by Willa Okati
A love bite.
Quentin jerked back as if he’d been burned. “Who is Charles?” he asked through numb lips. “What is he to you?”
Melissa looked startled, then gave him a flat look. “What do you think? A woman has needs, Quentin. And, sadly, you’re not around to satisfy those needs. But he’s only a source of temporary relief.” Her teeth were sharp and white as she smiled. “We, on the other hand, are all but engaged. Isn’t that right?”
Quentin’s throat closed up on whatever he might have said. Instead, silently, he turned and began to pack his things back in their duffel.
Melissa sat up, brisk as an automaton in every movement as she swung her legs off the bed. “Quentin, be rational.”
Quentin continued to pack. His mind was racing and his mouth closed. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
“Quentin, if you walk out that door right now, I don’t expect to hear from you again. Are we clear? You and I will be finished if you leave me now. And then who will you have?”
Quentin coughed involuntarily, clearing his chest. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I don’t know. Goodbye, Melissa.”
* * * * *
Quentin unlocked the door to the faculty housing building in utter silence. He still had a lump in the back of his throat that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times he swallowed. His duffel hung heavy in his hands, feeling as if it contained much more than a few articles of clothing.
The apartment was quiet and, for the most part, dark. The students had cleared out. Cups still dotted every available surface, their condensation making rings on all the furniture. Quentin could see a wet patch on his beloved recliner. Smoke hung thick and heavy in the air.
He couldn’t bring himself to care.
Carefully shutting the door behind him, Quentin began to make his way toward his bedroom. He’d gotten halfway there when Billy appeared as if from nowhere, lounging against the frame of his bedroom door. He wore low-riding sleep pants in blue flannel and no shirt, the muscles in his chest both hard and rippling as he moved. “What, she didn’t want you to sleep over?” The words were taunting, but the voice kind. Sympathetic. “So you didn’t have a good time?”
Quentin hesitated, then shook his head. His fingers began to tremble.
“I didn’t think you would.” Billy reached for something just inside his door and came back with an unlit cigarette. He toyed thoughtfully with the white cylinder. “What happened?”
Quentin said nothing. His shoulders slumped a little as he quaked.
“Listen, man, it can’t be that bad. She didn’t kick you out, did she? Or did she? A lover’s spat gone bad?” Billy began to grin. “So you came back here to your quiet little room. Too bad I’m here, right? But then again, that’s me. Always in your way. You can’t get rid of me, Quinn.” Billy reached out with his free hand and laid it on Quentin’s chest. “I’m inside there, whether you want me to be or not. You didn’t come back because you had no place else to go. You came here for me.”
Quentin’s tremors became full-fledged shakes. His mouth went utterly dry. He swallowed hard, feeling himself half-choke. The duffel bag fell out of his nerveless fingers onto the floor.
Billy moved forward, dropping his cigarette. He cupped Quentin’s chin in one hand. Bright blue eyes gazed into his own as he tipped Quentin’s head up. “What did she do to you?” Billy asked softly.
It was one of the defining moments of his life. Voices screamed inside his head: no, yes, no, yes, no, yes… He was approaching a cliff, which once jumped off, he could never climb again.
God help him, though. He couldn’t seem to stop himself.
He didn’t want to turn away from this.
He wouldn’t—couldn’t—stop himself from being “Quinn” again.
Slowly, Quentin—no, Quinn—raised his hand to Billy’s shoulder. He placed the other one on Billy’s waist. The man’s skin was warm and seemed to welcome Quinn’s touch, as if Quinn were someone worth spending time on.
Shivering with emotions he couldn’t put a name to, his cock starting to fill, Quinn leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Billy’s, pleading with the man to accept, to understand and to forgive.
He hung there for what felt like forever before Billy’s arms encircled him and pulled him close. “I thought so,” Billy rumbled against Quinn’s lips. “You figured out where you belonged. Right here. With me.”
He kissed Quinn back, and time ceased to exist.
Chapter Eight
The short, narrow hallway was charged with an electricity that began at a low hum and kept building with every breath, every movement. Quinn clung to Billy, never wanting to let go. He knew he was probably hurting with the strength of his grip, but couldn’t stop himself from hanging on. What was this? Solace for one night? A headlong dive into some space of time where he didn’t have to think or worry? Or more?
