Page 13 of Missing Pieces (Brantley Walker: Off the Books #12)

As soon as Slade got home after work, he went straight to his bedroom to change.

He stripped off his jeans and T-shirt and opted for a pair of workout shorts.

He didn’t bother with a shirt. It was too damn hot.

Plus, he hated the restriction of clothing.

The shorts were a necessity since he now had a roommate; otherwise, he probably would’ve gone without those, too.

After changing, he headed for the bathroom to wash his hands and face. He was kicking around the idea of making dinner, but stalling since he wasn’t quite sure what to make. Or why he was bothering at all.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Archer Halligan.

More accurately, the fact that Atticus was going to be partnered up with him.

How the fuck was Slade supposed to compete with that?

Atticus would spend endless hours, possibly sometimes days, with the man.

What would happen if they were attracted to each other?

Gripping his hair with both hands, Slade glared at his reflection.

He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t risk ruining a perfectly good …

whatever it was he had with Atticus because he was insecure.

It wasn’t benefiting anyone for him to second-guess every single thing Atticus was doing, thinking, saying.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

He was going to start over.

What was the saying? Fake it until you make it. Yeah. He could do that. He could pretend to feel confident about his … whatever it was he had with Atticus, until he actually did feel confident.

Frowning, Slade wondered whether it would help to define what this was with Atticus.

And Carson. Couldn’t forget Carson, although there were moments when Slade wished he could.

Even after the night Carson apologized and admitted to having feelings for him, Slade was still hesitant to take the man at his word. Hindsight and all that.

“Slade!”

Ah, hell. Atticus was home, which meant he couldn’t hide out in the bathroom any longer.

Fake it until you make it.

He took one more deep breath and a slow exhale as he turned to the door.

“In here!” he called as he came out of the bathroom, heading for the living room. “I was thinkin’ maybe I could make dinner.”

“I’m gonna work out first,” Atticus shouted from the workout room.

That was interesting. And new. Atticus usually came home, flopped down on the couch, and stared at his phone for a good half hour before he did anything. Was there a reason? Was he hoping to impress someone? Someone who might be Archer Halligan.

No. Dammit. He would not let his insecurities get the best of him.

Fake it until you make it.

He could go for a workout. It was technically his rest day, but a few extra sets of bi’s and tri’s never hurt—

Slade came to an abrupt stop in the doorway of the workout room. “Oh, fuck.”

Atticus was standing in front of the wall mirror, his shorts shoved down, his cock in his fist. From Slade’s vantage point, he could see the shift of the muscles in his back as he stroked himself slowly.

And fuck if that didn’t turn him on like nothing else. From the very first time he’d laid eyes on Atticus James, Slade had found himself intrigued. Inexplicably. He’d fought it for the longest time, but he couldn’t anymore. He wanted this man in a way he’d never wanted anything in his life.

Not sure what to say or do, Slade stood there, staring unabashedly, admiring the man.

“Have a seat,” Atticus said, gesturing toward the workout bench in the center of the room.

This was also new. Slade was usually the one making demands or simply taking control because he knew Atticus enjoyed the dominance.

Continuing to watch Atticus’s fist move up and down the length of his cock, Slade went to the bench and took a seat.

“Lie back.” Atticus turned to face him, his eyes sparking with heat.

Curious what the man had in mind, Slade scooted his ass to the end of the bench and reclined until he was flat on his back, knees wide, feet on the floor.

“Do you remember the first time we were together?” Atticus prompted.

“Yeah.” Slade relived that moment damn near every day. They’d been in this room. On this bench.

“Remember what you said to me that night?”

“I said a lot of things.” Not to mention, he thought a lot of things, some of which he didn’t put a voice to and wasn’t sure he should bring any of them up now.

Atticus stopped at the base of the bench, standing between Slade’s spread knees.

“You said I looked good with your dick in my mouth.”

Oh, yeah. He probably did say that.

His gaze slid down Atticus’s torso, fixing on his cock one more time. Right now, Slade preferred to find out how good he looked with Atticus’s dick in his mouth. He wanted to taste him, to feel the splash of his cum against the back of his throat when Atticus came apart.

“Let’s see if you still think so.”

Still think so? About what?

“Oh, shit.” Slade gasped when Atticus tugged his shorts down, his cock bobbing thick and heavy once it was freed.

