by E M Lindsey
Parker closed his eyes in a slow blink, then clicked on a new message, typed in his number, and sent his address. He felt his own phone buzz in his pocket, the message now immortalized until Ronan found the balls to delete his end of the thread. “I’m going home. Don’t you dare show up unless you’re planning to stay.”
Ronan licked his lips, letting out a small huff of air when Parker shoved the phone back into his pocket. “For good?”
“I’m not delusional,” Parker said instead of yes, god please. Instead of don’t leave me. Instead of don’t let me walk away. “I’m moving in a few weeks.”
Ronan closed his eyes, then nodded. “Okay.”
Parker didn’t know if that was a goodbye or a promise, but he forced himself to leave. He had the cab number on the top of his contacts, and there was one right around the corner. Ronan hadn’t come out after him, but he had a feeling the man was watching him stand at the curb to wait for his ride.
It wasn’t long before he was sitting in the back against comfortable leather, and he let his head fall against the window, eyes closed. The driver seemed to read the situation well enough, because he didn’t say a word, and that was enough for Parker to throw a couple extra fives at him as he climbed out and headed for his door when the man pulled up to his building.
He felt the absence of footsteps following him up like a physical blow, and he knew he’d be a mess as he waited to see if Ronan—for the first time in fourteen years—chose him.
Chapter Six
An hour passed. An eternal hour which allowed him to come to terms with the fact that he would never be enough for Ronan. Parker could love him to the end of time, but that didn’t matter if Ronan was never willing to take those steps. He undressed slowly, standing in front of the mirror, and he stared at himself. He was the same man he’d always been—in larger skin, with more lines around his mouth now, but nothing about him had fundamentally changed over the years.
He felt, somehow, less cracked inside now that he’d faced Ronan down and accepted that he’d never be willing to choose Parker over everything else. It hurt, it gutted him, but at least it was an answer. With a sigh, he sat down and slid his pajama bottoms up, leaving his shirt off since it was warm and there was no point and no one to impress.
He used a washcloth to scrub some of the club smell from his skin, then brushed the gin off his teeth and moved to the living room. TV was unappealing. Food was unappealing. Everything that wasn’t Ronan left a bitter taste in his mouth. Alex was gone, and he had a couple of hookups in his phone still, but the last thing in the world he wanted was to see someone else’s face that didn’t belong to his past.
His eyes felt heavy, and they started to close when there was a tentative knock on his door. It was probably Alex having changed his mind, and Parker knew he should ignore him, but he couldn’t resist. Not when he was lonely like this. Taking a breath, Parker leaned back and shouted, “Come in!”
For agonizing seconds, nothing happened. Then the knob turned, and Ronan was there. He looked nervous, sheepish, one hand grasping the back of his neck as he stepped in and shut the door behind him.
“What the fuck?” Parker whispered, and his eyes darted over to check the clock. Two hours gone.
Ronan’s tongue darted over his lower lip, then he let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “Karma, I guess. My battery was dead, and it took me half an hour to find someone sober enough to jump it.”
It wasn’t a lie. Ronan had always sucked at lying and even when he was okay at it, Parker could always read him. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“You were drinking,” Ronan said. “And I wasn’t sure you had a car.”
“You could have let me know,” Parker said, and left the rest unsaid. You could have let me know so I wasn’t sitting here thinking I finally had closure.
Ronan hesitated, but eventually eased down onto the sofa, leaving a cushion of space between them. “I’m sorry.”
“I know you’re fucking sorry,” Parker said, not giving him an inch. “You’re always sorry. Is this what you did when Fitz came over?”
Ronan made a small, startled noise, then sighed. “I should have figured he’d tell you.”
“We don’t talk about you a lot, so don’t flatter yourself,” he snapped. He sounded like a petulant teen, like he was reverting back to when he knew this man, inside and out. It wasn’t right, of course. They weren’t the same. The past had shaped them, and the present carefully molded them into entirely new things. He didn’t want to go back all those years and deal with the pain and suffering, even if it meant being with Ronan. He wanted something fresh, something that belonged to the people they were right then, in that moment.
