When One Door Opens

by Ruskin, JD

  “Your uncle says he knows a behavioral therapist that’s willing to come to your apartment. I want you to agree to see her. And I want us to keep trying to go out like we did before.”

  Caleb paused, waiting for more demands. “That’s it? I just have to try to get help?” He shook his head. “That’s not fair to you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Caleb stood and started pacing in front of the couch. “Meaning if it doesn’t work you’ll settle for conjugal visits instead of the normal couple things like going out or having me at your place sometimes.”

  Rising to his feet, Logan said, “You honestly think you’re not good enough for an ex-drunk ex-con package handler?”

  Caleb felt his face tighten. “You’re more than that, but there’s no way it can work.”

  Logan studied him for a moment before moving forward. Caleb felt his heart rate climb with each step Logan took toward him. He retreated until he ran out of space, his back touching the wall. Raising his hands, he tried to stop Logan’s approach right there, at an arm’s length.

  With a firm but gentle touch, Logan moved Caleb’s arms to his sides—being especially careful of the cast—and put his own hands against the wall on either side of Caleb’s head. Caleb’s breathing was coming fast and shallow. Logan moved closer until he stood within inches, crowding his personal space. “One, I wouldn’t let you walk in my neighborhood with an armed guard in tow.”

  His eyes locked on Logan because looking away was impossible. Caleb wanted him so much his chest ached, making a panic attack seem like heartburn in comparison. But what he wanted didn’t matter, because he couldn’t let himself be that selfish.

  Caleb held his breath. For a moment, he expected Logan to kiss him, but Logan turned his head to the side, and then it was cheek rubbing against cheek, the burning rasp of stubble moving back and forth. Logan froze in place with his mouth next to Caleb’s ear; his body so close Caleb could feel the heat radiating from him from head to toes. His voice sounded strained when he finally spoke again. “Two, I’m better off not going out to places I used to get shitfaced every night.”

  Logan pushed forward until they were plastered together; so near Caleb could feel Logan’s belt buckle against his stomach. “Three, we can find new places to go, because you will leave this apartment again.”

  Caleb let Logan’s words sink in, hearing his sincerity. He wanted to believe Logan was right. He had had some success, but the farthest he had managed alone was the fifth floor.

  “Let me help you, baby,” Logan said in a guttural whisper.

  “Will you talk to me if you’re struggling to stay sober?”

  In an instant, Logan’s body felt like granite, hard and unyielding. Confused by the reaction, Caleb explained, “I want you to be able to talk to me. I don’t want you to stay silent just because you think I can’t handle it.”

  The stiffness melted away as Logan let out a deep sigh. “We’ll help each other.”

  Stronger together. This time Logan let him push him back far enough for Caleb to tilt his head and draw up on his toes for a kiss. The first touch was short, light, and dry. Logan didn’t react at all, just stayed impossibly still. Caleb rested his forehead against his chest and breathed him in, savoring his spicy scent before releasing the breath again with a contented sigh.

  Logan made a strangled sound, and then there were hands cupping Caleb’s face, and lips descending on his, wet and warm and open. Logan’s tongue plunged into Caleb’s mouth, claiming, demanding, and Caleb gave back as good as he got. Logan tasted both sweet and bitter, and Caleb realized what it meant to crave, what addiction felt like.

  Drawing back, Logan said, “We’ll take it slow.”

  “You mean take the going out stuff slow, not the sex, right?” Caleb asked, his voice cracking like a teenager’s.

  “I was thinking thirty seconds until the sex stuff. That work for you?”

  “No,” Caleb said, grabbing the back of Logan’s neck and pulling his head down. “Can’t wait that long.” He pressed his mouth against Logan’s, softening his lips after a moment and tickling Logan’s lips with his tongue. Logan opened his mouth as if to retort and Caleb pressed the advantage, slipping his tongue between Logan’s lips as he stroked the spiky hairs at the back of his neck.

