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I needed more. “Hit me.”

He recoiled. “God no. Luke, don't ask for that.”

I arched up. I wanted more contact with him. “Want to feel your marks on me long after we're done.”

“No. Don't.” He moved in me again and showered me with kisses, giving me all of him, loving me. “We're never going to be done.”

I turned my head and savored the skin of his neck. I bit down, not a playful tease but a close-to-drawing-blood chomp.

Richard cried out in pain.

“Luke!” Matthew screamed. “Stop. Please.”

I released Richard, and he jerked back.

“Punish me.”

Rage flooded his eyes. It didn't matter what made him mad. I wanted his anger. I needed it.

“Luke, goddammit. I won't hurt you.”

“I want to give in to you. I need you to make it hurt.” My begging was fruitless, but I couldn't stop myself.

“It isn't what I want. And I don't want you to want it. Don't ask me to hurt you.” Tears pooled in his eyes. He untied one of my wrists, then the other.

“No!” I tried to jerk away.

He held my face in his hands. “I want to make love to you. I think that's what you need. Not this other shit.” He kissed me.

I pressed harder against his lips, and he pulled back, keeping his touch soft. Matthew found my neck with his warm lips. His soothing hands covered my body.

I gave in and wrapped around Richard. He didn't plunge. He didn't fuck. He pushed in and out in slow, long thrusts that broke my resolve.

He took my cock in his hand. “Come with me, Luke.”

But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

Cum, sweat, and tears covered my body. Matthew kissed me everywhere, and Richard glided his hand over my chest in a tender caress.

Matthew spoke first. “Are you okay, Luke?”

“I'm fine.”

“Talk to us, please.” He wrapped his arm around me. Tight. Restraining.

I shrugged him off and sat up. “I said I'm fine. Drop it.”

He reached for me again.

I pushed him away. “Get the fuck off me.” I scrambled off the bed.

The hurt look on his face stung. But I couldn't take it back or apologize. I fetched my clothes and went for the door. “I've gotta get out of here.”

My father was right. Eventually I'd lose them. It'd be better if I left, better if they didn't have to make that choice for me. Better if my father didn't try to either.

I made it up the stairs, clean, clothed, keys in hand, and out the door in no time. I walked several blocks before I found a cab. I didn't know if they followed. They weren't there to stop me, and that's what mattered.

There was one place where I'd get what I needed.

And nothing could have stopped me.

The cab dropped me off two blocks from my destination. I wanted to take some time to think things through before I got there. But it wasn't enough time. Or maybe it was just right.

I stood at the unmarked door.

This is what I need. What I've been missing.

I scanned my card and stepped into the Haven for the first time in months.

I handed my coat off and strolled to the bar, the scents of the room invading me. A mix of various colognes, musky sweat, cigars, and booze. A bartender I didn't recognize brought me a beer, and I drank it down fast. My stomach clenched. Whether out of anticipation or guilt, I didn't care.

I needed to be there.

I didn't have long to wait. A thigh grazed my leg as someone slid alongside my stool. The man ordered a draft and gave me a long stare. He was tall and large. Almost Richard's size. His hair and eyes were dark like Matthew's.

Don't think about them.

I stared at the man. He stared back. He wanted me.

This is what I need.

“You're Luke, right?”

I nodded, not sure I wanted to know how he knew me or what he'd heard. I needed something specific, and nothing was going to get in the way.

“I've heard you're good,” he said. “You have plans for tonight?” He took a long swig of his beer. Sweat clung to the hair around his ears and forehead. Black crescent-shaped residue inhabited the tips of his fingernails. A white powder had seeped into every crevice of the dry, cracked skin on his hands. He smelled of drywall and melted plastic.

A man who worked with his hands. His fingers on my flesh would be rough, calloused. They'd scrape, chafe. They wouldn't caress or console. They wouldn't remind me of anyone.

“I do now,” I said.

“Sure you do.” He placed a hand on my knee and yanked. My body swung with the stool, and I faced him.

The touch felt wrong— incredibly wrong. I pushed the reaction aside. “What are you into?”

He smirked. “I can be a pretty damn good Dom if you wanna go that route, or we can just fuck. Your call.”

