“He will.” Silas pulled the covers down and fluffed the pillow before stepping aside to let him put Jamie down onto the bed.

  He settled Jamie, then headed downstairs to lock up and set the alarm, turn off the fireplace.

  When he got back to their bedroom, Silas was in sun pose, absolutely naked.

  “Mmm… you move fast.” He stepped right up to the fine body of his lover.

  Silas’s arms dropped around his shoulders. “I was motivated.”

  “Were you?” He chuckled and drew Silas in, groaning at the heat of that sweet body.

  “Uh-huh.” Silas’s mouth closed over his, tongue slipping in between his lips.

  He wrapped Silas’s cock in one hand, beginning to stroke, loving on his man. A whimper filled his mouth, Silas’s hands tightening around him.

  That was right. He loved feeling his Silas hard and needy around him.

  Silas’s fingers dug into his shoulders, and one leg came up, those yoga muscles being put to work to keep Silas upright and tugging him close at the same time.

  Damn, that was fine. He wanted to see it with Jamie. He wanted to know how Silas would feel too. Silas bit at his lips, tongue following and soothing, before dancing with his own.

  He moaned, jacking Silas faster and harder, needing Silas to come for him, need him.

  “Gonna make me shoot,” Silas told him, dark eyes boring into him.

  “That’s the point, isn’t it? To ease the tension?”

  “To make us feel good.” Silas bit at his lower lip again. “That’s the point.” Silas’s heel dug into his ass, tugging him in even closer.

  “To make us fly. Together.” He shoved his jeans down and caught their cocks together.

  “Bran!” Silas cried out his name and pushed closer to him, holding on tight. His next kiss was sure to burn them both to the ground.

  Bran grunted and danced them back toward the bed, hand still working. Whether or not they made it to the bed before Silas shot was a crapshoot, but he’d make sure they didn’t fall.

  “Bran. Lover. Fuck.” Silas was next to incoherent, getting lost in the pleasure, cock leaking.

  “Yes. Love. Come on, babe. Show me.”

  That’s all it took. Silas came with a cry, his hips jerking as heat splashed up over Bran’s hand. The scent of Silas’s pleasure filled his nose.

  “Mmm…” His balls drew up, his thighs taut, muscles bunched up.

  “Your turn, lover.” Silas’s hand dropped to where he still held them both tightly together. Silas’s hand wrapped around his and got him moving again, hand sliding along both their cocks.

  “Mmhmm… my turn. My balls are heavy, aching for you.” And he loved this, how good it felt, having Silas touch him, need him.

  “Yeah?” Silas slid his other hand down and pressed it between his legs, fondled his balls. “Mmm. Yes, yes, they are.”

  He grunted and rocked into the touch. “Silas…”

  “You want this?” Silas asked, continuing to move their hands over their hard cocks. “Or do you want to go to bed and have my ass?”

  “I want your hand. I need you to touch me.” He wasn’t going to mess around.

  “As you wish, lover.” Silas continued to fondle his balls, sweet and gentle. The hand jacking their pricks, however, tightened, sped, working him hard.

  “Mmm…” No one knew him like Silas, no one else could play him like a guitar.

  “Uh-huh.” The word breathed against his lips before Silas pressed their mouths together again, tongue sliding in. One finger pressed against his slit, producing a zing that sped straight from the tip of his cock to his balls.

  He shot with a cry, his eyes rolling back in his head.

  Silas’s kisses softened, more licks and gentle tugs than anything else, the hand around their cocks slowing, pulling out a few shivery aftershocks.

  “Mmm… perfect.” Although it would be better with… no. Nope. Not yet.

  “You are,” Silas told him. “From the top of your head all the way down to your toes. Even your crooked little toe is perfect.” Silas bit at his lower lip, then drew him over to the bed.

  “That little toe is crooked because you dropped a can of beans on it…” he teased.

  Silas put a finger across his lips. “Shh. We don’t speak of The Incident.”

  He chuckled, and they wandered into their big bathroom to wash up. “Right. Shh.”

  Silas stole a kiss, lips soft on his cheek, then grabbed the cloth and carefully cleaned his prick. The touch of the washrag almost drove him out of his mind.

