The Coil

by Gilbert, L. A.

  Simon’s reassurance earlier that night and his oddly endearing nervousness during their meal had led him to one thought: fuck feeling intimidated. He may not have the cash or the security, but he could sure as hell be Simon’s man. There were ways to take care of people other than financially. He couldn’t bring home bacon, but he could make Simon scream in the bedroom, he could be that shoulder to lean on, and he could be the best friend Simon ever had.

  As worked up as he felt, he kept the pace slow. He leaned up on one hand, just above Simon’s shoulder. His other held Simon’s flushed cheek with his thumb gently soothing over warm skin as he moved, his back arching and his head hanging low with his bangs in his eyes. His hand moved down to gently clasp Simon’s throat, and Simon’s eyes fluttered open.

  That’s right. I’m your man. He didn’t tighten his grip on Simon’s throat, but his movements became less languid and more forceful. Simon’s breath hitched and became ragged, and Mattie had to grit his teeth against the coil of pleasure forming in his groin as Simon moaned and gripped desperately at his shoulders and back.

  He went down on his elbows, their chests rubbing together, so he could press his face into Simon’s throat. The sudden vice-like grip on his shoulders and the feel of Simon’s hips bucking against his own was the signal he was waiting for. With Simon on the cusp of losing it, he let go and fucked him good and hard through his orgasm. His own followed a millisecond later.

  A sweaty, panting mess, Mattie collapsed beside Simon and raked his hands through his hair as he attempted to catch his breath. He tingled all over and felt fucking incredible. He glanced over with no small amount of pride when Simon near enough mirrored his thoughts out loud.

  “THAT was….” Simon broke off and laughed. “That was incredible. Just… wow.”

  Mattie bit his lip against an obnoxiously proud grin. “You uh, you were really into that.”

  “You caught that, did you?” Simon laughed breathlessly.

  Mattie shrugged. “Most guys tend to lean either one way or the other. I thought I had you pegged. I’m not so sure now.”

  Simon turned his head on the pillow, watching Mattie as he caught his breath. “You did have me pegged.”

  “Then you put on one hell of a show.”

  Simon looked up at his ceiling, letting out a deep breath and smiling lazily. “I guess you unpegged me. I’m more of a fifty-fifty man now.”

  “I kind of feel like thumping my chest.”

  “I kind of feel like giving you a standing ovation.”

  “Aw, what the hell.” He thumped his chest, and Simon laughed. “This is one hell of comfy mattress.”

  Simon winked. “Memory foam.”

  “Ooh. Nice, man.”

  “Yup.”

  Mattie watched as Simon squinted and leaned up on one elbow to search for his glasses on the nightstand closest to him. “Here,” Mattie supplied. He’d gently pulled them off and set them aside before rocking Simon’s world.

  Simon reached for them with a quiet “thanks” but looked at Mattie quizzically when they weren’t immediately handed over. He had to smile and close his eyes as Mattie placed them gently on his face for him, then climbed out of the bed, presumably to clean up.

  “Uh… bathroom?” Mattie hesitated, still naked, sweaty, and a little roguish by the bedroom door.

  Simon raised an eyebrow, teasing. “I already showed you where the bathroom was, if I recall correctly.”

  “Nah, I was looking at your ass the entire time.”

  Simon barked a laugh and shook his head. He pointed over to the door that joined his bedroom to his own bathroom. “It’s that way, one track.”

  “Two bathrooms?” Mattie strolled over to the bathroom and left the door open behind him. “Well I do declare, Mister Castle!” he cried in his best Southern belle voice.

  Simon snorted and collapsed back on the mattress. “Dork,” he muttered affectionately. He heard the faucet turn on and off, and gladly took the damp washrag handed to him to swipe over his stomach. He felt the mattress dip next to him and looked over at the sight of Mattie with his arms resting behind his head, eyes closed, looking sated, relaxed, and utterly gorgeous.

  Mattie opened his eyes blearily, looking suspiciously like the cat that got the cream. “You all right?” he asked softly, a frown appearing on his brow. “Did I hurt you?”

