Ends of the Earth: Gay Romance

by Keira Andrews

  He picked up the brochure. “I’m going to apply for this job. That’s something.”

  “Okay. One step at a time. I’ll drink to that.” She raised her bottle, and Ben clinked it with his own. It had to be enough for now.

  After counting the beams in the ceiling four times, turning onto one side and then the other, and resolutely closing his eyes only to be haunted by images of Jason in bed—breathy moans and delighted gasps, sweat-sweet skin under Ben’s tongue, warmth all around—Ben gave up and threw back the covers.

  In his underwear, shivering in the cool air, he opened the curtains to let in the moonlight and wandered from the kitchen to the living room and back again, a ghost in his own home.

  Nothing in the cabin was his aside from the TV. Not the furniture or decorations, nor the dusty round clock high on the wall ticking errantly, off by a few more minutes each year. The fridge was ancient and clanging.

  He’d left Brad and their house with only his clothes. No CDs or knickknacks or artwork. He’d abandoned it all, despite Brad’s repeated attempts to split their belongings. He told himself he’d redecorate the cabin and make it his own, but here he stood surrounded by his father’s choices, and the odd remnant from his mother, like the stained glass butterfly stuck to the kitchen window with a suction cup.

  The Yosemite brochure sat on the kitchen table, and he found himself flipping through it. In the silver moonlight, the pictures were pale and beautiful, like Ansel Adams’s famous black and white shots of the park.

  Ben thought about how much Maggie would love it there, hoping fervently that Harlan Brown hadn’t tainted her passion for the wild. A hard spear of a thought filled his mind.

  I’m glad he’s dead.

  Maybe it was wrong, but he wouldn’t deny it.

  Flipping the brochure shut, his gaze drifted to the pile of books. With a sigh, he moved them over one by one. The last was an ancient atlas that likely still featured the USSR and colonial names like “Bombay” instead of Mumbai. He ran his fingers over the pages and put it aside.

  Ben stared at the sketchbook. He’d forgotten he had it, and then it had been too late to return it to Jason. It was battered and ripping at the edges, some pages torn out completely. He’d flattened it under the books to try and smooth away the creases and make it whole again.

  He opened it to the middle and gently pulled out the loose drawing of him and Maggie on the Road to the Sun. The remnants of wrinkles and crumpling lined the page, but in the pale gleam through the window, he could see the image of himself and Maggie clearly.

  A fat tear plopped on to the paper, and he swore under his breath. It was absurd to miss two people he’d only just met. Absolutely ridiculous. Jason was too young for him. It would probably never work out. They barely knew each other.

  “I’ll meet someone else. I only feel this way because of the intense experience we shared. This isn’t real.” His flat voice seemed loud in the stillness. Utterly unconvinced, he closed the sketchbook and stacked the books back on top.

  If it wasn’t real, how did it hurt so damn much?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Go to sleep. You’re tired. Sleep.

  Shifting on the lumpy futon, Jason exhaled loudly in the stillness. Even with the curtains drawn, the streetlights were too bright, the odd car engine piercing. The occasional rumble of the elevator, something he never noticed during the day, was thunderous.

  Why aren’t you sleeping?!

  Opening his eyes, Jason sighed. He usually fell into bed at night and was reluctant to drag himself out in the mornings. What was his problem? It must have been because he wasn’t working his usual shifts on his feet for hours at a time at the factory, sorting fresh cookies on a conveyor belt, the air permanently sweet.

  Yes, when he went back to work in a few days, everything would finally be normal. It had to be. Sure, some things had changed, like the fact that he was gay, but he supposed that wasn’t so much a change as a revelation.

  He wondered if it was strange that he’d accepted it so completely, but he had. There was no shame or discomfort when he rolled the words around in his head: I’m gay. He’d considered whether he was bi, but he really didn’t think so.

  I’m gay.

  There was no panic, only…rightness, a deep relief to have solved a problem he hadn’t even realized he’d had. He’d taken charge of it and there was no sense in denying the truth. Maybe his parents wouldn’t like it, but that was their problem.

