Love Can't Conquer

by Kim Fielding

  “Who the fuck cares! Come on, Qay!”

  Laughing, Qay scooted beside him and massaged those glorious glutes. “Figures you’d be a bossy bottom, Chief.” Jeremy shot him an indignant look, and Qay retaliated with a light swat to one buttcheek. That made Jeremy wriggle demandingly.

  After that, Qay ignored Jeremy’s complaints and took his goddamn time slicking Jeremy up, easing tight muscles until they were more than ready to accept him. Jeremy was reduced to a string of mumbled pleas and attempts to fuck himself more thoroughly on Qay’s fingers. Qay could possibly make him come like that: his fingers moving in and out of that tight heat, Jeremy squirming and humping against the mattress, emitting a chorus of expletives and moans. That would be fun. But Qay’s dick really wanted to join the party, and Qay didn’t think Jeremy had the stamina yet for a second round. So he withdrew his fingers, patted Jeremy’s ass again, and smoothed the small of his back.

  “Roll over, Jer.”

  He did so with surprising speed for a man who’d been shot three days earlier. He bent his knees, planted his soles on the mattress, and smiled widely. “You’re so beautiful,” he said.

  Qay felt himself blush, which was absurd. “Is that those endorphins speaking?”

  “Nope. Just calling it like I see it. And remember, I’m a trained observer.”

  With just a little difficulty, Qay managed to get a pillow under Jeremy’s ass. Then he took a moment to admire what Jeremy was offering him. It might have been past Thanksgiving, but he was feeling supremely grateful.

  He positioned himself between Jeremy’s legs but didn’t penetrate him yet. Instead, Qay rutted gently against Jeremy’s body and captured his lips in a kiss. God, Jeremy always tasted so good! But as the movement of his hips sped a bit, Qay realized the pressure of his torso on Jeremy’s burns wasn’t a good idea—not that Jeremy seemed to be noticing any pain. He was rubbing Qay’s ass and trying to raise his hips a little more.

  “Are you ready for me?” Qay asked.

  “I think I’ve been ready for you for years.”

  Qay drew back a bit, lined himself up, and slowly sank inside.

  Holy Christ, so tight, so good. The look on Jeremy’s face alone was almost enough to make Qay come. Gray eyes heavy-lidded, beautiful mouth parted, a delicate flush tingeing those broad, lightly stubbled cheeks. Qay wasn’t fucking Captain Caffeine; he was making love with Jeremy Cox, a stunning man with a fine mind and a heart as big as the Great Plains.

  When Qay was fully seated, every inch of him encased in Jeremy’s welcoming body, they froze and their gazes locked. And for that one blessed moment, every one of Qay’s nerves untangled, the demons disappeared, and the weight lifted from his chest.

  “I love you,” Jeremy whispered.

  “I love you,” Qay echoed. The first time he had ever uttered those three words.

  They had to move eventually, and what followed was sublime, a dream clearer and more joyful than any drugs could give, a precious bit of perfection in an imperfect world.

  They didn’t clean up afterward. Qay wanted to wear Jeremy’s spend on his belly and chest, even though he knew it would flake and itch. And although he must have been sticky and somewhat uncomfortable, Jeremy seemed content as well. He tugged Qay close, pulled up the covers, and breathed warmly against Qay’s nape. “The universe can be so weird, darlin’.”

  Qay heard Kansas in the way Jeremy said that last word.

  THEY SHOWERED together again Monday morning. Qay hadn’t planned to have sex right then, but he couldn’t resist Jeremy naked in front of him, so he dropped to his knees and blew him. Jeremy came and collapsed into Qay’s arms, the water sluicing over them both. A few minutes later, Jeremy returned the favor, but he sat on the bed and leaned against the headboard while Qay crouched above him and thrust into his mouth.

  It was a good way to begin the day.

  But eventually they had to talk business. “Are you going to be all right on your own?” Qay asked. Jeremy was taking the whole week off to recuperate, but Qay had class that night and work in the morning.

  “I’m fine. I’m getting really good at doing things one-handed. Thank God that asshole didn’t go after my right hand. Rhoda can be here in twenty minutes if I get stuck.”