  Simon shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I, uh….” He swallowed and moved closer across the mattress. He cast Mattie a quick, cautious look before easing his arm around Mattie’s middle and finally giving in. He laid his head across Mattie’s chest, his shoulders drooping and relaxing instantly.

  He let out a deep, weary but contented sigh as Mattie’s fingers stroked through his hair and across his back. It felt so goddamn good to be held. The feel of Mattie’s skin under his cheek, the regular thump of his heart, and the steady rise and fall of his chest was the safest feeling in the world.

  “This is nice,” Mattie crooned.

  Simon hummed in response; it was more than nice. “It’s been so long. I’m always the one to plan ahead. I’m always worrying,” he said in a voice that was not completely steady. He cleared his throat before continuing. “It’s difficult, being the one in charge, the one to comfort… this is nice,” he repeated Mattie’s words.

  He felt Mattie curl beneath him slightly, and a kiss was pressed against his temple. He closed his eyes tight for a second, worried that he might actually ruin what had been a very pleasant evening by inexplicably tearing up.

  “Am I that person now?” Mattie said softly, his fingers still combing soothingly through Simon’s hair.

  “That person?”

  “The person you tell your secrets to,” Mattie murmured quietly.

  Now his eyes really were stinging. He nodded against Mattie’s chest and laughed softly at himself for getting emotional. “You just might be.”

  “Good. I wanna be that guy for you.”

  In no time at all, the few hours alone together had ticked by, and it was, unfortunately, time to call it a night. More than ever Simon didn’t want the evening to end, but he needed to pick up Jamie. Now they sat in his car, the engine idling outside of Mattie’s apartment block.

  “So, this is where I say I had a great time,” Mattie provided.

  “Usually, yes.”

  “I had a fucking awesome time.”

  Simon laughed. “Me too. We’ll do it again soon?”

  “Absolutely, come here.” Mattie unbuckled and leaned close. He gently gripped the back of Simon’s neck and kissed him. “See you soon.” He winked and climbed out of the car, missing Simon’s troubled expression.

  MATTIE was at the apartment entrance when Simon climbed out of the car. At the sound of the car door closing, Mattie looked back over his shoulder to see Simon following him.

  “Hey, miss me already?” he teased.

  “No—I mean, I—I want to, um….”

  “You know, you’re either very wordy, or you can’t speak at all,” Mattie laughed softly.

  “Please just… don’t get offended, okay?”

  Mattie frowned. “What’s going on?”

  Simon looked ridiculously uncomfortable for a few seconds before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. He pulled out a twenty and three tens, hesitated a moment, and then held it forward, urging Mattie to take it.

  “I don’t want you reading into anything, I don’t want you misinterpreting this, and I don’t want you to be offended or proud right now. You said you had no food in your cupboards, and as a, um, boyfriend of sorts, I can’t let that happen. So, here.” He extended his hand forward again, urging Mattie to take the money. “Please, just take it.”

  “You’re giving me money?” Abruptly, there were several feelings at war within him. His pride was rearing its ugly head. There was a hint of relief, a good measure of embarrassment, but mostly, he was attempting to wrap his head around the word “boyfriend” having finally popped out of Simon’s mou
th.

  “Giving, loaning, whatever makes you more comfortable, but yes, you are taking this money whether you like it or not.”

  Mattie’s lips lifted at one corner in a sad smile. He took the money and watched Simon’s shoulders sag in relief. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  Simon finally smiled and pulled Mattie into hug. “You know you can always ask, right?” he said quietly. “I know it’s awkward, but please don’t be afraid to ask if you need to.” He hummed happily when Mattie completed the hug by wrapping his arms around his neck. He rubbed his hands in soothing circles along Mattie’s back before pulling away a little, gently touching the back of Mattie’s elbows and looking him in the eye. “All right?”

