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.

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 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 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.

* * * *

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 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.

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.

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.”

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 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.”

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 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. “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. “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.

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.
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 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.

“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 th-thirty 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 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
Play

girl

or Play

boy

?” 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, 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
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.

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.

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?

“A nd

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 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.

* * * *

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 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 square-toed, 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 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 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.

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-to-wall 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.”

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.

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.

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.

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 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

sai d

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.

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

m e .

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.

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.

“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 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.”

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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-two-year-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 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 rock-hard 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.
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, nearly-hairless 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
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?”

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 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 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 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

h a d

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.”

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 Tristan pulling them chest to chest. Tristan
whimpered as his nipples rasped the rough-textured 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. 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 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.

“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.”

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 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.”
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.

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.

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.”

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.

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. 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.”

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.

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 ribbon-wrapped 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

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-cane-striped 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 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?

* * * *

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.

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.”

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 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.

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.

Chapter Ten

The outside of the house wasn’t what Gabriel

remembered. It used to be white, or off-white, 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
grey-streaked 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, 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.

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.

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.

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 white-and red swings. They were only
made to hold children. He didn’t sit but headed for the
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.

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.

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.

“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 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.

Chapter Twelve

As Gabriel stood at the last resting place of Joe

Stallings and watched the glossy silver-grey 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.

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.

* * * *

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?”
“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?

* * * *

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.

* * * *

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.”

“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.

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.

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 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.”

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
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.

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.

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.

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 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 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
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.”
“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 mind-reader! 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.

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.”

“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 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 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.

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.

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.

“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.”

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 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.”

“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 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.”

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 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. 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
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:

[e-mail]

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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