by A. J. Thomas
Tonya’s parents continued, expressing how grateful they were that their daughter was alive and surrounded by friends who could help her recover. A single tear slipped down Tonya’s cheek when it was her turn. “There’s so much,” she said. “And I can’t seem… to find the words. I wish places like this could go up against big companies in those ‘best places to work’ surveys, because this absolutely kicks ass.”
Nate seemed a bit worried as he glanced between Marci and Tonya’s parents. “Don’t worry about it, they’re used to me,” she assured him.
“I guess it’s my turn, then?” Nate asked. “Huh.” He looked at Sean, his expression soft and sappy. “I’m actually thankful for Oliver Wendell Holmes’s poem ‘The Chambered Nautilus.’ When I first met Sean, I only knew that he listened to heavy metal and worked as a tattoo artist. Then I saw him drawing the most incredible work of art I’d ever seen and talking about the poem that inspired him, and I couldn’t think about anything else. If I hadn’t kept coming back to talk about that nautilus tattoo, well… I’m glad I did.”
“Oh my God, you’re so cute together!” Tonya almost squealed, in the surprised tone that Sean was learning to identify as a signal that he’d soon have to explain the last few days all over again. “What about you?” she asked Sean.
“I’m thankful for the fact that octopuses thrive after losing a limb, and for the man who reminded me I can too.” Sean squeezed Nate’s knee under the table. “Oh, and for bananas.”
“Bananas?” Marci asked, chuckling.
“Oh.” Tonya seemed to understand after a moment.
“Bananas go bad quick,” he explained. “But you can still eat them even after they’ve gotten so brown most folks won’t buy them. Because they go bad so fast, supermarkets throw them out by the box. When I came to live with Hawk, I was a little… psycho?” He glanced at Hawk, who glared at him. “I was weird about food. I carried my backpack with me everywhere, and I really couldn’t relax unless it was stuffed full of food. So I’d go dumpster diving and get bananas. A couple times I didn’t eat them and they got nasty, and Hawk or Tonya found them. The first time, I think he believed me when I told him they were a snack from school I’d forgotten about. The second time, he didn’t say anything, just threw them out. The third time, my backpack ended up so gross Tonya went and got me a new one from Goodwill.”
“I did,” she admitted. “I’m sorry, but the old one had to go.”
“It was nasty. But the part I’m grateful for started the next day. Every day since then, for the last ten years, there’ve been bananas, cups of ramen, and granola bars over there with the coffee. Every day. I gorged on them. When I couldn’t eat any more, I took them and shoved them in my backpack. And no matter how much food I took, the two of you made sure there was more there the next day. I can’t say when I stopped panicking about food, when the obsession started to fade… but it did. You both cared about me regardless of the stupid shit I did, and you never stopped. I can’t begin to tell you how thankful I am that you’re in my life.”
Hawk’s familiar hand enveloped his shoulder. Not quite a hug, but it was as close as they usually got. “That’s what family’s for, kid.”
Across the table, Tonya sniffled and wiped at her eyes. Marci looked like she was crying too, and she was beaming at Hawk like he’d hung every star in the sky himself.
“All right, I’m done being sentimental. I’m not that unobsessed with food,” Sean said, gesturing to his almost overflowing plate.
“Me, then?” Hawk huffed. “Well, it’s been a hell of a year. Sean, Tonya, you two have driven me onto high blood pressure medication, thank you very much. And you…,” Hawk said, waving a menacing finger at Nate. “I ain’t never been sure if I should be overprotective and scare your ass away or smack you both upside the head and lock you in a closet until you sorted this out. All I can say to this thing between you is, it’s about damn time. As for the rest, we all came through the year alive. Not in one piece, I admit, but alive. This year has definitely driven home the fact that that’s something to be thankful for.”
“There’s still a month left in the year, so no jinxing it,” Sean mumbled.
