Page 23 of Omega in Love
"Come here,” he whispers, the single word carrying more command than any military order I’ve ever received, and I’m powerless to resist. The pull of him is magnetic, inevitable as gravity.
The scents in the room intensify as our body heat rises, creating an intimate atmosphere that’s almost visible in the dim light. Levi’s warm vanilla scent wraps around us like a blanket, comforting and sweet. Dante’s sharp cedarwood cuts through with clarity and strength. My own sandalwood adds depth and warmth, all of us circling around Brookes’ rose fragrance like planets around a sun, his scent the center of our shared universe.The combination is heady and intoxicating, a chemical reaction that feels almost sacred. I watch as Brookes inhales deeply, his eyelids fluttering, tension visibly leaving his body as he breathes us in.
I climb onto the bed taking Brookes’ spot between Levi and Dante, feeling the heat of their bodies on either side of me. Brookes shifts with graceful purpose until his head rests on my chest, the weight of him solid and real against me, grounding me to this moment. His hair tickles my chin, and I resist the urge to press my lips to the crown of his head. I exhale slowly, forcing my muscles to relax one by one, a deliberate surrender of the vigilance that’s kept me alive for years. His heartbeat quickens where we touch, a rapid flutter against my steadier rhythm, and mine adjusts to match his, our bodies syncing in this most basic way. I hold him, one arm curved protectively around his shoulders, and bask in the bliss of being with him, of us being with him like this. Not as guards, not as protectors, but as men who’ve found something worth protecting.
Fingers begin to wander, tentative at first, then bolder. The need to touch him is too strong for either of us to ignore. My thumb traces the jut of his hipbone where the hoodie has ridden up, the skin there warm and inviting. Dante’s hand slides along his spine, counting vertebrae with a tenderness that belies his usual stoic demeanor. Levi’s fingers thread through Brookes’ hair, massaging his scalp until he makes a sound halfway between a sigh and a moan, a sound that sends a shiver of anticipation down my own spine.
“Is this okay?” I murmur against his temple, and feel him nod against my chest, his hair tickling my chin. The scent of him, that sweet rose fragrance, fills my senses, exciting me.
“More than okay,” he breathes, and then he’s moving, shifting his weight until he’s straddling my lap, knees on eitherside of my hips. The warmth of him, the solid weight of him, is almost too much to bear.
The new position brings our faces level, and I can see the war of emotions in his eyes, desire fighting fear, need battling caution. He bites his lower lip, and I have to clench my fists in the sheets to stop myself from chasing the motion with my own mouth, to stop myself from tasting him.
“I just want to feel. . .something real,” he says, so quietly I almost miss it. His voice is raw, laid bare, and it tugs at something deep within me.
Then he leans forward, closing the distance between us, and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is gentle at first, a question, not a demand. When I respond, cradling the back of his neck with one hand, he makes a soft sound of surrender that travels straight to my dick. His lips are softer than I imagined, and I’ve imagined them countless times. The taste of him is sweet, like the first sip of water after a long drought.
He pulls back, eyes searching mine, and I see the moment he finds what he’s looking for. Something settles in him, tension releasing from his shoulders as he turns toward Dante, his body still pressed against mine, our hearts beating in sync. The connection between us is electric, alive, and I can feel it pulsing in the air, drawing us all closer together.
Their kiss is different, fire where ours was earth. Dante’s control is legendary, but it slips as Brookes nips at his bottom lip, drawing a growl from deep in his chest. Brookes smiles against his mouth, pleased with the reaction, before breaking away to face Levi.
Levi cradles Brookes’ jaw like he’s holding something precious, thumbs brushing his cheekbones before their lips meet. Their kiss is reverent, unhurried, and I feel the ghost of it on my own mouth.
The room grows warmer as hands become more adventurous, the air thick with desire and possibility. Brookes shifts his weight, creating delicious friction against my hardening length that pulls a low, unrestrained moan from deep in my throat. His fingers slide under my shirt, tracing the ridges of my abdomen with curious intent, each touch leaving fire in its wake. I fight the urge to buck upward as his fingertips dip just beneath my waistband, teasing.
