by Mia Kerick
“Bodie, if it’s alright, I need you all the way naked,” I finally urge, my voice tender and pleading. The last thing I want is to further agitate him.
“Yeah…yeah, okay.” He agrees more readily than I expect, and he helps me slide off his briefs.
Once he’s naked, I knead his straining thighs until the muscles there loosen. When I separate his legs, I meet with little resistance. He’s looks so incredible naked—powerfully muscled, his dick hard and ready. But still, I need to slow this down. For both of our sakes. Bodie needs time to adjust to this raw intimacy, and I want to savor it. I rest my hand lightly on his already dripping cock and lift my chest so I’m leaning over him, gazing into his glistening eyes. “First, I want to kiss you.”
“I want that too,” he says, but bucks into my waiting hand. Apparently, a kiss isn’t all he wants.
I smile as I kiss him and begin to tease his cock, making tiny circles on the smooth top. When he throws back his head and gasps, I draw a single finger down his length to paint more featherlight shapes on his balls. He tries not to squirm but can’t stop himself. This loss of control is a good thing.
I drag my lips from his to ask, “Has anyone ever gone down on you before?”
“You mean, sucked me?” Bodie closes his eyes, as if this topic both pains and thrills him.
“Yes.”
“Not in nearly twenty years,” he replies, his message clear. “And never by my choice.”
Bodie’s response momentarily paralyzes me. Maybe he’s still frightened of this type of physical intimacy. Maybe he doesn’t want it. Maybe he’s not ready. “Will you let me?” I venture, needing his permission.
He nods. Just once, as is his way.
This is too important; I have to be sure. “Tell me that this is what you want.”
“It’s all I want right now.” He speaks quickly. Breathlessly.
Again, I find myself smiling. When I bend to kiss his mouth, he has already lifted it to meet mine. The prickly scruff on his face bristling against the softer growth on mine helps to keep me grounded. I know who I’m with—the man who has become my constant companion.
With soft kisses, I work my way to his chin and then down his neck to his chest. I devote considerable effort to nibbling his furry chest and belly. Despite his continued effort to be still and silent, Bodie writhes, all the while audibly breathing his desire. Every now and then a tiny whimper escapes him as he struggles to control years’ worth of need. And I can’t get enough of his roughhewn sweetness.
“Please, Ollie, don’t make me wait too much longer.”
Exactly the sentiment I was hoping for. I lower my mouth to his groin, but before I can start, Bodie drops his hand from where it had rested on the pillow above his head. He grasps the base of his cock. “Let me give it to you.”
I don’t stop to ask Bodie why he won’t let me take charge. And even in this instant, I recognize that time for this question may never come. I nod to myself and gladly accept what he offers. When I’ve taken in as much as I can, my tongue sliding in exploration and delight, his hand begins to move in my hair.
Bodie doesn’t buck or grind into my mouth. But he begs. “Please don’t stop.”
I have no intention of stopping until I get what I’m after: for Bodie to find bliss in the intimacy we share. His cock filling my mouth, I shake my head to let him know I won’t stop unless he asks me to.
“Never figured it’d be like this—not at all,” he blurts and starts to stroke himself, to enhance his pleasure. I try to help with my hand, but he utters breathlessly, “It’s okay. I can do it.”
I yank my hand away, not hurt but confused, as he has let me touch him before. Maybe this new act unsettles him in a way that reopens emotional wounds, causing him to need more physical control.
“It’s s-so g-good,” Bodie stammers. Then he hardens like steel—his balls drawing tight to his body—and gently pushes my mouth from his cock, as if the taste of his climax is too personal to share. He pulls me onto his chest and comes with my arms around his neck and my head pressed to the auburn fur on chest.
“Now I’ll do it to you.” Bodie hasn’t even basked in the afterglow for five seconds and he’s offering his mouth to me. It isn’t what I need. What I need is to understand why he holds back from being fully free with me. But then, I likely already know, and only time and trust can change it.
“Just hold me,” I murmur. Although I’m still wearing my shirt and jeans, he fits his naked body to my side.