After that, they all seemed more relaxed. Dinner was quite possibly the strangest thing he’d ever experienced at Hawk’s. The conversation flowed around them, despite how different everyone was, and Tonya seemed to be getting her appetite back for the first time since she’d been released from the hospital. Sean poked at the cranberry sauce, not quite sure what to make of the actual berries sitting on his plate. It wasn’t quite the cylindrical slices of cranberry jelly he remembered, but it tasted okay, even if it was slightly less fun to drum on with the back of his spoon. Thankfully Nate just shot him an endearing look and laughed at him.
Eating early in the afternoon proved to be a good thing, since Tonya was falling asleep at the table by six. Her parents helped her pack up some leftovers so they wouldn’t have to cook at her apartment or run out to get anything for a day or so, then helped her out to their car. When Sean offered her the keys to her Beetle, she closed his fingers over them and shoved them back. “Fair’s fair. I drove you all over when you couldn’t manage it. Now that my car’s running, you can drive me.”
“But….” Sean tried to give her the keys again.
“I know it’s girly, but if you can man up enough to fix it, I’m sure you can manage to drive it. Dragonfly decals and all.”
“I wasn’t going to comment on the dragonflies. The flowers, maybe. And the unicorn in the back window.”
“It’s Rainbow Dash, from My Little Pony. She’s not a unicorn. And you cannot complain about it—it’s almost as gay as my rainbow-flag bumper sticker.”
“Your car, your choice. But if I’m stuck driving it, I get to complain.”
“Then you can just leave it parked out back and beg your sexy lawyer for a ride. But you get to pick me up for work Monday. And until then, you’ve got it if you need it.”
Knowing she wasn’t going to give in, he pocketed her keys and gave her a gentle hug. “Then promise you’ll call if you need anything? Or if anything weird happens with your head?”
“I’ve got the list of stuff to watch for,” she assured him. “And my parents are going to be in town through Sunday.”
“Okay,” he relented.
“Kiddo,” Hawk said from the door. “I’m going to take Marci home. Don’t wait up, okay?”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Sean said with a smirk.
He waved as they both headed out the back door, Hawk humming quietly.
“So,” Nate said, wrapping his arms around Sean’s waist. “Does that mean we have the shop all to ourselves?”
Sean tried to answer, but Nate’s lips against his neck wiped every rational thought from his brain. “Space…,” he gasped.
“Oh, there’s plenty of space, if you’re up for it.”
“Been up for it since I watched you leaning over Tonya’s car. I’m just not sure about staying here in the shop, you know?”
Nate chuckled against him. “The security gate is down, so no one can see inside. So long as we lock the back door, I’d say that makes the couches fair game.”
Sean tried to imagine how they’d both fit on the small couches, but then his mind wandered to the reclining massage chairs they used at each work station. He’d gone through puberty in the studio, and he’d had more than a handful of fantasies about the damn things. There was always the possibility that if he did manage to get Nate naked and stretched out beneath him he’d never be able to focus on a tattoo again, but that was one hell of a tempting risk.
Nate traced the outline of Sean’s cock, already hard and straining against the inside of his jeans. “Is that a yes?”
Sean leaned back against Nate’s chest, noting that he was just as hard as Sean himself. “That’s a ‘hell yes.’”
Nate turned them both toward the front of the shop and let Sean go ahead of him, matching his pace and rubbing small cir
cles against his back. Sean stopped at the gate to the private workroom, glanced back at Nate, and then looked at the chair. Nate raised both eyebrows and smirked. “That’s….” He was panting. “Can we?”
Sean turned around and wrapped his arms around Nate’s neck, claiming his lips in a quick, promising kiss. “We could. I don’t have lube or anything, though.”
“I do,” Nate whispered, shifting his hands to the front of Sean’s jeans, unbuttoning them and shoving them and Sean’s boxers down.
“You came to Thanksgiving dinner expecting to get laid?”
Nate gently pushed Sean backward until his thighs bumped into the chair. “Not expecting, no. Definitely hoping, though. Sit back,” he said, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and kicking off his shoes.
“Uh, this might work better if you’re the one sitting down….”
Nate tossed his slacks and briefs aside, then pulled Sean’s T-shirt off. “Sit back,” he said again. “Unless you really don’t want to fuck me.”
Sean gaped at him, naked and stroking himself nonchalantly. “I…. Obviously, I do, but….”
