Roy got the mouthwash off the counter and poured me a capful. “Here. That will get the taste out of your mouth.”
I sloshed it around and spit in the toilet.
“Better?”
“I should have been the one who died.”
He put me in the bed. “Do you want me to stay?”
“She asked me if I knew where he was.”
Roy stripped down to his boxers and shifted around next to me until I had my head on his shoulder.
“She begged me to tell her, and I said I didn’t know.”
He held me, and I cried myself to sleep.
********
Morning turned the kitchen into gold, and dust motes dance and twirled in the sunbeams. A door slammed somewhere, and a woman yelled. An infant cried for his mother. Then someone turned up their radio drowning the sounds of urban poverty under a steady bass thump.
Roy’s long lashes rested against his cheeks, and his eyes flicked behind his lids. Sleep had erased decades of worry, leaving behind a youthful innocence.
There was a scar on his chin and a flat round mole near his ear. Silver salted his shadow of a beard, and I itched to run my finger up his jaw just to hear the sound it would make.
What would life be like filled with simple moments like this? For time to be measured in heartbeats and exhales rather than seconds and minutes?
What would it feel like to know I was safe, not because of a lock on the door but because of the line of warmth pressed against me and the weight of an arm around my ribs?
The idea of never knowing cut me with dark blues and pierced me with gray. There were other colors too, but I didn’t know the names and had no control over how they mixed and where they flowed.
Roy opened his eyes. They were darker than usual, making him all the more rugged.
“How are you feeling?” He caressed my cheek; a dull ache followed his fingers.
How was I feeling? No anger. No contempt. Just more worry and concern. Words that should have meant nothing to me, but like everything else about Roy, they broke through the layers of color and line I’d wrapped myself in.
He ran a hand down my back. “Do you want me to get another blanket?”
“No.”
“You’re shaking.”
Because I was afraid of waking up another day without the man in front of me, the sound of his voice, and his touch on my skin. Roy had broken me open. If I lost him now, I’d fall into a place far darker than the rabbithole. I’d never needed anyone to want me.
Part of me hated Roy for that.
He pulled the covers higher. I shoved them away and sat up.
“What’s wrong?” Roy propped himself on his elbow.
“Why did you come get me last night?”
Confusion crumpled his features. “Because you needed help.”
I stood, and he moved to the edge of the bed. Roy reached for me, and I stepped back.
More colors I didn’t know and couldn’t name. I pressed the heel of my hand against the side of my head in a sad attempt to stop them from filling up my skull. Like everything else when it came to Roy, I was helpless.
He stepped in front of me. “Paris…”
I stumbled back. “No. Just…just…” I held up a hand to keep him back. “Just tell me why. Explain to me. All of it.”
“What’s to explain?”
I clenched my hands. Heat ate a path up my face. My throat tightened. Spit flecked my lips. “Everything, Roy! Explain everything! Your stupid park, your stupid slaughtered hotdogs, and your stupid, stupid sled! Goddamn it, just tell me what you want from me, because I can’t get away from it. I can’t get away from you.”
Roy held me prisoner against the wall, not with the strength in his body but the power in his eyes. That look I saw the first time we were together, only it had grown, taken over, come alive.
He cupped my face, and I couldn’t turn away. “I came for you because I care about you. I did those things because I wanted to give you something you’ve never had before. I want to show you that being with you wasn’t about sex, it was about you. Just you.”
“You weren’t a bit put off by sticking your dick in my ass before.”
“I know.”
“Then what changed? Why don’t you want me now?”
He touched his forehead to mine. “I do want you.” His sigh brushed my lips. “I want you so bad it hurts.”
“Then what’s stopping you?” If only he would throw me against the wall and fuck me. That I could understand. Those colors I could name.
“Because you can have sex with anyone but very few would ever want to love you.” Roy’s touch burned through my skin, my bones, and flowed over my body in a wave of need and lust. It ravaged me with a kind of desire I’d never experienced.
The room blurred.
“Will you let me?”
I swallowed, but my voice still cracked. “What?”
“Love you.” Roy rubbed his cheek against mine. “Please, Paris. I know it’s not what you’re used to, and it might not even be what you want, but it’s the most valuable thing I have.”
Those colors I didn’t know had a name now. I knotted Roy’s shirt in my fist. “I don’t know how.”
“I’ll teach you.” He kissed my neck.
“What if I fail?”
“You won’t.” Roy slid his hands down my body.
“It’ll hurt.”
“Only a little.”
No. It would chew me up and spit me out. But not before tearing me apart and breaking every bone in my body.
“Paris. Please let me love you. Even if it’s just for a little while. Even if it’s just this moment.”
I pressed my face into his neck. “I’m scared.”
“I know.” He pulled me away from the wall. “But I won’t hurt you. I would never hurt you.”
I believed him, but the precious gift he called love came with a price, and there wasn’t enough money in the world to repay the debt I would owe.
He maneuvered me to the bed and pushed me into the sheets. I must have made a sound, cried out or maybe whimpered because Roy shushed me and petted down my side.
