Luka took a step forward, ready to wedge himself between them again—his hand half-raised like a shield.
But Ryan turned, cool and steady, and looked him straight in the eye.
"Tell me something, Luka. Have you ever been in love?"
Luka froze mid-step. His mouth opened. Then shut.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
Ryan didn't smirk. Didn't soften. He said it like an oath, voice low, burning at the edges. "Everything."
Luka swallowed hard. "Don't try to distract me with poetic bullshit. You think you can manipulate me the way you manipulate him?"
"I'm not manipulating anyone," Ryan said, his tone sharp but not cruel. "I asked you a question."
And there was something in his voice that wasn't challenge. Wasn't even pride. It was pain—like the answer mattered to him, deeply.
Luka's jaw tightened. "Yes. I've been in love."
"Then you know," Ryan said, taking a step forward, calm as the ocean before a storm, "that it doesn't always come out clean. That it can chew you up. That it makes you desperate, and bold, and stupid."
Luka laughed once, bitter and brittle. "Right…poet-boy. That doesn't give you the right to mess with Luna's head."
"I haven't," Ryan said. "Not once."
Luka's eyes narrowed. "You blindfolded him. You jerked him off on a canvas. You whisper all these fever-dream confessions like you're in a romance novel written by a demon."
Ryan's brow arched. "And yet, he came to me."
"That doesn't mean he wanted it."
Ryan's eyes sparked. "Oh? So he didn't mention the part when he moaned my name. He begged me not to stop."
Luna made a sound behind them—something small and mortified and caught in the throat.
Ryan turned slightly, softened. "But even then," he said quietly, "when he said 'stop,' I stopped."
He looked back at Luka.
"I've never forced him. Never lied to him. Never made him a promise I couldn't keep. All I've ever done—all I've ever done—is love him. Obsessively. Selfishly. But openly. Every second, I've made sure he knows he can walk away."
Luka's anger faltered. His mouth parted, breath stuttering like something was short-circuiting inside him.
Ryan stepped closer—not to threaten, but to bear witness.
"You act like I'm some predator hiding in the dark. But the only thing I'm hiding is my mask of restraint. I've bled for him in plain sight."
Luka blinked. His voice came quiet. "You're still... older."
"I'm one year older than him."
Luka flinched, like he hadn't expected it to hit that close. He searched Ryan's face for a crack, some smirk, some smarmy victory line. But Ryan just stood there—tall, raw, terrifying in how sure he was.
"You think I'm a villain," Ryan said. "Fine. But ask him. Has he ever once asked me to stop, and I didn't?"
Luka looked to Luna, who stood pale in the neon lights of the warehouse that was slowly being turned into a rave all around him. Luna's face a mirad of emotions as the other two men debated his fate over the lewd and lustful deeds that had transpired between Luna and Ryan.
"No," Luna whispered. "He hasn't." Luna finally admitted, unable to say more.
The silence stretched. Just the faint pulse of bass far in the background, as if the rave was holding its breath too.
Ryan let his voice fall into something lower, something impossibly gentle. "If you think I'm bad for him, then you can take him home. Right now. I won't chase him. I won't call."
Luna's eyes widened.
Ryan looked at Luka. "But if you don't—then maybe you see it now. That I would tear myself apart before I ever hurt him."
Luka stood there, lips parted, heart caught somewhere between fury and disbelief. For a long moment, nothing moved.
Then, almost too quiet to catch: "Fuck."
Ryan didn't smile.
Luka let out a breath, half-defeated, half-cursing himself. "You're still a menace. But you're either the most honest one I've ever met, or completely insane."
"Maybe both," Ryan said. "But I love him. That's not going to change."
Luka, though visibly rattled, clung stubbornly to the rails of his logic, even as the tide of Ryan's presence tugged at his footing.
"But he's with Rachel," Luka said. "They're already together. It's not just about feelings or obsession or paint-stained confessions. There are other people involved. Real ones. You can't just bulldoze your way into—"
"She knows," Ryan cut in, level, almost soft.
Luka blinked. "What?"
"Rachel knows," Ryan repeated, lifting one hand to loosely gesture, as if this were a boardroom debate rather than a slow-motion emotional earthquake. "She's known from the beginning. Luna told her. I told her."
Luka's brows snapped together. "And she's… okay with this?"
Ryan chuckled once, not unkindly. "Yes, for the most part."
"I've known her since we were kids… she holds herself with such poise… she would never agree to this kind of arrangment." Luka said, frowning, wondering is Ryan was lying.
"Then maybe you haven't paid attention," Ryan said, stepping closer. "Rachel doesn't want to manage Luna's desires. Never has. She told me—word for word—that she'd prefer if I handled Luna's needs. Thoroughly."
Luka's mouth opened to respond, but the words got caught somewhere between shock and secondhand embarrassment. "His what?"
But Ryan wasn't done. He turned, slow and deliberate, and in one motion, he reached out and grabbed Luna by the waist—pulling the smaller boy in with a bold, practiced ease that made it clear this wasn't a new dance.
Luna made a soft, involuntary sound, one hand bracing against Ryan's chest as he was tucked in, flush against him. His cheeks burned, but he didn't pull away.
Ryan looked over Luna's shoulder, right at Luka.
"You want clarity? Here it is." His voice dropped, just a notch lower. "He's not confused. He's not being pressured. He's mine."
Luka's throat bobbed.
Luna, caught in Ryan's arms, blinked up—half dazed, half defiant—and didn't say a word.
"And Rachel?" Ryan continued. "She's a queen. But she's not jealous. She knows there's a part of him that needs something only I can give. And she loves him enough to let him have it."
Luka took a shaky step back. "That's not love. That's—madness. You guys are like an incestrous polycule"
"Maybe," Ryan said. "But it works."
Silence bloomed between them—sharp, glittering, impossibly loaded.
Luka glanced at Luna, who looked somewhere between overwhelmed and owned. And then back at Ryan, who stood tall, calm, terrifyingly sure of every word out of his mouth.
"Luna…are you really…did you really agree to this?" Luka asked softly, his eyes straining on his cousin, willing the younger man to declare that Ryan was a liar and all this was a farce.
To Luka's disappointment Luna nodded quietly and finally choked out "Yes, I'm agreeable to all of this"
"You're all insane," Luka muttered, but it didn't come out venomous this time. Just… weary.
Ryan smirked faintly. "Probably."
And again—Luna didn't move. His gaze on Ryan remain fixed in place, so overwhelmed by the entire exchange. As if Ryan could sense Luna's frayed nerves, he ran his hand through the smaller boy's hair and pulled him close, resting Luna's head on Ryan's shoulder, as is pulling him closer into his embrace and control, displaying just how much he was going to satisfy all of Luna's needs, even if it just was reassurance and comfort, unashamed of anything he had done, he was doing and he would do to Luna, to have him all to himself.
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