by Laurie Loft
Time crawled. Todd drank coffee. Wayne worked. Sending a silent prayer to the payroll gods, Todd drummed his fingers and stared into space.
When Wayne’s cell went off, he pressed it to his ear without taking his eyes off the laptop’s screen. “Yeah, he’s here.” Wayne’s face puckered as though around a mouthful of lemon. “Well, that’s just great! Call him on his own phone, damn it!” He slapped his phone off, and Todd’s phone rang. Wayne glared. “He doesn’t need me! You drive him back!” And, with that, Wayne began packing his belongings.
“Wayne, I did tell you you could go,” Todd reminded as he dug his phone out. “But thank you for keeping me company. Otherwise, I’d’ve gone mad.”
Sebby’s wan voice, welcome as Christmas, sounded in Todd’s ear. “I’m done. Will you come get me?”
“On my way.” Taking Wayne’s elbow, Todd guided him through the assortment of customers, relief carrying him along like a surfboard. He saw him to his car, thanked him, and headed back to the construction site.
The site was clear of workers, all the crew being high up in the structure, and the mobile office was empty but for Sebby, who was wearily sorting papers on his desktop. It hurt Todd’s throat to look at him. “Ready?”
“Yeah. Just trying to organize some, but it can wait.” Sebby got to his feet, fished a key out of his pocket, and dropped it on his desk. “Payroll’s all done,” he murmured, in evident satisfaction, and he gave Todd a smile halved by bruises.
“Oh, Sebby.” Todd waited until Sebby reached him before tenderly taking him in his arms. Sebby settled against him with a sigh. “I hope they appreciate it,” Todd grumbled.
“I’m not that bad off,” Sebby said, his voice muffled. “I’m perfectly capable of performing my duties.” And Todd recognized his own words being used back at him.
“Well, I should’ve listened to you.” Taking Sebby’s hand in his, Todd led him across the room and opened the door to find Gus mounting the steps. Gus’s shaggy eyebrows slashed a single, threatening line low across his brow, and Todd raised his arm in a defensive gesture.
“Gus, I left a key on my desk so you or whoever can lock up,” Sebby said. “Payroll’s done. I got confirmation on the direct deposits, and the paper checks are there. The check stubs are in the other stack.” He indicated piles of envelopes on the table and hesitated, his face lifted to Todd’s. “I don’t think I’ll be in tomorrow?”
“He won’t,” Todd said. Still, Gus stood in the doorway, blocking their exit. “Excuse us.”
“It’s okay, Gus; Todd’s taking me home. He won’t let anything happen to me.”
“Horseshit. He let this happen.”
It was a low blow, and Todd almost felt it was deserved. “I’m sorry,” he said miserably.
“Todd, it wasn’t your fault. Gus, move.” Taking firm hold of Todd’s hand, Sebby started forward.
Gus backed down the steps and let them pass, but his stare made it obvious that he held Todd responsible for anything that happened to Sebby.
“The light’s so bright,” Sebby murmured, holding his hand to his eyes, and Todd slid a supportive arm around his waist.
“Close your eyes. I’ll guide you.” Others had apparently noted Todd’s arrival and decided to check up on office boy. A few hard-hatted men loitered outside the office. Rob gave them a nod. Two guys, unloading a truck, elbowed each other. Dean stood, his jaw slack, a cigarette dangling from his lip.
“Guess I’m out,” Todd said from the corner of his mouth.
“And it wasn’t so bad, was it?” Sebby leaned his head on Todd’s shoulder as they made their way across the dusty expanse that served as a parking lot.
What the hell. I may as well be all the way out. As they reached the truck and Todd glanced back, he could see that most of their audience had dispersed. He traced his fingers along Sebby’s jaw, brushed his thumb over Sebby’s lips, and closing his eyes, pressed his lips to the uninjured side of Sebby’s mouth. Sebby made a small noise and touched Todd’s hand where it rested against Sebby’s neck. Straightening, Todd opened the truck door and helped Sebby inside. “Let’s go home.”
“Not home. Ethan’s.”
“Why Ethan’s?” Todd shut the door and sprinted around to the other side, waving jauntily at the few remaining observers before hopping in and starting the vehicle. “You’ll rest better in your own bed. And I’ll be with you,” he added, thinking that Sebby feared Collin might pay another visit.
