Chapter 51 SANDWICHED
Eli’s POV
The car is too small.
That’s the first thing I think, even though it’s not. It’s a luxury sedan with legroom meant for men like them, men who don’t fold into themselves, men who don’t feel like they’re about to crawl out of their own skin.
I’m sitting between Julian and Anton in the back seat, my knees pulled in just slightly, my hands clasped together like if I let go of them, something irreversible might happen.
The driver doesn’t say a word. Of course he doesn’t. He never does. The partition is up, the world cut off, and it’s just the three of us trapped in a moving box after what happened in that office.
I stare straight ahead and wish, honestly wish, that an asteroid would hit the city. Something big. Biblical. Something that would excuse the way my heart is pounding like I just committed a crime and enjoyed it.
I want a fucking apocalypse to get me out of this intensely gay situation that I got myself into.
Julian’s thigh is warm against mine. Not pressing. Just there. Like he’s reminding me of gravity.
Anton is on my other side, relaxed, infuriatingly so. One arm stretched along the back of the seat, his presence heavy without effort. He smells the same as always; clean, sharp, and very familiar… and that somehow makes everything worse.
I don’t know how to think anymore.
I don’t even know who I am thinking as; as Eli or as a really gay boy who just swallowed his husband's cum like a pro.
I fucking sucked Julian's cock while Anton encouraged me and I… liked it?
I keep replaying flashes instead of a full memory. A look. A breath too close. A voice in my ear that did things to my spine I don’t have language for. I don’t know when fear twisted into heat, when shame started tasting like something I wanted more of.
I should be terrified.
I am terrified.
So why does my body keep betraying me?
Why does the memory of Julian’s hands grabbing a fistful of my hair make my stomach flip instead of drop?
Why does Anton’s voice still echo in my head like a command I haven’t finished obeying?
I swallow and squeeze my hands tighter.
I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t plan it. I didn’t wake up one morning and decide to want two men who could ruin me without blinking.
Two men I should be plotting an escape from.
Instead, I kissed them… and sucked one off.
Instead, I crossed lines I didn’t even know existed until I stepped over them and felt… steady. Anchored.
That’s the worst part.
I liked it.
God, I liked it.
The car slows, and I don’t register it at first. My thoughts are too loud, overlapping, panicking. I’m halfway through convincing myself I can still fix this, y'know still apologize my way back into normalcy, when the car stops completely.
The door opens.
Cool air rushes in.
Before I can react, Anton’s hand is on me.
“Come on,” he says, like I’m already his responsibility.
He lifts me and for a second my feet leave the ground and my brain short-circuits entirely. I grab at his jacket out of pure instinct, mortified by how natural it feels to let him carry me like this.
Julian is already out of the car, watching us with an expression I can’t read and don’t want to try.
Anton sets me down inside like I weigh nothing.
I want to disappear.
I want a closet, a locked bathroom, a hole in the floor; anywhere I can hide until I figure out when exactly my life split into a before and an after.
I follow them through the house on autopilot.
Two psychos, my mind supplies weakly. That’s what they are. That’s what I should keep remembering.
Except my body doesn’t flinch around them.
Except my chest doesn’t tighten the way it does around real danger.
Except I don’t feel small, I feel contained.
That realization makes me sick with myself.
Dinner was hell.
Not because anyone says anything wrong, but because no one says the right thing.
We talk about nothing. Weather. Logistics. A meeting Julian has tomorrow. Anton’s dry commentary on a card game he wants to play later.
No one mentions what happened at the office.
No one mentions the tension stretching so tight it feels like it might snap and cut me open.
I chew, swallow, nod when spoken to. I focus on keeping my breathing even, on not staring at Julian’s mouth, on not remembering the way Anton watched us like he was cataloging a moment he planned to revisit.
My appetite is gone, but I force the food down anyway. Normal people eat dinner. Normal people don’t unravel at the table because they realized they’re attracted to their husband and the man who keeps him from turning into a monster.
Afterward, I escape to the bathroom just to stand under running water longer than necessary.
I look at myself in the mirror and don’t recognize the person staring back.
My eyes look darker. My mouth feels like it belongs to someone reckless.
I press my palms to the sink and whisper, “Get it together,” like that’s something I can still do.
Anton suggests playing cards. I don’t argue. I don’t trust myself to say no.
We sit on the couch. Close. Too close.
My head starts to feel light halfway through the game, thoughts blurring together into one long, buzzing thread of what did I do, what did I do, what did I do.
“I’m tired,” I say finally, standing too fast. “I think I need to lie down.”
They exchange a look.
Of course they do. They're probably plotting something.
“I’ll walk you,” Anton says.
Julian doesn’t object, he actually follows.
That silence is louder than any argument.
I crawl into bed fully clothed, pulling the covers up like armor. I expect them to leave.
They don’t.
The mattress dips on one side. Then the other.
I’m trapped between them, heat on both sides, nowhere to roll without touching skin.
I stare at the ceiling and focus on breathing.
In. Out.
In. Out.
My brain won’t shut up.
I think about how wrong this is. How complicated. How dangerous.
I think about how I should regret it.
And then, traitorously, I think about how safe I feel right now. How steady Julian’s presence is. How Anton’s arm rests behind my head like a guardrail.
I don’t know when my life became this.
I don’t know how I went from afraid to wanting to stay.
All I know is that I’m awake, sandwiched between two men who could destroy me or probably turn me into their gay cock sucker or something… but I don't even feel terrible about it. Not even an ounce of disgust or repulse. I particularly like when they looked at me and called me a good boy. I loved how that sounded.
That realization terrifies me more than anything else.