by R. Cayden
I swallowed to stop myself from quivering. “It’s true,” I said, then blurted out a laugh as I finished my sentence. “We’re a team.”
Leo rolled his eyes. “All right, weirdo. Fine. I won’t bring it up anymore.”
Cass gave me a soft squeeze, then stepped away. “Thank you. Now come on. I’ll help you load up the car.”
After Leo took off, I finally had a chance to hop in the shower. I wanted to sleep more, but all the coffee had me wired, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the night before.
I hadn’t expected Cass to go down on me, but when he did, it immediately felt right. He held me in his mouth so carefully and kissed me and sucked on me in a way that sent shivers up my spine. As I toweled myself off in the bathroom, I remembered the way he had teased my orgasm out with his tongue, and I had to lean on the sink to steady myself.
Later, I came back downstairs with a book under my arm and found Cass on the living room couch, playing with his phone. Since Leo was gone, I let myself hop right on the couch beside him, throwing my legs over his lap.
“Hey there,” Cass laughed, then tossed his device to the coffee table. “I was just about to head out to the studio. I want to hang gutters before the storms come through this week.” He rested his hand on my knee, then tickled it. “Unless you’re here to distract me, that is.”
I grinned. I was glad he seemed as horny as I was. So long as Cass kept wanting to hook up, it was pretty easy to keep myself out of self-doubt.
“You should do the gutters,” I said. “I really want to get some reading done today.”
Cass ran his hand through his hair. “Good idea. And hey, thanks for sticking up for me this morning.”
“Sticking up for you?” I raised an eyebrow.
“When Leo was trying to push an agent on me. Again. He would have kept going at it if you hadn’t said something.”
“Oh, right,” I smiled. “I’m glad I could help.” I stretched my legs across Cass’s lap, glad that I could make a difference for him. “That reminds me. You talked about your parents a couple times with Leo. I knew you weren’t close, but did they really use to miss family dinner?”
Cass chuckled. “It probably wouldn’t be right to call it family dinner. I ate alone more often than I ate with either of them.”
“That sucks,” I said. “I didn’t realize that.”
He shook his head, his hand stroking my leg. “It’s not so bad. A lot of people I know had it so much worse. I had a roof over my head, a car when I turned sixteen, even my own drum set. I can’t complain about any of that.”
I scrunched up my mouth in thought. “I guess so. But a car and drum set aren’t the same as parents.”
Cass sat there for a minute, his eyes across the room. I watched a cloud pass over his face, softening his features and tugging them down.
“You know, they didn’t even really care when Leo and I started getting in trouble. At the time, I thought it was the best. Leo came over after school, we messed around and drank beer and played with the drums, and no one bothered us at all. With all the crap he was going through, being harassed for coming out of the closet, I thought it was the best fucking thing. Like my rich parents were giving us all the space we needed to be ourselves. But when I realized they just didn’t care, I kept acting out more and more, thinking I’d finally get a reaction out of them. I’m lucky I didn’t crash my car or fail out of school totally, but every problem I got into, they just bought their way out of it anyway.”
I sat up and rested my hand on his arm. “That sucks,” I said again, wanting to make sure he understood that it was okay to feel hurt by their actions.
Cass shrugged, then leaned closer to me. “They probably shouldn’t have been parents in the first place. Once I left and their careers really took off, they were a lot happier. They realized a long time ago that I wouldn’t live up to their expectations, and I guess it was easier to just write me off and move on with their lives.” He shook his head softly. “The whole thing made me independent. It taught me that I was responsible for myself and that I couldn’t waste my life trying to make other people happy. I like who I am, and I wouldn’t change that for anything.”
I hummed quietly under my breath, my heart aching to think of him on his own like that. I had plenty of experience feeling lonely, like an outcast, and I hated that Cass lived with that same pain. “I like who you are, too. And I wish your parents hadn’t sucked.”
Cass laughed and rubbed the back of my head, sending little shivers down my spine. “Enough of all that. I’m keeping you from your work.”
I traced my fingers over the cover of the book, lying on the arm of the couch. “It’s okay. I’m not sure I’m going to get it done, anyway, if I end up taking this job.”
Cass swung my legs off his lap as he stood. “Then don’t take the job,” he said flatly.
I tilted my head to the side, surprised by how confidently he said it. “Like Leo told me, though, just writing one book isn’t really a career.”
Cass laughed. “Didn’t we just agree? Leo’s too hung up on his career. I know you’ve got an amazing book in you, Shawn. Don’t get scared and settle for some job you don’t really want.”
“I wish I were that confident about it,” I replied, tapping my fingers on the book cover. It seemed impossible to treat my pipe dream like a serious plan for my future. The summer was just supposed to be a detour, a way to indulge myself before I tackled my adult responsibilities. But hearing Cass’s encouragement, it felt a little easier to believe something more was possible.
“How about this,” Cass said. “Why don’t you set a goal for yourself, and I can give you a reward once you get it done. Maybe in a couple weeks you could show some writing to your old professor or submit it to a publisher?”
I shook my head quickly. “I haven’t even told Dr. Freeman I’m writing a book,” I explained. “I don’t want to waste her time.”
