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Saxon only had stuttering, snapshot memories of the day that would become the demarcation point in his life. Everything could be divided into before and after the day he found Lochlan dying.
He'd nudged Lochy with his bare foot, thinking his brother was just fucking around. And then he'd seen the vomit caked down his chest and floating in the pool like a chemical spill. Everything after that was a blur. He was screaming for help, carrying Lochy in his arms, barely even noticing the weight.
There was an ambulance. People shouting. A panicked ride to a Thai hospital, during which, the doctors told him later, Lochlan's heart stopped three separate times. He was pale and lifeless while they shocked his heart back into rhythm. Just before they arrived at the hospital, he vomited again.
Their parents and sister weren't there. They were still at the resort, probably. He didn't have his phone to call them, not that they were likely to be much help anyway. At the hospital, he sat on a cheap folding chair in a corner of the emergency room and watched as the doctors injected Lochy with what they said was an antidote to the poison. They wanted to know what he'd eaten, what he'd taken, but Saxon didn't know.
Through all of it, Lochy's eyes never opened.
Later, they said it was the fucking—fruit or whatever, the poisonous shit that was lying all over the place at the resort. Saxon had thought that was just some bullshit the resort said to make it sound exotic, but apparently they actually left poisonous fruit all over their property. Sounded like a great fucking way to kill one of their guests. Lawsuit waiting to happen.
"Is he gonna—" Saxon's voice broke like a fucking girl's. He stiffened his jaw, tried again. "Is he gonna make it?" he asked.
It was hard to understand the Thai doctor, but Saxon picked up enough to get that the answer was yes. Lochy was going to make it. But they had to stay until the antidote took full effect.
"Yeah, sure," Saxon said. "No problem." He dragged his chair closer to Lochlan's bed, glaring at the medical staff, daring someone to have a problem with it. As soon as they left, he took Lochlan's warm, limp hand in his own. Fuck anyone who thought he was being a pussy. He wanted to feel Lochy's pulse. Wanted to know he was still breathing.
His parents were nowhere.
Saxon had been right. The rest of his family was no fucking help whatsoever when they finally showed up, other than Piper giving him back his phone.
His dad wasn't there because he was on the phone with his attorney trying to figure out how to avoid jail time, apparently. His mom was halfway through a tripped-out explanation of why Dad had to go back to the United States right now, and Piper kept interrupting saying something about extradition treaties, and both of them were crying, when Saxon cut them off. "Shut up," he said. "Shut the fuck up, both of you."
Piper rolled her eyes, but his mom looked as shocked as though he'd slapped her in the face. As though any of this were Saxon's fucking fault. "Just tell me what I have to do," he said flatly. The heart monitor beeped quietly behind them, in sync with Lochlan's slow, regular breathing.
So his dad was being extradited, and his mom had to go to "support him," whatever the fuck that meant, and Piper had to go to support her. They had to leave today, and Lochlan was supposed to stay in the hospital until he was awake and stable, which considering he'd eaten an unknown quantity of something that was apparently called "suicide fruit"—Saxon wanted to sue this entire fucking country—might be a while.
"I'll stay with him," he said.
His mom gave him a rictus, lipstick-ringed smile. "Oh, honey," she said.
"Just go," Saxon said. "Don't forget to buy us a plane ticket home." Although, shit, Dad's funds were going to get frozen, if they weren't already. He hoped they didn't kick Lochlan out of the hospital. "Go on, get the fuck out. Tell dad... tell him good luck, I guess."
They finally left, which was a relief, and Saxon went back to his vigil at his brother's bedside. Lochy was pale, and his eye sockets were sunken in, ringed red. He looked like shit. Saxon wanted to know how the hell his little brother had managed to eat a fucking suicide fruit. It's not like Lochy was in the habit of going around eating shit that he found on the ground.
But maybe he'd heard the stories about what it was. Maybe he—
Saxon had been a little rough on Lochy, the last time they talked. He remembered how Lochy's face had crumpled, how he'd shrunk in on himself. Maybe he'd taken things harder than Saxon thought.
But no. Fuck that. His brother wouldn't eat a fucking suicide fruit just because Saxon said something mean to him. Saxon said mean shit to him all the time. So no way did he do this intentionally. Lochy was strong. He was strong enough to survive his heart stopping three times, and he was sure as fuck strong enough to handle some mean shit from his brother. He was going to be fine.
Saxon squeezed Lochlan's hand again. "Wake up, you little asshole," he whispered. "Stop fucking around."
Lochlan was having a really good dream. Like, a really good dream. He was warm and safe and everyone was hugging him. Everyone was so happy to see him.
He didn't want to wake up from it, but something was making him. Someone was calling his name. "Shut up," he mumbled. "Wanna sleep." He tried to turn over onto his side and pull his pillow over his head but—the pillow wasn't there. And his arm ran into something hard and cold. He opened his eyes, wincing against the glare. The hard, cold thing was a bed railing. He wasn't in his room. This was—a doctor's office. Or a hospital?
"It's about time, you little fucker," Saxon said, and oh, okay. Saxon was there. Lochlan relaxed. He squinted up at his brother's face.
"Saxon?" he asked. His voice was dry and scratchy, and his mouth tasted horrible. The last thing he remembered was being at the pool and feeling like he might be about to throw up. "Saxon, what's going on? Where am I?"
Saxon's face was tight and serious, which was not a way that Saxon ever usually looked. Lochlan frowned, mirroring him. "I have to go find a doctor," Saxon said. "Stay here and don't, like, pass out again."
"I'll try," Lochlan said. He didn't want Saxon to leave, but Saxon seemed to think finding the doctor was important, so he wouldn't complain. He was a pleaser, after all. But that thought made his stomach twist up, remembering when he'd said it to Saxon the day before. Saxon had looked disgusted, and then angry, and then he didn't want to talk to Lochlan at all. It was—horrible, actually. Not as horrible as waking up in a Thai hospital, but pretty bad.
He didn't really want to think about that anymore. Maybe whatever was happening to him now would help keep his mind off it. That would be nice.
Saxon was gone for a while, and Lochlan tried to keep his end of the agreement, but it was a losing battle. Eventually his eyes fluttered closed, and he sank back into the soft, warm arms of unconsciousness.
Lochy slept for the next several hours, which the doctors said was fine, because apparently sleep was healing. Which sounded like some hippie bullshit, and Saxon wished they were in a real fucking American hospital, but he did have to admit that Lochy was looking better the next morning. Less...dead.
Saxon had spent the night curled up on the floor with a pillow he stole from a nearby exam room, getting fitful bouts of sleep twenty minutes at a time. Eventually, he gave up and went out into the hallway to call his parents. Dad's phone went to a full voicemail box, not that Saxon was going to leave a fucking voicemail anyway. He tried his mom next. She picked up on the third ring, sounding like she was about six benzos into a bender. Through the barely-coherent jumble of words, Saxon got that Mom and Piper were still at the Bangkok airport and that Mom didn't think any of the credit cards were still going to work. After about the third time she rambled "you're just going to have to make things work, sweetheart," Saxon asked her to put Piper on the phone.
"Is Lochy okay?" Piper asked.
"I don't fucking know," Saxon said. "I think so. He woke up for a while yesterday. They think he accidentally ate something called a suicide fruit?"
"He what?" Piper asked.
Saxon closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "I don't fucking know, okay. I can only understand, like, ten percent of what the doctor says. Look, is Mom for real? Did all of our credit cards get shut off?"
"Yep," Piper said, popping the P.
"What the fuck am I supposed to do?"
"Stay in the hospital, I guess," Piper said. "I think they have national health care in Thailand. I don't know, Sax, this is all fucked up. I heard Dad say something about some emergency accounts he has, but it sounded like it was going to be a couple of weeks before we can get our hands on that. If we even can. He's not making a lot of sense right now."
"Jesus fucking Christ," Saxon said with feeling.
"Yeah," Piper said. "Hey, our flight is boarding, I have to go. Take care of Lochy, okay?"
Saxon hung up without saying goodbye.
Before Saxon could even put his phone away, a news alert popped up on his phone about a gunfight at a Thai tourist resort. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," he muttered, and he opened the article to a photo of Chelsea and her douchebag boyfriend, both of whom were apparently dead.
Saxon stared at the photos blankly for a long time. It occurred to him that he'd actually never been in a stressful situation before this. Oh sure, he'd been in situations he thought were stressful at the time—work shit, passing his classes at Duke, whatever. But none of that had prepared him for being broke and in a foreign country while trying to take care of his brother who just almost died.
