So . . . these boys are pretty damn bossy and have been plucking at me. Of course, it might be because their deepest admirer, harrytwifan, likes to fill my inbox with pictures that remind her of her favorite boys.

This isn't beta'd, so all mistakes are mine and I freely own them. I don't own Emmett and Jake, but the idea of them together causes delightful shivers down my spine. Also, this fic is purely incidental – updates will occur whenever the boys want to say "Hi!"


Chapter Three

Moving my stuff to Emmett's place proved to be a fairly easy task. My apartment was small, most of my furniture secondhand, so I chucked the lot of it. By the time I finished sorting everything else out and donating my discards to Goodwill, I was left with a dozen or so boxes. They easily fit in Emmett's Jeep, leaving only my butt ugly, chocolate brown microfiber beanbag chair. It was huge, easily large enough for two people, and made the perfect place to lounge when playing video games.

The first time Emmett had visited my apartment, after we'd spent that day and a half snowed in at his; he'd declared it the ugliest thing he'd ever seen. I'd pretended to be hurt by his insults to my chair, but in all honesty, I couldn't argue with his assertion. Nonetheless, so long as I could manage to hold a controller and haul my ass off the floor after sitting in it, I wasn't giving up the best gaming tool known to man.

"You're not really keeping that thing are you?" asked Emmett when I hauled it down the stairs to load into my Celica.

Shoving the monstrosity into the car, I slammed the door and retorted, "Don't be hating on the chair. It's fucking amazing. If you're really lucky, I might let you try it out one night while I'm kicking your ass at Madden."

Emmett wrapped his fingers in the belt loops of my jeans and pulled me closer. "You will never beat me at Madden," he taunted. I didn't miss the challenge in his sparkling blue eyes, the hint of laughter in his cocky smirk. His voice dropped to a husky murmur, "I'm a genius when it comes to penetration." He punctuated the innuendo with a slight thrust of his hips, before slanting his mouth over mine.

My lips parted to the seeking sweep of his tongue and I let his comment slide, instead relishing the feel of his warmth pressing into me. Chicago in early March was still damp and chilly and Emmett provided the perfect shelter from the brisk wind blowing off the lake. Our interlude was interrupted by the sounds of coughing and a haughty voice.

"Well, I never—."

Emmett groaned when I broke the kiss to glare at the woman who lived in the apartment at the opposite end of the hall from me.

"I'm moving out, Mrs. Turner, so you won't ever again, either," I retorted, stepping around Emmett to move to the driver's side of my car, but not before brushing another kiss across his pouting lips. "I'll see you at home, babe."

My words brought a broad smile to Emmett's face, bringing his dimples out to play, like I'd hoped they would.

"Yep, our home." He smacked me on the ass and took off running toward the Jeep, sliding across the slick parking lot still banked with snow. Pulling himself into the driver's seat by the roll bar, he yelled back toward me, "Last one there does laundry for a month."

Laughing, I coaxed my Celica to life. I'd bought it used while still in high school, and my dad and I had refurbished it together. The odometer was pushing close to two hundred thousand miles, and I needed to replace the battered old car, but I'd been in no hurry to part with the last vestige of my youth. When it spluttered and stalled at the first traffic light, I worried later had become sooner, but the engine kicked back over the minute I turned the key in the ignition again. Offering words of encouragement to the old girl, I coerced it into finishing the trip to Emmett's condo.

I passed where Emmett had parked near the curb to unload, and found an empty space in the lot. The car knocked and pinged, shuddering to a stop once I turned off the engine. While I dragged the beanbag chair out of the backseat, I started a mental inventory of what I wanted in a new car. Functional – obviously, practical given I lived in the city, sturdy enough to make the trips out to my parents in the winter, but not cost me a fortune in gas.

Eyeing up Emmett's Jeep while I strolled toward it, I assessed it with my criteria in mind. The Jeep was an absolute beast, designed to handle the active, outdoorsy lifestyle Emmett enjoyed – one I couldn't wait to be a part of come summertime. Did I want a car that big? Did I really need one, especially if we had Emmett's? I could lean toward something more practical in the city that we could use every day, and we'd have the Jeep for fun stuff.

