Love Him Free: Book One of On The Market

by Lindsey, E. M.

  And it wasn’t until years later he realized his mistake. Levi wasn’t looking to hurt Simon. Not at first. He was goading Simon into making a choice because he wanted to be chosen. The pain of the realization hit him, the pain that Levi would use his religion and faith in that choice gut him like no other.

  He had no way of explaining to Levi that choosing that path, turning away from assimilation, from what was easy, from the things that brought him some measure of joy—it was all for Levi. It was all to hold up the end of a flimsy bargain so Simon wouldn’t spend the rest of his life totally alone.

  They were both a mess. They had both stripped each other of all comfort and safety that could be had between siblings. Simon resented him for being put in that position, for being asked to give up something important to him just to make Levi happy. And Levi resented him because he felt like Simon never cared enough.

  They were better now. Now that Levi had met James Motel and found some sort of peace and happiness with whatever they had, there was room for healing. But Simon knew they could never have what they once might have been able to—if their dad hadn’t died, if their mother hadn’t been so selfish, if Bubbe hadn’t worked herself into an early grave.

  But, it was what it was.

  Friday evening, Simon found himself with his head in Rocco’s lap, kippah on the coffee table, Rocco’s thick fingers brushing through his curls. He was full from a hot meal—something he hadn’t had on a Friday since before he left school. Simon felt peace during the Shabbat for the first time in years. He felt safe, and cherished. He felt like himself. And Rocco seemed more than content to allow Simon those hours to himself—not demanding anything of him, just existing with him.

  By morning, he felt rested from a long night—even though they did nothing besides hold each other. His sexual needs were Pavlovian trained, responding too easily and too perfectly to warm lips and firm hands. But Rocco didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t push Simon where Simon didn’t want to be pushed, and he respected the importance of that night.

  Simon woke with the dawn, a prayer of thanks on his lips that he was able to feel Rocco’s hand cupping his thigh without tumbling over the edge. Rocco didn’t sleep much longer than him after that, either. Simon went to the bathroom, and when he came out, he found the bedroom empty. He could hear noise from down the hall, though, and followed the smell of coffee and browned butter to the kitchen.

  Rocco greeted him with a kiss—quick, perfunctory, but warm and now familiar which made his head spin. Simon was falling hard, and it terrified him a little because he didn’t exactly know what he meant to Rocco.

  He’d been there less than a week, knew him only a few weeks beyond that through stilted chat and text messages. But he didn’t feel like a stranger. Something in Simon’s gut told him to trust the other man. That little voice said if he asked—if he just said his fears aloud, or on his hands in his slowly measured signs—Rocco would tell him.

  And he should, but there was another voice speaking softly about the glass shattering. He didn’t want this bubble to pop yet. He wanted to be more than just a handful of videos that might save him from crushing debt, and something to keep Rocco occupied while his lawyer sorted out the rest of his life. He would live if this whole thing was nothing more than that—but Rocco would take pieces of him when he left.

  He pushed the thought aside for the quiet afternoon. Rocco didn’t seem in a hurry to go anywhere, leaving only to walk James before he settled right back in. He kept Simon close, he pet cat Rocco whenever he deigned them worthy of time, he threw the ball for pocket James when the pup started getting restless. He cooked lunch, and helped prep for dinner so Simon could cook the moment Shabbat ended. Rocco looked at him with soft, fond eyes, and he kissed him a lot. It felt…too good to be true.

  Simon stretched like a cat as the sun dipped low on the horizon. He felt the anxiety buzz forming around the base of his spine, that familiar, antsy hum when the sun began to set. It would be another hour or so—maybe more—before it was finished, but he was anxious to do more. Simon appreciated that his faith required these reprieves from life. He didn’t always do what he was meant to do—technically. He didn’t always think about himself. He didn’t contemplate ways to be a better person, or a better Jew, or a better brother.

  Sometimes he didn’t even feel grateful for this life—or to be alive.

  Yet, he always walked away feeling like the Shabbat had meant something.