The big difference was that if he failed out of Duke, his parents could bail him out, and if he fucked up at work, his dad would help him, but right here, right now, he had nobody. His parents were useless, Piper was basically useless, and everyone he knew in this country was a grifter. Or dead. He had 15,000 baht in cash, which he thought was like 500 bucks maybe, and a couple of expensive watches that he could sell if it came to that. And that was it. He could have used more of an easy intro to actual stress. Something in the middle between bullshit college classes and literal life or death.
He shoved his phone in his pocket and went back into the hospital room to check on Lochy.
Lochy was still sleeping. The doctor showed up a little while later, and Saxon struggled his way through another garbled conversation, during which he gleaned that Lochy was definitely going to survive, that he needed to rest and eat mild foods (Saxon had no idea what the fuck that meant; avoid curry?), and that he should avoid flying for at least a week, preferably two.
"Two weeks?" Saxon said, raising his voice. Lochy flinched in his bed, rousing from sleep. "Sorry," Saxon said. "Sorry, just—look, two weeks?"
The doctor shrugged. "Pressure changes will be difficult for him. One week, maybe, but two is better."
"And he can stay here?" Saxon asked.
"No, he will be discharged this morning," the doctor said.
A fairly intense conversation ensued, which Saxon had to move out into the hallway because he could tell it was making Lochlan upset. He demanded to know why they were evicting his brother even though he apparently needed rest and care for the next two fucking weeks.
But the doctor was implacable, and Saxon had to back off so they wouldn't throw him out of the building for threatening the medical staff. He took a deep breath, fighting off panic. Okay, he'd think of something. Hotels were out, because 500 bucks couldn't get you two weeks even in the shittiest Motel 6 in America, much less something in the tourist sector of Thailand. And they couldn't very well sleep at the goddamned airport.
Their shit was still all back at the White Lotus, though. The White Lotus, which was closed because there'd just been a fatal gunfight there. He chewed the edge of his thumbnail, considering. Yeah. That was his best option.
He went back into the room.
"Saxon?" Lochy asked, dark circles ringing his eyes. His hair was damp and matted to his forehead. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," Saxon lied. "I just need to figure some things out. You get some more sleep or whatever, okay? They said you need rest. I'm going back to the White Lotus for a little bit. Gotta talk to some people."
"You're leaving?" Lochy asked, eyes wide.
"Just to check on some stuff. I'll be back really soon," Saxon said.
"Okay," Lochy said. "Promise?" But before Saxon could even respond, Lochy's eyes had already drifted closed again.
The conversation at the White Lotus went better than the one at the hospital. Saxon used words like "lawsuit" and "publicity," and the fuckstick manager's face went white. "Look," Saxon said, "you just said the resort is shut down for at least a month, right?"
"Yes," the man told him, "which is why—"
"So there's no problem with us staying here while my brother recuperates. You're not gonna rent those rooms anyway. You're losing nothing. We'll be gone by the time you reopen, no big deal. We'll stay out of your way, it won't be a problem. Right?"
The man's eyes darted left and right like he was looking for someone else to appeal to, but he was it. End of the line. The Thai lady who owned the place had gone back to Bangkok for the funeral. "Well," he said slowly, "I suppose..."
"Great," Saxon said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I knew we could work something out."
Saxon spent 200 baht on one of the taxi van things to get himself and Lochy back to the White Lotus. It would have been cheaper to walk, which is what he'd done earlier, but there's no way Lochy was up to walking that far in his condition. He slumped against Saxon, a heavy weight against his shoulder.
The ride was only about ten minutes. The driver let them off at the gates. "This is really weird," Lochy said quietly, taking in their surroundings. Saxon had given him the brief rundown of what happened in the taxi. "It's like a zombie apocalypse."
The usual sounds of the resort were silenced. Nobody splashing in the pools, no singing or dancing, no clinking of glasses at the bar. Saxon could hear the distant sound of a vacuum cleaner, so someone was at least working on cleaning the place up. As they walked down the main boulevard, there were bloodstains all over the pavement. Saxon saw what looked like bullet holes in one of the patio tables, turned on its side.
"Sorry I couldn't move us somewhere better," Saxon said.
"Are they charging us for this?" Lochlan asked.
Saxon snorted. "After having a gunfight on the premises and leaving fucking suicide fruit all over the grounds for people to eat? Not unless they want a lawsuit."
"That's good," Lochy said. They passed a resort employee carrying a bucket that smelled like bleach heading in the other direction. She didn't make eye contact with either of them.
"Hey, how'd that stuff get in the smoothie?" Lochy asked. "The, uh. Suicide fruit, or whatever. Did you find out?"
Saxon stopped walking and turned to look at him. "What do you mean, how'd it get in the smoothie? You picked it up off the ground or something, right?"
Lochy shook his head. "Why would I put some random fruit off the ground in my smoothie? I just made it like usual, the way you showed me."
What the fuck. Did the resort somehow contaminate their blender? When he saw Piper again, he was going to murder her for dragging them all to this shithole. Saxon started walking again, Lochlan falling in at his side. "Well, it got in there somehow," Saxon said. "The hospital said they see this all the time. They knew the antidote to give you right away."
They got to the villa, looking just as they'd left it, about a million years ago. Saxon went to open the door, and Lochy put a hand on his wrist to stop him. "Hey, Sax," he said quietly. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
Lochy's hand was soft and warm. Familiar. "You almost died," Saxon said, after too long a pause.
Lochy shrugged a little. "I guess, but before, you were, um. Pretty pissed off. I thought maybe you didn't like me anymore. After, you know."
In the chaos and stress of the last 24 hours—Lochlan almost dying, his father revealing that he was being arrested for financial crimes and that his family was now broke, a fucking gunfight, apparently—Saxon had managed to mostly avoid thinking about the thing that had seismically up-ended his life prior to all of that. But now it was back, rolling in like the tide.
His brother's hand, and Saxon arching up into it, and—
No. Fuck, no. He wasn't going to think about that again. Not ever again. He had been pissed off, and god, maybe he still was, but that topic was fucking radioactive. It was fucking Chernobyl. He wasn't going there.
"Loch, just go in," he said. "Let's not talk about that, okay?"
Lochlan's face closed off, and his hand fell away from Saxon's wrist. "Okay," he said. "Sorry."
Fuck, what did Lochlan even want from him? Saxon stomped into the villa ahead of his brother, going to find some blankets or some shit, because that's probably what you needed after you got poisoned and almost died. Not that he knew anything about that. Not that he knew any fucking thing at all, apparently.
Lochy stayed on the couch wrapped in a blanket for the rest of the afternoon. Saxon left a glass of water next to him, because the doctor at the hospital said it was important for him to keep drinking clean water. So, he gave him clean water. He was being a good brother.
"Where's Dad and Mom?" Lochy asked, not long after they got back. Saxon was staring into the fridge at the sparse contents, wondering what the hell they were going to eat later. He closed the fridge door and stared at Lochy. It was a pretty damning indictment of their family, actually, that his brother had woken up in a hospital bed after a near-death experience, got discharged, and got all the way back to their hotel before realizing that their parents weren't there.
"They're on the way home," Saxon said. "To North Carolina."
Lochy blinked. "They...left?" he asked.
"Hey," Saxon said, frowning. "Hey, I'm still here."
Lochy gave him a small smile. "Yeah," he said.
"It's not their fault, anyway," Saxon said, even though actually it kind of was. "Dad's getting arrested by the feds as soon as they land, and if they didn't leave on their scheduled flight, I guess he was going to be extradited or something. I don't fucking know."
Lochy sat up so abruptly that he nearly knocked his water glass over. Saxon darted over to catch it, thankful for the reflexes he'd honed playing lacrosse at Duke. "Jesus, be careful," he said.
"Did you say Dad's getting arrested?" Lochy said, his face white. "For what?"
"Shit, I forgot. You were unconscious when Mom told me," Saxon said. He scrubbed his hands over his face. "So, yeah. You know how he made us all put our phones away all week? That's because he didn't want us to find out he was in the news for securities fraud. I guess he was trying to make sure we had one last good vacation or some shit, I don't know."
Lochy's eyes were big and white. "Are you involved, Saxon?" he asked. "I mean...are they going to arrest you too?"
"What? No," Saxon said. "Of course not."
"You're always talking about how you and dad work really closely," Lochy said.
