Like No One Is Watching

by Jaime Samms

  Dusty shivered. “But I was busy trying to remember my own name and how to walk. Yeah. Sort of missed that boat.”

  “Well, then lucky for you it’s sailed back around. Because he wants to start with a beginner adult ballet class. He figures he’d do better with grown-ups, and I’ve never run adult classes, because frankly, I prefer to mold impressionable little minds and create dancers from scratch. Adults are too”—he glanced sideways at Dusty again—“fully formed and combative for my taste.”

  Dusty snorted and shoved at his glasses but didn’t say anything for a long while.

  “I know it’s a lot to ask—”

  “It’s the world, Con.” Dusty laid his head against the window and watched the yellow line on the side of the road stream past the car. “It’s a world I had to leave behind because no one in it knew how to deal with broken me. I don’t even know how to deal with broken me.”

  Conrad took Dusty’s hand, and Dusty peered over at him. Conrad didn’t look away from the road as he brought that hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “So I’m asking you for the world. Do you honestly think I would be brave enough to keep asking if I wasn’t sure you could deliver?”

  “But why are you so sure? That’s what I don’t get.”

  They had crossed the bridge and driven up in front of Dusty’s house, and Conrad put the car in park. He removed the keys from the ignition, turning to look at Dusty. “Trust me one more time?”

  “By dancing for you?”

  “The dance is for Eliza, and at this point, after how you left it, you’ll have to make that right with her, if you want it back. I’m not talking about the dance or the studio or anything else. I’m just talking about us. Trust me one more time.”

  What did he have to lose? He’d already thrown everything Conrad offered back in the man’s face, and still, he was here, offering again.

  “Okay.”

  Conrad’s smile sent a wash of gooseflesh over his entire body.

  Chapter 23

  ONCE THEY had properly parked and got out of the car, Dusty endured Conrad’s polite questions as to where his mailbox was and if he’d collected his mail yet. He hadn’t, so Conrad jogged up the front steps to do so. He came back and took Dusty’s hand. Before he knew it, Dusty found himself standing in the center of his own space, feeling slightly lost and off balance.

  “Nothing bad is going to happen,” Conrad assured him. He set his car keys and the mail on the kitchen counter and took Dusty’s bag from him. “Is there a place you normally put this?”

  Dusty nodded. “I unpack it. Here.” He reached for it, but Conrad didn’t return it.

  “Show me,” he said instead.

  “You don’t need to—”

  “Show me.”

  So he did, leading Conrad through the steps of unpacking the bag and putting all the items away in various drawers, then hanging the bag on a hook by the door. It felt like a confused sort of dream, showing Conrad his routine, like it would matter at some future point that Conrad know how his routine worked.

  “So in the morning, you’re going to repack it all?” Conrad asked, looking a bit confused. “Why?”

  Dusty sighed. “You see?” There was reality breaking back into the dream, a shaft of blinding, stabbing light on Dusty’s deficiencies. “Because I’m broken.”

  “Dusty.” Conrad took his hands and looked down at him. “Please just explain why.”

  “Because I forget things. I forget the very basic things, like my phone and my keys. I had to get the landlord to install a lock that needed a key to lock so I would remember to take them with me, and even then….” He recalled the embarrassing phone call from Conrad’s car the day Conrad had picked him up. “I have to unpack the bag and repack it every day to make sure I have what I need.”

  “But if you just leave it packed?”

  “Then I obsess over if everything I need is there, because I didn’t personally see it in the bag before I left the house. To the point I stop paying attention to what I’m doing. I get lost on the bus or I forget what job I’m supposed to be doing. Look.” He freed his hands, shaking them, as though he could dislodge the bone-deep tingle Conrad’s touch left, as if it were a bit of dank dishwater. He stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed. “It took me ten years of trial and a lot of frightening errors to find a system that works. You have to just accept that this is how I stay sane and let it be. If you can’t do that, then there is no point to you being here.”

  “And you gave up on getting better?”