Just thinking like that brought into focus how much Emmett and I had already begun integrating our lives. I found a certain amount of comfort in it, not the panic I had expected to feel when I finally found someone I wanted to spend my life with. A snowball hitting me in the chest brought me out of my introspection, and I looked up to see him standing at the rear hatch, balancing a stack of boxes.

"Hey, stud, this shit ain't carrying itself upstairs! Get over here and give me a hand." Emmett tempered his words with the audacious wink that I'd been a sucker for from the first time he shot me one at the laundromat.

I snagged a box off the top of his pile. "In case you hadn't noticed, I only have one free hand, babe," I shot back, bumping into him with my shoulder. "And why the hell do you feel it's necessary to hit me with a snowball every time we're in this parking lot?"

Leaning the boxes against the bumper, he pulled down the hatch and triggered the lock, the lights blinking in response. "It's simple," he paused, hefting the pile of boxes again, "I like to see you wet." He walked away, whistling Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, leaving me standing on the curb, speechless.

Snapping out of it, I hustled after him into the condo lobby, catching up with him at the elevators. "Smartass," I muttered under my breath, mindful of the young woman with a small child also waiting for the car to arrive.

Emmett looked over at me, then leaned around the boxes to bring his mouth closer to my ear. "Yeah, but you love my smart ass," he whispered, his warm breath teasing across my skin and sending a shiver down my spine.

My rejoinder was stopped by the arrival of the elevator. Stepping to the side, I leaned against the door and allowed the woman and her son to board first, then followed Emmett inside. Dropping the beanbag, I kicked it back to the corner and pushed the button for our floor, noting the other passengers would be getting out two floors before we did. Taking a step back, I saw the little boy eyeing up the chair.

"That's cool!" He grinned, revealing a gap-toothed smile, where he'd already lost a few teeth. Based on my knowledge of kids, courtesy of my sisters, I figured him to be about six or seven years old.

"Yeah, it's pretty great, especially for playing video games," I offered, returning his smile.

"You play video games?" he exclaimed. "What's your favorite? I like Monster Jam Madness; I can crush trucks!"

Charmed by his easy nature, and his mother's willingness to let him talk to me, I squatted down to his level and introduced myself, getting his name, Brady, in return. We spent the next couple minutes debating the merits of various video systems, until we arrived at his floor.

"Bye Jake!" Brady waved from the hallway while the doors slowly slid closed. "We havta play football sometime!

Grinning, I turned my attention back to my boyfriend who was leaning against the back wall of the car – a strange wistful look in his eyes. He had set the boxes on the floor when we stepped in the elevator, and I took advantage of his empty hands to step closer, sensing he needed me to. Emmett brought his hands to rest on my hips, our eyes level. He leaned forward and I met him halfway, his kiss filled with tenderness, instead of the passion from earlier.

When I lifted my head to breathe, I searched his eyes. "You okay, babe?"

"Who, me? Yeah, I'm fine."

The elevator jarred to a stop, forcing us to step away from each other and gather up the boxes. I slung the beanbag chair over my shoulder and leaned against the sliding door until Emmett had cleared it, then double-stepped down the hall to catch up to him at the condo door. Dropping the chair again, I dug my keys out of my pocket and unlocked it, holding it open while he muscled his way through with the boxes. I kicked the chair through in front of me, following Emmett into the spare bedroom.

Once we had the first load stacked against the wall, we made another trip down in the elevator to gather the rest. While he moved the Jeep to a parking space, I formed a snowball from the pile of snow shoveled up on the side of the sidewalk, then hefted a pile of boxes to prepare to make a quick escape. I'd only have a very small window to work with in order to keep from getting tackled into the heap that had been created by the plows. Backing slowly toward the door, I let the snowball fly the minute Emmett rounded the end car in the lot, then hauled ass inside. Laughing my ass off, I slammed my hand on the elevator button, cautiously watching the lobby door while I willed it to hurry up. I slid inside and hit the close button just as Emmett entered the lobby. There'd be hell to pay upstairs, but it had been so worth it.

