Quinn hugged him for awhile, then held on tight while he lowered his head and tingled Eli’s mouth with a kiss.
This was supposed to be one of those nice moments of having a boyfriend, someone who gave a shit that you might have gotten killed a few years ago. Knowing that didn’t stop Eli’s dick from responding to Quinn’s kiss or the hands wide and warm on Eli’s back. In his defense, he was a guy, a not quite twenty-three-year-old guy, and his body knew what the other man could make it feel.
Quinn didn’t mind, or if he did, his hands were acting on their own when they slid down to cup Eli’s ass and pull him up tight. Quinn leaned back against the counter, and their dicks lined up for a nice dry hump.
“Yeah. I got you.” Quinn groaned and kissed Eli’s throat, though Eli hadn’t asked for anything.
He knew what he wanted though. Wanted to pull Quinn’s strength and power inside so it would be there as a shield any time Eli needed the boost to his own. Wanted to protect Quinn, too, against the stupid families of the world who took his loyalty and decency for granted.
But Eli didn’t know how to ask for that.
Instead he held on to Quinn’s neck and kissed him, inviting Quinn into his mouth and his body, and when Quinn reached for Eli’s fly, pulled back enough to whisper, “Fuck me.”
Eli tossed off the T-shirt and pajama pants in the hall upstairs and hit the sheets naked. Quinn followed, landing on top, tongue and lips stroking and whispering across Eli’s neck and jaw and chest, while Eli tried to touch back as much as he could. Quinn held Eli’s hands against the mattress and continued with a gentle scrape of stubble everywhere, teasing Eli’s nipples until he finally wet them, sucked them, rubbed them. Eli arched and stretched, especially when Quinn repeated the whole teasing thing right above Eli’s cock. No reward this time, just Quinn gripping Eli’s hips and flipping him over onto his belly and starting at the back of his neck.
No need to pin Eli’s hands now. Not when he was pretty sure where this was going. For all it happened a lot in porn, Eli hadn’t found that many guys who liked to rim, but the way Quinn was sliding his tongue along Eli’s spine made him think he’d hit the jackpot now.
Then Quinn moved back up to Eli’s neck again, then down more slowly. The crisp curls on Quinn’s chest sensitized Eli’s skin everywhere, imprinting a memory of Quinn on every cell. It reminded Eli of the way science films about glaciers had always scared him. He knew the ice wasn’t like lava, too fast to outrun, but the illustrations showed them going fast. The idea of that inexorable strength carving deep into the earth had always made Eli uncomfortable, like wondering who authorized these changes that were going to affect all those species.
Quinn was relentlessly gentle, tongue dipping into the crack of Eli’s ass, a flick at the top before he shoved Eli’s legs apart with his shoulders. When he started, Eli wanted to categorize all the feelings, the scrape of his stubble, tongue sharp or flat and the wet insistent softness of it. Mostly he knew he was whimpering and whining, struggling to climb down onto Quinn’s face for more sensation—more, more, God, please, more—but Quinn’s shoulders kept Eli in place.
Eli started working for a little friction on his dick from the sheets, not in that you can’t control me rebellion of his first night here, but because Quinn was rubbing his thumb along the smooth, thin skin between Eli’s hole and his balls. It was like Quinn had found a way to rub the gland from the outside, and the flick and jab of wet and hot on Eli’s hole was almost enough but not quite. There were all these feelings inside, in his body and his heart and his head, and they kept building, and as urgent as Quinn’s touch felt he was still too tender, and Eli was going to explode.
He started shaking with it, and Quinn lifted his head to whisper, “Relax. Let me make you feel good.”
Eli stopped trying to tear his hands through the sheets, stopped trying to move and let it fill him. He wasn’t scared this time. This was a flip side of the Daddy-dynamic they’d played with, and it was safe and good to let Quinn push these feelings in him. Eli wanted it to go on forever, but the need to come built again, sharp and inescapable, and he rolled his head on the sheets whispering, “Fuck me, please, Quinn, fuck me.”