Nate chuckled and shoved him back onto the massage chair. “You’re overthinking things. This chair is practically as wide as a twin bed—I’m sure we can figure it out.” He kissed Sean deeply, driving him back against the vinyl.
Sean pushed back, sweeping his tongue across Nate’s lips and running his hands over his shoulders. He reveled in the touch of his skin, intoxicated by heat radiating between them. Sean traced each curve, the outline of each muscle and bone, almost getting distracted by the sea of potential designs he could ink onto that skin. The limitless possibilities left him dizzy with anticipation.
When Nate pumped his swollen cock, Sean gasped against his mouth.
“Lube?” he asked.
“One sec.” Nate pulled away from him with a wet sound and knelt beside his slacks. He returned a moment later with a small tube of silicone lube and a condom with an extravagant blonde drag queen winking suggestively on the wrapper. Sean held up the package, not even needing to voice the question. “You know that gay bar that used to be on the beach? The Splash Bar? Their Fourth-of-July thing was huge, and they had bowls of these set out on the bar and the tables. I thought they were cool.”
“You went to a drag show for the Fourth?” Sean asked, ripping open the package. “That settles it—we need to spend every holiday together, because today was so much better than microwaved pizza, and that sounds like a lot more fun than watching the fireworks with the nurses at Houston Methodist.”
“It was fun,” Nate said with a nod. “It’d be more fun with you.”
Sean rolled the condom on and took the lube while Nate began attacking his neck and collarbone again. He ended up squirting half the tube onto his fingers, enough to leave the cleft of Nate’s ass nothing but a slick mess before he began to stretch him. Sean had to sit up to reach deep enough to find Nate’s prostate, and when he did, Nate pitched forward, shaking against Sean’s shoulder. He stroked his middle finger across it again, watching the tremors snake their way up Nate’s body.
“Stop that, or we’ll never get any further,” Nate gasped after the sixth or seventh time.
Sean stroked the inside of Nate’s body once more, then slid his fingers out. “I guess that would be a pity,” he said in a tone that he hoped made it clear he had no problem at all getting Nate off with his hands.
Maneuvering awkwardly onto the chair, Nate knelt over Sean and lined himself up. Sean ran his hands up Nate’s thighs, settled them on his hips, and urged him down. He could hardly breathe as Nate engulfed him, hot and tight and perfect.
Nate rolled his hips, experimenting with the angle and position before he began to move with a shudder. When he shifted up and down, rocking with each upward motion, Sean’s world closed in around him until the only thing he could focus on was the way Nate’s body felt.
Sean was glad Nate was in charge, because he couldn’t seem to control the awkward way his body thrust into Nate, not even close to matching Nate’s rhythm and pace. He managed enough clarity to reach for Nate’s cock, stroking him from balls to tip as he tried to hold back.
It wasn’t long before Nate lowered himself as far as he could and paused, his entire body rigid and taut as he spilled over Sean’s chest. Sean drank in the sight, the pressure inside him snapping so hard he felt the shock of his orgasm all the way to his toes. He gently grazed his thumb over the head of Nate’s cock, drawing out another of those tremors he was beginning to adore.
Nate was breathing hard as he leaned forward, holding himself over Sean’s chest. “I’ve wanted to do that for… not months… maybe months… a long time. But damn, I doubt I will ever be able to get another tattoo without getting hard. This is trickier than I thought it’d be, though.”
Sean rubbed his hands around Nate’s shoulders. “If I wear you out enough beforehand, I’m sure we can manage another tattoo session.” He buried his hands in Nate’s hair and sighed. They needed to get cleaned up, because even if he didn’t particularly want to move, he could feel Nate’s legs shaking.
He wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, but eventually Nate eased off him, and Sean reluctantly let him go. “Suppose I can use your bathroom?”
“Uh….” He squashed the usual panic that rose inside him every time he thought about Nate seeing his bathroom. It was utilitarian and very much his—including the shower chair that made it possible for him to get cleaned up while sitting down, and the extra liners he rotated between. It was like knowing he’d left a half-dozen pairs of boxers hung up on the towel rack, but weirder.