3 3 33 3

By the time Emmett reached the condo, I'd stowed the boxes and changed out of my damp clothes into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Padding out to the kitchen in stocking-feet, I pondered what to cook for dinner. My perusal of the refrigerator was interrupted by the sound of Emmett stomping around in the foyer, grumbling under his breath about paybacks. I'd been in such a rush to get away; I hadn't paid attention to where the snowball landed. When he rounded the corner, I knew. Snow covered his hair, melted flakes hung on his eyelashes, while rivulets ran down his neck into the collar of his flannel shirt. Slumping against the counter, my body shook with mirth. He set the boxes down, each move slow and calculated, while I struggled to pull myself together and move out of his way. I hesitated one second too long, and found myself on my ass in the hallway with Emmett hanging over me, shaking the water from his hair.

"Think you're fucking cute, huh?" he groused, while an amused twinkle shone in his eye. Emmett could take it as well as he gave it out, so I knew his anger was feigned.

"Nope, but you sure as hell are – all frosted up like a cupcake." I leaned up and licked a drop of melted snow off his neck. "Mmhhmm, taste almost as good, too."

Emmett snaked his hand into my hair, tugging on it to bring my mouth accessible to his, then assaulting my lips. In easy acquiescence, I opened to him, accepting the plunging sweep of his tongue, my fingers searching under his coat to fist in the warm fabric of his shirt. His hips shifted, leaving no doubt that my man was as aroused as I was. The moisture from his hair dripped onto the floor around us, the occasional cold drops that hit my skin sending shivers down my spine Or maybe it was the anticipation.

With the same speed that he'd tackled me, Emmett hauled me to my feet and shoved me into the kitchen.

"I'm going to take a shower; I'm fucking freezing from the snow down my shirt." He stripped off his jacket and tossed it back toward the sofa. "Please put on some coffee so I can thaw out my insides, too." I laughed again, but walked over to the pot. The enjoyment was short lived, though, when I felt a slick of coldness slide down the back of my sweats. "Oh, did I drop that? Oops, meant to throw it in the sink!" Emmett smirked, the damnable dimples that had won me over creating lickable divots in his cheeks. He leaned closer, his sparkling sapphire eyes deepening to damn near midnight. "Love you, babe, he whispered, before brushing a gentle kiss across my lips. "Welcome home."

Stunned at the sudden switch in his disposition, I watched him walk away, my eyes invariably falling to the curve of his ass in the worn Levis he had on. He had me – hook, line, and sinker. In Emmett I'd finally met my match: someone who was as big a practical joker as I was; but who also valued relationships, commitment, and family.

3 3 33 3

Once I had dinner started, I went to sort out some of my stuff. Since Valentine's Day, I'd steadily moved my clothing to the condo, so most of what was left was knickknacks and keepsakes that I couldn't bear to part with. Emmett had made space for me all over his home, spots where we could merge our lives together.

Even though it had only been a little over two weeks since we decided to move in together, we had already accumulated a few "our" things. A new picture hung in the living room, something we had found at an art show the weekend after Valentine's Day. We both loved to cook and decided we needed new professional grade cookware and in the kitchen. Everywhere I looked, I could find something that made his condo more and more our home.

By the time we sat down to eat, we'd emptied half the boxes I'd brought with me, and narrowed down several more to go into storage. While I wouldn't get rid of some of my mementos from college, they also didn't need to be lying around, either. All in all, we'd accomplished a lot in one day. Time to kick my boy's ass in some football.

I finished drying the pots, watching Emmett wipe down the stove and countertops. When he turned away to put the containers in the fridge, I snapped the towel. Emmett yelped and jumped, banging his head on the freezer door when he stood up. Sliding around the island in the middle of the kitchen for self-protection, I chortled at the sight of him trying to rub his head and ass at the same time.

"Beat my ass at Madden and I'll kiss yours and make it better," I offered, waggling my eyebrows for effect.