“I can’t. I don’t want to. It’s a mess. I can’t face it.” Without opening his eyes, Sebby fastened his seat belt and leaned back.
“Your house is a mess? Shit.” What had happened? It would hardly be chivalrous to press Sebby for details at the moment. Changing the subject, he said, “I do have some job nibbles, so quitting my job was perhaps not entirely irresponsible.”
“Oh . . . that.”
“What?” Todd’s suspicions boiled. “Sebastián. What?”
“Well. Who do you think processes those things?”
“Shit.” Though exasperated, Todd couldn’t get angry with Sebby, under the circumstances.
“You wanted me to hurry and finish, yes?”
Todd ground his teeth and said nothing.
“It’s still there, if you still want to quit. Otherwise, you took a sick day. Or two.”
Sebby led the way into Ethan and Wayne’s house. There was no sign of Wayne, and Ethan was still at work. The late-morning sunlight streamed in through the high windows, lighting the spacious entryway and great room. “Wayne’s annoyed with me ’cause I slept with Ethan last night. Just slept,” he added, glancing at Todd.
“Wayne will get over it,” Todd assured him.
“I wouldn’t be annoyed if you slept with Wayne, if he needed you.”
“Wayne’s is not a generous soul, as yours is. He is rather insecure.” It was not a fair comparison, since Ethan and Sebby were former lovers, and Todd and Wayne were not, but Todd chose not to remind Sebby of the fact.
“I should’ve slept alone,” Sebby fretted, crossing the great room. Todd followed him to the kitchen, where Sebby opened a prescription bottle and tapped a pill into his palm. “It’s for pain. They gave me something to calm me down too, but I’m fine without it, no?” He ran water into a glass and swallowed the pill. “I didn’t ask Ethan! He wanted me to sleep with both of them, but Wayne wouldn’t. He told Ethan to take me into the other room, and I could see that he wanted Ethan to say no, to not leave him. I tried to tell Ethan. He wouldn’t listen. So he slept with me. Just slept.”
“Sweetheart.” Todd pulled Sebby close and pillowed his cheek on Sebby’s hair. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I left you. Had I stayed, none of this would’ve happened.”
“It would’ve happened,” Sebby mumbled. “Eventually.” He pushed his forehead into Todd’s throat. “Why are you here?”
Because I love you. The words tumbled into Todd’s mouth, collided with his teeth, and rear-ended each other, a four-car pileup. Todd’s tongue swept his mouth, clearing the collision away before he spoke. “I do love Vivian.” Sebby fidgeted, and Todd held him close, stroking his hair. “But what I saw last night was that I’ve no real hope in my heart for any lasting relationship with him. He was made to break my heart, and he would do so again. And then I would come back to you, because you so generously said that I could, and because I would want to.” Pulling away, he placed his hands on either side of Sebastián’s head, hoping that Sebby would read the sincerity in his eyes, but Sebby’s eyes were closed. “I am at my destination, why insert a detour loop?”
“There’s lots of reasons for loops. Like a century day.” Sebby opened his eyes. Todd was on the point of asking what a century day was when Sebby went on. “That’s good enough . . . for now.” Sebby pressed his fingertips to Todd’s lips. “I want you for my own. I don’t care about Vivian. I’m selfish, and I don’t care if he’s sick. I don’t care if he needs you.” Sebby’s eyes remained focused on the motio
n of his own fingers, brushing over and over Todd’s lips. “Last night, after everything happened, I felt so sorry for myself. Ethan’s arms were tight around me, trying to comfort me”—Todd tightened his own arms—“but he doesn’t love me. He loves Wayne. Are you still mad at me? About Leo?”
“No, Sebby.” It all seemed so long ago. “It was . . . an odd situation. We’ll talk about it. Later. When you’re feeling better.”
“I think I want to lay down now. Will you lay down with me?”
“Willingly.”
A cold pack was obtained, and together they went down the hallway to the small, cluttered guest room. The porcelain unicorn, with its spiraled horn of delicate rainbow hues, still reigned among the objets d’art. Sebby tossed aside the cold pack and put his arms around Todd to tug Todd’s shirt free of its tuck.
