Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

other after losing someone they couldn't stand to lose.
    "Sorry. Don't really know how to answer that one. Whatever this is— it's always been there," Jace says, eyes straight ahead, his heart thick in his throat. He can feel its beat there and he wonders if Cam can feel it too. "Nothing changed. But after mom… I just noticed. That's all. It grew. Didn't really know how to deal with it."
    "Asshole." There's no heat in the word though and Cam doesn't make a move to leave or to punch him, so it doesn't worry Jace. "So that's why you were like a fucking dog, acting like I'd pissed in your territory every time I came into the room, wanting me out of your space?"
    "Yes."
    Cam snorts and rubs his brow against Cam's shoulder before settling down again. "I didn't like it. I've never liked not— not, you know. You not being around like before. Messed me up a little. Not as much as how you're messed up though."
    "I know. Sorry."
    "You don't sound sorry."
    Jace shrugs. "Sorry," he says again.
    "You're an idiot."
    His teeth are grinding now. It's not like he can defend himself against that. "I get it."
    Then strong fingers thread through his hair, low on his nape, locking tight, forcing his head back. His head hits the wall with a thud and he hisses, lifting a hand on instinct.
    Cam grabs his wrist tight and then the joints of his wrist scrape against the wall too, grinding uncomfortably against the bricks. Cam lifts up, swings a leg over, blanket slipping to the floor and suddenly it's too much. Jace is gasping, trying to back up, lift himself higher up against the wall, eyes wide on Cam's face. Cam's looking everywhere, eyes tracking all over Jace's face, like he's searching for something. And Jace is fucking panicking.
    "So messed up," Cam says, "so, so messed up, Jace."
    Cam doesn't close his eyes when he presses his mouth against Jace's. They're open and clear and Jace feels pinned. His heart feels squeezed, like it's too tight for it to beat properly and the wrench in his stomach is too intense. He can't untangle it all.
    Cameron's sitting right on his crotch, ass firm and grinding down and Jace hasn't even realized he's gripping Cam's shoulder with his free hand, fingers digging in so hard that he knows there'll be bruises.
    It's all hard angles. Jace is used to this.
    But he's not used to how full and soft Cameron's mouth feels against his. It's just a touch, but there's a wet cling when Cameron parts his lips a little.
    They're both breathing heavy, the sound too loud in the silence as Cameron closes his lips over Jace's, watching him, as he sucks it in gently, teeth scraping.
    It's wet and warm and Jace can't keep back the pathetic whimper that hums along his throat. He can't help the way he drops his hand to Cam's hip, his other flexing in his grip, uncaring that it feels like the back of his hand is being scratched raw against the brick surface. He fists Cam's T-shirt as he goes rigid, his muscles locking up tight in a moment of fight or flight, indecision.
    Cam lets go of his wrist. His hands, rough from years of playing ball, rasp over Jace's cheeks and hold his head in place. Then he slides his tongue right on in.
    Jace shatters.
    He grabs at his brother. His twin. Fuck . Cam. He wants closer. God he wants closer and he opens his mouth wider; reels when Cam fucks into his mouth, tongue sweeping, their mouths clashing now, hard enough that the tang of blood touches his tongue, doing nothing to slow this down.
    Jace tugs at Cam's hips, fingers shaking as Cam pants into his mouth, hot and mouth wet as it slides over his. He slips them down the back of Cam's jeans, wriggling them in, fighting against the stiffness of the tight denim, to rake them over the meat of the most perfect ass, as his hips arch up. His dick is hard, and his stomach is a coil of tension, twisting tight and driving him to grind up, the shorts a poor barrier as he ruts like a dog in heat. Cameron's biting at his lips and Jace's hands find their way under his T-shirt, palms flattening against the smooth planes of Cameron's back to slide up and up until he's curling his hands over Cameron's shoulders, T-shirt bunched up around his wrists.
    They fit. He fits him. Just like Jace had imagined he would. And it makes perfect sense because they've been doing this since before they could remember, changing, shifting and molding to make room for each other, to adapt for each other, somehow in sync even when it didn't seem like it. They're a pair. They