  Breathing in motes of dust floating in a warm stream of sunlight, Simon turned onto his side. He felt Rocco startle a little, then glanced up to see him reading on his phone. Rocco’s cheeks went faintly pink, offering a sheepish smile as he flashed his screen toward Simon. It looked something like a webcomic, and Simon felt a rush of affection toward this man. This giant, stoic-faced, aloof man who also liked nerdy comics and had a pocket sized dog and, for whatever reason, just really seemed to like Simon.

  Once upon a time, he had wanted to know him beyond his personality in films. He never felt brave enough to make up stories about what he might be like when he wasn’t Sylent, the imposing bear taking twinks apart one hand job at a time, but he had been curious. He wanted to know if he’d still like Rocco if he got to see deeper layers of him.

  It was better than he could have expected. He was just as arrogant and spoiled as he was on Twitter, but he was also softer. He was kinder, and sweeter—he was brave, and he was protective. He could read the subtle motions of Simon’s body language, and he instinctively knew when to step closer, and when to pull away.

  Simon hadn’t realized how much he’d needed that in his life, but was hard to know those things when he’d never let anyone close. He’d spent most of his years actively avoiding attention, but with Rocco—he wanted it. He wanted that laser focus on him, those dark eyes holding him in place, the mouth devouring every single one of his kisses like he was starving for them.

  Fuck.

  He was falling in love.

  Pushing up onto his elbow, he let Rocco take him into his arms. He didn’t have to move, he just had to give in. Rocco used his strength against Simon, but Simon didn’t care. He wanted it—wanted to feel overwhelmed by every inch of this man’s body.

  Rocco’s thighs beneath him were powerful, they spread to let Simon fit between. His head dipped in, lips already parted, and Simon was ready for him. The heat of Rocco’s kisses always seemed to consume him, but in the best way. He let Rocco tip his head back, let Rocco nudge his lips further apart, let his tongue fuck into his mouth in a rhythm that Simon knew—on instinct more than anything—that he wanted in other places.

  “Please,” he groaned, unable to stop himself. His fingers dug into Rocco’s shoulders, and he spread his legs because he was close. Again. And Rocco knew.

  “Simon,” Rocco said.

  The orgasm crested…

  “Hey, Simon?” Levi’s words punctuated the charged air between him and Rocco just before James began to bark.

  The orgasm retreated, leaving a painful ache behind, and Simon fought to cover the space in his lounge pants that was furiously tented and wet with precome. Levi appeared only a second later, and Simon knew there was no way he nor Rocco looked put together. He watched it all dawn on Levi’s face, watched the color drain a bit, watched him take a step back.

  “Oh fuck, were you…”

  “No,” Simon ground out. Not yet. But he had been too close to begging for it. “Is there something you need?”

  Levi looked vaguely embarrassed as he nodded toward Rocco, then cleared his throat. His eyes held a gleam of mischief, and Simon knew this wasn’t the last he’d hear of what his brother had just walked in on. “I brought over some stuff from the truck that didn’t sell last night. I left it in the kitchen downstairs and wanted to let you know I was ready to come back to work. At least for prep.”

  Simon glanced at Rocco who was clearly not following Levi’s cadence of speech, so he quickly interpreted before answering his brother, first in
speech, then in sign. “Actually, I was going to call you to see if you could handle prep tonight.”

  Rocco stood up and turned to Simon, laying a hand on his cheek, touching the edge of his mouth with his thumb. ‘I’m going to walk James.’

  Simon nodded. ‘Okay. Sorry, he doesn’t normally burst in here like that.’ It was a half-lie, because Levi did have a habit of bursting in, trying to bust Simon not following his own, ridged rules.

  Rocco quickly snapped his fingers for James, and the pup came to attention, primly turning so Rocco could attach the leash. ‘Nice to see you again,’ he signed to Levi, then headed out the door.

  When it was shut, Levi turned to his brother with a sigh. “I have to learn ASL now, don’t I?”