Roy brushed his lips across my shoulders as he traced my arms, my fingers, and then my ribs, leaving a tingling outline around my body.
“It’s okay.”
Only it wasn’t okay. I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t even know what I was supposed to do.
Roy pressed his lips to mine, and with languid strokes of his tongue, he worshiped my mouth.
I was wrong to ever think I knew how to kiss. What I did was a gluttonous feeding. What Roy did, coaxing my tongue to twine with his, caressing my mouth with his lips, sighing into me, and stealing away my breath, was a kiss.
Roy stroked my aching cock once and squeezed my balls. I spread my legs wider, but his touch disappeared and it was like nothing below my waist even existed.
Frustration ticked out of my throat in small desperate cries. I pawed at him wanting more and getting none of it. Roy murmured something against my throat, but I was too ignorant to understand.
I wasn’t even sure I was capable of it.
Roy kissed my palm, my wrist, even my goddamned knees. Sometimes he held me close or far enough away to run his gaze over my body. The way he coveted me with his eyes made me burn.
“Please.”
Roy drew a hot line with his tongue from my neck to my shoulder. “Please what?”
“I need…”
He teased my lips with a caress from his. “What do you need?”
“Something…anything.” His cock in my ass, his mouth on my dick, his lips pressed to mine or his tongue invading me and raging battle.
I dug my fingers into the mattress. The muscles in my back tightened until my spine bowed. My aching cock bled precum on my stomach, but the need for release didn’t compare to the violent hunger Roy stirred inside me.
He blanketed my body with his bare skin. “It’s okay.” He thumbed my right ni
pple. An electric burst danced through me and settled in my nuts.
There was a hollow scrape from the bedside table followed by the rustle of things being moved around. A soft snick cut through the sound of me panting. Roy put my leg against his hip and slid a cold slick finger into my ass, and the air rushed out of my lungs. The mattress squeaked and dipped, then more fluid ran down the crack of my ass.
“Look at me, Paris.”
I’d die if I did. The power he held me with would cut me into pieces.
“That’s it. Show me your gorgeous eyes. Let me see how good you feel.” Roy added a second finger.
“More.” I tried to rock against him, but he braced me with a hand on my stomach while he pumped both of his thick fingers in and out of me, slicking up and stretching my opening to take his cock. I put my other leg on his shoulder.
Roy kissed my ankle. “I’ll give you everything, Paris, every part of me.” He took away his fingers, and the thick head of his cock pressed against my hole.
In one long stroke, he breached my opening, filling me fuller than any time before. It was forever before the weight of his balls pressed against my ass.
Roy chewed his bottom lip, and the cords stood out on his neck. For a while, he just stayed there, kissing the tears from my cheeks. Then he cradled me against his body—cherishing me, protecting me—and I clung to him. My life raft in the torrid wake of existence.
I realized then I’d been waiting my entire life to find him.
The muscles in Roy’s body flexed as he withdrew to the tip and sheathed himself inside me again. Every measured inch he gave me or took away was the more intense than the hardest fucking of my life.
I let myself flow into his touch and submit to his body. I let him command from me each second of pleasure down to the core of my fear.
He filled me, all of me and I hungered for more.
All the while he told me how he saw me. Not with words but with the way he touched me, kissed me, and…made love to me.
Roy raised himself on his arms, changing his angle and increasing the strength of his thrusts. “I won’t make you wait long. I promise.”
The well of fire building inside me crackled through my bones and danced down my limbs.
“Close, Paris.” My name came out on the back of a growl. “So close. I want you to come with me. Can you do that?” He gripped my cock and stroked.
I wasn’t sure. I don’t even think I cared if I ever found release because I was so wrapped up in the most beautiful experience of my life.
Him.
Roy snapped his hips forward hard enough to bang the bedframe against the wall and shove a cry from my throat.
“Come for me, Paris.”
He squeezed my cock and pressed his thumbnail against the slit. The bite of pain freed me. I sank my fingers into Roy’s shoulders, and with every ounce of strength I had left, I tightened my legs, forcing him as deep as possible. Roy jerked like he’d been hit. The pulse of his cock was followed by a rush of heat. I screamed because I didn’t want this to end, and he drank the sound from my lips.
The chaos faded, leaving the sound of our breathing to fill the space.
What had I done? Somehow I’d let Roy into a place in my heart that I hadn’t felt since I was a child. One that I’d forced myself to forget. A dark and sacred corner where there were first kisses and a boy whose name I couldn’t remember.
Would I betray Roy too?
“It’s okay, Paris. You’re safe.” Roy rolled to the side, taking me with him. “It’s okay.” He kissed me on the temple. “I promise it will be okay.”
But it wasn’t. I’d lost myself to him. Forever.
********
Even with the string pulled tight, the sweatpants I’d borrowed from Roy barely stayed on my hips. I ran the towel over my head one more time before I put on the shirt. The flannel smelled just like him. I would never get tired of that scent. Never.
Would Roy get tired of me?
