by Gregory Ashe
Jem raised his head, blinking to clear his vision, and fixed Tean with a look. “What happened yesterday?”
“I had a good day with Ammon and my family.”
Groaning, Jem let his head fall again. “I can’t do this. Not this hungover. I honestly can’t.”
“That was a big change for me, when I finally understood that life wasn’t limitless, that eternity wasn’t waiting just around the corner. Everything we do means something now, here. Dying is real. And killing someone or something, ending their existence, that’s real. Suffering is real. Victimhood is real. For some people, it’s the only thing they ever know—or close enough.” His hand was shaky as he gathered the hair from Jem’s forehead and brushed it back. “Pleasure is real, joy too, and it’s only now, right now, when we can have them, so we have to fight for them. Fight for ourselves. Fight for other people. Fight for justice and peace and happiness and safety right now, instead of waiting for a perfect world that we’ll all get sometime later. Later isn’t worth anything; we only have right now. And how we choose to use this moment, how we choose to spend the precious little time we have alive, that’s the most serious ethical responsibility we have.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re going to make me stop watching Saturday-morning cartoons. I ask for very little.” Jem raised his head and asked again, “Tean, what happened yesterday?”
“I realized it was time for a few things to end. Ammon was right: I need to recognize that I can’t have everything. I need to choose what I want the most and let the rest go.”
Closing his eyes against the sudden sting, Jem lowered his head again. “Well, it sounded awful when Ammon said it, and it still sounds awful even when you say it. So thank you, for, you know. Making sure I didn’t die or whatever. That means a lot to me. And I’m always going to love you because we’re rover buddies and—”
He cut off when Tean put a hand over his mouth.
“I have spent my entire life trying not to lose anything,” Tean said, his voice choked. “I’ve lost a lot, and it hurts too much, and I’m tired of hurting. I felt like I lost my family when I came out. I felt like I lost my sense of self, my identity, my purpose, my place in the universe. And then I met you, and I realized how happy I could be, but I still couldn’t . . . I still couldn’t let it go, this fantasy that if I was good enough, patient enough, if I swallowed enough crap and wrote enough checks, if I found the right guy, somehow I could be me again, the old me, and I could have it all: I could have my old life with my family, and I could have this new life with a man I loved, and I wouldn’t have to lose anything.”
Peeling Tean’s fingers away, Jem said, “I get it. I’m happy for you, I really am. I’m going to be a total bitch about it, but I really am happy for you. I’m glad Ammon makes you happy, and I’m glad your family loves him, and I’m—I’m—” He couldn’t seem to finish, and even with his eyes closed, tears spilled out. Tean’s thumb ran across his cheek, wiping them away.
“For someone who might be the smartest man I’ve ever met,” Tean said, “you are very dumb sometimes. I’m trying to tell you I love you.”
Sniffles. Then Jem wiped his eyes and tried to open them, but they burned with fresh tears. He wiped those away too. Then he slapped Tean’s ass and said, “Well you’re doing a fucking terrible job of it.”
An unsteady grin wobbled on Tean’s face. “I love you, Jem. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t know if you want that after how I’ve—”
Jem grabbed his mane of wild hair, pulled him down, and kissed him. When he broke away, the pounding in his head had gotten significantly better. It might have had something to do with the ibuprofen, but he didn’t think so.
“Don’t you dare choose me over your family, Teancum Leon. I love you, and we’ll figure out a way to be together, but I don’t want you cutting things off with your family. Even if they are a bunch of manipulative, selfish assholes.”
“I’m not cutting them off. And they’re not what you said. Not exactly. I’m just letting go of something that died a long time ago. And that’s ok; it’s time for that part of my life to be over.”
Jem sat up. He touched Tean’s face; the skin was fever hot. “I don’t want you to have to lose something again. I don’t want you to ever have to hurt. Not ever.”
“Everything ends, Jem.” He turned into Jem’s touch. “That’s what allows things to be beautiful. That’s what gives things meaning.”