  “Mmm, sensitive,” murmured Silas. “Perhaps I should clean you with my tongue.”

  His whole body jerked. That was no fair. “Be good.”

  “I thought that would be very good?”

  He chuckled, but the sound was rough as hell.

  “That’s a yes.” Silas gave him a wicked grin and turned to pull down the sheets, giving him an amazing, up-close view of that ass.

  “It’s a yes.” He swatted Silas’s butt, just gently.

  Silas jumped, but only a little, then wiggled that ass, as if begging for another.

  He chuckled and leaned down, lips on the small of his lover’s back. “Do you think he’ll let us punish him? Put him over our knees?”

  That sweet ass wiggled for him some more. “God, I hope so.”

  “Mmm… me too.” He kept licking and kissing up along Silas’s spine.

  Groaning, Silas spread his legs, his upper body resting against the mattress. “Love your mouth.”

  “I love your everything.”

  “You’re such a sweet talker.” Silas pushed back against him, ass rubbing against his crotch.

  “That’s me. Sweet as sugar.” He nibbled the curve of Silas’s shoulder.

  “Uh-huh.” Silas sounded a little distracted.

  “Like honey.” He chuckled.

  “Mmm… honey.” Oh yeah, his Silas was focused on what Bran’s tongue was doing and not the words.

  “That’s right. Sweet. Sticky. Yummy.”

  Groaning, Silas rubbed his ass backward again. “Teasing me.”

  “Adoring you,” he countered.

  “Oh, Bran… I love you.” Silas wriggled around so he was on his back on the mattress, facing him. He slid a hand behind Bran’s neck and pulled him down into a kiss.

  He snuggled down, sharing a long, slow kiss with his lover. Silas joined their hands, fingers locking together with his, and a sweet hum filled his mouth.

  “Love you, babe,” he whispered, his heart beating hard.

  Silas nodded, warmth in his eyes, in his smile. “Yes. Love. Big love.”

  “Uh-huh.” He pulled the comforter over the top of them. “I’ll show you how big.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  James woke up in a rush, pure panic slamming into him.

  Where was he?

  Where the fuck was he?

  He was dressed, so that was good, but he didn’t have shoes on.

  He could see the room he was in from the sunlight coming from beneath the blinds. It was a bedroom. Aside from the bed, there was a small desk with a chair and a dresser, art on the walls. The door was ajar, and he heard voices coming from beyond it.

  Okay.

  Okay, think.

  He’d gone home with the couple from the coffee shop and tacos. Silas and Bran.

  Had he fallen asleep? How had he gotten up here?

  “Do you think he’s awake yet?”

  “Well, if he’s not, the scent of bacon and pancakes should do it.”

  “Chocolate chip or blueberry?”

  “What the hell, I’ll make some of each.”

  “Mmm. You do love me.”

  God, how embarrassing. He crept out of the bedroom, searching for a bathroom, because he needed to pee, so badly.

  “Jamie? Is that you?” The dark-haired one peeked from around an open door and gave him a grin. “You are awake!”

  “I am. I’m so sorry. Is there… can I please borrow your bathroom?”

  The silver-haired fox appeared, pushing past Silas into the hall. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, boy. And the bathroom is the door next to yours. Feel free to have a shower if you feel the need. There’s plenty of soap, shampoo, and towels.”

  “I… I don’t have anything to change into…” And he hated putting dirty clothes on clean skin.

  “I’ve got sweatpants with a drawstring you could borrow, along with a T-shirt while we wash your clothing,” Silas suggested.

  “Do you? I… Are you sure you don’t mind? I hate being a trouble.” But he wanted a shower, so badly.

  The silver fox waved his hand. “You’re no trouble at all. Just one question before you go—chocolate or blueberry?”

  “Is yes wrong?”

  Bran chuckled, and Silas was grinning like crazy behind him. “Silas would say that it’s exactly the right answer. That’s two votes for both, so both it is.”

  “See?” Silas bounced. “I told you!”

  Bran chuckled, giving Silas a fond look. They were truly adorable together.