  “Oh, Con.” Dusty laughed softly. “I am better. I’m a thousand times better than when I got out of the hospital. But I’m probably as best as I’m ever going to get. At least on that front. My brain is, honestly and truly, broken. But I’ve learned to live with it.”

  Conrad nodded. “Okay. Then I will too.”

  Dusty blinked. “Just like that?”

  “Was there supposed to be something complicated about it?”

  “Well, I—” It pained him to admit he didn’t know the answer to that question. Some days, like today, he felt like his brain had been jammed on age fifteen, skipping like a goddamn CD, and he didn’t know what was supposed to come next. But then Conrad looked at him like he was looking at him now, and if there were things he didn’t know, they really didn’t seem so important.

  Because one thing was infinitely simple. Conrad wanted him. Now he knew the worst things Dusty had in him, and he was still here, looking at Dusty like the answers to his own worst fears were in the simplest touch of Dusty’s hand.

  “What if…?”

  Conrad put a finger on Dusty’s lips. “The world is so full of what ifs. What if Clarice hadn’t gotten sick? What if I had better parents? What if you did? What if some assholes hadn’t hurt you when you were just getting started? Who the hell knows, but really?” He smiled, soft, eyes damp but still so calm. “Who cares? This is our reality, and I like it just fine. Because I have you.”

  I have you.

  Dusty nodded. He didn’t, for once, think about it. He just nodded. “You have me.” And he didn’t wait for Conrad to kiss him. He had a sense that Conrad was better being kissed than doing the kissing. He was good at looking out for Dusty, but he also needed looking after, and if there was one thing Dusty knew about, it was this.

  He pulled Conrad’s head down and locked their lips, savoring the small moan that bled from Conrad’s lips to his. It vibrated into his soul, and he snuck his fingers up into Conrad’s hair, gripping and holding until Conrad opened his mouth and breathed the surrender into Dusty.

  It was sweet. He loved this part. He lived for the soft exhalation that said I’m yours. It was, like the dance, a thing he’d learned about himself early on. A thing that had been taken from him too soon and for a long time. He’d been terrified of sex for so long. Not because anything bad had happened, but because there was so little control, and control let him feel strong again after everything.

  It had taken years to get his life back, and more years to feel safe enough in his own skin to venture out and look for like-minded guys. So many of them had been about the instant gratification. Finding guys who understood his need for some amount of control had been difficult enough he’d mostly given up.

  And then Conrad.

  When he felt Conrad’s hands on his waist, gripping, digging into his flesh, he relented and moved back to look up at him. “You want to talk about this?”

  “Is there something else to talk about?”

  “You want me to trust you, but do you trust me?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  Dusty smiled. “Yeah. But this is big.”

  “We’ve already done it.” Conrad’s grin was devilish. “And it was great, believe me. I’m not sure I want to talk before we do it again.”

  “Well, I think you should listen, then.” Dusty gripped Conrad’s wrists and pushed his hands off his body.

  “Okay.” Conrad flexed his hands but didn’t attempt to
free himself. He turned soft in Dusty’s grip, and his gaze focused. “I’m listening.”

  “I need this to be real.”

  That thin line appeared between Conrad’s bushy eyebrows. “Real?”

  “If I’m going to wake up in the morning and find you gone, then you should leave now, for one thing.”

  The line disappeared, and the smile, the one that did fantastic things to Dusty’s innards, blossomed instead. “If you’re saying I have to stay the night with you, then yes. Just let me call Perry and tell him to lock up.”

  “Five minutes,” Dusty said, mock sternly. “Then meet me in the shower.”

  Conrad grinned wide. “Oh yeah.” He fished for and fumbled his phone before getting it under control and finding Peridot’s number.

  Dusty didn’t wait to listen to that conversation. He needed a moment to collect himself. This was different from before. This was premeditated “I’m going to fuck you” sex, and Conrad was agreeing. Dusty closed himself in the bathroom and leaned on the door.

  “Calm down. It’s fine. You’ve got this.” He bent to release the Velcro straps of his knee brace so he could shuck the thing. He hung it on its hook next to the towels. When he put his left foot back on the floor, tested his weight, he didn’t feel any of the telltale pops or clicks. For once, his body obeyed him, and he trusted the knee to take his weight.