That had occurred to Saxon already. But the cold, naked truth was that he didn't actually do that much at his job. His dad gave him table scraps, but he wasn't involved in the big stuff. When it came down to it, everyone including the feds knew that Saxon was just a nepo baby, making big bucks for doing nothing important.
"Not that closely," Saxon said, distilling the last four years of his life into three pathetic words. "They're interested in him, not me."
Lochy nodded. "Okay," he said. He subsided back into his blanket, looking small and pale. "Sorry. About everything." He shot Saxon a cautious, sideways look that made it clear what he was referring to.
Saxon still wasn't ready to touch that. Radioactive. So he didn't say anything, and neither did Lochy, and it wasn't long before the silence got oppressive. "I'm gonna go outside for a while," Saxon said. Lochy shrugged a little and closed his eyes, looking tired, which—fine. That was fine. He just needed rest. They'd said that at the hospital.
Saxon grabbed a book and went outside to the pool. He checked his phone when he sat down. There were no new notifications from Mom or Dad or Piper. Granted, they had their own shit to deal with, but they should be wheels-down in the US by now, and he'd expected a call. A text. Something. He had the sudden, overwhelming urge to throw his phone right into the fucking pool. He repressed it; the phone was valuable, and he needed it.
He shot a glance through the glass doors of the villa. Lochy was slumped on the couch, paging through his book about tsunamis, the same thing he'd been reading all week. Saxon picked up his own book, one of the ones Chelsea had given him. Chelsea was something else he wasn't going to think about right now. He was pretty sure some of the stains they'd walked past earlier had been hers. She was sweet and pretty and kind, and her blood was in the soles of his shoes.
Saxon's heart pounded in his ears, and suddenly it was like there was a metal band tightening around his chest. He struggled to breathe, gasping for air. Shit, he was panicking. But no, no—fuck that, he was Saxon Ratliff, he didn't have panic attacks. He shot a furtive look around, but nobody was watching. He and Lochy were the only two people left at this fucking hellhole. So he spread his knees and put his head down between them, forcing deep breaths into his lungs. He wasn't going to think about Chelsea. Or the stains on the ground, or his dad getting arrested, or Lochy. Definitely not anything at all about Lochy.
After a few minutes, his chest loosened. He ran his hands through his hair, closed his eyes, turned his face upward to the sun.
Buddhism was supposed to be all about clearing out your thoughts, right? Well, he could use some of that. He had a metric fuckton of thoughts he'd like to clear out. He turned to where he'd dog-eared a page, and he started to read.
When you gain samadhi, the mind is not scattered, just as those who protect themselves from floods guard the levee.
Saxon read the passage, then re-read it. Those who protect themselves from floods. He'd told Lochy once that Buddhism was about being afraid of attachment, but...he read the passage again. Those who protect themselves from floods guard the levee. Maybe it wasn't about fearing attachment. Maybe it was about building your mind into something strong. Something that could withstand a flood.
His stomach rumbled, and he checked the time. The last food he'd had was from a hospital vending machine, several hours ago. They were going to have to eat. The only thing in the villa was some protein powder, and Saxon would rather set fire to that blender than let himself or Lochy drink anything out of it again. So, all right, Saxon would do some foraging. The resort restaurant was only a few minutes' walk away.
When he arrived, nobody was there—like, nobody. No guests, no staff, nothing. All the chairs were upside down on top of the tables, and there was a faint smell of floor cleaner overlaying the thick humidity of the surrounding jungle.
"Hello?" Saxon called. No answer.
He made his way to the kitchen doors and peered through them. It was dark inside, and the doors were unlocked, so Saxon let himself in. The kitchen was just as abandoned as the rest of the restaurant. "Hello?" he tried again. "You open?" His voice echoed in the empty space. "Guess not," he muttered. He found the light switches and flipped them on, revealing an expanse of stainless steel countertops and ranges, a couple of fridges, and what looked like a walk-in cooler. He'd been hoping to find fruit or bread or something, but it looked like they'd put everything away.
It would have been nice if they'd shown some of that commitment to food safety before poisoning his little brother.
But there had to be food there somewhere, so Saxon started searching. He started with the fridges. Most of the stuff in there looked like sauces or raw meat, which was useless, because he wasn't about to cook a fucking bucket of raw chicken.
But in the walk-in cooler, he hit paydirt. Against one of the walls, there was a stack of about 30 of the "gourmet picnic hampers" you could order for your villa. His mom had wanted to get one, but Dad talked her out of it, because he said they could just eat at the fucking restaurant like normal people. Saxon opened one to check it out; there were a couple of bottles of wine, some cloth napkins, and some wrapped sandwiches. A compartment in the bottom had fresh fruit, sticky rice, all kinds of other shit. Perfect. He rearranged the contents so he had two baskets that were full of just food. It was probably enough to get him and Lochy through at least a week, maybe more. Which was good, because he sure as fuck couldn't afford to pay for dinners here anymore.
The baskets were heavy, but he was strong enough to handle it. As he was hauling his loot back to the villa, he thought about Chelsea calling him soulless. Would someone without a soul have bothered to forage for supplies for his brother? No fucking way. His soul was just fine, thank you very much.
When he hauled the baskets into the villa, he set them triumphantly down on the kitchen table with a thump. "Got these at the restaurant," he said.
Lochy, who'd woken up at some point, uncurled himself from the couch, setting his book down. "Oh, that's good," he said, sounding unenthusiastic. "We'll probably need that."
"Probably?" Saxon asked. "Definitely. We need it now, dude. I'm fucking starving."
Lochy stood up, letting the blanket he'd been wrapped in fall off his shoulders. He stretched, averting his eyes from Saxon. "I'm not that hungry," he said. "I think I'm gonna go for a walk, actually."
Saxon frowned, irritated. "A walk where? It's almost dark. And you almost died earlier, in case you forgot. You need to build up your strength."
Lochy shrugged. "The ocean, I guess. I dunno. I'm feeling okay now. You don't have to worry about me, Saxon."
Saxon stared at him, but Lochy seemed to think that was the end of the conversation. He left the villa without saying anything more. He didn't take anything with him; he just wandered, hands in pockets and shoulders hunched, in the direction of the beach.
Saxon watched him go, brow furrowed. Maybe Lochy wasn't doing such a great job of guarding his own levee. And maybe that was a little bit Saxon's fault.
But fixing it meant talking about something Saxon couldn't talk about. He couldn't even think about it, because thinking about it meant remembering how he'd felt, how fucking good... No. He wasn't going there; he'd already decided. He'd leave Lochy alone and let him work things out. Lochy would be okay. They were both going to be okay.
The ocean was really peaceful. It was nice to be out of the villa and away from Saxon. Lochlan sat on the sand, just above the tide line, his legs crossed. A lotus position, Piper had told him. The distant sound of partygoers carried from way further down the beach, but up here near the White Lotus, there was just the regular crashing of waves and the cries of gulls. The sun was going down, and Lochlan wondered if he could just sleep here. It would be better than going back to the villa.
Saxon was being weirdly nice to him ever since he almost died, but Lochlan remembered the look on his face when they'd talked before breakfast that morning. The disgust, the way his mouth twisted into a sneer. And Saxon still wouldn't talk about it, which meant his feelings hadn't changed. Thinking about it made Lochlan want to shrivel up into himself, so he tried to turn his thoughts elsewhere. He wished he'd been able to go to more of the meditation classes at the Buddhist camp.
He wondered if they'd still take him in, now that he didn't have any money.
He'd been hurt at first when he found out that the rest of the family already left, but it was turning out to actually be really nice that they were gone. Kind of like turning off the volume on a too-loud TV set. He didn't even really care that much about Dad getting arrested, now that the surprise had worn off. He wasn't glad about it, but he wasn't upset either. He wasn't anything, really. He probably should be—it probably meant he wasn't going to go to Duke or Chapel Hill, and his whole life back home would be up-ended, and Mom was going to completely lose her shit. But all of that seemed really far away, and he just...didn't care.
A wave crashed down onto the shore, sending water swirling up around his legs. The tide was coming in. He'd have to move up the beach soon. He thought about tsunamis, the way the water receded beforehand to expose the sand, leaving all the sea creatures flopping around. And then the sea came roaring back, sweeping the earth clean.
He thought about Saxon. Saxon had liked what Lochlan did to him. He'd moaned and gasped, and he'd thrust up into Lochlan's hand. And he came so, so hard. It sent a shiver down Lochlan's spine just thinking about it, even though the memory was tainted by what had come afterward. Saxon had liked it, but he was disgusted that he'd liked it. He was disgusted by Lochlan.