“Have I mentioned how gorgeous your cock is?” Atticus wrapped a fist around Slade’s dick as he went to his knees.

Slade shook his head, unable to speak. He was focused on breathing, enjoying the tug of Atticus’s hand.

“Well, it is.” Atticus leaned forward, licking the tip.

Slade watched, unable to look away, as Atticus teased him with his tongue and lips.

His soft hums sent vibrations straight to his balls.

Somehow, he managed to remain where he was, hands tucked under his head to keep from reaching for the man.

He was so lost in the sensation he didn’t hear the sound of the front door right away.

“Atticus?”

Fuck. Carson was there.

“In here,” Atticus said, curling his fingers around Slade’s shaft. “Don’t move.”

Like he could.

“Shit,” Carson muttered when he appeared in the doorway.

Atticus pointed a finger at Carson. “Stay right there.”

Slade glanced at Carson and cocked an eyebrow. He noticed Carson was as surprised by Atticus’s adamance as he was. Slade’s attention jerked back to Atticus when the man sucked him deep into his mouth again.

Arching his back, Slade let the pleasure swim in his veins, ignoring the fact that Carson had interrupted a perfectly good moment between him and Atticus. But Slade wouldn’t let it bother him. He would pretend that he was as thrilled with Carson’s presence as Atticus was.

Fake it until you make it .

“This is an experiment,” Atticus said when he released his cock.

“An experiment?” Carson sounded amused.

Atticus stroked Slade’s throbbing dick as he spoke. “Yes. Since no one seems to know how to proceed, I’ve decided to experiment.”

“On?” Slade asked, his voice rougher than he expected.

“Both of you.”

Slade moaned as Atticus stroked.

Carson said, “How so?”

“We’re gonna start by taking turns watching.” Atticus took Slade’s cock in his mouth again, bobbing up and down several times before pulling off.

“I take it I’m goin’ first?”

Atticus glanced at Carson. “No.”

Slade watched as Atticus crooked a finger at Carson.

“Pull out your dick.”

“Bossy little thing, aren’t you?”

“He is,” Slade agreed, watching as Carson did as Atticus instructed, unbuttoning his jeans and lowering the zipper as he walked into the room.

Atticus continued to fist Slade’s cock, stroking up and down while Carson shoved his jeans down, freeing his monster cock. The man was hard as steel. From watching Atticus sucking him?

Slade’s cock pulsed when Atticus wrapped his fingers around the base of Carson’s cock and began stroking them at the same time.

And there it was. A tsunami of jealousy slammed into him, causing his breath to hitch in his chest. Sure, there was something erotic about feeling Atticus’s hand on his dick and watching as he did the same to Carson.

But that green-eyed monster was a powerful beast, and no matter how much Slade tried to beat it back, it rarely worked.

Fully expecting Atticus to give Carson the same attention he’d already given him, Slade was surprised when Atticus leaned down and began sucking him again.

“Fuck,” Slade hissed. He shifted his focus to the warmth and suction of Atticus’s mouth. It was goddamn perfect. So what if Atticus was dividing his attention, giving some of it to Carson? This was enough. Right?

Too bad it didn’t last nearly long enough.

“You liked that,” Atticus said, peering up at Carson. “Watching me sucking him.”

Carson nodded. “Yeah.”

Of course he had. Carson had always gotten off watching Slade with other men. Why would this be any different? Well, aside from the fact that Carson had feelings for Atticus. Feelings he’d never had for Slade.

Damn it. He was regressing. There was no time for self-pity right now.

Fake it until you make it.

Slade held his breath when Atticus leaned in and kissed the head of Carson’s dick, then dragged his tongue over the glistening tip before taking him into his mouth.

He probably shouldn’t enjoy watching that nearly as much as he did, considering he hated the idea of it just as much. He wanted Atticus for himself. He was doing his damnedest to pretend otherwise, but deep down…

Atticus pulled off Carson, turned toward him. “You liked it, too.”

Slade met his gaze and lied. “Maybe.”

Atticus squeezed his dick firmly. “In case you didn’t notice, I felt your cock throb in my hand.”

Busted.

“Don’t deny it,” Atticus said, his tone firm.

“I didn’t.” He couldn’t.

Atticus grinned, looking between them. “Let’s continue the experiment, shall we?”

Atticus wasn’t sure what prompted this experiment . He’d been driving home from HQ, recalling the hatred he’d seen in Slade’s eyes when the team was introduced to Archer.

