Broken

A Total-E-Bound Publication

www.total-e-bound.com

Broken ISBN # 978-1-907280-08-5 ©Copyright Sage Whistler 2009 Cover Art by Natalie Winters ©Copyright September 2009 Edited by Michele Paulin Total-E-Bound Publishing This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing. Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution. The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork. Published in 2009 by Total-E-Bound Publishing 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.

Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-taboo.

BROKEN Sage Whistler

Dedication This story is dedicated to my friends Sarah, Shalonda, Natasha, Daniel, Quilar, Danielle and Q, even if you guys read this story in the dark, with a flashlight, with one eye open, in a closet.

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmark mentioned in this work of fiction: Colbert Report: MTV Networks ("MTVN"), a division of Viacom International Inc.

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Chapter One

“Those things will kill you,” Marilyn Struthers said, plopping down on the bench beside Gabriel Stalling. Jumping guiltily, Gabriel hastily tucked his pack of cigarettes back into his coat pocket. As bad as he wanted a smoke to calm his nerves, he knew there was no chance of that at the airport. His blue gaze flickered from Marilyn who slouched on the bench reading the latest issue of Daily Starz to the arrival gate where he waited for Tristan to walk through. Tristan, his twin brother, a man he hadn’t seen in seven years, was finally coming to see him. His stomach twisted in anxious knots. He wondered how Tristan would react to him. Would their meeting be awkward and strained? Would the conservative brother he remembered turn up his nose at Gabriel’s long hair, multiple piercings and tats? “Oh, look at this!” Marilyn exclaimed. An amused grin tilted her bare lips. Like Gabriel, Marilyn had gone to special lengths to blend in with the regular crowd. Her usual makeup and gothic style were tamed. With her face devoid of makeup and her fiery curls corralled under a blue baseball cap, Marilyn’s image was unlike her stage persona. She was just another citizen at the busy terminal in L.A. She turned and showed Gabriel the pages of her magazine. “Kane already has a big head.” She laughed. Daily Starz featured a picture of their guitarist, Kane Golden, a six foot three, ebony statue of a man with pale blond dreadlocks. Kane was hard to miss with his striking appearance, and it seemed as if the paparazzi had easily found him. The blown-up photo was of Kane leaving a club with two women on his arm—one of which was up and coming actress/model Sylvia Valentine. The caption read like the Twix commercial: Two for me. None for you. Gabriel couldn’t help but chuckle at the playboy. Sylvia’s career would probably skyrocket because of her link to Kane. Over the past two years, Kane had gained the reputation of a star maker. The media just couldn’t get enough of him, and their band’s guitarist was at home in front of the camera. Unlike most members of Thrice Broken, Kane

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didn’t go out of his way to avoid the paparazzi, and all the band members were happy to let the playboy take centre stage. Gabriel was leaning over to share a word with Marilyn and get a better look at the writing below the photo when his cell phone vibrated. He unhooked it from his belt and flipped it open. “Hello?” “Are you sure you don’t want me over there, Gabe? The airport’s getting pretty busy.” “No, we’re fine, Brogan.” His eyes scanned the mass of moving people and restaurants dotting the airport lobby. “Where are you?” “Coffee shop, three o’clock.” Gabriel instantly turned his attention to Starbucks and found his bodyguard, Brogan Hewitt, perched at one of the tiny tables, stirring a drink in a brown coffee cup. The big man looked like a giant at a kiddie table. Gabriel laughed. “Take a walk, big guy. Stretch your legs. Mary and I will be—” “It is you, isn’t’ it?” Damn. Two young men with deeply tanned complexions and the look of surfer boys about them stopped before the bench and peered at Gabriel. Gabriel tugged the bill of his baseball cap down over his eyes, but it was too late. He’d already been outted. The boys grinned, and hurried over. One even produced a marker from his back pocket. “Oh, man, Gabriel Stalling!” He spoke loud enough to make Gabriel wince. Other pedestrians started to shoot curious looks in their direction. “We’d be honoured to get your autograph.” “I’ll be there in a minute, boss,” Brogan grunted, obviously spotting the two young men. The line went dead in Gabriel’s ear, and he snapped his phone closed. Beside him, Marilyn groaned and slapped her magazine down on the bench. “Oh, shit. It’s Marilyn!” the surfer boy on the right exclaimed. Marilyn pasted on a smile, prepared to play the part of gracious rock star. “Could you sign our T-shirts, Mr. Stalling? Ms. Marilyn?” Surfer boy number two asked. Gabriel nodded, eager to sign and exchange pleasantries so that the curious stares would go away. The last thing he needed was a mob. He appreciated his fans, and he loved

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making music, but the mobs and stalkers he could do without. Sometimes he just wanted to be normal. That’s why he had waived Brogan’s suggestion that they come to the airport with a full escort of bodyguards. He’d insisted that they could blend in with the crowd. The turn of events ensured that Gabriel would never hear the end of it from Brogan. Their bodyguard managed to appear at Gabriel’s side only seconds before a small crowd began to gather, whispering excitedly about the two stars. Sighing at the buzz going through the crowd, Gabriel didn’t protest as Brogan took out his phone and demanded airport security. Gabriel finished signing the T-shirts of the two surfer boys before turning his attention to more eager fans. The two rock stars continued to sign until airport security showed up to put a barrier between them and the crowd. Camera flashes went off as Brogan escorted them away from their bench. A few exchanged words with security got them past the restricted glass doors and into the quiet interior just beyond the arrival ramp. It was there that they waited until Tristan’s flight was called. Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, Gabriel straightened from the wall he’d been leaning against and eagerly searched the flood of people for his brother. His heart gave a stuttering beat as he spotted Tristan. Clad in a black suit and tie, his brother looked exactly like what he was: a classier version of Gabriel. His blond locks were cut short in comparison to Gabriel’s shoulder-length hair. He was ringless, clean shaven and impeccably dressed. They’d filled out about the same. Both men were lanky and tall, with broad shoulders and a tiny cleft in the chin. Gabriel thought his brother might have him by a few pounds, but none of it was excess fat. Tristan spotted him, and a slow grin spread across his face. He nodded, changing direction as he made progress to Gabriel’s side. “Damn, I didn’t think you could get more gorgeous, Gorgeous,” Marilyn said, speaking to him but staring at Tristan. Gabriel laughed, but inside, his heart was pounding a mile a minute. My brother. My torment. In L.A. With me.

****

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Tristan had expected the guilt. It had been plaguing him for years. He’d been a jerk, and he was ashamed. He’d been a coward, and he was ashamed of that, too. It had taken Tristan a few years to realise how deeply he had wronged Gabriel. After that realisation, he’d feared experiencing the rejection that Gabriel himself had faced by Tristan seven years ago. He should have protected his brother, stood by his side when Gabriel had come out of the closet to their family—not succumbed to the same shock and intolerance as his mother and father. At seventeen years of age, Gabriel had been forced out of his home. His ultimatum had been to either pretend he wasn’t gay and find a nice girl to settle down with or to make his own way in the world. Tristan’s brother had always been more adventurous and courageous than he had. He should have known Gabriel would choose to leave rather than deny who he was. Tristan had been so surprised by the revelation that he hadn’t known what to do but fall in line with his father. He hadn’t put up much of a fight when their dad laid into his brother about how wrong his lifestyle was. Gabriel had already been skating on thin ice for being the ‘punk-rocker’ son. It hadn’t taken much for Dad to snap and throw Gabriel out. The brothers had kept in contact through letters, emails and rare phone calls on holidays, but neither seemed willing to cross the bridge to meeting up until now. For Tristan’s part, he’d admittedly gotten caught up in trying to please his father. In a way, he’d been forced to make up for what his brother had lacked. Nothing Tristan did was ever good enough, not the women he dated or the money he brought in. Their father had turned into a bitter man, convinced that his only remaining son would somehow disappoint him. “You’re just alike,” Joe Stalling would say. “Cut from the same cloth, divided from the same egg. It’s in your nature, and one day you’ll be just like that wastrel you call a brother.” Secretly, Tristan had been afraid Dad was right. He was just like his brother—worse perhaps. How else could he explain the perverse dreams he had? Ones where he laid naked, limbs intertwined not with a female but with Gabriel. After the dreams started, Tristan had thrown himself into work, burying his emotions under paperwork and telling himself it was just a side effect of missing his other half. Of course he imagined them lying together with their limbs entwined. They’d often done so as boys, connected in life as they’d been since before birth. Tristan had stayed away, fearing the very sight of his brother. The closeness might be a temptation too great for him to deny. He’d disgrace himself beyond repair. His thoughts and

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dreams were forbidden, taboo. But the forces that had driven him to L.A. were beyond his control. He’d done everything by the book, gone to an Ivy League University and majored in business and accounting. He’d graduated with a GPA of 4.0 and opened his own restaurant. Still, all his successes had come crashing down with a bad investment and a backstabbing partner. A turn of fate had ruined everything Tristan had spent seven years building. Gone were his career, his home, his cars and his girlfriend. He could barely afford to pay the rent on his condo. He’d filed bankruptcy, and no one wanted to touch him with a five-foot pole after his tie-in with an infamous con-artist. Everything Tristan possessed was gone, or so he’d thought. It had surprised him when he’d received the invite from his brother to come to L.A. and spend some time to clear his head and get back on his feet. Just as Tristan had been following Gabriel’s success, his brother had been following Tristan’s. Gabriel knew all about his business going bust. He’d followed Tristan through his court dates when he had to clear his name of all wrongdoing in the illegal trafficking of exotic seafood to his restaurant. Tristan had hedged about coming to L.A. until he’d realised he needed a new start. He missed Gabriel terribly. There wasn’t a day that went by where the huge hole in his chest didn’t ache for his brother, his other half. Spotting Gabriel in the airport was the biggest high he’d ever experienced. And instantly, he felt drawn to his brother’s side. But even as he moved towards the one person in the world he loved more than anyone else, he couldn’t help but feel apprehension. The moment he’d been avoiding for years was now at hand. The only question was if he was strong enough to resist temptation a second time.

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Chapter Two

“Here we are,” Gabriel said, opening the door to his high-rise apartment with a flourish. Marilyn rolled her eyes, squeezing past him and walking down the hall, calling out to her two boys. “Zeddie. Micah. I’m back.” Gabriel chuckled as he heard the boys grumbling about not being babies. The boys were in their mid-teens. Marilyn had been young when she’d had her children, but she’d adopted the matronly attitude nonetheless. She played surrogate mother to the entire band though, so Gabriel didn’t complain too loudly. Besides, she was a great cook and a helluva drummer. Tristan came in and looked around. Gabriel was satisfied to note the appreciation on his brother’s handsome face. “Come on, I’ll show you where you can put up your stuff. Tristan had one large, rolling suitcase and a medium duffle. Gabriel snagged the duffle, slung it over one shoulder and led the way farther into his house. They entered a spacious living room with two levels that tapered off to a kitchen on the upper level. The top level was carpeted cerulean blue at the far right and tiled smoky-blue-grey in the kitchen nook to the left. The carpeted portion rounded three steps that lead to the sunken sitting area. The tan and blue couches were currently occupied by Zeddie and Micah, Marilyn’s sixteen and fourteen year old sons and Ty Gunner—the biggest kid of all at twenty-seven—Thrice Broken’s keyboardist. They were playing a football game on a game console attached to the fifty-four inch flat screen hanging from the ceiling. The game was paused as Gabriel and Tristan walked through the living room, and the three guys eagerly turned to have their first look at Gabriel’s brother. “Zeddie, Micah.” He pointed to the handsome young boys with skin the colour of light coffee and twin mops of black curls. “Marilyn’s boys.” Then he pointed to a slender, dark haired man with light blue eyes and a friendly smile. “That’s Ty Gunner, our keyboardist, for now.” Ty flipped him off, and Marilyn smacked Ty in the shoulder. “What was that for?” Ty complained, rubbing dramatically at his shoulder.

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Marilyn mock-glared at him. “Set a good example, Ty.” She cast her gaze around the living room and shook her head. “Look at this place. You guys left empty cans—” “Nice meeting you,” Marilyn’s boys piped up. “You too,” Tristan said. He nodded at the television. “Maybe I’ll take you guys on later,” he suggested. Zeddie quirked an eyebrow. “You any good?” Tristan chuckled. “You’ll just have to see.” “Hey, where is Brogan?” Micah asked, looking eagerly past the twins to the hall beyond. Zeddie rolled his eyes and turned around. Taking up his controller, he started the game back up. Gabriel just smiled. He thought it was cute that Micah had a crush on their bodyguard. “He’s out getting the car washed.” After exhausting himself lecturing Gabriel about the importance of security, Brogan had dropped them at the house and gone off on a huff to cool down. Dealing with the masses didn’t usually put him in a bad mood, but it had been one of those weeks. Micah looked a bit disappointed as he slouched down on the couch. “He’ll be back soon.” Gabriel nodded, waving his brother after him. They got Tristan settled in his room, and Gabriel proceeded to give him the two-dollar tour. The place was pretty big, but there weren’t many rooms. There was Gabriel’s room and a guest room, two bathrooms, living room, kitchen and a laundry room. The kitchen and living room were large enough to set up a dining table, but Gabriel made do with just a regular four-seat table. It was a bachelor’s pad after all. Marilyn had escorted her brood home, and Ty had disappeared long before Tristan caught a shower and put his things away. When he emerged from his room again, he was barefoot, wearing jeans and a forest-green T-shirt. Gabriel had tossed a bag of shrimp in the sink to thaw out, and he was cutting veggies for a salad. “You like shrimp pasta, Tris?” Tristan helped himself to some water from the spout on the fridge door and leaned back against the counter with his arms crossed. “Yeah. It’s been a long time since anyone called me that.”

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Because that is my name for you. Mine alone, Gabriel thought but bit his lip instead of saying it. “Yeah.” He nodded. Sipping his water, Tristan nodded in his direction. “I didn’t know you were such an accomplished chef.” He chuckled. “I’m not a chef, but I can whip together a few dishes. I just get tired of eating out, ya know. You cook?” It wasn’t so hard talking to Tristan. It was easy like always. “Not a lick.” Tristan chuckled. Ah, jeez, why did he have to say lick? Gabriel cleared his throat. “You owned a restaurant and never learned to cook?” Tristan shrugged, his cheeks colouring a bit. “That was Stefano’s gig. I ran the money end.” Ah, Stefano. Gabriel nodded, the infamous partner who had brought Tristan’s restaurant to its knees. He certainly wasn’t going to bring that topic up. Instead he said, “I could teach you if you’d like. Want to help me?” “Sure.” His brother set down his glass on the counter and came over. “What should I do?” “You can open that bag of shrimp for starters. Rinse them off and peel off the shell. I’m going to start boiling the water for the pasta.” “Okay.” Tristan snagged a pair of kitchen scissors and went to work on the bag. “I don’t know if I’ve said this properly, but thank you for everything, Gabe. The ticket, a place to crash, I…I really appreciate everything.” “You’re my brother, Tris. Anything you need or want, all you have to do is ask.” His perverse mind tried to twist his words, wanting to fabricate all manner of forbidden things Tris might ask. He imagined Tris turning around any moment, unzipping his jeans and pushing them down to his ankles, unleashing a gorgeous cock already leaking with his excitement. “Anything I want,” he’d say, while stroking himself from root to tip. Hell yes. Then Gabriel would kneel and— “Thanks, bro.” Tristan’s voice sounded hoarse with emotion, pulling Gabriel from his wayward thoughts. Tristan changed the subject before they could go any deeper. “I like it

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here. You have a beautiful place. I like Marilyn and her boys already, and Ty seems pretty nice, too.” “Yeah, we’re like the dysfunctional Brady Bunch. Wait until you meet Kane, Sampson, Britney and Josie.” Gabriel tossed carrots and cucumbers into a fresh bowl of lettuce. Josie, their makeup artist was going to have a fit when she met Tristan. She’d had a major crush on Gabriel when they’d first met, but he’d deflated her hopes when he’d told her he was gay. He wondered how he’d feel about Josie putting the moves on his brother. At the thought, his stomach immediately tightened into anxious knots. Well, there was his answer. “Who are they?” Tristan asked. Gabriel heard him tossing shrimp into a bowl. “Josie is our makeup artist. Hey, don’t laugh!” But he laughed himself. Tristan’s joy was infectious. “Anyway, Britney does hair, and Kane is a member of Thrice Broken. Oh, Sampson is our manager. Kane and Sam are characters so I’m sure you’ll have a blast when you meet them. “Sounds cool. Um…how long do you stay here out of the year?” “Why? You trying to get rid of me already?” he joked, knowing Tristan was just trying to make conversation. He had his back to Tristan, but he heard him running water over the shrimp and shelling them in the sink. “No. No, just wondering.” “Depends on our tour schedule. It just so happens we don’t tour again until this summer, but we have to make a few trips across the U.S. to attend music related events. Our next one is, like, one week away.” Speaking of which. “You think you’d be interested in hitting the road with me, little bro?” “I don’t know.” The water went off, and a few seconds later, Tristan appeared at his side with a bowl full of peeled shrimp. Gabriel gave Tristan the bowl of salad to cover and put in the fridge while he seasoned the shrimp and dumped pasta into the now boiling pot of water. He started cutting garlic while Tristan rummaged through his cabinet for a skillet. “I’d really like it if you’d come. You know, get out and see some sights. It will be fun. We always have a blast, and it’ll be another notch in the to-do list. Marilyn’s putting together a photo album of all our events this year, and I’d really like you to be in it.” Tristan shrugged, setting the skillet on a burner on the stove. “Maybe. I’ll have to see how everything goes, yeah? Who knows, I might be working.”

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Disappointed but at least hopeful because Tristan hadn’t outright refused, Gabriel agreed that they would wait and see. They finished up the cooking and moved to the living room with its cushy couch and coffee table. Gabriel flipped to the comedy channel and they ate while laughing at the Colbert Report. The rest of the evening passed in companionable silence, dotted here and there with a sprinkling of conversation, but even so, Gabriel felt the tension between him and his brother. There was something between them, and it was building. He felt it like thunder brewing in the clouds. It was coming. He just worried what things would look like after it passed.

**** Gabriel woke up at six, which was early for him. He just couldn’t sleep. He’d been restless all night knowing that Tristan was only a few feet away. He finally dragged his tired body out of bed and chain smoked on the balcony looking down at the busy streets below until he determined that it was the right time to make breakfast. He liked to cook. It settled the restless feeling inside him and helped him focus. He was whipping up bacon, eggs and toast when Tristan shuffled into the kitchen, looking adorable with his mussed hair and sleep-heavy eyes. Those eyes widened as they spotted Gabriel standing at the stove. “Wow,” Tristan said, eyes intent on Gabriel’s bare upper body. Gabriel didn’t have to look to know what Tristan referred to. He knew the tattoo that covered his shoulder and most of his right arm by heart. He’d had the tattoo of the two kneeling men posed like Atlas done shortly after he was kicked out of the house by their father. Instead of the world on their shoulders, the men shared the weight of a burning sun between them. The sun was on fire, flames shooting around the men and spilling onto his upper shoulder. He’d done it all in black so the effect was even more stunning. If a person looked close enough, they could see that the two men looked exactly the same. “Thanks.” Gabriel concentrated on spooning eggs onto two plates. “I was just going to wake you up for breakfast.” When his brother spoke again, he was close enough that Gabriel felt his warm breath ghost over the side of his face. Tristan’s breath smelled of mint toothpaste. He hadn’t heard

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him get up and use the bathroom though, but that wasn’t unusual. Gabriel often got lost in thought and blanked out everything around him. It was why he was such a good musician. He could concentrate in almost any condition. Tristan’s warm breath made him shiver, but not as much as the fingers that carefully traced one burning flame and the twin on the left. “Did this hurt?” “Nah.” He casually shifted from under Tristan’s hand, hoping his brother wouldn’t notice how much the spatula was shaking. “It stings only a little a first, but then you kind of go numb to it. The shading feels like nothing at all.” Tristan dropped his hand, and Gabriel darted a look to his brother to see him frowning thoughtfully. “What?” Shrugging, Tristan backed away a step. “Nothing, just thinking about how much you have changed. I wasn’t there to see any of it. I-I feel like I should know, Gabe. I mean we talked on the phone every once in a blue but it was mostly just ‘hey how are you doing? Fine. And you?’” Gabriel tried to smile, but his lips were quivering. He shut off the stove and turned to face Tristan. “What do you want to know? You want to see everything that has changed? Well, here. Look.” Tucking a few strands of his honey-blond hair behind his ear, he showed off the ten tiny hoops decorating the shell of his ear. “I’ve got these, the tat, and this…” Gabriel stuck out his tongue and showed off his ring.” Tristan gasped. “Shit, I didn’t notice that yesterday.” Gabriel grinned then. “I’ve got one more piercing,” he cleared his throat, “in a more private area, and that’s the extent of my changes. See. Now, you know. How about you? You got any tats or piercings?” Tristan flushed a lovely shade of red. He shook his head. “No, you know me. I hate needles.” “True. Remember when we were seven, and you bit the nurse because—” “Don’t start!” Tristan growled. Gabriel threw back his head and laughed. “All right. Let’s eat, though, before breakfast gets cold. There’s bread in the toaster still warming.” He strode over to the refrigerator.

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“Strawberry jelly still your favourite?” It made him feel a bit sad, the things he didn’t know about Tristan, but he was determined to find out now that they were reunited at last. “Yeah,” Tristan said, bringing both their plates to the table. He collected some eating utensils as Gabriel set out grape jelly for himself and strawberry for Tristan. After filling two cups with some orange juice, they sat down and dug in with hearty appetites. “You’ve got to teach me how to make eggs this good,” Tristan said. “Mine always come out watery or burnt.” Gabriel winked. “It’s all in the timing.” He watched Tristan eating for a while before his curiosity got the better of him. “So…what have you been up to for seven years, little bro? I mean besides what you’ve told me in the emails. I want all the juicy bits,” he joked. Tristan smiled, nibbling his toast. Gabriel barely suppressed a groan as his dick leapt enthusiastically. It was completely unfair that Tristan was sexy even while he was eating. “Nothing much to tell,” Tristan said. “I worked, I went to school and I worked some more. I just kind of buried myself in the notion that, one day, I’d be this huge business mogul. I thought I was so smart, but I didn’t see the wreck coming until it was too late. Then everything fell apart, and now, I’m here.” Gabriel sort of wished he hadn’t asked because of the dark cloud that now hung over their heads, but he knew deep down that it needed to be said. They couldn’t keep tip-toeing around the important issues. Tristan had to let it all out if he was going to start healing. So Gabriel threw the big punches. “What was Dad doing the entire time?” Tristan looked startled by his question. His shoulders tensed, and he stabbed at a piece of egg, pushing it around his plate. “What he always does: watch everything like a hawk. I thought I could please him—” “You couldn’t. Not after me, Tristan. Every time he saw you, he was reminded of me, his first born.” His gay son. “I know that now. I’ve been such a fool. At first, I was so pissed off at him for throwing you out. Then I was mad at you for telling him the truth.” Tristan wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I feel so ashamed for blaming any of it on you. You had the courage to stand up and be who you are, and all I’ve ever tried to do is fit into the mould Dad wanted.” Finally, as if it pained him to do it, Tristan dragged his gaze up to Gabriel. His eyes glittered with unshed tears.

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“I’m sorry, Gabriel. God, I am sorry. You’ll never know how bad I feel about not sticking up for you, not…” Tristan trailed off when Gabriel placed his hand over the back of Tristan’s. The twins stared down at their joined hands for a few silent moments before Gabriel reluctantly dragged his hand away. “It’s okay, Tris. You don’t deserve the entire blame. We’ve both made mistakes. I should have tried harder to see you. I’ve had the means to send you a ticket for some time now. Hell, I could have come home myself. We’re adults. What Dad and Mom think has nothing to do with the relationship we have. But that’s all water under the bridge. We’re together now, and we’re not going to be separated again. I won’t let that happen, and I don’t think you will either.” “No,” Tristan agreed, wiping at his eyes before the tears could fall. Gabriel blinked hard, feeling the suspicious sting in his own eyes. “No more separating.” Tristan reached over and, to Gabriel’s surprise, took his hand. Tristan laced their fingers together and squeezed gently. Gabriel squeezed back. Everything was going to be okay.

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Chapter Three

After the emotional scene at Gabriel’s apartment, the brothers had agreed to get out and do something fun. Tristan spent the day playing tagalong, visiting some of the places where his brother made the rounds. Their last stop was club Orion, owned by Gabriel himself and Ty Gunner. Tristan was thrilled at the look of the place and didn’t skimp on the appreciative comments. As he was shown around the two floor establishment, his chest swelled with pride for what his brother had accomplished. Orion was modern and sleek, fun and yet sensual at the same time. The floors were shiny and black like polished onyx. Silver-plated banisters and rails rounded an oval interior. Slim poles and raised platforms made an intriguing spot for the paid dancers to perform. The bar downstairs reminded Tristan of the oxygen bar he’d seen at the airport. It was colourful, sleek and modern, the countertop a shiny silver to match the rest of the club. The shelves were made of glass and stacked to the ceiling with any kind of drink a customer could imagine. There was also beer available from the tap. Tristan met the bartender, Keith, who was more than gracious about showing off his pride and joy. Declining a taste test of one of Keith’s fine liquors, Tristan followed his brother to the second floor. Gabriel showed him the V.I.P lounge and the Hot Pink room for the ladies. Orion had incorporated something for everyone. “And finally the Rec area,” Gabriel said, pushing open the final door. Four heads turned in their direction as the brothers walked in. “Tris, meet the rest of the band.” He introduced Sampson as their manager. Sampson was a slender man with midnight hair that fell to his shoulders. He wasn’t conventionally handsome but there was something about his square jaw and piercing grey eyes that was striking. Sampson’s smile was friendly as he stood up to shake Tristan’s hand. Tristan had already met Marilyn and Ty. His attention was drawn to the biggest presence in the room. Kane Golden was stunning to say the least. If you took away his size, his beautiful ebony skin and head of light-blond dreadlocks, he still would have demanded attention.

