Miles Hampton awoke to the sensation of his cock being sucked. Quite expertly, as a matter of fact. A hot, wet mouth with a devious tongue that licked him top to bottom and back, then teased his slit. A throat that seemed to lack a gag reflex, as it sucked him in all the way, with pressure that drew his balls up tight after mere seconds. He clenched his fists, as his orgasm barreled through him.

“Thank you,” he managed.

Warm hands cleaned his cock with what smelled like a baby wipe, then put it back in his pajama bottoms. “You’re welcome. Sleep well.”

He was halfway back asleep when it hit him. Who the fuck had just sucked him off? Had he seen him before? Yes. Yesterday, he’d quietly slipped into the room as well. Dark hair, tanned skin, gorgeous brown eyes. A quiet little mouse, who could suck cock like it was all he did.

Miles dreamed of him, that slick mouth, that perfect tongue. What was his name?

It was hard to stay awake, with so many drugs in his system. Painkillers, sedatives, whatever else he needed to not die. He kept waiting for his balls to start hurting, but they never did. Had they started giving him hormones after all?

He came in his sleep. Or had he been awake?

He woke up, knowing he’d orgasmed again, but his pajama bottoms were dry. What the hell?

The next time he roused when warm hands dragged down his pajamas. He reached out, slower than he’d liked, but still fast enough to catch the guy’s hand. Slim. Soft.

“Who are you?” he croaked.

“I’m Brad. Can I suck you off?”

“Hell, yes. Please.”

He put his hand on dark messy curls, so soft to his touch. He held it there until he came hard, groaning as he spurted cum into that perfect mouth. Who the hell was this?

Brad.

Brad with the perfect mouth.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Sleep well.”

Hadn’t he said that before? Deja vu.

Pain radiated from his heavy balls into his cock, his legs. It had been too long. He moved his hand down, vicious pain stabbing him in the ribs, reached inside his pants. Rock hard, of course. That never changed. Fuck, he hated this.

He jerked himself once, bit his lip from crying out as the uncoordinated move sent a wave of pain through him. The door opened, and he was too slow to pull out.

Shit. What would they think? Pervert. He was a fucking pervert.

“I’m sorry. I’m here now.”

Before he could say another word, his hand was pulled off his cock, and that mouth descended. Wet heat, tongue, hard sucking. He exploded, tears forming in his eyes as his balls furiously emptied. Fuuuuuuuuck.

He looked up, met apologetic brown eyes. “I couldn’t make it here earlier. I’m so sorry. Do you need another one?”

“Brad?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“You suck cock like a champ,” he heard himself say, his eyes drifting shut again.

A low chuckle. “I’ll take that as a yes. Close your eyes, I’ve got you.”

It took slightly longer, but when his second release hit him, he fell asleep instantly.

* * *

Charlie studied himself in the mirror above the bathroom sink. A month after the assault, his face finally looked normal again instead of the black-and-blue freak show that had slowly transformed in multiple shades of purple and blue. Zack had hit him straight in the face, multiple times, and it had shown. Fuck, his face had looked like a freaking rainbow flag, only less pretty.

Goddamn Zack. Fucking asshole.

Nope, he still wasn’t over his anger. Noah had talked to him about stages of grief, had offered to listen whenever Charlie wanted to talk. And Charlie had poured his heart out, but not to Noah. He’d shared what had happened with Brad, who was a way better listener than many people gave him credit for. Still, he couldn’t tell him everything, not when it was so stupid, so unbelievably stupid. He’d been such a fucking idiot.

Noah had said the process of grieving over what had happened with Zach started with denial, which in Charlie’s case had lasted for months. Why the hell had he stayed that long? It had been months since the first time Zack had hit him—and he’d still stayed with him. He’d known the guy was a massive dick, and not in the good way, but he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself, let alone to others.

To Brad. That’s what it came down to, didn’t it? He hadn’t wanted to admit to Brad that Brad had been right all along. He’d warned Charlie against Zack from the day he met him, back when Charlie had been too starry-eyed and impressed that the sexy cop was even giving him the time of day to listen. God, Charlie had been such a fucking naive kid. Brad had been a loyal friend, but he’d warned Charlie repeatedly. And fuck him to hell, he’d been completely right. Of course.