The rich scent of vanilla filled the rest of the apartment. Roy stood in the kitchen, and the TV on the counter was turned low.
“I’m making french toast.” He moved slices of bread around in a frying pan. “I hope that’s okay with you?”
I sat at the breakfast bar. “It’s fine.”
While he got out dishes, I watched the news. It was going to snow or maybe rain, the weatherman couldn’t decide.
“Do you want some bacon?” Roy didn’t wait for an answer before getting it out of the fridge. “It’s sugar cured. Really good.” The fabric of his shirt tightened across his shoulders. There was a hole near the neck. There were no frayed edges or holes in the shirt he’d given me.
Why?
The weather went off, and a commercial came on. Roy dropped the bacon into the pan. Grease popped, and he jerked back. “Damn.” He sucked his thumb.
“I think it’s retaliating.”
“Might help if I could remember to turn down the heat. I do this every time. You’d think I’d learn my lesson.” He put some paper towels on one of the plates. “So how do you like yours cooked?”
“The same as yours, I guess.”
“You sure?”
I nodded.
“Okay, extra crunchy it is.”
The news returned. A carwreck flashed up on the screen. I picked at the crack in the bar. Everything Roy owned seemed worn-out or broken. I’d eaten meals that cost more than his rent. Yet sitting there in his decrepit apartment, I’d never felt so at home.
“Roy?”
“Hmmm?” He took a jug of orange juice from the fridge and poured two glasses. He sat one down in front of me. “You ever going to finish that thought?”
“Those things you said.” I twisted up my fingers.
“What about them?” He put his hand over mine.
“Did you mean it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He went back to the stove, turned it off, made our plates, and got out the silverware.
Just those few minutes felt like a lifetime. He came back with the food and sat beside me.
Scrambled eggs, french toast, and bacon. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever eaten the combination; if I had, it was never on a chipped plate and with mismatched silverware.
“Please tell me why.” I picked up a piece of bacon but couldn’t find the strength to get it to my mouth.
“I have. Many times.”
“Tell me again.” I need to know it wasn’t a figment of my imagination. Or maybe my desperation.
Roy took the piece of bacon, broke off a small piece, and pushed it past my lips. His thumb lingered, and I sucked the tip. “Because you are beautiful and unique.”
“I’m not.”
“You just can’t see inside yourself.”
He was wrong. I could. And what I saw was terrifying.
“Eat.”
Drinking some of the orange juice seemed to pacify him. Roy ate, and I moved the eggs around the slices of french toast. The TV flickered with a nightclub scene and two figures moving through the crowd. It was a bad angle and the film was grainy, but I knew what it was.
Then his face filled up the screen. The blue of his eyes was brighter than I’d originally thought. In the photo, he wore orange and there was a number stamped across the bottom.
I dropped my fork.
“Paris?”
The new ticker passed the anchor, but my ability to read froze up on murder.
“Paris? What’s wrong?” Roy tried to make me look at him. I pushed his hand away. Nothing existed but the TV screen.
Roy picked up the remote from the edge of the bar and turned up the volume.
“…person of interest in the murders involving three other young gay men. Authorities are still trying to identify the individual who left with Hensley last night from the Diablo nightclub on Princeton Avenue.
“Hensley was last seen driving a mid-sized sedan either black or blue, with a broken headlight. If you have any information rega
rding the whereabouts of Thomas Hensley, you are encouraged to call…” I took the remote from Roy and muted the sound.
“He didn’t look like a Hensley.” I hugged myself. Any moment, I expected to see my breath in the air.
“That was him, wasn’t it?” There was no emotion in Roy’s voice. But something deadly had replaced the light in his eyes. Did he wear that same expression when he'd snapped the man’s neck at the bar?
“Yeah.”
“If they’re looking for him, you didn’t kill him.”
“No.” I didn’t feel any relief. What did that say about me?
Roy pushed his plate away and stood. “C’mon.”
“Where?”
“I’m taking you to the police station so you can fill out a report.”
“What?” I pulled away from him. “No.”
“The police are looking for him, and they need to know that he came after you.”
“Why? It’s done, it’s over.”
“But it doesn’t change the fact it happened. And it could happen again.”
“He’s not going to track me down.”
“What about someone else?”
The faces of three young men flashed up on the screen. They could have been anyone. But even without reading the subtext, I knew they were the men Hensley had killed. Were they the only ones? I wanted to believe they were, but there was no cure for the kind of hate and evil that drove a man to obliterate a life.
If I went, the police would ask questions that I had no answers for. Then they would contact Julia, and she’d bury me under a rock. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I just can’t.”
Roy stepped in front of me. “I’ll be right there with you.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Only because I’d gotten lucky and picked out a killer rather than some married guy looking to play reindeer games behind his wife’s back.
Roy held me by the shoulders. “Whatever you’re thinking, it wasn’t your fault.”
He was wrong. It was my fault. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be afraid.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why can’t you tell the police you saw this man?” He pushed my bangs back. “He could have hurt you.”
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