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Tristan couldn’t help but feel a bit intimidated as the handsome man stood up and held out a big hand for him to shake. His dark gaze drifted over Tristan from head to toe. “So I was right. Your twin does look better than you, Gabe.” Gabriel gave Kane the finger, and Kane laughed, breaking the ice. Gabriel grabbed a stool and pushed it in Tristan’s direction. “Well, now that all the intros are done, what the hell are you guys up to?” Marilyn pushed blood-red curls off her forehead and tapped her drumsticks together in a way that made Tristan think it must be a habit of hers. “Ty wants to perform tonight. We were waiting for you to show up to make the decision,” she said. Ty shrugged. “It’s been a while since we performed in Orion. Thought we could show your brother how we do it.” He cast Tristan a cheeky grin and a wink. Tristan flushed at the pretty boy’s teasing. Gabriel punched Ty in the arm. “Don’t even think it, Sparky.” Ty barked. Everyone laughed, including Tristan. “Sounds good to me,” Gabriel finally said. “We all agree?” “I’m down,” Kane said. “I’ve got to catch ghost by ten though.” Ty rolled blue eyes heavenward. “Don’t tell me you’re still seeing Kelis. That girl’s got issues.” “Watch your mouth about my girl!” Kane said, leaning forward to glare at Ty across the four feet of space separating them. “Cool it, you two,” Marilyn interjected, pressing the tips of her drumsticks in both men’s chests. “I’m cool,” Kane said, going from hothead to relaxed in mere seconds. Tristan was already enamoured with the easy camaraderie and bantering in the group. He found himself wanting to be a part of it. Best not to think that way. Gabe will probably tire of me in two weeks. He wasn’t nearly as much fun as these guys. Just looking at his plain clothes let people know how boring and predictable he was. “What say we do a little practice before the big shindig,” Gabriel suggested, hopping up and going to get one of the mics on a stand Tristan had failed to notice when they’d entered

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the room. Following the direction his brother took, Tristan saw several guitars, a keyboard, and a drum set lined up across the room. The group dispersed, each heading for the instrument of their choice. Marilyn sat behind her drums and spun her drumstick around in the centre of her palm before winking at Tristan who stared in amazement. Palming the stick, she waited for everyone to get ready before she tapped her drumsticks together three times. Then she laid into the drums, filling the Rec room with a vibrant beat that urged Tristan to tap his foot. Then the guitars joined in as they caught on to the song she’d started the intro for. Kane and Ty joined in almost at the same time, adding the special magic of the guitar and keyboard to the song. Then Gabriel started to sing, and Tristan was lost. He felt a bit mesmerised as his gaze zeroed in on his brother. Gabriel’s silken voice demanded attention, the expression on his face relaxed yet focused at the same time. Gabriel stared back at Tristan, and Tristan felt for just a second like there was no one in the room but the two of them. The words penetrated his consciousness, and he ran them through his mind a second after they were sung, trying to make sense of them as his muddled brain struggled to focus on anything but Gabriel’s beautiful face and focused gaze on him. He felt as if Gabriel sang just for him. This world ain’t what I thought it would be. If I could take time out, I would save it for me. My soul would fly to places, Filling all the empty spaces. And angels would come down, Turning all the hurt around. Immortalise my soul, Take out the bitter cold.

**** Tristan was sitting at the bar shelling peanuts when Gabriel slipped onto the stool next to him.

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“Howdy, pardner,” Gabriel rumbled in his ear, reaching over to snag Tristan’s beer. He took a sip. “Enjoying the night life?” Obviously tipsy, Tristan giggled. “It’s past my bedtime.” “You ready to go home?” “Nope. Red head.” He held his hands out well past his chest. “Big boobs. Be back in ththirty hours.” Gabriel chuckled, pretty sure his brother was too damn drunk to know the difference between thirty minutes and thirty hours. He tugged Tristan’s arm. “Come on. We’ll wait for her in my car.” And while they were at it, he’d get Tristan home and tucked into bed. “’Kay.” Tristan waved sloppily at the bartender. “Bye, Keif.” Keith smiled fondly and waved back. “Take care, Tristan.” He nodded at Gabriel. “Brogan driving?” “Yeah.” He’d had only two and a half beers, but he wasn’t taking any chances, especially if he didn’t have to. Brogan was waiting outside with his jeep to take them both home. Luckily, the crowd in Orion knew to be on their best behaviour. Any confrontation with the members of Thrice Broken was an automatic ejection and revoking of club rights. He went pretty much unmolested in his own place. Wrapping Tristan’s arm around his neck and his arm around his twin’s waist, Gabriel supported his brother’s weight as they moved through the crowd. Tristan wasn’t fall down drunk. In fact, except for a stumble or two, he walked under his own power. It was just easier to get them both to the same destination at the same time. Or so Gabriel told himself as he traded the body-heated club air for the cool, fresh air outside. Brogan didn’t get out to open the door. The fucker. Gabriel smiled to himself, not even bothering to ask. He knew what Brogan would say. “I’m not a fucking chauffeur, boss.” True. He’d fired D’angelo three months ago and had never gotten around to hiring a new one. Gabriel got Tristan into the jeep with little trouble. It was when they were both seated that the problem arose. Either Tristan thought he was with the buxom red-head or he imagined Gabriel could be his pillow because he cuddled right up to his brother, squeezing

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his waist and burying his face in the side of Gabriel’s neck. Tristan huffed then sighed, settling down. Gabriel’s heartbeat picked up an anxious rhythm. Tristan was too close for comfort and parts of him were starting to take notice. Brogan glanced up at the rear-view mirror. “You okay, Gabe?” “Huh? Yeah, fine,” Gabriel said, praying it was too dark in the interior for Brogan to see how ‘not fine’ he really was with Tristan curled around him. He debated whether to try and pry off Tristan and, finally, decided that at least removing his arm would be a good idea. No sooner had he wrapped his hand around Tristan’s wrist than his brother became animated—well, at least, his lips did. “Red head. Big Boobs. She reminded me of Bekah. Hmm…bitch.” Brogan snorted with laughter in the front seat. Gabriel ignored him. Curious, he asked, “Who is Bekah?” “Ex. She left me after I lost my beer.” More laughter from Brogan. Gabriel tried to slap Brogan in the back of the head, but his arm wouldn’t reach unless he shifted Tristan. Idiot. “You mean money,” Gabriel corrected. “Erm…no…mag-ma-ga-zeen. Playgirl. Lost it, and she found it.” His heart skipped a beat in his chest. Inadvertently, his fingers dug into Tristan’s shoulder until his brother made a distressed sound. “Sorry. Listen to me, Tristan. Was it Playgirl or Playboy?” He asked the question as if his life depended on it. It probably did. Tristan huffed against his neck. “Playgirl. No gays for Bekah.” “Holy shit!” Brogan said from the front seat. Holy shit was right.

**** Gabriel’s hands trembled as he undid the buttons of Tristan’s shirt. Tristan was dozing, flittering between sleep and wakefulness. He was a lightweight when it came to drinking,

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like Gabriel was, but even more importantly it appeared that Tristan was gay too or at least bi. What were the odds? Slim, he was sure. Trying not to think too far into the future, Gabriel made his touches impersonal as he helped Tristan strip down to boxers. He would have let Brogan do it if Tristan had known the bodyguard enough to trust him, but Gabriel wouldn’t let someone who was a stranger to his twin do something like undress him. But it was hard. Damn hard. He exposed each new inch of Tristan’s skin. Golden. Bare as his skin used to be before the tats and piercings. His twin had fine definition of muscles, especially the belly that rippled as Tristan shifted to allow Gabriel to tug off his shirt. Gabriel tried not to linger over the fine trail of golden hairs beneath his brother’s navel that glittered in the light afforded by the bedside lamp. He would not fantasise of where the happy trail led. Instead, he concentrated on not brushing against his twin’s warm skin more than he needed to as he finished up and tucked Tristan in. For his own sanity, he left Tristan in his boxers. Not much of neat freak, Gabriel scooped up Tristan’s clothes, dumped them in a chair and walked out of the room. He shut the door quietly and leaned back against it. Plunging long fingers through his golden mane, Gabriel sucked in a shaky breath of air and tried to get his heart back to a normal rhythm. This new revelation was both good and bad news. Good because it comforted that small part of him that had refused to die—the part that wished and hoped that Tristan could feel the same way about him, if only the smallest bit. It was also bad because it damned the part of him that knew it could never be. Not only was it unnatural, but Gabriel felt sure that Tristan would never feel for him in any fashion other than as a brother. To allow that small portion of him to hope was foolish because, when that hope was finally quashed, it would be even more painful than it already was. Even so, his thoughts did nothing to dispel his erection. He’d been rock hard and aching since Tristan had wrapped his warm body around him in the jeep. He needed a shower. Yes, that and his hand. Gabriel made fast work of secluding himself away in his room. He locked the door, turned on the shower in the connecting bathroom to the hottest he could stand it then

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shucked his clothes. Gabriel stepped under the spray, tilting his head up so that the hot water pelted his face. He ran his fingers through his clinging hair that had turned brown in its wet state. A groan passed his lips as the warm water tapped against the sensitive head of his cock. Closing his eyes, he imagined it wasn’t the water raining down on his cock. Instead, the caresses came from a hot mouth and a wicked tongue. He moaned, reaching down to grasp his cock, fisting himself from root to tip. His thumb flicked over the head, adding more pressure as he envisioned a hot sucking mouth. Gabriel’s balls drew up tight against the base of his cock and pre-cum leaked profusely from the head, washed away by the showerhead. He was close. It wouldn’t be long now before he came. He’d been aroused for hours—for an entire day since Tristan’s arrival. His hips started to move, thrusting his erection through the tunnel his fist had made. Gabriel dropped his head so water wouldn’t run into his mouth as he gasped, as he cried out and sped up the motion of his hand. The pleasure drew up from his balls, spilling from the end of cock and painting the white tile. Momentarily weak, Gabriel leaned heavily against the cool tile. Water cascaded down his back, and he shivered. His eyes remained closed as he fought to maintain the vivid image that had set off his powerful release. Behind Gabriel’s eyelids, Tristan smiled knowingly.

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Chapter Four

Tristan awoke with a pounding headache. When he managed to peel his eyes open, he was staring at a glass of water and two aspirin on the nightstand next to his bed. He sat up gingerly, careful of too much movement. “Thanks, Gabe.” He reached out and took up the water and pills. They both went down easily. He drained the cup, finding himself with a powerful thirst. The foul aftertaste in his mouth and a demanding bladder turned his thoughts to the bathroom down the hall. Ever the conservative, Tristan dug through his duffle until he found a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Once he was covered, he padded down the hall barefoot. Inside the bathroom, he flicked on the light, winced at the brightness and squinted at his reflection in the mirror. “Shit.” He looked like death rolled over. In a vain attempt to better his appearance, Tristan splashed his face and ran damp fingers through his hair. Then he stumbled over to the toilet and took care of business. An hour later, he emerged from his room showered, dressed and hungry. He looked for his twin, but there was no sign of Gabriel. The stove was cold. Apparently, his brother didn’t cook every day. Tristan found a box of cereal and a bowl and set them on the counter. He was just heading for the refrigerator to grab some milk when the doorbell rang and rang and rang again. Skirting the counter, Tristan ran-walked to the front door and pulled it open. He had no clue what kind of fruitcake would ring the bell that many times, but then again it could just be one of Gabriel’s band members. Ty seemed like the type of guy who would pull stunts just to get on your nerves. Only the man at the door wasn’t Ty. The guy was on the small side, and at first, Tristan took him to be a teenager, but on closer inspection, the man was clearly an adult. Age lines bracketed his deep-set, brown eyes. A button nose, thin lips, and a washed out complexion completed the sickly look to the man.

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He was dressed in a dingy yellow T-shirt and jeans that looked moth eaten instead of fashionably shredded. Despite all that, the man grinned up at Tristan. His eyes roamed over Tristan from head to toe, taking in his clean, white-collared shirt, ironed jeans, and bare feet. “Nice,” the guy said. “I see you weren’t kidding when you said you meant to turn your life around.” Tristan frowned for all of a minute. Then it clicked in his tired brain. This man must have thought he was his brother. “I’m not—” The guy breezed past him, already talking to himself. “Nice makeover, too. Jeez, Gabriel, I feel like I hardly know you.” The stranger laughed softly. Leaving the door gaping open because there was no way he was closing it and giving the guy the impression he wanted him to stay, Tristan moved in the smaller man’s direction. He watched the stranger, who evidently knew his brother, stroke the fine leather couches with his hand. “Um, who are you, exactly?” The smaller man whirled on him. “Ah, shit, Gabriel, don’t be like that. I said I was sorry.” The man approached Tristan. His small hands fisted Tristan’s shirt. “What does a guy have to do to make amends? Hmm?” The hands went from clutching his shirt to stroking his hard abs. “You want me on my knees? Is that it? You want me to beg for it?” Oh, hell no. This had gone on long enough. Tristan grabbed the man’s wrists and pushed him back with more strength than he meant to. He just couldn’t seem to help himself. He was so physically revolted by the man’s touch and the unwashed rank smell emanating from his body. “Look! I’m not Gabriel, okay. I’m Tristan, Gabriel’s twin brother. You’ve got the wrong guy.” Tristan pushed an agitated hand through his hair. Just what type of crowd was Gabriel hanging out with anyway? “And I’m Brad Pitt!” the man bit out. He threw his hands up in agitation. “What’s up with the fuckin’ games, Gabriel? I come here trying to make up with you, and you act like you don’t even know me—” “Mark!” Mark whipped his head towards the door and froze. Tristan watched his eyes grow wide then flick back to him. Tristan turned to watch his brother stroll into the room, dressed

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in workout clothes and glistening with sweat. Gabriel looked mad enough to set the world on fire. “What the fuck are you doing here?” “Gabby, baby! What’s going on here?! You never told me you had a brother,” Mark whined, lifting his hands up pleadingly. “Because it was none of your damn business!” Gabriel grabbed Mark’s arm and started tugging him towards the door. “Let’s go. I want you out. I thought I told you never to come here again. Eh?” “Yeah, but Gabe, I’m hurting real bad. I had a bad week. I just need something to tide me over. You got anythin’?” “No.” Tristan watched his brother all but fling Mark into the hallway. His head spun, dizzy with the implications of Mark’s words. “Get the fuck out of here, Mark, or I’m calling security.” Gabriel slammed the door in Mark’s face. Seconds later, a kick rattled the doorframe. “You know what? Fuck. You. Gabriel. You’ll get yours, man! You’ll fuckin’ get yours.” The tirade was followed by another angry kick then Tristan heard Mark marching down the hall. Gabriel slipped the small towel off his shoulder and rubbed it over his flushed face. He turned slowly, not looking at Tristan, busying himself with drying off. “Who was that, Gabe?” Tristan asked. “Nothing.” “Nothing? That guy just wanted—” “He wanted money,” Gabriel insisted. “Nothing but money so that he could get high.” “But—” “Leave it.” “Gabe?” “Leave it!” Gabriel growled. Then without so much as a ‘how was your morning’, he walked off towards his room. Tristan stood between the living room and kitchen. He stared at the wall and contemplated pursuing some answers.

****

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And angels would come down, Turning all the hurt around. Immortalise my soul, Take out the bitter cold. The crowd went wild as Gabriel sung the words. None of them seemed to notice that there was something missing tonight, some spark of interest, of dedication that Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to feel as he sung the lyrics. His band had noticed his lacklustre attitude, but they still played as if nothing was wrong. The public came first. They all knew that. So Gabriel kept singing like his heart didn’t hurt. He imagined he could feel his brother’s eyes watching him backstage. They’d been invited to sing for a fundraising concert in Carson City, Nevada. Gabriel hadn’t expected Tristan to climb on the tour bus, but he had. Tristan didn’t seem upset with him, though it was hard to tell. Gabriel had been avoiding an open conversation with him for over three days. Mark’s visit had shaken Gabriel up. He was a ghost from the past that Gabriel just wanted to forget. It had taken a lot of time to get over Mark or, more importantly, the demons Mark had introduced into his lifestyle. Like most rock stars Gabriel had been tempted by the fast-paced, expensive nightlife. Drugs, booze and partying had substituted what he didn’t have—the love of the only person in the world who could make him feel whole again. To fill that void, Gabriel had surrounded himself with people he thought cared for him. He’d experimented with drugs, popping opiates and snorting cocaine. He had pulled all-nighters with Mark at his side, throwing expensive low-class parties where people threw away their inhibitions and exalted in debauchery. Thinking back on it now, Gabriel realised the only thing that had saved him was thinking of how much Tristan would disapprove. He’d partied hard, sinned often yet it died quick. Sometimes, he wondered if it had ever happened at all. Had he lived for six months as a drug addict? Spent thousands of dollars on opiate parties and lacing Mark’s pockets. Gabriel couldn’t remember all of it. Frankly, he didn’t want to remember. He hadn’t been so stupid as to completely disregard his zest for life. He’d been meticulous about using

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protection during the rare times he’d engaged in sex always refusing to participate in the orgies that sometimes happened at his parties, and despite him not sharing Tristan’s fear of needles, Gabriel had flat out refused to shoot anything in his veins. Still, after he’d decided to turn his life around—about the time he realised his brother was in trouble with his business and might need him—Gabriel had been tested for every STD and virus in the book. A year later, his tests still came up clean. His paranoia was laid to rest, if not his conscience. That would not let him forget. The shame would not let him look Tristan in the eye. The show ended, and Gabriel hurried off stage, letting the rest of the band soak up the spotlight and toss goodies into the crowd. He knew he was being rude, but he couldn’t bring himself to stay on stage a moment longer. Backstage were tables laden with snack foods, bottles of water, sport drinks and anything else the band had requested. Gabriel snagged a bottle of water in passing and hurried past the stage hands before anyone could detain him. His dressing room was a modified janitor’s closet. It was a descent size, and lights had been rigged to brighten it up. He shared the room with the other members of the band, and he was looking forward to some alone time before the rest of Thrice Broken came in with their raucous noise. But that was not to be. As Gabriel opened the door, he was confronted with his twin. Tristan was seated before the powder table and wall to wall mirror. He looked so handsome in the bright lights of the dressing room. Gabriel took a cursory look over his brother’s khaki pants, brown loafers and conservative, navy-blue polo shirt. His golden hair was rakishly tumbled about his head, as if he’d speared fingers through it all night long. The harsh lights cast the side of his face in a glowing gold colour, and Gabriel felt his heart skip a beat. They were so utterly different. He, in his leather pants, tight black T-shirt, and squaretoed, leather boots. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Tristan would never have made the terrible decisions he had. Tristan wouldn’t have poisoned his system with liquid death. Tristan never would have handed Mark two thousand dollars to supply him with three-week’s worth of cocaine. Tristan never would have hung out with a crowd who wanted him for his money or wanted to sleep with a B-list rock star. And most of all, if Tristan knew, he would be disgusted. Gabriel couldn’t deal with such a look coming from his

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brother. But how had he ever thought he could hide it? Starting from when they were able to talk, Gabriel had always told his brother everything. Everything. “We need to talk,” Tristan said. The cowardly thing to do would have been to back out of the room and close the door. Gabriel wanted nothing more than to be a coward at the moment, but somehow, he found the courage to stay. He nodded, stepped farther into the room and shut the door. He set his bottle of water on top of a prop, leant back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest—an unconscious defensive gesture as he prepared himself for what was to come. “Tell me about Mark.” Gabriel stiffened. This was it. Tristan was going to head back home after Gabriel revealed what a fuck-up he was. Gabriel swallowed. “What do you want to know?” “For starters, how do you know him?” “I thought that was obvious,” Gabriel tried to joke, though he felt that humour was well beyond reach at the moment. Apparently, Tristan didn’t find it any funnier than he had. Gabriel shrugged and said, “I dated him for a few months about a year and a half ago.” “And?” “And what?” He wanted nothing more than to crawl in a hole and hide. “Is he a drug addict?” Tristan’s expression was pensive and concerned. He reminded Gabriel of a counsellor talking gently to a kid. Gabriel wanted to be angry. He wasn’t some naïve little boy, but instead, he found himself grateful for Tristan’s nonjudgmental tone. “Yes.” Gabriel closed his eyes, unable to bear the concerned look from his brother a moment longer. His eyes burned, his throat burned. Oh, God! “Did you do drugs with him?” “Yes.” Such a simple word, but it hurt like hell to say it, to admit the truth. None of his band members had confronted him directly about his habits, not even Kane or Marilyn. They’d all offered him support, saying if he needed anything they were there. In the daylight

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hours, he’d held himself together very well. No one had a clue of how sinful his nightlife was. No one but Tristan now. And he was the one person Gabriel would rather not have told. Gabriel felt a sob welling up in his throat and swallowed it down, but not before a small whimper broke free. He covered his face with his hands in abject humiliation. Tristan hadn’t been with him for a month, and he was already weeping like a baby. The hands that covered his own startled him, made him jerk his head up and look at Tristan. Tristan tugged his hands down and held them in his own. Their blue gazes locked, one soul looking into its reflection. Tristan’s thumbs ran over his knuckles, sending shivers rippling over Gabriel’s skin. “Hey, man, just tell me you’re done with Mark and you’re done with drugs.” Tristan took a step closer until their chests almost touched. “Tell me, Gabe, and I’ll believe you.” Gabriel’s heart slammed up against his ribs in a panicked rhythm that had nothing to do with the skeletons in his closet and everything to do with Tristan’s proximity. Tristan really had to stop touching him, or he was going to go up in flames. Even knowing it was a bad idea and that he should be pushing his brother away, Gabriel curled his fingers around Tristan’s. His breath hitched, and he managed to say “I am. I’ve been clean for thirteen months now. I’m done, Tristan. I swear it.” Tristan nodded, and a small smile curled his sensual mouth. Just like that Gabriel was absolved of his crime. He didn’t doubt Tristan forgave him, that he would think no more of it. If he knew anything about his twin, it was that Tristan had a forgiving heart, especially when it came to him. Gabriel found an answering smile tilting up the corners of his own mouth. “Thank you.” Shaking loose one of his hands, Tristan startled him by caressing the pad of his thumb over the skin inches away from Gabriel’s mouth. “I had almost forgotten you have a dimple here, Gabe.” Just that simple touch, sizzled along Gabriel’s nerve endings. He groaned, and his eyes fluttered shut but quickly snapped open. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “Gabriel what did—” His twin started to say, but Gabriel sealed his question with a kiss.

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Nothing in life had prepared Tristan for being incinerated from head to toe. He almost expected licking flames and a little devil to spring up behind him. Instead, he was met with soft, heated lips and a questing tongue. It felt like being pulled apart and put together again. Arousal shot straight to his gut and landed in his groin. His cock hardened all at once to an achingly brutal erection. Tristan groaned against the fierce pressure behind his zipper, but most of all, he couldn’t help vocalise the pleasure of his brother’s thrusting tongue inside his mouth. Tristan captured it and suckled it gently, forgetting in his mindless arousal and hunger, the principles that forbade such activities. Gabriel surged off the door and pressed against Tristan’s body, fitting as if he belonged there. Tristan felt the same steely heat press against his erection as their bodies melded together. Gabriel’s fingers tunnelled in Tristan’s hair, his grip desperate, his kiss even more so. Gabriel whimpered into their kiss. His teeth nipped at Tristan’s lower lip as if trying to devour him. Tristan’s mind reeled at the clear evidence of his brother’s hunger for him. An answering jolt of white-hot arousal slid into his gut, making Tristan shiver uncontrollably. Knock. Knock. “You decent in there?” a female voice called from the other side of the door. The brothers sprung apart as if lightning had just crashed down between them. Averting his gaze from Gabriel, Tristan spun around, giving the door his back, and rubbed both hands over his furiously blushing face. The door squeaked open, and Tristan spotted Josie and Britney, the hairdresser and makeup artist for Thrice Broken, through the wall-towall mirror. They carried shopping bags and large cups of iced coffee. “Hey, babes,” Josie purred. “How was the concert?” Gabriel recovered first. “It was good. You guys went shopping? What’d you get?” Afraid that he’d look suspicious just staring at a wall, Tristan reluctantly turned back towards the threesome. Britney waved enthusiastically at him. He managed a half-smile for the cute blonde. Josie was focused on Gabriel. “T-shirts and other memorabilia. We even got a Fisticuffs’ T-shirt for you.”

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Tristan darted a look at his brother, amazed at how calm and collected he looked. Tristan’s hands shook, so he shoved them in his pockets. He wondered if his lips looked as kiss-swollen as they felt. God, don’t let them suspect anything! His belly flipped and curled into a queasy ball as the realisation of what he had just done sunk in. I kissed Gabriel… I kissed Gabriel. I kissed Gabriel! And he’d liked it. “You okay, Tristan?” Britney asked worriedly. “You look kinda flushed.” Tristan nodded, but suddenly, it was all too much. The room, Britney and Josie’s curious stares, the bright lights of the vanity, his warm, bruised lips, and the hard-on that raged like a damning exclamation point within his khakis. Shaking his head, Tristan headed for the door, fresh air and freedom. Someone called his name, but he didn’t answer to it, didn’t wait to see what they wanted. He just walked and kept walking until he was out on the quiet, lonely sidewalk of downtown Carson City, Nevada.

