One Last Time (Loveless Brothers 5)

“Come wherever you want,” I murmur, and it’s barely out of my mouth as he groans and strokes himself one last time.

It hits me in a hot line from my chest to my belly button, spurt after spurt, and when he’s finished he drops his forehead to mine, breathing hard, gives me a long, deep kiss.

“Sorry,” he says, and smiles.

I start laughing, my hand on his face.

“For?”

“Breaking the spirit of the rules, if not the letter.”

“This doesn’t count as you giving in?”

One more kiss, and then he pushes himself off me.

“If anything, it counts as you giving in,” he says, grinning as he walks away.

“No, it doesn’t,” I call after him, still lying on the couch because if I move, I’m going to get cum everywhere and Seth’s usually a gentleman. “I think we just did a great job of not having sex.”

His downstairs bathroom door opens, and I hear the water running. A moment later he reappears, washcloth in hand, still stark naked.

See? Gentleman. Also, still an eyeful as he stands in front of his couch for a long moment, just looking at me.

“You gonna paint me like one of your French girls?” I tease. I’ve got one arm over my head, one leg on the couch, one foot on the floor. I’m sure my hair’s doing something I wish it wouldn’t.

Oh, and there’s still jizz on me.

“Just memorizing what you look like right now,” he says. “For future use.”

“I’d pose, but I’m trying to avoid getting jizz on your couch,” I say, pointedly.

“Like it would be the first time.”

My brain sticks, suddenly, my thoughts running into each other. Did he just tell me that he’s fucked other people on this couch? Where I’m currently lying, after not having sex but also not not having sex?

“Oh,” I manage to say as he walks to me, then kneels.

“What? I live alone,” he says, half defensive and half sheepish, wiping my torso off. “It happens.”

The wet washcloth is warm. It’s a nice touch.

After a moment, it hits me that he’s talking about jerking off on the couch, not fucking someone else.

“Right,” I say out loud.

“Right,” he says, half-smiling. He drops a kiss on my shoulder, stands, pads away. I sit up and look around, wondering where my clothes went, but not wondering that hard.

When Seth comes back he’s gotten a fuzzy blanket, and he puts an arm around my shoulder. I lean into him, curled on the couch, and we stay like that for a long time.

“Do you want to come on the ski trip?” I finally ask, half-surprising myself.

Seth laughs softly, turns his head. I think he kisses my hair, though there’s so much of it that it’s hard to tell.

“I didn’t even ask you,” I say, closing my eyes. “I just went ahead and overthought the hell out of everything and decided I should spare you, but what’s the point since you’re —”

I stop short, because I almost said you’re going to have to deal with them sooner or later, and… that feels like a lot to say, even right now.

“ — invited,” I finish.

“Do you actually want me to come, or do you just feel guilty now?” he says.

I twist my head against his shoulder to look up at him. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know that this is where we get into trouble, that there’s something about sex that makes us too honest with each other, too brutal.

“I’ll have a better time if you’re there,” I tell him.

“Then yes.”

“You can get off work on short notice?”

“Please,” Seth says, half-rolling his eyes. “Daniel’s always taking off because of ‘family stuff’ or ‘his kid is sick’ or ‘Charlie just had a baby,’ I can go on a ski trip with my girlfriend.”

“Do you ski?” I ask, off-handedly.

“I went once.”

That pretty much means no.

“You wanna be my kept man who mixes drinks in the condo and hangs out in the hot tub?”

“There’s a hot tub?”

I just snort.

“Of course there’s a hot tub,” I say. “There’s a rooftop hot tub. I think there’s three rooftop hot tubs. You think Vera Fucking Radcliffe is buying a condo in a ski resort that doesn’t have a hot tub?”

“Not anymore, I don’t.”

“It’ll be fine,” I say, and snuggle into his shoulder again. “You’ll be fine, just don’t take anything personally and don’t… listen to them.”

“What if they give me directions?” he asks, teasing. “What if —”

“Don’t be a dick,” I tell him, yawning. “You know what I mean. You’re not still gonna try to insist that you’re sleeping on the couch, are you?”Chapter Thirty-SixSethI reach up and turn the exhaust fan on, not that it’ll help a whole lot. My kitchen is still going to smell like breakfast until Tuesday morning at least.

“Do you always just have bacon in your fridge?” Delilah asks.