He gave my leg a tug. I slid off the stool and stood before him, our bodies close enough that his warmth invaded my space. A shudder worked its way through me.
Desire. This has to be desire.

I attempted a deep breath. “I want you to tie me up. I need you to hit me. Make me hurt. You do that, then you can fuck me.”

The man's Adam's apple jerked as he swallowed. He wanted it.

“Flogger?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Whip?”

I nodded again.

“My hands?”

I moved a few steps away and turned back to him. “Any way you want. I'll give it all over to you.”

The man stood. He grasped my arm and dragged me toward the stairs.

Toward the rooms upstairs.

Toward a mistake that would change my life.

I trudged down the stairs, sat at the bar, and ordered a water. The cool liquid didn't quell the nausea. It increased it. My heartbeat pulsed in my temples, behind my eyes, at the tip of each finger.

I fumbled in my pocket for my cell phone, flipped it open, and stared at it. Another drink of the water, and thirst still stung my throat. I ran my thumb over the buttons on the phone. Without hitting a single one, I clamped it shut and slammed it on the bar.

They didn't deserve to get that call.

But they didn't deserve not to either.

I grabbed the phone again and clutched it in a shaking hand.

A large hand stilled my own. I glanced up.

Walter stood beside me. “Call them.”

“Can't. I got lax. Led my father right to them. They deserve better.”

He cupped my jaw and jerked my face in his direction. “That's bullshit. They deserve to have what they want. You.” He took the cell from me. He dialed and handed it back.

Our home phone number filled the display. The bold numbers blurred together.

“Whatever is going on with you, call them, tell them. You don't have to do this alone.” He leaned in close. “You deserve to be loved.” He left without another word.

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to be more than what my father thought of me. I wanted to hold on to Richard and Matthew and never let go. But would they still want me?

I hit the call button. The low, deep voice that answered didn't sound at all confident.

I couldn't speak.

“Luke?” Richard said. “Where are you?”

“At the club. I— ”

“Stay right there. We're on our way.”

“Matthew can't— ”

“He's with me. They'll let him in. Don't move.” Richard hung up.

I flipped the cell phone closed and clenched it in my fist. If I so much as moved to set it down, I might be gone when they got there.

Richard looked ill. If I hadn't seen him a short while earlier, I'd have thought he spent the last three days with a bad case of the flu. His dark skin had never been so pale. His eyes were dull and packed with a new expression. Fear? Pain? Disappointment?

Matthew didn't look much better. He chewed on his bottom lip and held his hands in front of him, the thumb of one hand rubbing the fingers of the other.

I had done that to them. I turned back toward the bar.

Richard sat next to me, and Matthew moved closer.

“What did you do?” Richard asked.

I swallowed hard. “He said he'd give me— he said he'd hit me.”

Richard's fingers dug into the edge of the bar. He stared at the line of liquor bottles in front of the large mirror. “What did you do?”

“I didn't fuck him. I wanted to. God, I almost did. I made it all the way up the stairs and in a room.”

Matthew sucked in a quick, ragged breath.

“I didn't touch him or let him touch me. I didn't kiss him. I wanted him to hit me, but I couldn't even let him do that. Once the door closed, I knew I didn't want anything from him.”

“Why?” Matthew asked.

“I couldn't. I've made promises to you. And it's more than that— ”

“No.” He stepped closer. The firm muscles of his abdomen brushed my arm. I ached to feel more of him. “Why did you want him? And not us? Why did you come here?” His body trembled and swayed. His eyes didn't focus on anything. I wanted to reach out to him, steady him, but I couldn't.

“Oh. I— ”

Before I could say more, Richard spoke. “What are you afraid of? Don't think. Answer.”

“Driving you away. Not being able to stop you from leaving me when I'm not what you want.” I clenched my hands into fists, the phone still clutched inside. “I'm messed up when it comes to emotional stuff. When my dad called, I wanted to run— but I didn't know how to leave you.”

Richard let go of the bar and swung around. He caught sight of Matthew. The big man's eyebrows drew in, and concern softened the fear and anger visible on his face. He grabbed Matthew and pulled him close. The smaller man leaned his hip against a thick thigh. His shaking body stilled.

