Maddox was no pushover. At six foot one, he took care of his body and had a physical job.
But he knew Diesel had let him win that first wrestling match because Diesel was a beast. Six-three with heavy muscle from the solid slope of his trapezius at the back of his neck to the swell of his calf.
And those sweats were hanging low on his hips, the muscles of his abs and obliques so significantly defined that V that led to his groin could almost be described as a tunnel.
And behind those sweats, surrounding his gorgeous dick, he was shaved.
When they did their BDSM gig, Maddox allowed Diesel to work him because Maddox got off on it, got off on the service, got off on the unexpected, got off on the pain, and Diesel was fucking inspired with that shit.
He’d let his boy work him, but part of that play meant whatever he did earned retribution and Mad got his back.
But in that area of their lives, even if he took it, Mad owned D.
They both owned Molly.
But Maddox owned D.
And recently he’d discovered that he liked that cock shaved.
So once a week, D’s ass was tied to the bed and Maddox shaved around his cock before he sucked it, ate him out and then fucked him tough.
That time was a couple of days away.
And now that it had begun, they all looked forward to the ritual.
Maddox turned to watch Diesel reel to the coffeepot, lift a hand, get a mug from the cupboard and pour his coffee black.
Years they’d been together and Maddox still had no clue how the guy could suck it back like that. Molly and Maddox went through practically a bottle of creamer a week to drink D’s joe.
But no creamer for D.
It was black.
He lurched to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down heavily, one foot on the floor, knee bent, but leg splayed to the side like he couldn’t hold it up, one leg out, heel to the floor, like he couldn’t be bothered to cock it.
Too bad Molly wasn’t there. Her man spread like that, she’d feel obliged to blow him alert, something she did often.
Diesel lifted the coffee to his lips, threw some back and Maddox felt his mouth twitch because D didn’t even wince at the heat from that huge swallow.
“It’s a wonder you can feel anything in your mouth. Got to have burned all sensation away with years of sucking back your morning coffee like that,” Maddox noted.
D’s eyes were fixed to the floor, not avoiding Maddox’s, just because that was how he was in the morning, when he mumbled, “Trust me, I can feel shit with my mouth.”
That made Maddox smile.
“You good?” Maddox asked.
Diesel slightly lifted his mug and muttered, “I will be.”
Then he took another sip.
“We should call Mol,” Maddox told him. “Check in. See how things are going down there.”
Diesel lifted a big hand and rubbed the top of his hair making the thick mess an even bigger mess before his hand dropped to his thigh like he couldn’t hold it up anymore.
“Yeah,” he agreed, and sucked back more joe.
“We can wait until you’re at least a quarter human,” Maddox told him.
“Obliged,” D murmured.
Maddox grinned again.
He’d gone back to the pot, glugged more creamer into his mug, refilled his cup and resumed his position at the sink, leaning his ass against it to enjoy the always entertaining show of Diesel becoming human when the call to Molly became one they would take, not give.
His phone on the counter rang and it was their girl.
“Mol,” he muttered, snagging his phone, taking the call, hitting speaker and walking to the kitchen table, greeting, “Hey, baby.”
“Hey, Mady,” she replied as Maddox set the phone to the table and sat down at corners to D.
“You got me and D, you’re on speakerphone.”
“D’s up?” she asked.
“Yup,” Maddox answered.
“Is he alive?” she asked.
Maddox chuckled and looked to D who was staring at the phone like he didn’t know what it was, but at least the sides of his lips were turned up.
The caffeine was kicking in.
“He’s at least breathing,” Maddox told her. “How are things down there?”
“Well . . .”
She trailed off.
Maddox stopped looking at the phone and started glaring at it as he felt his neck muscles get tight.
Molly had a great family. They’d been a little confused at the way of things in the beginning but they managed to pry open their minds, this happening as they witnessed Maddox and Diesel and how they treated Molly.
After that got through, it was all good. They traded off Thanksgivings at her folks or Mad’s (and Mad’s folks, including his little sister, were live-and-let-live people—they’d all loved D from the beginning and when Molly had come around, that same shit happened immediately). They got both guys birthday presents. Sent hilarious Christmas gifts, like matching hideous sweaters for the three of them.
Holly was included in that.
She was a good gal.
But she was also totally high maintenance and could be a pain in the ass.
Especially Molly’s ass.
“What’s up?” D barked and Maddox’s eyes shot to him.
Caffeine eventually woke him.
But anyone fucking with Molly would make him instantly alert.
Fucking fuck, but he loved that guy.
“Okay, well, um . . . she’s already picked out my bridesmaid dress,” Molly told them. “She had it picked out before I got here. I just have to go this morning and try it on to see how she feels about it.”
“Good,” Diesel bit out. “So you’re comin’ home later today?”
“Actually . . . no,” she said, but didn’t say anything more.
“Molly, spit it out,” Maddox ordered.
“Okay, well, Dylan is . . . not a big fan of Holly’s bridezilla. He’s been getting up in her face to calm down. I think this weekend was more sister time to play off me to make her feel better that her going off on one with this wedding was an okay thing to do. The problem was, as Mom was following me down here yesterday, they had it out and Dylan put his foot down. He said if she didn’t get her head out of her ass and stop spending so much money on what amounts to a day in their lives, they were going to have problems.”
Dylan was Holly’s fiancée. Good man. Loved Holly. Doted on Molly like she was his little sister. Treated D and Maddox like bros.
No clue how it came about, because by the look of him—all poster boy for the boy next door—you’d think he’d be the opposite. But stereotypes went both ways. Dylan didn’t blink when he’d learned Holly’s sister lived with and slept with two men, that was how it was, not a phase—a relationship that had traction and would extend through the future.
For Dylan, it just was what it was.
Fuck, Dylan had asked D and him to be ushers at the wedding.
Maybe it was because he was a history professor at U of A.
Gotta love those liberal college types.
“I’m not thinkin’ that was the way to go,” Maddox muttered.
“Well, no, but you see, what I didn’t know and you don’t know until right now is that Mom and Dad gave her a budget and she’s exceeded it by about seven thousand dollars.”
“Jesus Christ,” Diesel clipped.
“I know,” she said softly. “So her and Dylan have to cover that and she’s not even done planning. So then she um . . . she um . . .”