“You know I’ve used your bathroom a dozen times,” Nate said, staring at him seriously. “I told you I don’t mind the clutter. And hell, you’ve seen my bathroom.”
“But yours is normal clutter,” Sean insisted. “And mine…. You’re right. I’ve got to get over that.”
“Yup. Unless you’ve got a kinky dildo sitting out on the counter, because then your reaction might be reasonable.”
Sean laughed despite his unease. “No sex toys on the counter,” he promised. “Although I’m surprised you’d actually be worried about something like that.”
“Worried—no. Amused and optimistically curious—definitely.”
“Well, now I have to find the most terrifying sex toy the internet has to offer and leave it out the next time you come over.”
Nate pressed his forehead against his shoulder and chuckled.
“Maybe something spikey,” Sean added.
Nate laughed and carefully climbed off him, squirming as he stood up. He offered Sean a hand, but Sean shook his head. He got up, still light-headed enough that it took him a moment to get his balance. “I’m okay,” he said, for what felt like the millionth time.
Despite Sean’s reservations, they got cleaned up together, trading jokes about monstrous dildos while Nate wiped his cum off Sean’s chest and Sean returned the favor. It was strangely intimate, more so than actually being inside Nate, and it left him giddy.
He insisted on walking Nate around the shopping center to the front parking lot just before midnight, unable to stop smiling. He felt capable and confident for the first time in months. Nate entwined their fingers together, kissed him gently on the lips, and then kissed his knuckles.
“My mom always shows up with leftovers on Black Friday,” Nate said. “Always around lunchtime, and she brings a ton of food. Would you like to come out to my place and help me finish them off tomorrow night? You could bring a change of clothes, whatever else you need, and stay the night? I promise I will give you complete and total privacy wherever and whenever you need it.”
Sean almost laughed at how excited the idea made him. Terrified, but excited. “We could try it.”
“Good. You going to be able to go back in through the front?” Nate asked, eyeing the metal storm shutter that they’d kept in place all day.
Sean shook his head in answer. “I can make it back around. So far
today all I’ve done is watch you fix a car. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Absolutely. Call me if you don’t want to drive the Rainbow Dash-mobile?”
“You’ve got it.”
Nate kissed him again and headed to his car with a smile.
Then he turned to circle around to the back of the building again, only half paying attention, his gaze drawn to Nate’s car as his headlights turned on.
He was so distracted he almost missed the way a darker shadow moved against the glass windows of the Chinese restaurant. There was someone standing there. Normally he wouldn’t have paid any attention. It was a busy shopping center, and even if it was the middle of the night, people were always coming and going. But whoever was standing in the dark wasn’t moving.
He hesitated, trying to convince himself he was being paranoid—and in that moment of stillness, the man in the shadows started to run toward him.
The man, bigger than Sean and dressed in dark clothes, plowed into his back. The force of the impact lifted him off his feet and drove him into the wall. He used his right leg and his arms to shove back against the bastard, but he was too slow. A thick arm wrapped around his neck, lifting him off balance. He clawed at the man’s sleeve, trying to loosen his grip, but it was hard to move and hard to breathe. Something glinted in his attacker’s left hand, a four-inch blade that looked steel blue in the gloomy light.
Sean shifted his hands, his right hand scraping against the edge of the knife as he grabbed the man’s wrist.
“Hey! Let him go!” Nate bellowed, sprinting over the curb.
The man flinched at the sound of Nate’s voice, his focus shattered. It gave Sean a chance to push the knife away, but a moment later he was dropped hard onto the cement. Despite getting loose, he still couldn’t breathe. He clawed at his throat, wincing at the pain, and managed a shallow, desperate gasp, then got to his knees as Nate chased the man with the knife around the corner of the shopping center. Sean tried to swear, but all he managed was a croaking cough. He grabbed his cane and got to his feet, then dug his cell phone out of his pocket and called 9-1-1. He couldn’t draw in enough air to tell the operator what was happening, but he managed the word “police” and the name of the shop. She told him to stay on the line, and he grunted out something that he hoped sounded like a yes and then hurried after Nate.