  Mattie nodded, looking down at his hand that held the cash. “I just don’t want you to think I’m using you or—”

  “Hey,” he interrupted. “If you’re the guy I tell my secrets to, then I’m the guy you lean on when you need help, understand?” He snorted. “Hell, how long have we been seeing each other? Four, five months? And tonight’s the first time I cooked for you. I’ve been over at your place three nights a week, eating you out of house and home. If anything, I owe you.”

  Mattie swallowed but pulled the twenty separate and held it out for Simon to take back. “Thirty’s enough for groceries, Simon. I get paid soon.”

  Simon took his hand and pushed it back. “Then buy some art supplies; I haven’t seen you drawing or working on any new paintings in a while, and I have to say that bothers me.”

  “Why?” Mattie asked quietly.

  “Because you’re talented and because it’s something you love to do.”

  Mattie looked back down at his hands, afraid to speak in case his voice cracked. He nodded and folded the bills, putting them in the back pocket of his jeans. He reached forward, tugged Simon close by his open jacket, and nuzzled his nose against Simon’s cheek affectionately. He whispered one more thank you, offered him another kiss goodnight, and then watched Simon climb back in his car and drive away.

  Later that night in bed, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t lie awake worrying about money or Simon’s feelings for him. His head hit the pillow free of worries for once, and the familiar anxiety that usually hindered his dreams, taking the form of a frayed, coiled rope, was absent.

  TO SAY his nerves were on edge would be an understatement. The hardest part was over, he supposed. His mother had arrived a few hours ago, and since then she and Jamie had been in his playroom, getting to know one another in person. He’d stayed with them for the first half an hour, worried his mom might accidently forget herself and try to hug him, which was an entirely reasonable thing for any grandmother to do under normal circumstances, but not when Jamie was so clearly wary of this new person.

  Simon had to give her some credit. She hadn’t overstepped once, and he thought that perhaps her biggest worry might be that Jamie would associate her with the scary woman who had sat next to him at recess those few weeks ago. Whether Jamie recalled that event or not, he seemed quite content to at least show her Gizmo, his beloved hamster. The few times he had taken a break from filling party bags and laying out markers and crayons, he’d joined them to check that all was running smoothly, and it was.

  He stood now outside the playroom and smiled at the sight of them together. His mother had crouched down to sit on the floor, and was stroking Gizmo’s head with one finger as Jamie held him in both hands proudly, expounding on what a good hamster he was. Just about every time he caught his mother’s eye, she looked about two seconds away from tears. He was hesitant to walk away. He didn’t like the thought of his mother struggling to stand without help, and Jamie needed to get changed, but a knock at his front door pulled him away from the picturesque scene.

  He opened the door to greet Sarah and reached to help her with her carrier bags, ushering her in.

  “I’m sorry I’m late. My car wouldn’t start.”

  “When are you going to scrap that thing?”

  “When I can afford to buy a new one. Is there a lot left to do?”

  “Not really, just the food.”

  “Is your mom here?” she asked carefully.

  Simon nodded. “In the playroom with Jamie.”

  “How’s it going?”

  One corner of his mouth turned up in a sad smile. “Really well, actually.”

  “Hey….” She touched his forearm. “If it’s going so well then why the face?”

  He lifted one shoulder, emptying one of the carrier bags onto the kitchen counter. “It’s just nice seeing Jamie with his grandmother, and it’s something he could have had years ago if I’d pulled my head out of my ass sooner.”

  “You had your reasons, Simon.”

  “I know,” he said softly, nodding. He turned to lean against the counter and look her in the eye. “I just really want today to go well. It’s a big day.”

  “Everything’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

  “There’s so much that could go wrong.”

  She rolled her eyes and lightly slapped his upper arm to get him out of the way of the counter. “It’s a party, Simon.”

  “With five autistic children.”

  “And your son’s teacher, your mother, and two other parents. It’s not like we’re outnumbered.”

  “I know, I know. I just feel like this is the first birthday Jamie’s really going to remember. I want it to go well. I want it to be normal.”

  “And why wouldn’t it be?” She pulled out several slices of bread onto the chopping board and opened the drawer that held the knives, forks, and spoons. She knew her way around the kitchen as if she lived there herself.