The lubed finger was cool, so different from the sensation of spit and tongue, but Eli had been waiting so long he relaxed into it, though Quinn kept the strokes short and angled up, away from the kind of pressure that would send Eli over the edge. He lay there waiting, listening to the tear of the condom packet, and he wanted to show Quinn that Eli knew this was different, that this wasn’t any fuck, that he trusted Quinn.
He’d caught his breath while Quinn wasn’t touching him. “If you want to skip that, I mean if you know you’re negative—”
“Don’t.” Quinn’s weight pinned him flat against the mattress. “Don’t you ever take those kinds of risks, and don’t ask me to make those decisions when my cock’s an inch from your ass.”
His dick slid between Eli’s thighs, and Eli knew the condom was on. He might not be able to tell the difference once they got going, but his skin told him that was latex.
“Okay,” Eli grunted. Quinn was probably right, but—Quinn pushed inside while Eli’s legs were pressed together, when Eli couldn’t push up on his knees and control the angle and speed, and it hurt for a second, not the screaming pinch of muscles not relaxed enough, but too big, too much, too tight like this.
He buried his groan in a mouthful of sheet and then bit down as Quinn fucked him like that, inescapable friction and fullness, Quinn dictating the angle, every feeling. It made Eli feel crazy, like he’d really given up control of his body, and that was okay again, because it was Quinn.
He didn’t know how long Quinn pounded into him like that, only that Eli couldn’t tell where the sensations started, his ass, his balls, his gland, his dick. Everything was so primed to go that when Quinn scooped him up around the waist whispering, “Ready?” Eli could have cried with the idea of release.
Quinn pulled them onto their sides, his lubed hand working Eli’s cock a little too slowly, like Quinn needed to catch back up after the shift in position. Quinn’s body held him tightly, a hard sure promise to lean on while his hand sped up on Eli’s dick. Quinn was whispering in his ear, as much a kiss and a breath as actual words. “Yeah, honey. Want to watch you come. Do it for me.”
When it hit, the contractions went on and on, a burst that never seemed to want to slow down, like he could never empty his balls until he turned inside out. Perfect, kill-me-right-now ecstasy in every nerve of his body.
Quinn must have been coming too, because his hand was tight around Eli’s cock and his voice turned into hoarse wordless sounds against Eli’s wet skin, his hipbones jerking against Eli’s ass.
Quinn rolled away for a second but was back before Eli’s skin could start to cool, wrapping him up in a tangle of sweaty arms and legs.
As Eli drifted in a post-come, almost-asleep haze, he decided a glacier would meet its match in Mount Quinn. No matter what kind of storm Eli threw at him, Quinn was solid enough to wait him out.
Chapter Fifteen
Like the mountain Eli sometimes thought of him as, Quinn wasn’t particularly subtle. But that was okay, because Eli wasn’t either. On Monday, Eli made two trips down to the apartment to rescue clothes in his laundry bag and backpack. He didn’t have any furniture apart from the mattress on the floor and a lamp that was enough of a fire hazard that he was glad to leave it behind. The only reason he had so many clothes was that he’d lived in that apartment longer than any place else since the breeders had kicked him out. He already had his phone and his camera.
On the second trip on Monday, a cute gym bunny on the bus cruised him all the way up to Park Heights Avenue. Eli pretended not to notice. It wasn’t too hard sticking to one flavor of man when that flavor was Quinn.
He put the stuff in the spare room Quinn had upstairs, but he had to be aware of the appearance of more and more clothes around the bedroom they were sharing. Eli could
n’t miss the appearance of local college brochures either, brochures that had really crappy photos on them. He wasn’t thinking about going back to school, but maybe they’d give him a little cash if he took some pictures that made the campus look like someplace rational people would be willing to send their kids—and that rational kids born in the nineties would consider attending.
He was flicking through some digital images on Quinn’s very nice laptop when his phone rang with Nate’s ringtone.
“If you’re not too busy playing naughty nursing-home aid with the old man, I’ve got something for you down at the office.”
