Charlie held his breath, waiting for Brad to respond. Miles’ words had been flaming swords of truth, cutting deep. They’d made Charlie ashamed that he’d never spoken them. He’d wondered, at times, where Brad’s sexual hang ups originated in, but he’d never dug deeper than Brad had allowed. Which was quite shallow, to be honest. He’d been scared to lose his friendship, because damn it, Brad could be brutal when he was backed into a corner.

“You wanna be all kumbaya and share? How about you tell us why your boyfriend broke up with you?” Brad fired back at Miles. Yup, there was the grenade Charlie had expected Brad to launch.

Miles’ flinched, then straightened his shoulders. “Fair enough, though your tone could use improvement. Casey was a lawyer, we met through my job. We started dating, fell in love—or what I assumed was love, moved in together. At first, he loved that I was always in the mood for sex. The sex was great, plentiful, and I thought we were happy. That didn’t last long, and he started complaining about my sex drive. He felt I was pressuring him constantly to have sex, which made me feel very guilty, then told me my issue was either fake or psychological. I started doubting myself, debated taking the hormones after all. It took me a year to find out he was fucking dozens of other guys behind my back. When I confronted him, he told me he knew I had cheated, too. There was no way I hadn’t, not when all I wanted to do was fuck…He never believed me when I assured him I had never done anything else but jack myself off as long as we were together. He left, and moved in a week later with a guy he’d apparently fucked a few times before. In hindsight, I can see that there were a great many things wrong with our relationship, and that I fucked up, too, but that’s another story. That enough detail for ya?”

Like Charlie, Brad was subdued. This was not the story Charlie had expected to hear, and he figured it was the same for Brad.

“I’m sorry,” Brad said. Did Miles recognize the sincerity in his tone? “That was a shitty thing to do to a man who holds integrity in such high regards.”

Miles’ eyebrows rose. “What?” Brad said defensively. “You think you’re the only one who can read a person?”

“Oh, Brad, you sarcastic little shit. Why do you react so fiercely? It wasn’t criticism. I was pleasantly surprised by your faith in my character.”

Brad mumbled something.

“To my face, Brad. Say it to my face.”

Fuck, Miles was unrelenting.

“It’s self-defense,” Brad said, louder this time.

“I know it is, honey, but I’m telling you there’s no need for it. I won’t hurt you.”

“Sure, you will.” This time, Brad’s voice rung out crystal clear.

Miles’ face was all compassion. “Tell me, honey, why have you never started a relationship with Charlie?”

“With Charlie? But we are friends, best friends.”

“You know he wants more, and I’m pretty sure you want it, too.”

Charlie froze. Was Miles right? He’d always thought his attraction was one-sided. Sure, Brad liked him, that much was clear. There was sexual tension, but Brad had always held him at a distance, at least in that regard.

Brad was quiet for a long time. “I’ve got nothing to offer him,” he finally said. The emotion in his voice brought tears to Charlie’s eyes.

“Nothing?” Miles asked.

“I got a steady job, but that’s it. Emotionally, I’m fucked-up. I don’t wanna expose him to that. He deserves better, and God knows what could happen.”

“What do you fear would happen?”

Brad’s shoulders sagged and he dragged a limp hand through his black hair. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I wanna take a shower,” he finally offered.

“Okay,” Miles said easily. “Let’s shower. The damn thing is big enough for the three of us.”

Charlie bit back a smile. That could not have been what Brad had in mind. Indeed, his head jerked up. “You want us to shower together?”

“After what we shared before, a shower should be easy, right?”

Brad turned to make eye contact with Charlie, who made sure he sported an innocent look. “Fine with me,” he said. “I’m sticky all over.”

Brad grumbled as they all climbed off the bed, but he didn’t protest. Miles and Charlie started the shower, while Brad hunted up towels and wash cloths. By the time Brad joined them, the water was perfectly hot, and Charlie let out a happy sigh. “Fuck, this feels good.”

He caught the wash cloth Brad threw at him. Behind him, Miles gestured and Charlie understood. “Sit down on the bench,” he told Brad.

Brad looked confused. “Why?”

“Trust me, babe,” Charlie said.