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Chapter Five

Twenty minutes before two in the morning, Gabriel got the call. Brogan’s tired voice was on the other end of the phone. “I found him.” Gabriel sank down onto the hotel’s couch with a sigh of relief. “Where was he?” “Place called Rucker’s. Give me twenty.” Brogan hung up without so much as a goodbye. Gabriel wasn’t annoyed. That was Brogan’s personality—brutally honest and to the point. Gabriel was just glad Brogan had found Tristan. Though Gabriel would have preferred being part of the search party looking for his brother, he also realised Tristan might not get in the car if he was in it. Son of a bitch. He had no idea how he was going to salvage this. He’d fucked up before but never this royally. Keeping his expression neutral was the best Gabriel had managed all night. After Tristan had stormed out, Britney and Josie had barraged him with suspicious questions. It both amused and frustrated him that his own band members and crew automatically attributed any fallout between him and his brother as his fault. Josie had proven him right about meeting Tristan. She’d all but salivated when she’d seen his brother. Britney had been a surprise. She didn’t seem the type to be impressed by a pretty face, but Tristan was a charmer—of that there could be no doubt. He certainly charmed you, his conscience enthused. No, he’d more than charmed Gabriel, and that was the damning part. He was in love with Tristan, no narcissistic, misplaced, underlying grief psychosis. Just pure, unadulterated need. Loving Tristan was like breathing: necessary and impossible to defy. Gabriel had known it since he was thirteen, fought it for what seemed like forever and confirmed it tonight. The kiss they’d shared had been like nothing he’d ever felt. It had nothing to do with the method, the taste of Tristan’s delicious mouth or the pleasure-induced shivers that had racked both their frames—all of which he’d felt before to a certain degree. It had everything to do with rightness. Tonight had felt right, like two pieces of a puzzle being slid into place.

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Even now, his gut and things much lower, pulsed with longing. He could imagine what Tristan must be thinking. Knowing his logical twin, Tristan was trying to reason why he’d kissed Gabriel back, because there was no doubt in Gabriel’s mind that, for several agonising seconds, Tristan had returned his kiss with just as much enthusiasm. Tristan probably wanted to forget that it had happened at all. Hell, he probably wanted to head back home, never mind there was little to nothing for him when he got there. The waiting and not knowing had been tearing Gabriel up inside for hours. If Tristan left him, turned his back on him, again, Gabriel had no idea how he’d recover this time. I have to get him to stay. At all costs. Gabriel thought desperately. He was about ready to swear to anything, even if it burdened his soul. He couldn’t lose his brother again. He couldn’t.

**** Tristan wasn’t drunk. No, the headache from hell he’d woken up with the morning after club Orion had taken care of his desire to douse his conscience in alcohol. But the moment he stepped inside of the hotel room, he shared with Gabriel, he regretted his sobriety terribly. He shook like a leaf. The hours he’d been away from Gabriel had not diminished his desire for his twin. In fact, the moment he stepped through the door, the burning embers of his arousal, spawned into a full-fledged inferno. Tristan ducked his head and tried to be unobtrusive as he made a beeline for the bathroom. Gabriel sprung to his feet, intercepting his path. The fingers that closed around Tristan’s arm seemed unnaturally hot, or perhaps, it was just Tristan’s fevered brain working overtime. Though Gabriel’s grip wasn’t tight, it drew him to a stop just the same. Their eyes clashed, sky blue turned indigo in the dim hotel lights. “I’m sorry,” Gabriel said in a voice that sounded like sandpaper. Then he flinched, likely remembering what his apology had been a prelude to the last time. “I-I mean I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was wrong. I don’t know what came over me. I…it will never happen again.” Tristan’s gut clenched at the promise. Never? But he wanted it to happen again. Here. Now.

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Tristan’s vocal chords felt paralysed. What was there to say? Yes, I agree? He didn’t. “Not…” He cleared his throat and tried again. “Not your fault.” Not entirely anyway. Gabriel shook his head, clearly not accepting being absolved of his sins. “Please, don’t go.” Tristan felt the desperation behind those words. They echoed inside his own head, in his gut. “I won’t.” He’d come to realise during the hours while he sat and people-watched in the noisy gloom of club Ruckers that there was no way in hell he would walk away from Gabriel again. To do so would destroy them both. He was sure of it. “I won’t,” he repeated, as if the first time was for Gabriel and the second a promise himself. Visibly relieved, Gabriel loosened his grip on Tristan’s arm. His eyes dipped down to the carpet, like a chastened boy. Gabriel stepped back. “Thank you.” Not bothering to answer as a hot tear slipped from the corner of his eye, Tristan bolted for the bathroom and shut the door. He locked it and slid down until his butt hit the cold linoleum floor. Hanging his head, Tristan watched as tears formed a tiny puddle between his feet.

**** Gabriel was almost afraid to breathe for fear that he would shatter. The silence was deafening between the brothers as they undressed for bed. Shy as two school girls, they turned their backs to each other as they exchanged their jeans for pyjama bottoms and tossed T-shirts on a chair arm—at least, Gabriel did. Bare-chested, he turned around to find his brother in a T-shirt. Tristan carefully folded his clothes and tucked them in a dark-green duffle bag. Gabriel tried to watch his brother without being obvious. Tristan disappeared into the bathroom with toothpaste and toothbrush. He returned a few minutes later then it was Gabriel’s turn. He got ready for the night without looking in the bathroom mirror. He also set the lights on low, wary of the bright setting. When he returned to the other room, Tristan was already under the covers in his bed, with his back to him. Sighing quietly, Gabriel pulled back his covers and sat on the end of the bed to take off his ring and bracelet. He thought

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about turning on the TV but decided against it. He wasn’t interested on watching anything. Even having it on for background noise would probably irritate him at this point. He switched off the light, plunging the room into darkness. He slid under his covers and lay on his back, counting and recounting the tiny specks of light shimmering on the ceiling through the blinds from the room’s only window. Time seemed to creep by. He kept watching the big red numbers on the digital clock change as he waited for dawn. The sudden brightness of the bedside lamp startled him. Gabriel sat up, looking across the less than four feet of space that separated him from his twin. Tristan had his head in his hands. He was sitting at the edge of his bed, turned towards Gabriel, bare feet planted on the floor. Gabriel hadn’t even heard him move. His heart slammed into his ribs. Had Tristan changed his mind about staying? Watery blue eyes gazed at him as Tristan lifted his head. “I’m sorry, Gabriel!” Gabriel’s pulse thundered. He slid out of bed, moving on instinct, hardly caring about his resolve to keep his distance. Tristan obviously needed him. He could do nothing but go to him. In a heartbeat, he settled down beside his brother, wrapping his arms around Tristan and hugging him close. Tristan’s cheek rested on his collarbone, his messy hair tickled the beard stubble on Gabriel’s chin. Gabriel stroked his head. “It’s okay, Tris.” Tristan shook his head. “No.” He tried to straighten and pull away, but Gabriel wouldn’t let him. “Let go! Let go!” Tristan pushed at Gabriel’s chest so hard Gabriel was forced to release him. Tristan shot up off the bed and retrieved his bags. He started pulling out clothes. “I have to get out of here.” Panicked, Gabriel got up and tried to take the bag away. “Wait! Why, Tristan? You promised. You said you wouldn’t leave me.” Old fears flared their ugly head. Years upon years of life without his Tristan—only emails, and phone calls and letters. Years of stilted conversation where he might as well have been talking to a stranger for all the information they’d shared. The fear of never seeing Tristan again, never touching him again had driven Gabriel to self-medicate with meaningless relationships and drugs.

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Tristan paused. Wet trails of tears ran down both cheeks. He stared at Gabriel, his heart in his eyes. “Because…because I’m not sorry. N-not like I should be, Gabriel. I’m not sorry you kissed me or that I liked it. I want…I want…well, it doesn’t matter what I want. It’s sick. I’m sick. I—” “You said…” Gabriel tugged the bag from his twin’s grasp and tossed it on Tristan’s bed. He reached up and cradled Tristan’s jaw in both hands. Closing the gap between them, Gabriel let out a ragged breath and leant forward until their foreheads touched. “You said you wouldn’t leave me, Tris. You promised.” The agonised whimper that tore from Tristan’s throat drove a hot shard of need deep into Gabriel’s core. With a hungry sound of his own, Gabriel damned them both for the second time in two days.

Tristan hadn’t gone back on his word. He wasn’t going to abandon Gabriel. He just needed some time and space to sort out his feelings, to leash his desires and slow down the whirlwind of thoughts circulating around and around in his head. Tristan had pretended to be asleep, but he hadn’t caught a wink since he lay down. How could he, with the memory of Gabriel’s kiss still warring with guilt and shame inside his head? Tristan had only thought to leave for a little while, to compose himself and get his head on straight again, but he had never counted on Gabriel’s unwillingness to let him go. Or that the moment Gabriel touched him and looked into his eyes, his world would crumble. You said you wouldn’t leave me. The words hummed inside his head, breaking and reshaping his resolve to do right by Gabriel. There was no resisting the magnetic pull that drew him to his twin. No denying the hungry yearning dwelling within him. Tristan gave in with one agonised sound, and Gabriel echoed his need. The kiss that followed lacked the civility of their first. Carnal hunger consumed them in greedy flames, clashing lips, tongues and teeth. Long fingers threaded through Tristan’s hair, grasping until it almost hurt. His scalp tingled pleasantly as Gabriel angled his head, taking the kiss deeper. Tristan hummed around the tongue in his mouth, tangling with his own. He suckled it greedily, always releasing, always coming back for more. His lungs burned from lack of air, but Tristan ignored it until he couldn’t anymore.

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Breaking from the kiss to inhale deeply allowed Gabriel’s hot mouth to trail over Tristan’s cheek and down his jaw line. Gabriel sucked at the pulse in Tristan’s throat until he shivered. His brother nipped his skin, licking a slow line to his collarbone. Impatient hands bunched up Tristan’s T-shirt, urging it over his head. He helped pull it off then did some exploring of his own, running his fingers over the smooth, firm planes of Gabriel’s chest. He found Gabriel’s nipple and massaged it with his thumb. His twin groaned, pushing into his hand. Gabriel tugged, urging Tristan towards his bed. When his twin fell, Tristan went with him. He reached out and pushed his duffle on the floor. Gabriel nipped his earlobe, drawing a groan from Tristan as he teased a patch of sensitive skin just behind his ear. “I love you, Tris.” His brother’s breath tickled over his neck. Gabriel rolled them until he was on top. Tristan didn’t mind, finding it easy to allow the more aggressive twin to lead. Gabriel’s heated words rolled through him in warm comforting waves. He opened his mouth to say them back but moaned instead as Gabriel sucked his bottom lip, rimming the sensitive inner tissue with the tip of his tongue. “Gabe,” he moaned. “I’m here, baby,” Gabriel promised. His hands slid over Tristan’s chest, setting off fireworks as his fingers skimmed over the surprisingly sensitive disks of Tristan’s nipples. Gabriel chuckled wickedly at Tristan’s indrawn breath. “Sensitive here, Tris?” Tristan arched as hot lips and a stabbing tongue closed over his nipple, tormenting the sensitive bit of flesh with strong suction and liquid heat. His hands flew up, sifting through Gabriel’s hair, cradling his head as his twin tormented first one then the other nipple. Humming happily in his throat, Gabriel kissed a path between the delineated lines of Tristan’s abs. He paused ever so briefly to swirl his tongue in Tristan’s navel then nudged the top of Tristan’s pyjamas with his chin. Tristan tensed, unsure if just one touch would send him into meltdown. Beneath the thin cotton of his pyjama’s, his cock throbbed and wept against his belly. Gabriel didn’t hesitate, his teeth caught the waistband of the pyjama’s, and he begin pulling them down. Tristan lost his grip on Gabriel’s hair in the process. Gabriel’s hands reached down to help his mouth do the job. No sooner had Tristan’s cockhead been exposed than Gabriel tongued the weeping slit hungrily.

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“You taste good, baby,” Gabriel said, licking beneath the sensitive underside of Tristan’s cock. Tristan cried out his brother’s name as he came. His orgasm was so unsuspected he didn’t have time to brace for it, let alone warn Gabriel. But there was no need. Gabriel slid his mouth down over the head of Tristan’s cock and swallowed each spurt of cum. Tristan looked down into shining eyes, dark with lust and love, and shivered. He held out his arms, instantly thinking of his brother’s need. Gabriel crawled up the bed and embraced him. “No need, brother,” he said, without be asked. “I came when you did.”

**** Sunlight found them spooned one behind the other, sound asleep with only a thin sheet thrown over their legs, their fingers interlocked and lightly clenched against the stomach of the twin in front. Gabriel woke first, wrapped around Tristan like a second skin. He felt the heat radiating off of Tristan into his body and vice versa. His chin was nestled on Tristan’s shoulder, and he took the opportunity to turn his head and bury his face in Tristan’s hair, breathing in the slightly citrus smell of his shampoo. He’d enjoy it while it lasted, knowing that, when Tristan awoke, the panic might very well set in again. His stomach churned uneasily at the prospect of what was to come. The best scenario would be Tristan willing to talk things out with him in a calm orderly manner. The worst case scenario would be rejection, which he couldn’t say he didn’t rightly deserve. Only a few hours had passed since he’d promised to keep his hands to himself and he’d already succumbed to temptation. There was no excuse for his behaviour except to say that wanting Tristan was the worst addiction he’d ever had. No drug he’d ever tried had tempted him so thoroughly. During the years they’d been apart, Gabriel had experienced more than one day of utter destitution. So many times, he’d wanted to travel back home and confront his twin, to beg Tristan’s forgiveness even though, logically, Gabriel knew he hadn’t done anything wrong. Living without Tristan was like living with only half his soul. The other part of him felt ripped and

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gouged out, hollow and aching. Now, with Tristan in his arms, he felt some semblance of the peace he’d felt as a boy. Back then, they’d been inseparable. It might be selfish of him, but Gabriel desperately wanted that again. Perhaps sensing Gabriel stir roused Tristan from sleep. Gabriel knew the moment his twin woke up. His body tensed. The muscles in his arms and legs felt like iron. Ignoring his numb right arm—the one Tristan was laying on—Gabriel tightened his grip on Tristan’s fingers, squeezing reassuringly. He laid his mouth against Tristan’s ear and said, “Talk to me, Tris. Tell me what you’re thinking.” In the silence, he heard his brother swallow. “Actually, I’m trying not to think right now,” Tristan confessed. Gabriel squeezed his eyes tightly closed and asked the question that restricted his heartbeat. “Do you hate me?” “No.” There was no hesitation in Tristan’s answer. Gabriel sighed. “You know things can never go back to the way they were.” “Yeah.” Gabriel gently nipped his brother’s shoulder. “Can I get more than one word answers, please?” On a shaky exhale, Tristan blurted, “I dreamt of this.” “Of what?” “You. Me. Laying like this in the bed and…doing other things. I didn’t want to. I tried everything I could do to get you out of my head, out of my dreams, but it was so hard. We might have been apart for seven years, Gabriel, but you were always with me.” “Ah, baby,” Gabriel groaned. “Me too.” He released his left-handed grip on Tristan, reached up and captured Tristan’s chin. He urged Tristan to turn his head and leant in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. “Me too, Tris. I dreamt of you a lot. I thought of you even more. This wasn’t what I planned. I thought I was really fucked up for thinking of you in this light, but the longer it went on, the more I realised I couldn’t help the way I felt.” It was like trying to change the colour of his eyes. Impossible. “I never expected you to return my feelings, but now that I know you do… I’m sorry, but I don’t have an off-switch, Tris. I can’t make this go away.”

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Gabriel’s heart lurched as he felt Tristan disengaging their other hand and moving away from him. He scooted back in the bed, prepared to let Tristan go if this was what he really wanted. But his brother was only shifting so he could turn around and face Gabriel. “I don’t want it to,” Tristan confessed. His hand came up, and his thumb traced the shape of Gabriel’s bottom lip. On instinct, Gabriel opened his mouth and licked the pad of Tristan’s thumb. Tristan moaned. His eyes flared as a visible shudder passed through him. “Tris, I want you so much.” The physical evidence of Gabriel’s desire was achingly hard, curled against his stomach and leaking a steady puddle of pre-cum just below his navel. He wondered if Tris was just as aroused then decided there was nothing stopping him from finding out. Reaching out, he found the hard evidence of his twin’s arousal. He and Tristan were similar in so many ways, and they were here as well, long and slender with a fat cap that tapered down to a slightly smaller shaft. Gabriel slid his thumb over Tristan’s weeping slit, earning him a whimper and a flex of Tristan’s hips. Then, to Gabriel’s surprise, Tristan’s fist wrapped around his cock, stroking up and down his shaft in an exploratory caress. Gabriel echoed his brother’s rhythm, determined they’d both come at the same time. He also forced his arm, which still tingled from lack of circulation, around Tristan’s back. He pulled his brother in close to him and sealed their lips together. The kiss was slower than their last, exploratory as their caresses and rife with deep emotion. “Oh, God, Gabe, I’m going to come,” Tristan moaned. Gabriel nodded, swirling his tongue around Tristan’s. “Me too.” His balls drew up tight against the base of his cock, and the pressure building in his groin suddenly exploded, spilling out his seed in copious amounts. Tristan’s cock erupted seconds later, coating Gabriel’s fingers and arm. Gabriel had never come so hard in his life. Knowing it was Tristan’s hand that brought him pleasure made it even more intense. His thoughts turned towards the possibility of a future without the dark cloud of secrecy—at least from each other—hanging over their heads. He knew it wouldn’t be easy. He had a public image to maintain and a close-knit band that had no idea. He and Tristan had a lot of planning to do, but with Tristan by his side, Gabriel knew everything would work itself out.

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Chapter Six

“You need a new look.” Tristan looked up from the book he’d been pretending to read. He’d been at it for over twenty minutes and was still only on the second paragraph. There was just no way he could concentrate. His mind was on an endless loop, replaying everything he and his brother had done last night and early this morning. He was torn between guilt and gut-clenching desire. Gabriel and the rest of the band were out doing an autograph signing gig in the ballroom of the Westonia Hotel while he, Josie and Britney occupied the VIP suites. Thinking that Tristan might get lonely, or so the girls had informed Gabriel and Tristan when they came up to the room with snacks and movies, Britney and Josie had been keeping him company for the last two and a half hours. He’d given them the bed, choosing the uncomfortable stiff-back chair because it was closest to the window, and the light streamed in pleasantly against the back of his neck. Giving up on getting any reading done, Tristan closed the book and set it down on an end table. Josie and Britney shifted on the bed staring at him expectantly. “A new look?” “Hell, yeah.” Josie hopped off the bed and started looking for something, probably her shoes which she’d kicked off earlier. All the while, she chatted excitedly. “If you’re going to hang out with rock stars, you’re going to have to look the part. Ah ha!” Pushing a fall of dark brown hair out of her eyes, Josie pulled a polka-dotted slip-on sneaker from beneath the bed, sat back on her bottom and started to tug the shoe on. “Britney can do your hair and I’ll—” Tristan shook his head. “I’m not wearing makeup.” He wasn’t the artist here. Was he really even considering this? “And I’ll help you pick out a new wardrobe,” Josie finished. “I don’t know…” Tristan started to say, eyeing the blonde and brunette warily. Britney bounced off the bed and started gathering up their DVD cases and other paraphernalia. “Oh, come on, Tristan. Live a little. No offence,” she wrinkled her button nose, “but you look like a librarian in those clothes.”

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Tristan looked down at his black slacks and powder-blue oxford shirt. Librarian? “She’s right,” Josie chimed in. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I think men in casual attire are hot, but leather can be just as hot. Just look at your brother.” Hands on her hips, Josie mused. “Damn it, where did I put my purse?” “Here it is.” Britney dangled it from her pointer finger. “Thanks, doll.” Josie snatched up her dainty purse and rummaged around in it until she pulled out a black card. “What’s that?” Tristan asked. “Thrice Broken’s credit card. Are we going shopping or what?” Shaking his head, Tristan started to make up another excuse. He really hated shopping, all the changing rooms, and racks, and crowded stores, and bumping into people. And then there was the fact he was frequently mistaken for his brother. “Ah, come on,” Britney pleaded. “We can surprise the band. Imagine the look on your brother’s face when he sees you.” That did it. Maybe Gabriel would be impressed. Tristan could prove he wasn’t as starchy as he appeared. Maybe he did need a new look to go with his new lease on life. Tristan unfolded himself from the uncomfortable couch. “Let’s go.”

**** Josie squealed. She actually squealed in a high pitched excited way that made Tristan wince, but he was smiling. Her joy was infectious. He had to admit that the shopping hadn’t been that bad. Britney and Josie had been more effective than any bodyguard, keeping the fans who mistook him for Gabriel at bay. Even though some of the price tags had made his eyes bug out, the service had been more than worth it. The store clerks had been happy to help reign in the flood of women who ran to their department store to gawk. Britney, Josie and Tristan had pretty much shopped unmolested. Four hours and thirty-five exhausting trips into changing rooms later, Tristan had emerged from the shops laden with bags. Britney had tapped one of her hairdresser friends for a favour, and the manager of Kutting Edge had allowed her to use a chair in her hair salon to do Tristan’s hair.

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Without letting him look into a mirror, Britney and Josie ordered him into one of his new outfits and carted him back off to the hotel. By the time they arrived back to the hotel, it was late, but neither woman wanted to miss the reaction of the rest of the band when they got their first look at the new Tristan. Tristan still felt a little self-conscious in his new duds. He’d never owned a pair of square toed boots before, and he worried he looked dorky in the brown leather jacket, but Josie’s excited chatter on the elevator assured him that at least someone thought he looked great. Arriving outside the door to the adjacent rooms he shared with Gabriel, Josie and Britney both looped their arms through one of his before they unlocked the door and went in. Ty was sitting at the edge of the bed, packing away a slice of pizza while trying to play Playstation 3 one-handed. Kane was gone, but that was nothing unusual, and Sampson and Gabriel were seated at a small table playing cards. Gabriel’s back was to Tristan, but he turned around when he caught sight of Sampson’s bugged out eyes. Josie broke the silence. “Well? What do ya’ll think?” Gabriel’s eyes said it all as they raked over Tristan. A smile split his face as he got up and walked over to his brother. “Shit, I hardly recognise you.” Britney laughed but peeked around Gabriel at Ty. “Is that meat-lovers?” Ty nodded. “Yep.” He looked up at Tristan. “Nice outfit. I’m fuckin’ jealous of the hair, dude.” Gabriel reached up and ran his fingertips over Tristan’s hair. “You outdid yourself, Britney.” Tristan struggled not to shiver at the touch, knowing the Britney and Josie would feel it. He couldn’t stop beaming though. Gabriel was all eyes. “Thanks,” Britney said, letting go of Tristan’s arm and heading over to the pizza. She plopped down next to Ty and grabbed up a slice. “We’ve been so busy with the makeover we barely managed to snag a pretzel in the mall. I’m starved.” So saying, Britney bit into her slice of pizza with gusto. “Hey, save some for me.” Josie started moving over to claim her share.

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Sampson spoke up from his corner of the room. “I’d say you’ve given Gabriel a run for his money. Shucks, I hardly know who’s prettier now,” he joked. Tristan blushed. “You really like it?” He wasn’t asking anyone in particular, but it was Gabriel who answered. “Hell yeah, bro.” Feeling like a big grinning dork, Tristan turned towards the bathroom. “Haven’t seen it yet.” “You shittin’ me? ” Ty said, then ‘omphed’ as Josie elbowed him in the side. “Watch your mouth, Ty.” “Yes, Mom.” “Don’t be a smart—” Tristan snapped on the bathroom light and glided towards the mirror. The man looking back at him wasn’t exactly a stranger, but the hairstyle and colouring made a world of difference. His hair was tumbled. There was no other way to describe the fashionably messy strands. Britney had clipped it shorter and added highlights to his dark-gold strands, making his hair resemble a lion’s mane. The colour and look made even him want to touch. So he did. It wasn’t as soft as it looked due to the stylin’ gel Britney had used, but it was still worth it. He liked it. It brought out his face, made him look less refined. Even his eyes seemed bigger. The outfit changed his appearance dramatically, as well. It fit better than he’d thought it would, although the clothes didn’t draw his interest as much as the hair. He’d seen it all while trying on outfits in the mirrored stalls of the dressing rooms. Gabriel stepped up beside him, grinning even bigger than Tristan. “Looks like you’re going to break more hearts than I ever did.” Tristan blushed, shooting a look at his twin brother. “Long as it’s not yours,” he whispered so only Gabriel could hear. Gabriel’s deep blue eyes looked into his own. In them, he could see himself reflected. He saw need. He saw love. He saw something that went deeper than flesh and blood. “Hey, Tristan,” Ty called. “If you want a slice of pizza, you’d better come sneak a piece from the box I hid under the bed.” “There is more under the bed?” Josie and Britney yelled simultaneously.

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Dissolving into laughter, the spell was broken between the brothers. Gabriel went to the bathroom door and leant out. “Better eat up. We’re heading home in thirty.”