  The dancing was probably doing some good. He felt stronger. More centered. More himself. A smile crossed his face. He felt as though he fit in his skin again, though he wouldn’t attempt another jump like the one that had set him back. Some things, he could do. Small steps would be okay.

  He crossed to the shower and turned the water on so it could run hot, then stripped out of his clothes. Under the warm spray when the door opened, he glanced over to where Conrad had stopped just inside the room.

  “It’s all arranged.” He held up his phone. “Perry’s got it under control.”

  “Good. You’ll have to be able to count on him, after all, if you’re going to hire him.” Thoughts of standing in front of the mirrors again, music soaking into his being, sound and beat vibrating down to his soul, warmed him deep inside. Small steps.

  “Yeah.” Conrad tossed his phone onto the pile Dusty had made of his clothes and stripped out of his shirt. He dropped it onto the floor and reached for the waist of his pants.

  Dusty opened the shower door to see him better, and Conrad stopped, fingers tight around his waistband, poised to strip them off.

  “Why stop?” Dusty asked.

  “I—” Conrad blushed. “Just the thought.” He gulped. “I’m a little….”

  “Hard?” Dusty grinned. “We’re in it now.” He opened the door farther and swiveled his hips to show off his own rapidly filling cock. “You’ve got work to do, so get on with it. Or off, I guess.”

  “Oh God, yes, please.” Swiftly, Conrad shucked his clothes and hurried over. His own cock was already stiff, and Dusty enjoyed the eyeful as Conrad entered the small enclosure.

  “Not a lot of room in here,” Conrad observed as he crammed his broad shoulders into the tight space.

  “Do you need a lot?” Dusty asked, stroking his cock with one hand and gripping Conrad’s shoulder with the other.

  Conrad shook his head and dropped, wasting no time wrapping his lips around Dusty. The suction was hard, hot, and instant, and Dusty let his head fall back against the wall. “Oh yeah.” He kept his hand on the base of his cock, not wanting Conrad to take him too deep. He didn’t want it to end here. He wanted the sweat and grime from the day off, not his rocks. Not yet.

  But he’d let Conrad suck his dick a little while longer. It was nice. Perfect, really, especially when Conrad pulled back until he held just the tip and looked up into Dusty’s eyes.

  “Not too much,” Dusty told him. “Enjoy a taste, but this isn’t where it ends.”

  Blinking into the falling water, Conrad nodded.

  “Good.” Dusty thrust lightly, and Conrad’s eyes glided closed. His hand drifted near his cock, stroking lightly, but he didn’t seem to be very focused on his own pleasure.

  The idea of pushing Conrad so his back and head were pinned against the shower wall, of thrusting into his willing mouth, made Dusty’s pulse pound. The realization that Conrad would allow such treatment dug tendrils of deeper need into Dusty’s gut.

  “I don’t want to spend a lot of time in here, Con,” Dusty said. “You’d better get clean. I’m going to need you on my bed soon. I don’t want to waste my knee having sex. I might need it later, so we have to do most of this horizontal.”

  Conrad pulled off. “You’ll need it to dance.” He wasn’t asking a question.

  Dusty nodded. “To dance. Now get up so I can soap you off.”

  Conrad got to his feet and allowed Dusty to suds up his body, spreading the shower gel’s thick bubbles over his torso and arms. Dusty took his time slicking his fingers wetly over Conrad’s nipples, listening to his delicious sounds as he squirmed under the touch.

  He stroked at his cock again, but Dusty eased his hand away. “Save that, yeah?”

  Conrad groaned. “If you say so.”

  Dusty craned up for a kiss before he replied, finding a tight grip on one taut nipple as he did.

  Conrad’s gasp, stealing breath from their shared kiss, made Dusty smile deep into his soul. “I say so,” he whispered against Conrad’s mouth, imbuing the words with the magical seal of both their breaths.

  “Okay.” Conrad’s consent was bare need, but he pressed both his hands behind him against the wall.