Cass cocked his eyebrow at me. “Waste her time? Hell no. She’ll be lucky to read it first, Shawn.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “A reward?” I asked softly.
Cass grinned. “I’ll make it really good, if it helps you stay motivated. You just have to promise you’ll read me a few excerpts, too, once you’re ready.”
I went over my work schedule in my head. It would be hard, but it was definitely possible to get some chapters to Dr. Freeman in a couple weeks, and I needed to give her a decision about the job anyway. Plus, I was reaching the point where I needed the objective opinion of someone in the field. If she were open to glancing at it, she’d be the perfect person.
Looking to Cass, I just wished I could offer something similar to him. I knew he had a lot of questions about his own future and his drumming career, and I wanted to be the person there helping him figure it all out. I wanted to cheer him on and bounce around ideas together and stand by his side when things weren’t going his way.
But those were all boyfriend things, the kind of stuff you’d do after making a real commitment to someone else. And I reminded myself again that a fun summer hookup was not the same as an actual relationship.
“Okay,” I said with a sharp nod. “It’s a deal. Thanks, Cass.”
He grinned down at me. “Good. Now get that writing done. I still want plenty of recreational breaks.”
Chapter Eighteen
Cass
The weeks after Leo took off, things were like a dream around the house. Summer heated up, and I got in a habit of working in the early part of the day and in the evening, when the air was still cool. After noon, I’d make a big lunch to share with Shawn, and the two of us would take a long break. Almost always, I’d end up undressing him and finding new ways to play with his pretty body and to tease new whimpers and moans from his lips.
The rhythm we shared was easy and steady, like drumming along with a perfect guitarist. We just fell into place beside each other. I was especially happy to help support him while he worked on his book. After Monica and
Leo and everyone else in my life doubted my choice to leave the band, he was the first person to believe me and trust that I knew how to make the right choice for myself, and I wanted to give the same to him.
Shawn just had a way of doing that, seeing who I was and not judging me for it. It was like with my parents. Sure, I knew they were shitty before Shawn told me. I’d made peace with that fact a long time ago. But no one had ever looked in me eye like he did and told me that I deserved better, and as the days passed by, I realized how much that mattered.
Tearing down the old insulation from the studio and shoving it in trash bags, driving back from town with new flooring in the bed of the truck, drumming along to those weird space sounds—it seemed like no matter what I was doing, it was all part of the life Shawn and I were living for that summer. I knew that he was going to be there at the end of the day to make dinner together, and that when the stars came out, he’d show me whatever had caught his imagination that night.
One night, he showed me Jupiter, so bright that I could see the blue and white bands around the giant planet and Saturn, with big white rings circling it. And on the night of a full moon, we spent hours passing the telescope back and forth and staring up at the gray mountains and craters as we shot the shit, just talking about life.
It only felt natural that I wanted to make sure he felt as good as I felt around him. I had started wrapping my arms around his belly while he did the dishes and inviting him to sleep in my bed more often than not. I was addicted to touching him, and the way he pressed his body into mine, I knew that Shawn liked it just as much.
I did start to wonder what it all meant for me, though. My relationship with Monica had been like all my other relationships—it started off with great sex and fun nights and then puttered out like an old motor, running out of gas. But even in the early days of hooking up with a new girlfriend, I never was very affectionate. Sure, I’d be sweet in my own ways, and I always tried to show the people I was with that I cared. But with Shawn, I wanted to slide my hand into his back pocket while we walked through the trails behind the house and wake him every morning with kisses down his chest.
Was that because Shawn was a guy or just because Shawn was Shawn? Outside of the one drunken night when I’d made out with that stranger, I’d never felt attracted to a man before. I didn’t doubt for a second that my relationships with women had been real and that the sexual charge was there. Everything just felt so different with him, like the satisfaction just from touching was enough to light my whole body up.
If I were rubbing cocks with anyone else, I would have called Leo right away. He’d be able to give me the straightforward advice that I needed. Since that was off the table, though, I was left to figure out my new bisexuality on my own
For that summer, anyway, I could just let it be, happy that Shawn and I had found our way back to each other. After thinking I was going to spend the months alone, nursing a breakup and drinking way too much beer at night, I’d gotten something so much better.
The night of Shawn’s deadline, I stood in the bathroom, checking myself out in the mirror. My shave was decent, with just the start of a shadow on my jaw, and my hair was hanging back in the way that I liked. I splashed some water on my face, bared my teeth to the mirror, and nodded.
I grabbed a bottle of wine in a couple of glasses, then headed upstairs. Shawn was sitting at his desk, scrunched over his keyboard and typing with a furrowed brow. I stood there a minute, watching him. I could practically see the sparks flying out of his ears, he looked that focused, and it impressed me the same as it sent a jolt of desire down my body.
“Hey,” I said, breaking the spell.
Shawn turned to me with an open smile. He was wearing his old NASA shirt, and he adjusted his glasses as he met my eyes. “Oh, hey. Is it dinner time already?”