  “I….” He sighed and threw the dishtowel he’d snagged up and been twisting between his hands down on the counter. “I’m being stupid.”

  “Yes. Sorry, but yes.”

  “I don’t know why I’m being like this.”

  “Well….” Sarah turned and offered him a sympathetic smile. “Your family is a group of three again. You’re, I don’t know.” She shrugged. “You’re rebuilding a relationship and introducing someone else into Jamie’s home life. I can understand why you might feel uneasy.”

  “Yeah,” he scoffed. “‘Uneasy’ is one way of putting it.”

  “Just… remember that these kids pick up on other people’s moods all too easily. If you’re tense, chances are Jamie’s going to feel tense too.”

  His shoulders slumped. “You’re right.”

  “Okay, look at me. Take a deep breath in….” She took a deep breath and then let it out with a laugh when Simon glared at her. “Jamie’s going to have a great time, and so are you. So relax!”

  “All right!” He laughed. “I’m relaxing.”

  “Good. Now why don’t you carry on with these while I go introduce myself to your mom and say hi to Jamie?”

  “They can wait a few minutes; I’ll introduce you. Then I have to go get Jamie into his party clothes.”

  “Party clothes?”

  Simon smiled. “I got him these little khaki pants and a sweater vest with a picture of a train on it. He’ll love it.”

  “If you say so,” she laughed.

  “Okay, so I’ll at least force him to love it long enough for me to take a picture. Then he’ll probably be back in his favorite PJ’s.”

  “That does sound more likely.”

  “Smartass,” he sighed. “All right, come meet my mom.”

  HE HAD no idea what he was looking for. Just what did five-year-old kids like these days, anyway? In a bid to distract himself from thoughts about tests, art school, and money, he’d taken himself off to the mall to search for a great birthday gift for Jamie. Now, Mattie found himself not only stressed about his transcripts and finishing up a portfolio and entrance essay he wasn’t even sure he was going to submit, but about what kind of an impression a teddy bear or train set would make to a five-year-old.

  He mentally shook himself. It was done now, and there was no point in getting worked
up about it. He’d taken the tests, done his absolute best. Now all he could do was sit back and wait a minimum of four weeks for his results.

  He mulled over what a long journey it’d been for him: nearly two years of adult reading and writing classes, three or four months of hard-core studying, and five long-winded tests that could make all the difference to his future.

  And here he was, close to having the qualifications that, at the very least, could enable him to get a better-paying job, if not start him off on the path to his original goal: art school. Not to mention the shopping for a birthday gift for his boyfriend’s son.

  At the thought of meeting Jamie again in a capacity as more than the guy from the diner, but as someone important in his dad’s life, he had to stave off the nerves that wanted to overwhelm him. He thought that he was fairly likeable, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t met the kid before, but he was also so desperate for Jamie to like him. If Jamie didn’t, then his relationship with Simon didn’t stand much of a chance.

  He stopped in place when he caught sight of what might just be the perfect gift; not too much but something Jamie might genuinely like. It was a set of special edition Lord of the Rings top trump cards. Surprised that toy stores would even still stock Lord of The Rings merchandise, he picked them up—not even bothering to look at the price because they were absolutely the perfect gift—and made his way over to one of the cash registers.

  Now it was only a question of having the balls to wrap them up, slap a bow on there, and deliver them. There was the true dilemma: give them to Simon tomorrow, or nip over there during the party—just for a few minutes, mind you—to give them to Jamie himself.

  At first he’d attempted to kid himself into thinking he’d been invited, that his offering to be there for moral support had been taken seriously. But honestly? He couldn’t say for sure if it had. Simon had laughed it off, too wrapped up in his worry about how the party would go to consider his suggestion for what it was.

  What he couldn’t decide on, and what was making him hesitate about just showing up like any other boyfriend would, was whether—invite or no—his appearance would be a happy surprise for Simon. It could play out one of two ways: Simon would become awkward and overly polite but ultimately be unhappy at his presence, or Simon would be relieved.