Page 19 of Dark & Darker Still (Vane and Roc: Origin)

Eighteen

Alice

We get Roc up the stairs and into his bed.

While Vane strips his brother of the bloody, torn clothes, I grab a bowl of hot water and a rag.

I start with Roc’s face, wiping off the blood from his mouth, from his neck.

Thankfully his clothing got the most of it around his torso, so I only have to clean up a few splatters on his stomach.

It takes me longer on his nails where blood and gore is packed beneath his fingernails.

I have to use a dry brush to get the rest of it.

When we’re done, Roc just looks like he spent the night drinking and is sleeping off the effects.

Vane and I, on the other hand, are a wreck.

We take a shower together to help make sure we’re sufficiently clean.

He’s slow on my hair, scrubbing it from root to tip. He rinses out the shampoo, then gently runs conditioner through it as the water patters down my front.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the engagement.”

The tears come out of nowhere. I lean forward, hiding in the stream of water.

“I should have, after everything we’ve been through.”

I don’t want to talk about any of this. I don’t want to be reminded of what I’ve done and what I will lose.

Vane and I have always been willing to bury ourselves in each other to forget the pain of the present, the haunting memories of the past.

And so, I find myself turning around and wrapping my arms around him, instinct driving me to the one place where I’ve found comfort, even if it’s existed alongside disorder.

I kiss him.

He lets me.

He sinks his arms to my hips, his hands sliding down to my ass.

The kiss deepens, our tongues meeting, the intensity igniting.

His cock thickens, prodding at my pussy.

I just want to escape.

I want to pretend before it all pops like a bubble.

I reach between us, fisting him in the cuff of my hand.

He groans into me, the sound reverberating deep in his chest.

Rocking his hips forward to meet me, I stroke him, feeling him harden even more beneath my attention.

For the majority of my time with the Madd brothers, this was always what I was chasing. The ability to get lost in Vane and the thrill of him desiring me.

I am distantly aware that this is likely the last time I will have him.

When precum turns him slick, I let go of him.

“Fuck me,” I say. “One last time.”

He hoists me up into his arms and I wrap my legs around his hips, lining myself up.

The water patters around us.

He presses me into the cool stone wall of the shower and angles his hips, his cock finding me slick for him.

“I’m not giving you up,” he tells me and then shoves inside of me.

A mewling sound escapes me but Vane swallows it with his mouth, kissing me with an intensity that sends a thrill right down to my toes.

His pace picks up, chasing the pleasure.

I press my back into the stone, pushing forward at just the right angle so every thrust of his cock builds friction against my clit.

Pressure builds. I’m throbbing and soaked and all of my problems are so very far away.

I don’t ever want this to end and yet I’m desperate to come, to release the tension swelling inside of me.

Vane pulls back a fraction and shoves two of his fingers into my mouth. I suck on him, watching him watch me, his gaze hungry and glinting. When he’s satisfied, he drops his hand between us, swirling the wet pads of his fingers over my clit.

The pressure sharpens and I approach the edge.

I’ve fucked Vane so many times that I know when he’s close. All the muscle in his back tenses up, his abs constrict, and his rhythm finds a punishing pace.

We don’t have to speak. We don’t have to warn each other.

We understand each other in a way I’ve seldom felt.

I come loudly and quickly, pleasure pounding through my body, nerve endings flaring like stars.

Vane pitches forward, groaning into my neck, his teeth grazing my flesh with a nip.

I jolt beneath him, but he captures me, forces me to stay open to him as he pulls out, thrusts back inside, spilling himself at my center.

When we’re done, we stay like that panting into one another.

Immediately, the high of the pleasure is tainted by the stain of reality.

Vane sets me down. I swipe a wet lock of hair out of my face as he steps into the spray of water and rinses off.

“I should have just let you go.”

He turns his head, the water flattening his hair on his forehead and little rivers following the hollow planes of his face. “What?”

“You and I, Vane, we’re…” I close my eyes and try to make sense of all the things crowding in my head. The fear, the regret, the guilt, the hope, the dread and the temptation.

“We were always going to break one another,” I say.

His lips part, ready to argue, but then he flattens his mouth and breathes out through his nose and says nothing more.