**** Gabriel’s gaze swung to the darkened doorway at the back of the bus where he knew Tristan was sprawled out on a queen-sized bed sound asleep. He quickly averted his gaze before anyone noticed and darted a glance at Marilyn who was asleep on the long couch across from him. Josie was sleeping too, draped over the half table that served for the kitchen, and Britney was curled up on her end of the couch on his side of the bus, reading a magazine and listening to her headphones. Up front was their temporary driver, a forty-twoyear-old ex-bouncer named Carl. Sampson was seated on the passenger side, chatting Carl up and keeping him company. Ty and Kane had chosen to ride with Mitch, another of their bodyguards, and Brogan in the SUV that followed the bus. The coast was clear. If he was ever going to do it, now was the time. Only. He hesitated, biting his nails. He should let Tristan sleep. The chances of getting caught were too high. Stupid. Stupid. He stood up. Britney shifted and looked up at him. “I’m gonna catch a few winks,” he lied, yawning to show he was indeed tired. The truth was he was as high-wired as a circus act. Britney nodded and went back to reading her magazine. Before he chickened out, Gabriel made himself turn towards the narrow hall and darkened doorway to the back of the bus. The door was closed. He opened it, slid inside and closed it again. The space was narrow, barely enough room to manoeuvre around the large bed—well, large for a bus anyway. Gabriel stood where he was, back against the door, breathing ragged, adrenaline spiked, and cock as hard as a lead bar while he waited for his eyes to adjust. The blinds were slit, pouring golden light from lampposts over Tristan’s sprawled body every time they passed by a light. Tristan was still wearing the clothes he’d bought with Josie and Britney earlier that day, well, yesterday, technically. Gabriel hungrily eyed the skin-tight jeans. They stretched over Tristan’s long legs. Seemingly there were miles and miles of taut, jean-covered muscle to explore. Tristan’s left leg was bent, his limbs akimbo. Light slid over his mustard-yellow shirt

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with the Fisticuffs’ logo on it. He’d shed the leather jacket, and the T-shirt had ridden up in his sleep, showcasing a tantalising section of smooth flat belly. Gabriel groaned. He’d been thinking of his twin all night. All fucking night. He had endured several torturous hours of being near enough to touch Tristan but hampered by company. The moment he’d turned around in the hotel room and seen Tristan standing in the middle of the room with Britney and Josie hanging on his arms, he’d wanted to drag him off somewhere private, rip off his clothes and fuck him until neither one of them could move. The wanting hadn’t changed, hadn’t diminished in the least. And even though sex was out of the question, it didn’t mean Gabriel couldn’t indulge a little. He’d flip-flopped for over an hour now, unable to decide if it was worth the risk. Finally, he’d run out of patience. The damn bus wasn’t going fast enough for him, and each minute that ticked by seemed to drive his desire up a notch. Climbing onto the bed, Gabriel lifted Tristan’s leg and manoeuvred it over so he’d have more room. Tristan stirred, grumbling at being disturbed. Gabriel lay down beside him and gently shook his shoulder. “Hey, Tris, wake up.” Tristan stiffened, blinking rapidly until his eyes focused on Gabriel . He visibly relaxed. “What—” “Shh, don’t talk. In fact, be very quiet.” Tristan shook his head, clearly still sleep-muddled and not comprehending Gabriel’s reasoning. Gabriel cast about for a piece of cloth. He finally settled on a pillowcase. He stripped it off and pressed it into Tristan’s hand. “Here. If you think you need to make a sound, bite down on this.” Tristan’s eyes flared, but Gabriel didn’t have time to explain. Tristan would find out soon enough. Scooting down the bed, Gabriel rolled between Tristan’s slightly spread legs and forced them wider. Tristan stiffened all over again. “Shh, it’s okay, baby. Trust me, Tris.” Gabriel whispered the words so low he didn’t know if Tristan heard him or not. He smoothed his hands over the inseam of Tristan’s rockhard thighs. Even through the jeans, Gabriel could feel the heat. Tristan was his own little inferno. Gabriel let his fingers trail across a vulnerable patch of exposed belly. “Gabe,” Tristan breathed his name.

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In answer, Gabriel rubbed his cheek against the bulge between Tristan’s legs. His mouth was already salivating in anticipation of a feast. The memory of Tristan’s taste made his balls ache. He could smell Tristan’s unique musk through the jeans. Gabriel barely managed to bite back a sound of his own. His fingers, clumsy with impatience, found Tristan’s belt-buckle. He yanked it apart and tackled button and zipper. Tristan lifted his hips, helping Gabriel peel the pants away. Gabriel heard his twin taking in shaky breaths, rapid and shallow. He pulled the pants down all the way, making himself wait as Tristan’s cock sprung free, slapping up against his belly, pointing at his navel. Together, they got the jeans off. Gabriel slid his fingertips from the arch of Tristan’s feet, over the strong calves dusted lightly with gold hair, to the sensitive back of his knees. Here he gripped Tristan, tugged him open wider and felt him tense. Gabriel kissed the inside of one smooth thigh, nipped a quivering muscle then dragged his tongue up an invisible line to the juncture where groin met thigh. He sucked there, darted his tongue along the hot, smooth flesh and felt Tristan’s pulse beating a hard steady beat—a bit faster than usual but not alarmingly so. The hot bar of Tristan’s cock rested against his cheek. A wet pearl of pre-cum slid down the side of Tristan’s cock, and the heady scent of arousal swirled pleasantly in Gabriel’s nostrils. Unable to deny himself or Tristan any longer, Gabriel turned, kissing the root of Tristan’s cock but going for the tight vulnerable balls beneath it. He licked the soft, nearlyhairless sacs. Warmth and the slightly salty taste of Tristan’s skin rolled over Gabriel’s tongue. He groaned, sucking at first one ball then the next. Tristan whimpered above him. Gabriel looked up, along the planes of Tristan’s body and saw one arm move, the one with the pillowcase. The whimpering sound became muffled as Tristan shoved some of the cloth in his mouth. Ignoring the furious throb in his own cock, Gabriel relinquished Tristan’s balls with some regret and took his first lick of the pretty cock bobbing before him. Tristan’s hips twisted, like lightning had touched the sensitive organ and not simply the tip of Gabriel’s tongue. Swallowing a moan as a jolt of arousal slid through him, Gabriel reached up and grasped the base of Tristan’s cock, aiming the head in his direction, and he tongued the

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weeping slit, relishing the salty-sweet taste of pre-cum. The thighs beneath him went hard as granite, spasmed and released their tension then did it all over again. Taste so good, Tristan. Want you to come, brother. Want you to come in my mouth so I can drink you all up and swallow you down. Keep you forever. The words he couldn’t say aloud drifted around and around in his head as Gabriel began to suck in earnest. Sucking cock had never been his favourite thing to do, but because it was Tristan, because he wanted this part of his brother as much as he wanted the rest, Gabriel discovered he not only liked it—he craved it. The power of holding Tristan’s orgasm in his hands was a heady thing. Any way he could connect with his twin, he’d take it. “Gabe, Gabe,” Tristan gasped out. Gabriel increased his suction, bobbing his head, alternating between sucking and licking. He twisted his head and hand, creating yet another sensation for Tristan to contend with. Not long after, Tristan’s cock began to pulse. Gabriel backed off until just the head was in his mouth, wanting to taste and experience everything. Hips slightly elevated, thigh-muscles locked into rock-hard pillars, Tristan spurted. It was more than Gabriel had expected. He counted five copious loads, but he didn’t miss a drop, swallowing eagerly, sucking even after Tristan began to soften. Tristan went boneless. A soft sigh escaped his lips. Gabriel finally, reluctantly, let Tristan’s cock slip from his mouth and crawled up the bed. His dick was still being strangled in his jeans, but he wasn’t inclined to do anything about it—yet. Tristan turned to him, shuddering softly when Gabriel kissed the corner of his mouth. “You’re trying to kill me,” Tristan accused playfully. “I was still half sleep.” Gabriel grinned and whispered. “Did I wake you up?”

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Chapter Seven

How Tristan had ended up cruising gay porn sites he couldn’t say. One minute, he was typing up a resume for a prospective job he’d found in the newspaper, and the next thing he knew, curiosity had gotten the better of him. Two days had passed since that day he’d woken up to the most amazing blow job of his life in Thrice Broken’s tour bus. Now, all he could think about was what he had done with Gabriel. Sometimes guilt flared its ugly head, but for the most part, Tristan’s mind burst with the possibilities. He knew there was more to sex than blowjobs, but having never been involved with a man before, he wasn’t exactly sure how everything worked out. So he commenced research. Two hours passed before he knew it. One glance at his watch let him know that Gabriel would soon be home. He was practicing with the band, but he’d said he’d be back at four. Logically, Tristan realised his brother could walk in on him at any minute. Despite everything they’d done, he knew he’d still be embarrassed to be caught with his hand inside the ‘cookie jar’. It was just that there were so many amazing things he’d never heard of on the internet. Watching the free videos was highly addictive. He couldn’t look away. All the little links that had popped up when he’d typed in gay sex had to be clicked on. Some of the more extreme sites he visited made him a bit queasy, but he found quite a few that just made him plain hard. Drawing the line at pulling out his cock and jerking off, it was all he could do to reach down and adjust himself in the tight confines of his jeans. When a quarter after four rolled around, Tristan eyes were glued to the monitor watching a video entitled, Rory Gets a Rim Job. He found the video perversely arousing, his own sphincter contracted as he wondered what it could feel like to be on the receiving end or perhaps…giving one. He’d never thought of his anus in a sexual manner, but he knew logically that it was part and parcel of the gay lifestyle. Still, he wondered, could he do such a thing? Hearing a gasp behind him, Tristan froze then abruptly scrambled for the mouse and clicked the ‘x’ over and over again. Unfortunately, he’d somehow neglected to close out all

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the other windows. Video after video of men engaged in sexual acts popped up one after the other. His only consolation was that the speakers were turned off. As Tristan stabbed his finger on the mouse and closed out the last porn video, he heard the husky chuckle of his brother and turned to glare at Gabriel. Admittedly, the look would have been more effective if he wasn’t blushing so furiously. Damn. Even his embarrassment wasn’t enough to stop him from noticing how good Gabriel looked. He wore a light blue T-shirt with the band’s logo on it: a guitar and microphone melded into one entity. A thin, black leather jacket complemented his black jeans and boots. His golden hair had been swept back in a ponytail that looked anything but girly. Tristan’s cock jerked beneath his own dark blue jeans. The eyes that darted down to his lap quashed any hopes he’d harboured about Gabriel not noticing his arousal. “I knew there was a reason I hurried home today,” Gabriel said, his lips still twitched with the promise of a smile. “Find anything interesting?” Pushing to his bare feet, Tristan didn’t answer. He started heading for the bathroom. His body was so warm from the videos and embarrassment he had an intense craving for a cold washcloth to cool him down. Footsteps behind him let him know he was being followed. He swung on Gabriel at the door and growled, “What?” Frowning, Gabriel asked, “You mad at me, Tris?” Tristan sighed. Anger was his natural defence to uncomfortable situations—a bad habit he’d picked up from his father. “No, I’m not mad. I’m sorry.” Turning towards the sink, he twisted on the tap then bent down—which was hell on his crotch—and opened the cabinet door so he could get a washcloth. “I just… That was embarrassing. I didn’t mean for you to walk in and find me watching that.” After holding the washcloth under the cool stream of water, he wrung it out and slid if over his heated face and neck. Gabriel’s hand landed on his shoulder, gently urging him to turn and meet a concerned blue gaze. “Tristan, take it easy man. It’s not the end of the world. It’s just porn. I watch it, too.” Tristan nodded, feeling like a little boy. He’d overacted. It didn’t make him a pervert to watch two men having sex. Again, it was his teachings interfering with his common sense. He’d grown up, thanks to his father, believing homosexuality was dirty, sinful and the type

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of thing to be done in the dark by depraved men and women. Some of the things he’d seen had been so alien Tristan couldn’t even comprehend finding the courage to try it. Just thinking about it made his cheeks heat all over again. Just great! He dunked his washcloth under the faucet again. “I know. I know.” He nodded to his reflection in the mirror. He really was red in the face. Gabriel in comparison looked calm, cool and collected. He looked divine. Tristan felt his breath catch. His mind overlapped some of what he’d seen on the videos with what he’d done and had yet to do with Gabriel. Seeming to read his thoughts, Gabriel asked, “Do you want to talk about what you saw?” “Uh…” Oh, shit. Was he serious? Even though Tristan had about a bazillion questions he’d probably die from mortification before he uttered a word. “Um… No, that’s okay. I…uh…” Wringing out his washcloth, Tristan slapped it over a towel rack, mumbled an ‘excuse me’ so his brother would let him pass, and beat a hasty retreat back to the living room. He stopped dead in his tracks. What he needed to do was finish his resume, but no way in hell was he sitting in front of the computer again, right now. “I think we should,” Gabriel said, behind him. Tristan turned and watched his brother approaching, hips rolling in that smooth controlled glide of his. Tristan wanted to retreat, but his feet seemed rooted to the ground. He could only stare as his twin approached. Gabriel cupped his face, and locked gazes with him. “You’re afraid. I know you, Tristan. I know Dad and the poison he’s whispered for so many years. It’s not easy to get over that. I want you to be comfortable with yourself, with me…with us.” Tristan let his eyes drift closed as Gabriel’s thumb slid over his cheek. His senses seemed amplified by his arousal. He could feel the warmth of Gabriel’s hands and also the cold band of the silver ring on his brother’s thumb. He heard his heart thumping in his chest, increasingly frantic as fear took hold. He’d overreacted, and instead of reading him the riot act, Gabriel understood. Strangely it only increased his anxiety. He could have dealt with a snarky comment or two, even attitude from his twin. This gentle understanding nearly tore him in two with the guilt. How could Gabriel be so comfortable with who he was, and yet Tristan still struggled to be honest with himself? Tristan felt like he didn’t belong in any world. He had the views and cynicism of his father etched into his brain. He’d lived the life of a straight man, engaged in unfulfilling relationships because of fear, and because of

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bigotry, had suffered a seven year split from the only man who made him feel whole. And now that everything he’d thought he wanted was in reach, he hesitated, he feared, he pushed it away. He was ashamed—ashamed for wanting, ashamed for lusting, ashamed for enjoying every moment of it. Ashamed that even now, with Gabriel framing his face and regarding him like precious treasure, that he ached on the inside for something more. Oh, God, how he wanted. Gabriel had always known his heart. His twin was right. He was afraid.

Tristan wasn’t the only one scared. Gabriel was on pretty shaky ground himself, albeit for entirely different reasons. He didn’t want to push Tristan, to scare him away and sever the fragile connection they’d begun to build. Yet, he knew that he had to push Tristan. His brother was certainly never going to come out of hiding by himself. He understood what Tristan had to feel like, after all it hadn’t been so very long ago when he’d realised he was different. Back then, his fear had stemmed more from the rejection of his family than the fact that he was a gay man. He’d known his father would object to having a gay son. He’d even known his mother, who’d never stood up to their father a day in her life, would also follow suit. But it was what he hadn’t known that had hurt him the worse. He hadn’t expected the rejection from Tristan. If anything, he’d always believed he could count on the love and acceptance from his brother. When he hadn’t found it, Gabriel had been crushed. The experience had made him stronger. Although he would not wish to live seven more years without Tristan at his side, Gabriel knew he had done the right thing when he’d left. It was one of the biggest differences between the twins. Gabriel was willing to embrace who he was. Tristan was more inclined to want to please, even if it meant hiding his true self, needs and desires. Tristan had fought so long and hard to please their father. All Gabriel wanted to do was teach his brother that it was okay to be a little selfish. It was time Tristan started doing things that made him happy. So, Gabriel pushed, knowing it was what had to be done. “Open your eyes, Tristan, and tell me what you want.” He made the order firm but with an edge of gentleness. Tristan shook his head. A bead of moisture formed in the corner of his eye and slid down his cheek as he did so. “I can’t.”

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Gabriel caught the teardrop with his thumb and brushed it away. “You can. Don’t be afraid to be yourself, brother. You’re here with me, and you’re safe. I’m not going to judge you. Nothing you and I do together is ugly or tainted.” Unable to resist, Gabriel leant forward and kissed the corner of Tristan’s pouting mouth. “I won’t let it be.” Tristan shivered. His hands came up and fisted in the sides of Gabriel’s shirt as if he’d needed an anchor to remain standing. Tristan tilted his head up, leant in closer, eyes still held tightly shut. But Gabriel read Tristan’s desire loud and clear even if he were too afraid to open his eyes and confront it. Gabriel fully intended to get an oral confession. He wasn’t above seducing it out of his brother, but talking could wait, at least for the moment.

Tristan waited for the feel of Gabriel’s lips against his own. It never came. Instead his twin kissed his forehead, his eyebrows, each of his closed eyelids and the bridge of his nose before skipping his mouth and trailing soft lips up his jaw to his ear. “I’ll show you,” Gabriel promised. His tongue teased the lobe of Tristan’s ear, pulling it inside to be suckled. Tristan’s legs turned to Jello. His skin felt hot and tight, his flesh incredibly needy for touch, hungry for anything Gabriel would give him. He wanted to shrug out of his clothes. They felt suffocating against his heated skin, but he couldn’t seem to make his fingers work, to release their tight curl in Gabriel’s shirt. As if Gabriel read his mind, he leaned away and trailed his fingers down Tristan’s flat belly to his waist. He gripped Tristan’s shirt, tugging it up and forcing his twin to release his grip so that he could allow himself to be disrobed. Gabriel tossed Tristan’s shirt somewhere behind him. For once, Tristan didn’t care, couldn’t think of anything else but the hands that framed his face and pulled him forward. Shivering at the touch of Gabriel’s heated mouth, Tristan moaned aloud as Gabriel licked along his lower lip, coaxing him to open, even though there wasn’t any need. Gabriel invaded his mouth with hungry flicks of his tongue. His animal groan of pleasure vibrated against their lips. Tristan snagged Gabriel’s jacket, tugging, wanting it off. Now. Without breaking the kiss, Gabriel shrugged off his jacket and flung it away. His long arms came back around

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Tristan pulling them chest to chest. Tristan whimpered as his nipples rasped the roughtextured logo on Gabriel’s shirt. “God, I want you,” Gabriel breathed into his mouth. “Come here.” He pulled, walking backwards. Tristan willingly followed. Seconds later, inside Gabriel’s room, Gabriel reversed their positions, pushing Tristan down on the bed before him. He gave Tristan his full weight, and he wasn’t too heavy or very light, he felt just right. They fit like puzzle pieces. They always had. Unconscious of the gesture, Tristan parted his legs, allowing Gabriel to settle between them. His aching cock strained against his jeans, leaking profusely. When Gabriel ground against him, he cried out. “Gabe!” “Yeah, babe. Just feel.” Gabriel captured his tongue, suckled it. Tristan arched up, rubbed his body into Gabriel’s, wanting to do away with the clothes but not willing to part long enough to get both of them naked. Fortunately for him, Gabriel had more sense. His brother slid to the side, sat up and started toeing off his boots. “Jeans,” he growled at Tristan who blinked up at him, temporarily lost as to what to do with himself. Gabriel’s order set him into motion again. Tristan fumbled at his belt buckle with shaky hands. He glanced over at Gabriel to see that his progress was much more advanced. Gabriel had already shucked his T-shirt, socks and shoes. His belt-buckle, button and zipper came down in quick succession. Finally managing to free his belt, Tristan leant back on the bed and snapped his button loose. He was just peeling the pants open when he felt a tug at both his ankles. Looking up, he met Gabriel’s amused gaze. Gabriel winked and yanked Tristan’s pants with such force that they came down halfway around his hips. Tristan lifted his ass and legs off the mattress so that Gabriel’s next tug pulled them all the way off. The jeans joined the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed, and Gabriel dropped onto the mattress on all fours, looking every ounce a feral tomcat as he prowled across it. Tristan’s teeth sunk into his lower lip, as he observed the fine man his brother had become. While their faces were almost exactly the same, their bodies revealed signs of two different lifestyles. Gabriel’s shoulder tattoo stood out in sharp relief against his deep golden skin. It seemed to be shifting as the sun rolled with the motion of his shoulder blade.

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Tristan’s frame was sparer—not skinny, but as finely muscled as a prime racing horse. And he was a stallion. One look between his legs revealed a long, thick cock, bobbing with each motion of his narrow hips. Tristan watched Gabriel’s thigh muscles bunch and shift as Gabriel crawled past him, settling amongst the pillows. “Come here.” Gabriel patted the space beside him. Tristan came. Flushing at how he must look trying to appear as sexy as Gabriel, Tristan tried to cover himself with a corner of sheet. Gabriel, of course, batted his hand away. “No, I want to see everything.” It wasn’t that Tristan was ashamed of his body. He was blessed with a healthy metabolism, and before all the trouble had started with his career, he’d enjoyed jogging four days a week, as well as occasionally lifting weights. He’d just always felt self-conscious about his sex appeal. When Tristan looked down at his body he didn’t see a tool of lust, just a practical fit form, a vessel he existed in and took care of. His brother’s eyes belied his beliefs. Gabriel trailed the backs of his fingers over Gabriel’s shoulder and down his arm, eliciting a shiver throughout Tristan’s body. “Beautiful.” Tristan started to shake his head. Guys weren’t beautiful. Women were beautiful. Gabriel leaned into Tristan’s personal space, breathed across his lips. “Yes, you are.” Staring at Gabriel’s lips, mere inches from his, Tristan nodded, willing to agree with anything if Gabriel would kiss him again. Gabriel gave him his wish, pressing their lips together with a moan, luring them down to the mattress and pillows as he licked his way inside Tristan’s mouth. Tristan wrapped his arms around his twin, sliding the flat of his palm over the silky, warm skin of Gabriel’s back and greedily drinking in his twin with his mouth. Gabriel shifted until his hips were nestled between Tristan’s thighs. Their erections slid against each other, silky and hard as iron, exchanging tears of need. Gabriel thrust, one powerful move that simulated what he could do if he were inside Tristan. Tristan rocked back, moaning into the kiss as his brother joined him in the rhythmic moving of their hips. It was only enough for the moment, and they both knew it. Gabriel abandoned Tristan’s mouth for his throat, drawing up marks of ownership with fierce suction. Tristan gasped for air like a drowning man, hands sliding into Gabriel’s golden hair, holding on as Gabriel

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stroked his abs, his quivering belly. The heel of Gabriel’s hand brushed the wet tip of Tristan’s cock. Tristan’s hips followed, lips parting on a sigh as that hand obediently closed around him, stroking firmly to the tip, thumb sliding over his wet slit. “Mine,” Gabriel whispered raggedly, dragging his lips over Tristan’s collarbone. The flat of Gabriel’s tongue trailed down to Tristan’s nipple, ringing around the rigid tip. “Tell me, Tristan. When you watched those videos did you think about me doing these things to you? Hmm?” Tristan felt his cheeks flame, as lurid, detailed pictures flickered behind his tightly clenched eyelids. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t confess that Gabriel had replaced many of the faces he’d seen. “Tris?” his brother whispered, before closing his lips around Tristan’s nipple, tormenting the bit of flesh with hungry flicks of his tongue. Crying out at the stabbing, shooting pleasure that arrowed from his nipple straight to his groin, Tristan parted his lips and tried to speak beyond his clogged throat. When Gabriel finally released the tormented flesh it was to shift down Tristan’s body. Tristan was forced to release his twin’s hair. Gabriel’s lips skimmed over Tristan’s flat abdomen about the same time his hand tightened around the base of Tristan’s cock. Which was a good thing, considering how close Tristan was to coming. He only needed a small push to put him over the edge. Gabriel kept talking, apparently determined to see Tristan to his end. “What else did you see, Tris?” Not waiting for a response, Gabriel gave his own answer, “I know you must have seen guys fucking.” Lips ghosted over the jut of Tristan’s hipbone. Gabriel’s hand slid behind Tristan’s left knee, lifting, spreading. A hot tongue slid over the sensitive hidden patch of skin where hip melded with thigh. Tristan whimpered. “I know you must have seen guys sucking cock. Did it make you think of us? Did it make you think of when I woke you up on the bus? I like sucking your cock.” Gabriel’s chin nudged said cock. Tristan felt himself twitch, his hips rose of their own accord, begging for attention.

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“I like having you fill my mouth.” A teasing flick from Gabriel’s tongue, stroked the mushroom-shaped head of Tristan’s cock. Tristan could feel himself leaking, an entreaty to finish him off, to put him out of his misery. He could almost imagine the clear fluid dribbling over his cockhead, wetting Gabriel’s fingers. Tristan started to tremble. Gabriel groaned. “Love the way you taste and shiver for me, baby.” So saying, he lapped Tristan from base to tip, sucking lightly, still teasing. When his mouth and hand fell away, Tristan whimpered. No! But Gabriel’s attention was somewhere else. Hands lifted and spread him, left him vulnerably open. Gabriel could see everything now. Everything. And no one had ever seen everything of Tristan before. He didn’t know how to feel about it. His cheeks flushed furiously. Finding his voice he said, “Gabe…I…” “Tell me, Tris,” Gabriel voice was a hoarse, thick with lust, “did you think of me when you watched those videos. Did you think of having me inside you, filling you up, coming inside your body?” “Oh, God.” Tristan’s stomach gave a violent flip. His ass clenched, mortifying him with the hungry action. Gabriel didn’t even give him warning. The next thing Tristan knew, he felt the wet, raspy drag of a tongue over his most forbidden entrance. He’d seen this on the videos, but reality was nothing like what he imagined. It made him twist. It made him ache. It made him beg as Gabriel tormented him with steady flicks of his tongue. It’s wrong, a tiny corner of his brain screamed. The rest of him didn’t care. The rest of him wanted more, wanted something deeper. Like always, Gabriel seemed to know his mind before he did. His brother pushed right into him, making the world stop for a split second. “Uh. Oh, Gabe…” Tristan swallowed, his throat was getting sore from straining. The tight ring of muscles fluttered, and he felt himself clench and release around the small invasion. His hips rocked, an instinctive motion that gave him more sensation. But it wasn’t enough. Gabriel had asked Tristan if he’d imagined them doing all the things he’d seen on the computer. He had. He wanted. He needed. Now. “Please.”

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With a kiss to the inside of Tristan’s thigh, Gabriel lifted his gaze. His pupils were blown wide with desire. “Please, what?” Tristan shook his head. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” He was given a cat-that-got-the canary grin. A wet lick, landed near his balls. “Yeah, I am.” Fine. “I want you inside me. I want to feel—” In a flash, Gabriel moved up the bed. He stretched, retrieving something from his nightstand. Then he was sliding back down. A cap snicked open. The sound of it pitched doubt and a bit of fear in Tristan’s mind. He pushed it down. There was nothing to fear here. He needn’t feel inadequate. Gabriel had shown him that he was more than enough.