Tean moved to kiss him again, and Jem drew back.
“What?” Tean said. “Did I—”
Blowing out a shaky breath, Jem said, “I have to tell you something.”
Tean watched him. Those soft, dark eyes held Jem’s reflection. “You don’t have to tell me anything. Not if you’re not ready.”
“No, I have to. I have to because if I don’t now, I might not ever do it, and I need you to know. You deserve to know.” Jem drew a thick, wet breath. “Tanner, Antonio, and Blake, they took turns. Hurting me. They’d get me alone, and two of them would hold me down, and they’d take off my clothes and—” He’d reached the end. His throat seized. Then, swallowing, he shook his head.
“It’s ok,” Tean whispered. “You don’t have to say it.”
Jem cleared his throat, but his voice was still rough when he spoke again. “They fucked me. So, there. Now you know. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like it means anything. But I hate them for it, and that’s why I’ve been acting so weird, and—and—” His eyes were hot and stinging. His chest hitched. He couldn’t seem to make his tongue work correctly, and the words came out broken. “They did it to me again and again, and I couldn’t make them stop.”
That was all. As far as he got. And then he sobbed while Tean held him.
Tean rubbed his back, stroked his hair, murmured soft, soothing things the way he spoke to Scipio when the wind got too loud. And after a while, Jem peeled himself away from Tean, wiping his face.
“Jem—”
“I’m fine. I’m sorry about that. I’m totally fine.”
Tean shook his head. “What if you aren’t fine? What if you let yourself not be fine for a while?”
“I just need to pee.”
Without waiting for a reply, Jem rolled off the bed and padded into the bathroom. He washed his face, cried some more, and washed his face again. When he stepped through the door again, Tean was sitting on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around himself. He had been crying too, the tracks still staining his cheeks.
Jem picked up his phone and tapped his way through several screens. Music started to play. He tried a smile. “Am I going to have to go over there? Or are you coming over here?”
Tean looked like he wanted to talk more, but after a moment, he said, “We could meet in the middle.”
“I like that idea.”
When they reached each other, Jem wrapped his arms around Tean, and the doc settled his hands on Jem’s waist. They rocked together, Tean guiding Jem into the music’s rhythm. Jem’s eyes were hot again, and he rested his head on Tean’s shoulder, trying to pretend his tears weren’t soaking Tean’s shirt.
“Emmylou Harris,” Jem said, his voice still hoarse. “This is ‘Orphan Girl.’”
Tean’s hand ran up and down Jem’s back, smooth and slow. Emmylou told them about God’s highway, about God’s table. She told them about friendships pure and golden.
“You’re not an orphan, Jem,” Tean said quietly, his mouth at Jem’s ear. “And you’re not alone.”
Jem kissed him. His hands were shaking as he reached for the buttons on Tean’s polo, then he stopped. “Is this ok?”
Tean nodded, but he said, “But you don’t feel well.”
“I’m hungover,” Jem growled, yanking on the placket as he worked the buttons free. “Not dead.”
Then the polo slipped up and over Tean’s shoulders, exposing the delicate lines of his neck, his shoulders, his chest. They fell together, tangled on the bed. H
e was the way Jem remembered: the thin stripe of fur running down the center of his chest, the skin tight over his ribs, the slight bump of his sternum. Too thin. Deep breaths made his belly rise and fall; the trail of hair disappeared under the waistband of his briefs. Jem let his hands wander over Tean, tracing his clavicle, his chest, teasing a nipple, tugging at the furry strip. He was exactly the way Jem remembered, back when they had tried this the first time.
But he was different too. More confident as he took Jem in hand, his smile playful instead of shy when Jem made a pleased noise. He arched his head, exposing his neck, where Jem took advantage of the sensitive skin and scraped his beard back and forth until Tean moaned. Tean remembered what Jem liked too: the spot between his shoulder blades, the weight of his hands on Jem’s ass, his mouth everywhere he could reach. Jem loved his mouth, couldn’t get enough of it.