  A fresh wave of anxiety washed over him, his neck tensing. He still had to deal with his parents and couldn’t keep avoiding their calls.

  Coming home hadn’t magically hit a big red reset button. When he closed his eyes, he saw miles of green and Maggie disappearing right in front of him, gone, gone, gone. He still had to deal with what had happened to her.

  How was he going to leave her at the Y on Monday for day camp? There was no way he could go to work and pretend everything was perfectly fine. She’d always been safe there, but what if something happened? Some psycho could sneak in and grab her and—

  “Stop it,” he muttered to himself. What-ifs led to a spiral of panic, and then he’d really never get to sleep.

  As a white glow appeared, he turned his head, automatically reaching for his silenced cell phone on the coffee table, heart in his throat. He’d blocked a dozen media numbers, and was considering changing his number if they kept calling, although this was awfully late, so maybe…

  Focusing on the screen, he came back down to earth. It was only one of his monthly reminders, this one to pay the utility bill in the morning. He tossed the phone back down, and after a few moments, it went dark.

  Stupid. Go to sleep and stop it.

  Why would Ben be contacting him? He’d told Jason to keep him posted, but there hadn’t been anything new to say, so Jason had typed out and erased a dozen messages and sent none of them.

  Kicking at the sheet, the fan not enough in the dog days of summer, he tried to get comfortable on his stomach. He was shirtless, his pajama bottoms only light cotton, but he was hot all over.

  It was more than the humidity and lack of air conditioning.

  When he closed his eyes and tried to drift away, he was grateful not to see the forest. But instead, his traitorous mind replayed images and sensations of sex with Ben—wet friction and baritone moans, tensed muscles and the burning stretch as Jason was exposed. Desire that had lain dormant and ignored for so many years was awakened, a low hum he could ignore during the day with welcome distractions.

  But now it vibrated through every pore, the craving refusing to be denied. Jerking his hips despite himself, he humped the mattress pathetically, trying not to think about Ben. Maybe if he just thought about other men, it would be better. Less messy somehow. Less emotional.

  Yet he couldn’t imagine trusting anyone else. In Ben’s hands, he’d been safe even when he’d felt defenseless, his skin too thin like tissue paper, his whole self flayed open. What would it be like to have sex with Ben again? Now that Jason knew what to expect when he had a cock in his ass, could he handle it all better?

  Memories of the hotel room seemed imprinted on his flesh, indelible. Ben had been gentle and patient, but he’d gone hard too when he fucked him.

  I’ve actually been fucked.

  A thrill zipped through him. Pandora’s box had been thrown wide open, his body and soul awakened. It sang in his veins, his dick rock hard at the thought of doing it again with Ben. Doing everything.

  Because there had to be so much more, wasn’t there?

  He remembered the sensation of Ben’s cock inside him, splitting him open, the burning pain worth the tidal wave of pleasure in the end. Then it had all been too much for him to handle, but now he was ready for more. He was going to explode if he didn’t come.

  With a furtive glance toward Maggie’s room, he jumped up and hurried to the bathroom, locking the door and leaning against it, blinking into the glare when he flipped on the light. In the large
mirror over the sink, he stared at himself, lips parted and chest rising too fast, nipples hard.

  Before he could think, his hands lifted to circle them, teasing and squeezing, the tent in his PJs just visible at the bottom of the mirror. Sparks showered his skin, his belly rippling as he caressed his chest down to his waistband.

  Jason stared at his flushed skin and light muscles. He didn’t have anything close to washboard abs, but…he wasn’t bad. He’d never looked at himself like that before. Like something sexual. Desirable.

  His hair was a mess, and he imagined Ben’s fingers tangling in it. The sensation of Ben’s tongue and hot, wet mouth on Jason’s dick had been incredible. What would it be like to drop to his knees and suck Ben’s cock?

  Biting back a groan, he shoved down his pajamas and kicked them off before squirting lotion into his hand from the Costco bottle under the sink. Naked, he watched in the mirror as he stroked himself, his shaft heavy and curving slightly to the left, the tip glistening.