Maybe at the Buddhist temple, they'd teach him how to excise the dark parts of his brain, how to scythe through them like a tsunami scything across the earth.
Saxon checked his phone and found a text message from Piper.
They're arresting Dad at the airport
Saxon texted back immediately: What the fuck?
No answer. He waited, but his message didn't even switch to read. And no word from Mom either. Jesus. He fucking really, really wanted to throw his phone at something, but he was broke now. Like, actually broke, poor people broke. If he destroyed his phone, he just wouldn't have a phone anymore. So instead he turned it off. Watching the logo dim into black was pretty satisfying, actually. He ran his hands through his hair, stood up, paced around the villa a few times. He thought about going to find Lochy.
But no, if Lochy wanted to go off on his own to get his head right, Saxon would let him. It was good for him, probably. He ate half a sandwich from the picnic hamper thing, and then he flung himself down on the couch where Lochy had been curled up all day. Lochy's book was right there, the one he'd been reading all week. He'd stuck a drink napkin in it as a bookmark. Saxon flipped to where his brother had left off.
Survivor accounts frequently focus on the power and force of the water. One woman said that it knocked her from her feet as though she were nothing more than a paper doll. Another man described trying to run from the impending waves and suddenly finding himself submerged, with no sense of direction.
"It was oddly peaceful," he said later in a TV interview. "I knew I was in danger, but somehow, it didn't bother me. I felt okay about it. I was going to be with my mother and father. All I would have to do is breathe in. Then, of course, I remember nothing further, until I woke up in a hospital the next day. I still often remember that feeling of peace, though. It was a feeling of surrendering to the waves."
Saxon frowned. He put the bookmark back and tossed the book onto the couch. Surrendering to the waves sounded like bullshit. You had to...build a levee. You had to be strong, so you could survive the waves. Not fucking surrender to them. He thought with disquiet about Lochy reading this shit and then walking to the ocean. He thought about how the hell a suicide fruit had got into his brother's smoothie. Fuck, maybe he should go after him.
Just then someone knocked sharply at the glass front door, and Saxon nearly jumped out of his skin. "Jesus fuck," he snapped, his heart hammering in his chest. He got up and found that it was a short Thai man wearing a khaki outfit and a gun holster. Saxon recognized him as the security guy, the one from the front gate. He was shading his hand with his eyes, peering inside.
Saxon opened the door. "What do you want?" he asked, which was probably rude, but he'd just had the shit scared out of him, so he felt entitled.
"You are a guest," the guy idiotically said, as though this were somehow surprising. His back was as ramrod-straight as a soldier's, which seemed excessive for a resort villa rent-a-cop.
"Yeah, genius. Who the fuck did you think I was?" Saxon asked.
"A looter," the guard told him. His posture got a little less right-angled. "I was not told you would still be here."
"My brother got sick," Saxon said. "We had to stay behind while he gets better." The guard lifted an eyebrow, looking around the inside of the villa. "He's on a walk," Saxon said. "Look, I cleared this with the manager guy, go talk to him if you don't believe me. I thought all of the staff had been sent home, anyway."
The guard shrugged. "They still need security. For looters. And we will reopen soon. As soon as Sritala has arranged the funeral and had her mourning period."
He eyed Saxon up and down, lifting an eyebrow. It felt weirdly judgmental, which—Saxon had had a long day, and he was emotionally on some pretty thin fucking ice. "What are you looking at?" he asked. "Do you not have someone else to go harass?"
The guard smiled slightly, bowing his head. "I apologize," he said. He turned to go, and then he paused. "Your father stole a gun from me, you know."
This was such a bizarre fucking non sequitur that for a minute, Saxon couldn't even make the words make sense. "What?" he asked stupidly.
"My gun," the guard said, patting it where it rested in his hip holster. "He stole it from the guardhouse. I saw him do it on the video footage. Then later I retrieved it from your villa when your family was away."
Saxon gaped. That made no sense. His dad wouldn't do something like that. Why would his dad do something like that? "I have no idea why you'd make something like that up," he said, "but I don't fucking appreciate it. I could report you."
The guard shrugged again. "I have no reason to make it up. And I have the video recordings as proof," he said. "Perhaps you should ask yourself what your father wanted with a gun."
And then he gave Saxon a cryptic half-smile and he walked away.
Saxon went outside to the pool, pacing around the perimeter of it. He had to move, had to get out his nervous energy, but he wanted to stay close to the villa in case Lochy came back. He wasn't going to go to the ocean, though. He didn't need to go looking for Lochy. Lochy was fine. His levee would hold.
Saxon couldn't stop thinking about what the fuckhead security guard had said. Why would he make something like that up?
The thing is, now that Saxon really thought about it, Dad had been acting weird all week. It had started with taking their phones, although that made more sense now that Saxon knew what was really going on. Dad didn't want them to find out about the federal charges while they were on their trip. Didn't want it to ruin what was probably going to be their last vacation.
Maybe it was more than just wanting to give them a good vacation, though. Maybe his dad just couldn't stand for the rest of them to know what he'd done. Which was stupid of him, if so; Saxon was well aware that not all of his father's business activities were strictly by the books. He'd actually been trying to get more involved in that side of things, before all of this came down.
He looked out to the sea. Out there on the water, there were fishing boats at work. He wondered what kind of a life that would be. Maybe it would be easier to be a Buddhist and empty your mind if all you had to worry about was how many fish you were going to catch in a day. But fuck, fishermen probably had political shit to worry about too. Who gets to fish in the good parts, who gets the best boats, who gets to sell to the good markets. There's always some angle, some advantage to be had. It was inescapable.
Saxon stopped his pacing, standing right over the spot where he'd found Lochy curled up and convulsing, vomiting that white shit up. He kept replaying the memory in his head. It was terrifying, and also it made no fucking sense. Saxon believed Lochy when he said he hadn't put the fruit in his own smoothie. Why would he? Saxon had showed him exactly how to make one, and Lochy did it the same way every time. He wasn't the type to go foraging for random fucking death fruit on the ground. So how did it get in the blender?
The last person to use the blender before Lochy had been their dad. He'd used it to make the smoothies with the bad coconut milk, the ones he'd hit out of their hands and sent flying, which had also been extremely fucking weird. At the time, Saxon had assumed he was just really stressed out.
So maybe Lochy had got some bad coconut milk. Except no, he didn't, because the Thai hospital hadn't said it was food poisoning, they'd said it was the goddamn suicide fruit, and they'd known exactly what antidote to give him, and the antidote worked. So the blender had suicide fruit in it. Which meant that someone had to put it there.
Which. Which meant.
Which meant that Dad had put it there. Nobody else had been in the villa. Nobody else had used the blender. It was Dad.
Saxon's knees went weak, which was something he previously hadn't thought happened in real life, and he sat down hard on one of the deck chairs.
Dad had put suicide fruit in the blender. Maybe he did it because he didn't have a gun anymore, because the asshole security guard came and stole it back. Maybe originally Dad was going to use a gun instead of poison fruit. Maybe Dad knew he was in deep shit and he couldn't fucking hack it, so he decided to take the rest of them out with him.
Saxon pressed his hands against his eyes. His heart pounded, blood rushing in his ears. It didn't feel possible; his dad couldn't do that. Wouldn't. It was crazy.
But he did do it. He had to have. Nothing else made sense.
"Jesus Christ," Saxon said in a choked-off voice. Dad had told Lochy not to have any. He'd spared his youngest son for some reason, except he hadn't cleaned out the goddamned blender afterward, and Lochy ended up drinking his poison anyway. Saxon thought of how Lochy had looked in his arms, limp and near-death. How he'd looked so bruised and pale in the hospital. "You fucking asshole," he said. The sun was dipping below the western horizon. The same direction as his dad, thousands of miles away. "You fucking asshole," he screamed. "What the fuck."
A flock of birds took off from the nearby trees. Saxon held his head in his hands. He didn't know what to do; there's no, like, playbook for how to handle it when your dad almost murders you and your entire family. But—fuck, he wasn't going to be like Dad. He wasn't going to crack. His levee would hold.
"Saxon? What are you doing?"
Saxon's head shot up. It was Lochy, trudging back from the ocean. He was fine, just like Saxon had known he would be. He let out a long, shaky breath.
"Nothing," Saxon said. "Literally nothing. Come on, let's go inside and eat."