“I didn’t think,” Ronan started, then shook his head and closed his eyes. He did look tired—a worn, beat down sort of tired that would’ve had Parker checking his vitals and running a full panel on his blood if he’d strolled into the ER looking the way he did.
But Parker had been gone from his life for too long to know what Ronan’s new normal was. “I’m sorry,” he said after a minute. “I didn’t think you were going to show up, and I was ready to finally let you go.”
“I know.” Ronan swallowed, then opened his eyes and shifted onto his side so he could look at Parker fully. “I don’t even know why I came here. Fitz said you took a job in Connecticut.”
“Yes,” Parker said. He’d all but signed the papers. “My residency is almost over.”
“I’m so fucking proud of you.” Ronan shifted a little closer, bolder than he’d ever been. He raised his hand and hovered it over Parker’s bare chest.
Parker licked his lips. He wanted to say no, wanted to beg Ronan to come with, or…well, he wasn’t sure what. But the idea of losing him again after this felt like too much. “What do you want from me?”
“To touch you again. For you to want me to touch you,” Ronan said. His voice was rougher now, with emotion and want. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be…more.”
Parker shook his head. “That’s not the apology I want.”
“I know,” Ronan said again, and Parker wanted to fucking punch him. “I’m not ready.” He dropped his hands to his lap and shuddered out a breath. “I don’t know what I am.”
“Are you with anyone else?”
Ronan laughed. “Not since forever. I don’t fuck anyone anymore. I don’t date. There’s just this hole where you once existed.”
Parker didn’t offer him consolation. It wasn’t his place, and frankly, it didn’t matter. If Ronan was drowning in self-doubt, that was his own problem. Parker had moved on to another life that didn’t include Ronan’s never-ending self-flagellation. It was too exhausting.
“If we fuck,” Parker warned.
Ronan made a soft noise in the back of his throat and lifted his hand again. After hesitation, after Parker refused to meet him halfway, he laid it against Parker’s neck. It was warm, calloused, with jagged nails catching on his skin, but fuck if he cared right then because Ronan was touching him again.
“I missed you.” His voice was barely there and so wrecked.
Parker closed his eyes at the unexpected wave of pain. “You don’t…you have no right to say that to me. I was always right fucking there. All you had to do was reach out.”
“I know.” Parker was getting really fucking sick of those two words. “I just, I had to see it for myself.”
“See what?”
“You.” Ronan dragged a finger down between his pecs. “I had to see you, everything you’d become. Parker, look at you. You fucking…you did it. Medical school.”
Parker knew his grin was sharp, but Ronan hadn’t given him a reason to soften it. “Yeah, I did. You wanna play doctor?”
Ronan made a soft, needy noise in the back of his throat. “Don’t.”
“Why not? You came here to fuck me, didn’t you?” It was a cruel sort of challenge, but Ronan didn’t rise to it. He didn’t back down though, either. He just stared, with his finger presse
d against Parker’s sternum. His heart was beating hard enough Ronan probably felt it in that barely-there touch. “Are you going to kiss me?”
Ronan licked his lips. “Do you want me to?”
“Honestly?” He had no reason to lie, not to Ronan. “I haven’t gone a single second of my day since I met you that I haven’t wanted you to fucking kiss me, Ronan.”
Maybe it was the words, or maybe his tone—maybe it was the fire in his eyes as Parker stared at him, but something in the other man snapped. He took Parker, one hand curled around his bicep, the other the edge of his stump, and he hauled him in.
Parker let out a deep-chested moan, desperate to feel every, aching second of this kiss. Ronan was better than he used to be—the sloppy fourteen-year-old, the terrified eighteen-year-old who hated himself. He was a grown man now, who had kissed others—who had fucked others that weren’t Parker.
In that moment, Parker wanted a list—wanted to find every single person that Ronan had ever touched and beat them unrecognizable. It was raw and kind of horrifying, and he didn’t give a single shit. Not when Ronan was pushing him back against the couch cushions. Not when he was devouring Parker’s mouth like he needed the taste of him to live.