Todd tried with utter futility to catch Sebby’s nimble hands. “Oh, sweetheart,” he protested in anguish as those hands lifted his shirt, and Sebby bent to kiss Todd’s chest. “Sweetheart, don’t . . .”
There was a cry from Sebby, who went rigid. “What happened to you?” Sebby looked up, his swollen face betraying little, but his voice washed in distress, and Todd returned his gaze with confusion. “Did you go after Collin? You couldn’t’ve! You said you didn’t know anything was wrong!” In one swift motion, Sebby swept Todd’s tee over his head and dropped it on the floor.
“I—” Todd tucked his chin as Sebby’s fingers fluttered over his abdomen, and saw that a magnificent bruise had come into flower under the arch of his rib cage: deep purple and feathering to red at its edges. “I forgot about that,” he said, with some embarrassment.
“Forgot!” Trembling, Sebby’s fingers outlined the damage.
“Er. Gus thought I was responsible for your injuries and took swift and terrible retribution.”
“Gus did this to you?” A string of Spanish expletives unrolled.
Worried that Sebby was getting himself worked up when he should be resting, Todd ran his fingers through Sebby’s hair. “It was one punch. Don’t be too hard on him. He thought he was protecting you, and, surely, the perpetrator deserves this and worse.”
“Gus needs to mind his own fucking business!” Placing a hand on either shoulder, Sebby shoved Todd against the bed. Todd sat. Sebby gripped Todd’s shoulders and threw a leg over Todd’s legs, collapsing with him, burying his face in Todd’s chest while avoiding his sore middle. “I’m going to get him fired,” Sebby mumbled. “See if I don’t.”
“Imp. Don’t do that, I beg you. He was defending your honor. Quite chivalrous of him, you must admit.” He slid his hands up and down Sebby’s back.
“He can’t hit another employee whenever he feels like it!”
“Evidently, he can. Hush, please? Leave us discuss the matter another time. Rest now, please?”
“I can’t. I close my eyes and see . . .” Sebby shuddered, and then he shifted, lifting his head to regard Todd. “I want you.”
“I’m here,” Todd said, pretending obtuseness. “You need to rest. As do I.”
But Sebby shut his swollen eyes and laid a kiss on Todd’s mouth, and Todd winced at the pain he imagined blossoming in Sebby’s bruised lips. “Kiss it away, Todd,” Sebby whispered.
Tenderly, Todd moved his lips to the uninjured side of Sebby’s mouth, and Sebby’s tongue darted out. Sebby moaned, and that was unfair of him, Todd thought, as guilty desire stirred.
“Where’s that cold pack?” He turned his head and reached with one arm, his hand closing on empty air, and Sebby took advantage of Todd’s loose hold to peel his own shirt away, revealing the marks of abuse that had been hidden—contusions over his ribs, grip marks around his arm. His skin was feverish against Todd’s.
“Kiss it away,” Sebby murmured. Urgent hands swept down Todd’s rib cage and insinuated between his flesh and the waistband of his jeans. “Don’t say no. I need you.”
Todd’s breath caught. Holding Sebby tightly and ignoring the pain that flared across his abdomen, he rolled them both over, ending with Sebby’s shoulder and part of his back pinned to the wall. He covered Sebby’s face with flower petal kisses, and Sebby clutched him.
“Harder, kiss me harder. Please!” His fingers plowed furrows in Todd’s back, his hip. “Kiss it away!”
Todd hesitantly laid his mouth full on Sebby’s. The injured flesh tasted of old blood, and Sebby grasped the back of Todd’s head, tangling both hands in Todd’s hair and pulling him hard to his mouth. They both cried out, Todd in fear, Sebby in what could have been either pain or release.
Sebby arched and hooked one leg around Todd’s hips. “Do it hard, oh, do it hard.” It was the quietest murmur.
Trembling, Todd hesitated for long moments while Sebby writhed ineffectually. Of a sudden, Sebby went limp. He dropped his hands and turned his face away, lifting his chin and exposing his slender neck as if for the kill, and that simple gesture seemed the single most erotic thing Todd had ever seen. He closed his fingers over Sebby’s throat and felt him swallow; he laced his other hand into Sebby’s hair, compelling Sebby’s head down and back into the corner formed by bed and wall. He pressed his lips to the place where neck joined shoulder, drawing the flesh into his mouth to create a new bruise, at the same time bearing Sebby with more force against the wall. Sebby’s moan was like a low siren heard off in the distance, and as Sebby wrapped both legs around him to bring their groins tightly together, control slipped away.