Saxon started rummaging through the picnic hampers in the kitchen, pulling out sandwiches. "These don't look too bad. Protein, right?"
"Saxon, I don't know. I'm not hungry. I'm just really tired," Lochy said. He still looked pretty bad. He was slumped and pale, and he wouldn't make eye contact. "I think I might just go to bed."
"It's not even dark out yet," Saxon said, although that was almost a lie. There was only a sliver of sun left above the horizon. "Come on, you need to eat. You want a mango? Or I think there's some rice in here."
"Saxon, I'm not hungry."
"Well, you fucking need to eat," Saxon said, more sharply than he'd intended.
Lochy sighed. He shot a glance at Saxon's face. "Yeah, okay," he said, caving in. "Give me half of one of those sandwiches, I guess."
That was more like it. Saxon brought the sandwich over, and they ate together in silence, sitting together at the kitchen table. The satisfaction of getting Lochy to eat faded rapidly as Saxon watched him, mouth set in a grim line, eating his sandwich like it was his last fucking meal.
Saxon had taken for granted that Lochlan would always follow him around like a grateful puppy, hungry for the scraps of praise and approval Saxon gave him. He'd thought that was just the way things were and would always be. He'd liked it that way. Lochy idolized him, and he missed it.
Maybe Saxon shouldn't have liked it so much. He shouldn't have encouraged it. He'd set the wrong kind of example, got Lochy's wires all crossed.
He didn't know how to fix this. But Chelsea's book talked about making yourself an empty vessel. It said that when you rid yourself of your existing thoughts and feelings, it made space for other people. It had been a long fucking day and Saxon was already feeling pretty empty, so yeah, he might as well give that a try. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then exhaled it out. Emptied his mind. Emptied his heart. Pushed away his dad and mom and sister, pushed away the feds, pushed away Chelsea's blood on the pavement. Pushed away the feel of Lochy's strong, sure hands on his body.
Nothing left. All gone.
Time passed. The emptiness felt good. He stayed that way for a while—a few minutes? He wasn't sure. And then his brother's voice flooded in. "Saxon? Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said, his voice thick like he'd been asleep. "Just trying a thing from one of those books."
"Meditation?" Lochy asked.
"I guess," Saxon said. He didn't want to talk. He wanted to stay where everything was empty and quiet.
"Um, there's something I wanted to tell you about. If that's okay."
He'd been strengthening his levee. He could weather this storm. "Yeah," he made himself say. "Sure." He wasn't a quitter like their dad. Whatever this was, he could take it.
"It's about when I died," Lochy said, and Saxon's head shot up, because that's not what he thought this would be about.
"You mean when you almost died," he corrected.
Lochy shook his head, his eyes big and dark. "I died," he said. "I'm sure of it. There were all these people reaching out for me."
"People?" Saxon asked, cold prickles running down his skin. "What people?"
"I don't know. I couldn't see their faces. But they were all really nice, and they—they wanted me. They were so happy to see me. I wanted to be with them, Saxon. It felt so good." His voice hitched, and he dragged his arm across his eyes. "It felt really good," he repeated.
"You wanted to go with them?" Saxon asked. "You wanted to fucking die?"
"They wanted me," Lochy repeated, as though maybe Saxon hadn't heard him. "But then they went away, and everything got really bright and loud, and you were there."
Saxon's chest felt huge and hot and heavy. "Do you still want to—want to go with them?" he asked.
Lochy let out a soft sigh. "Sort of," he said. He looked down at his hands. "Anyway, I just wanted to tell you about it. I'm kinda tired now. I think I'm going to go to bed." He paused, like he was waiting for Saxon to say something, but Saxon couldn't think of a single thing to say. Lochy deflated a little, and he padded off to their bedroom while Saxon watched him go.
The thing about emptying your mind is that it left space for other things to creep in. Lochy was so tall and broad now. Not quite as tall and broad as Saxon, but getting close. Saxon had always liked how much Lochy looked like him. He'd been proud of it, like Lochy's sturdy good looks were a reflection of Saxon's own manhood.
Lochy liked looking at Saxon's body too. Saxon had known that for a long time. He'd known, and he'd fucking encouraged it—the watching, the adoration, the hero worship, all of it. He just hadn't thought it would lead to what happened on the full moon cruise.
But Jesus, was that even true? Maybe it was time for him to be actually honest with himself. Maybe Saxon had known exactly what Lochy's hero worship had been leading up to, and maybe he'd liked it. The tease of it. The excitement. Who wouldn't want to be someone else's idol? He'd loved the way Lochy looked at him. He'd craved it.
The door to their shared bedroom clicked softly closed. Chimpanzees chattered outside, and the last streaks of orange light faded from the room. Saxon stared blankly into the middle distance. He could just let it all go. He could let Lochy sleep this off and deal with it on his own terms. Lochy would learn that he had to rely on himself, because no one else in this world was going to look out for him. It'd be a solid life lesson. Mom and Dad sure as fuck weren't going to step up. You couldn't rely on girls. And that left...well, it left Saxon.
But he wasn't soulless. He wasn't. And cutting Lochy off from himself wasn't what he wanted, and it sure as fuck wasn't what Lochy wanted, and why shouldn't they both get something they wanted? Maybe they'd both had enough of harsh life lessons.
Lochy had reached out for death, welcoming it because it wanted him. But it hadn't taken him, because Saxon pulled him back. And that was exactly how it should be. If Lochy's levee was crumbling, Saxon would strengthen it. Saxon wasn't going to let him go again. No fucking way.
In the long shadows of evening, he rose from his chair and moved towards their bedroom.
When Saxon came in, Lochy was curled up on his side in bed, sheet pulled up to his chest, his bare shoulders visible.
"Saxon?" he asked. He blinked, surprised.
"Make room," Saxon said. He pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. Lochy flushed, and he cast his eyes down, looking away from Saxon's bare chest.
"Come on," Saxon said. "You don't have to be like that." He slid his shorts off, too, stripping down to his boxer briefs. His heart beat even and steady. This was right; he could feel it.
"I don't understand," Lochy said, still looking anywhere but at his brother.
"Jesus, it's not rocket science," Saxon said. "Move over and make room. I'm getting in." Lochy scrambled onto the other side, brow furrowed deeply. Saxon climbed in, making space for himself and turning onto his side, front-to-back with Lochy. Lochy would be the little spoon, except that he wasn't spooning. He was holding himself rigidly apart.
"Come on," Saxon urged. "It's all right. Jesus. We've shared a bed before." Not since middle school, granted, but still. He wrapped an arm around Lochy's middle and pulled him close, fitting them together. Lochy's body was hot and firm, pressed against his. He listened to Lochy breathing, felt his pulse beating in his throat. Smelled his clean sweat and the soap he used.
"Saxon," Lochy said in a half-strangled voice, "you're—you're kinda sending mixed messages."
Yeah, well, he'd emptied out his mind, so he didn't have to be logical or consistent. He could just do what felt right. And what felt right was this.
"You scared the shit out of me," Saxon said. "I want to feel you breathe." Lochy was still tense, rigid as a board against him, and Saxon sighed. "If you really don't like this, I'll go," he said. He wasn't going to fucking make Lochy lie there if he hated it. Maybe things between them really were broken beyond repair.
"No, it's okay," Lochy said softly. "You don't have to go." And then, finally, he let out a shuddering breath and relaxed into the embrace. Saxon tightened his grip, pulled him close.
They laid that way for a while, breathing together, Lochy tucked up against Saxon. It felt really good, lying here with Lochy, and part of Saxon wanted to just go to sleep and deal with everything else in the morning. But the specter of the full moon cruise hung over them, and he had to clear the air. There were things he needed to ask, and things he needed to say.
"I'm gonna ask you something," Saxon said. His lips were close to Lochy's ear, brushing against the fine fuzz there. Goosebumps rose up on the back of his neck.
"Okay," Lochy said.
"Why'd you do it?"
There was no question about what he meant. Lochy stiffened up again, going rigid in Saxon's arms. "You said we couldn't talk about this ever again," Lochy said. "You said—you said it didn't happen."
"Yeah," Saxon said. "I know what I said. But I'm asking now." There was a long silence, and Saxon added, "Please."
A shiver traveled through Lochy's body. "You never say please," he said. After a long pause, he said, "If you make fun of me about this, I don't think I can handle it, Saxon."
"I'm not going to make fun of you," Saxon promised. "I just want to know."