He had no idea what Slade could possibly have against the man, but Atticus got the feeling it wasn’t so much personal as it was jealousy over the fact that Atticus would be partnering with him. That seemed to be Slade’s go-to response.

Since Atticus wanted to smooth the waters, he decided to do something to keep Slade’s mind from wandering to ridiculous things. Something that didn’t involve tiptoeing around or worrying about the man’s insecurities.

Sex was the only thing that had come to mind.

Which was ultimately the problem, he figured. Sure, this was good. Really fucking good. But it wouldn’t be enough to sustain them in the long run.

As much as Atticus enjoyed this—and there was no denying that he did—he wanted more.

More of something that was seriously lacking between the three of them.

For whatever reason, Slade couldn’t get past his jealousy, and Carson was walking on eggshells, trying to make it right with Slade.

And that left Atticus wishing that these two didn’t have a rocky history.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t change the past, so the only option was to enjoy the here and now, to pave the way for some pleasure in the future. Sex was always a good distraction with them and as far as he was concerned, it was a damn fine way to pass the time.

“Fuck, Atticus,” Carson crooned. “You look good with my dick in your mouth.”

Atticus definitely enjoyed the shit out of being with them both. Their dominance was almost enough to allow him to forget all the other stuff that was working against them.

“Keep suckin’,” Carson ordered, palming the top of his head.

Atticus focused, working Slade’s cock with his fist and sucking Carson’s dick down deep. Now wasn’t the time to think about what could’ve been with these two. It made more sense to enjoy what he could have.

And this … yeah, this was about as good as it got.

Carson was pretty sure he’d died and gone to heaven.

He hadn’t known what to expect when he got Atticus’s text earlier, asking him to stop by. There’d been no hint as to what Atticus had in mind, but Carson could safely say he hadn’t expected this to be on the menu.

Then he walked into this room and found Slade laid out on that bench, all those muscles primely displayed while Atticus kneeled between his legs, his lips wrapped around his cock.

It was a scene right out of his fantasies.

In fact, he’d had a dream very similar to this last night.

Only Slade and Atticus had been sucking each other while Carson watched.

“Jesus. That mouth,” Carson moaned when Atticus took him to the root.

He honestly couldn’t say which he enjoyed more, watching Atticus suck Slade or having Atticus’s mouth on him. Both were erotically intoxicating and salaciously satisfying.

Lucky for him, he didn’t have to decide because Atticus was determined to make them both come at the same time.

Carson helped by moving closer, covering Atticus’s hand and stroking himself while Atticus devoured Slade’s cock.

He watched Slade, the way his muscular chest heaved, his washboard abs contracting with every labored breath.

Every now and then, he would meet Slade’s gaze, enjoying the way those dark eyes were glazed with arousal.

Slade might not admit it, but he was enjoying it too.

And when Atticus shifted again, taking Carson into his mouth, he stared down at those perfect lips stretched wide around him.

Carson fought the urge to fuck his face, to take control simply because he knew Atticus would’ve given it if he’d pushed.

But this was Atticus’s game, and he was more than willing to play.

“I can get off like this,” Carson admitted when Atticus was once again bobbing up and down on Slade’s cock. “Watching him suck you.”

Slade hissed.

“Make him come, Atticus,” Carson commanded, his hand still covering Atticus’s as he jerked himself to the bobbing rhythm of Atticus’s mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” Slade growled roughly.

“Come down his throat, Slade,” Carson groaned. “Let me watch.”

Slade’s hand shot up, grabbing Atticus’s head and holding him in place as his hips lifted. “Fuck, yes. Oh … fuck … yes.”

Carson held on long enough to watch Atticus swallow Slade down before he reached for Atticus’s head so he could ram his cock between his lips. One thrust, two. On the third, he let go.

Atticus moaned, the vibration making Carson’s eyes cross as his dick pulsed in his mouth. It was then he realized Atticus was jerking his dick roughly, coming right along with them both.

“I think I might like this experiment,” Slade said, his chest heaving, body relaxed on the bench. God, the man had a truly beautiful body.

“Me, too,” Carson admitted.

“Me, three,” Atticus said, sucking in air. “But next time, I get to watch.”

Carson looked at Slade. “It’s cute that he thinks he’s in charge.”

“I know, right?” Slade’s rumbling laugh eased something inside him.

Maybe there was hope for them yet.