  Jason swiped his finger over the head and tasted his pre-cum, the tang tightening his balls. After sucking his finger, he reached back between his cheeks, poking experimentally into his hole. It was dry and tight, but he liked the burn.

  Spreading his legs, he braced, fucking himself and stroking his shaft with his other hand, watching in the mirror. It wasn’t as smooth jerking off with his left hand as it would be with his right, but he was so close it didn’t matter, and he loved the feeling of his finger inside him. It wasn’t Ben’s cock, but it would have to do.

  Then he imagined Ben was there watching. Jason pressed his lips together hard to prevent a cry from escaping as he pictured Ben’s broad, hairy chest, his big cock and heavy balls. Ben would jerk himself as well, and he’d come all over Jason—

  Spurting on the sink and counter, even splashing the mirror, Jason trembled through his orgasm, watching himself and imagining Ben’s cum mixing with his.

  Head back, he finally closed his eyes, slipping his finger out of his ass, panting. If Ben was there, he’d draw Jason into his arms and hold him close, whisper kisses and praise against his skin. Jason longed to feel Ben’s body against him again. He could see it so clearly…

  Jolting, he grabbed a paper towel from under the sink and mopped up his mess before washing his hands and tugging on his pajamas. The sketchbook he’d brought to Montana was lost, and he hadn’t even thought about picking up his pencils since they’d been back.

  But now need filled him, urgent and unrelenting. He grabbed a pad and pencils from a drawer in the living room and turned on the kitchen light, standing at the counter and drawing furiously, fueled by the sudden despair that he’d forget what Ben looked like.

  Page after page, he drew Ben—smiling, standing, sitting, hiking, naked in bed. Blushing and tingling, he drew Ben’s cock in its nest of dark hair, capturing every angle. Breathing hard when he was done, he flipped through the pages, not sure what to feel.

  A sound from Maggie’s room had him jumping a mile high, and he shoved the sketchbook to the back of the top shelf in the hall closet holding his clothes, well out of reach and sight.

  Maggie cried again plaintively as he reached her side and turned on the lamp on the bedside table. She twitched, sweet face screwed up, and he shook her gently.

  “Baby, wake up. It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

  Gasping, her eyes flew open, and she burst into wrenching tears that tore into Jason’s heart. He rocked her, rubbing her back and murmuring as she sobbed against his bare chest.

  There was no magic reset button.

  They couldn’t pretend everything would just go back to normal. As Jason comforted Maggie, assuring her it was only a nightmare and she was safe, he knew he had to swallow his pride and take his parents’ offer to pay for therapy. Anything that could help.

  Gulping as her sobs subsided, Maggie asked, “Can I sleep with you?”

  “Of course. Come on.” Jason scooped her into his arms, cradling her close as he carried her into the living room. He settled her on the futon, tucking the sheet around her.

  “Will you read me a book?”

  “Sure. Which one?” He’d read to her all night if it would take her nightmares away.

  She sniffled. “Hospital.”

  His heart clenched as he kissed her forehead before returning to her room to scan the bookcase for the thin, faded yellow spine. The top corner of the cover had already been torn off when he’d picked up the book at a second-hand shop for fifty cents. The pages inside were worn now too after the hundreds of times Maggie had read it.

  He turned on the lamp beside the futon and propped up a few pillows at the end before stretching out. She cuddled into the burrow of his arm as he cleared his throat and began by announcing the title, as he’d always done when reading to her.

  “Curious George Goes to the Hospital.”

  He hadn’t read it in a couple years, Maggie long since moved on to books with more words and fewer pictures. But he still knew the tale of the mischievous monkey, his owner—the man with the yellow hat—and a swallowed puzzle piece that lands George in the hospital almost by heart.

  He savored each word as he read with Maggie warm at his side, wishing his daughter could have stayed innocent forever.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Lightsabers clashed, cartoon characters battling in The Clone Wars. Maggie watched avidly, scraping her cereal bowl for every bit of sugary milk remaining. Jason usually only kept bran and granola cereals in the apartment, but had added a box of Frosted Flakes to the grocery delivery.