“Not quite.” I lifted the bottle of wine. “But you said you might meet your deadline this afternoon, so…”
Shawn laughed, his arm draped over the back of his chair. “I’ve been done for two hours. I just keep rewriting the email to Dr. Freeman over and over again. She really probably doesn’t have time—”
“Hey,” I cut him off. “It’s part of the deal. You want a reward or not?”
Shawn half-smiled. “Yes, I really want a reward.”
“Good,” I laughed, then dropped my voice. “Then send the damn email.”
Shawn turned back to the laptop and typed rapidly for a minute, then turned his eyes away and hit send.
“Look at that,” I chuckled. “I only had to use my stern voice once.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Good to know.”
Shawn stood and accepted the glass I offered him. “If you haven’t figured out that your voice is hot,” he teased, “you haven’t been paying attention.”
I poured some wine into his glass, then mine. “Congratulations,” I said. “You just worked your ass off, man.”
We clinked glasses. “Thanks for helping and for all the lunches.” He blinked a couple of times, glancing up at me. “When do I find out what my reward is, by the way?”
“There’s two parts,” I said. I reached into the back pocket of my shorts, then pulled out a piece of paper. Unfolding it, I offered it to Shawn. “This is the first part.”
Shawn adjusted his glasses as he looked at the paper. “The Atlanta Grant? Is this a hotel reservation?”
“Two nights,” I said, bouncing back on my heels. “I figured you could use a little trip to clear your head. And I’ve been getting curious to see more of your life. I thought you could show me your favorite places, introduce me to your friend Audrey. You’ve talked about missing her a few times.”
Shawn shook his head lightly. I was having trouble reading the expression on his face. His lips were slightly parted, and I saw the pink of his tongue flick across his teeth. Behind his glasses, his eyes narrowed, like he was trying to make sense of something.
“You want to see my favorite places?” he asked.
“Sure,” I answered, suddenly nervous I’d screwed the reward up. “If that sounds fun to you. The drive is about five and a half hours, but it’s beautiful the whole way. You can just relax. I’ll get us there.” I licked the back of my teeth. “Does that sound fun?”
Shawn dropped the paper to his desk and turned to me with a big smile. “Yes,” he said quickly. “Yes, totally, Cass. It sounds great.”
I let out a puff of breath. “Oh, good. Fuck, I thought you were disappointed.”
“No, not at all. It’s just—I’m not really sure what there is to show you. I didn’t go out to the clubs or explore all the tourist sites or anything like that.”
I laughed. “I know what your life was like there, Shawn. Do you really think I was expecting you to turn into a different person the second we got to the city?”
Shawn blushed, and I felt my body warm in response. “No,” he said. “Thanks, Cass. This is perfect.”
“We’ll take off tomorrow morning and get there in the afternoon. Do you want to hit up Audrey, let her know we’re coming?”
“Sure. But Cass, didn’t you say there was a second part?”
“Oh yeah.” I looked him up and down, taking my time to rake my gaze across his body. Shawn looked back at me, still blushing, and took a big drink from his wine. “Part two is even more exciting,” I said, my voice rolling across a growl.
The idea had popped into my head a week ago, and whenever I jerked off in the shower or woke up from a horny dream, my mind went straight back to it. I knew that it was something I wanted to do, but still, it had taken me a minute to work up the courage.
I pressed my lips close to Shawn’s ear, and he rewarded me by quivering against my body. “The second we get in that hotel room, I’m going to rim you until you beg me to come.”
Chapter Nineteen
Shawn
Naturally, I spent the whole truck ride to Atlanta thinking about Cass rimming my hole. It wasn’t even a fantasy I had really entertained before, but now t
hat he had whispered it in my ear, it was all I could think about, like an electric charge humming in the truck.
Luckily, there was a beautiful morning and afternoon to distract me. The interstate took us through winding mountains, popping with vibrant greens. With the windows in the truck cracked, Cass explained what it was to be a studio musician and told me about this drummer James Gadson. He played me songs that featured the guy, everything from The Temptations to Beck. I nodded along, happy to get the tour through music history. Paying attention to the music Cass played all summer, I’d been learning to appreciate a good percussion line in a way I never had before.
Somewhere near the Georgia border, I even worked up the courage to read him some new passages from my book. He listened carefully, nodding his head and smiling at all the right moments, then asked me a few smart questions after. The satisfaction of an appreciative audience thrilled me, and when his questions unlocked a few new thoughts, I kicked myself that I hadn’t been reading the book to him the whole time.
My chest fluttered when we pulled up to the hotel, a big stone building across the street from a park. I never would have dreamed Cass would take me anywhere, let alone to a hotel. But from the filthy look he gave me as we parked the car, I knew he hadn’t forgotten our plans.
I leaned across the seat and pressed my hand to his chest. “Thank you for the vacation,” I whispered.
The lobby was sleek and minimally designed, with big glass walls and short leather benches scattered around. Cass checked us in as I stood behind him, watching the employee at the desk figure us out. We probably looked like a couple, I realized, and at least for that weekend, we kind of were.
Alone in the elevator, Cass dropped the bags to his feet and pressed me against the mirrored wall. “Fuck,” he growled, then grabbed my wrist and pressed my hand to his hard cock. “Look how hard I am just thinking about rimming you.”