by Aidan Wayne
“If you say so,” John said, unsure.
“I do!”
They made quick work of dinner, and soon enough it was put away, both of them retreating to the living room. John took a seat, but Bao didn’t, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.
“I have been sitting on that couch too long already,” he said, glaring at it.
“But this time you’ll be sittin’ with me,” John pointed out.
Bao blinked at him and brightened. “That is very true!” He flung himself down on the couch—and partly on top of John. John laughed and caught him, arranging them so that Bao was tucked up underneath John’s arm. Bao curled into the cuddle, his one hand stroking little patterns on John’s stomach. John felt his breath stutter, but Bao just smiled up at him.
“You are right,” Bao said. “This is much nicer than it was being by myself.”
“Glad to hear it,” John managed, very much aware of Bao’s hand.
Several long minutes passed of them lying there together, John unwilling to do anything to stop the moment.
“I have said I don’t mind,” Bao eventually murmured, looking up at John. “But I wanted to remind you that I don’t. Your scars. They are part of you, and I like you. So I hope . . . I hope you don’t feel the wish to hide from me. I would like to see you. Maybe not now, if you don’t want. But I would sometime.”
John didn’t cringe or move away, but he still had to avert his eyes. “It’s not easy for me to show ’em,” he said. “They’re not all that pretty. And after working as a sideshow, I stopped wanting people to look.” He’d been younger then, defiant and angry, baring his scars and daring people to gasp or pity, reveling in the fact that suckers were willing to give up money so they could stare.
He’d liked it less later on, when he’d calmed down some and stopped being angry. When he wanted a connection with someone else and there was no one willing to try. Maybe that’d been the point all along: his grandmother hadn’t been trying to burn out sin, she’d been making sure he was as ugly as it, so people’d stay away.
“Where did you go?” Bao asked, bringing a hand up to John’s cheek. Concern was written all over his face. “Nowhere good. Stay here with me. I did not mean to bring up bad memories.”
John shook his head. “It’s fine. I just . . . I guess I’m still having a hard time believing it, is all. That you actually don’t mind seeing ’em.”
“I want to see them because I want to love you,” Bao said, matter-of-fact. He didn’t seem to notice John sucking in a breath at his words. “I want to touch you and kiss you and make you feel good. But I also understand if you don’t want to show yourself to me. I don’t want you uncomfortable.”
John looked down at Bao, smiling up at him serious and sweet, and clenched his jaw, making a decision. It wasn’t even all that hard. “Move back just a sec,” he said, leaning slightly away from Bao. Then he pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth movement, ripping it away fast, like a Band-Aid. He swallowed hard as he dropped it to the floor, feeling naked, and willed himself to keep his eyes open, to keep focusing on Bao.
“There,” he managed. “So yeah, you can, you can, um—”
Bao was on him in an instant, throwing his arms around John’s neck and pressing quick kisses to his mouth. John gathered Bao close and held on tight, maybe shaking a little, and Bao hugged back just as hard, hands running over the mostly unmottled skin on John’s back.
“I know that was very hard,” Bao murmured when he pulled back. “Thank you so much for giving me this gift.” He turned to kiss John’s neck, the underside of his jaw, and John shivered, the fact that he was exposed making the touches almost electric.
Bao moved so that he could meet John’s eyes and then held out his hands for permission. “May I touch?” he asked, sounding so careful and gentle that John could have cried.
“Y-yeah. If you want to.”
Bao wasted no time, running his fingertips over the scars on John’s chest. “How much can you feel?”
“I can feel some,” John managed, mesmerized by watching Bao’s callused hands on his skin. “Just muffled. Like there’s a layer of denim in the way.”
“Oh good.” Bao smiled. “I can feel things through denim.” And then he was leaning forward to press kisses on the splotched scar tissue on John’s chest. John couldn’t help arching up into it, his body desperately missing touch. Bao trailed his hands down John’s chest, down the planes of his stomach, mouth following the path until he was nosing at the jut of John’s hips, hand pressing lower.
John bit back a strangled yelp as he fought to keep still, unable to stop himself from bucking up into Bao’s hand. “Bao wait—I’m pretty sure you weren’t cleared for this until tomorrow. Your concussion—”
“One day will not kill me.” Bao scowled. “I am fine! You do not worry about me. I want this. And you do. Please,” he added, at John’s continued hesitation. “Please let me. Let me show you how much I want you.”
“I don’t—”
“Don’t what?” Bao asked seriously, looking up into John’s eyes. He darted in to press a wet kiss to John’s collarbone. “Tell me what you do not like. But I will say now that I would very much like to make you feel as much pleasure as I can.”
John had to bow to Bao’s sincerity, let that cast aside the last of his doubts. “I guess . . . whatever you want to give me,” he gasped.
Bao’s eyes lit up. “So much, John.” One hand was back to trailing up and down the scars on John’s chest and stomach while the other came to rest on John’s shoulder. He leaned in, breath warm puffs of air against John’s lips. “I want to give you so much.” Then Bao was closing the gap, the kiss wet and messy and sending another jolt of arousal through John. John gathered Bao up and pulled him in close, deepening the kiss and giving Bao the perfect opportunity to grind down in John’s lap with intent.