Okay, the shaking had to stop. Gabriel couldn’t get the damn slick on his hands. He was so eager. So damn eager, he couldn’t think straight. That hot, tight clasp he’d felt with his tongue was about to surround his cock. Tristan was about to let him in. If this was a dream, Gabriel didn’t want a wakeup call. He finally got his fingers coated with lube. They were still shaking, but he figured he could deal. Tristan had closed his legs halfway, still self-conscious. Gabriel didn’t blame him. It wasn’t easy being this vulnerable, this open. He admired his brother’s courage. Gently, he urged Tristan into his former position. Sensing his twin’s apprehension, he stroked soothingly down the lean legs. He wrapped his dry hand around Tristan’s cock, mostly to draw Tristan’s attention elsewhere, but also because he loved the feel of it in his hands, heavy, hard, pulsing with life. Gabriel couldn’t resist swiping his tongue over Tristan’s sac either, delighting in his balls drawing up even tighter. One finger rimmed the tight clench of muscle, coaxing, gentling. Gabriel sucked Tristan’s sac, lapped it with his tongue as he pushed for entrance. His brother sighed. Tristan’s inner muscles clenched down, hot, tight, forbidding him entrance. Lifting his head, Gabriel said, “Try and relax, Tris. Breathe and push out. That’s the way, baby.” His finger made progress. The silky heat inside was enough to make him gasp. He’d had sex with a handful of guys in his lifetime. Gabriel had never been the one-night fling type of guy, but his partners were always experienced. He’d certainly never taken the

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time to open them up so slowly, never savoured the feeling of a man’s body gloving him— not like this. One finger became two, two became three. All the while, Gabriel coached Tristan through it, expressing how good Tristan felt around him. He found that when he was blunt, when he told Tristan that he couldn’t wait to feel his ass clenching around his cock, Tristan started to loosen up. His body budded like a flower, enveloping Gabriel with hungry enthusiasm. So Gabriel kept up the talk, detailing how he was going to take Tristan: Slow at first then harder and faster. By the time Tristan was ready, Gabriel was so worked up by his own words and Tristan’s response, he worried that he wouldn’t last a minute inside Tristan. Tristan was panting, a fine sheen of sweat layered his body. His limbs trembled, as Gabriel ordered him on his knees. “It’s easier this way.” A few fumbled attempts had a condom gloving Gabriel’s cock. After applying lube to his rigid length, he kneeled behind his twin and bent to kiss the small of his back before moving closer. One hand slid between them, guiding the tip of his cock to where he wanted to be more than anything. There was resistance at first, but Gabriel, exercising more restraint than he ever had, kept the pressure slow and steady. He started to shake with the force he used to hold back. The head of his cock breached the tight ring of muscles. Both of them cried out, shock and need and desperation making the air thick between them. “Oh, fuck. So tight.” Gabriel’s flexed his hips, unable not to. Tristan cried out beneath him. Gabriel couldn’t decipher the noise as pain or pleasure. He hoped it was pleasure. Prayed it was pleasure, because he didn’t know that he could stop. Didn’t know that he could force himself not to drive deeper. His hands came up to rest on Tristan’s hips, sliding down over the smooth skin, seeking to soothe. “You okay, Tris?” “Yeah. Yeah. More please,” Tristan gasped out. He pushed back into Gabriel’s groin. The breath punched out of Gabriel’s lungs as he watched himself disappearing inside his brother. “It’s big. Full, Gabe. So full of you.”

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Gabriel nodded, falling forward, catching himself on the palms of his hands while laying his head against Tristan’s back. “Yeah, babe. I feel you all around me. Burn me alive, Tris.” And he was. A terrible ache had begun at the base of Gabriel’s spine. A mad urge to thrust seized him. “C-can’t. Please.” He didn’t know what he was begging for, didn’t really care as he pulled out until just the tip of his cock remained, then sunk back into heaven to the hilt. Tristan keened beneath him, and this time Gabriel heard the pleasure. Felt it shaking, and clutching around him. He lifted his upper body off Tristan, placing the bulk of his weight on his knees. His hands framed Tristan’s hips, holding him steady so that he could watch himself being devoured over and over again. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen, watching his cock disappearing into that tight little hole. Knowing it was Tristan made it all the more wild. Gabriel shifted his angle, testing, searching. “Gabriel!” Ah, found it. He pounded that spot, wanting Tristan to feel him down to his bones. Losing himself to the rhythm and tight consuming heat, Gabriel lost count of each fluid thrust. He only heard the cries of pleasure from his twin, the accompanying music to the pounding of his own heart roaring in his ears. He lasted longer than he’d thought he would, hanging on with the pure determination that this moment would etch itself in his memory for all time. It was Tristan’s release that sent Gabriel shooting into the stars. The tight clench of his brother’s body triggered his orgasm, dragging a shout from his throat as heat sprayed into the tip of the condom. Tristan’s cries faded mere seconds before his own. Gabriel collapsed to the mattress feeling weightless and drained. After a few moments of rest in which the brothers were mellow, waiting for breathing to return to normal, Gabriel managed to summon enough energy to get up to dispose of the condom and grab two washcloths. He returned to the bed, nudging Tristan onto his back so that he could clean his spent cock. Tristan only stirred to moan as his sensitive cock was handled. Gabriel worked quickly then bent down and kissed Tristan’s belly before tossing the washcloth in the hamper and getting himself cleaned up.

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Returning to the bed, Gabriel found his twin asleep at an odd angle. He didn’t try and wake him. Instead he crawled into bed, laying at the same awkward angle, and pulled the sheets up to their hips. He aligned his body with his brother’s and threw an arm around Tristan’s waist. He fell asleep, twirling a piece of his brother’s hair around his finger.

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Chapter Eight

Oh. Oh, ache. Tristan shifted, stretched and extended one arm to feel beside him for Gabriel. His fingers met with cool sheets. He blinked his eyes open to confirm what he had felt. The bed was empty. Tristan sat up, gasping at the tender, warm feel in his backside. His cheeks flushed furiously as he remembered just what had caused the ache. Reaching up, he pushed a hand through his hair and yawned. Morning light spilled in from a slit in the curtain, painting a bright stripe of yellow over the blue sheets. A door creaked open to his right. Gabriel strolled in, looking like sex on two legs, wearing a pair of sweats and a towel around his neck. His hair was damp. He must have taken a shower. He gave Tristan a wide smile and sultry eyes. “Mornin’.” “Hey.” Shyly Tristan ducked his head and looked around the room for his boxers. “I tossed them in the wash with my stuff. Should be ready for the dryer in a minute,” Gabriel supplied. “How are you feeling?” He approached the bed, using the towel to blot his hair. Officially, Tristan was going to die from heatstroke—his cheeks were burning so hot. “I’m okay,” he said in a voice barely loud enough to be heard. Gabriel chuckled, leant down to caress Tristan’s calf through the sheets. “Still shy after all we did last night?” Nodding, he said, “I can’t seem to think of anything else at the moment.” He told the simple truth. The brothers might have lied for the sake of one another to other people but never between them. Last night had been incredible. He’d never dreamed any of this could happen with Gabriel. At least, not the extent that it had happened last night. His cock gave a twitch, clearly in agreement with the rest of him. Such pleasure should be a sin. Actually, it probably was. Gabriel’s soft laughter chased his wandering thoughts back to reality. He plopped down on the end of the bed. “I thought about it, too, in the shower, several times.”

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Now, it was Tristan’s turn to laugh. He gathered the sheets to him and started tugging them around his waist as he scooted to the edge of the bed. “You are a character,” he said, standing with the sheet wrapped around his waist, keeping him modest. A hungry glint flashed through Gabriel’s eyes as they roved up and down Tristan’s body. Tristan shivered but walked forward, heading for the bathroom connected to Gabriel’s bedroom. He stumbled, losing his grip on the sheet all of a sudden, even though he was still walking forward. Tristan ended up walking right out of it. Forgetting his nudity for a moment, Tristan whirled around and glared accusingly at Gabriel. His twin showed no signs of remorse. His eyes were wide, shining with feigned ignorance. “What?” Glancing down at the floor, Tristan couldn’t fail to notice Gabriel’s bare foot resting on the sheets that had trailed behind him. “You did that on purpose.” When his brother grinned, an answering smile twitched at his own lips. “I did?” Those pale blue eyes slid from Tristan’s chest, over his cobblestone abs, to the neat triangle of curls surrounding his rigid shaft “Only because I thought you might need help with that.” Watching Gabriel’s tongue peek out to lick across his bottom lip, Tristan was seized by a wicked notion. It was easy to fall back into the teasing that had been a part of their lives before Gabriel had left home—only this time the teasing was definitely less innocent. Before he could talk himself out of it, Tristan reached between his legs and gripped the hard length of his cock. A bolt of pleasure arced through his core and had him biting back a moan at the contact. The thick column of his cock, jerked eagerly in his hands, weeping tears of need as he stared down at his brother. Gabriel looked positively entranced by the sight of Tristan gripping himself. Tristan was equally enthralled by the hungry look on Gabriel’s face. Some devilish spirit he hadn’t known existed inside him wanted to see how far he could push. Very deliberately, he started to stroke himself. Pleasure swelled in his groin and weighed heavily in his balls. It wouldn’t be long before he came, and all because Gabriel looked at him like he was an oasis in the Sahara desert. “You think you could do anything for me that I can’t do for myself?” he challenged.

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Gabriel couldn’t believe the daring of his usually reserved brother. He didn’t know what had overtaken Tristan, but he liked it—so much in fact that his cock swelled to near painful hardness within the soft cotton of his sweatpants. His mouth fell open. There were words he wanted to use, things he meant to say. He’d always been good at teasing. He could give as good as he got, but his quick wit deserted him in the face of this sultry satyr. Gabriel watched his twin stroke his cock, watched the slow glide of his fist working up and down an iron-hard rod with covetous eyes. He watched the way Tristan’s balls drew up tight, a sign that his climax grew closer. He heard Tristan’s breathy pants, spilling from between parted lips. Tristan’s tongue flicked out to moisten them. Gabriel moaned. Tristan’s eyes flared. “Gabe,” he whimpered. Gabriel slid off the bed, down on his knees. He beckoned with his hand. Tristan didn’t hesitate to come to him. The teasing was over. Tristan stopped a few inches away, hand still clutching his cock, the flushed tip saturated in clear desire. With a groan, Gabriel lifted his arms, cupped the hard muscles, and round perfection of Tristan’s ass, urging his hips forward, urging that pretty cock towards his hungry mouth. Tristan’s hand fell away, leaving his shaft vulnerable. A soft gasp morphed into a moan and ended on a cry as Gabriel licked his crown. Tristan’s pre-cum was barely bitter at all, more sweet than anything. Gabriel rolled the flavour around on his tongue, lapped for more. Tristan keened for him, hips pushing sweetly forward. Begging. He curled his fingers in Gabriel’s hair, sifting, gentling him. “Gabe, please. I need.” Gabriel knew. He needed just as much. Fingers flirting with the velvety smooth skin between Tristan’s buttocks, Gabriel coaxed his twin even closer, licking his way down the steely hard shaft, swallowing until Tristan touched the back of his throat. He hummed, thrilling at the shivers that racked Tristan’s body. “Gabe, please. Gonna! Oh, oh… Ah!” Tristan cried out. Gabriel felt muscles flex beneath his hand. Tristan’s hips snapped forward as the cock in Gabriel’s mouth contracted. Warm, wetness splashed the back of his throat. He pulled off halfway so he could savour the taste. Gabriel sucked gently before letting Tristan slide from between his lips. He leant forward, resting his cheek on Tristan’s flat belly. The hands in his hair continued to pet him.

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Gabriel hugged Tristan’s legs, turning his head to press a kiss just below his twin’s belly button. “I love you.” “I love you too, Gabe.” Gabriel’s heart gave a lurch, contentment filling him for the first time in years. Even if his cock was still throbbing demandingly, he refused to give up this one quiet moment. This peace. Feeling Tristan pulling away, Gabriel reluctantly unwrapped his arms from around him. Tristan surprised him by reaching down and taking his hand, urging him to stand. Once he was on his feet, his twin pulled him in for a kiss. The kiss was lazy, sweet, a gentle duelling of mouths and tongues where no one really wanted to win. Gabriel shivered as Tristan broke away, raining stinging kisses along his throat, sucking at his pulse with hungry suction. “Tell me what to do,” Tristan whispered a bit shakily. “Tell me how to please you.” Then Tristan sank down, kneeling. Unsteady hands found the lip of Gabriel’s sweatpants and tugged them down, spilling out his hard cock into Tristan’s eager hands. Gabriel groaned, fighting to hold still, to reign in some semblance of control. He wouldn’t have asked Tristan for this, not yet. His twin had only just experienced what sex could be between them. Perhaps this was too fast, Tristan feeling obligated to return the favour. “You…you don’t have to, Tris.” Though it would nearly kill him to walk away, he would. Their relationship was still too new, too fragile to corrupt it by being too greedy. Tristan’s hands might have been shaking when they’d pulled down Gabriel’s sweats, but the warm hand that surrounded his turgid length gripped him with assurance. Tristan looked up at him, a flush of arousal or shyness—Gabriel couldn’t tell which—staining his cheeks. The look in Tristan’s eyes wasn’t nearly as hard to read. Lust. Love. Pure want. “I know you wouldn’t ask, Gabe,” Tristan said. “I want it. I want to know everything about you.” The hand around Gabriel squeezed lightly and almost brought him down to his knees. He nodded, feeling that place in the mind where rational thought dwelled slowly shrinking as raw need took hold. “Just do what you can remember me doing to you. But don’t try to take all of me now. That takes practice.”

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Nodding, Tristan was already halfway to his goal before Gabriel stopped talking. The first tentative lick sent a shockwave of delight rippling up Gabriel’s spine. He clenched his fists at his side, afraid that if he laced his hands in Tristan’s hair he’d urge him to take more than he was ready for. He soon found out there was no need to urge. Tristan hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wanted to know all of Gabriel. That untutored mouth proceeded to wreak havoc on Gabriel’s control. What Tristan lacked in skill, he made up for in enthusiasm. That soft tongue felt like it was everywhere at once, and when Tristan pulled him into the wet warmth of his mouth, Gabriel’s hands flew to his shoulders. He needed stability when his knees turned to water. Tristan sucked him gently, reverently. It was torture. It was madness. It was sublime. “Tris!” Gabe cried out his brother’s name in warning. Tristan hummed, an action he’d learnt from Gabriel no doubt. Still, Gabriel had to be sure his brother knew what he was in for. Even though it nearly killed him to do it, he threaded the fingers of his right hand in Tristan’s tousled hair and urged his brother away from his cock. Gabriel’s cock was let go with a wet popping sound, he groaned seeing the wet tip bobbing woefully. A chill from the lost of warmth suddenly hit him, raising goose bumps along his skin. Gabriel waited for those familiar baby-blues to look up at him. “I’m going to come, Tris. Unless you want a mouthful you have to back off now.” In answer, Tristan shook off his grip and surged back down on his cock, taking him as far as he could go. That did it. Gabriel lost the power to hold back. It was like pulling the pin out of a grenade. With a cry, he came. The explosion rocked him to the core, and exposed the gaping hole in his soul that only one man would ever be able to fill.

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Chapter Nine

“Hide me.” Tristan almost spit out his soda in his attempt to stifle his laugh. Six foot three, two hundred and some odd pounds of muscle had just asked to be hidden. “From who?” Tristan asked Brogan, already scanning the crowd. Most of the people were dancing, a few lingered at the bar and others hovered around the snack table filling their plates. It was Brogan’s twenty-third birthday party. All the members of Thrice Broken had invited his friends and some of their own. As it turned out, the handsome brunet was becoming just as famous for his good looks and superior build as Thrice Broken was for their music. Brogan was a living icon for the band. Hundreds of people had wanted an invite to his party. Security was tight, so Tristan could only imagine one person with the clearance to get in that Brogan might be hiding from. He grinned as he spotted a dark, curly head inches shorter than most of the grown-ups. Feeling devilish, Tristan lifted his arm in the air and waved. Brogan made a grab for his arm with no success. “Hey, don’t wave him over here! The frowning Micah spotted him and Brogan. A broad grin split his handsome face. The fourteen year old started heading their way. “Chill out. What is it? Eight-thirty? Happy hour starts at nine then anyone younger than twenty-one has to be out of here.” Marilyn had only allowed her brood to drop by for a short while, knowing how much Micah adored Brogan, no doubt. It still amazed Tristan how gracefully Marilyn accepted her youngest son’s sexual orientation. His own parents hadn’t handled Gabriel’s well, and he’d been nearly eighteen. But looking at the bright-eyed, intelligent young man walking towards them with a ribbonwrapped box in hand, Tristan was reminded that Marilyn was no ordinary woman. She was a free spirit and that same attitude was reflected in her sons. Despite the pretence of being annoyed by Tristan outing him, Brogan was ready with a friendly smile as his number-one fan approached. Watching the big man interact with Micah in the weeks since Tristan had known them had exposed a side of Thrice Broken’s bodyguard

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that few ever saw. Really Brogan was a softy at heart. The growls and grumbles were always tamed for Micah’s benefit. Never had he seen Brogan get cross with the boy. He always had time for him and an ear to listen. Tonight was no exception as Micah came to stand beside him. “I just wanted to bring you your birthday present in person.” Micah smiled up at him, a hint of shyness in his flushed cheeks. Brogan accepted the present with a thank you and started to untie the ribbon. Inside was a DVD. Brogan held it up. It was a copy of Underworld: Rise of the Lycans. Tristan snorted. He should have known Brogan’s taste would run to bloody and action-packed. Looping an arm around Micah’s neck, Brogan thanked the fourteen year old and suggested they go tease Kane about getting him a copy first. Tristan watched them go with a fond smile. He was coming to think of the members of Thrice Broken as family. Sampson was like the father of the group, level-headed and intelligent. He took care of things and smoothed over rough edges. Marilyn was the mother, always looking out for everyone and fussing over their health and eating habits. Ty was an annoying but adorable younger brother, and Kane was the family playboy. Gabriel was the brother that everyone loved to be around. He drew people to him with his beautiful smile and easy nature. In fact, Gabriel was surrounded by a group of admirers now. He occupied the dance floor, dividing his attention between two slim brunettes with model-like figures. One girl danced before him and one behind. Tristan’s eyes narrowed. They were both pretty close up on his brother—a little too close. As he watched, the brunette in front placed one well-manicured hand on his brother’s hip. Each time Gabriel shifted, swaying to the beat of the music that hand inched closer and closer to the front of his jeans-clad groin. Just when Tristan thought the woman might grope his brother in public, a pair of pert breasts blocked his view of the threesome. The breasts belonged to petite blonde wearing a bubble-gum-pink tank-top that threatened to spill her voluptuous cleavage. She was dressed in a matching candy-canestriped mini-skirt of chocolate brown and bright pink. Tristan stared up into light green eyes and tried not to be annoyed. The woman really was lovely. A few weeks ago, he might have

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returned her flirtatious stare. A few weeks ago, he might have offered her his arm and taken her back to one of the dozen or so lounging chairs near the closed bar to have a chat. Now all he wanted her to do was move out of his way so he could see what was going on with Gabriel. As soon as that realisation popped into his head, he willed his eyes to focus on the woman in front of him. What am I doing? Acting jealous over a lover I’m not supposed to have? Tristan knew better. No one at Brogan’s party would expect him to show his twin any more than the usual brotherly love. Certainly, he wasn’t supposed to be jealous of him—not unless they were in direct competition for the affections of a woman. If Tristan didn’t get a hold on his emotions, he was going to blow their secret right out of the water. Suppose someone caught him staring one day with a look of jealous rage on his face, or worse…desire? Tristan shook his head and made himself pay attention to the woman’s moving lips. She had spoken, but he’d been so distracted inwardly berating himself that he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. Thankfully, she was gracious enough to repeat herself when Tristan lifted an inquiring brow. “I said are you Gabriel or Tristan?” “Tristan.” “Oh.” Disappointment flickered in her jade eyes before she said, “I’m Bianca. Would you like to dance?” Tristan thought about declining graciously for all of a few seconds. One glance over her shoulder revealed blond-haired Gabriel. The girl in front had now threaded her hands into his tawny mane. Even as he watched, Gabriel gently disengaged her fingers. Tristan forced his eyes back on Bianca. Gabriel was putting up a good front, and he would have to, as well. Even if Bianca had not gotten her first pick, she still presented a body to distract him. And while he had no intention of doing anything more than talking and dancing, Tristan knew, for the sake of their audience and the tabloids that might print about Brogan’s surprise party tomorrow, he had to give a good show. But as he accepted Bianca’s invitation and followed her out on the dance floor, Tristan started second-guessing his decision to be intimate with Gabriel. If he was this bad in the beginning, how would he be a few months from now?

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**** The trouble with dreams is that, eventually, you have to wake up. Three weeks had passed since that life-altering day when Tristan and Gabriel had made love. The first few days had been like making up for lost time. After that, the days had passed by in ecstasy and a dreamlike state of all new lovers. Now though, reality intruded on their lives. Gabriel fought not to think about living in the real world, but Tristan was a realist. “I can’t go with you,” he said, smoothing out a newspaper across his lap. “I need to find a job. I don’t want to keep living off you.” Shaking his head, Gabriel paced back and forth in front of couch like a caged lion. “You’re not living off of me, Tristan. You’re my brother. We look after each other. That’s what we do.” He stopped pacing, looking Tristan in the eyes. “Why won’t you go with me? It’s a small tour. Only four states. The big stuff doesn’t start until this summer.” Tristan looked down at the paper and the potential job he’d circled with a yellow highlighter. “Because we can’t keep going on like this, Gabriel. Someone will find out.” Tristan’s mind flashed back to Brogan’s party and Bianca. Boy, you sure are tethered to your brother, she’d commented, catching Tristan sneaking a glance at Gabriel yet again. “Your band members,” he shuddered to think who else, “and fans.” God, what if it got leaked to the press? Their lives would be over. Done. They’d have to move somewhere where no one knew their names and faces. It would destroy them, destroy Gabriel who was a social butterfly. He, the rational brother, had to be the voice of reason here. “It’s not like I’m leaving you, Gabriel. We just won’t… We just won’t have sex anymore. It’ll be just like old times. We have to start distancing ourselves now. I won’t go with you on this tour, Gabe. I’m sorry.” Gabriel, who had more than enough passion for the both of him, vehemently denied such a claim. “We’ll be discreet. I’ll keep my hands to myself. I promise. No one will ever know.” “It isn’t your hands I’m worried about, Gabriel. And it isn’t just you. I’m sure I can’t control the way I look at you sometimes. If someone saw…” “Don’t do this!” Gabriel fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and stuffed one between his lips.

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Tristan narrowed his eyes. “I thought we’d agreed you’d try to quit.” “Yeah, well, that was before you made this shitty decision without me.” The comment was meant to be flippant, almost a joke. No big deal. But Tristan heard the pain in that voice, it curled around his heart, making him ache. “Gabriel?” His twin snatched the cigarette out and whirled on him. “Don’t! Don’t fuckin’ try to make it easier for me, Tristan. I didn’t ask for this. You think I meant to love you in this way!” He stormed towards the couch, and squatted down in front of Tristan. Gabriel tapped his bare chest. “I can’t control what’s inside me, but it’s Ps and Qs for you. You’re sensible. You love me, but I know you can survive without me. You’ll just cloak yourself in reason, tell yourself that you’re saving me, that you’re doing the right thing. You’ll lie to yourself so much that you’ll forget the truth. But I… I’m not like you. I can’t reason through this, Tris. I can’t lie about how I feel. With you, there is no reason. I’ve loved you since we both drew breath, Tris. If I can’t have you, there is nothing.” Tears streamed down Gabriel’s face, though Tristan would have bet his brother didn’t realise he was crying. Gabriel’s trembling hand lifted to Tristan’s cheek, touched the wetness there. Tristan was crying, too. “You’re stronger than I am,” Gabriel said, softly. “You’ll make it without me, Tris. But I can’t do it without you.” The sound of the phone ringing made Tristan jump. Neither brother moved to answer it, neither of them daring to break eye contact, but when the phone kept ringing well past three and four times, Tristan wiped Gabriel’s cheek and said, “You’d better get that.” Nodding, Gabriel got to his feet and moved quickly across the room to the phone that hung on the wall in the kitchen nook. Gabriel took the cordless off the wall and started walking back towards him. “Hello.” Pause. “Just a minute,” he said, and handed the phone to Tristan. Pressing the phone to his ear, Tristan said, “Hello.” “Stan, oh god. You have to come home!” Tristan frowned and sat upright, “Ma? What’s wrong? What happened?” “It’s your father, Stan. He had a massive heart attack.” Their mother sobbed so hard she barely got the words out. “He’s dead.”

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Tristan nearly dropped the phone. His mouth gaped open, like a fish stranded out of water. “What?” “He’s dead,” his mother wailed. Gabriel frowned, straining to hear, looking at him with eyes that swam with fresh tears. “What is it?” Realising his mouth was still open, Tristan snapped it shut. He bit his tongue, and swore. The news felt like a stomach blow to a body already racked with pain. On top of the fallout he was having with Gabriel, Tristan could barely breathe around the clog in his throat. Mom was still sobbing, and he couldn’t talk. Couldn’t form the words. Didn’t want to hurt Gabriel even more than he already had, though logically, he knew, it was inevitable. Gabriel snatched the phone away. “Mom?” His expression darkened. He never said a word. Tristan could still hear their mother sobbing, sobbing about their father’s death. At least, she didn’t appear concerned about which twin was listening to her. Tristan could almost see the moment his brother got the news. His face changed, became a mask of such incredible shock and hurt it punched a hole right through Tristan’s soul. He knew some part of Gabriel had lived with the secret hope of reconciliation. He knew because he’d shared that hope. But now any chance they’d had was gone. Their father was gone. There was nothing left to them now but regrets. Tristan analyzed this all internally within seconds. That was all it took before Gabriel handed him back the phone and walked away. He didn’t say anything. Nothing at all. Just left Tristan alone, to weep for them both.