"Oh it is fucking on. Prepare to be annihilated." Emmett tossed the dishcloth in the sink. 'Let's go, little man. Let's see if you can handle playing with the big boys."

Sauntering past him, I grabbed his crotch and leaned in close to answer his challenge. "I can handle anything you can dish out . . . babe." I gave his dick a squeeze for emphasis, then took off running to collapse on the beanbag chair I'd moved in front of the TV earlier. "C'mon, Em, let's see what you got."

Emmett grabbed his controller and dropped onto the floor next to me. We trash-talked through setting up our teams, using the Dream Team option, both groaning when the other picked a player we wanted. Once the teams were set and the game about to begin, Emmett hit pause.

"Wanna make a wager, hotshot?"

I dropped the controller in my lap and leaned back with my hands behind my head to look over at him. My shirt slid up, exposing a stretch of skin and the trimmed, dark thatch of hair that disappeared into the waist of my low-slung sweatpants. Every movement was calculated, intended to garner a reaction. It did. Emmett's eyes fell from my face, trailing down to ogle my abdomen.

"Depends. What'd you have in mind?" I reached down and scratched my stomach, chuckling to myself when his eyes followed every pass of my fingers that I drug languidly across the taut skin. Palming myself on the way to retrieve the controller, I smirked at the slack-jawed stare that dominated my lover's face. Mesmerized, he didn't answer right away. "Em?" I snapped my fingers to get his attention.

"Sorry, what?" Emmett looked up, his eyelids lowering when he saw the expression on my face. "You fucking did that on purpose!" he accused.

"All's fair in love and football, babe. Now, your bet?"

"Strip football. Every touchdown scored costs the other team an article of clothing." He made his announcement with a smug smile.

I shook my head. I should've known Emmett would find a way to turn football into sex.

"Fine. Winner tops." His eyebrow shot up at my easy acquiescence and added condition.

"Ah, then no one really loses, do they?"

Emmett hit the start button before I could answer. By 'halftime' the game was tied at two touchdowns each, both of our shirts were off and our socks discarded, and Emmett was muttering under his breath while he retrieved a bag of Doritos and some cokes from the kitchen. I vaguely overheard something about commando. Oh yeah, fucking game on!

The second half, I pulled out all the stops, lacing my gameplay with blatant innuendos that had Emmett writhing to maintain his composure.

Slipping through a tackle into his backfield, I sacked his quarterback. "Yeah baby! Can you feel that penetration?"

Four plays later, when he tried a blitz and my player, Rob Gronkowski, blocked, broke free and fielded a short pass, "Never underestimate the power of a strong tight end."

Nonetheless, despite my best efforts, Emmett managed to score again first. I set the controller on the floor next to me, preparing to stand up and strip off my sweats, when I let the devil inside loose. Pushing back on my shoulders and digging my heels into the floor, I thrust my hips up, slid my fingers under the elastic, and shimmied the material under my ass and down my thighs. I kicked them off my feet and settled back down into the beanbag chair, my burgeoning erection proudly on display in a tight pair of black and white striped boxer briefs.

I picked up my controller again and gestured toward the TV. "Nice one, babe. You really worked that seam and hit the hole hard."

Emmett choked on the mouthful of soda he'd been attempting to swallow.

By the middle of the fourth quarter, neither of us had scored again, I'd cracked more one liners than Howie Long on a Sunday morning, and Emmett was beyond frustrated – and I knew it wasn't all because of the game. After I stalled his offense in the red zone, he threw down the controller and tackled me, pinning my hands over my head.

"Hey! That's encroachment and holding," I admonished, right before his mouth covered mine.

Emmett shifted, placing himself between my thighs, his thick clock grinding against mine through our layers of clothes. Grabbing both of my wrists with one hand, he slid the other inside my briefs to grip my ass.

"Illegal use of hands," I moaned, dropping my head back to allow him better access to my neck.

Letting go of my wrists, he grabbed the controller from my hand to turn the game off, and threw it across the room. "And that's a delay of game. Now shut up and kiss me."

