait anymore. This might hurt," he tells me.

"I don't fucking care," I tell him.

And I don't. The hurt will remind me it's real. That after all this time, all the games, all the sidelong glances when no one's looking, that this is fucking real.

The tip of him spreads my ass open, making way for the rest of him to sink inside. My ass protests, burns, and aches, but it only makes my cock throb.

I reach down and stroke it, giving it attention.

When he pushes past the tightened ring of muscles inside me, I hiss, breathing through the pain.

Still, my body festers for him.

Begs for more .

"Braxton, please," I mumble incoherently, jacking my cock furiously to edge off the building tension.

He smacks my hand off my cock. "That's mine. You'll come when I let you."

I breathe and try to survive his glare.

Finally, he moves inside me, back and forth. Slow and steady.

The assembling torrent low in my belly makes my balls draw up tight to my body. "Fuck," I spew, looking down at where he fucks me, both my hands gripping the bike behind me.

"Goddamnit, you're so fucking tight, Miles."

My mouth drops open, my eyes gobbling up every inch of him that sinks inside me over and over and over.

He leans down and captures my lips, his tongue drifting between my lips and curling around my own. He swallows my groan, and I do the same for him.

His hand grips my cock between us, stroking wildly as he buries himself in my ass.

"Holy fuck, you feel so fucking good," I breathe, breaking our kiss.

He hovers, his face close to mine. "Do it. Call me what I like to be called," he commands.

I smirk. "You filthy fuck."

"Fucking do it!"

I lick my lips. "Fuck me harder, Brother," I coax.

I'm not prepared for how he bends his knees and thrusts upward, brushing against something sinful and stealing my breath.

"Ah! Braxton, again! "

He doesn't do it, though. He only grips my dick harder, stroking mercilessly with a grin on his lips.

"Do it again, Brother," I plead.

And he does.

With each of his bent thrusts, he looks like a fucking god. One comes to do the Devil's bidding.

"More, fuck, more!" I beg, and all my inhibitions drop altogether.

How I made it this long without letting it happen is beyond me. But now that it is, there's no going back.

This is us, raw and unfiltered. The rest of the club will either accept it or leave. I don't fucking care either way.

"You take me so fucking well, Brother," Brax says, and my cock swells in his hand in answer.

His sweltering eyes grow languid, his mouth dropping open.

"Fuck, I'm going to come. Tell me I can fill your ass. Tell me I can fucking come inside you, Miles," he begs deliriously.

"No," I tell him. "Come with me. Come on my dick," I beg, feeling my release rise to the surface.

The thought of being painted in both our cum makes shivers rake my spine.

"Holy fucking shit," Brax grits out, tugging out of my ass right in time to jack his cock and erupt over mine.

Quickly, I reach for my dick that he dropped and stroke without mercy, using his cum to lubricate each beat of my palm against flesh .

"Braxton, fuck!" My stomach tightens, and my dick erupts, my cum mixing with his on my stomach.

As we both still slowly stroke ourselves, a moment of silence befalls us.

"That was much more intense than I thought it would be…" he trails off, tugging his cock once more to wring out whatever's left inside before stepping back and running his eyes up and down my body.

I'm still leaning back on the bike, body covered in our spend, biting my lip.

"Poor Aella missed out." I laugh.

He shakes his head. "She knew this was going to happen."

I nod. "I agree. She did."

He motions for me to get off the bike and pulls wipes from the same pack he got the lube from, tossing them to me to clean off.

"What the hell else is in that fucking thing?" I joke as I open the pack and begin wiping my body off.

It's too bad because I'd love to go home to Aella and make her lick it all off.

My nipples harden at the thought.

"If I tell you, I'd have to kill you," he says, tossing my clothes onto the bike as he tugs into his own.

He can tell the moment I'm second-guessing what just happened. The moment I realize what I just let happen, and spiral.

He steps into me, lifting my chin with his finger as he searches my face with his eyes. "Don't do that."

I breathe because it's all I can do.

"It's hard not to worry. "

He nods. "I know it is. But fuck them. Fuck them all. Fuck what they think. I've loved you since I was fifteen, Miles. I'll be damned if I let anyone else's views of us hold weight against how happy I am right now."

I smile, closing the distance between us and kissing him slowly, passionately.

"I love you, too."

He pulls back. "Hard not to. Just look at me."

He's joking to make me feel better. We both know it.

Despite myself, I laugh and shake my head, handing him the lube and wipes.

Before we get back on our bikes, we look at one another and let a beat of silence pass.

"What are we going to do next about this shit with Walter and Mom?" he asks me as his brother and his president.

"We're going to put this shit behind us. We know where Mom is now; we know we have to keep a fucking eye on Aella's dad and the shit he's involved in keeping our city safe, but we're going to move on. As a group. Threesome? Throuple? Shit, what the fuck are we?"

Brax laughs. "In love? Who cares? I don't need a label, and neither should you."

The confidence he has in the three of us in the future, and the unadulterated love he has for the two of us, is all I need to move on and close the chapter of shit that lies behind us.

As we both crank our bikes, engines revving, we ride off into the next part of our lives where we're free of the past and together for the future.