  He hadn’t bothered hauling up the back of the futon into couch form, and sat cross-legged beside Maggie on the mattress, his own cereal barely touched and soggy. He never normally ordered groceries online, but he didn’t want to deal with people recognizing them. He’d have to face the world on Monday when he went back to work, but he hoped the attention would fade by then. Surely there were more interesting things happening in the world. Another hot topic.

  The episode ended, and Jason watched the credits, the Netflix auto-play announcement appearing in the corner of the screen. It would be easy to just let another play, sit there and put it off for another twenty minutes.

  He picked up the remote and hit stop. Time to deal with it.

  Maggie’s spoon clattered in her empty bowl. “We can’t watch another one?”

  “We can. I just want to talk for a few minutes.”

  Her shoulders slumped, and she stared down into her bowl. “About what?”

  “About going to see someone you can talk to about what happened.”

  “But that will cost money. I’m fine, Dad. Really. It was just a stupid dream last night.” She lifted her head, eyes gleaming. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sweetie, you have nothing to be sorry for.” He put their bowls on the low coffee table and scooted closer, wrapping an arm around her slim shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with having nightmares or being afraid. Especially after what happened in Montana. It was really scary and upsetting, and I don’t want you to pretend everything is fine when it’s not.”

  Hypocrite.

  Jason ignored the little voice in his head. Yes, maybe he was a hypocrite, but he’d deal with his own shit later. Maggie came first.

  She huffed. “But I don’t want to talk about it all the time! I had a stupid dream about being cold in the river, but I’m fine now. I just want everything to be okay again. The way it was.”

  “I know. And we don’t have to talk about it constantly. Just sometimes. Grandma and Grandpa offered to pay so you can see a nice doctor who knows all about this stuff. It’s not healthy to bottle everything up inside you and not talk about it.”

  “What about you? What about the stuff you don’t talk about?”

  “I…” Busted. “Okay, you’re right. I should see someone to talk about Montana as well.”

  “I don’t mean just Montana.” She fidgeted, bouncing her foot. “Was Mom your girlfriend?”

  His hear
t skipped. “Uh, no. Your mom was my best friend and I loved her very much, but she wasn’t my girlfriend. We were curious, so we had sex to see what it was like.” When Maggie had started asking a myriad of questions earlier that year, he’d bitten the bullet and borrowed a few books from the library on sex ed that they’d read through together. He didn’t want her to have any hang-ups, so he tried to discuss it as openly as possible using straightforward language.

  “Why don’t you have a girlfriend? Or even go out on any dates? Ever?”

  His mouth went dry. “Well, I just haven’t met the right…person.”

  She echoed, “‘The right person.’ Dad, are you gay?”

  “I…” He had to be honest. He had to tell her the truth, but no words squeezed out through his closed throat.

  “I saw you and Ben kissing at the hospital. I was supposed to be asleep, but I woke up and I could see you in the mirror.”

  “Oh.” Say something! Say the right thing!

  “I still love you just as much if you like boys.” She stared at him solemnly. “You know that, right?”

  A weight lifted from Jason’s chest, and he exhaled. “I know, baby. Yes, I’m gay. I didn’t actually realize it for a long time, or I would have told you sooner.”

  “Is Ben your boyfriend?”

  “Uh…” Trust Maggie to cut right to the chase. “I’m not sure.”

  She frowned. “Why not? Ben’s awesome. What’s there not to be sure about?”

  “It’s just not that easy.”

  “You like each other, right? Why does it have to be hard?”

  “We live thousands of miles apart. There’s a lot to figure out.”

  “Are we never going to see him again? Why didn’t he say goodbye to me?” Hurt was clear in Maggie’s plaintive whine. “Why didn’t he come see me before we went to the airport? Is he mad?”

  “No, baby. It all just happened quickly when we left, and Ben had to get back to work.”