Gladly I complied, tangling a hand in his dark hair, while pulling him closer with the other. The microfill in the beanbag shifted under our combined weight, settling our bodies even closer together. Hands and mouths explored and tasted, the air around us heating up as our arousal grew. Emmett sat back on his heels, dragging his hand down my torso until he reached my briefs. I lifted my ass to pull them off, grasping his thighs for balance when he grabbed my ass and brought my cock to his mouth, swallowing me deep into his throat.

"Ahhh . . . FUCK! Em . . . yeah . . . so fucking hot!"

Gasping, I tried to find the tie on his sleep pants, but gave up when he released my cock and turned his attention to my balls. He drew first one, then the other between his lips, his tongue swirling around them like he was working over a blow pop. Fuck! If he kept it up he'd find the cream filling in no time.

My hands fisted in the loose fabric of the chair, each pull on it causing my shoulders to sink deeper and my ass to lift higher. Never one to waste an opportunity, Emmett took advantage of the elevated position. He shifted his hands, spreading my ass cheeks, his thumbs stroking alongside the puckered muscles. I felt the warmth of his breath seconds before I felt the moist heat of his tongue tease across my hole. Each pass of his tongue brought more pressure, more saliva for lubrication, while in between his thumbs worked the moisture into my needy opening. And then Emmett's finger was inside, stroking, seeking out . . .

"There. God, yes! Right . . . fucking . . . there!" My legs shook, my hips reflexively pressing my ass further into his hand to deepen his reach – wanting to feel it again . . .

And once more . . .

His mouth returned to my cock and balls, the tantalizing heat coupled with the thrusting strokes driving me insane. Emmett drew me out, bringing me the edge of orgasm over and over, until I begged him to fuck me. His hand stilled, the pads of his fingers pressing on my sweet spot, while he slowly pulled his mouth back up my shaft to release me.

He licked his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth, while his eyes met mine over my bent knees. "I believe that was roughing the receiver. Because believe me, baby, you are receiving tonight."

Emmett set my ass down and bent over me to reach into the drawer on the end table. Leaning up, I bit his pec, finding my way to the hardened nipple and lavishing my attention on it. My hands were busy tugging at the tie on his pants, shoving them over the ripe swell of his ass, so I could have unfettered access to his cock. We were both too keyed up to wait for them to come off completely.

Snatching the condom from his hand, I tore the package open and worked it down his thick shaft, while he drizzled a stream of lube over his cock and my hand. I laid back, my hand pumping his flesh while I positioned him between my legs. Emmett knelt up, lifting my ass into position, and pressed his flared head against my opening. He eased into me; barely breaching the muscles, then withdrew, repeating the action over and over, his eyes never wavering from the site of my ass opening to accept him.

"Stop. Fucking Teasing," I begged, reaching around my legs to pull him closer.

"Awww, babe. Teasing would imply I'd leave you unsatisfied," he said through gritted teeth, throwing my own words back at me.

The strain of holding himself back showed in every twitch of his muscles. Emmett withdrew once more, before pushing forward steadily until he was firmly seated deep inside me. When he released my legs to lean down and kiss me, I wrapped them around his waist. Locking my ankles, I shifted and clenched; his growl at the sensation muffled by my tongue in his mouth.

With deep, hard thrusts, he began to move, my body rocking from the force of each punishing slap of his hips against my ass. My hands were everywhere at once – touching, caressing, encouraging. Until I'd had him, I'd had no idea how much I needed him. Since then, I couldn't imagine living without him.

Our bodies moved in unison, giving and taking, Emmett's touch taking on a sense of desperation. He gathered me so close I couldn't reach my own aching dick, not that it mattered. The friction would be more than enough after the way he'd teased me. His teeth clamped down on my shoulder, his hips pounded me into the chair. I closed my eyes, riding the crest that he pushed me toward, until stars exploded and my release coated both our stomachs. With a final grunting thrust, Emmett shoved into me, shuddering while he murmured my name against the bruised skin of my shoulder. I'd be sore all over in the morning, but I'd remember every moment of pleasure that got me there.