Brad lowered himself on the bench, looking from Charlie to Miles and back, as if he knew they were up to something. Miles smiled at him. “Trusting doesn’t come easy for you, does it?”

Brad sighed. “It really doesn’t.”

Charlie reached for the shampoo, squeezed some out. “Close your eyes,” he said.

Brad blinked once, twice, then did as Charlie asked. Charlie brought his hands to Brad’s hair, started shampooing the dark locks, always a tad too long. Seconds later, Miles’ hands joined him, and together they washed Brad’s hair inch by inch, softly massaging his scalp. Every now and then a soft moan would float from Brad’s lips.

Miles had been spot on. Brad was always focused on taking care of everyone else, including Charlie. He’d become used to it, to the point where he’d completely missed the underlying beliefs Brad harbored about himself. When had Brad started believing he wasn’t good enough? When he’d said he had nothing to offer, man, that had hit Charlie hard. How could Brad possibly think that? Yet he’d been speaking what he believed was true.

Together, they rinsed out his hair, again massaging and finger combing his hair until every last fleck of foam was gone. Charlie knew what was next. He took the wash cloth, soaped it up. “Stand up,” he ordered Brad.

He kept his eyes closed, but dutifully rose. Charlie sat down, figuring Miles could do the top while he did the bottom. They washed Brad’s body thoroughly, soaping every inch of skin. Brad’s eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. This was hard for him, being taken care of. How the hell had Charlie missed that all these years? He’d taken and taken, never once realized how little Brad took back.

They were a study in contrasts, Charlie mused. Miles was so tall and blond, the ripped alpha of their threesome. Brad was his opposite, with his dark hair and brown eyes, his lean body. He had a long-distance runner’s build, not an ounce of fat on his frame. And then there was Charlie himself, the quintessential twink with his small, slender frame. His dark hair was more similar to Brad’s, but his fair skin color stood out, and his blue eyes were more like Miles’.

He washed Brad’s ass, taking his time to clean his crack and hole. It was strange, yet so familiar to touch him like this. He’d saved the man’s cock for last, not sure how he should proceed there. If he should. Brad had always been extremely sensitive about men seeing him, even Charlie. As if losing a testicle had made him less attractive, less of a man. You couldn’t even notice it, not unless you knew and were pretty damn close to him.

When he gingerly touched his remaining nut, Brad’s eyes flew open. “Charlie,” he warned.

“You’re beautiful,” Charlie said, not letting himself be deterred this time. “Miles was right. I do want you, always have.”

“You deserve more,” Brad said.

Miles had been right. How had Charlie not seen this? “More than what, babe? More than you? A kind, loving man who’s never treated me with anything less than respect, who’s always been there for me? Brad, you’ve been my rock since day one, when you busted those guys for stuffing me in that trash can. You have taken care of me as much as I’ve allowed you. What more could I possibly deserve?”

Brad’s face distorted in pain. Did this have something to do with his parents, his brothers? Charlie knew tiny slivers of Brad’s past, shared when he was drunk, but he’d never gotten the whole picture.

Miles shut the shower off. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow. We all need sleep right now.”

Silently, the three of them toweled off. “I’ll remake the bed,” Brad said. Without waiting for an answer, he walked into the bedroom, still naked. Did he realize he was already growing accustomed to Miles seeing him like that? Charlie doubted it.

“We’ll back off for now,” Miles said softly.

Charlie nodded. “It’s hard for him.”

Miles’ hand cupped Charlie’s cheek. “I know, love. It’s worth it. He’s worth it.” Electricity sparked between them. “You surprised me, bossy little man.”

Charlie smiled. “Not your typical twink, huh?”

“I don’t like the meek ones,” Miles said. “The ones who passively bend over and take it.”

“Not much chance of that with me.”

“You told Brad you’d top him.”

“You thought I was a bottom, didn’t you?”

Miles hesitated. “Yeah, I did. Highly stereotypical, I know.”

“I’m vers, like you, though honestly, I prefer topping.”

“How did you…?”

Charlie snorted. “Dude, you liked it way too much when Brad played with your hole. You’re definitely not a strict top.”

“And Brad?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking him?”

“I’m asking you.”

Charlie relented. “He’s a bottom only guy, even before his surgery. He’s topped in the past, but it’s not his thing. He loves to be on the receiving end.”