  “I could take a couple of days off.” He couldn’t afford it, but he was worried about Jeremy.

  “Don’t. Really, I’m doing great. Have you noticed? I stopped taking the meds Saturday night.”

  Of course Qay had noticed, because Jeremy hadn’t asked him to open the pill bottle, which had mysteriously disappeared. “You got shot, Jeremy.”

  “It’s nothing but a flesh wound.” Jeremy winked. “And the day after tomorrow, I get to move back into my place. I’m really tired of hotels. Will you go shopping with me this weekend for kitchen stuff and…. Shit!”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I made a list of everything I needed. It was in my pocket when they snatched me.” He sighed. “Guess I need to make a new one.”

  The guy got tortured, shot, and almost killed, but his biggest complaint was a lost shopping list. Qay shook his head in bewilderment. “Yeah, we can shop.” Wasn’t that what gay couples did?

  But now Jeremy looked like he wanted to say something more and couldn’t spit it out. He gnawed his lower lip and angled his vision toward the ceiling. “Um, Qay? I want you to think about something without freaking out.”

  Great. Qay immediately began to breathe fast. “Wh-what?”

  “It’s not a scary thing. Just something to contemplate. But….” He swallowed loudly. “You could move in with me.”

  Qay gaped.

  Jeremy continued gamely. “You’ve seen the place—it’s plenty big enough for two people to spread out. And you can pay rent or help with the utilities, or whatever. I don’t care. I’d just really like to come home to you.”

  Qay’s heart sped and his head swam, but he managed to not collapse. “I don’t—”

  “I know. It’s sudden. You don’t have to decide now. I mean, you’ve probably already paid rent for December, right?”

  A slight nod.

  “Right,” Jeremy said. “So no use hurrying things. But you can help me pick out rugs and dishes and… stuff. Things you like. That way, if you do move in, it’ll really feel like your place too.”

  Apparently only slightly daunted by the silence that followed, Jeremy shrugged, then winced. “I’m hella tired of the damn shoulder. Want to go for a walk?”

  SHORTLY AFTER lunch they shared a passionate kiss. Jeremy was a talented kisser, although his broken fingers seemed to frustrate him. Then Qay gathered up all his clothing, schoolwork, and the various other belongings he’d scattered around Jeremy’s hotel room and stuffed everything into his duffel and backpack.

  Jeremy stopped him at the door. “Will you come by my place after work Wednesday?”

  At least he’d said my instead of our. “Sure. Maybe you can come back to my apartment for dinner. I can do amazing things with ramen.”

  “I believe that. And look. I’m going cell phone shopping this afternoon, since mine’s toast. Sometimes they have a good deal if you buy two. Will you throw a fit if I get you one?”

  Qay thought about how much faster he could have called for help on Thursday if he’d owned a cell phone. And if he’d had Rhoda’s number, he could have called her soon after Jeremy failed to show up. It would have saved Jeremy some pain. “I won’t throw a fit. But I’m paying for mine.”

  “Done,” Jeremy said with a grin.

  One more kiss, and Qay left.

  He stopped first at his apartment, which seemed especially dank and dreary after a long weekend at the Marriott. He dropped off his duffel, threw out some expired milk, and set out again, this time to school.

  It should have been an interesting class. The subject this week was Nietzsche and Foucault on ethics and morality, and Qay had found the readings engaging. But several minutes into the discussion, someone brought up the subj
ect of responsibility and self-blame, and Qay began to think about Kevin walking down the railroad tracks to retrieve his errant younger brother. Over the years he’d become better at pushing those thoughts away. But the past several days had been emotionally tumultuous, weakening his defenses, and now his thoughts spiraled from Kevin to his parents to addiction to crime to his job. The disaster tornado touched down next on Jeremy and stayed there, kicking up fears of all the ways Qay could fail him and all the things that could go wrong.

  When Professor Reynolds announced a fifteen-minute break halfway through class, Qay gathered up his things and fled.

  He got off the bus several stops early, partly because he couldn’t sit still any longer, partly because he felt like he might puke. His hands shook and his legs were unsteady as he made his way down the sidewalk, and now the disaster tornado was joined by a berating chorus. Fucking idiot couldn’t even make it through class today. What’s Reynolds going to think? What happened to your university plans? Weakling! Fuckup!