At least Zack hadn’t given him any VDs, what with all his cheating Charlie had already suspected and that Brad had confirmed. He didn’t blame Brad for not saying anything—he’d been in an impossible position, since Charlie hadn’t been open to hearing anything negative about Zack. The one outing he’d done since the assault had been to a clinic to get tested, and thank fuck everything had come back negative. But what a fucking asshole Zack had been, to even approach Brad for a fuck.

Charlie hadn’t made it past the second stage yet: anger. Deep, raging anger. He felt it bubbling inside him at times, making him all restless and edgy. The fact that he’d been fired from his job—working as a virtual personal assistant to a fashion designer had been kinda hard after the assault, and the man had fired him days later, the jerk—and couldn’t do his drag act either, which he loved so much, didn’t help. He was going stir crazy.

Maybe it was time to go job hunting, even if the thought of going outside scared the fuck out of him. Outside was where Zack was, and so far, he’d shown no sign of giving up on finding Charlie. He’d called relentlessly, until Charlie had changed his number, and Brad had resorted to that same tactic since he’d been inundated with calls as well. Even Blake had been approached. It was only a matter of time before Zack would find him…and going outside would only increase his chances of being found. No, he’d stay inside for now, in this safe place where people were nice and friendly.

He checked himself again. He’d always been on the pale side, but right now his skin was downright ghostly, contrasting starkly against his dark hair. His eyes looked even bigger than they usually did, probably because he’d lost some weight he couldn’t afford to. He was already so fucking frail. The cute, pint-sized twink—what a horrible cliché. And he fucking oozed rainbows out of his pores without wanting to, alerting everyone in his vicinity that yes, he was gay, thank you very much. Fuck my life.

He made his way downstairs. Brad was already at work, but Noah was on the couch doing something on his iPad with Indy curled up against him, reading a book. Ever since Indy had come home, those two had been inseparable. Charlie had sighed with the warm and fuzzies more than once, watching them kiss, or cuddle, and touch.

And yet, despite the joy that was apparent over their reunification, there was a lingering sadness in both their eyes, especially Indy’s. Was it a residue of the trauma he’d been through? Charlie wasn’t sure.

“Good morning,” Indy greeted him, friendly as ever.

“Hey, Charlie,” Noah said, looking up from his iPad.

Max, Brad’s dog, was on the floor in the living room and lifted his head for a sec to check who it was, then went right back to sleep.

“Hi. Did you guys have breakfast already? If not, I could make some?”

“You’re the guest here,” Indy protested. “Shouldn’t we be making you something?”

Charlie grinned. “Sugar, I’ve been here for a month. Pretty sure we’re past the guest stage. Also, in case you hadn’t noticed yet, your boyfriend can’t cook. He managed to burn an omelet the first week I was here. That in itself is quite the feat, actually.”

Indy laughed. “I know, but he has other redeeming qualities to make up for it.” He shoved Noah playfully, who shot him a quasi-indignant look in retribution.

“Yeah, somehow, I didn’t think you picked him for his culinary talents,” Charlie said.

Something flashed over Indy’s face that was gone too fast to interpret, though it had looked a hell of a lot like sadness.

“It’s not like Brad is much better,” Noah fired back.

“Oh, I know, but he’s not my boyfriend.”

Noah and Indy shared a look that Charlie refused to interpret. He was pretty sure they had their thoughts about him and Brad. After all, he and Brad were two gay, single men who were really close and who had been staying in the same room now for a month. It made sense that they’d be together, right? Fuck, they had no idea.

“Speaking of that,” Noah said. “We need to ask you something.”

Charlie lowered himself on a chair across from them. Was this when they were telling him it was time to move out? He couldn’t blame them, not after staying way past his expiration date already. Anyone else would have kicked him out weeks ago.

“We’re not kicking you out, Charlie,” Noah said, his voice warm and kind. The guy was damn good at reading minds, Charlie had noticed on more than one occasion.

“You know about Miles, right?” Indy asked.