“If that’s what you want,” he replies.
The many alcoholic drinks crafted for our celebratory evening guide me into a beguiling drowsiness. As I drift off to sleep, I wish the mixologists at Ivory Tower could create a cocktail that induces trust. Sadly, I suspect that Bodie and I could spend an entire evening guzzling that concoction and still come up short on faith in each other.
Chapter 13
Jack is in rare form tonight. He’s doing his best to charm the bootie shorts off two dancers from the local performing arts center at the table nearest the bar. Between teasing and giddy laughter, though, his blue marble eyes continually shift to me. As if he’s trying to make me jealous of the attention he’s bestowing on them. Not happening. I honestly don’t care.
“What is tonight’s special, babe?” he asks, approaching the bar. “I told those boys I’d serve them our very best cocktails.”
I don’t look up. “It’s a coconut-pineapple rum slush. You need two?”
“Make it three. Doubles. I’m in the mood to splurge.”
“Coming right up.”
Jack circles behind the bar. He steps up to me boldly and presses his groin against my ass. “Why ya gotta be so cold?”
Somehow, I refrain from spinning around and kneeing him in the crotch. “Back off, Jack. I’ll put the drinks on the bar when they’re ready.”
He isn’t pleased with my icy tone and makes no attempt to hide it. “I’ve got news for you, Oliver: I do what I please within these walls.” He grinds into my ass just to prove he can. “Let me take you home to my place tonight. I’ll fuck you into the morning hours and you’ll change your tune.”
I take a wide step to the side, well out of groping range. “Jack, I work for you. That’s all it’s ever gonna be with us.”
“Goddammit, Oliver.” He scurries toward me, grabs my shoulders, spins me, and takes my face in his hand, pinching my cheeks so I can’t look away. The menacing glimmer in his eyes is cruel. And hateful. A blanket of chills covers my chest and back. “I made one fucking minor mistake and you threw me away.”
It’s hard to sass him when he’s squeezing my face between his fingers and thumb. I shake my head until he lets go and bark, “Go back to your new fuck buddies, Jack.” I rub my face as I glance toward the door, in search of Bodie. I’m getting used to him saving my ass.
“He can’t help you—but if he dares to try, I’ll can him.” Jack’s smirk is smug enough to slap, although I only fantasize about doing so. “Big, tough, and stupid. Bouncers are a dime a dozen. Even if this one is particularly yummy.”
At these words, a new worry surfaces in my brain: that Bodie will notice Jack manhandling me and try to set him straight. This would only result in Bodie getting fired because, as Jack said, he does what he pleases inside his bar. Within these walls, we’re his property as surely as the booze on the bar, the cash register, and the cash inside it. Maybe it’s just as well that all I can see is Bodie’s broad back in the doorway, supervising the crowd outside. “I can’t make drinks if you’re mauling me.”
Jack steps back. “You’re seriously pissing me off these days, Tunstead. I’d hate to have to do something about it.” He retreats from behind the bar and I breathe a sigh of relief. But the relief is only temporary. Something’s up with Jack. His deep resentment of my relationship with Bodie is disconcerting.
“I’ll fix those drinks,” I call after him, always trying to appease for our jobs’ sakes.
When I glance up
from the blender, Jack is literally draped over Bodie’s shoulder. And Bodie is barely tolerating the attention—he’s as rigid as a soldier. Judging by the taut line of his lips and the way his hands are balled into fists, Bodie appears on the brink of lashing out. I want to help him. To rescue him like he has done for me. But what can I do? Jack’s our boss. When we’re here, he owns us.
I look away.
Bodie doesn’t get to his bike until almost three a.m.
“Where have you been?” I’m not pissed off that he’s late. I know him well enough to understand that if he’s late he had no choice about it.
Bodie doesn’t explain his tardiness. In fact, he’s quiet and sullen as he strides past me and climbs onto the bike. “Get on.”
After waiting for him half an hour alone in the dark, I’m in no mood to take his orders. “No. I think I’ll walk.”
“Have it your way, then.” He doesn’t start his bike.