  Which was why, when he came to a tavern with neon beer signs in the window, Qay turned and went inside.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  JEREMY WASN’T used to so much sitting around. It made him jumpy. He couldn’t even play on his laptop easily without the use of his left hand. After Qay left on Monday, Jeremy tried reading, but he couldn’t get into it. Finally he put on his shoes and spent a good fifteen minutes trying to tie the laces. He hoped the weather wasn’t too cold, since he had to give up entirely on zipping his coat.

  “How are you doing today, Chief?” asked the young woman at the reception desk.

  “Pretty good, thanks.”

  “There was another article in the paper this morning. One of the suspects is being arraigned today.”

  Jeremy made a face. His kidnapping and the subsequent shoot-out had received a lot of media attention, especially after some enterprising reporter connected that mess to Donny’s death. Rhoda and Nevin had both called the hotel room to warn Jeremy about what was going on in the press, and Jeremy had happily avoided turning on the TV or reading the paper over the weekend. Better for him that way, and much better for Qay, who’d had enough stress already. And since Jeremy’s temporary living quarters remained known to only a select few, no news crews had camped out at the Marriott. Thank God.

  “I’m going for a walk,” Jeremy told the receptionist. “If my friends come looking for me, please tell them I’m not dead.”

  “You’re not dead. Got it.”

  He ventured outside, head bowed slightly, and headed for Waterfront Park.

  Fuck, he’d been such an idiot to ignore Frankl’s warnings. He’d been so caught up with the giddiness of getting to know Qay, coupled with the devastation of Donny’s death, that everything else had seemed unimportant. So he’d continued along with his head in the sand, and just as he’d sent Donny into the hands of a murderer, he’d gravely endangered Qay as well.

  He’d learned his lesson. Davis was dead, and Jeremy would always remember now to put Qay’s welfare first. Qay fucking deserved it, didn’t he?

  The gray water of the Willamette churned by, and Jeremy’s thoughts were no more placid.

  After a time he turned and headed west, away from the river. He bargained hard in the phone store, deciding he wasn’t above a little flirting with the salesman if it meant Qay would get a good deal. The kid was half his age and kind of a ditz, but Jeremy left with two fancy new phones and a plan he hoped wasn’t out of Qay’s price range. The account was in Jeremy’s name, but he figured if Qay insisted on paying—which he would—he could just write Jeremy a check every month. If all went well, Qay could just add it to the rent.

  Fuck, the rent. Jeremy ambled toward the North Park Blocks and hoped he hadn’t spooked Qay by inviting him to move in. It was sudden. But Jeremy had just come within inches of being killed, and maybe that had reminded him of the fragility of life. He took care of himself—he might have another fifty years in him. Or he could step off the curb and get hit by a bus. However much time remained to him, he didn’t want to waste it dicking around. He wanted to spend it with Qay.

  He waited for the light to change so he could cross Burnside. Three people huddled under an awning on the other side, passing a cigarette back and forth. He recognized the two men, but the young woman was new, and for a moment his heart sank. Sometimes it seemed that for every kid like Toad he pulled off the streets, two new hopeless people came to take his place.

  When Jeremy came abreast of them, the men waved. “Chief!” the skinny one called. Randall—that was his name. “What the fuck happened to you?” Apparently these people weren’t up on the latest news.

  Jeremy waved his left hand slightly. “Bad decisions. Busted fingers.”

  “Naw, man, you gotta be careful! It’s a tough ol’ world.”

  “Don’t I know it. Are you doing okay, Randall? You guys have a place to stay?”

  “Yeah. Me an’ Curtis been sleepin’ at the men’s shelter. But Lina here, she’s new. She don’t got nowhere.”

  Jeremy gave Lina a closer look. She was pale, with a fading bruise around one eye and a slightly swollen lip. He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “Hey, Lina. I’m off duty and out of uniform today, but I’m a park ranger. My name’s Jeremy Cox.”

  “Park ranger?” she said in the same tone as if he’d announced he was a visitor from outer space. “This ain’t a park.”

  He got this a lot. “Not here, no. But there are lots of parks all over the city, and that’s my territory.”