  After the kiss ended, Logan buried his face against Caleb’s throat, nibbling at the curve of his neck. He smoothed his hands down Caleb’s sides, over his hips, and settled on his ass.

  Logan lifted Caleb until he had virtually no choice but to wrap his legs around Logan and hold on.

  He barely prevented his cast from smacking Logan in the back of the head. “We need to talk about your habit of hauling me around like a rag doll.”

  “Later, munchkin.” Logan swallowed Caleb’s squawk of protest.

  Logan carried Caleb into the bedroom and lowered him to the bed slowly as if he weighed no more than the packages he spent hours hauling around. “Now you’re just showing off,” Caleb griped, before tilting his face for another kiss.

  Logan stood upright and toed off his shoes. “I need the workout. Your cooking’s making me fat,” he said, lifting his shirt and revealing rippling abs and not an ounce of excess on his sculpted chest.

  Absolute perfection. The thought threw Caleb out of the mood, his self-consciousness rearing its ugly head. What if he’s disappointed in me? What if—With a force of will, Caleb halted the thought. He closed his eyes tightly and pressed his fingers against them so hard that he saw swirling shapes dance on the back of his eyelids. He begged, “Not now, not now,” as if he could bargain with the growing monster of fear lurking in his belly. He inhaled deeply, trying to even out his breathing without hyperventilating. He had only been on Xanax for a week, and he knew the anti-anxiety meds were helping, but not quickly enough to save him from this humiliation.

  “Hey,” Logan said, sitting on the bed and putting his arm around Caleb’s shoulder. “Open your eyes.”

  Logan’s deep-timbred voice stabbed through him like a physical blow, and he couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath. He desperately wanted to see Logan’s reaction and was terrified at the same time. Would he be horrified and disgusted? Or would his dark eyes be filled with pity? Caleb wasn’t sure which would be more horrible.

  A gentle brush of fingers on the side of his face broke his indecision and forced him to open his eyes. He tried to swallow the emotion forcing its way up his throat and was surprised it didn’t simply burn straight through his esophagus. Caleb buried his head against Logan’s chest, feeling the crisp hair brush against his forehead with each breath. “I’m such a freak.”

  “You really are,” Logan said, kissing the top of Caleb’s head.

  Caleb pinched a pert nipple in retaliation and grinned when Logan squealed like a pig. He felt the adrenaline slipping away, and his breathing returned to normal. Logan didn’t ask if he was all right. Didn’t make him explain the swirling feelings battling in his head: lust and fear and affection all tangled together. Tilting Caleb’s head back, Logan just looked at him, letting every ounce of his caring and desire shine through. Caleb was breathless again but for a much better reason. Fingers curled in his hair, holding him in place as Logan consumed him with his mouth. Their tongues tangled together in wet heat.

  Logan broke off the passionate kiss to begin lavishing Caleb’s neck with his tongue and biting lightly. “Shirt off,” he ordered, pulling it up at the collar and making Caleb feel like a kid getting help being undressed when he gently eased the sleeve over the cast.

  Caleb lay back on the bed and resisted the urge to squirm under Logan’s intense gaze. Logan lightly fingered the fading purple and yellow bruises on his chest, a frown on his face, as if disappointed they didn’t disappear when he touched them. He kissed a nasty contusion on his pectoral, and Caleb had the dual urge to roll his eyes and gush at the sweetness. He felt warm and gooey like a fresh chocolate-chip cookie and ridiculously cherished.

  Caleb traced
a hand over Logan’s bristled head, feeling the dents and grooves. Pushing up with his elbows, he kissed Logan’s forehead and asked, “How many beanstalks have you tumbled off of?”

  Logan snorted in response and began to move, using his tongue and fingers to torment Caleb. Caleb groaned when he started working his nipples, softly nibbling, fingers running down his sides. Logan drifted lower, kissing, licking, his breath heating Caleb’s skin as he moved downward. Then, Caleb nearly knocked himself silly when he raised his arms to clench the bars of the headboard and smacked his cast against his forehead. Ow. Thankfully, Logan was too busy spreading Caleb’s thighs and settling between them to notice him being such a klutz.