“Please,” Ronan begged, right up against Parker’s lips.
He was hard in his jeans, the fabric rough on Parker’s stiff cock which rested behind his flimsy pajamas. Parker ground up against him, knowing it was more torture for Ronan than for him. He could get off this way if he tried hard enough. It would serve Ronan right, watching Parker come apart under him, untouched, unable to touch, but that was the last thing he wanted.
“Get my dick out,” Parker ordered.
Ronan groaned, then scrambled between Parker’s legs as Parker pushed himself up to sit. It had never been like this before. His awkward teenage fumbling had him blowing his load the moment Ronan’s hand had curled around him. Even their kisses had set him off.
He felt close now, but he pulled himself back, restrained himself until he ached. The air against his cock—leaking a steady stream of precome that dribbled down his shaft—felt too cold. He grabbed his dick in his hand, then lifted his leg and curled the edge of his foot around the back of Ronan’s head to hold in him place. Scooting toward the end of the sofa cushion, he used his hand to trace the wet tip of his dick over Ronan’s parted lips.
“Do you want this?” he asked.
Ronan’s breath rippled out, a heavy, hot shudder. “Yes.”
Parker nodded. He cupped Ronan’s chin, thumb pressing his bottom lip and dragging his jaw open wide. When Ronan’s tongue slid out, Parker pressed the head of his cock there and held it. “I’ve always loved your mouth. I have spent countless nights over the years begging God to let me forget what you felt like this way. But I never could.”
Ronan closed his eyes, something like a sob escaping his chest, but Parker muffled it by pressing his foot harder into the back of Ronan’s head and sliding all the way into the hot, wet heat. It was bliss—it was perfection. It was everything he had ever fantasized about with all those miles between them, and it was clawing gaping wounds inside him knowing he was going to give it up in a few short hours.
He shouldn’t do this. It felt like a thousand, tiny deaths with each thrust against Ronan’s face. His eyes were hot with unshed tears, but he kept going, his foot guiding the rhythm, his hand pressed to Ronan’s cheek to feel the way he was stretched around his girth, feel the way he choked on him.
“Want my come?” He was so close, and they’d barely started anything.
Ronan sobbed again, nodding, sucking harder, hands gripping Parker’s thighs so tight there would be bruises. And maybe knowing that he’d carry Ronan’s marks on him for longer than a single day was what did it, but he couldn’t hold back. His entire body went stiff, balls going tight, and then he spilled in hot ropes against the back of Ronan’s tongue.
Ronan’s eyes fluttered shut, swallowing him down until Parker was too sensitive and had to pull back. He felt some measure of gratification when Ronan sagged against him, burying his face in Parker’s stomach. Letting his hand fall to the back of Ronan’s head, Parker’s foot lowered back to the ground, and he did nothing but hold him, fingers tangled in Ronan’s hair.
His heart filled his chest, dangerously.
“Do you want me to help you out?” Parker asked, uncharacteristically soft and kind for the raging emotions inside him.
Ronan didn’t look up, just pressed wet kisses to the expanse of Parker’s skin. “I don’t need it.”
For a moment, Parker was angry. For a moment, he thought it was Ronan’s self-sacrificing bullshit all over again. Then he turned his body slightly, his crotch pressing to Parker’s leg. Through the fabric of his pajamas, he could feel the wet spot.
“You came.”
Ronan groaned, nodding again. “Do you want me to leave?”
“I told you,” Parker said, and turned his foot, digging his fingers harder into Ronan’s hair and tugging to lift his face and capture his gaze, “if you came here, it was because you’re planning to stay.”
Ronan licked his puffy lips, then nodded. He reached up to swipe his hand under his nose. He wasn’t crying, but he looked close. “Can I sleep in bed with you?”
Parker would hate himself for all of this later. Right then, he gathered Ronan close, and pretended like he’d never have to give him up again.