Miles. Sure. The gay, hunky FBI agent who was daily reaping the benefits of Brad’s extraordinary cock sucking skills. Not that Charlie would know from experience, of course. Brad didn’t see him that way, would never even approach him for something like that. No, he only knew from Brad’s stories, because while the guy was a total introvert with Indy and Noah, he gave Charlie a daily recap of his sexual encounters in private. It was the sweetest torture.

He merely nodded at Indy.

“He’ll be released from the hospital in a few days. He has no close family, and no friends nearby that he can stay with. We’d love to invite him to stay with us as well, but we wanted to make sure you’d be okay with it.”

Charlie shrugged. “Sure. It’s your house anyway.”

“We want to make sure you’d feel safe,” Noah stressed.

Charlie frowned. Why wouldn’t he? The guy was an FBI agent, for fuck’s sake. Then it hit him. “Just because one cop turned out to be a massive asshole who beat up his boyfriend doesn’t mean I won’t ever trust cops or authority figures again. I think you have a pretty accurate bullshit meter, Indy, so if you say he’s a good guy, that works for me.”

“And if Brad and Miles continue their…sexual activities while he’s here, that wouldn’t bother you either?” Noah asked.

The question was so unexpected that Charlie couldn’t keep his face straight as his insides clenched painfully. Fuck, even the thought of having to watch Brad with another guy… It had always bothered him on some level, but he hadn’t truly admitted it to himself until he’d moved in here with Brad, until they had spent so much time together. Until he’d fallen so hard and so deep he knew there would never be anyone else for him.

“Oh, Charlie,” Indy said, his voice soft and sad. “I’m so sorry. If I had known, I would’ve never asked Brad.”

Charlie raised his chin. He refused to feel shame about his feelings. Love was not something to be ashamed of, ever. “Brad doesn’t know, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to him.”

“Don’t you want to tell him?” Indy asked.

Charlie sighed. “Noah, you’re pretty good at reading people. Does Brad strike you as the type to be open to a declaration of love?”

Noah hesitated. “He’s hard to read,” he admitted. “I like him, and it’s clear he’s super smart, but he’s closed off. He’s hiding big parts of himself.”

God, you have no idea what Brad is hiding. “Exactly.”

“But he’s different to you, Charlie. He talks more with you than with anyone else, and he’s tender and sweet toward you,” Noah added.

“He feels responsible for me, always has.”

Indy quirked an eyebrow. “How long have you two known each other?”

“Five years. We met when I was in my senior year in high school. Brad was my math teacher,” he explained. “It was pretty clear that I was gay, and I was getting bullied for it. Brad stepped in when a couple of jocks were giving me a hard time, physically, I mean, then started sort-of mentoring me. He signed me up for jiujitsu lessons with his brother Blake, insisted that I’d learn to defend myself. He’s had my back ever since, and we became close friends once I graduated. But he sees me as someone he has to protect, that’s it.”

“I don’t think it’s quite that simple,” Noah said. “There’s a lot more to Brad than he shows, but you two need to figure that out yourselves.”

“Charlie, if you don’t want Miles here, we’ll find a different solution,” Indy said. “The last thing I want is for you to feel awkward, or hurt.”

“Or the fifth wheel in a house with two couples,” Charlie commented dryly.

Indy grinned. “Or that. I love your humor, by the way.”

“You should come see me when I perform as Lady Lucy,” Charlie said. “She’s way funnier than I am.”

“I’d love to. When are you going back to performing?”

Charlie’s face fell. “I don’t know. I’m… I don’t know.” How could he explain that he was scared to even leave the house, afraid Zack would be there?

Indy gave him an encouraging smile. “It’s okay. We’d love to come watch you when you’re ready to perform again.”

Charlie nodded, grateful that they weren’t giving him a hard time about it. “And I’m okay with Miles coming here, honestly. Right now, he makes Brad happy, and that’s all that matters to me.”

It was true, in a way. Brad loved pleasuring the FBI agent, so that part was true. It did make him happy, in as far as Brad could ever be truly happy. Charlie would just have to get over the fact that it was Miles who was on the receiving end of Charlie’s attention, and not him. Even after spending a month in a room together, Brad was still not touching him beyond those sweet, way too short kisses and a whole lot of cuddling.

Fuck my life.