“Charlie, my love, are you sure this is okay with you?”

“What, us you mean?”

“Yes. You’re coming out of a relationship you haven’t even formally ended.”

“Trust me, it’s over. We’re over. I may have been stupid enough to take it a few times, but this? This was inexcusable.”

Miles searched his face, nodded when he’d found what he’d been looking for. “When you’re ready, I’ll listen. No judgment.”

Charlie followed his instinct. He stepped in, raised his face and offered Miles his mouth. He took it, gently and tender. It was the sweetest of kisses, making Charlie float.

“Brad gets your heat, and I get your heart. You’re a man of contrasts, Miles,” Charlie whispered against his mouth.

Miles’ lips pulled up in a sexy grin. He kissed Charlie again, equally soft. “He’s not ready for my heart, and you’re not ready for my heat.”

He had a point, Charlie mused as they walked into the bedroom, where Brad was finishing up remaking the bed. The dirty linens were in a pile on the floor. “We’ll have to help Josh do laundry,” Brad said, a look of guilt on his face.

“Something tells me he’s used to washing sheets,” Miles said. “The way these guys fuck, he’s gotta be doing laundry daily.”

They got back in bed, the tension gone for now. By unspoken agreement, they took the same spots as before, with Brad in the middle. Charlie turned on his stomach, his favorite sleeping position. He sought Brad’s hand, put it around him.

Brad chuckled softly. “You’re such a cuddler,” he said. Still, he obliged by turning on his side and snuggling close to Charlie, his arm protectively around Charlie’s waist.

The bed moved as Miles took position behind Brad, spooning him from behind. He nuzzled Brad’s neck, kissed his nape. “Sleep well.”

Brad’s eyes widened, and Charlie held his breath to see if he would accept this affection from Miles. Brad let out a long sigh, his body releasing the tension, then closed his eyes.

The poor guy. He’d never even gotten his orgasm, not even after making them both come so many times. Miles had been right, there were deeper issues than Brad’s limp dick, as he referred to it. But they’d wait till tomorrow. For now, they’d sleep. The three of them sharing a bed, and feeling wonderfully right.

Charlie fell asleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

Miles waited three whole days for Brad to bring their conversation up himself. When he didn’t, Miles knew he was in for a fight. Brad still didn’t realize Miles was willing to go to war over this. He was stubbornly clinging to the illusion that what they were doing was nothing more than sex. Fucking idiot. A child could see Charlie’s heart had gotten involved a long time ago, and the same was true for Brad.

As for Miles, he kept telling himself falling in love in this short a time was impossible, especially when it concerned not one, but two guys. Yet his feelings were way too big, too demanding to be mere infatuation. So he’d fight for it, for them. But first, he had bigger fish to fry.

Charlie was napping in Miles’ bedroom, so Miles waited in the living room till Brad got home from work. He walked in at four-thirty, looking tired and pale. Miles frowned. The guy was so busy taking care of everyone else, that he forgot to eat properly. And he certainly wasn’t getting enough sleep. Miles made a mental note to make sure that would change.

“Hey,” Brad said, dropping his backpack near the front door. “Where’s Charlie?”

“Hi,” Miles said. “He’s napping in my room. How was your day?”

Brad’s eyes widened as if he were surprised someone was even interested in him. “It was okay. State testing is in two weeks, so we’re cramming the last chapters in.”

Miles wanted to hear more, but Connor walked in, per his request.

“Brad,” he nodded.

Brad did a half-ass awkward wave that Miles thought was endearing. He could be so clumsy and clueless at times.

“Let’s talk,” Connor said. He lowered his impressive body on one of the chairs.

Brad crumpled his nose. “Talk?”

“Yeah,” Miles said. “I asked Connor to meet us here. We need to talk about Charlie’s boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Brad corrected, plopping down on the couch. “And what does this have to do with you?”

Miles sighed. “Really, Brad? You don’t think the fact that I am an FBI agent, let alone the reality that the three of us are involved gives me the right to discuss this?”

Brad had the decency to look halfway embarrassed. “I was handling it with Connor,” he said.

“Fine. And now you can handle it with Connor and with me. Start talking.”