“You need to talk to us,” Richard said.

“I talk. I talk to you two more than I've ever talked to anyone. I've given up the way I live to be with you.”

“I'm glad you're more open with us than you've ever been, but that's sad, pathetic.”

I threw the phone on the bar. “I've given more to you than I have to anyone. What else can I do?”

“You've come far. You've done things you swore you never would. Sleeping with us again after the first night. Moving in with us. Throwing the rubbers in the trash. They were a lot of huge steps for you.”

All I could do was nod. Huge steps. Gigantic steps. Walk-on-the-moon-sized steps.

“Matthew and I have been communicating. You've heard us. You've listened. But you haven't talked. Not about anything personal. Not about your dad. Not about why you won't tell anyone where you live.”

My words were barely a whisper. I hoped like hell they could hear me over the music and crowd in the bar because repeating it didn't seem an option. “I want to talk to you.”

Richard put his arm around me and hauled me against him. “Let's go home. Get in our own bed. You can talk there, just the three of us.”

Matthew pressed his lips to my ear. “Please, Luke. Come home.”

I met his dark eyes and nodded. Then I did what I'd needed to do since they'd arrived. I took Matthew's face in my hands and kissed him.

“Take me home.”

Matthew held my hand as he led me up the stairs to our bedroom. No one had spoken a word on the ride home, and the silence loomed like a thick fog I couldn't see through. They were going to expect me to fill the quiet, to tell them about my past, to tell them about the day I lost the two most important men in my life before them.

Richard undressed me and then himself while Matthew shed his own clothes. Matthew took my hand in his again and brought me to the bed. The cool sheets triggered a shiver. The blood went cold in my hands and feet.

For once, I sat between them and let them touch me, hold me. My body warmed, but I still shook. Nothing in my life had prepared me for giving more than my body to someone.

When Richard spoke, his voice was stern. “Talk. The truth— all of it. Nothing you say is wrong. Nothing you want to tell us about is wrong. Just be honest.”

“I'm always fighting with myself. I work hard to push away who I am— to never let anyone see me, know me.” I took a deep breath. “You two are who you are. You don't deceive. You're always truthful.” I turned to Matthew. “How do you love so easily?”

His eyes widened. “I don't want to live without it. I don't want to be alone. I want to really know someone. Let him know me. Feel the connection of intimacy... of love. I've ached without it.”

Once again, his openness, his ability to let his love flow out of him, amazed me.

I faced Richard. “How did you know this would work? At first you didn't seem to want to be with someone a second time. Then we're on a date, moving in, committing. I don't understand what you saw in us.”

“When I went to the club, I wasn't ready to get involved, not after Gregg. I wanted a fuck, nothing more. Then when I met you two, I could see who you were and how much you needed.” He gestured to Matthew. “He needed someone to give him room to find himself and be confident without feeling like he had to be what others wanted him to be. Someone to need him. To accept him as he is. To appreciate him, cherish him.”

Matthew stared at Richard for a moment, then shot out of the bed and sprinted for the bathroom.

Richard pitched forward and peered into the small room. “Kid?”

Matthew darted out and threw a box of tissues on the bed. “This has the potential to get all emotional, and we're naked. Tissues are better than sheets.”

Richard shook his head and chuckled.

A hyena-like laugh gripped me. My shoulders shuddered, and my eyes filled with moisture, a release of tension hidden beneath the laughter.

Matthew grabbed a tissue and dabbed at my eyes. “See?”

That brought out another laugh from Richard.

My life would never be dull with them.

I breathed deep, and my head struck the headboard. The exhaustion of dealing with emotional shit had settled in every nerve, every muscle. And I hadn't said anything yet. But telling them too much could mean more trouble than I'd ever want to expose them to. No. Telling them wasn't the problem. Staying with them was all that my father cared about. What would he do to keep me away from them?

The laughter died off, and Richard spoke again. “When we talked about trying this, I could see your nervousness, Luke, your reluctance. But when I stopped you at the door and you didn't leave— you sat there shaking— I knew you needed us. Like we needed you.” He reached for my hand. “Why were you scared when your dad called? Why did you leave tonight?”