  “Good.” Dusty took his time scrubbing the rest of Conrad’s abs and hips, crouching with most of his weight on his right leg so he could lower himself to do justice to the thick, strained muscles of Conrad’s thighs.

  “You’re so tense,” he noted, kneading at Conrad’s legs.

  “I’m….” Conrad bled out a soft sigh as Dusty stroked soapy hands over his cock. “Oh God.”

  Dusty chuckled. “Well, I agree you’re definitely built like a god.”

  That got him a choked half-chuckle, half-groan as he squeezed at Conrad’s substantial balls.

  “Like that?” he asked, looking up.

  Conrad wasn’t watching him. He had his head back against the wall and his eyes squeezed shut. His hands were fists, clenched tight and pressed to the wall.

  “Hey.” Dusty tugged lightly at Conrad’s sac. “Focus.”

  “Oh.” Conrad huffed out a breath and hissed in another, short and sharp. “I’m… paying attention. Believe me. Oh. God. Do that again.” He spread his legs a fraction and canted his hips up to give more access.

  Dusty grinned, a shiver of power making his cock jump between his legs as he tugged again at Conrad’s balls.

  “Oh… fuck. Dust-y.”

  It was too delicious. Dusty rolled Conrad’s balls between his fingers, stroked his cock, and watched as Conrad’s fingers dug white crescents into his palms, pounded lightly on the wall behind him in agitated bursts. “Look at me, Con,” he instructed. “I want to see your face.”

  Conrad’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He wagged his head from side to side. “Fuck.”

  Dusty stopped all movement, one hand wrapped around Conrad’s shaft, the other pulling and holding his balls away from Conrad’s body. “Con. Look at me. I need to see your eyes.”

  “I—” Conrad groaned, and with what looked like herculean effort, lifted his head so he could drop his chin and gaze down at Dusty. Water splashed against Dusty’s face, and he wished he had his glasses. As it was, Conrad appeared flushed but indistinct. He could see only the dark wells of Conrad’s eyes.

  “Spread.” He tapped the inside of Conrad’s leg and was rewarded with instant obedience. Moving his hand from Conrad’s cock to wiggle his fingers between his ass cheeks, he sought out and found the warm, closed pucker of his entrance. “I need room back here, Con,” he informed him. “Help a guy out.”

  Conrad groaned again, deeper and darker, bu
t he leaned forward and spread his ass cheeks with his own hands.

  “Perfect.” Dusty rubbed small circles over Conrad’s opening to the same slow, methodical rhythm that he played with his balls, rolling and pinching, tugging and cupping gently, until Conrad was all but whimpering and pressing into his finger.

  “That’s it,” Dusty encouraged. “You want something in you?”

  Conrad dropped his head with a huffy moan. “Dusty. Please.”

  “Oh, it’ll happen, Con. Promise. More than once, most likely. Go ahead.” He wiggled his finger, exerting not quite enough pressure to penetrate. “Take what you want.”

  Conrad shuddered, let out a soft, breathy keen, and basically sat until Dusty’s finger was deep in his ass. “Oh fuck.” He dropped his head. His legs shook from holding the awkward, half-squat position, but he wasn’t complaining. Far from it. His forehead contacted Dusty’s, and his breath, hot and fast, washed over Dusty’s face.

  Dusty wiggled his finger, seeking—finding—and pressing.

  Conrad’s voice echoed in the small space, and he jerked his hips. “I wanna—”

  With a tug at his balls, and then a firm, closed fist around them, Dusty gave him a nod. “Please do. Come for me.”

  He let go, and Conrad’s orgasm came in near silence, his moans low, choked, his body trembling. His cock twitched, and come spurted to land on Dusty’s bent knee to almost instantly be washed away by the spray.

  “Dust—” He buckled, his head flopping to one side onto Dusty’s shoulder.

  Dusty rose, listing to one side, but thankfully, the wall of the shower was in easy reach for him to steady himself as he caught Conrad’s body. His lover tumbled forward, leaning into him, giving his weight as his legs finally shook themselves loose.