Silent sobs shook Sebby’s frame, and he was thankful that Todd was a heavy sleeper. He hadn’t cried when Collin had hit him, or when one of the policemen had given him a look of mingled lust and contempt, or when Wayne had snubbed him. Not even when Ethan had tried to comfort him, or when Todd had kissed him outside the mobile office. But now he could not stop crying.
Even though the medication made him drowsy, he couldn’t sleep, and his throat ached with the effort of swallowing his tears. It wasn’t on purpose that he dated assholes. It was just that . . . he loved the feeling that the hand stroking his hair had the strength to crush his skull. And that had led him wrong a few times. And Todd . . . Todd hadn’t yelled at Sebby or blamed him. He hadn’t thrown a tantrum—well, he had shouted a little. He hadn’t vowed to murder Collin. He was being so patient, and he hadn’t once pestered Sebby about the events of last night, even though he must be dying to. Sebby dreaded relating the story to Todd. If only everyone would just forget about it, pretend it hadn’t happened. He didn’t want this to be the pivotal event of his life.
But Todd said he’d decided to stay without knowing about any of it. Todd had chosen Sebby over Vivian. Did Todd love him? He hadn’t said so; in fact, he had said, I love Vivian. As the words resounded in his head, his chest heaved in ever greater sobs; his ribs were trying to crush his heart. A noise escaped him, and Todd stirred. Sebby held his breath until the danger passed, but it was the middle of the day, and Todd wouldn’t sleep much longer. Covering his own face with the cold pack, Sebby tried to compose himself. Ethan was right—he had to tell Todd that he loved him. He’d do it today. In sane and orderly words.
Todd yawned, and Sebby froze. Todd muttered, “Sebby . . . are you all right?”
“Sí, bien.” His voice was tight, and somehow all the nice, planned words evaporated from his head.
Todd’s hand moved over Sebby’s chest. “Have I . . . Did I . . . hurt you?”
Had Todd heard him crying? Dios, did he think Sebby was crying because of him? Sebby peeked out from under the cold pack. “No.”
“Was I too rough?”
“No. Oh, mi chico tierno, you worry so.” He moved to catch Todd’s hand, brought it to his mouth, and kissed it, letting the chilly plastic slide away from his face. Todd’s eyes were naked and anxious, the skin puckered between his light eyebrows. Sebby hesitated. “I don’t know how you’ll take it if I explain.”
Todd closed his eyes. “This is a good time to tell me something I might not like.”
“Because you can�
�t get mad at me.” Sebby gave Todd a smug smile. He sat up and folded his legs under himself. Todd followed, reaching for his eyeglasses, and Sebby waited till he had them adjusted and then took Todd’s hands in both of his. “Todd. Querido. You aren’t rough.” Todd blinked. “You aren’t rough,” Sebby repeated, pressing Todd’s fingers. “Hurt me? You never would. You’re the most gentle lover I’ve known. Even when you were trying to be rough, just now, you didn’t grab my hair and yank my head back, you wove your fingers into my hair and eased me back . . .” Sebby had to close his eyes and catch his breath. Todd made no sound, and when Sebby opened his eyes, Todd still looked unconvinced.
“Right, then. But you’re telling me that didn’t hurt, my kissing . . .” And Todd laid a finger against the fat side of Sebby’s mouth.
“A little,” Sebby admitted. “But that wasn’t your hurt. Or, it was, but . . . it was your hurt covering up his hurt. Canceling it out. You see, Toddfox, it all comes down to debiting one side and crediting the other, so that, in the end, everything is zero.”
“That analogy makes no sense at all.” But Todd smiled, and it warmed Sebby like whiskey. Tears sprang to his eyes again. He threw his arms around Todd’s neck.
“I have a secret to tell you,” Sebby mumbled, barely able to get the words past the lump in his throat.
“A secret?” The smile was audible in Todd’s voice. “A good secret?”
“I’ve been keeping it kind of long, and I shouldn’t keep it secret from the one person who should know. The person who . . . should know.” He drew a painful breath. “It’s nothing earth-shattering. Just that I love you. That’s all. I love you, Todd.”