The more Quinn wavered, the tighter he hung on.
“Hey. Hey, it’s okay. Calm down.” Billy withdrew from the kiss and began stroking Quinn’s arms, running from shoulder to wrist with the lightest of touches. “It’s not like I haven’t wanted you from the moment we met, but this isn’t a race. Chill.”
Quinn buried his face in the curve of Billy’s neck. A strange place to find himself in, but it felt like home. “No. I have to go ahead and do this. I need to…”
“Hush. Shh.” Billy carefully took Quinn’s hand in one of his own. “I’m getting the message.” He laid the other hand lightly over Quinn’s cock, the gentle pressure and heat of his palm sending Quinn into a new fit of shakes. “You finally realized what you wanted. Who you wanted. It’s cool. There’s time. We can take all night if you want.”
Quinn leaned into Billy’s solid warmth. His world was crumbling around him, and he needed an anchor. This man, the person who’d been driving him crazy for months, was something he could cling to, even though it meant fighting against everything that had been ingrained in his mind. But the denouncements were melting too quickly, like snow on a hot day. “Melissa…she’s been cheating on me,” he managed to say. “Someone named Charles. He’s married. But you knew that, didn’t you?”
“Not the details, not for sure. But I figured something was wrong. Hell, there couldn’t be much right with a woman like her. God, Quinn. She’s had you tied up in knots since you met, hasn’t she? Wrapped you around her little finger and kept you there. That’s why you’ve been so tense.” Billy reached around and began to stroke Quinn’s back. “C’mere. Inside my room, now.”
Quinn struggled with himself. A part of him, deep inside, was screaming at him to run, run, run. Another part had come alive at the thought of going into Billy’s private quarters.
Logic, he decided, had only caused him grief. It had frayed his nerves to the snapping point and won him a fiancée who didn’t think twice about cheating.
To hell with it all, everything, his past and his future. He’d follow his emotions for one night. Just one night. Depending on what happened, he’d deal with things when and as he had to.
Billy would understand.
Quinn brought one hand up to caress Billy’s cheek—asking, without words, for reassurance.
Billy leaned in to kiss Quinn again, brushing their lips together in no more than a passing touch. He tugged at Quinn’s wrist. “Come on. Follow me. No more wasting time.”
Quinn obeyed automatically. Step by step, he made his way into Billy’s room. In a vague sort of way, he noticed the small details—several ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts, ragged posters of screaming rockers on the walls, no lights on, and the mussed state of Billy’s sheets.
Oh, God, his bed.
Despite the flutter of panic, Quinn continued to move forward. He was used to taking orders. All the same, his heart still pounded raggedly as he walked into the small room. This was it. He was really about to pass the true point of no return. He shuddered again, coming to a stop halfway in. I can’t do this. But I need…I need…
/> “Quinn.” Billy had stopped too. He turned back to Quinn and raised a hand to cup his jaw. “It’s okay, man. I want you hard and fast. God damn, but I’ve dreamed about you in my bed. Still, it’s okay that you need a little time. I can be patient.”
Quinn laughed, a short bark of disbelief.
“There are hidden depths to me.” Billy grinned in his infectious, charming way. For the first time since they’d met, Quinn smiled back tremulously. “See? You’re better already. C’mon. Promise I won’t do anything until I get the all clear.”
Billy led Quinn forward. Quinn went without much external hesitation. Inside his mind, his thoughts were flapping around like a butterfly trapped in a bottle. It’s wrong. It’s wrong. It’s wrong.
God. Why does it feel so right?
What happens after we do this? Later tonight? Tomorrow?
I don’t really know what I’m doing, do I? But here I go…
“You’re thinking too hard. Makes my own brain hurt.” Billy reached the edge of his bed, broader and longer than Quinn’s, and eased Quinn down to a sitting position. “Scoot on in. Next to the wall.”
“My shoes?” was all Quinn could think to say.
