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The orgasm pierces through me with an agonized cry, and Wicker reacts by touching my lips with his. It’s not a kiss. It’s as if he’s trying to steal my gasps—to take the pleasure for himself—only to give me new air to breathe. It feels equal parts generous and greedy.

After, Wicker folds me into his arms, soothing me through the aftershocks as Lex releases a pained sound, shoving in deep.

His cum feels hot—hotter than I’m expecting—and I squirm helplessly as he fills me with it, his breaths like fire against my shoulder. “See?” he says, wedging a hand between Wicker and me to feel my belly. “Nothing to worry about.”

As we extricate ourselves and go through the motions of cleaning up, I try not to think too hard about the fact Lex hasn’t looked me in the eye while fucking me, not once, ever since…

But it’s getting difficult, and as we all settle into bed, Pace finally spooning up behind me, I find my eyes fixed on his brother, wondering if that’s all I am to him. A vessel for his own creation. A way to scratch an itch.

“Ready?” Pace whispers, just as Lex falls back into his pillow.

Reaching over, I finger a long lock of Lex’s hair, tucking it gently behind an ear. He turns to look at me, half startled, half questioning. As soon as those amber eyes lock with mine, I allow myself to relax.

“I’m ready.”

Pace enters me with a shuddering exhale, sliding in easily after his brother loosened me up. Wick turns off the light, and under the shroud of darkness, I’m struck by the oddest, most startling thought.

For the first time in months, I feel like I’m home.

* * *

“Fuuuuuck.”Wicker’s groan is followed by the sound of a controller hitting the coffee table. “I fucking hate this game.”

“Got shut out by Saros again, huh?” Pace cackles from his desk chair.

“Fucking bastard.”

It’s one of the rare evenings when the house is quiet, other than the sound of Wicker’s complaining. No one has told me why exactly, but King Ashby has ordered the two of them to stay in for the night. “We’re on call for a job,” is all Pace said when I asked. I didn’t ask what the job was, because everyone knows better than to inquire about the business of Royals. The less one knows, the better.

But a whole evening with nothing to do has made it clear that Wicker isn’t used to so much downtime. He seems restless, categorically unsure of what to do with himself.

“When does Lex get back?” he asks, fidgeting with the remote to Pace’s TV.

“I think he said his group is over around eight,” I reply, not looking up from my assignment. Although I’m fully expecting everyone to somehow find their way to my room in a few hours, Pace needs to do some security work on his main computer, which for some reason, meant Wicker and I had to come, too. His paranoia has only increased since he broke into Royal Ink and slept over.

Wicker stands, stretching his arms over his head. His shirt rises up, giving me a peek of his cut lower abdomen and the fine trail of hair leading below the waistband of his shorts. “I can’t sit around anymore. I’m losing my mind.”

He strides into the other room and comes back with his beat-up sneakers.

Pace turns to glare at him. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“For a run,” he announces. “I’ll take my phone with me, chill.” In the middle of tying his shoes, Wicker glances at me, only to dart his eyes immediately away.

Things have been weird between us since last night. It took me a while to suss it out, but I don’t think it’s bad. Our performance on campus today was less showy and more cautious. Even when he took my hand in the courtyard, he seemed to waver a bit, like he was trying to find what’s real and what isn’t.

Or maybe that’s just me, projecting.

Because I sure as hell am struggling to find what’s real.

Before leaving, he pauses, looking back at me with an oddly wary expression. “You, uh, do have my number, right?”

I frown. “Yeah, of course.”

“Good.” He glances at Pace, and then back at me. “He can get a little fugued when he’s like this, so hit me up if anything happens.”

Without looking away from the screen, Pace flips him off. Wicker offers one in return before leaving. But I’m left blinking in his wake, because either I’m reading that whole exchange wrong, or Wicker Ashby just showed concern. About me. Specifically.

Unable to process that, I sigh, standing to stretch my back. “What are you working on, anyway?” I ask, leaning over Pace’s shoulder. I catch a whiff of his clean, spicy scent, reminded of the way we woke up this morning, Wicker and Lex both already in the bathroom, getting ready for the day.