Page 67 of Wristlocked
“Oh, holy fuck.Godyes,” Gia gasps, her rhythm dissolving into frantic thrusts. Everything narrows, a dizzying coil of need and pulse and sweat and strain. The hot spill of Lyot’s cum coats my fingers, and I follow him into oblivion.
Totally. Fucking. Worth it.
33
Lyot
We’re back to our regular schedule the next day, and between training and taking care of Jamie, the events of the weekend are starting to feel like a dream. Gia is full of naughty looks and quick, groping kisses, and Gale’s casual bumps and brushes in the gym carry a whole new subtext, but it’s practically impossible to actually find the time to be alone. I take a lot of cold showers, trying not to think about Gia in the strap-on, or how Gale is starting to look at me the way he looks at her—hot and possessive, with a different kind of challenge in his eyes.
Our new resident junkie is a depressing distraction, now deep in his detox. He’s antsy and snappish during the day, at least when he’s awake, and a restless mess at night. We take the days in shifts, Gia even convincing Gale to let our friends be backup so no one has to miss too many classes, and Jamie is never left alone. Jules is the best at getting him to eat. Vaya and Ren watch endless reruns ofRick and MortyandIt’s Always Sunny, and in his better moments, he lets Ren drag him down to our room for Mario Kart.
Jamie himself is alternately sullen and awkwardly charming, depending on who he’s with and what he wants from them. He flirts with all the girls, especially Gia. He’s half in love with her already when she’s nice to him, and follows her with hot eyes reminiscent of Gale’s when she loses patience and shows her claws.
Gale takes the brunt of the night shifts, mostly sitting on the steps outside the dorm, watching Jamie fidget and chain smoke until he crashes in the early hours before dawn. With his brother, Jamie is also the most volatile and manipulative, playing on their shared history and Gale’s guilt to try and squeeze out a little more freedom.
Me, he actively despises, as I’m the only one who can see through his bullshit. Three days in, when he’s sweating and the RLS has him bouncing off the couch every thirty seconds to kick the walls, he comes over to where I’m sitting in the easy chair, trying to sketch out a rigging diagram for Costa.
“I’ve seen the way you look at my brother,” he says, standing over me, face intent. “You don’t have a chance, you know. Even if he wasn’t already tapping Gia’s ass, he’s totally straight.”
I tilt my head, looking up at him. He and Gale had already gone down to the café before Gia and I left the room that first morning, and I haven’t slept here since. Nothing kills the mood like a whiny junkie in the next room, pretending to get clean. I’m pretty sure Jamie has no idea what his “totally straight” big brother has been up to lately, and it’s not my place to out Gale to someone who obviously still worships him, underneath it all. So I just wait for what’s coming and keep my mouth shut.
He shifts uneasily, scratching at one arm and throwing a glance over his shoulder. The muffled sounds of Gale getting ready to shower filter through the closed bathroom door.
“Everyone says I look like him.” He moves closer, and I start to shake my head, but he leans down, caging me in with his hands on the armrests of the chair. “I don’t fuck guys, but I’ll let you suck my dick for a hundred bucks. For an extra twenty, I’ll even shave my head first.”
Fuck this shit. I’m supposed to be the patient, compassionate one, but this strung-out kid comparing himself to one of the most violently alive people I’ve ever met burns me up. I shove him away and stand up, looming over him when he tumbles to his ass on the carpet.
“I’ve had more than enough sad junkie dick for one lifetime,” I tell him, cold rage making my fingers twitch. I want to smack him back to reality. It’s a feeling I definitely haven’t fucking missed, and the pathetic truth is that this actuallyishis reality. Gale stalks out of the bathroom, a vision of naked fury.
“What the fuck is going on in here?”
“This fag asshole tried to suck my dick,” Jamie says, giving me a nasty look to match his words.
“Bullshit. Why would he fucking bother when he can have the real thing anytime he wants?” Gale responds without hesitation, like he didn’t just come out to the person he loves most in the world. I have to fight the sudden urge to drop to my knees and prove him right. Jamie gapes at him and then narrows his eyes at me. “Get the fuck up,” Gale continues. “Go take a shower. You need it more than I do.”
Jamie scrambles to his feet, giving me one last glare before slamming the bathroom door behind him.
“That was dramatic,” I say. And then, “Sorry.”
“Fuck that.” Gale snatches a blanket off the couch and wraps it around his waist before dropping onto the cushions. “What really happened?”
I hesitate—not because I’m ashamed or because he doesn’t deserve to know but because, with the way he’s looking at me right now, I’m afraid he might break down the bathroom door and beat the crap out of his little brother if he hears the truth. I take a breath and tell him anyway.
“Jesus.” He runs his hand through the soft stubble of his hair and won’t quite meet my eyes. “You think he’s been whoring himself out for drugs?”
I shrug.
“I think he only tried because it was me, and he’s been paying attention.” I hold his gaze. “He offered to shave his head first.”
Gale’s eyes flare, and he sits forward on the couch.
“He thought if he looked more like me you’d say yes?”
“Pretty much.”
“He’s probably jacking off in there right now, thinking about it. Little asshole.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not his type.”