  She still looked highly skeptical, but then the other man—Curtis—nudged her slightly. “It’s true. He’s a good guy, Li. Makes sure everyone’s all right. He helped get my friend AJ into a program. Now AJ’s got a job and everything. He volunteers at the shelter sometimes.”

  Jeremy remembered AJ but hadn’t seen him in a couple of years. He grinned widely to learn that AJ was doing well. He’d been a heavy drinker with a truly sweet heart. “When you see AJ again, tell him hello for me.”

  Curtis nodded, and Lina thawed a tiny bit. She was really young, and although it was hard to tell with her bulky clothing, Jeremy suspected she was pregnant. “Do you have a place to stay, Lina?”

  She looked down at her feet. “I was stayin’ with a friend,” she murmured. “That didn’t work out.”

  “Yeah, that happens. Look, I know this place. Harbor House. It really is a house, one of those big Victorian things. It’s only for women and children. I can call and see if they have a room free.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What do I gotta do?”

  “Follow the rules. They’re pretty reasonable—no drugs, no fighting, no men in the house. Stuff like that. They can give you food and a safe place to sleep. Counseling if you want it. Medical care.”

  “I wanna keep my baby,” she said firmly.

  “They can help with that too.”

  He could see her wavering. Normally he’d have offered to give her a ride over there right now, before she could set her mind against it, but the doctor said he wasn’t supposed to drive for two more days. At least the cute dimwit at the phone store had managed to transfer Jeremy’s contacts to his new phone. “Hang on,” he said. He stepped a few yards away, fished out the phone, and called the director of Harbor House. It was an awkward procedure one-handed, but the director answered and said yes, they had a free bed.

  Smiling, Jeremy walked back to the little group. “They’re holding a room for you, Lina. I’m going to write down the address for you. They’re in Northeast but real easy to get to. The number twelve bus will get you less than two blocks away.”

  Lina wasn’t exactly wildly enthusiastic, but she didn’t say no. And when Jeremy found a piece of paper and pen in his pocket and scrawled the address, she took it from him, glanced at it, and tucked it away. It was the best he could do for her. Well, almost. “Do you need bus fare?” he asked her. She nodded slightly, so he pulled out his wallet and gave her a ten. Curtis and Randal
l watched carefully, so Jeremy handed Randall a twenty. “You guys’ll have to split this. Promise me you’ll spend it on food and not booze.”

  “We can get ourselves a couple good meals out of this,” Randall said happily. Jeremy hoped that was what they’d actually do.

  He wished them all luck, especially Lina. “You take care of yourself, Chief,” Randall said. “Don’t go breaking no more bones.”

  “I’ll do my best to avoid it.”

  Jeremy continued his walk but couldn’t help glancing back. The three of them still stood there, conversing closely. He wished he could just shove Lina into his SUV and take her to Harbor House. And drag Curtis and Randall somewhere they could dry out, making sure they stayed there until their alcoholism was under control, and then help them find decent jobs and stable homes and a life that wouldn’t kill them young. He wished he could take Qay home and—

  Shit. Qay. He was the most extraordinary person Jeremy had ever met, brilliant and complex. And sometimes when they were just sitting together—across the table over a meal, next to each other on the bed with books in hand—Qay would stop jittering. His muscles would loosen, an easy smile would play across his face, and he’d look happy and relaxed. It never lasted long, but those moments were beautiful. Qay would look at Jeremy as if he’d been given an unexpected and wonderful gift. Jeremy wanted those times to come more often and stay longer. He wanted Qay to find his much-deserved place in the world.

  TUESDAY WAS endless. Jeremy walked several times. He had lunch at Perry’s with two of his rangers, both of whom were a little starstruck due to Jeremy’s newfound, albeit unwelcome, notoriety. He met Frankl for coffee after that. Frankl apologized for not moving in on Davis faster, but Jeremy understood. They couldn’t pounce on the guy every time he left his house, and since his family owned the factory where they’d taken Jeremy, Davis’s presence there wasn’t particularly suspicious. “I’ll need a formal statement from you,” Frankl said as he played with the handle of his mug. “But it can wait a couple of days. Those scumbags aren’t going anywhere.”