I head toward the street, my head spinning.
How did I go from missing Bodie to fighting with him in the span of fifteen seconds?
I forgot how vulnerable it feels to walk alone in the dark. I can’t stop checking around me—mostly for Dale. He’d love to find me isolated like this, so he could finish what he started. But Dale isn’t the one to come upon me on the dark street. A sleek black BMW sedan stops on the shoulder of the road just ahead.
Jack hops out of his car and calls to me. “Walking home alone, babe? Must be trouble in paradise.” His laughter makes me cringe. “I’ll give you a lift.”
Before I can reply, Bodie pops out of the darkness. “I’m walking him home.”
Part of me wants to argue, to insist I’m perfectly fine on my own, but an ominous tone in Bodie’s voice tells me to keep my mouth shut.
“I saw Oliver alone on the road. You weren’t anywhere around, Bowden,” Jack counters.
Bodie steps up beside me and throws his arm over my shoulder. “I went to take a piss in the alley.” I’d bet my life he’s glaring at Jack beneath his Stetson.
“As you can see, I’m not alone, Jack, so you don’t have to worry about me.” I use my sweet voice, but judging by Jack’s livid expression, he isn’t buying it. Bodie and I haven’t ever held hands—we’re not by any stretch of the imagination boyfriends—but I grab his hand and pull him along the sidewalk. I shout over my shoulder, “Thanks for the offer, though.”
“This isn’t over.” Jack’s voice is sharp and tight in the manner of barely controlled fury. “I won’t fucking forget the way you’ve shut me out, Tunstead.” He jumps into his car, slams the door so hard I fear the window will shatter, and screeches onto the road.
Bodie crushes my hand in his grip as we walk toward the cottage.
“You’re gonna leave your bike at Surf’s Up?” I ask.
“Yep.”
“We can go back for it.”
“I’ll get it tomorrow.”
He’s walking briskly. I can hardly keep up. “What’s going on with you, Bodie?”
Bodie pulls the hat lower over his eyes. I can’t catch even a glimpse of them beneath the streetlights. “Let it go, Ollie.”
“Somebody’s being a closed book, and it’s not me.” I drop his hand and run the rest of the way home.
As soon as I reach the cottage, I let Hugo out and sit on the deck steps just so I don’t have to face Bodie who’s getting ready for bed inside. I’m sure this is exactly what he’s hoping for. I’ve finally met my match as a king of avoidance.
I stay out on the deck until I can no longer tolerate the mosquitos. “Come on, Hugo. Wanna keep me company tonight?”
“I do.” Bodie’s standing just inside the screen door. “I’m sorry, Oliver.”
On the rare occasion that Bodie uses my formal name, it sounds so wrong. I don’t like the distance it suggests, as if we’ve lost our bond. But the two of us truly do have a big picture problem—and an impediment to building a future together. We turn our trust on and off like it’s water from a faucet. And since it still looks like he’s going to leave at summer’s end, I don’t waste too much time wondering if we’re boyfriends or thinking of the cottage as our home.
I open the door and stride past Bodie to the sink to fill Hugo’s bowl. “Don’t be sorry. You’re just keeping your secrets to yourself.”
“I was wrong to do that.” He snags my arm when I step away from the sink.
As I stare up into his eyes, I’m aware that my gaze is raw. Missing its usual lack of candor. “So then tell me—what’s going on with us?”
Bodie just shakes his head.
“That’s what I figured.”
I yank my arm from his grasp, slam Hugo’s bowl on the floor, and head to the bathroom. “Where are you going, Oliver?”
“What does it matter?” I find refuge in the bathroom and slam the door to let Bodie know I’m off limits. But aren’t we always off limits to each other in the truest sense?
I fill the bathtub with piping hot water, strip off my work clothes, and step in. I refuse to validate my torturous thoughts, and instead silently recite lyrics to R.E.M. tunes. I take my time washing my hair and body, draining the tub and adding hot water as necessary to keep it warm. The sun is rising by the time I wrap a towel around my waist and leave the bathroom.