"You really don't," Lochy said. "You'll hate me. I mean, more than you already do."
Jesus. He'd been pissed off, yeah, but hate? "What the fuck. I don't hate you," Saxon said. "I could never fucking hate you. Get that out of your head right now."
Lochy went quiet and still. Saxon emptied his mind, letting everything flow out of it, just like Chelsea's book said. The open beach before the tsunami. He was ready. He wanted to know. He wanted Lochy to tell him. He breathed in, breathed out, in time with Lochy. Their lungs worked together. Their hearts worked together.
"I'm ready," he murmured, low and soft. "I'm ready." Like a mantra. "I'm ready, Loch."
"Yeah, I don't think you are, but god, okay. You really want to know?"
"Yes."
"I did it because I wanted to." There was a long pause. "That's it, that's the big reason. I just..." His voice broke. "I just really, really wanted to."
Heat swirled low in Saxon's belly. "Not because you're a pleaser and you'd do it for anybody?" he asked.
"I am a pleaser," Lochy admitted. "But I wouldn't have done it for anybody. Jesus, Saxon, you were like, teasing me all week. Showing off your body." The words flowed faster as Lochy warmed to his subject. "You jerked off where you knew I could hear you. And you looked so good that whole night, and the drugs made everything so much hotter...fuck, Saxon, I wanted you so bad. When we got back to the boat, I was hoping the girls would want us both at the same time, and then I'd get to see you naked. Maybe even touch you. It's all I could fucking think about."
He let out a horrible little sob. "Bet you're sorry you asked now."
Saxon wasn't sorry. He was half-hard. "You were watching me, huh?" Saxon asked, lips brushing against his brother's ear. "The whole night?"
"Yes," Lochy said, his voice trembling. "Your shirt was unbuttoned, so I could see your chest. I kept looking at it so much I thought you were going to notice, maybe give me shit about it."
"I didn't notice because you're always looking at me that way, Lochlan." Saxon pressed his hips forward against Lochy, grinding his erection against his ass. Lochy made a sweet little noise. "What else?" Saxon asked. "What else did you look at? What did you think about?"
"Saxon," Lochy said in a pleading voice.
"Tell me. Come on. It's okay." He snaked his hand over Lochy's bare stomach, splaying his fingers wide.
"I can't say it."
"You can say anything," Saxon said. "Tell me. I'm ready." His mind was open, ready to be filled. He rocked forward into Lochy again, pushing his hard cock against his brother. Lochy let out a moan, and Saxon nipped at his ear. "Tell me," he urged.
"You said—you said not to worship you," Lochy said. "But I do. I do worship you, okay? I fucking worship you. You're like, the only thing I think about most of the time. And I'm sorry, but I can't help it."
Why the fuck had he resisted this? Lochy was being so fucking good. So good for Saxon.
"It's all right," he breathed into Lochy's ear. The hair was standing up on Lochy's arms. "It's good. I just wasn't ready before."
Lochy shuddered. "Please don't fuck with me," he said. "I can't handle it. Please."
"I'm not fucking with you," Saxon said, thumbing at the fine hair of Lochy's belly. He felt high, but a clean high. Exhilarated. Flying. "You want to worship me? Tell me how. You must have thought about it."
He sucked a kiss into Lochy's throat, and Lochy let out a helpless little cry.
"Tell me," Saxon demanded.
"Want to put my mouth on you," Lochy blurted out. "God, I want it so bad."
The last shreds of Saxon's resistance burned away. If Lochy wanted to worship him, he'd take that. He'd fucking take that. "Where, Lochy? Where do you want to put your mouth?"
"Y-your cock," Lochy said. Saxon groaned. "Your cock, I wanted to put my mouth on your cock."
"You watched when Chloe sucked me off, didn't you?"
"Yeah," Lochy breathed. Saxon could feel his heart beating, rabbit-fast. Saxon's cock was so hard now. So fucking hard.
"You liked watching?"
"I liked seeing your cock," Lochy said. "I wished it was me on it instead of her."
Saxon sucked at Lochy's throat, grinding his hips forward. He was so fucking turned on. Lochy was hot and willing and he thought Saxon was the entire universe.
"That's kind of slutty, Loch," Saxon said. "I didn't know you were such a slut." Lochy sucked in a sharp hiss of air, and Saxon chuckled low. "Don't worry, I like it," he said. Saxon let his hand drift lower and found Lochy's hard cock waiting for him, thick and full. He wrapped his hand around it, returning the favor from three nights before. "You're big," he said. "Runs in the family, I guess. I think I'm a little bigger, though. What do you think, Loch? You've touched me. You should know."
"Oh god," Lochy gasped, jerking his hips forward.
"Come on. Who's bigger?" Saxon prodded.
"Unh—you, you're definitely bigger," Lochy said. He was breathing fast and hard, and his cock was starting to fucking leak.
"You like my big cock, huh?" Saxon was talking like he was in a porno, but Lochy was getting off on it, so who gave a fuck? "Yeah? You like it?"
"Uh-huh," Lochy moaned. He rocked his hips forward, pushing his cock in and out of Saxon's tight fist.
"You liked stroking me off, didn't you?"
"Yeah," Lochy gasped.
"I liked it too," Saxon breathed right into his ear. "I came so fucking hard I think I went blind for a minute. You know how fucked up it is that the best orgasm of my entire life was from my brother jerking me?"
"S-sorry," Lochy said, but his hard-on didn't flag.
"Nah," Saxon said. "It's all right. Just took me a couple of days to get my head on straight about it, that's all."
He'd had to almost lose Lochy. He'd had to rid himself of all the bullshit that was filling up his head before. He'd had to empty his mind, strengthen his levee. But he didn't know how to say any of that, so instead he let go of Lochy's hard cock, rolled onto his back, pulled Lochy on top of him, and dragged his mouth down to kiss him. Their second kiss, but this one was better, because Saxon wasn't holding back, and Lochy was making all kinds of frantic little noises like he couldn't believe this was happening.
After, Lochy looked at him with big, round eyes, his cheeks flushed, breathing fast.
"Here's what's going to happen," Saxon said. "You're going to suck my cock, just like you wanted to. I'm going to shoot in your mouth, and you're going to swallow it." Lochy gave him a jerky little nod. He was rubbing his cock against Saxon's belly, rutting against it like a dog. "And after that, you're gonna come all over me. Chest and belly. I want to fucking watch. You got that?"
Lochy's eyes were unfocused, and he barely managed a tight nod.
"Don't you fucking come yet," Saxon warned him. "Get your mouth on my cock."
"Yeah," Lochy gasped. "Yeah." And he scrambled his way down Saxon's body until he was nestled between Saxon's legs, his hot breath warming Saxon's cock. Fuck, that was his brother. Little Lochy. It was so goddamn wrong, but he just didn't care. Lochy wanted this so fucking bad. It was like Saxon was his god.
And fuck, fuck, he was already hot for this, but—the thought of Lochy on his knees for him, like a worshiper, like he was praying to Saxon...
"Fuck, yes," he moaned, as the warm, wet heat of Lochy's mouth enveloped the head of his cock. "Yeah. Yeah, that's good, that's really good."
He was too big for Lochy to take his full length, but Lochy used his clever fucking hands to work Saxon's shaft while he licked and sucked the head. It felt fucking incredible. He looked down, watching Lochy's curls bobbing up and down, watching his own cockhead popping in and out of those wet lips. It was fucking insane. It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen in his life.
"Oh god," he moaned, grabbing on to Lochy's head. "Not gonna last." Lochy cupped his balls with the palm of his hand and stroked his shaft with the other hand, and he never stopped suckling at the head. How was he so good at this, it was fucking—it was so—
"Lochlan, fuck," he gritted out, tightening his hands in his brother's hair while he came and came and fucking came.
Afterward, he was panting, his heart rate coming down from the stratosphere, and Lochy wiped his mouth and scrambled up to straddle Saxon's body on his knees. "Can I now?" he pleaded, his cock in his own hand. "Please."
Saxon felt like a king, like a god, like he'd just conquered the world. "Do it," Saxon said. "Do it on me."
Lochy's hand worked over his stiff cock, speeding into a blur, and only seconds later, he curled in on himself, gasping and convulsing, while he shot fucking everywhere. There was so much, and it just kept coming, painting Saxon's chest and belly with thick ropes. "Jesus Christ, Lochy," he said, but Lochy was gone, eyes unfocused, hips bucking forward into his fist.