Dante’s hand disappears beneath the hoodie Brookes wears, exploring the smooth skin of his back, the flex and shift of lean muscle. Watching them, seeing the hunger in Dante’s usually guarded expression, sends another wave of arousal through me. Levi kisses a path down Brookes’ neck, each press of lips making him shiver against me, his body responding with tiny, involuntary jerks that drive me wild.
We’re careful not to push too far. This isn’t about sex, not yet. It’s about connection, about trust being built touch by touch. About Brookes allowing himself to be open with us, and us proving we deserve the precious gift he’s offering. I want to devour him whole, but more than that, I want him to feel safe in his surrender.
Brookes rocks against me, his ass grinding down in a way that makes my vision blur at the edges. He gasps, the sound half-swallowed when I grip his hips to guide the motion, my fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks. His eyes close, head tilting back in abandon as Dante leans in and kisses his exposed throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. Levi’s hand slips under the hem of the hoodie, resting warm and steady on Brookes’ side, thumb stroking hypnotic circles.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, unable to contain the truth any longer, the words torn from somewhere deep and honest inside me.
His eyes fly open, darkened with arousal but suddenly shy, a flush spreading across his cheekbones like watercolor on wet paper. He looks startled, as if beauty is the last thing he expected to be called in this moment, as if he can’t possibly see what we all see in him.
The exploration continues, each of us learning Brookes’ body through cloth and skin with increasing urgency. My hands map the dip of his spine, the curve of his ass, while Dante’s fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just enough to make Brookes whimper. Levi’s mouth finds the sensitive spot behind his ear, and soon Brookes is trembling not with nervousness but with undisguised pleasure, his body a live wire between us. His grinding becomes more deliberate, his dick hard against my stomach, and I have to breathe through my teeth, counting backward from ten, to maintain even a semblance of control.
“We should slow down,” Dante murmurs, always the tactician, always thinking three steps ahead, though I can see the strain of restraint in the tightness around his eyes, the tension in his jaw.
Brookes makes a disappointed sound, half whine, half groan, but nods, collapsing forward onto my chest. His breathing is ragged, matching my own, hot puffs against my collarbone that make me ache to flip him over, to pin him down. I would love to watch him fall apart in my arms, to feel him come undone against me, but this isn’t the time for physical release. Not yet. This moment is too fragile, too important to rush. Levi presses his forehead between Brookes’ shoulder blades, his lips moving in what might be a silent prayer, while Dante’s hand continues to stroke soothingly along Brookes’ side, his touch a promise of what’s to come.
We shift and rearrange until we’re a tangle of limbs, half on top of each other, breath syncing into a shared rhythm. Brookes’ cheek rests against my heart, his fingers curled into my shirt likehe’s anchoring himself to me. His weight, slight compared to what I’m used to carrying, feels exactly right, like a missing piece sliding into place.
I brush my hands down the side of his face, tracing the elegant line of his jaw, the slight hollow beneath his cheekbone. I’m overcome with tenderness for this man who has been through so much and still finds the courage to try. To trust. To let us in.
“Heart,” I murmur, the word slipping out before I can catch it. It emerges from someplace deep inside me, a truth I didn’t plan to reveal so soon.
Brookes freezes against me, every muscle going tense. His fingers tighten in my shirt, and his breath stops altogether. For one horrible moment, I think I’ve ruined everything, pushed too far, too fast.
Then he melts, his body becoming liquid warmth against mine, tension draining away like water.
“Say that again,” he whispers, voice small but steady. There’s wonder in those three words.
“Heart,” I repeat, pressing my lips to his temple, breathing in the lingering scent of roses that clings to his skin. “My heart.”
He makes a sound that might be a laugh or might be a sob, muffled against my chest. I feel the vibration of it more than hear it. “You’re all so stupid,” he says, but there’s no bite to the words, just a fragile disbelief. “So fucking stupid for wanting me.”
In those words, I hear all his ghosts, everyone who treated him as disposable, as less-than. The family who abandoned him, the industry that uses him, the monsters who hurt him. I wish I could go back and stand between him and every harm that ever came his way.