“Yeah, messy. We can take those off.” Billy knelt and, with gentle hands, began to undo the laces of Quinn’s sneakers. “New, huh? Bet you wanted to impress Melissa with how sparkly white they are. But nothing impresses her, does it?”
Quinn shook his head mutely. “Probably should have worn dress shoes. She likes—liked things formal.”
Billy snorted, the sound worth a thousand words. He slid one sneaker off, and then the other, his hands nimble and light. He stroked Quinn’s sock feet, starting at the ankle and moving down to the arch. The sensation tickled, yet it sent a bolt of desire through Quinn. When was the last time someone had touched him as if they cared how he felt?
He couldn’t remember.
“Go on, lie down,” Billy urged. “Get comfortable. Neither of us is going anywhere. Unless you mind the smoke?”
The air was thick, redolent with the remains of cigarette fumes, but Quinn didn’t mind. The place smelled like Billy. He slowly lowered himself onto his side, then scooted back until his shoulders touched the wall.
Watching, he took in the sight of Billy carefully easing into place just opposite himself. As Billy leaned his head against the pillow, the dim light from outside struck the red tips of his hair and made them gleam.
Billy grinned, his face a half-mask in the shadows, but oddly reassuring. “See? We’re in the same bed and you haven’t been struck down by lightning yet.”
“It’s—it’s wrong,” Quinn managed, not sure why he was protesting.
“Yeah? Says who? Some people who messed with your head?”
“How—how did you know?”
“Educated guess. They were the ones who were wrong, Quinn. It’s okay, I swear. Something that feels so damn good can’t be bad. It’s lying to yourself that’s wrong.” Billy began to touch Quinn again, light and gentle as a man could, running his hands over Quinn’s chest. “Come here.”
Quinn shifted closer, uncertain as to what he should do.
“Yeah, it’s been a while, huh? Look. Lift your head and let me get my arm under there. You can rest on my shoulder.” As Quinn moved into position, Billy pressed a hard kiss to the top of Quinn’s head. “Just lie still for a minute. Take some deep breaths. Swear to God I’m not going to hurt you.”
Quinn licked his suddenly dry lips and swallowed around a knot in his throat. “Do you promise?”
“Cross my heart.” Billy began to rock Quinn, a lazy movement, like he could take all night doing nothing else. Holding Quinn as if he understood. Really understood. “Trust me, man. Have some faith.”
“I can feel you,” Quinn whispered. “You’re hard.”
Billy chuckled. “Yeah. You kind of have that effect on me. The first time I saw you, I got hard. You know, I suspected you were gay and repressing—there’s a vibe, right? Figured I wasn’t going to get anywhere with you, though, at least not at first. But guess what? I kept on waiting. It’s been a couple of months. I can keep it in my pants until you stop shaking.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to.” Shaking. God, I’m still trembling like a heroine with the vapors. When will this settle down? I’ve jumped in with both feet. I shouldn’t be afraid of falling anymore.
“Shut it.” Billy kissed Quinn’s forehead. “No apologies. Nothing until you’re ready for it. Just let me be here for you.” He continued rocking Quinn, each slow to-and-fro motion soothing his jangled nerves.
“Thank you,” Quinn breathed. He would have gone on to thank Billy for everything he was doing, but got the feeling Billy understood without his having to say the words.
Softly, Billy began to sing. Some quiet tune that should have had a slow, sweet guitar accompanying it.
Quinn let out a long breath as he recognized the song. “‘Because the Night’. I heard Natalie Merchant sing it once on Unplugged. I used to like her back then.”
“Oh, yeah. Damn good lyrics.” Billy went on singing about desire, hunger and feasts of love. He stayed on key, half-singing and half-humming, each note thrumming into Quinn’s bones. Impulsively, Quinn began to accompany Billy, his breath coming in quick jerks yet still managing to keep the tune.
Billy chuckled. “You know the words, I bet. ‘Take my hand, and you’ll understand.’”
Quinn reached for Billy’s hand and clasped it. The man’s skin was warm and dry, his palm broad and solid. He hung on as Billy said in his husky, cigarette voice, “They can’t hurt you now. You know that, right?”
“The night belongs to lovers,” Quinn whispered. “Does the night belong to us?”