**** What should have been a private moment of grief was turned into a very public affair by virtue of Gabriel’s rock star status. The paparazzi wanted pictures, whether it was Gabriel publicly grieving or laughing his head off. It didn’t matter as long as they made a buck and

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got the rumour mills to churn. The fact that Gabriel had his twin brother beside him was just icing on the cake. Emails poured into Thrice Broken’s web address. Fan’s drowned their mailboxes in condolence gifts. Even travelling was strenuous, with all the well-wishers showing up at the airport. Brogan was severely pissed that the information of the travel was leaked out, but those types of things were expected. No one ever knew how the fans found out but find out they did. At least there are no camera flashes, Gabriel thought, walking between his brother and security guard Jules Norton. The fans had been respectful enough not to use the opportunity to ask for pictures or take them. Dressed in all black, Gabriel and his entourage moved through the airport like a flock of crows. While waiting for their flight, Tristan managed to talk Brogan into accompanying him to a coffee stand though he returned with hot cocoa in his cups. Like Gabriel, Tristan didn’t have a taste for coffee. “Thanks,” Gabriel said, accepting the cup with a grateful nod. Tristan sat down beside him, close enough that their arms touched. Gabriel sighed deeply, feeling oddly numb. He hadn’t felt anything since two days ago. It had taken him that long to get his affairs in order and arrange for a brief hiatus from the band, travel and lodging before he travelled across the country. He hadn’t been home in years, and this wasn’t under the best circumstances. Gabriel didn’t know how to feel. Things were falling apart between him and Tristan, and his father, the man who had never seemed to love anyone more than he loved his ornery nature, was dead. Their mother hadn’t even known she’d spoken to her eldest son. All her calls were directed at Tristan, or Stan as she called him. He thought he should feel hurt, bitter or angry. But none of those emotions would come to him. Tristan had taken something out of him with his rejection. Perhaps it was the ability to feel. Their flight was called. The flight attendants were expecting the twins and their guards to board early to avoid the masses. Gabriel followed where he was led, barely acknowledging the move from the terminal to the plane, sitting at a window seat next to Tristan, or listening to the flight attendant begin her well-practised speech.

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The engines rumbled to life, the plane started to manoeuvre down the runway, and in moments, they were in the sky. Gabriel held his hot-chocolate which had long gone cold and stared out at the clouds flying by. His eyes drifted shut as the first spasm of pain speared through his body. He didn’t want to feel. But he would. The trouble with dreams is that, eventually, you have to wake up.

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Chapter Ten

The outside of the house wasn’t what Gabriel remembered. It used to be white, or offwhite, because the siding had been old and dingy. Now the new siding was the blue of a robin’s egg. He hated it instantly. The bright new colour did not reflect the memories he had here. Gabriel hesitated on his way up the steps. Brogan, Mitch, and Jules waited outside dutifully, ready to respond to any type of physical harm that came his way. There was nothing they could do to stop what was hurting him now though. Tristan walked in front of him but turned around when Gabriel stopped. Without saying a word, Tristan held out his hand, seeming to know what Gabriel needed without words: The strength to go on, to face the past, and possibly look into the face of the woman who’d born him but didn’t love him at all. He took that hand, more grateful than he could say, and followed his brother, his strength, through the door. Inside was what he remembered, and with every step, Gabriel felt like the rock star was stripped away until there was nothing but the frightened young man he had been. Nothing had changed inside, not the hideous, flowered wallpaper, dark wood furniture or ancient coffee-coloured carpet. The house even smelled the same, like Pine-Sol and tobacco. “How could you have stayed here?” Gabriel didn’t realise he had said the thought aloud until Tristan answered. “I don’t know.” Tristan led him through to the den, where family members and friends nibbled on finger-food, cried nosily into tissues and hovered around a tiny little woman with greystreaked blonde curls that sat in a LaZBoy, their father’s LaZBoy. Samantha Stalling looked older than her forty-nine years. Gabriel couldn’t even recall seeing the first strands of grey in her hair when he’d left seven years ago or the lines that now bracketed her eyes and mouth. Worry lines. Frown lines. Her shoulders were hunched,

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like something in her stomach hurt and she was trying to protect against a blow hitting that area. Her nose and eyes were red from crying. The hand holding a tissue in her lap trembled. Always wanting to please, a trait she had passed on to Tristan, Samantha was dressed behind the times, in a polka-dotted dress that came well past her knees, a cream-sweater better suited for a ninety-two year old and plain black, low-heel shoes. Her clothes were the ones her husband had approved of. Gabriel wondered if she’d dare to change now that he was gone. She looked up about the same time that everyone else spotted Gabriel and Tristan standing in the middle of the den. Samantha’s face showed surprise then relief. She got to her feet, ignoring the helping hands that tried to aide her. Samantha Stalling came to her son. The only one she claimed. How his mother knew the difference between him and his brother, especially after Tristan’s makeover, Gabriel couldn’t say. Mothers always seemed to have that intuition in the face of their children. Samantha certainly didn’t hug him. She fell into Tristan’s arms and cried like her heart was broken. Each sob, echoed inside Gabriel’s chest, hurtful, loud—like nails on a chalkboard. Other members of the family, Gabriel’s aunts, Wendy and Susan, and his cousin Keith looked on him with sympathy. It was Aunt Susan who moved forward to embrace him. She murmured into his ear. “We’re happy to have you home, Gabriel.” We? Indeed.

**** The dinner table was quiet except for the sound of forks scraping against plates. Tristan’s two aunts had tried to stir up conversation, but other than Keith and Uncle Bradford, no one seemed inclined to join in. For his part, Tristan didn’t know what to say. Sadness and anger built up inside him until it threatened to spill over. He’d known their mother had disapproved of Gabriel’s lifestyle, but he hadn’t expected her to be so indifferent to her first born. Her acknowledgement of Gabriel had been strained and awkward, quickly over as she’d moved into the kitchen to fuss over dinner.

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When Gabriel had tried to approach her, wanting to broach the subject of helping pay the funeral expenses, he had been rebuffed rudely. We don’t need your money, Gabriel. We’ve done without you all these years without a dime. And your father has insurance. And that had been the end of that. She spoke of their father as if he were alive, saying ‘we’ instead of I and ‘has’ instead of had, but worse still, she spoke to Gabriel as if he wasn’t worth the time of day. Tristan didn’t want to have hard feelings towards his mother, whom he loved more than anything after his twin, but a seed of dislike begin germinating inside him, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He’d always thought that Samantha Stalling was a weak-willed woman, ruled by the dictates of her husband, but he was starting to see that many of her choices were her own. Looking at his brother seated across the table between his aunt and cousin, Tristan could clearly see pain etched in the lines of his face. It was hurting Gabriel to be here, and that, in turn, hurt him as well. It was Keith’s cheerful tone that broke the thick silence. “So, Gabriel, how is the rock star life? Must be tons of fun having all those fan girls screaming for you?” Uncle Bradford promptly choked on a piece of broccoli, and Aunt Susan knocked over her glass of iced tea, causing his other aunt, who sat directly across from her on Tristan’s right, to yelp as the liquid spilled into her lap. Her chair screeched back on the hard-wood floor, obscenely loud in the silence that followed. Keith, at the naïve age of sixteen, looked bewildered as he glanced from one family member to the next with the trademark pale blue eyes that ran on both sides of the family. “What? Did I say something wrong?” “Eat your food, son,” Uncle Bradford said, picking up his glass of water and taking a hearty sip. “It’s okay, Keith,” Gabriel said. “It is fun having adoring fans. Though the girls don’t particularly interest me.” Tristan felt his stomach plummet, and his limbs stiffen as he waited for the other shoe to drop. In that moment, he wanted Gabriel to be honest yet lie at the same time. “I’m gay.” “Oh.” The word seemed punched out of Keith’s lungs on a sigh.

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Samantha’s fork clattered noisily to her half-empty plate. She balled up a napkin in her fist. “I will not have such talk at the dinner table.” Gabriel turned to look down the table at their mother who sat where she always sat: opposite their father. “Then where should we discuss this, Mother? In the kitchen? At the neighbours? In the—” “Gabriel.” Tristan hadn’t known he’d call his brother until his name slipped from his lips. The look Gabriel cast him cut Tristan to the quick. It was the look of a malnourished dog, one who has been betrayed by the person who swore to love and protect him. He was hurt, and he wanted to hurt someone in return, but he stilled loved. He still loved their mother, perhaps more fiercely than Tristan ever had. Tossing down her napkin, their mother excused herself from the table, collected her plate and stormed into the kitchen. Gabriel got up just as abruptly but left his uneaten food where it was. Aunt Susan who sat next to him didn’t try to stop him. Tristan was half way out of his chair when he felt a tug on his sleeve. It was Aunt Wendy. She smiled gently at him as if she could physically inject a bit of cheer into the chaos unfurling all around them. “Let him be, hon. They need to talk.” Shaking his head, Tristan pushed back his chair and stood. He knew instinctively that where he was needed most was in the kitchen. He was Gabriel’s strength as Gabriel was his. “He needs me,” he told his aunt. She let him go after that.

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Chapter Eleven

Ugly. Bitter. Gut-twisting words had poured from the mouth of the woman who had given him life. Gabriel had hurled hurtful things back, just to cut her as deeply as she did him. Their conversation had ended with him being led away by Tristan and Uncle Bradford. Mom was left to the comfort of sisters, huddled at the kitchen table crying and yelling for him to get out and stay out. Gabriel looked up at the sky, dark with clouds that threatened to rain. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he said to no one and anyone. “Aren’t parents supposed to love their children unconditionally?” The last was a question his heart had pondered for many years. He was alone after storming off without so much as a cell phone. Not one fan would have dared to approach him tonight, and the tabloids would have a field day if they could capture the composed, handsome, multi-talented Gabriel Stalling marching down the sidewalk of his childhood home looking half-wild and utterly afraid. He wandered on, not sure where he was going, hands stuffed deep into pockets. His head hurt, but his heart even more so. Gabriel wanted Tristan, needed his calm strength, the warmth of his arms. Tristan just to be there. But pride wouldn’t let him turn back. Fear wouldn’t give him the courage he needed to return home. It was over. Done. He had no business here. He’d come to bury his father and had buried the rest of his dream spun wishes with him. Nothing had changed. The rain came next. Sheets of it soaked him to the bone in seconds. Shivering, he plodded on until he came to a park. Memories clung here, like cobwebs in corners. He spotted the familiar faded whiteand red swings. They were only made to hold children. He didn’t sit but headed for the

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monkey-bars. He could almost imagine him and Tristan playing there. Tristan had always been afraid to let go and hang loose. But I might fall, he’d say. I’ll catch you, Gabriel had once replied. Tristan had been swinging ever since. Using the ladder on the side of the monkey-bars, Gabriel propelled his adult frame to the top. The bars weren’t exactly comfortable to sit on and the rungs were slippery with rain, but he didn’t care at all. He welcomed the discomfort. He wanted the biting pain, wanted his outsides to match his insides. To his right was the jungle gym. Gabriel had once fallen on the rickety plastic bridge. Kids being kids, they’d all run and climbed over him, uncaring that a seven-year-old boy was crying over a little cut on his elbow. Tristan had been the only one to hunker down and ask what was wrong. He’d angrily pushed the next kid clean off the bridge into the sand when the boy had tried to shove past them. “Can’t you see my brother’s hurt?” he’d yelled. Well, they’d both gotten spankings for being mean to the kid. It didn’t seem to matter though because they had each other to comfort afterward. When had this thing started? When had his love of Tristan for simple companionship changed to more? Gabriel had no clue. It wasn’t something he’d planned, and it didn’t appear to be something he could control. No, control was Tristan’s gig. Everything Gabriel lacked, Tristan had in spades and vice versa. But brothers, even twin brothers, couldn’t solve all the world’s problems. Couldn’t kiss away all the scrapes that came along in life and teach you to let go. Letting go was something Gabriel had to be strong enough to do on his own.

**** Some rumours about twins were true. Tristan had certainly always had a sixth sense about his brother that let him know his moods, even how close or how far in distance they were from each other. He hadn’t meant to sleep, but somehow, he’d managed to doze off, propped up in bed with Gabriel’s cell phone in hand.

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When he awoke, it was because he felt his brother. When his eyes peeled open, Gabriel was there, wet, shivering, face half-concealed by shadow and half-revealed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. Words sometimes were inadequate, and none were needed now. He just knew that Gabriel needed him, like a sieve to pour all his worry, fear and pain into. Tristan placed the phone on the nightstand and opened his arms. Gabriel fell upon him like an incubus. Nothing about this coupling would be gentle. Tristan felt that in their kiss, a mating of lips and tongues, and bites interspersed as if Gabriel would devour him. Hands clawed at Tristan’s shirt, ripping when it wouldn’t give. Tristan tugged and rolled with Gabriel across the queen-sized bed, wrestling his clothes away. Gabriel didn’t seem to have enough hands, enough limbs to suit him for touching. His nails dragged and marked Tristan’s skin as if he could absorb him through the pads of his fingers. Harsh, panting breaths fanned warm clouds of air between them. Jeans, underwear, and the ragged remains of shirts formed scattered piles on the floor. “I need you,” Gabriel growled in Tristan’s ear. Tristan nodded, rolling onto his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment, trying to ground himself, to catch his breath. He listened to the nightstand drawer open and shut. A cap snicked open on a bottle of lube, a foil wrapper was ripped. Snatching up a pillow, Tristan shoved it under his groin, elevating his ass. Gabriel half covered him. Teeth and lips stung Tristan’s shoulder. “Tris, please.” Gabriel’s voice was almost a sob, as he probed between Tristan’s buttocks with his lube-coated fingers, finding the tightly furled nether hole. He pushed in. One brief swipe was over much too quickly. Tristan tried to be ready, but his heart raced and muscles clenched. He was too new to this to come undone. Gabriel had the presence of mind to use slick, but he didn’t have the patience to wait. The initial invasion hurt like hell. Tristan bit his knuckle, fed the pained sound into his own skin. He wouldn’t give his pain to Gabriel. His brother had enough already.

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Gabriel gave him everything. Each pound, each thrust, felt like he was making an emotional tunnel straight to Tristan’s heart. Tristan embraced the pain, rode it, until pleasure bloomed in his barely tried passage as it became used to the thick length and fierce thrusts. The lubricant made it more bearable than it would have been. The pain dialled down to a deep throb, and soon Gabriel’s cock was ramming into a place inside him that made fireworks crackle behind his eyelids. “Love you, Tris. Mine. Please. Say it.” Gabriel’s hands fluttered around Tristan until they found his. Fingers interlocked, Gabriel lay full length against Tristan’s back, the penetration less powerful but somehow, more deep. “Yours, Gabe. I swear it. Always yours.” “Mine.” Gabriel went perfectly still, seated to the hilt, letting Tristan feel how full he was, how deeply they were connected. When Gabriel laid his cheek against Tristan’s, every part of them from Gabriel’s front to his back was touching. A few drops of rain water landed on Tristan’s cheek, rolling in ticklish paths to the tip of his nose. He didn’t unclasp his brother’s hand to wipe it away. He just closed his eyes and let it be. He shuddered at the heat emanating from his twin’s body, and the wicked pleasure of the cock buried deep inside him. Tristan couldn’t suppress the whimper that passed his lips. His hips rose, begging Gabriel to move. Gabriel didn’t move, but he did begin to recite words that sounded like a prayer in a voice that wrung trembles from every part of Tristan’s soul. This place you dwell inside of me, Nowhere on Earth I’d rather be, In splendid hope you reside with me, You are my high, come fly with me. Tristan raised his head, and Gabriel let him, lifting up onto his elbows so Tristan could twist around and look him in the eyes. “When did you write that?” Tristan asked, with no little awe to his voice.

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“I didn’t. It just came to me.” Gabriel gave him a shy smile. “Do you like it? I was always better with words than actions, Tris. I just want you to know how much I care about you. That this thing between us is more than just misplaced lust. I didn’t…I don’t want to take my anger out on you. I just needed…I needed— ” It was an odd angle, but Tristan made it work for the few seconds it took to lean up and kiss Gabriel’s parted lips. “I know.” Gabriel was hurting and he only knew one person who could make it better. The thought made Tristan’s insides flip with part joy and part fear. It was a heavy burden to mean so much to one person. He knew in that moment that he had the power to destroy Gabriel, utterly, completely—to wipe that wonderful smile, mesmerising voice, and charismatic rock star from the face of the planet by turning his back on him. Tristan had come dangerously close to it twice. He wasn’t going to make that same mistake again. “I know,” he repeated, then shifted his hips, drawing moans from both their throats at the delicious friction. “Make love to me.” Tristan didn’t recognise the needy voice as his own. Gabriel moaned, pressing heated lips into the side of Tristan’s neck at the same time that he slowly withdrew. Tristan gasped as each exquisite inch left him, only to come back again. Sensation popped and sizzled down his spine, deep in his groin, to his tailbone as Gabriel thrust back in, filling him up, utterly, completely. The words drifted softly to his ears this time, punctuated by ragged breathing, and hot tuffs of air sliding against his throat. “This place you dwell inside me.” Gabriel nuzzled Tristan’s ear, pulling his lobe into the heated contours of his mouth to be gently suckled as he drew out and pushed, agonisingly slow, back in. “Nowhere on Earth I’d rather be.” Tristan squeezed Gabriel with his inner muscles, trying to keep him in as he inevitably had to leave. Gabriel’s voice hitched on the next words. “In splendid hope…you reside with me.” Rotating his hips until he found the spot he wanted, Gabriel ground into him, drawing a cry from Tristan’s lips. Tristan’s blunt nails bit into Gabriel’s fingers. “You are my high.” Freeing one hand to reach up and frame Tristan’s chin with his fingers, he urged Tristan to turn his head back at an angle. Gabriel strained up, nibbling and

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licking at the corner of his mouth. “Come fly with me.” Gabriel nailed that spot again, breath stuttering out of parted lips. “Fly with me.” Gabriel let go with a harsh cry, spasms transferring into Tristan’s lean frame as he released much more than cum inside Tristan. Gabriel’s orgasm and words dragged Tristan along for the ride. Like a match put to a wick, Tristan went up in flames.

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Chapter Twelve

As Gabriel stood at the last resting place of Joe Stallings and watched the glossy silvergrey coffin on its way to being lowered into the ground, he felt he should feel something more than this empty blankness for the man who had given him life. It was like all his ability to feel had been poured into Tristan the night before. He’d gorged himself on his twin, and now, at least for the moment, there wasn’t any room for anyone else. Even for a man about to be put six feet under. Joe Stalling had never been an ideal father, even before he knew his oldest boy was gay, but he’d taken care of Gabriel all the same. He’d put food on the table and clothes on his back for seventeen years. And now he was no more. If there was sorrow, Gabriel would have to dig deep down to find it. If there was anger, or regret, even relief, well, he’d have to dig for that, too. Tristan’s arm brushed against his own, a silent acknowledgement that he was there, that he was a comforting shoulder to cry on. But when Gabriel looked at his brother, he saw that his twin was shedding enough silent tears for the both of him. Gabriel squeezed his arm, reminding Tristan that he was there for him, too. Their mother approached, a small figure dressed all in black, being ushered by a small contingency of well-wishers as if old age and heartache had sapped her strength and she needed the dozens of hands that flocked around her to remain upright. She carried a single red rose in her black-gloved hand. Gabriel watched it tremble before she placed it on top of the coffin. In time, once he’d made peace with the way things were between him and his mother, he knew he’d feel sorry for her. Despite all her foibles—and God knew Gabriel had a dozen of his own—Samantha had loved their father. Of that, there could be no doubt, and while the old man was gone, she still had a life to live, albeit a lonely one. Samantha had severed the ties to her closest blood: Gabriel, because she couldn’t understand that not all matters of love were personal choices, and ultimately Tristan, too, because he could not stay for the very same reason.

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Gabriel didn’t have to ask where Tristan would be going in the morning. Knowing his brother would stick by his side gave Gabriel the peace of mind he’d been missing. Samantha was the last to place her rose on the coffin and say her goodbyes. Before she turned away she looked up at her boys. Her eyes grew slightly round as she stared from one face to the other. “Tristan?” she gasped, clearly confused about which one was which, a thing that had never happened before. Gabriel was stunned into immobility. Sure, they were dressed in the same black suits and white shirts—as were most of the men in attendance—but Gabriel’s hair was longer, pulled back into a ponytail but definitely longer. Yet, in that moment, Samantha failed to differentiate between the two of them. Perhaps it was her grief that had her confused or the fact that her eyes were blurry from crying. “Mom?” they both said, in two voices that melded into one. Samantha took a step back, stepping onto Uncle Bradford’s foot. He caught her shoulders, preventing her from doing more damage with her heel. “Sam…” Uncle Bradford started. Murmuring something to her, he drew her away from the coffin. Gabriel turned to his brother, looking him over as if he expected to find something had changed. He couldn’t see anything physically different with his brother. “Nothing? You?” In that odd moment of understanding, without ever being asked the full question, Tristan shrugged. “No.” Nothing had changed. But Gabriel had a sudden revelation of what might have confused their mother. Neither brother had ever been so in tune with each other. Sure, they had recognised each other’s moods, but Gabriel had always been the wild child and Tristan the steadfast son. Since their reunion, each brother had absorbed from the other what he lacked. While Gabriel remained calm and collected in the face of their father’s passing, it was Tristan who stood with dried tears on his cheeks. Gabriel and Tristan had never been more alike than that moment in time.

****

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Tristan knocked and stepped back from the door, tucking his hands deep into his pockets. He’d come alone to the place he’d been born to say his goodbyes. Everyone had agreed that it would be better if Gabriel stayed away. Some problems could be mended but certainly not the rift between mother and son, not when one party wasn’t willing to see reason. Tristan was supposed to say the goodbyes for the two of them. The door creaked open, and Tristan found himself looking into the familiar blue eyes of his mother. Her lips tilted up in a strained smile, a bit of colour came to her pale cheeks at the sight of him. “Come in. Come in.” Samantha stood aside and held the door for him. “Tristan?” she said carefully, warily. “Yes, mom. It’s me.” Some of the tension in her shoulders seemed to ease, and she shut the door behind him. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen. I’ve just put coffee on. Would you like some?” Tristan trailed her into the outdated, yellow-and-green kitchen. Here, old memories lingered like shadows. He glanced at the table where he and Gabriel used to eat as kids. Tristan had always finished his meals first, especially when it was cauliflower. Gabriel hated cauliflower, but Mom or Dad would make him sit at the table until he ate it—which usually lasted a few hours. Sometimes, Gabriel had stubbornly refused to eat his vegetables until it was time to go to bed. “Stan?” Samantha took down two mugs. He turned to look at her. “Mom, I don’t drink coffee. You know that.” “Oh.” Clearly, she’d forgotten. She touched the side of her temple as if it ached there, as if the source of her pain was the reason for her forgetfulness. “Are you okay, Ma?” “Yes. I’m fine, Stan.” Tristan pulled out a chair and sat at the table. Not because he needed a seat to break the news, but because she would probably be the one who needed it most. “Can we talk then?” “Your aunt and uncle left early this morning. They caught the Amtrak back to Scarsdale—” “Mom?”

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“Aunt Susan’s flight left last night. She had to get back to—” “Mom? What are you doing?” Samantha took up the coffee-filled carafe and started filling her mug. “I don’t want to talk about it! I don’t!” “What mom? You don’t want to talk about what?” “You’re leaving!” Samantha turned eyes glistening with tears in his direction. “You’re going back with Gabriel. I know it. I can see it in your eyes. He’s turned you against me.” Standing, Tristan shook his head, spreading his hands out in a placating gesture. “Mom, no one has turned me against you. I still love you. Gabriel loves you.” “Do you?” Tristan did not miss that she completely ignored any mention of Gabriel. “If you loved me then you’d stay with me. I don’t have anyone with your dad gone, Stan. I’ll be all alone if you go halfway across the country.” Tristan reached his mother’s side, touched her delicate shoulder. “Mom, you won’t lose us, I promise. I’ll be back for visits.” “No, you won’t.” Samantha’s voice broke on a sob. She turned and wrapped her arms around her youngest son, laying her head against his chest, above his heart. “No, you won’t, Tristan. If you leave, I won’t see you again. Stay here. Please, stay here with me. I’m—I’m afraid to be by myself.” Tristan laid his hand over his mother’s greying head and gently stroked down the riotous curls, curls neither he nor Gabriel had inherited. He closed his eyes, feeling his heart contract with pain at the idea of leaving his mother by herself. But his heart felt even more burdened at the thought of abandoning Gabriel. He’d done it once before at the behest of his parents. His mother’s pretty tears and his father’s anger had kept the twins divided for seven years. And while Tristan knew these might very well be sincere fears on his mother’s part, he also knew that Samantha wanted him home for her own selfish reasons. And if she could not accept all of Tristan, which included his brother, who was more necessary to him than breathing, then perhaps she did not deserve any part of him. After all, what was one half a soul, but damned?

****

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The grace period had ended as far as the paparazzi were concerned. Camera flashes went off, microphones and recording equipment jostled about in a sea of strangers as journalists and news reporters tried to catch his attention. “Just a few words, Mr. Stalling?” “How are you coping?” “Are your still going to do the charity concert next week?” “Where is your brother?” These questions were hurtled at him amongst the roar of fans and bodyguards. A popular country singer and admitted fan of Thrice Broken by the name of Ronald Reed had lent out his private jet for the band’s use, his contribution to help ease their burden in their darkest hour. But now that jet was fuelled up and ready to go. Their scheduled time for takeoff had come and gone. The crowds were swelling, and the guards were getting frustrated with keeping the population under control. Just the sight of Gabriel Stalling only a few feet away was kicking up a fuss, and people were determined to get their questions asked and their pictures taken. Where is your brother? That’s exactly what Gabriel wanted to know. His stomach was a ball of anxious knots. Was Tristan being bombarded by the paparazzi as he attempted to make it through the terminal? Was he stuck in traffic? Or worse, not coming at all? Why hadn’t he called? Gabriel had rung his mother’s number several times and gotten only the answering machine. Tristan’s cell phone had gone directly to voicemail. Brogan appeared at Gabriel’s shoulder, and lightly touched his arm. Leaning down, the big man said into his ear, “We have to go, Gabriel. This entire situation is getting out of hand.” “Ten more minutes,” he pleaded. “I gave you twenty already. Ronald’s pilot has a schedule to keep too, you know.” Gabriel nodded. Yes, he knew. And he had responsibilities to his band. He was needed back in California by early tomorrow morning. Damn! “Yeah, let’s go.” Gabriel managed to drag his gaze away from the crowd and follow Brogan out on the tarmac to meet the jet. It was the second hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. He kept telling himself that Tristan would come. He couldn’t afford to think of what it meant if Tristan didn’t.