I’m shocked to find Bodie, still fully dressed, sleeping on his side on the hallway floor. “Bodie.” I bend and shake his shoulder. “You can’t sleep here. You’ll wreck your back.”
He looks up at me with sleep-weary eyes. “Was waiting for you. Need to talk.”
Once again, my heart softens toward the man with whom I’ve shared six weeks of days and nights. Meals and snacks. Some guarded physical pleasure. We can have the difficult conversation after we sleep. “Come lie down with me.”
I offer Bodie a hand, which he accepts. He stands and follows me to my bedroom. I help him pull his polo shirt over his shoulders and he steps out of his boots and jeans. We don’t even pull back the covers; we just drop onto our sides on the bed, facing each other.
“I liked holding your hand when we walked on the street last night,” I admit with a yawn.
“May I, then?” he asks, extending his arm.
I nod, and he grasps my hand. At this moment, a small connection is better than none at all. We watch one another, not warily, but with solemn eyes, until sleep comes.
Chapter 14
I’m used to waking up alone; my state of being for almost as long as I can remember, with a few mornings of reasonably satisfying companionship scattered throughout the years. Nonetheless, it shakes me to find the spot where Bodie drifted off to sleep, observing me so earnestly, vacant.
I slide out of bed, slip on a pair of flannel boxer shorts, and make my way to the kitchen. As is often the case, a fresh pot of coffee, with a mug and a spoon placed next to the sugar bowl, is waiting for me. I grit my teeth to fight the warm sensation that floods my heart at this simple gesture. Because it can only flood my heart, not my head, as I know that we have only seven or so weeks left of whatever this is we’ve built together. The splintered sort of bond we share—smooth in some places, fissured in others.
I pour a mug of coffee and step quietly to the screen door. I always know where to look for my housemate and dog in the morning. And as suspected, the pair are on the deck steps soaking up the sun. Bodie, wearing just his black compression shorts, sips his coffee, fully engrossed in conversation with Hugo. Unaware that I have approached the screen door and can hear his every word.
“You, of all people—well, you know what I mean, Hugo—get that I like it here.”
Hugo looks up at Bodie and does the smiling thing that melts my heart. Bodie smiles back, which has the same effect.
“But I got a couple of problems, I guess you could say.”
He sinks his long fingers into Hugo’s graying fur.
“Let’s start with this: the thought of never leaving—this house and Ollie and you—makes the hair on the back of my neck stand straight
up.”
I frown as Bodie devotes some extra attention to the soft fur behind Hugo’s ears.
“That may sound like a bad thing, but it’s not. It’s scary, but awesome. ’Cause I never feel shit for people or places—I don’t let it happen. But I can’t help myself. I care about this home and everybody in it.”
Guilt for spying on my housemate’s heartfelt conversation with my dog bubbles up. But I’m learning what I need to know—what I haven’t figured out how to ask for—so I stay frozen in the doorway.
“The other thing is that I suck at explaining what happened to me back in the day.” He gulps and then clears his throat. “And I suck at getting over it too. Ya see, Hugo, what went down, I won’t lie, it changed me.”
I can’t listen to this anymore; I need to be next to him. Even if Bodie won’t allow me to pull him tight to my chest, I can sit close by, our shoulders brushing together. Letting him take what strength he can from me, which may not be much, but is better than nothing.
It’s not all I can do, though. I can do my level best to open up about what I went through with my mother. How it shaped me. Even if my suffering is a pittance compared to what Bodie endured.
“Bodie.”
He tilts his head in the listening way. But he’s not startled. “Heya, Ollie.”
“I heard…I mean, I listened to what you said. I shouldn’t have.”
“Nah, it’s okay.” He places his mug on the deck. “Probably it’s good you heard. I talk to Hugo better than I talk to most others.”
“He is a good listener,” I agree.
Bodie pats the place beside him. “Sit down.”
I drop down beside him. Not so we’re touching, just so we’re close.
“It’s tough to admit that I give a damn,” he glances around him, “about all this. Know what I’m saying?”