“I want you to fuck me.”
Tean cupped the side of Jem’s face. His breathing was ragged, his lips swollen from kissing.
“I want you to,” Jem said. “I want you to fuck me.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I love you, and I want you to.”
“Jem, you just told me—”
“It’s not like I haven’t done it before, Tean. Lots of guys want to top. And I want this. I want it with you. For my entire life, I haven’t been in control, no matter how hard I tried. I’m tired of trying to be in control. There’s never been anybody else to take care of me, and—and now there’s you. And I trust you. And I want you like this.”
To Jem’s surprise, something shifted in Tean’s face, and he didn’t argue again. He kissed Jem tenderly, his hands tracing every inch of Jem’s body. His mouth followed his hands. Part of Jem itched for Tean to get on with it, and part of him was coiled with dread.
“Take some deep breaths,” Tean said, “and let’s see if I can give you something else to think about.”
He took Jem in his mouth, and then Jem definitely had something else to think about. Jem tensed again when he felt a fingertip slick with lube, but Tean was slow and careful. Jem gasped when Tean finally pressed in, but he was shocked to realize it hadn’t hurt and then he felt dizzy with relief and endorphins.
“Ok,” Jem said, the word guttural. “Ok, I’m ready.”
But Tean went slowly. One finger, curling, searching, and then a pop of pleasure like a flashbulb going off behind Jem’s eyes.
“There it is,” Tean pulled off Jem long enough to say.
“Oh God,” Jem muttered. “Oh God.”
Tean kept it up, Jem spewing a stream of pleas and praise. Then two fingers, that same spot, the same flashbulb bliss. Jem arched his back, head thrashing from side to side.
“Ok,” he panted. “Ok, ok, ok. Please.” The word came out in a long whine.
Tean was merciless. Tean was relentless. Jem gathered fistfuls of the sheets and bellowed.
He was barely aware when Tean slid into him, and then it had already happened, and Tean was rocking gently, adjusting Jem’s hips. When another of those lightning bolts of pleasure struck, Jem let out a shocked, “Holy fuck,” and Tean grinned, the expression surprisingly wicked.
“Oh,” Tean said, the grin getting bigger. “There it is.”
After that, neither of them could hold himself together for long. Jem came apart first, shaking in his own fist, as Tean held his hips with slick hands. Tean followed a few moments later, shuddering as he drooped over Jem. And then they were lying together, Tean’s sweat-covered body like a furnace against Jem.
When Jem felt like his brain wasn’t in a million pieces anymore, he brought his mouth to Tean’s ear and whispered, “Teancum Leon, I love you.”
“Holy God,” Tean mumbled.
Jem laughed.
Rolling onto his side, Tean reached out, and he ran his hand along Jem’s belly. He kissed Jem’s shoulder. He smiled, vulnerable, almost shy now that they were past the sex.
“Thank you,” Jem said, blushing at the rush of emotion. He buried his face in the mattress again. “I wanted to give you something so you’d know how much I love you.”
“I love you too,” Tean whispered, tugging on Jem’s hair until Jem looked at him again. Jem’s face got even hotter for some reason he couldn’t explain. He’d never known he could blush this hard. Then a smile cracked Tean’s expression. “But if you think I’m going to be doing all the work from now on, you’re out of your mind.”
Jem smoothed the wild, brushed-back hair and smirked. “It’s your own fault. You’re just too damn good.”
34
The next morning, Jem was trying to fix Tean’s glasses when the knock came at the door. He’d purchased tape at the FedEx store inside the hotel, and he’d torn off pieces and stuck them to his fingers, ready to use as he tried to reassemble the glasses again. Another knock came, hard and furious. Jem glanced over at Tean, who was on the bed, squinting at the TV.
“I’m going to handle this,” Jem said. “Call a funeral home.”
Tean got up from the bed, pulled on the briefs and polo that were the only clothes he had in the room, and forced Jem to sit down at the desk again. Another knock came.