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**** Tristan slammed his fist down on the steering wheel in frustration. His mother, seated in the passenger seat in his dad’s old Ford, jumped visibly at the action. He glanced her way. “Sorry, it’s just that this traffic is at a crawl.” He shook the cell phone in his fist. “And I can’t get a damn signal in these trees.” “What time is your flight?” Samantha asked calmly, a little too calmly to suit his foul mood. “It was an hour ago. Gabriel probably left.” “You mean he didn’t wait for you?” It could have just been his mood, but there seemed to be an accusatory lilt to her voice. “He can’t wait forever, Mom. He needs to be back in L.A. to meet up with the band tomorrow.” And Gabriel wouldn’t have had to wait if his mother hadn’t insisted Tristan take the shortcut to the airport, which turned out to be under extensive construction. Merging traffic was backed up for a good mile or so. Damn it. He almost believed she’d done it on purpose. He hated to think she would do something so petty. Knowing what conclusions Gabriel might jump to tore at his heart. No phone call, no show. Gabriel would think he’d changed his mind and decided to stay with their mom. Gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, Tristan forced himself to relax. There wasn’t anything he could do about it at the moment. He had to stay focused on the road and the creeping flow of traffic. He’d arrange for a second flight out if he had to. He just had to be patient. A small smile quirked his lips as he thought of his brother’s influence on him. Gabriel used to be the impatient one.

**** “How are you holding up?” Marilyn’s comforting voice drifted to Gabriel through his Bluetooth. “I could smoke a whole carton of cigarettes right about now,” he half joked. “I’m sorry about your father,” she said, for probably the billionth time. “Me and the rest of the band really wanted to be there.”

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“We needed to keep some of the heat off me and here in L.A.” Gabriel and his brother hadn’t been the only one’s hunted by the paparazzi after his father’s death. “Yeah, but at least one of us could have gone.” “You didn’t miss anything. Perhaps I shouldn’t have gone myself.” Marilyn made a disagreeable sound on the phone. “Don’t say that. He was your father.” “I know.” Gabriel sighed, running a hand over his face. “I don’t mean it. I just…” He flexed his fingers, longing for something he could not touch. “You miss Tristan.” “Yes. It’s stupid. We haven’t been apart that long.” “He’s your soul mate.” “Yes…what? What did you say?” Gabriel sat up, heart thundering against his ribcage. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts and scenarios. How had she found out? Who else knew? How bad was the damage? “Relax, Gabriel, I’m not going to call a press conference. And no one but Brogan and I know it. I know because I’m a mother. I know how brothers interact around each other. Lest you forget, I have Micah and Zeddie. You two don’t behave like my sons. Almost, but not quite. Took me some time to figure you out, too. I wasn’t exactly certain until I heard your reaction just now.” Gabriel fell back against the backseat of the Jeep he rode in with a sigh. “So you’re saying I just gave myself away.” “Yes,” Brogan said from the front seat where he was driving. Thankfully, there was no one else in the Jeep but them. “And how did you know?” he asked, scared and hopeful at the same time. “Close observation. No one’s around you guys more than me. Remember that.” Gabriel nodded, chancing a glance at Brogan’s face in the rear-view mirror. He could only really see Brogan’s eyes and the bridge of his nose. Neither gave away what he was feeling. “Well?” “Well, what?” Brogan’s dark gaze flicked to him. “Look, so as long as you keep signing the cheques and listening to me on matters that concern your security, I mind my own business,” Brogan answered him in a light tone that said he wasn’t overly distressed by the revelation.

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In his ear, Marilyn said, “I cannot tell you who to love, Gabriel. I know you’re a good man. Yes, your love is unconventional, and a lot of people won’t understand or agree with it. It’s not something we can go public with, but I’m not exactly a conventional girl if you haven’t noticed. And… If you love Tristan enough to lead a double life, then that’s the only thing that matters.” Light-headed with relief, Gabriel nodded, realised neither of his friends could see him then said, “Thank you. I don’t know what else to say.” “Just tell me you’ll get out of the business one day, Gabriel. Love can survive in the shadows for a while, but it can’t flourish there.” “I will.” Thrice Broken was only the tip of the iceberg. All of the members knew it wasn’t meant to last forever, but while it lasted, they all intended to have a blast. Gabriel knew he wouldn’t regret its end, not when it meant a beginning for him and Tristan. But right now, he needed a light at the end of his tunnel. He needed to know that Tristan was coming to L.A.

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Chapter Thirteen

The next connecting flight to L.A. didn’t depart until early the next morning, and even then, Tristan faced at least three hours in Houston. He bought a ticket and a bottle of water before he went to find himself a seat. Thankfully, he’d remembered to bring a ball cap and shades. His attempt to remain low-key appeared to be working, as only a few people at the airport spared him a second glance. Deciding to try and contact Gabriel again, he pulled out his cell phone, checked to make sure he had a signal and dialled the number. He got the answering service on the first ring which meant Gabriel was the one with no service now or his phone had died. Sighing, Tristan flipped his phone closed and tucked it back into his pants’ pocket. Uncapping the bottle of water, he took a hearty sip and eyed the list of Arriving and Departing flights, wishing his flight wasn’t squarely at the bottom.

**** Several exhausting hours later, Tristan hefted his tote bag out of the taxi and waved to the driver. “Take care,” the young red-headed driver called to him before he slammed the door shut. Turning around, Tristan smiled to see the tall, concrete building and the friendly doorman who stood under the burgundy awning. “Hello, Steve.” Tristan started walking towards him when a splash of colour caught his eye. A slim arm slid around his waist, embracing him in a hug he was ill-prepared for. What the hell? Tristan peered down into a smiling face that didn’t match the unfriendly look in Mark’s eyes. He was just about to open his mouth, to demand what was going on, when something hard nudged him in the back. Mark’s smile widened. “I bet you can guess what that is,” he nudged Tristan again, harder than the first time. “We’re going inside, you and me, and letting in my guests through

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the back.” Raising his voice to be heard by Steve, he said, “Man, I’ve missed you. How was your trip?” The gun dug into Tristan’s back until he stuttered, “F-fine.” Mark nodded. “Sure I’d love to come upstairs for a minute. We have a lot to talk about.”

**** Something was wrong. Gabriel felt the disturbance like a twinge in the pit of his stomach. It woke him from a nightmare he didn’t care to remember. Bluish-grey light filtered in from his closed blinds. Disoriented, he had no idea if it were early morning or turning night. Sitting up in bed, Gabriel realised he held something in his fist. He unclenched his hand to reveal his slim, black cell phone. Flipping it open, he immediately tried to check for messages or missed calls, but when the screen remained blank, he knew his phone had died. Shit! What if Tristan had been trying to get in contact with him? Snapping on a bedside lamp, Gabriel went searching for his charger. Thunk! Gabriel’s head swivelled towards his bedroom door. “Tristan?” His heart, already beating harder than usual from the eerie feeling he’d awoken with, went into a fast gallop at the answering groan of pain. “Tristan!” Gabriel headed for the door at a dead run. What he found in his living room turned his blood to ice in his veins. Tristan was kneeling in the middle of the bluish-grey carpet, his head was bowed, his shoulders squared with defiance, but his head was tilted. Tilted because Gabriel’s ex-lover, Mark, held a gun to Tristan’s right temple. Mark wasn’t alone. As Gabriel watched, two other guys shook out large garbage bags they’d collected from under his sink and started tossing his possessions inside. The men were dressed in all black and wore ski masks. One of them paused and nudged the other when he spotted Gabriel. “That’s the rock star.” His companion chuckled. “Mark wasn’t full of shit, after all.”

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Gabriel ignored them, turning narrowed eyes back to Mark and his brother. “Mark, what the fuck are you doing?” Mark gave him an ugly smile. “Same thing you did for me. Screwing you over.” “You can have whatever the fuck you want, just take that gun off my brother.” “Uh-uh, this here is a little collateral. Don’t want you to do anything stupid. Sides, I’m enjoying watching you sweat.” Mark scratched his temple, and his smile widened. “Tell me something? Is there anything else more important to you than your brother, Gabriel?” Gabriel swallowed, afraid to answer. Fuck, he was afraid to breathe. His stomach was in knots, his hands and feet felt like lodestones. This was an entirely surreal situation. Dimly, he was aware that he was in shock, at least part of him was. The other part had started to burn with a slow fury the moment he’d come into the living room and seen Mark with the gun to Tristan’s head. One of the men walked past Gabriel and headed towards the other rooms of his house. “Just gonna do a little tour, Mr. Rock Star.” Gabriel didn’t care what he took. They could have taken the entire house, and he wouldn’t have cared. The only thing he cared about kneeled at Mark’s feet. “Answer me!” Mark’s face contorted with an unnatural rage Gabriel immediately identified as madness. He’d seen men in Mark’s condition a time or two. You didn’t snort and shoot up everything under the sun for years and turn out fine and dandy. Gabriel had thought he’d gotten rid of Mark before it was too late, apparently not. Something clicked in the heavy silence. Gabriel flinched. Tristan did, too. Mark had cocked the gun. “Do you care about him more than you care about yourself?” “Yes.” The moment he said it and saw the gleam in Mark’s eyes, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. “Good. Good. Makes it easier to decide which one of you to kill first.” “No. Wait!” Gabriel lunged forward but was brought up short by a warning nod from Mark. “Please. This is between me and you. Don’t…don’t involve Tristan. He’s got nothing to do with this.” “He’s got everything to do with this. You think I don’t know why you broke it off between me and you. I’d see you up late at night pouring over articles on the internet or

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watching the news for any information that surrounded his court case. And I knew. I could tell you were going to end things between us.” Gabriel frowned. “But you said you had no idea I had a brother.” “No, I said, you never told me about him. You never did talk about him, Gabriel, but I knew he existed. I knew there was another man out there who had the same face and the same DNA as you.” “So you realised it wasn’t me that day you walked into the house and only Tristan was here?” “No, I knew you had a twin, but I thought that he was you that day. Until I saw you, of course. That did surprise me. I came back because I had to be sure it was over between us. It was driving me insane, you know, missing you.” More like your were missing the easy drug hook-ups, but Gabriel would bite off his tongue before he said that aloud and provoked Mark’s anger. Once his ex started talking, it seemed like he had a lot to get off his chest. “It hurt like hell, when you broke it off between us. You just cut me off. You wouldn’t even see me anymore, hear me out! We had it good between us, didn’t we?” “Mark, all we had between us was a lie.” “It was not a lie. I loved you.” Shock rippled through Gabriel, at the conviction of those words. “And you hurt me, and all I want to do is hurt you back. And this is the way.” He nudged the gun so hard into Tristan’s temple he flinched. “This is the way to hurt you as deeply as you hurt me.” A pained smile quirked his lips then. “I told you you’d get yours, Gabriel.” In the next moment, Tristan squeezed his eye shut, his body visibly tensed, preparing for the inevitable. He didn’t cry, didn’t beg for his life, perhaps realising he couldn’t bargain with a lunatic—a man who was still very likely hyped up on crack-cocaine. Mark’s mouth drew down into a grim, determined line as he took a step back. His finger tightened on the trigger. Three shots rang out. Actually, it sounded more like three pings since the gun had a silencer on it.

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Gabriel’s breathing stuttered to a halt. His stomach revolted, at once violently ill, but he swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat. He blinked. Mark went down like a sack of oats. He fell on top of Tristan, and Tristan wildly thrashed beneath him, rolling him off. Tristan sat up, touching the blood in his hair and on his shirt like he couldn’t believe it was real. The air punched out of Gabriel’s lungs with relief, but it was short lived as he gazed across the room at the masked man and the silencer. A crooked grin flashed from the cut-out mouthpiece on the mask. “Can’t trust anyone these days, Mr. Stalling.” At that moment, his partner came back into the living room, with a distorted bag full of Gabriel’s paraphernalia. He took one glance at Mark’s unmoving form, and he smiled, too. “Two way split.” “You know it.” Tucking the silencer away, the first man said, “Let’s get the fuck outta here.” Nodding his agreement, thief number two headed for the door at his heels. The moment the door slammed closed behind the two thieves, Gabriel lost his battle with fear and the physical revulsion of Mark’s untimely death, as well as the threat Mark had presented to Tristan. Falling to his hands and knees, Gabriel threw up. Something touched Gabriel’s cheek. He looked up. Tristan was kneeling, looking down at him. His eyes were wide, feverishly bright. Fear, shock, relief, Gabriel couldn’t tell what emotion won the battle for supremacy in Tristan’s expression. Gabriel reached for him, an instinctive clasp for an anchor in a world that had just been knocked off its axis. Tristan’s hand met his, one brief squeeze for assurance. Then Tristan tugged him away from the mess he’d made on the floor, into a fierce hug. He imagined his bones creaked, Tristan had clasped him so tightly. Gabriel hugged him just as fiercely, burying his face in the side of his brother’s neck, sucking in great gulps of air laced with his scent, his essence. Tristan was alive. Tears squeezed out of the corners of Gabriel’s eyes and his shoulders shook. Tristan stroked his hair, comforting him, even though he’d been the one, who’d only moments ago, had a gun to his head.

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Gabriel wanted to be strong, wanted to be the one offering comfort, but he couldn’t find it within himself to pull out of the hug, to be anywhere but sobbing in Tristan’s arms. The relief was so profound he found it hard to breathe. He stayed where he was. Even when his knees began to ache, he stayed where he was. Tristan was the one to begin to pick up the pieces. Wrapping his arm around Gabriel’s waist, his twin started to draw them to their feet. Every muscle in Gabriel’s body shook, vibrating with tense, restless energy. He shook his head. “No.” “Come on, Gabe. I have to call the police, get somebody down here. I’m not leaving you in here alone.” Gabriel leaned back, looking into the concerned face of his brother. Tristan looked like he’d aged a decade. He looked tired. He looked like he’d been to battle. Blood stained his shirt, spots of it in various amounts were speckled from the right side of his forehead all the way down to his chin. An anguished moan trembled on Gabriel’s lips. He reached up, trying to wipe the blood away with his fingers but only managed to smear it. Tristan seemed oblivious to the blood. “Come on, man, you’ve got to stand up.” He tugged Gabriel. This time there was purpose behind his grip, determination in those fingers. His frown was fierce, but his eyes were gentle. Gabriel got halfway to his feet, before his knees began to buckle. He clutched at Tristan. His empty stomach rolled. “I’ll fall,” he said desperately, wanting nothing more than to be let down on the carpet, to curl up in a ball with all his aches and pains and hurts and focus on not crying. He was damn sick of crying. Damn sick of hurting. Lips brushed across his forehead. Tristan didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled him to his feet. “I’ll catch you, Gabriel,” he said. I’ll catch you.

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Chapter Fourteen

Mark’s gun had been full of blanks. The detective who’d come by several times during the course of the following week told him so. Even with blanks, at such close a range, the bullet could have still caused major damage to Tristan. Whether Mark had known he had blanks in the gun and had just wanted to play some sick joke or whether the two men he’d had with him had taken out the live shots was something the detective couldn’t tell the twins. So far there were no leads on who the men were. The only witness they might have had was scheduled for a trip to his final resting place tomorrow. The fact that only Mark knew the two men’s identities supported the detective’s theory about why he’d been killed. When Tristan had opened the emergency exit at the back of the apartment building, the men had already been masked. “Only one who got to see their faces was Mark,” Detective Harrison had said. “Guess they didn’t trust him not to rat them out when he got caught.” It was clear that the two men were much smarter than Mark had been, using him like a pawn to gain entrance into Gabriel’s apartment. They’d made off with over four thousand dollars in clothes and merchandise. Two days after the robbery some of Gabriel’s personal items had showed up on eBay. But any leads to who’d owned the items only turned up people who’d bought the items second-hand from an unknown source. “Mighty generous of you to bury him,” Detective Harrison said. Standing in Gabriel’s living room, the burly blond rocked back on his heels. Gabriel twirled an unlit cigarette like a mini-baton between his slender fingers. He wasn’t going to smoke it, but the movement and the smell of tobacco gave him comfort. “If I hadn’t, he would have been cremated and put God knows where.” Besides it had been the right thing to do. Without the drugs Mark had been a decent human being. Gabriel had caught glimpses of that good spirit during their time together. It had been what drew him to Mark in the first place. Paying for his funeral expenses and a

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coffin was the least he could do. Gabriel wouldn’t be showing up for the small ceremony. He’d brushed by death too close six days ago to want to visit that place again. The detective cleared his throat and shuffled in place. When Gabriel looked up, he was staring back with a tinge of colour to his cheeks. “Hey, listen, my daughter would kill me if I came back without your autograph. I know this isn’t the best of times to—” Gabriel nodded. “It’s all right.” “You sure?” But Detective Harrison was already pulling out a copy of Thrice Broken’s CD from his coat pocket. “Thanks so much, Mr. Stalling. This will mean so much to Nancy.” Nodding, Gabriel accepted the pen and CD. He opened the case and slipped out the cover then signed his name and jotted down a personal note to Nancy, thanking her for her support. Putting the CD case back together, he handed it back to Detective Harrison, who thanked him several more times before concluding his visit. “I’ll be in touch,” he promised. Gabriel nodded robotically, but his mind was already a million miles away. He’d been toying with the cigarette so long that if finally snapped in two. He got up to toss it in the garbage can then returned to his seat on the couch. He’d opened up the blinds so he could stare out at the foggy gloom of the city below. His apartment was quiet, aside from the methodical tick of a wall-clock, which suited him just fine. The only thing that was missing was Tristan. Tristan had been by Gabriel’s side every minute of every day in the past week, but his brother had pulled himself together before Gabriel had. Ever practical, Tristan was still concerned with getting a job so that he could pull his own weight. Recognising his brother’s need for space and fresh air, Gabriel hadn’t argued when Tristan had set up an interview for a potential accounting job for a modest business. Gabriel had no idea how long he’d sat on the couch, thinking, staring out into the grey gloom until it faded into night, but eventually, he heard keys rattling, and the door to his apartment creaked open. Tristan stood in the doorway, illuminated by the light in the hallway behind him. The interior of Gabriel’s apartment was dark. Gabriel hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights. He didn’t want to see the spot where Mark had died. The carpet had been cut away where his

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blood had soaked in, but it hadn’t been replaced yet, and it sat there like a ghastly mortal wound. He heard his twin sigh as he closed the door behind him. Moments later, a lamp near the entrance snicked on. Gabriel blinked against the sudden brightness and turned his head away. He sensed Tristan moving around behind him but didn’t turn to see what he might be doing. The couch dipped beside Gabriel as it took Tristan’s weight. He expected Tristan to say something, but his brother remained quiet for several minutes, offering nothing more than his solid companionship. It was Gabriel who breeched the silence. “How did it go?” “The job’s mine if I want it.” “And?” “I want it.” “Congratulations then.” “That’s it? You’re not angry?” Gabriel pushed a hand through his hair, deciding he needed a cut. It was starting to flow over his shoulders. One pass over his jaw revealed beard stubble. He needed a shave, too. “Should I be?” “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Tristan asked, startling him with the earnest plea in his voice. “ Only weeks ago, you were arguing with me about not finding a job. “ “Things change.” Bad luck always came to Gabriel in threes. First when his father had died, then it was the rejection of Mommy Dearest, and now, his ex-lover had been murdered in cold blood. Gabriel would kill for a cigarette. Damn me for quitting cold turkey. I should have gotten the patch or some nicotine gum. “You’re shutting me out again,” Tristan accused. Gabriel turned abruptly to look at his brother, feeling the rising tide of anger and sorrow swelling in his chest. He’d had everything under control, he’d found his calm then Tristan had to come along and stirred it all up again. “Again? When did I—” “When Dad died!” Tristan exploded. “You shut me out, and I let you. I waited for you to decide to let me in again, to talk about it but you never did. Now, right when we were

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beginning to depend on each other again you do this. You wall yourself off both physically and emotionally from me.” Gabriel wanted to protest, to rail his denials at Tristan, but he couldn’t do it yet. Tristan wasn’t halfway done. “You can’t sit inside this apartment and rot, Gabriel. You’ve got people depending on you. They need you, and they love you, and you’ve got to pull yourself together.” Easy to for him to say. The concept was simple, but the execution—not so much. How was a man supposed to recover from this much hurt at one time? It hadn’t been Gabriel who’d been mortally wounded, but he felt like he should have been. It had to hurt less than this twisting anger and confusion inside his heart. Everything around him was going to hell. He’d lost so much in the span of days. And some secret, terrified, vulnerable little piece of his soul was deathly afraid he’d lose Tristan next. From a rational point of view, he should have realised he was pushing Tristan away, separating himself from the potential pain of his brother’s loss. Whether Tristan got tired of him and his hectic lifestyle and up and walked away or Tristan left him by more permanent means, Gabriel knew his life wouldn’t be worth a damn thing. That confrontation with Mark had driven home just how fragile life could be, just how close he’d come to losing Tristan. So yes, he’d walled himself off. Gabriel was so tired of dealing that it made him physically ill. The pain was just too much to let it flow. So he wouldn’t let it. It was easier to feel nothing at all. Tristan would never understand. They might have been comprised of the same DNA, but they were so very unalike anywhere else, except in those rare moments where they managed to be of one accord. And damn it, this wasn’t one of those times. It wasn’t until Tristan reared up onto his knees on the couch and cupped Gabriel’s face in both hands that Gabriel realised he’d retreated into his own little world. Whatever else Tristan had been saying, Gabriel hadn’t heard. Tristan’s fingers pressed into Gabriel’s cheekbones hard enough that he knew he’d hold an imprint for hours to come. “Do you trust me, Gabe?” Tristan whispered fiercely. Gabriel slowly nodded. “Yes.” “Then let me in.” “I c-can’t.”

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“Then you don’t trust me.” With a sigh, Tristan dropped his hands. He got up from the couch, started to walk away. Gabriel leapt up, heart thudding erratically in his chest. This was it. He was losing Tristan just as he feared, and he didn’t know the first damn thing to do about it. “It’s not that simple!” he shouted, wincing as his voice seemed to echo against the thick walls of his silent apartment. Tristan turned back to him. “Then tell me how complicated it is, Gabe. I’m not a mindreader! Tell me what you need from me.” “I don’t know. God, Tris, don’t make me do this right now. Do you know what it feels like to have this thing inside you?” Gabriel tapped his chest with two fingers. “This pain eating away at you like a cancer? It hurts so bad I feel like I can’t breathe sometimes. And you…you want me to poke at it with a stick, to break it open?” Striding towards Gabriel until he stood toe to toe with him, Tristan nodded. “Yes! I want you to break it open, because it’s poisoning you. That’s the only way to stop a festering wound, Gabriel. You have to let the poison out. You can’t just slap a band-aid on it and pretend it isn’t there. Talk to me. I swear that I’m here for you.” “I wouldn’t know where to start,” Gabriel confessed, rubbing his palm over an ache just over his heart. He felt older than his twenty-five years, much older. Yet, Tristan seemed older still, so much wiser than Gabriel had ever been. “Start here. Now.” Taking his hand, Tristan drew Gabriel down to the couch, and Gabriel let him. For the next hour, he talked. He poured out every fear, every sin, every crumb and corner of his life. All the while, he feared judgement or rejection. He feared that when Tristan saw just how weak and cowardly he was, he’d be disgusted by what his brother had become. But Tristan didn’t judge him. His light blue eyes only gleamed with concern and sympathy. Deep down Gabriel had known that Tristan was a good man and would never laugh or poke fun or even sneer at his shortcomings and fears, but to have Tristan wrap his arms around him while he poured his heart out allayed his worries just the same. It turned out Tristan knew something after all. Letting it all out, talking over the pain of rejection from their mother, his fear of losing Tristan, the guilt of how he’d treated Mark, and the regret of not reconnecting with their father, eased some of the burden on his shoulders.

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Soon they retired to Gabriel’s bedroom and lay side by side, staring up at the ceiling while he talked. As his exhaustion grew, Gabriel started to make less and less sense, and he repeated himself several times, but Tristan never commented on this, never stopped holding his hand. Never stopped listening.

**** Gabriel awoke to darkness. Night had fallen while he’d slept. An immediate irrational panic surged up in his chest, choking off his air supply. The heavy drapes in his bedroom cut off even the most minute light from the outside. He couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. Couldn’t tell if he were alone. Abandoned. “Tris… Tristan!” He groped for his brother in the dark, heart lurching when he felt the cool comforter under his fingertips. The springs groaned as someone moved. “I’m here. Right here.” Tristan caught his flailing hand, brought it to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “I’m here, Gabe.” Sighing, Gabriel allowed his eyes to drift shut momentarily. He’d been reduced to childlike fears in the last few days. The multiple deaths and rejections had taken their toll on his psyche. He sincerely hoped he’d gain his confidence back. Being this vulnerable was annoying and scary. Feeling Tristan’s strong hand in his helped. His twin tugged him across the bed to his side, looped an arm around his waist and snuggled close until their chests pressed together. Gabriel felt Tristan’s steady heartbeat, and it helped calm his own. “I’m sorry,” Gabriel said. “For what?” Tristan’s breath ghosted over his neck as he buried his nose against Gabriel’s sleep-warmed skin. Gabriel shivered despite himself. “Sorry to be such a burden. I didn’t bring you to L.A. to babysit me. I’m the oldest, damn it.” He laughed, but it was hollow. The arm around his waist squeezed. “No, you brought me here so you could take care of me. Ours is a give and take relationship, Gabe. You don’t have to be the strong all the time.”