Connor barely reacted, but his eyes sparkled. “I asked my former partner to do a little digging on Waitley. Turns out, he’s the kinda cop that gives the rest of us a bad name. His ex-girlfriend filed charges for assault and battery twice, but retracted them both times.”

Miles cursed softly. “Classic for battered wife syndrome.”

“Yeah,” Connor said. “His former partner says he stalked her as well. He reported it to Internal Affairs, but Waitley found out and laid low.”

“What about the dash cam video?” Brad asked.

Miles frowned. “What video?”

“You didn’t tell him?” Connor asked.

Brad shook his head.

“Waitley pulled him over a couple of days ago,” Connor said. Miles’ stomach turned sour. “Our Brad here had a dash cam installed, one that not only records video, but sound as well. Waitley wanted to know where Charlie was, threatened Brad in a non-specific manner if he didn’t tell. The good news is that he all but confessed to the domestic abuse.”

“And you didn’t share this with me, why?” he asked Brad, his voice ice cold. Brad shifted on the couch, crossed his arms, then uncrossed them again, but didn’t say anything. “This is not something you keep from me, Brad. This is the kind of thing you tell me immediately.”

“Why? It’s none of your business. What we have is sex, man, nothing else. That gives you the fucking right to know shit.”

Brad’s defense mechanism was in fine form again, Miles noted. In situations like this, he was damn grateful for the training he’d had to stay in the present, to keep his mind engaged, rather than let his emotions take over.

“I swear to God, Brad, if you ever say something like that again, I will spank your bare ass, do you hear me? Do not, I repeat, do not insult my feelings for you and for Charlie by referring to it as mere sex.”

Brad’s mouth dropped open slightly. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Miles’ eyes narrowed. “Don’t tempt me. If you insist on acting like a brat, I will fucking treat you as one. Feel free to deny your own feelings, but don’t you dare disrespect me and Charlie like that. I know you’re scared, but that doesn’t give you the right to decide for us what we feel.”

“I’m not scared.” Brad was adorable when he tried to be all tough, but his voice came out trembling.

“Honey, you’re scared as fuck. I haven’t quite figured out what you’re scared of and why, but I’ll get there. Do we have an understanding, Brad? Do you hear what I’m telling you?”

“You’ll spank me if I say it’s just sex,” Brad said slowly, his voice throaty.

Connor chuckled. “He likes the idea,” he said. “Look at him. His pupils are dilated, he’s flushed, and he’s breathing fast. He’s fucking aroused.”

Connor would know, considering his activities with Josh, but Miles had already come to the same conclusion. “Is he right, honey?” he asked Brad. Brad’s eyes shot down to the floor, as he fidgeted with his hands. “I asked you a question, Brad.”

His eyes flew up again. “I don’t know, okay? Yes, maybe. How the fuck would I know? I’ve never… How would I know?”

Miles nodded, satisfied. They’d have to revisit this topic at a later time, preferably not in front of Connor, and with Charlie present as well. “Okay, I’ll accept that. Now tell me about the video. Is it usable?”

“Yes and no,” Connor said. “It’s legal in New York to record police officers without their permission, so the video will be admissible in a court of law. The problem is that it would only be useful if Charlie decided to press charges for assault. Without that, there’s not much you can do. Legally.”

“Will he press charges?” Miles asked Brad.

He’d looked confused when Miles had shifted the conversation so quickly back to the video after their spanking discussion, but he was alert now.

“I honestly don’t know,” Brad said. “He’s scared of him. He refused to go to a hospital because he was scared Zack would kill him. I don’t know if he meant that in the literal sense or was more expressing a general sense of fear or retribution.”

Connor dragged a hand through his short hair. “He’s got reason to be scared, especially after what Waitley did to him. Was this the first time?”

“No. I’ve seen him with bruises a few times, but he denied it was Zack. Blake let him stay at his house a while back when he spotted Charlie being hurt. Charlie admitted he’d been beaten, then, but still went back.”

The hurt and self-blame was easy to spot. “It’s not your fault, honey,” Miles said, his voice soft.

“I should have dragged him away from that fucking asshole,” Brad said.

