Don't Tell My Brother

Chapter 44 - Soap

A/N: Yes, guys, there's explicit sexual content in this one. It takes up most of the chapter, so if that's not your thing scroll right to the end.

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Lucas could hear the click of a lock, which was something of a relief. But still, now that they were in the closet – both literally, one of them figuratively, he noted, appreciating the double entendre – it felt a little more real. The space was more of a tiny room than a closet: two shelves of towels, soaps and various other toiletries lined the walls, with a single chair in the corner. It was warmly lit, two low-hanging lamps overhead casting an orange-yellow glow over the tiny room. Not as lavishly furnished as the rest of The Palace, but the shelves were carved from wood, the towels fresh and fluffy, and all the products the shelves held certainly looked expensive. They'd papered it with the same cream wallpaper as the hallway.

"Fucking hell. Even their storage closets are fancy." Damien scoffed.

Lucas glanced around, taking it all in. "It'll do."

"And you say I'm not romantic. 'It'll do', the words every guy dreams of hearing. Really, Lucas, I'm weak at the knees..." But despite his mock outrage, Damien swept Lucas into his arms, wrapping them around his waist until he held Lucas against his chest.

"You'll get over it." Lucas responded, and when he reached up to kiss Damien, he could feel the other smiling against his lips.

It was brief. Damien broke it, looking down at him searchingly. "Are you okay, though? We can leave at any time, Lucas. No pressure, no big deal."

"No, no, I want to." Lucas said, and he did. He still had that itch under his skin, the arousal that Damien had been drawing him to every time he'd let his hands stay a little too long, whispered in a tone a little too low, and he definitely wanted to do something about it. "It's just..." He glanced to the door. "I don't want someone to walk in."

The mortification would probably kill him, no matter what they were up to. And it'd out Damien, which was just as bad. Though he supposed Damien had just outed himself to Cameron... It was something he'd have to ask about later.

"Hm. Didn't think of that." Damien said, glancing to the door.

"Good thing one of us did."

"I'm a little distracted, Lucas." Damien replied, slipping a hand under the hem of Lucas' T-shirt, warm fingers tracing a line against his skin, around his hips, just above his waistband. Like always, it made him shiver. "But if you insist."

He stepped back, and Lucas was tempted to tell him to leave it, that it'd be fine, because Damien couldn't just keep touching him like that and then leaving him. He watched impatient, as Damien jammed the chair under the doorhandle.

"See? I'm so good at romance, don't know what you were talking about." Damien said, turning back to face Lucas. He looked unbearably cocky, and it must've been something in Lucas' face that had him so assured. Because Lucas felt like he might jump him if something didn't happen soon. "Now, I think we had some business to sort out. Something about being 'just friends'?"

Lucas rolled his eyes, exasperation heightened by the fact that Damien, probably the horniest person he'd ever met, was making him wait. "You know I only said that not to out you."

Damien shrugged, stepping closer. "I don't know. Sort of seems like you've forgotten." And he looked wicked and wonderful, eyes dark and fixed on Lucas with that hungry sort of want, the kind that left him rooted to the spot. "I think I should remind you."

And before Lucas could respond – though at that moment he could've have thought of a snappy retort if he'd tried – Damien's hands were on him, and his back was unceremoniously hitting the wall, and they were kissing again.