  “I’ll be very fast.” He was used to that now. He couldn’t believe that ten years ago he was a television star, that he had been living in LA, in a huge house with his folks.

  The words “Take as long as you want,” chased him into the bathroom.

  He went in and stripped down, finding the bathroom to be clean and perfectly comfortable. The shower was a decent size, and he just took a moment to let the hot water pour down over him. There was good pressure, too. Between that and the heat, he knew he wasn’t back at the house he shared with his eleven roommates, and it felt really decadent.

  He washed his hair, cleaned himself off, then turned off the water, realizing as he did that he hadn’t gotten the sweats.

  Grabbing a towel as he stepped out of the shower, he noticed that between the soap and the towel, he could smell the guys and it was… really nice. He wrapped the towel around his body and opened the bathroom door a crack. On the floor in front of the door was a neat pile of clothes.

  So sweet.

  He picked them up and covered himself and his distinctive ink behind the clothes. He didn’t need to get recognized.

  He could hear noises from downstairs, and he followed them into the kitchen, which was a good size, with an island in the middle. There were three place settings on the island, butter, syrup, and jam on it as well, and Bran was at the stove flipping pancakes, Silas leaning against the counter watching him.

  “Hello. Thank you for the clothes. I’ll have them washed as soon as I can.”

  They both turned toward him, smiling.

  “You’re welcome,” Silas said. “Though I have to admit, you look a bit like an orphan in them.”

  “I think you look adorable,” Bran told him. “Where are your dirty clothes? We’ll get them washed.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Bran assured him.

  “Bran likes doing laundry.” Silas grinned and slid a hand along Bran’s arm. “He likes making things clean, and he likes the way the soap smells.”

  “Giving away all my secrets…”

  “I’ll go get them. I… I’m so sorry for crashing on you guys last night. So embarrassing.”

  “Nonsense. You were clearly exhausted.” Bran’s words echoed in his head as he went upstairs again to grab his clothing.

  He was lazy, maybe. Tired, for sure. Burned out? Fuck.

  He grabbed his clothing off the bathroom floor. He noticed the walls this time as he made his way back downstairs. There was artwork everywhere, modern, old, simple, ornate. Just lots and lots of it.

  It was fascinating, the way that the complicated paintings made a singular impression.

  Silas met him at the bottom of the stairs. “Let me show you where the laundry room is.” He led the way down the hall, past the kitchen, and through a door at the end of the hall.

  The laundry room had the requisite washer and dryer, shelves full of various laundry-type bottles, and a clean counter. It was the most spacious laundry room James had ever seen.

  “It’s lovely.” And bigger than his bedroom. He could just sleep on top of one of the counters.

  “Bran designed the renovations himself. So we got everything we wanted the place to be.” Silas shrugged. “We’ve both done pretty well for ourselves, but I know we’re spoiled.”

  “No. You work hard. You deserve it.” He understood that.

  Silas nodded his head. “Thank you, boy. Now, let’s get your clothes washing, eh?” Silas opened the washing machine and grabbed a bottle of clothes-washing liquid.

  “Thank you.” It was a tiny load, but Silas didn’t seem to mind. “I really appreciate this.”

  “It really is no problem.” Silas turned the machine on, then gave him a grin. “Come on. Bran’s pancakes are not to be missed.”

  “I haven’t had homemade pancakes since I was a little boy!” He’d eaten at craft services for breakfast most of his life.

  “Seriously? Damn. Well, today is your day.” Silas led him right over to the island and pulled out one of the stools. “Coffee, tea, milk, orange juice, or water?”

  “Uh… is it weird to want milk?”

  “Nope. It is in fact the only correct answer when it comes to pancakes.”

  Bran snorted. “So is coffee or tea. I’m not sure why you would offer orange juice with pancakes in the first place. The sweet just doesn’t go with the acid of the juice.”

  “Some people like orange juice on the side with breakfast,” Silas countered.

  Bran snorted again.

  “I’d like milk, please.” He felt like he was totally overwhelmed.

  “It’s a good choice,” Bran told him, giving him a wink.