Connor sighed. “I know you feel that way, but the truth is that abuse victims cannot be helped until they’re ready to accept help. Charlie made his own choices, Brad, and my guess is that he doesn’t blame you at all.”

He doesn’t have to, Miles thought. Brad was blaming himself way more than Charlie ever would or could. “Let’s assume Charlie doesn’t want to press charges. Where does that leave us?” he asked.

“Legally, nowhere,” Connor said.

“You keep using that word, legally,” Brad remarked. “What do you mean by that? Are you implying there’s another route, illegally?”

Miles smiled. “I think Connor is testing the waters, considering he’s no longer on the force, but I am still a federal agent.”

Brad humphed. “As if you wouldn’t walk through fire to keep Charlie safe.”

The casual way he once again expressed his belief in Miles’ character hit him deep. “How can you say that, yet not believe I have feelings for you?”

“Holy fuck, can you let it go?” Brad snapped. “Let’s focus on the problem at hand, okay?”

“You wanna watch your tone there, Brad. I’m getting mighty tired of you taking my head off all the time.”

“Fuck you. You’re not my dad!”

Max woke up from his slumber on the floor and raised his head to check what was happening. Brad jumped off the couch and stormed off into the bedroom, though still managing to open and close the door quietly because of Charlie. Max got up, seemed to shake his head at Miles, then followed Brad to the bedroom, softly howling until Brad opened the door to let him in.

Miles leaned back, rubbing his neck. One step forward, two steps back.

“He’s a good kid, deep down,” Connor remarked.

“The best,” Miles agreed. “You should see how tender he is with Charlie. It’s me he graces with his lethal defenses.”

Connor leaned back in his chair. “Sometimes we hurt the ones we love the most to see if they’ll stay.”

Miles sighed. “Yeah. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking hurt, though.”

They shared a comfortable silence for a bit.

“I was surprised to find you here when I arrived,” Miles changed the subject. He’d been dying for a one-on-one with Connor to put his feelers out, and here was finally his chance. “Last thing I heard you were in Boston, recruiting, and weeks later I find you back here with your man. Or men, I should say.”

Connor smiled. “The Feds keeping tabs on me?”

“You knew we were. Anyone connected to Indy was being watched, but you were of interest especially.”

“I’m flattered.”

Miles smiled. The guy was a Marine and a cop—and it showed. He was every bit as cool as Miles under pressure. “You wanna fill me in on the truth?”

Connor got up, slapped him good-naturedly on his shoulder, which left him reeling. “Nah. You’re a wicked smart man, Miles. You’ll figure it out.”

Miles mulled it over, as Connor walked upstairs. He’d gotten to know all the people that had once been names in a file so much better. Indy, the ultimate survivor who hadn’t merely build a new life here, but was thriving. He was at the very center of this house, keeping everyone together with sheer love.

Then there was Noah, whose love for Indy was palpable. He came across as aloof and stern, until Indy entered the room, and then that face lit up like a Christmas tree. Miles had heard of the expression being the light in someone’s life, but he’d never seen it in reality, until he’d seen how Noah responded to Indy’s presence.

Added to the mix were Josh and Connor, the sweet introvert and his bossy cop who knew exactly what Josh needed. And who, apparently, seemed to accept that Josh and Indy had a special relationship as well. If Noah and Indy together were light, Josh and Connor were fire…but Josh and Indy were like the wind. You couldn’t quite catch it, but boy, did it have power.

It’s why the whole story didn’t make sense to Miles. Connor in Boston, cozying up to criminals with a known hate for the Fitzpatricks. Him breaking up with Josh, who was clearly the love of his life, on the same day Indy was taken into FBI custody. Josh, who by all accounts suffered a brutal mental breakdown in the veteran hospital he’d been admitted to. Miles had seen the file, courtesy of his boss, and the list of meds Josh had been administered would knock an elephant out.

Then there was Noah, still physically recovering from his amputation surgery, when he was dealt a severe blow by Indy’s departure. Noah and Josh back together according to the file, Indy in Kansas, Connor in Boston. What were the chances that these four who were more intimately linked than any men he’d ever met before had been truly apart? He didn’t buy it.