John let one hand curl around Bao’s hip, thumb dipping underneath the waistband, and it was Bao’s turn to gasp, open-mouthed and beautiful. John really, really wanted to hear him make that noise again. He ducked in to nip and lick at the thin skin underneath Bao’s jaw and was rewarded with tiny cries, Bao’s hands spasming where they lay. John smiled against Bao’s skin and sucked hard.
“John, yes, yes,” Bao babbled, clutching at John’s shoulder. “Leave marks, prove you have been here with me, yes.”
And John wasn’t about to make Bao ask twice, even if, god, Bao sounded pretty while doing the asking. He moved to Bao’s collarbone, pulling at the neck of Bao’s shirt to bare it better, and then bit down gently, thrilling a little at the noise Bao made in response.
“Wait, wait—”
John froze, not sure if he’d crossed a line, if Bao was having second thoughts, but Bao was only peeling off his shirt and dropping it to the floor before pressing back in close. With more access now, John leaned in again to skim his teeth across Bao’s collarbone and was rewarded with an honest-to-god whimper as Bao arched up.
Then Bao was grinding down again in John’s lap, hands scrabbling at John’s belt before managing to undo it, popping the button on John’s jeans, and pulling down the zip. He wasted no time before fitting his hand around the bulge in John’s boxers. John had to pull back from the mark he was making on Bao’s shoulder to just breathe heavily and take in the feeling of someone else touching him that close.
“Okay?” Bao asked, stroking him through the fabric.
John swallowed and nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed into Bao’s neck. “Very okay.”
Bao pressed a gentle kiss to John’s cheek, and then he was licking his own hand before slipping it inside John’s boxers and starting to stroke. John let out a strangled cry, bucking up into Bao’s fist. The grin Bao gave him was filthy.
“Good,” Bao said. “So good, John, so good. Just feel good for me, okay?”
John nodded, unable to speak because he was half worried he might start sobbing if he opened his mouth. He did let out a moan as Bao kept s
troking, and grabbed Bao to pull him in for another long, messy kiss.
“Bao, Bao I’m—” He tried to form words, his hands moving over Bao’s back. Bao smiled against John’s mouth.
“It’s okay,” Bao murmured. “It’s good, John. Feel good for me.”
And that was it. John’s whole body arched up on the couch, lifting Bao with him. It was something else when there was someone with you.
It took him a few seconds to get his breath back and when he opened his eyes—when had he closed them?—it was to Bao smiling down at him.
“That was wonderful,” Bao said, totally and utterly sincere. If John wasn’t already gone on him, that face would’ve done it.
Bao seemed perfectly content to just sit and wait for John to regain his senses, but John wasn’t having that, especially knowing he could make Bao feel good too. That Bao actually wanted this, from John. He sat up more, pushing Bao down to the couch cushions until he could kneel over him.
“This okay?” John asked, staring down at him.
Bao gave a happy wiggle, and reached up to stroke John’s scarred cheek. “Very, very okay.”
“Good,” John said, barely a breath, before he pulled Bao’s sweatpants down. He didn’t have a condom on him, so though he was kind of dying to blow Bao, he had to make do with just his hand and stroking. Bao didn’t seem to mind, closing his eyes and whimpering as he thrust up into John’s hand.
“Like that?” John asked, drinking in Bao’s sounds, his expressions. Bao writhed underneath him and kept talking, ever vocal.
“John! Yes, John, John—I love to feel you, I’m so happy to feel you I— Ah—” He derailed into talking about what he planned for them to do next and Christ, Bao had a dirty mouth.
Eventually Bao’s words started to fail him, and he just moaned, legs spasming underneath John on the couch. He inhaled sharply, fingers reaching up to clench tightly on John’s shoulders, and then he was coming into John’s hand, eyes squeezed shut.
John reached over to grab his shirt and wiped off his hand and the shoulder Bao had clutched, then took Bao’s hand and carefully cleaned off his fingers too. Bao blinked up at him, smile beatific.
“See?” he said, voice still a little breathy. “Much better not waiting for tomorrow.”
John had to laugh and leaned forward to kiss him again.
When they were curled up around each other for the night, John asked a question that had been niggling at him, comfortable enough to finally voice it.
“Hey, Bao?”
“Mmm?” Bao turned toward him sleepily.
“I know you told me,” John said, “about why you started talkin’ to me, hanging out more. Because I was recognizable, and I know you didn’t mean anything bad by that. And sorry if this is me just being needy, but I was wonderin’ . . . why you stuck around.”
Bao stilled next to him, before reaching down to lace their fingers together, stroking his thumb over John’s own. He was quiet for a long moment. “I was not entirely truthful when I told you that,” Bao said eventually, hurrying to add, “It was your voice, more than your looks. I liked your voice. How you sound. You talked slow enough for me to understand you, but not like you thought I was stupid, that my English was bad. I wanted to hear you talk more. To me. And then I just really liked listening to what you said. But I thought that would be weird to tell you, as a stranger. I’m sorry I did not say earlier.”