After, Lochy curled into Saxon's side, and Saxon wrapped an arm around him. "I was good?" Lochy mumbled, muffled into Saxon's chest. "You liked it?"
He was the only one their dad would have spared. He was the best of all of them. "You were good," Saxon said. "So fucking good."
Lochy made a pleased noise, and then his breathing got slow and regular as he drifted into sleep.
Lochlan woke up feeling good. The memory of the night before sat warm and snug in his chest. He reached out an arm, but Saxon's side of the bed was empty. It was still warm from his body, though, and Lochlan let himself indulge in moving over into the warm spot, smelling Saxon's hair gel on the pillow.
He heard his brother's voice out on the balcony, muffled through the sliding glass doors. He sounded all pinched-off and professional, like when he was talking to people at work. Lochlan couldn't make out most of the words, but that was okay. He drowsed in Saxon's scent and heat, letting the sound of his voice wash over him. Saxon came into view as he paced back and forth, wearing boxer briefs and nothing else. His body was lean and muscular and perfect. Lochlan had always liked looking at him, except now he was allowed, and that made it so much better. He wondered if Saxon had showered this morning. Probably he hadn't. Probably Lochlan's come was still on him.
His cock stirred as he thought about it. He'd made Saxon come yesterday, too. Really hard, harder even than he came on the boat. And this time, Saxon had asked for it. He'd wanted it. Lochlan didn't know what had changed, but he wasn't going to question it too closely. Not when he was getting something he'd wanted so much for so long.
The federal agent on the phone sounded bored and tired, right up until the point that Saxon said yes.
"I'm sorry, did you say—hold on, please." There was the sound of typing and the rustling of papers. The agent, a man with a faint Southern accent who introduced himself as Agent Abernathy, had cold-called Saxon that morning, clearly not expecting Saxon to actually want to talk to him. And yeah, Saxon had actually only answered because he thought there was a chance the unknown number was his mom or sister calling from a new phone. Instead it was Agent Abernathy, wanting to know if he could ask Saxon a few questions.
And Saxon said yes. While he waited for Abernathy to figure out his fucking paperwork, Saxon looked through the glass balcony door to where Lochy was splayed out in bed, the blankets twisted around his waist, the bare curve of his hip visible. He was naked under the sheets, just the way Saxon had left him.
He thought about how Lochy had looked last night, mouth wrapped around his cock, big eyes staring up at him. He'd got off on sucking Saxon's cock so fucking much. Saxon could make him do it again. He could make him do just about anything, probably.
Telling Lochy to stop worshiping him had been one of the stupidest things Saxon ever did. He understood that now. Lochlan's halting explanation about how he was a people pleaser had been only a partial truth. He was a pleaser, sure, but what he wanted the most was to please Saxon. Saxon was his role model, his idol. And now that Saxon had had some time to process it, he didn't have a problem with that. He liked it. He fucking needed it. It fueled him—fueled them both. It made them strong.
Last night, Lochy had worshiped Saxon on his knees, and he'd do it again any time Saxon wanted. Saxon watched him sleeping naked in their shared bed. His cock was just starting to fill out when the agent came back on the phone.
"Sorry about that," he said. "I'm, ah, obliged to inform you that I am recording this conversation and that anything you say can and likely will be used in a court of law."
Saxon turned away from the distracting sight of his brother. "Yeah, I figured that," he said. "So are you asking about what I've done, or about what my dad did? Like, let's cut the shit here, Abernathy. How much trouble am I personally in?"
There was a brief pause. "I can't make any guarantees," Abernathy told him.
"Understood."
"But you are not currently being considered for charges. Your father, however, has been charged with a variety of financial crimes, including but not limited to money laundering, insider trading, and tax evasion. I understand that you worked closely with him, and that work is what I'd like to ask you about."
Saxon had some answers. Dad wasn't great at what the corporate training manual referred to as "phone hygiene." And Saxon was good at eavesdropping.
"And if I tell you anything, you'll use it against him in court?" Saxon asked.
There was a pause. "Not to mince words, but most probably yes," Abernathy sighed, tapping what sounded like a ballpoint pen against his desk. "Are you still willing to answer my questions?"
His dad was the foundation around which his entire life had been built. His model for success. Fuck, his model for manhood. His dad was what he wanted to be; his dad was what everyone wanted to be.
Saxon turned back to Lochy, who was awake now, watching him with sleepy eyes. Of course Lochy was watching him. Lochy was always fucking watching him. Because Saxon was Lochy's model. Saxon was what Lochy thought a man should be.
God, Saxon loved him. It crashed over him like a breaking wave. He loved him. He loved Lochy's worshipful gaze and his eager mouth and his hot little body. And he'd almost lost all of it when their father had cracked under pressure like a cheap phone and decided that if he was going down, he was going to take the rest of his family with him. He'd almost goddamn succeeded in taking out Lochlan.
"Yes," Saxon said. "I am."
"Okay—ah, okay, great. And if requested, would you be willing to testify in court?"
"Sure," Saxon said. "Whatever you guys want. I'll tell you everything I know."
Saxon turned off his phone after he was done talking to Abernathy. There was nobody he particularly wanted to hear from. He let himself back into the villa, closing the sliding glass door behind him with a quiet click.
"Who was that? Mom?" Lochy asked, his eyes drifting down Saxon's bare chest.
"No," Saxon said. "Work stuff. Don't worry about it." He'd tell Lochy later. There were other things they needed to do first. "Go brush your teeth," he said.
Lochy frowned. "You worried about my dental health or something?"
"Go brush your teeth," Saxon said again. "And then come back. Go on, do it."
Still giving him a skeptical look, Lochy pushed the sheets away from himself and rolled out of bed. Saxon let himself admire his brother's body, lean and muscular, so similar to his own. Lochy's cock was nice too, a good size, currently half-hard between his legs.
"Okay," Lochy said, "but I'm not just doing it because you told me to."
"Yes, you are," Saxon said. "Now hurry up."
When Lochy came back from the bathroom, he'd put on a pair of boxer shorts on that weren't doing a lot to hide his hard-on. Saxon glanced down at the sizable tent he was pitching, lifting an eyebrow, and Lochy flushed pink.
"I did what you said," he said.
Saxon nodded. "You like doing what I say, don't you?" he asked. Lochy gave him an uncertain look. "Don't you?" he prompted. "A pleaser, right? That's what you said?"
A shadow crossed Lochy's face. "Don't make fun of me?" he asked softly. Saxon thought again about the near-death experience he'd described, with the people reaching for him. The people who wanted him.
"I'm not," Saxon said. "Promise. Come here."
Lochy looked skeptical, but he was on Saxon's leash, so he obeyed. But Saxon could be a benevolent master. He put his hands on Lochy's bare shoulders, sliding one of his hands around the back of his neck. Lochy's pulse was fast, and his skin was warm. He smelled faintly of mint.
Saxon met Lochy's eyes. "How long ago did you first want me?" he asked.
Lochy flinched away, but Saxon's grip was firm. "Hey," he said. "I told you I wasn't making fun of you."
"Saxon, I don't know what you want," Lochy said, his eyes pleading.
Saxon kneaded the back of Lochy's neck gently. "Just be honest," he said. "When you kissed me the night of the full moon party, you obviously wanted it. You were fucking eager for it, Lochy. You'd thought about it before. So how long?"
Lochy's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. "Um. Please don't hate me."
Saxon pulled him closer, sliding his other arm around Lochy's waist. "I'm not going to hate you. Answer the fucking question, Loch." But he said it gently, easily, soothing Lochy like a spooked horse.
"Like... two years?"
Saxon's cock swelled in response to his confession. Two fucking years of watching and wanting. "That's a long time," he said.
"You brought home a girl over Christmas break two years ago," Lochy said. "You waited until everyone was gone to fuck her, except I was still home, and your door was open, so I watched. I liked it." He stared defiantly into Saxon's eyes. "I really liked it. And then you came, and that was so hot, and later on I thought about, what if I could make you come like that. I tried not to think about it, but..." He trailed off helplessly.
Saxon wet his lips with his tongue. "I knew you were watching me," he said. He remembered exactly the time Lochy was talking about. He'd brought his girlfriend home, assured her there was nobody else there. But Saxon had known it was a lie. "I left the door open hoping you'd see."
Lochy's eyes widened. "You—why?" he asked.
"Because it was hot," Saxon said. "Knowing you were watching me fuck was so hot. I came like a goddamn freight train. I didn't even like that girl. Didn't fucking matter, because you were there."