“A job?” Pointing out that Nate was only five years younger than Quinn wouldn’t do anything but encourage him.
“Better. Money. The check from the article on the summer homeless we sold to Time finally showed up. Your share is twelve hundred.”
Twelve hundred dollars. Eli knew what the contract had said, but it had taken so long for all the accounting to go through, Eli had stopped waiting for it. He could have made rent after all—last month’s too.
“I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”
A week later, Eli was still staring at the check. The check that had come with a letter from the editor, from the fucking editor of Time, saying he’d be interested in considering other pieces of Eli’s work. And if that wasn’t enough to convince Eli that if nothing else he’d be able to pay his cell phone bills for a year, he got a return email from the PR guy at the local college. The first one Eli had contacted, because based on the brochure the place had been marketing itself as a teen convent. The email was an offer of thirty dollars each for five of his photos. Where the fuck were all these offers the last miserable five months of his life?
Over thirteen hundred wasn’t really anything to wave around, but it beat his previous checking balance of twenty-eight dollars—and that was only because a careful search of Quinn’s couch cushions had turned up enough bus fare to save Eli from having to make a trip to the bank. The ATM wouldn’t give him cash anymore.
Quinn had said he’d be home late, so Eli spent the rest of the afternoon window-shopping online. Not that he was able to buy anything—like a scooter that would make it so much easier to get downtown than the long walk and really long bus ride—but independent transportation didn’t seem that far away anymore.
Quinn had put this off too long. Not that he needed closure. Watching Peter put the ring on Chrissy’s finger had been closure enough. Quinn knew Eli had been right about Peter cheating. He’d tried to forget about it, knew he didn’t owe either of them anything, but the very real threat of Peter passing something like HIV to his unsuspecting wife—who could pass it to the baby—stirred some obligation to at least tell Peter the game was over.
It wasn’t hard to find a time when Peter would be home alone. If it was possible, Claire would have the calendar of everyone she knew merged on her Facebook page so she could keep tabs on her kingdom. Peter wasn’t working, Chrissy and Gabe were at Mommy and Me Yoga.
Quinn found Peter on a ladder in the back, stapling plastic sheeting over the screened-in deck to winter-proof it.
“Hold that for me.” Peter pointed with the staple gun at the side edge where the plastic was trying to twist. No hi, no what are you doing here. Like Quinn was still an everyday part of Peter’s life. How had Quinn let this happen?
“No. Get off the ladder.”
“What the fuck, Quinn? I’m busy.”
He was only up three feet. Quinn kicked a rung. “Get down.”
“You’re fucking nuts.” Peter climbed down. “What’s going on?” He threw the staple gun on the roll of plastic and ran a hand through his hair. “This is because of that kid you’re fucking. He told you some bullshit about me and you actually believe him.”
“Christ, Peter, why would you even think that if it wasn’t true? How the fuck do you manage to fool everyone when you’re such a moron?”
Peter kicked the plastic down the slope of the yard then stood facing away for a few minutes. When he spoke, his voice was flat. “Come into the house.”
Quinn ignored Peter’s effort to move them to the living room and stood in the kitchen while Peter paced around.
“This isn’t easy. Don’t fucking think I’ve got it easy,” Peter burst out.
Quinn folded his arms and leaned back against the counter.
“I was jealous, okay? At first I thought it had to be some kind of joke, but then when I saw you with him here—I thought if I pissed him off or put him off you, I wouldn’t have to see that anymore.”
“You think watching you get married was easy? Lying all this time?” Damn, Peter was too good at twisting things around. This wasn’t about what Peter had done to him, it was about what he was doing to risk the health and safety of his wife and baby. “Besides your bullshit excuse only works if you hadn’t been slutting around Grand Central. Christ, you pretended all those years to not even know where the bars were. Swore you’d never set foot in one.”
Peter came to a stop in front of him and grabbed on to Quinn’s arms so suddenly he didn’t try to stop him. “Because I miss you. I didn’t think—” Peter swallowed hard. “I thought if I did it right, had a family I wouldn’t still—”
“Be gay?”