“Damn right.” Billy pressed his lips to Quinn’s. Quinn felt Billy’s tongue flicker out, not insistently, but as if to see if he were ready. Quinn gave one last tremor, then cautiously opened his mouth. The small groan Billy gave as he slid his tongue inside Quinn’s mouth sent shock waves of desire through Quinn’s body, bringing back all the old memories and a tide of pleasure.
Quinn surrendered himself to the kiss. Billy was gentle, stroking his tongue against Quinn’s, not demanding anything that Quinn wasn’t willing to give—but Quinn remembered how to do this. He twined his own tongue around Billy’s, tugging slightly. The small, surprised noise Billy gave almost made Quinn laugh.
God, how long had it been since he’d been amused in bed?
Slowly, Quinn worked his hand down between their bodies. He ran his fingers across the hard planes of Billy’s stomach, and then tugged at the waistband of the man’s sleep pants.
“Stop.” Billy pulled away from the kiss. “Jesus, Quinn.” He gave a ragged breath. “I’m trying to give you time here, man.”
Quinn shook his head. “I don’t need time. I need you. Like water, like breath, like rain. LeAnn Rimes.”
“Turning the songs around on me, huh? Who knew you were a country fan?” Billy moved closer to Quinn, his warmth at once frightening and so very welcome. “There’s a lot about you I don’t know. But you’re going to give me the chance to find out.”
Quinn nodded slowly. “Tonight,” he said, not trusting himself to anything more. “Tonight.”
Billy kissed him again, long, lingering and sweet, but growing hungry. “God, you taste good. Go on and touch me. I know you want to. I don’t bite. Not unless someone asks me to.”
Quinn took a deep breath. He pulled at Billy’s waistband, but instead of dipping his hand inside, he laid it on the outside, feeling the man’s cock hard and ready through his pants. The sensation almost made him dizzy. It’d been so long since he’d felt another dick in his palm, a steely column that he knew would have silk-soft skin and a core of pure iron. Billy inhaled appreciatively as Quinn cupped his cock, squeezing gently.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Keep on doing what you’re doing. No, wait.” He raised his hips and shimmied out of his sleep pants, pushing them down his thighs. “Now. Touch
me.”
Quinn licked his lips. He reached for Billy’s cock again, feeling a small hitch in his chest as he cupped the hardness of the man’s erection. His fingers began to travel, walking up the length, tracing thick veins. Billy was so beautiful naked, all his muscles set off by the dim glow of the lights.
How odd that the man should be wholly nude while he himself remained fully dressed. At first glance Quinn would appear to have the advantage, but he knew how well the tables were turned.
When Quinn reached the top of Billy’s prick, he found it to be slightly wet and sticky. Semen. No, come. Pre-come. “Is this for me?” he surprised himself by asking.
“This, and a dozen wet dreams’ worth.” Billy chuckled. “You’re doing great, Quinn. Keep going. Work me rougher.”
Quinn wrapped his hand around the breadth of Billy’s cock and squeezed. His eyes shut even tighter at the feel of the organ pulsing in his palm, so hard and alive, a separate being. He’d missed this, he realized, more than he’d known. More than he’d thought was possible. “So good,” he whispered. “You feel like…”
“Heaven, huh? But not too much more of that, or this’ll be over before it starts. No way it ends so fast. I’ve been dreaming about you for too long.” Billy pushed Quinn away. “Your hand is about to drive me crazy, you know that? So, stop before I come. I want to make sure you have a good time. Turn over and lie on your back.”
Quinn gave a ragged sigh and reluctantly let go of Billy’s cock. Obedient, he rolled over and lay facing the ceiling.
Billy’s face came into view. He pressed his lips against Quinn’s, and Quinn’s eyelids fluttered shut. “Keep them closed,” Billy directed. “Don’t look at anything. Just feel.”
Quinn did as he was told. What he felt, though, drew a vivid mental map. Billy kissed a trail down his chest, each touch of his lips burning like a brand even through his shirt. When he reached the waistband of Quinn’s trousers, Billy pulled the shirt out and nuzzled into the small arrow of hair leading down into his pants. “You smell good,” he whispered hoarsely.