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Matthew let go and threw his hands up in the air. “I got fired. Okay? When I went on my break, my register came up short. My new asshole boss confronted me. Right in front of the other guys and the customers. He said he knew I did it. He said he was right about me and my kind. I lost my temper. I screamed at him. And got fired!”

Richard placed a hand on the smaller man's shoulder. “Shit. You didn't deserve that. It wasn't your fault.”

“I wouldn't steal. I wouldn't. That homophobic asshole was just looking for an excuse.”

Every muscle in my body wanted to move in and hold the man. What did Richard want to do?

He spoke, his voice tight but soft. “No, you wouldn't. We're here to listen, if you'd like to talk about it.”

Matthew shook his head. He stared at the floor again. “Not like this. I get worked up when I feel like I'm failing. I don't want to be around anyone like this. Not you guys.”

Richard gave a nod. “Okay. We'll be downstairs when you're ready to talk.” He gave Matthew's arm one last squeeze and turned away.

“No, it's not okay.” The words came out more pissed than I intended.

Richard spun around.

Matthew's gaze rose from the floor. There was anger and fear and hope in those dark eyes.

Why couldn't I walk away? If I wanted time alone, I wouldn't want them to bother me. Why couldn't I give the same to Matthew?

“We'll be here when you're ready,” Richard said. He looped his hand around my arm and encouraged me to move with him.

I stood my ground.

“Give him space,” Richard added. “He'll come down later.”

No. Matthew needed one thing to feel better. I reached out, settled a hand at the back of his head, and brought his mouth to mine.

He held still for a moment. Then he kissed me back. His arms snaked tight around me, and he fed me everything he could with his kiss. A bolt of desire shot through me as he pressed his groin to me. His dick firmed more with each roll of his hips. He humped at me again and again, strong, powerful stabs of body against body.

Richard's arms circled my waist. He pulled Matthew and me into the hall. “In our room.” His voice was low, desire beneath the trepidation.

With his help, we made it to the bedroom and undressed. Matthew wouldn't let go of me. His mouth gave mine no reprieve. He needed me, needed us. He needed to feel alive.

If nothing else, I could give him that.

I wrestled his body to the edge of the bed and flung us down, pushing hard against him. I sucked and bit at his neck. I twisted a nipple until the point felt sharp to the tough flesh of my fingers.

He bucked underneath me with unrestrained force.

I knew what to do.

I got on my hands and knees. “Fuck me?”

“Luke. Yes.” His hands never left me. His body trembled.

I reached around and gripped his forearm. “It's okay, Matthew. We're gonna make you feel better.”

“Yes,” he said, and a desperate moan followed.

Richard retrieved lube from the nightstand. He slicked Matthew's shaft, then my ass. He held Matthew's hips with gentle hands as he lined him up. I lowered my head.

Matthew plunged into me. There was no finesse or grace about him. His movements were sloppy and forceful. His dick slipped out of me more than once, and each time he groaned, grabbed himself, and shoved inside me again. He had never been so fierce with anal sex before. My ass was glad it'd been getting a lot of play lately.

Richard stretched out beside us and placed a hand on Matthew's hip. Only after Matthew climaxed did Richard wrap a hand around his own neglected erection. I came as I watched his large hand work in a quick jerk.

Matthew collapsed onto my back. “Thank you.”

Richard drew the smaller man into his arms and held him. His lips lingered over the pale skin at Matthew's temple.

I pressed close on Matthew's other side. Together we'd make him feel safe.

I awoke the next morning with Matthew snug against me. He looked peaceful. I buried my nose in his dark hair, breathed in his scent— the spice, the faint mint that somehow always lingered— and enjoyed the man in my arms.

But it was early, and Richard's empty side of the bed nagged at me. I hurried in the shower and descended the stairs.

Richard stood in the darkened kitchen, leaning against the sink. The dim stove light reached the top half of his face. His eyes glowed like a cat on the prowl at night, caught in the beam of a car's headlights. They glared at me. Already dressed for the day, he held a coffee cup in his hand.

He stalked to the table and yanked out a chair.

I poured a cup of coffee and sat across from him. I didn't shy away from confrontations. I'd done nothing wrong.

He didn't speak until I swallowed the last of my coffee. I wasn't a shy man, but I also wasn't a man who liked to talk about anything involving emotions. And whatever he thought I'd done wrong had everything to do with the emotional state of the man I left sleeping upstairs.

“He told you about that asshole from college? Jake?”

“He did,” I said.

Richard removed his hand from the cup and leaned back in his chair. He crossed his strong arms in front of him. His stare pierced me so long I almost started to speak, and then he continued. “He told me after he talked to you. I don't think he liked the idea of one of us knowing personal shit about him without the other knowing too.”

“Makes sense. He said he didn't want to keep anything from us.”

“That's why I brought it up. He's the kind of man who needs to get things out in the open. He needs to talk them through, get them off his chest.”

“I'm