“I’m not gay.” Peter’s fingers dug in tighter. Quinn didn’t move. “I like sex with guys sometimes. But you—it wasn’t—” Peter released his grip and walked away.
Quinn watched in silence. His chest was empty. Even pity felt a long way away.
“I’m not a total bastard. I know I’ve fucked everything up. There’s got to be a way to work this out.”
“What? Have your cake and eat it too? Live with your wife and child and come see me when you need a little something extra?”
The sudden look of hope on Peter’s face made Quinn laugh. “No. Never. Not the slightest bit interested.”
“Because of that piece of ass you picked up? Are you thinking of going straight? God, he’s practically a girl, Quinn.”
“Not at all. He’s all man.” Quinn smiled.
“You’d be a bitch for something like that?”
Quinn pushed away from the counter and shoved Peter into the table. “Call him a thing again and I will punch the words out of your mouth along with your teeth. Is that really what you thought of what we did? Being a bitch for each other?”
“No.” Peter tried a smile. It made Quinn’s skin crawl. “Can’t you see how jealous I am? Doesn’t that prove how much I miss you?”
“I don’t care what you prove, Peter. And I don’t care how much of a whore you want to be to prove how not gay you are. But it’s not just you. It’s Gabe. I made a promise to God and that child and it wasn’t only to see him confirmed.”
“What does this have to do with Gabe?”
“Besides the possibility of having divorced parents? Trust me, I see what parents can do to a kid. But if you pick up the wrong guy and pass HIV on to Chrissy, she could pass it to Gabe—or the next kid.”
“I’m not stupid enough to take that kind of risk.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you?”
“It wouldn’t even be an issue if you’d—”
“If I’d go back to fucking you instead? Do you even hear yourself?” This was too much. Quinn started for the door.
“Quinn. Please.” Peter’s voice held more emotion than at anytime Quinn could remember since he’d met him. A raw desperation on the edge of tears. Grabbing Quinn’s arm, Peter blurted, “I miss you. I want—”
Before Quinn could shake him off, Peter pulled him in tight and kissed him. Quinn let him. Maybe he was curious, or maybe he was the one with something to prove. It was like kissing a piece of bread. Nothing. Not even an unwanted spark of desire.
“Don’t you feel anything?”
Quinn shook his head. He felt something all right. But it had nothing to do with Peter.
“Because of him?”
“Because this is over, Peter. It’s been over.
You’re Dennis’s brother, the father of my godson, but that’s it. Those are the reasons I’m bothering to tell you to get your head out of your ass before you lose what you do have.”
Quinn should have done that months ago. He stretched his neck, free of a tension he knew he’d been carrying for years. Not only was he done with that bastard, but he’d moved on to someone better. Nothing he’d ever felt when he kissed Peter could compare to what happened when he watched Eli smile. When he wondered what comments Eli would be making about some TV show, or something in the paper. Every time Quinn thought he’d figured Eli out, he’d surprise him. Quinn loved that about him. Loved him.
Quinn was in love with Eli.
Eli, the man who’d just made himself at home in Quinn’s life, taking over the bottom drawer and the back of the closet. Quinn wasn’t sure he was supposed to notice. It wasn’t a problem. Simply one of Eli’s survival skills.
Quinn’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. So what did that mean for a guy who’d fallen for Eli? Quinn couldn’t blame Eli for being good at staying off the streets, but had Quinn put himself in the same situation he’d had with Peter? Peter had used Quinn while planning the new direction in his life. It wasn’t that Quinn thought Eli would lie and cheat like Peter had. But Quinn didn’t want to be nothing more than a way station while Eli figured out the next stage of his life.
He couldn’t go through that again. He and Peter had never made any kind of formal commitment, never used words to describe what they were to each other. Quinn hadn’t thought I love yous were necessary. The fact that they’d decided to make a life together said it all. Except he had been making a life and Peter had been keeping his options open. Hell, Peter had been gone a long time before he’d packed a box.
Ready or not, Eli, you and I are putting words to this right now.
Bad Boyfriend Page 16