“Tean, open this goddamn door right now.”
“Forget the funeral home,” Jem said, starting to get up again. “Call the zoo. See if they’ll accept anonymous donations of bodies that have been ripped limb from limb.”
Tean sighed and pushed him back into the seat again.
When Tean answered the door, his body blocked Jem’s line of sight. Jem had to settle for listening.
“Give it to me,” Ammon said.
“What?”
“The necklace you took from Jager’s desk. Give it to me right now.”
“Try that again, motherfucker,” Jem shouted. “Politely.”
“Good morning, Ammon. Is Jager awake?”
“Don’t worry about that. You’re not going. Neither of you is going. You’re in possession of evidence, and I’m taking it into police custody now. You’ve got sixty seconds to turn it over before I arrest you two.”
“Let us get ready, and we’ll head over to the hospital with you.”
Ammon’s laugh was bitter and choppy. “You’re out of your mind. This is an official investigation. My investigation. I’m going to talk to Jager. You’re going to turn over that evidence, or I’m going to have two Vegas police officers up here tossing your rooms until we find it.”
“Fifteen minutes,” Tean said, starting to close the door.
Even from where Jem sat, he could hear Ammon’s labored breathing. Tean flinched when Ammon slapped the door, and Jem jolted out of his seat. He froze at Tean’s outstretched hand.
“Did you scare off my dates? The guys who never called me back? Was that you?”
Some of the color bled from Ammon’s face.
“When I saw you a few days ago and you had those bruises on your face,” Tean said, his voice steady, “was that really your father who hit you? Or was that Ragnar, who threw a punch when you tried to run him off?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“We’re going with you to the hospital. That’s not up for debate; you owe me.”
Fury struggled with another, indefinable emotion in Ammon’s face. Finally he spat out, “Word of advice, Teancum: if you’re going to moan like a whore, get a hotel room with better soundproofing.”
“We’ll meet you in the lobby, Ammon.”
Then Tean shut the door. Ammon hit it again, and it rattled in the frame. Tean let out a slow breath, his shoulders curving, and he put a hand over his face.
“I wanted to handle that,” Jem said, crossing the distance to take Tean in his arms.
“No, it’s fine. I need to deal with him.”
“But I wanted to cut him up and make monkey soup out of him.”
“Maybe next time.” Tean patted Jem’s back and then tried to wriggle free. “I
need to get ready.”
Jem tightened his arms.
“Jem, stop, I need to shower.”
“Next time,” Jem whispered, kissing Tean lightly between the words, “a guy asks you if you’re out of your mind, you tell him, yes, my very handsome boyfriend fucked my brains out.”
“I don’t remember saying you were my boyfriend.”
Jem kissed him on the mouth.
“It’s very presumptuous of you to—"
Jem kissed him on the jaw.
“We should start things slow,” Tean said, his breathing uneven, “and see—”
Jem kissed the side of his neck and nipped twice.
“Oh.” Tean said. “Fuck.”
“Go get in the shower so your handsome boyfriend can do wonderful, life-altering, slippery things to you.”
“My very handsome boyfriend.”
“You’ve got a side piece?” Jem said, eyebrows arching. “Where is the son of a bitch? I’m going to kill him.”
Bathrooms, with all that tile and porcelain and glass, carried sound pretty damn well, and Jem was proud of himself, even if his knees were killing him by the time they finished.
Tean went to change, but he came back when he realized he had locked himself out of his room the night before. He was grateful (and surprisingly unsurprised) when Jem revealed that he had palmed the spare key to Tean’s room. He left again, and Jem dressed. He was wearing his Smith Fieldhouse tee, jeans, and fire-engine red ROOS when he knocked on Tean’s door. When Tean answered the door, Jem closed his eyes and said, “No. I will die before I let this happen. I thought we threw away all your carpenter jeans.”
“Ross had a sale,” Tean protested as Jem hustled him back into the room. “Jem, we’re—no, I just bought these.”