I Wanted One Stepbrother, So All Three Claimed Me novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Wire-Rim

Erik 'tutors' Kenji in calculus and insults him through every minute of it until his fingers and his mouth are on Kenji instead.

"You're doing it wrong, Tanabe," Erik said. "Again."

Kenji looked at the page.

It was eight o'clock at night, and he had been staring at a derivative for forty minutes.

"I'm an English major."

"You're an idiot. That's a separate problem." Erik pushed his glasses up his nose with one knuckle and tapped the notebook. "The chain rule. Outside, then inside. It isn't hard."

"You're looming."

"I'm sitting. In my own chair, in my own room."

That was true.

Erik's room was at the end of the second-floor hall, narrow and warm.

It held a drafting table, a half-built brass clock on the dresser and an engine part in pieces on a towel.

Kenji sat on the edge of the narrow bed with the textbook on his knees.

Erik sat in the desk chair turned backward, his chin on his folded arms and his copper hair falling over one eyebrow.

Kenji had been in this room twice before.

He had never noticed how close the chair was.

"You asked me to tutor you," Erik said. "Twelve days ago. I said no. Now I'm here, doing it, and you're staring at my mouth."

"You're insulting me."

"I'm teaching you," Erik said.

"It's the same thing, with you."

Erik's ears went pink.

He picked up a pencil, snapped it in half, and put both pieces down on the desk like evidence.

"Fine," he said. "Show me your leg."

"What?"

"Your leg. The thigh. Soren's mark, the one he left on you this morning." Erik's voice was flat. "He bit you. I could smell it on the stairs. He does that to everything he thinks is his, like a dog on a fire hydrant, and I want to see how bad it is."

"It's fine."

"Show me."

Kenji set the book down.

He stood, undid his jeans, and pushed them to mid-thigh, and Erik's gaze dropped.

The bruise had come up purple and perfect, a half-ring of tooth marks on the soft inside of his leg.

Erik stared at it for a long time.

His throat moved.

"That's disgusting," he said hoarsely.

"Soren said you'd say that."

"Soren is a child," Erik said.

"Soren said you'd hate it."

"I do hate it," Erik said. "I hate everything about it."

He put one hand on Kenji's knee, and stroked his thumb over the edge of the bruise, very lightly.

Kenji held his breath.

Erik's fingers were long, ink-stained, and cooler than the rest of him.

They traced the mark, and moved higher, and Kenji's cock, which had no manners at all, filled against his boxers.

"You're breathing on my notes," Erik muttered.

"You're touching my leg."

"I'm examining it," Erik said.

"Is that what you call it?"

Erik looked up.

His eyes behind the wire rims were a green-brown that never settled, and right now they were furious, and wide, and wet at the corners.

"Take them off," he said. "Everything. Sit on the desk."

Kenji did.

He pushed his jeans and boxers to the floor and hopped up onto the drafting table, bare on the cool wood.

A protractor dug into his hip.

Erik took his glasses off and set them on a stack of blueprints.

Without them he looked younger, and more dangerous.

He opened the desk drawer and took out a small bottle, and Kenji laughed, shocked.

"You keep lube in your homework drawer?"

"I keep it where I can find it." Erik's mouth twisted. "Open your legs, idiot."

He knelt on the floor between Kenji's knees.

Kenji looked down at the copper head between his thighs and wanted him so badly it hurt.

"Erik..."

"Shut up."

Erik hooked both hands behind Kenji's knees and pushed them up and wide, tipping him back against the drafting board.

He did not kiss his mouth.

He put his own mouth low, at the crease of his thigh, over Soren's bite.

He bit down over the top of it, harder than Soren had.

Kenji yelped.

"Mine now," Erik said, to the bruise.

"You are all insane."

"You don't know the half of it." He licked the mark, slow and rough. "Hold still."

His tongue went lower.

Kenji grabbed the edge of the table.

Erik's tongue traced a hot wet line down and underneath, over his balls and lower still.

When it found the tight ring of muscle behind them, Kenji's whole body arched off the wood.

"Oh my God."

"Quiet," Erik said, into him. "Tilda's doing homework next door."

He did it slowly, thoroughly, with a serious, methodical attention.

His tongue circled and pressed and fluttered, and Kenji's hand flew to his own mouth.

Then a slick finger joined it.

The first knuckle was tight and strange and a little cold.

The second made him groan into his palm.

Erik curled his finger up and found the place at once, and white heat flared behind Kenji's eyes.

"There it is," Erik said, with satisfaction.

"How do you know where..."

"I read," Erik said.

"You read?"

"I read everything." Erik added a second finger, working him open with small, exact motions. "You're clenching. Stop thinking, Tanabe."

"You told me to stop thinking about calculus."

"Then think about this."

He pressed.

Kenji came off the desk with a cry that he smothered in his own arm, his cock jumping against his stomach, wet at the tip.

Erik watched him with a hungry, startled look.

He took Kenji into his mouth then, while his fingers stayed buried and moving.

He sucked him with an engineer's precision, hollowing his cheeks, tonguing the slit, never breaking the rhythm of his hand.

Kenji's thighs shook on either side of his head.

"I'm going to come," he gasped.

Erik hummed.

Kenji came down his throat, rigid and soundless, with his mouth wide open and his eyes squeezed shut.

Erik swallowed and kept going until it was too much, and Kenji pushed him away with a hoarse laugh.

Erik sat back on his heels.

His glasses were gone, his lips were wet, and his face was blotched red from the neck up.

He wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist.

"Say my name," he said suddenly, and his voice cracked. "Not 'Four Eyes.' Mine."

Kenji's lungs were still working.

"Erik," he started.

"Not like that. Like you mean it."

Kenji opened his mouth, and found that he could not, quite, with his chest this full.

He had called this man an idiot for eleven weeks.

He did not know what it would cost him to say it differently.

Erik saw the hesitation, and something in his face shut.

"Get out," he said. "Take the book. Do the problems. Don't be weird about it."

"Erik."

"Out, Tanabe!"

He shoved Kenji's jeans into his arms and pushed him into the hallway, and the door slammed.

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