Chapter Seven
Ronan woke in the morning with the intention of leaving. On a normal night, Ronan rarely slept, and it was only to get up with the sun and lay there wide awake in spite of his bone-deep, crushing exhaustion. It was no different in Parker’s bed, except now Parker was there, pressed against him and holding him like he’d die before letting Ronan leave. It was everything he had ever wanted. Parker was the one man who had mattered to him in ways no one else ever had.
He tried to turn on his side, but his legs refused to cooperate, and he became profoundly aware of the tingles in his feet and the sluggish way they moved. He felt a momentary panic, a small voice in his head that told him none of this was normal. His body wasn’t moving the way it was supposed to.
Parker turned toward him, dead to the world, snuffling closer until his face was buried in Ronan’s neck. His stiff fingers didn’t even matter in that moment, not when he could still wrap his arms around the other man and cling tightly. His eyes closed, and he turned his nose into Parker’s hair, breathing in the scent of him. “Don’t go.” The words came out a sharp whisper, unbidden, desperate.
Parker was supposed to be asleep, but he tensed, then lifted his head just slightly. “Give me a reason to stay.”
“Me.” Ronan knew then, every single one of his defenses had come crashing down. Every single wall he’d built was now ruins at their feet. Parker blinked his soft blue eyes, and Ronan’s heart thrashed against his ribs. “Me. I’m the reason. Come home.”
Parker’s face spasmed in pain, and his hand slid around Ronan’s waist, fingers pressing into his skin. “You think that’s enough?”
“No,” Ronan answered him with a sharp laugh. “When have I ever felt like I was enough?”
“But you’re asking me anyway,” Parker pointed out.
Ronan closed his eyes and nodded. “I don’t think I’ve spent a day since I turned fourteen where I wasn’t in love with you, okay? Maybe even before that. And I don’t know how to make the last fourteen years right…”
Parker moved his hand to push up so he was hovering over Ronan’s chest. His stump was close enough to touch his chin, his muscle there hard, but the skin impossibly soft, and Ronan leaned into it. “No one is asking for that. You can’t take away what happened. You can’t go back in time and stop the fire or heal Fitz’s scars. I don’t even think he wants that.”
Ronan choked on a laugh. “I don’t think so either.”
“You can’t go back and undo the never-ending pain I felt watching you but not being able to have you.” Parker’s eyes closed, and Ron
an had never hated himself more, and he pulled back. “You can be better.”
“I want to,” Ronan said with a bitter, ragged laugh. “I’ll do anything, Parker. Jesus, I will do literally anything if you just come home.”
Parker dragged his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down so hard, the skin around the marks turned white. “Marry me.”
Ronan almost laughed again—it was a damn near thing. “Marry you?”
Parker’s eyes were cold, determined. His jaw was set in the way Ronan knew too fucking well over the course of their lifetime. “Marry me. You want me, then you get me, but it means keeping me. And I get to keep you. You want me to give up everything else beyond Cherry Creek that I could have…”
“I’d go with you,” Ronan choked out.
Parker raised a brow. “Oh, I know you would. But you want to be home.”
Ronan swallowed thickly and glanced away. He did. He wanted to be home. He wanted to work in the preserve and take care of the outskirts of Cherry Creek and exist—maybe not directly in everyone’s life, but near. And he didn’t want to be alone.
“I’ll go home with you if you take me home as your husband.”
Ronan heard the ferocity in Parker’s voice. He heard the challenge in his words. But beneath that, he also heard the sound of a man who had loved him for just as long. Fourteen years. Maybe more.
“Can I have coffee first?”
Parker laughed, dropping fully onto Ronan, who bore it all with nothing more than a soft grunt, then Parker turned his head and kissed him, full, deep, sloppy, and perfect. “You can have coffee, and then I can blow you. Then we can look up how the fuck we do this quickie wedding thing, because I’m not going to wait for plans.”
Ronan nodded, because he meant what he said—he’d give Parker anything. Letting out another soft grunt as Parker climbed over him, he watched as Parker straightened his back and lifted his arms above his head. Ronan didn’t try to hide the way he was staring, the way he drank in the long lines of Parker’s naked body.