They were so close to each other now that Saxon could feel Lochy's hot breath on his face.
"Come on, Lochy," Saxon said. "Take what you want." Lochy's eyes went big and wide, but after only a second's hesitation, he did what Saxon told him, pressing his lips to Saxon's, slipping his tongue into Saxon's mouth. He was a good kisser. His tongue was light and agile, and he kept up a nice rhythm with it. It gave Saxon a surge of pride, knowing Lochy was good at this.
When they finally pulled apart, Lochy's cheeks were pink and he was breathing fast, his eyes unfocused. His cock was full and hard, pressing against Saxon's stomach. And Saxon's mind was beautifully, perfectly empty of everything but this. His parents and his job and the feds and the money and all of that bullshit faded into silence, leaving nothing but his own beating heart and his brother's upturned face.
"Lochlan," he said, the words flowing like water, "you said you wanted to go with those people because they wanted you."
Lochlan nodded, the tiniest movement of his head.
Saxon tightened his grip on the back of his brother's neck. "Okay. I want you to listen to me. Are you listening?"
Lochy nodded. "Yeah," he breathed.
"You're not going with them," Saxon said. "You're staying right here, because I want you. I want you, Lochy. Do you get that?"
Lochy nodded again, more vehemently. "Yeah. Yes," he said. "I get it." His eyes were wet and shining.
Saxon kissed him again, quick this time, with just a little tongue. He kissed along Lochy's jawline too, nuzzling into his ear, enjoying the way Lochy's hips jerked forward into him. "You want me to fuck you, don't you?" he said.
Lochy made a strangled gasping noise. "Yeah," he said, rutting his cock into Saxon's stomach. God, he was so eager for it. He wanted Saxon so fucking bad.
"I'm going to," Saxon said. "I'm going to fuck you." He took a long, deep breath to calm himself. "Get those shorts off and bend over the bed."
Saxon went to rummage through his toiletries bag. He never traveled without a little bottle of lube, and luckily he hadn't used it all up jerking off. He grabbed it and turned back around to see that Lochy had done as he'd been told. He was bare and bent over the bed, the long planes of his back stretched out across the mattress, his ass upturned.
"Jesus fucking Christ, you look good," Saxon said with feeling. Lochy looked over his shoulder, his curls framing his face. His cock was full and thick, pressed against the mattress between his spread legs. It was big, with a nice curve to it, just like Saxon's. Girls would love that cock.
If he ever let Lochy fuck a girl again, that is. The thought arrived like a punch to the solar plexus, leaving him breathless: he could keep Lochy all to himself. Maybe let him fuck girls occasionally when Saxon was with him, like on the full moon cruise. Lochy wouldn't mind. He'd probably get off on it. Saxon squeezed his own cock, breathing out a shuddering sigh of pleasure.
"I'm gonna lube you up," he told Lochy.
"Okay," Lochy said, his voice cracking.
Saxon had no idea what the fuck he was doing. His porn viewing habits didn't typically run in this direction. But he knew the basic concept. He had to get Lochy wet, so he dumped about half of the little bottle of lube over his brother's hole and used his index and middle finger to work it in. Lochy started squirming and making soft little punched-out noises, like even just this was so good he could hardly stand it.
"You do this to yourself, Loch?" Saxon asked, pumping his fingers in and out to work the lube in deep. "Huh?"
"Sometimes," Lochy gasped. "Yeah." His fingers curled around the edges of the blanket he was lying on.
Saxon wanted to put his cock in Lochy so fucking bad. He felt so hot and tight inside, it was insane. He slicked more lube over himself and then lined up his cockhead with Lochy's hole. "I'm gonna do it," he said. "I'm gonna put it in you."
"Please," Lochy whimpered. "I want it, Saxon—oh, god." Saxon pushed the head of his cock forward, watching as Lochy's tight little hole swallowed it up. The grip was so fucking tight. Lochy arched his back, lifting himself up off the bed, but Saxon pushed him back down with a hand in the middle of his back.
"How's that feel?" Saxon panted. "You like that?"
"You're so big," Lochy wailed. Saxon pushed in deeper. Lochy's hole was so fucking slippery and tight. He wanted to fuck himself all the way in.
"Does it hurt?" he asked. "Can you take more?"
"I can take more," Lochy begged. "I'm good, I can take all of it, please. Please, I want it."
And fuck, Saxon wasn't superhuman. With a grunt, he shoved himself deep inside, burying his cock inside Lochy's tight little ass. It felt fucking insane. He looked down at where his cock went in, stretching Lochy's rim. He pulled out a little, then thrust back in. Lochy was squirming under him, just enough to make it good, squeezing his ass around Saxon's cock.
"Oh god," Lochy gasped, "oh, I'm gonna—"
"You're gonna what?" Saxon panted, "You're gonna come? You're gonna come while my cock's all the way up you? You gonna be a good fucking boy, Lochy?"
With a high-pitched wail, Lochy clenched down hard on Saxon's cock and spurted all over the place, jerking and twisting, coming his brains out.
"Oh fuck," Saxon moaned. He wanted to draw this out and make it last, but he couldn't, there was no way, they'd just have to do it again, and again, and again.
"Come inside me," Lochy begged, and that was it, game over. Saxon made a guttural noise as orgasm knifed through him. He jammed his cock into Lochy all the way to the hilt, filling him up just like he'd wanted.
Mine, Saxon thought, the only word left to him. Mine, mine, mine.
They drowsed together for a while, but eventually the rising heat of the Thai morning made Saxon want to shower off. He was sweaty and sticky with his and Lochy's sweat and come, and there was something a little bit hot about that, but he definitely needed to clean up. He dropped a kiss onto Lochy's bare shoulder. "Gonna shower," he said. And then, a thought occurring to him, he said, "You should read that book."
"The tsunami one?" Lochy asked, sounding half-asleep.
"What? No, haven't you already read that one like, twice by now? The Buddhism one that I got from Chelsea."
Lochy rolled over to look at Saxon quizzically. "You said you thought Buddhism was bullshit," he said.
"Yeah, well, I said a lot of stupid stuff," Saxon said. "And I'm not saying it's all good, but...there's some interesting stuff in there. You should read it."
"Okay," Lochy said simply. He scratched at his belly idly, pushing the sheet down past his hip in the process. Saxon eyed him over, deciding that one of the things he'd been wrong about was Lochy needing to bulk up. He was perfect like he was.
"We're so fucking hot," Saxon said with satisfaction, looking over his brother's body. "Okay, read your book, I'll be back in a few."
Lochlan closed his eyes, listening to the shower run. He was sore in a good way. Saxon had used him hard, exactly how Lochlan had wanted it. He still couldn't quite believe it had happened.
He'd surrendered himself to the tsunami, and it had borne him away to new shores.
Satisfaction glowed inside him. He felt so good, so right. It was maybe the first time in his life he'd been truly happy.
When Saxon got out of the shower, towel knotted around his waist, Lochy was reaching for his phone.
"Brace yourself," Saxon said.
Lochy shot him a raised eyebrow, and Saxon said, "You've had your notifications turned off, right?"
"Yeah," Lochy said. "It's been on silent ever since—uh, holy shit?" He frowned, looking at the screen. "I have like a million new messages. Mostly from Mom and Piper. Mom seems pissed." He read through a few, scrolling. "She wants you to call."
"I bet," Saxon said. "This morning I told the feds I'd testify against Dad."
Lochy's eyes went wide and he sat up in bed, the sheets pooling around his hips. "You what?"
"I'll explain," Saxon said. "There's some stuff you don't know yet."
"Mom says tell you not to bother to come home if you're going to do this to your family," Lochy said, reading from the screen. "Uh, Saxon. What the fuck are we going to do?"
The "we" was gratifying. "Well, we're not going home," he said. "No fucking way am I letting you back into that pit of vipers. You're going to move in to my apartment and we're gonna figure things out, Loch."
Lochy stared.
"If that's what you want, I mean," Saxon said.
Lochy's lip was trembling, and his face looked like—like Saxon had just given him his heart's deepest desire. Like Saxon had just given him fucking everything.
"Yeah," he whispered. "That's what I want."
"This is gonna be a goddamned mess," Saxon said, "but I told you before, I'm not fucking letting you go. It's not happening. So where I go, you go. My levee is your levee. We stand together. You understand?"
"I understand," Lochy said. "I understand everything, Saxon."
Saxon smirked. "Of course you do," he said. "You're my brother."