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“I don’t feel very strong right now.” The words slipped out before he realised he’d said them aloud and not just in his head. “Mmm…” Lips brushed Gabriel’s pulse, and a liquid hot tongue slid over his Adam’s apple. “You feel very strong to me.” “Our definitions must be different.” Gabriel tilted his head, giving Tristan better access as he drew up sucking kisses. “Let’s find out.” Tristan nipped his ear. “I’ll tell you my definition, and you tell me yours. Powerful.” Tristan lifted the arm around his waist and ran it over the thin T-shirt that covered Gabriel’s broad shoulders, down his arm. The hand ran down the muscles of his bicep and forearm. Fingers lightly brushed his wrist, splayed his hands wide open so that Tristan could brush against the calluses that had formed from playing instruments. “Physically vigorous and robust.” The hand slid down to find Gabriel’s hip. The previously submissive man melted in the face of this more aggressive version as Tristan cupped Gabriel’s ass. “It could also mean a great force or effectiveness,” Tristan continued. Nudging Gabriel’s T-shirt down with his chin, Tristan licked over his collarbone with the flat of his tongue, making Gabriel’s rapidly hardening cock jerk. A moan broke from his lips. “And potency.” Tristan shifted to put a little room between their bodies, and Gabriel soon found out why, when a warm hand suddenly cupped his aching hardness. “Of great moral power or…” Tristan squeezed him with just the right amount of pressure, and Gabriel swore he almost came right then. “Firmness.” “W-what are you? A-a walking, talking dictionary,” Gabriel half joked. “I’m the smart one, remember,” Tristan quipped, but all humour was lost when his hand cupped the hard ridge in his jeans and squeezed hard enough to make him moan. “Lose the shirt, Gabriel.” Gabriel swallowed, feeling his nipples tighten to hard, aching peaks. “Okay.”

Whereas Tristan had previously been more than happy to let Gabriel take the lead, he by no means was one-hundred-percent submissive. Tristan recognised a need in his twin to

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give instead of take, which, at the end of the day, was harder than the other way around. To be needy, to be vulnerable and to offer yourself up to the judgement of another took courage. Gabriel needed affirmation that their relationship was not one-sided, that all their couplings had not been spurred on by only his own desire. Tristan could understand feeling terribly vulnerable, for needing such reassurances. After all, he’d been searching for acceptance his entire life. How did that saying go? A man travels the world in search of what he needs and returns home to find it. Gabriel was his home, and Tristan couldn’t wait to prove it. Here in the dark, he needed no light to see what he knew to be there. He knew every beloved inch of his brother’s face, every rugged line of his body, every quirk and every smile. It was somehow more intimate having to depend on other senses than sight. Tristan’s body felt primed for each sound, each movement made in the cocoon of darkness. He heard Gabriel panting, just barely. Ragged puffs of air gave hint to erratic breathing. Tristan splayed a hand over Gabriel’s chest, feeling the wild thump of his heart beneath the thin material of his T-shirt. “Are you scared?” he whispered. “Yes…No.” Gabriel’s answer came out of the darkness. “Don’t be.” Gabriel huffed. “Don’t be scared? Or don’t be not scared?” he tried to joke, but Tristan could hear the strain in his voice. He didn’t answer. Instead, he let his fingers explore what his eyes already knew. Sliding the flat of his palm from over Gabriel’s heart up to his throat, Tristan trailed his fingers up the hot, soft skin of Gabriel’s neck to the slant of his jaw. Stroking his fingers over Gabriel’s jaw, Tristan felt his twin’s beard stubble. He slid his fingers back and forth, enjoying the sandpapery feel for long moments. Gabriel said not a word, soft and compliant beneath his hand. Tristan’s thigh and the side of his torso were touching Gabriel so he felt the slight tremor running through his brother. It reminded him of the soft thrum that ran through an electric wire. Tristan’s fingers encountered the smooth warmth of Gabriel’s full bottom lip. His thumb teased the silky inside, brushed against a slick tongue. Gabriel moaned softly and swept his tongue over the pad of Tristan’s finger. The action made Tristan’s breath catch. He stretched along Gabriel’s length, leaning down until he could feel the warm puffs of air flaring from his brother’s nostrils and out of

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his parted mouth. Tristan licked the circumference of Gabriel’s lower lip, noting the contrast between his lip and the soft, almost fragile inner seal. Gabriel shifted beneath him. Tristan expected to feel his hands on his person, expected that Gabriel’s hands-on nature would prevail against his need to let Tristan take control. He was pleased when several seconds passed and Gabriel did nothing more than tremble a bit harder, obviously fighting for control, to let this moment be about Tristan. Tristan rewarded Gabriel’s patience by delving into his mouth and twining their tongues together. Gabriel joined him in the kiss with hungry enthusiasm. He didn’t try to dominate it, to take control. Gabriel just accepted everything Tristan was willing to give him and begged for more. He begged with his body, twisting and arching into Tristan. He begged with his mouth, with soft, needy whimpers and the slick sparring of his tongue. It fuelled Tristan’s blood. It broke something in him that was quiet and reserved. Rolling Gabriel beneath him, Tristan took half his weight on his left hand. His right knee made a home between Gabriel’s spread legs as he let his twin have the rest of his weight. Gabriel’s hands came up then, gliding down Tristan’s back, soothing, gentling him so that he could think past his own desperate need to possess. It wasn’t until Tristan felt Gabriel fingers sifting gently through his hair that he realised how roughly he clutched Gabriel’s hair in his fist. And it wasn’t until Gabriel’s hand slid down his back that Tristan realised he was nipping, and biting, and downright ravishing his twin’s mouth. He pulled away, wide eyed in the dark, emotion-blind because of it since he couldn’t see Gabriel’s expression. “I…I’m sorry. Sorry. Did I hurt?” “Tris, shh…” Gabriel’s hand wrapped around the back of Tristan’s neck and pulled him down until their breaths mingled. “Just… kiss me.” And he did, welcoming the forgiveness in the pliant body beneath his. Hungry for more, for the fierce heat emanating beneath the thin layer of Gabriel’s clothes, Tristan slid his hands beneath his brother’s shirt. His fingers danced across smooth flesh, counting each slab of muscle as it bunched and twitched beneath his palms. After a few moments of easy exploring, Tristan gathered the ends of Gabriel’s shirt up and ordered him to lift his arms.

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Gabriel obeyed willingly, body rippling when Tristan pressed his lips to one nipple. Flicking the rigid tip with his tongue, Tristan slid his hands up Gabriel’s sides, enjoying the way his twin shook for him. It made him feel powerful, drawing such a strong reaction like this, knowing Gabriel wanted him so much he couldn’t hold still. His brother twisted beneath him, grinding the hard, jeans-ribbed bulge into his own aching cock. Tristan let out a breath through clenched teeth as his cock jerked eagerly, expectantly, behind its own cotton barrier. “Touch me,” Gabriel panted. “Please, Tristan.” Tristan groaned, pressing his nose into Gabriel’s belly, breathing in the warm, spicy musk of his body wash mingled with his own provocative scent. A tiny shiver of awareness worked its way down Tristan’s spine as he rubbed the heated planes of his body along the equally slender musculature of his brother. There was just something about being with Gabriel that went to his head. He might have been new to gay sex, but Tristan was no virgin. He’d enjoyed his fair share of women— had been fond of their softness and curves and soft cries. But there was something to be said for laying with a man your equal in size and strength. He’d been worried just a few moments ago, that he’d been too rough, but now with his lips brushing over Gabriel’s flat stomach, he realised he didn’t have to be so gentle with his hands or worry about conveying his hunger in the bite of his grip. His twin was strong enough to take whatever he could dole out.

It was all Gabriel could do to hold back. Tristan was driving him insane with his slow exploration. Gabriel wanted his twin to wrap his hand around his cock and bring him off, but Tristan seemed content to frame Gabriel’s hips and nibble up his abs. His muscles bunched and jumped when Tristan’s tongue licked over their definition. Pre-cum gathered at his slit as Tristan’s tongue delved into his concave navel. Gabriel moaned, arching his hips, fisting the sheets to keep from tangling his hands in brother’s hair and rushing him. Tristan finally snagged the button and zipper to Gabriel’s jeans, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet as he released the metal teeth. Tucking his thumb into Gabriel’s pants and boxer-briefs, Tristan dragged them both down at the same time.

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Gabriel had expected more teasing or hesitation on Tristan’s part like the first time his brother had given him a blow job. But apparently, his twin had reached the end of his rope as well. The minute Tristan freed Gabriel’s cock from its confines, the mushroom head was met by the wet swipe of Tristan’s tongue. The darkness took away Gabriel’s choice to watch what Tristan was doing, so Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut and gave himself up to sensation. He couldn’t seem to stop the broken moans that poured from his throat as Tristan lapped at him like the sweetest confection. Tristan’s warm breath tickled across Gabriel’s skin as he licked the shaft from root to tip. One warm, possessive hand cupped his sac, gently rolling the vulnerable balls within. Gabriel moaned, restlessly shifting his hips. He fought not to come, but it was hard. In the darkness, without the aid of sight he became hyperaware of every sensation. He felt every nuance of what his twin did. Every swipe of Tristan’s tongue registered like a jolt of lightning to his system. The fingers that petted and manipulated his balls pushed him just that much closer to the edge. Gabriel felt his tentative hold on orgasm slip completely the moment Tristan pushed his mouth down over his cock, sucking greedily, demanding everything he had to give. “Oh, fuck, Tris!” he cried out, losing the battle to keep his hands to himself. He reached down and threaded his fingers through Tristan’s hair. “I’m coming!” he warned, just as orgasm burst over him. Tristan didn’t back off. He swallowed each spurt of cum with an eagerness that made Gabriel’s blood burn anew. Gentling, Gabriel with lavish swipes of his tongue, Tristan finally pulled off. Gabriel could almost hear the smile in Tristan voice as he asked, “How was I?” There was an answering lightness in Gabriel’s heart. “You been practicing when I wasn’t looking, Tris? Was it with Ty? I’m jealous.” Tristan slapped his thigh playfully. “Shut up. I get all my practice right here.” “That’s good to know,” Gabriel chuckled. “And for the record, you don’t have to ask, bro. You blew the top of my fuckin’ head off just now.” “Yeah? You all tuckered out?” Just then Gabriel felt the tip of his brother’s finger, a fleeting caress over his nether hole.

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“No. I want you to fuck me, Tris. You’ll be the first and only one who ever has.” Quiet reigned for several seconds after his confession, and Gabriel worried he’d said the wrong thing. This was the first time Tristan would be pitching and he’d be doing the catching. Gabriel had always known he’d only give that part of himself to the person he loved. He’d never loved anybody or anything like Tristan, and even he and his twin had never crossed that line. Gabriel had known he would save himself forever if need be. By rights, this part of him belonged only to Tristan. There was no way anyone could take his place. When Tristan still didn’t speak, nerves got the better of Gabriel, and he felt sure he’d ruined their intimate moment. “Look, you don’t… I just…” “I want to. More than I want my next breath, Gabe, I want this.” The bed dipped and swayed, and Gabriel listened to the sounds of his brother moving around. A light clicked on, banishing the darkness to the edges of his bedroom. “But I want to be able to see your face when I do.” Gabriel had never been turned on more than when he watched Tristan stroll towards him where he lay on the bed. His twin’s fine body was edged in the bright golden light. He looked like an angelic statue come to life. Before he joined Gabriel amongst the rumpled covers, Tristan picked up lube and a silver foil packet from atop the nightstand. He tossed the items on the bed then joined Gabriel, taking up his former position. With arms bracketing each side of Gabriel’s torso, Tristan leant down to kiss him. “Let’s get these off,” he suggested, tugging the pants that rested around Gabriel’s calves the rest of the way down. He caressed the sensitive patch of skin behind each knee in the process. Gabriel moaned. He’d had no idea how sensual Tristan really was. They made short work of his pants, impatient to lie skin to skin. Limbs entwined, mouths nibbling and tasting in a leisure exploration. Gabriel felt himself getting hard again. The sensitive head of his cock, rubbed up against his brother’s abdomen. Tristan broke the kiss and brushed his lips across Gabriel’s jaw, down to his neck where he licked over his pulse. “Love the taste of you, Gabe. Love the way you smell too.” With a groan Tristan nipped him and slid down, licking and lapping as he plotted a course down the centre of Gabriel’s torso. “Want to taste more of you. Let me know if there is anything I do that you don’t like.”

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Shaking his head, Gabriel bit his lip to keep from emitting anymore girly whimpering sounds. He didn’t think there was anything Tristan could do that he wouldn’t approve of, except for maybe torturing him to death with his oral exploration. It seemed as if Tristan had mapped Gabriel’s body with his hands and now he was intent on doing it all over again with his tongue. Gabriel forgot all about his commitment to be quiet when Tristan grabbed his legs and urged them up towards his chest, splaying him open until Gabriel was keenly aware of what a vulnerable position he was in. He’d performed this very action on his partners before, but being on the other end of it was a different experience. He couldn’t help a flutter of nervousness as he wondered what Tristan must be thinking. “You are beautiful,” Tristan said, in a voice filled with awe. “I can’t…believe… God, you turn me on so much.” Gabriel’s cock leapt, hardening to its full potential. A drop of pre-cum slid down the side of his dick like a wayward tear, and he cried out as Tristan lightly nipped his ass. “So, this is what that was brushing against my finger. Thought I felt a bit of metal. A ring, Gabe?” Gabe panted. “I-it’s called a guiche. I told you I had one more piercing you—” Gabriel’s words ended on a moan when Tristan swiped his hot tongue over the ring. Tristan caught it lightly between his teeth and tugged. He twirled it around on his tongue, lavishing licks along the sensitive strip of skin just behind Gabriel’s balls. “Tris, Tris, babe, please…” Gabriel felt like he was going to go off again. He reached down and fisted the root of his cock. With his other hand, he squeezed his balls hard enough that the slight pain halted the urge to come. “Want you inside me before I come again,” he begged. “Yeah, I want that, too. Just one more thing I have to do first.” Tristan released the guiche piercing, and the next thing Gabriel knew, Tristan was rimming his tight entrance. Gabriel had to squeeze himself painfully once again, just to remind his body that it wasn’t time for the ultimate gratification just yet. He couldn’t believe Tristan was doing this to him. His ultra-conservative, level-headed brother was rimming him. Hips rocking, it was all Gabriel could do not to claw the sheets. The moment his muscles relaxed, he felt the warm insistent pressure of Tristan pushing inside him. “Oh, fuck, Tris. Mm-hmm.” That wicked tongue flicked and twirled, driving his nerve endings into a

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frenzy. Stretching pressure signalled the addition of a finger. Tristan was infinitely careful as he stretched Gabriel’s untried sphincter. There was only a slight sting and a burning ache as one finger became two then three. Tristan slid those three fingers in and out of Gabriel, mimicking the rhythm of their lovemaking. Meanwhile, his wicked tongue had gone back to toying with Gabriel’s guiche. Someone seemed enamoured with his surprise. Soon though the longing to be filled with more than just fingers urged Gabriel to beg for a proper fuck. Tristan disengaged his fingers and climbed up the bed. “It’s called making love, Gabe. Fucking is for bathroom stalls and the backseat of a Toyota.” Half-laughing Gabriel nodded that he agreed, dragging Tristan down for a kiss. “Fucking make love to me, bro. How’s that?” In answer to his question, Tristan grabbed Gabriel’s shoulders and flipped to his side before dragging Gabriel on top as he rolled to his back on the bed. Now, Gabriel straddled him. “How about you ride?” Gabriel grinned. “I’d be happy to.”

It had always been easier for Tristan to be himself around Gabriel. Still, he’d surprised himself with his daring tonight—none more so than when he asked Gabriel to ride his dick. Tristan had had fantasies about such an act. He just knew it would blow his mind when it really happened. Gabriel’s eagerness to do so made Tristan’s stomach clench with anticipation. Gabriel leant down to kiss him. Tristan heard the sound of foil crinkling as his twin reached for the condom and lube. Shit, he’d completely forgotten about those particular preparations. Some things about being with a man were still new to him. Not that he could be completely blamed. Gabriel made him forget himself. Sheathing Tristan’s cock with expertise, Gabriel added a liberal amount of lube to the condom before wetting his fingers and reaching back to take care of himself. Tristan couldn’t help but grin at the blush slashing across Gabriel’s cheeks when he did so. So little ever embarrassed his brother. To see this was endearing. Gabriel noticed his grin and frowned, though his eyes still sparkled. “Hey, don’t laugh.”

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“I’m not.” Tristan stroked the smooth-as-satin skin of his twin’s back. “Just thinking about how sexy you are. How much I can’t wait to be inside you.” The truth was easy with Gabriel. If he’d learned anything after his father’s death it was that life was too short to hold onto words. “Ah, man, don’t say shit like that.” Gabriel leant down to peck a kiss on Tristan’s mouth. “I’m too close already.” Reaching behind him, Gabriel clasped the root of Tristan’s cock and angled him towards his entrance. Tristan hissed at the heat and the pressure. All he wanted to do was plunge upward, but this had to be about Gabriel. In Gabriel’s due time. Tristan wouldn’t hurt Gabriel by being greedy. It felt like every muscle in Tristan’s body locked as he strained to hold still. A soft gasping cry left his lips as the head of his cock breached such incredible tight heat he thought it would destroy him. He struggled to keep his eyes open so that he could watch his brother’s expression, half-cast in the light of the lamp to the right side of the bed, the other half of Gabriel’s face was cast in shadow. It reminded him of the two of them. Like light to darkness they were each other’s balances. One could not exist without the other. Gabriel. Gabriel was more beautiful in that moment than Tristan had known, trembling, body covered in a fine sheen of sweat, with the rich gold of his hair clinging to his shoulders and the sides of his face. Wheat-coloured lashes rested against his flushed cheeks. His teeth sank into his luscious bottom lip. And as Tristan watched, a low groan broke from the seal of his kiss swollen lips. Gabriel’s body closed around the rest of him, as tight as any vice, hotter than any sin. Tristan couldn’t help rolling his hips again. He couldn’t hold still and prayed that Gabriel was ready. Gabriel met his thrust by clamping down with his inner muscles. It drew twin groans from both their mouths. “Ah, fuck.” Gabriel gasped. “So deep inside me, Tris.” Tristan’s nostrils flared at his erotic words. He knew he wasn’t going to last long, but he would enjoy the ride while it lasted. Bracing his hands to each side of Tristan’s torso, Gabriel hung his head so that his blond locks tickled over Tristan’s pectorals. Gabriel raised his hips, coming off his twin’s cock until

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only the head remained inside then, slowly, he lowered himself back down, hissing through his teeth as he settled his ass back on Tristan’s groin. Tristan framed Gabriel’s hips, needing something solid to hold onto as Gabriel rode him agonisingly slow. “More,” he panted. “Please, more, Gabe.” Gabriel nodded. “Yeah. Fuck, feels good.” “Mm-hmm,” Tristan agreed, arching up to meet Gabriel’s downward thrust. He knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of Gabriel’s thick cock. It had hurt a little at first, but after a while, the sweet burn only added to pleasure. But this was an entirely new ache that pulsed inside him, strangling his ability to speak. He could see Gabriel’s cock, slick with pre-cum, bobbing, flushed and red between them. On impulse, he wrapped his fist around it, pumping the hot-velvet shaft until Gabriel wailed for him. The room was filled with the sound of their harsh breathing and moans, the sound of flesh slapping together, and the scent of clean sweat and the musk of sex. Then the pungent tang of Gabriel’s cum permeated his senses as ropes of semen erupted from Gabriel’s cock, spurting on Tristan’s hand and belly. Gabriel’s inner muscles clamped down so hard around him it almost hurt. Tristan cried out, his muscles locking, spine arching as a hot flash of pleasure so acute it was almost pain speared through his system. He felt himself emptying into the condom, into the tight, clutching heat of Gabriel’s ass. Afterward, Gabriel collapsed on top of him, forcing the air from his lungs in a loud huff. Tristan wrapped his arms around his brother, hugging him close, content to feel the slowing of his rapid heartbeat. The rhythm matched his own. “Am I too heavy?” Gabriel asked after a long silence. Tristan shook his head. “No, you’re just right.” “Tristan.” “Yeah?” “Thank you.” Tristan rubbed his cheek against his brother’s, enjoying the warm feel of Gabriel’s skin, not minding at all they were both kind of sweaty. “For what?” “For catching me.” Tristan gave Gabriel’s waist a squeeze. “Always.”

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Epilogue

They say I should surrender Do you believe it’s true? They say I should surrender Just give up on loving you. They say I should surrender But they don’t know the half. They say I should surrender But I can’t go down that path. Tristan stood just off stage, hidden from the view of the audience by thick burgundy curtains. He’d never felt more a part of the band than at that moment. Gabriel was subtle— Tristan would give him that. No one would have suspected half of Gabriel’s movements were geared towards casting a sultry look to his brother just off stage. He looked so natural, like he was playing it up for the crowd. He’d been worried the first few times he’d stood offstage in plain sight that Gabriel would give too much away, but no one noticed but him and possibly Marilyn, and she was entranced with her drums. The crowd was as mellow as the lyrics to the song. The concert was drawing to an end and Thrice Broken always ended their last set with one of their slower songs. It settled down the crowd and ultimately helped the transition to clearing out the amphitheatre go a lot smoother for security. It was nice to see Gabriel in his element once again. There were times when Tristan still saw the pain of remembrance in his eyes, but that was to be expected. The wounds were too fresh to have healed completely. Tristan didn’t succeed in being optimistic all the time, either. Sometimes the grief would wash over him like it was yesterday. He still mourned the death of his father, but more importantly, he mourned for all he and Gabriel had lost with their mother. There was no way Tristan could be in the company of Samantha Stallings while

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knowing he was hurting Gabriel, while knowing she despised someone she had given life to. He mourned his mother because he could not forgive her for that. Everything else in life seemed to be running smoothly. Tristan had weekends off from his new job, and usually, Gabriel had a ticket waiting for him to travel to whatever city the band performed in. All the travelling was tiring, but Gabriel needed him more than ever now so Tristan went to him. The next tour would be time enough to negotiate less visiting trips. But for now, he didn’t mind. No one in the band, who didn’t already know about their relationship, seemed to suspect at thing about them, and Gabriel and Tristan were never more affectionate than deemed appropriate in public. Though Gabriel, still the more daring of the two, liked to push the envelope. As Tristan watched the song Surrender draw to a close, his charismatic older brother turned with a swish of his waist-length leather jacket and started walking towards him. Tristan threw out a hand to ward him off and shook his head, but it was already too late. The crowd was murmuring with excitement, and all the members of Thrice Broken were grinning in his direction. “Come on, Tris,” Gabriel coaxed, tugging him along as he walked back onto the middle of the stage. As soon as they passed the curtain, Tristan stopped struggling and walked alongside Gabriel instead of being dragged behind him. The crowd went wild as they saw Gabriel’s double. Fans screamed things like, “We love you, Gabriel!” “I love the twins!” echoed through the crowd. Ignoring the daggers Tristan glared at him, Gabriel turned to the band and gave them a signal for some song he wanted played. Ty came in first with the keyboard then Marilyn with the drums. Once Kane had joined in with his electric guitar, Gabriel lifted the microphone to his lips and started to sing. This world ain’t what I thought it would be…

The crowd joined in singing the chorus and the lyrics to the first verse before starting the chorus once more. Tristan stood there like a deer in head-lights and tried not to fidget.

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After the second verse, the song got back around to the chorus, and Gabriel shocked him by holding the microphone in front of his mouth. Tristan was too terrified to sing. He’d never really thought about doing it, not even in the shower. It had never been his passion like it was for Gabriel. Though logically he knew his voice was about the same as his brother’s, he still lacked the formal training and vocal range. Shaking his head, panicked, Tristan pushed the microphone away, mortified when it emitted a static screech. Instead of letting him run from the stage like a scared rabbit, Gabriel just smiled, looped an arm around his neck and pulled him to his side. “Ladies and gentlemen listen up.” Marilyn, Kane, and Ty lowered the volume and slowed the tempo of their playing. “As many of you know this is my twin brother, Tristan.” Someone shouted curiously from the crowd. “Who’s the oldest?” “Why I am,” Gabriel said with a dazzling grin. “Though I am the better looking of the two.” The crowd roared with laughter at his easy humour. “My baby brother has never been in front of a crowd as awesome as the one we have here tonight. So I’m afraid he has a bit of stage fright. But let’s see if we can get him to sing a bit for us, shall we? Everyone who wants Tristan to sing, say ‘Sing for us, Tristan’.” The crowd erupted with, “Sing for us, Tristan.” The chant went on for a full thirty seconds until it was cut down to the uniform chant of “Tristan. Tristan. Tristan.” Feeling like his guts were under siege from a full scale war, Tristan realised he might not be able to ‘logic’ his way out of this one. Casting Gabriel a look that promised retribution, Tristan snatched the microphone his twin smugly held out to him. An excited cheer rippled through the crowd, and the chant died. The band picked up the beat and started the intro to the chorus once more. What the hell! Tristan thought. You only live once. Tristan started singing, and soon, Gabriel leant forward to add his voice to his brothers. Together, their voices blended into near-perfect harmony. My soul would fly to places Filling all the empty places And angels would come down

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Turning all the hurt around. Immortalise my soul Take out the bitter cold

The crowd, at least the young women, screamed louder than they ever had. Tristan looked around at the sea of people, at the hundreds of white flashes from cameras and the glow of camera phones, and felt the excitement of the moment and the crowd rush over him. Life might not be perfect, but with Gabriel at his side, it was damn close. Tristan saw the smiling faces of the fans in the first few rows where the stage lights reached. People of every shape and colour screamed or sang along to the song. It was one perfect moment where every fear eased from inside his chest. This was what it felt like to be on top of the world. Tristan never wanted to come down.

About the Author Sage Whistler was born in North Carolina but spent the better part of her life in Connecticut. She was born the second of two daughters in the freezing cold one dreary January morning. Sage still thinks that being the first month of the year someone could have picked a birthstone colour much lovelier than garnet. Before Sage knew how to write she was making up stories, reading to her grandparents from a magazine, using words that weren't actually printed in the book. In her later years she began reading and writing romance, but her evolution to erotica happened virtually overnight. One day she was reading a sedate romance and then she stumbled upon an erotica book and it was all she wrote. Pleading guilty to a flirty mind, Sage hopped from the mainstream to swim up creek with the bad boys and started writing gay fiction almost two years ago. She's been hooked ever since. Sage readily admits to being a bit quirky, prone to doing things like blurting out random lines from one of her favourite movies. Her favourite time to weave stories is late at night when the world seems to be asleep, and one of her personal goals is to write the kinds of stories that shock, thrill, and delight her readers. Email: [email protected] Sage loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.

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