Page 38 of Piece Us Together
“I love you, too.” I lean back, wanting to look him in the eyes. I narrow mine in my best attempt to glare intimidatingly at him. “Now eat your fucking omelet.”
It’s weird at first, waiting for our next night with Hunter. It’s like a strange timebomb. Asexbomb. Tick, tick, ticking away—and no one in the house knows about it but us.
By the end of the first week though, it’s less weird and more…insanity-inducing. Like an itch I can’t scratch. An itch I know Hunter will scratch, once I wait long enough.
We’re all starting to finally sink into a routine in the house now that everything is unpacked and everyone’s gotten a chance toadjust. Casey spends most of his time in the pool. Bryce spends most of his time out of the house, usually stalking Carter at the pub he bartends at—it’s only a matter of time before he gets a job there himself, in my opinion. Max spends most of his time in his room, trying not to show how heartbroken he is being separated from the undercover agent who sent him off to live with us with no regard for his feelings about it. Matt spends most of his time with Ace in his office, with his nose buried in gardening books as he plans our house’s garden for spring, or in the kitchen trying to steal bites of my food whenever I look away.
When they aren’t spending time with me and Casey, Maison and Jake spend their time talking on phones, working out, and murmuring quietly to themselves. I try not to worry about that. I’m also trying not to worry about how often Travis has been over, both with and without Carter. I tell myself it’s because this house is much closer to him and Carter’s apartment than the safehouse, so it’s just easier for him to come by. That only gets me so far, though. Especially when the guys all stop talking whenever I walk in the room and that furrow between Maison’s eyebrows seems to get deeper every day.
I spend most of my time with the others, but when I’m alone, I spend it thinking about Hunter. About Hunter, Maison, and me. About our night together. About our night coming up. About themorethat we could maybe have. About what that could mean. About kneeling. About sucking cock. About being fucked by both of them. About being a good boy.
I spend a lot of time painfully hard.
I spend a lot of time with Maison’s cock helping me alleviate the itch, the man usually smirking at me as he fucks me, confident enough in our love for each other that he even outright says things like, “Were you thinking about Hunter, baby?” and, “Did you get excited thinking about next weekend?” and, “Wasmy dirty boy thinking about all the naughty things Hunter and I are going to do to him?”
It helps a little, but the itch always comes back.
At least there’s the promise that was made about the cats to keep me distracted.
Matt—and therefore the rest of us—was promised cats at this new house. Which means that on a freezing cold day, when only half the house is awake—and that half is only half-awake—Matt suddenly appears with his coat, hat, and scarf already on and the sign forcatplaying on repeat across his hands.
No one even groans, which is proof enough that Matt has superpowers that make everyone all soft for him. Which I can’t be upset about because if anyone in this world deserves such powers, it’s Matt. Still… it would have been nice to get to finish my coffee, at least.
There’s a lot of sleepy shuffling, some knocks on bedroom doors, wrinkled clothes pulled on, a call to Carter made, and then we’re off, separated into two vehicles, ready to go pick out some new members of our crazy crew.
Travis and Carter meet us at the animal rescue, Travis looking sleep-rumpled and grumpy and Carter looking flushed and pleased. It’s kind of nice to look at the two of them and not feel that old tug in my gut. There’s no lingering jealousy or want anymore now that Hunter has filled the gap inside of me. It’s a relief, like I can actually breathe around one of my closest friends and the man he loves.
The young woman working the front desk of the rescue looks slightly overwhelmed as we all filter in. It probably doesn’t help that Maison and Jake step forward, Travis and Ace lingering just behind them, and all four are—objectively—very fucking hot. From the way her eyes widen, she’s picking up on that.
“How—how can I help you?”
“Cats,” five of us say at once.
“At least two of them,” Bryce adds.
“Preferably little—like kittens,” Carter suggests.
“But we’ll take sad or grumpy old ones too,” Casey says with a wink at Jake that issogoing to get him in trouble later.
Matt taps Ace’s shoulder, starting to sign as Ace speaks his words for him. “And they should be friends, or at least get along with other cats because we want them to be friends.”
“O-okay. Let me show you to the cat room. Um—you’ll have to take turns. There’s not enough room for all of you at once. It’s a six-person limit.” She gulps like we might riot at this news. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s alright,” Bryce assures her with an easy, confident smile I’ve been seeing more and more from him lately. He even walks toward her with a slight swagger. She softens immediately, clearly charmed. “We’ll take turns, no problem. Anything else we should know?”
She dives into a quick rundown of washing hands and watching your step and avoiding loud noises. She’ll accompany us, since she has all the information on the cats in case we have questions. Her eyes nervously dart to the rest of the group, lingering a little on the operatives as if she can sense that they’re the dangerous ones. Funnily enough, I’m pretty damn sure Bryce could outdo all of us on danger levels, if he let himself fully unhinge. I’ve seen that man when he’s heated. If he’d had a weapon in his hand at the time, there would have been pure carnage.
“You can all wait out here. Look at any animals you want, but don’t touch or remove any from their cages, please.”
Ace gives her a mock salute that amuses him and his friends more than anyone else.
Without needing to discuss it, we survivors head into the cat room first. She follows with a clipboard and an easier smile.
There are a few cats that immediately flock to us, while others hang around the edges of the room or on top of their furniture to assess us from afar.
Despite being the one who wanted cats, Matt lingers near the door like he’s suddenly afraid. I sidle up next to him as Casey and Carter get their attention snagged by a small kitten playing with two bigger cats on the floor. Bryce is already in a staring contest with a fat, grumpy-looking orange cat perched on top of a cat tree.
“Don’t you want to play with the cats?”