“It’s okay,” John said, chest tight with wonder. From the get-go Bao had seen John and made no judgments, had cared about his voice over his face. He had to press a kiss to Bao’s forehead. “I . . . I kinda like knowin’ that. That, uh, it was something else that got you interested.”
Bao was silent as he digested this, and then he gripped John’s hand tight. “I didn’t realize how that sounded,” he said in a rush. “That I was curious about your looks. I wasn’t! Or I was, but I never would have asked. I never meant—meant that I thought you were something to look at. I really did mean it that it just helped me learn your face, I never—”
“Bao,” John interrupted, “it’s okay. Really. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I’m still sorry,” Bao said, voice small. “That is not something I meant to make you feel.”
“You’ve made me feel a lot of other things too,” John replied after a second, unsure of what else he could say. “Mostly good things.”
“Mostly?”
“Well,” John drawled, hoping it would lighten the mood again, “sometimes I was just plain ol’ confused.”
Bao huffed. “I tried to make myself as clear as possible! I tried to talk to you every day.”
John couldn’t help his smile. “Bao, you talk to everyone. How was I supposed to—”
“I made sure to eat with you when you could! And I brought you lunch. I—I like bringing you lunch.”
“Okay,” John allowed. “I, yeah. That. That was maybe—”
“I kissed you!”
“You were drunk. And I dared you to do that.”
Bao rolled over, splaying himself on top of John, arms bracketing either side of his head. “John,” he said very patiently, darting in to kiss John’s nose, “I am a performer. I can hold my liquor. And when you asked me to kiss you I was so happy I did not know what to do with myself.”
“Oh.”
Bao chuckled, pressed a quick kiss to John’s mouth. “Yes. ‘Oh.’ And then I invited you back to my home and asked you to sleep in my bed.” He dropped down, nuzzling into John’s chest, and John instinctively brought his arms around him. Bao practically purred with contentment. “I was so happy to wake up next to you that morning,” he whispered, “and that you stayed with me. And then disappointed again, that you seemed not to know how I felt. If I knew the problem, I would have just used my words better. And then we could have been like this weeks ago.”
“Actually, I-I’m glad it took us this long,” John said, after a moment. “I’m not . . . brave, when it comes to people. That I got to know you, know who you are and how you are . . . I might not have been able to be with you, before.”
“Then I’m glad we waited too,” came the instant reply. “Because I would rather have waited and have you than not have you at all.”
“Yeah. ’S’nice.” He reached up to run a hand through Bao’s hair, gently petting.
“That’s nice too,” Bao murmured sleepily. “Am I crushing you?” He was lying fully on top of John now, a warm, comforting weight. “I can move.”
John tightened his other hand over Bao’s back when Bao started to shift. He could feel the entire length of Bao’s body, his heartbeat calm and steady. “Nah, I like it. I like you here.”
“I like you here too.”
“Get some sleep,” John said, voice gentle. “I shouldn’t be keepin’ you up. You’re still recovering.”
Bao made an indignant noise but otherwise didn’t move, exhaling deeply and settling even more. John kept stroking his hair until Bao’s breathing evened out.
Lying here in the dark, arms full of someone he cared about, who cared about him right back, John smiled and closed his eyes.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Aidan Wayne’s Counterbalance!
We know your time is precious and you have many, many entertainment options, so it means a lot that you’ve chosen to spend your time reading. We really hope you enjoyed it.
We’d be honored if you’d consider posting a review—good or bad—on sites like Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Goodreads, Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook, and your blog or website. We’d also be honored if you told your friends and family about this book. Word of mouth is a book’s lifeblood!
For more information on upcoming releases, author interviews, blog tours, contests, giveaways, and more, please sign up for our weekly, spam-free newsletter and visit us around the web:
Newsletter: tinyurl.com/RiptideSignup
Twitter: twitter.com/RiptideBooks
Facebook: facebook.com/RiptidePu
blishing
Goodreads: tinyurl.com/RiptideOnGoodreads
Tumblr: riptidepublishing.tumblr.com
Thank you so much for Reading the Rainbow!
RiptidePublishing.com
Loud and Clear
Texture Like Sun (as Ils Greyhart)
Aidan Wayne is a big believer in character-driven stories with happy endings. This is not to say that stories can’t contain a little (or a lot) of grief, just that at the end of it all, expect there to be bandages and hugs. They particularly like to write about minority characters because, damn it, they deserve happy endings too. When not writing, Aidan enjoys practicing aerial, martial arts, and ASL, and watching reality cooking shows. They are probably in the middle of twelve projects as you read this.
Tumblr: justsayins.tumblr.com
Twitter: @justsayins
Enjoy more stories like Counterbalance at RiptidePublishing.com!
Double Up
www.riptidepublishing.com/titles/double-up
Where There’s Fire
www.riptidepublishing.com/titles/where-theres-fire
Earn Bonus Bucks!
Earn 1 Bonus Buck for each dollar you spend. Find out how at RiptidePublishing.com/news/bonus-bucks.
Win Free Ebooks for a Year!
Pre-order coming soon titles directly through our site and you’ll receive one entry into a drawing for a chance to win free books for a year! Get the details at RiptidePublishing.com/contests.