  Silas put three glasses on the island and poured milk into each of them as Bran put three plates on the table: chocolate pancakes, blueberry pancakes, with bacon and sausages on the third plate.

  “Help yourself, boy.”

  He took one of each type of pancake and a single sausage. He wasn’t sure what was polite here.

  Silas gave him a look. “No wonder you’re so skinny if that’s all you eat!” The man grabbed two of each kind of pancake, some bacon and a couple sausages.

  What was he supposed to say? “I live on caffeine and sunshine.”

  Oh, he could put that line in his book.

  They both stared at him for a moment, and then Bran put another chocolate chip pancake on his plate, while Silas added three slices of bacon.

  “I was speaking with sunshine the other day,” Bran told him. “And they think you need to expand your diet.”

  He couldn’t help but to laugh. That was so sweet. “Did they?”

  “Yep. Man cannot live on caffeine and sunshine alone.”

  “Although sometimes we may try,” Silas noted. “I can get a bit obsessive when the sculpting bug hits me. At that point, food is just a distraction.”

  “Yeah? It’s nice though. Just letting yourself work.” He sort of loved that part.

  “Yes!” Silas laughed and nodded. “Exactly.”

  “Which is why you need a keeper to make sure you eat and sleep.”

  “You’re lucky to have him.” No question. They loved each other, so much.

  “That goes both ways.” Bran took Silas’s hand and kissed it. “Now, eat before the pancakes get cold because they’re much better hot.”

  “Yes, sir.” He grinned and dug in. Oh, so yummy.

  Silas and Bran also ate, and for a moment, there was silence as they all worked on emptying their plates.

  He found himself reluctant to go home, but he knew he was going to have to as soon as his clothes were dried. He had to write and then plan for tomorrow at the coffee shop.

  Silas sat back and rubbed his stomach. “Damn, that was the best breakfast. Thank you, Bran.”

  “My pleasure. So, Jamie—what’re your plans for today? Can we beg more of your company?”

  “Well, I have to write, get things together for work tomorrow, but… my clothes are in the wash.”

  “And our washing machine is ancient. I mean, just so old it takes hours and hours to wash.” Silas’s eyes twinkled, telling him the man was teasing.

  “Do you have a place to write?” Bran asked. “It sounds like your home is a little… crowded.”

  “It’s insane. Twelve people. Eight of us without kitchen privileges. It’s a wild scenario, but it’s also exciting and affordable on my salary. I rent the walk-in closet, so there’s a door.” It was wild, but it was also an experience.

  Silas and Bran shared a look.

  “We have a perfectly good room that could be yours,” Silas told him.

  “Barring that, we have a study with a writing desk. You could come and write whenever you want,” Bran suggested.

  “Barring that? He’s living in a closet!”

  “It’s a walk-in closet.” He grabbed his phone and dialed up the photos. “See? It’s cute!”

  He had a bean bag with a bunch of pillows and blankets, his books in the built-in shelves, and a low table for his laptop.

  “It’s not bad at all. For a closet. But what about the no-food thing?” Silas asked, frowning.

  “I have a microwave and a mini fridge. Besides, I mostly eat at the coffee shop, or I get tacos or whatever. I just… it’s a thing. We don’t get kitchen privileges. There are eight of us.”

  “Eight boys with no access to food in the house they live in…” Silas looked stricken.

  Bran took his hand. “I heard, love. We’ll figure something, yeah?”

  Silas nodded. “Yes.”

  “We’re not—we’re all over eighteen. I promise.”

  Bran nodded. “Good to know. You should still be able to get to a fridge and have fresh vegetables, fruit. Food not from a fast food joint…” He shook his head. “We don’t need to solve the world’s problems today, now do we? Now, you have a lovely nook of a home, but we’d still like to offer you a place to come and write. An office, so to speak. Private, quiet, a fridge with snacks and cold drinks.”

  “Oh…” Something quiet. “How much are you asking?”

  “Bran is a nurturer of artists. There would be no charge,” Silas told him. “I mean, if you happened to see dishes in the sink and wanted to do them, no one would stop you, but seriously, there’s no charge.”