  Simon bit his lip as he shrugged. “I guess you don’t have to, but…”

  “Is he sticking around?” Levi gave the armchair a dubious look.

  “For fuck’s sake, we didn’t have sex in it,” Simon groused.

  “Have you had sex at all?” Levi sank down, but kept to the edge of it like he didn’t believe him.

  Simon looked down at his hands. “It’s not exactly your business, but no.”

  “No, or not yet?” Levi pressed. “He’s a porn star, Si. He’s not going to be into this cute virgin act forever.”

  Simon fixed his brother with a hard stare. “Are you trying to hurt me on purpose?”

  Levi opened his mouth, then closed it again with a heavy breath. “No, sorry. I’m really not. It’s just old habits, you know?”

  Simon did know, but he hated that sharp words and cruelty were the most ingrained habits between them. “I like him. And I don’t know if he’s going to stick around. I hope so, but it’s new, and it doesn’t feel right to put that kind of pressure on him with everything he’s going through.”

  “Yeah, I saw,” Levi sighed out, and it didn’t surprise Simon that he’d gone snooping. “That’s a huge pile of bullshit.” He stared down at his hands, flexed his fingers, made a few nonsense shapes with them. “Is sign language hard?”

  “Yes,” Simon told him, because he wasn’t about to lie. “It’s just like any other language.”

  Levi picked at the edge of his nail, then put his hands back in his lap. “Is he worth it?”

  “I don’t know.” It was the most honest answer he could give. “I think being in customer service, it’s a good language to learn. You never know who might need it.” He swallowed thickly, then said, “I hope he is.”

  At his quiet statement—raw with truth and fear—Levi looked up at him. His eyes were softer than usual, his tone quieter when he spoke. “I hope so too. And I’ll take prep tonight. Do you want me to open the store tomorrow?”

  Simon opened his mouth to tell Levi no, to tell him it wasn’t his responsibility any longer, but he knew that wasn’t the case. He’d been working hard and standing in Levi’s way to protect him from the truth. Levi knew the bakery was in trouble, but he never knew how badly. He knew Simon was giving up his life to try and make this work, but he didn’t know it was because the bakery wasn’t left to the both of them—it was Simon’s alone.

  Because Bubbe believed Simon could shoulder the pain of debt and loss better than Levi could. Simon had a moment of anger—of desperation, of wanting someone to go soft on him just because. Everyone in his family had laid their problems on his shoulders because he had been strong enough to take it—but he didn’t always want to be strong.

  Sometimes he wanted to be able to break under Levi’s anger, under his mother’s refusal to live for her children, under Bubbe’s suffocating care.

  He knew he never would—not now, not after this long, but he was tired.

  “I wouldn’t mind a day off,” he admitted. “Will your truck do alright?”

  Levi blushed and he glanced away, and Simon realized it was embarrassment. “I think I’ll be fine if I take a day.”

  “It’s doing well, isn’t it?” Simon asked, and though he didn’t mean it that way, it sounded like an accusation. “My sales have been lower.”

  “I don’t want this place to buckle under competition, but I want to succeed, Simon. You didn’t give me that truck to fail!” He could hear the sharpness of Levi’s words rise with his defense, so Simon got up and crossed the room, kneeling beside his brother.

  He touched Levi’s arm, felt the warmth of it under his long sleeve. “I want you to do so well, you never need to look at this place again.”

  Levi stared down at him a long moment. “I don’t want you to suffer anymore.”

  “I’m not,” Simon promised. “I have a plan.” He knew Levi would be devastated when it was all said and done, but he’d do nothing except pray until he told his brother the truth. He had to believe Levi was old enough now, mature enough, had been around all of this long enough to understand why the bakery had to close.

  They were one of the oldest originally owned shops in Cherry Creek. That had to be enough.

  “I’m sorry,” Levi said after a second. He stood, so Simon rose with him, and he took a step toward the door. “It’s been kind of a week, and it’s all been good but…this is so new, you know?”

  “I do,” Simon told him, because he was feeling it too.