He’d looked over the files and reports of the shooting in Boston. The cops had worked with the Feds and other experts to determine what had happened. They’d figured out where the shots had come from—an apartment building across the street—but that was it. Speculation was rife, with theories ranging from the CIA’s involvement to Russian sharpshooters being hired by a rival mobster family.

One fact had puzzled everyone on this case: the accuracy of the shots. The shooter had nailed them in rapid successions with shots straight to the heart, and all that from a long distance, with a standard military issue rifle.

A standard military issue rifle. The one army snipers used, like Specialist Joshua Gordon. His army file had been thick with praises about his accuracy as a sniper. The same Joshua Gordon who’d been drugged out of his mind in a mental health care facility, all documented, yet who had shown up here doing remarkably well for someone who had a complete breakdown weeks before.

It had to have been Josh who shot them, somehow aided by Connor. The fact that Connor had been on an undercover job with the Boston PD and had been in Boston when that shit had gone down? Too much of a coincidence. The FBI had thought he’d been recruiting for the Fitzpatricks, but Miles’ suspicion was that he was the guy who had managed organize a mutiny against them—and handed them all on a silver platter to the Boston PD.

Miles had no idea how they had pulled it off—Connor and Josh, because Indy had not been involved, that much Miles was sure of, and Noah probably neither—but he would bet all his money on Josh being the shooter. And now he was living in his house, enjoying his hospitality. It was crazy as fuck, wasn’t it?

Miles should care, on some level. He was a federal agent, and he had no business condoning vigilante justice, not even implicitly. And yet he had felt zero urge to report his suspicions.

Instead, he found himself admiring the sheer balls of this particular operation. And having read the bulging file on the crimes of the Fitzpatricks, especially the vicious attack on Stephan Moreau and the brutal murder on DA Merrick and his family, Miles couldn’t say he was sorry these men were dead. The legal system had failed Stephan and others, but in the end, justice had been served.

It had truly been the only solution to bring Indy freedom. Even if the justice department had succeeded in getting a conviction for the top Fitzpatrick leaders—and that would have taken a year at least—Indy would’ve always had to look over his shoulder. He was truly free now. Plus, three of the lowest lowlifes were dead. Miles could not have a problem with that, as much as he maybe should.

Maybe it said a lot about his motivation, or lack thereof, for his job. He’d loved it at first, but the last few years had been tough. It was a somewhat sobering realization he’d made since staying in this house, how fucking lonely he’d been. He’d kept people at such arms’ length that he’d been starving for contact, both emotionally and physically. Being here, in this house, with all these men, it was like water for his barren soul. And fuck, the physical contact…people touching him, hugging him without caring that he’d get hard. It brought tears to his eyes at times.

It was the first time as long as he could remember that he’d felt truly accepted. Even with Casey, he’d always had to hold back. Here, he walked around with just PJ bottoms on, no double tight boxers, and no one gave a shit of they saw his pants tent. It was a freedom he’d never had.

And interestingly enough, he could already sense a difference in himself, even physically. At first, every casual touch had gotten him hard, desperate as he’d been for human contact. Now, it had become easier. He was still hard half the time, but not as quickly.

More important were the friendships and of course, Brad and Charlie. Miles had no fucking idea where the three of them were headed, but he wasn’t ready to walk away. And as soon as he was back on the job, he would have to walk away. Aside from the fact that the FBI might not tolerate a ménage relationship, Miles himself didn’t want it. If nothing else, his failed relationship with Casey had taught him that his job didn’t mesh with a relationship. Maybe it was time to start looking for something else.

So yeah, he did value the friendship with all of these men over doing his duty, especially when that duty would bring nothing good. The Fitzpatricks were dead, justice had been done, and those that remained in the organization would get their day in court. Case closed, as far as he was concerned. Maybe in a few years time, he could ask Josh and Connor how the fuck they had pulled it off.

But right this moment, he had two more pressing problems. Well, three actually. The most pressing one was that he needed to come, since the pressure in his balls had been building up to a damn uncomfortable level. Then there was Brad, who needed a good night’s sleep, a solid meal or two, and a massive orgasm. After that, they had to come up with a plan to keep Charlie safe from his ex, because the kid hadn’t left the house since he got here, and that couldn’t continue.

Miles nodded. Now that his priorities were sorted, he knew what to do.