V for Virgin! [M/F/M - 3rd Draft]

Seth

I struggled with Ethan's front door as I juggled two iced coffees, a box of cupcake muffin hybrids, and my 'seen-better-days' imitation Coach purse. An eight-hour shift from hell, courtesy of The Coffee Barn, and that mighty doorknob was two seconds away from taking me out.

"Pft. I might just let it," I mumbled before giving in and tapping my aching foot against the door.

It swung open instantly, and there stood Seth, the fit model with permanently bronzed skin, thanks to his Italian and Greek heritage, cerulean blue 'fuck-me' bedroom eyes, and medium length hair so black it almost had a blue sheen. He wore a pristine white polo shirt, barely hiding the tribal art tattoo that curled at the base of his throat, and light gray sweats. Draw-string sweat pants were his go-to when he wasn't in public.

I swallowed and offered him a timid smile. "Hey. I got you an iced coffee," I said, holding the cups out to him.

Seth took them but didn't say anything, which was unusual. Whether it was teasing me mercilessly, making gutter worthy jokes, telling stories about his Mafia involved family, or snarky remarks at something stupid I'd said he always had something to say.

So when his silence continued and his head tilted to the side as he eyed me I knew Ethan had already told him what I wanted. I bit my bottom lip at the realization, pausing as I noticed Seth's eyes zoning in on the movement. My heart fluttered and I could feel the heat filling my cheeks. It was fairly cold outside, so my cheeks were already chapped and probably pink, but where my apartment was on the wrong side of town and lacked everything, Ethan's was the exact opposite. So the heating in the building had already started bringing my body to a normal temperature and I wasn't so sure I'd be able to hide my blush for much longer.

"He told you?"

Seth neither confirmed nor denied it, but his lingering gaze down the front of my body told me the truth. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as I stepped inside, trying not to bump into his front as he stood immobile in the same spot. I shucked my shoes off, careful the movement didn't upset the contents in the box I held, and wiggled out of my red plaid fleeced jacket I'd found for practically free at a local Goodwill.

"What's in the box?" he asked, stepping closer towards me.

I glanced up warily and turned my body away from him so I could hide my treasure. "It's not for you. You and Ethan got an iced coffee."

"Okay, but what is it?" His hand darted out to try and grab it from me, forcing his chest closer to my face so that I got a whiff of pine and sandalwood. One of these days I planned on smuggling his and Ethan's cologne so I could spray my lumpy bed pillows with it. Where Seth smelled like spice, Ethan smelled like sugar, well specifically honeysuckle and fresh cotton, which to me was the equivalent of sugar. It was one other way they offset each other so well.

Resisting the urge to bury my nose in him, I danced out of his reach and held the green box to my chest, desperately trying to keep the gold-dusted chocolate ganache on my hybrid cupcake muffins from pressing into the top of the clear film.

"I'm not sharing with you!"

He paused and glanced down at me. When I'd first met Seth, about three years ago, I'd been intimidated by him, mostly due to his height, numerous tattoos, and strange scars that littered his torso. He easily was a half a foot taller than Ethan and Ethan was just passing six feet. There I was, Miss Short Stuff, at a solid five four. I got over it, but now, with him towering over me, I remembered my hesitance at that first meeting.

"But you expect me to share with you?"

My mouth dropped open and I stilled. I knew Seth would eventually plow into the topic. It was just his way, but I hadn't expected it to be over my dessert. "That's different!" I cried out.

The corner of his mouth curled upwards into a smirk. "Is it now? Care to enlighten me then."

I frowned and bit my lip as I thought about it. "Well—"

He raised a black eyebrow and folded his arms across his wide chest. "Yes?"

"You're not the only one that has to share in that instance."

"Oh," he managed around a chuckle. "Okay." He stepped away from me and made a wide gesture with both of his hands towards the living room.

I lifted my head, squared my shoulders, and pushed my chest out. My show of defiance only made him laugh harder. I was used to this type of ribbing from him. He was always trying to take my food, something he thinks is just so hilarious because I react to it, but he didn't know the reason behind my actions. It wasn't the first foster home I'd been in where they treated the kids like trash. I had plenty of instances after my biological parents died in that crash, but it was only after my adopted parents --both of whom I thoroughly adored--bit the bullet, and before Ethan's parents could legally swoop in and save me, that I experienced what true, gut gnawing, hunger felt like. That foster 'hell' thought it was okay to feed the children as sparingly as possible.

Sobering thoughts could bite my ass. I was truly tired of them creeping into my daily life activities and a marathon of sex might just fix that problem. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning like a loon as I took closer steps to the living room, but Seth's hands wrapped around my upper arms, pulling my back against his chest. He leaned down closer, so close I could feel his coffee-scented breath ruffling my hair and caressing the auricle of my ear.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Cassie?" His whispered words made me shiver as I watched the back of Ethan's head bob enthusiastically as he played some 'shoot-em-up' game on his game console. I settled into his chest, letting my eyes shut briefly at the contact of his muscular pectorals against me.

"Yes."