  “I’m grateful for what you did.” Levi reached up absently and pulled the tie from his hair. It fell in soft curls around his shoulders before he gathered it again, and Simon recognized the anxious gesture for what it was. “I think this could work.”

  “I think so too,” Simon offered. “Thank you for the food. I’m going to go stay with Rocco for the night.”

  Levi’s smirk was back, though he looked a bit horrified. “At the Lodge?”

  “No.” Simon shook his head with a grin. “He rented out one of those cottages by Hopewell Manor and he’ll be staying there until he…” He didn’t finish the sentence, because he didn’t know how to. He didn’t know what Rocco was doing next, and he was still too afraid to wonder, let alone ask. “But you and James won’t run into me.”

  “I…thanks,” Levi said, sounding relieved.

  Simon laughed. “Yeah. Trust me, I don’t want that either. Did you tell James about the dog, though?”

  Levi’s grin went wicked. “Not yet. He was mostly occupied when Theo was dog-sitting. I figure maybe next time we run into you guys, we’ll make a proper introduction.”

  Simon chuckled once more, determined not to ask what his brother meant, and moved to the door with Levi. He wasn’t going to open it—he was taking strides, but he wasn’t giving up all the pieces of himself and his life for the sake of being more comfortable.

  Levi didn’t seem to mind this time, though. He opened the door, then hesitated before dropping his hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Dinner soon?”

  “Yes,” Simon agreed.

  “I’ll look into the sign language thing.” It was Levi’s last promise before he walked out and the door shut behind him. Simon glanced at the clock and saw it was less than an hour before sunset. It was enough time to sit just a bit longer, feel just a little more, and do his best not to worry about what was coming next.

  Chapter Twelve

  Simon carried his bag, and Rocco carried the rest of the stuff—a quick trip to the grocery store and Simon knew Rocco had over-shopped, but it was fun not to care. It had been years, far too many to count, since he’d done something like this. He didn’t sleep away from home, he didn’t trust the day-to-day of Chametz to anyone else. Not even Levi. But he had to trust his brother could handle things.

  He knew Levi would keep Kyle in line—he also knew that James would be around if Levi was spending the day with Kyle. There would be three people taking care of what was left, for the short while it was still standing.

  And Simon was giving himself this.

  A small thrill rushed up his spine and spread warm through his limbs as he crossed the threshold into the house. It was small and cozy, the air slightly chilled from the open windows. It was surrounded by trees which let very little sunlight
in, and it felt private. Like their own personal island that no one in the world could find.

  He knew this was more than just a vacation. He knew that under the cover of darkness, he was going to give Rocco his body for public consumption. He’d make money and pull himself out of the hole he’d dug—the one his bubbe had started and left him—and then…he didn’t know what. If he was lucky, he’d have something left after the sale of the building, and he didn’t think he’d need to sell the apartment, but part of him wanted to.

  It would be like hacking off a limb, leaving that place, but it was time. His past felt infected, and there was no other cure but to remove its hold on him.

  Swiping his hand over his forehead, Simon felt sweat in spite of the fact that it wasn’t hot. He was nervous. He could hear Rocco in the kitchen, the heavy thud as he put things away, the way he walked hard on the floors. Rocco murmured sometimes—unconscious, quiet noises he probably didn’t realize he was making, but Simon loved them. They were a reminder that he was there, that he was comfortable enough with Simon to let himself relax.

  Swallowing thickly, Simon explored the rest of the house and found one smaller bedroom with a blacked-out window, and he knew instantly what it was for. His heart hammered in his chest, but in spite of his nerves and fear, his cock was hard. He backed out, then found the master bedroom, dropping his stuff in the corner near Rocco’s suitcase. As he stepped back, he felt a tug on his pant leg.

  James was there, looking up with big, black doe-eyes peeking through his tufts of fur. Simon picked him up and cuddled him close. “You are so much cuter than human James.” The dog huffed against him, and Simon stroked fingers through his coat. “I have a feeling he’s soft like this deep down—but I also have a feeling only a couple people get to see it. It’s probably better that way.”