Broken Pieces
Page 122

Josiah led the way, taking Tristan’s mouth. Mateo watched their lips move together, their tongues give and take, and damned if he didn’t feel like he was a part of it, too. If it wasn’t them acting on not only how they felt, but how he felt. And when it was his turn, when his tongue wrestled with Tristan’s, he knew Jay was seeing the same thing.
“I’m tired. So damn tired of doing it alone. Tired of not living.” Tristan looked them both in the eyes as he spoke. “I want to give myself to you both, every part of me, but I don’t know how.” And then he looked down. “Show me how.”
Mateo’s whole body buzzed with electricity, swelled with hunger and so much fucking honor.
“You don’t have to. It’s okay—”
“Go upstairs.” Mateo cut Josiah off. “Go into the bathroom and start a shower. Don’t get undressed yet.  We’ll be right there to take care of you.”
Tristan took a couple of deep breaths before stepping back and toward the stairs.
As soon as he was gone, Mateo cupped Josiah’s cheek. “I know you want this, Jay.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s right. I don’t want to push this on him.”
“You wanna take care of him, this is the way. He’ll tell us if he can’t do it. We owe it to him. He deserves for us to give him what he needs.”
Josiah nodded, and they both went for the stairs. Teo’s body thrummed—lust, need, want, fear and love mixing together, carbonation in a shaken-up can that could burst at any second.
Josiah closed their bedroom door before they both stepped into the oversized bathroom, steam already fogging the mirrors, drifting over the glass doors of the standalone shower.
Mateo stopped in front of Tristan, trying to tell him with his eyes that he got it. He knew what Tristan had been through, and what this meant to him—and what it meant to Teo and Josiah, too.
“If you don’t want something, you tell us, otherwise we have control.” He stepped closer, their bodies aligned. “Tell him, Jay. Tell him what we want.”
And then Josiah was there, so damn close, too. “We just want to take care of you.”
Not take advantage of you... Take care of you.
Teo moved backward, signaled for Tristan to step away from the counter. “Keep your hands to yourself.” He winked, trying to lighten the mood. Trying to do whatever he could to heal Tristan, to heal them all.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tristan
Tristan’s body vibrated from the inside out. He wondered if they could feel him, but then realized it didn’t matter. They knew the parts of him no one else did, yet they were still here.
He closed his eyes, recognizing the feel of Josiah’s cold hands as they pushed under his shirt, taking it up higher and higher, until Tristan had no choice but to raise his arms and let Josiah take it off.
He dropped his head back, trying to concentrate of the feel of Josiah’s lips on his chest, his tongue tracing one nipple and then the other.
On the feel of Mateo’s fingers unbuttoning and unzipping his pants.
Tristan tried to toe out of his shoes, but then Mateo’s hand was there. “No. We’re doing this for you. You’re letting us lead the way, remember?”
Tristan fisted his hands, fighting not to pull away, not to count the rapid beats of his heart.
One shoe was gone, then the other, before Mateo pulled his pants and boxer briefs down. His cock flexed against his stomach, painfully hard and needy.
“Get in the shower and wait for us,” Mateo commanded.
Tristan bit back the urge to say no. He fucked who he wanted, he controlled things in the bedroom...But then, he wanted to be here with them. Wanted to give whatever he could to both of these men.
So he went. Walked to the glass doors, opened them and stepped inside. Watched as they undressed before joining him—Josiah behind him and Mateo in front of him.
Water slid down his body, slid down theirs, too, as Mateo soaped his hands before handing the bar to Josiah. And then they washed him, and fuck if it didn’t feel like they were cleansing his past. Washing it away with the water, Mateo’s soapy hands ran up and down his chest, his arms, and down to his dick, his sac, before he went to his knees, washing Tristan’s legs, too.
And then it was Josiah’s turn, his shoulders, his back. Tristan tensed when Josiah touched his ass.
“It’s just me. Only us, Tristan,” Josiah said.
“I know. Keep going.”
And he did. His finger drifting down Tristan’s crack before he went to his knees to clean the backs of his legs as Mateo had done with the front.