  When Logan mouthed Caleb’s crotch through his sweatpants, Caleb made an embarrassing whimper and he swore he could feel Logan’s smug smile against his dick. The bastard. Then Logan really got going; he lavished the cloth with his tongue, applying heat and wetness and pressure. But not nearly enough.

  “We’ll need a lint roller for your tongue if you keep that up.”

  “You’re the one who gave me a sweatpants fetish.”

  “I’m not in the least bit sorry,” Caleb countered, and they both laughed. Logan slid his hands under Caleb’s ass and massaged the globes, kneading the muscle with his large hands. One finger slid between his cheeks, and Caleb groaned when the knuckle pushed against his rim. Logan finally moved to pull the sweatpants off and to slide back up the bed. Pushing himself up awkwardly, Caleb reached for Logan’s jeans, popping the button and unzipping the fly. He palmed Logan’s package and they shared another kiss.

  Logan rolled sideways and took off the jeans with more grace than Caleb could ever hope to accomplish with two working arms. He then turned Caleb on his side, reaching forward to put a pillow under Caleb’s cast. Logan spooned behind him, chest hard against Caleb’s back as they shared a pillow. He bent his head to nibble Caleb’s ear and whispered, “Tell me what you want.”

  Caleb licked his lips. He’d only had sex with a guy a handful of times during college. The panic attacks made the idea of starting a new relationship seem impossible. Until Logan. “Min snuck a box of condoms in with the lube.” He felt Logan’s grin against the side of his neck. After getting the required items from the nightstand, Logan got back into position. Caleb shivered as calloused hands brushed over his hips. Logan rocked forward, pushing his wet-tipped cock against his ass. Caleb moaned as Logan slipped a finger into his cleft and began circling his perineum in a maddening light touch.

  Caleb heard the snap of the lubricant and then Logan pushed a finger inside, stretching his hole. He began to wriggle and to squirm and then gasped as a second finger worked him. Logan’s chest hair brushed against Caleb’s back, sending a shiver through his whole body. Leaning his head back against Logan, he groaned long and deep as Logan’s fingers brushed over his prostate.

  Pulling back Logan said, “Tell me if it hurts,” a slight tremor in his voice.

  Caleb nodded, his voice abandoning him.

  Spooning behind him, Logan encouraged Caleb to lift his top leg, bending at the knee to give more room to maneuver. Caleb heard the crinkle of the condom wrapper and then Logan pried open his cheeks, inserting the tip of his cock into Caleb’s ass. He breathed deeply at the burn, as his body instinctively clenched around the intruder. It had been a lot longer than he was willing to admit since he had done this.

  Logan kissed Caleb’s neck. He then backed out, eased gently back and forth, and slowly pressed it in further over and over again until he was all the way inside. Sweat dripped from Caleb’s hairline onto his forehead as the pressure of being filled increased.

  “God, Caleb.” Logan didn’t move, but there was something in his voice, something that made Caleb’s chest ache. It was desperation and need and maybe something like relief.

  Angling his neck backward in a way he would pay for later, he captured Logan’s lips in a hard, possessive kiss. Logan slid his tongue across his own, curling and teasing until Caleb couldn’t help whimpering. The sound seemed to propel Logan into action. He broke the kiss and pulled back his hips.

  Caleb turned back and clutched the pillow in a tight grasp as Logan began pivoting into him, each thrust harder and faster as the bed squeaked in protest. He would have more bruises on his hips from Logan’s tight grip, but he didn’t give a damn. The idea of Logan leaving his mark on his skin thrilled Caleb. The only other sounds in the room were their heavy breathing, the occasional groan, and the noise made from slapping flesh.

  Caleb could feel each groove and notch that ran the length of Logan’s cock as it unmercifully plunged in and out of his ass. His muscles were locking together, becoming rigid as his release loomed near. Angling his arm, he tried to take hold of his cock, smacking the hard plaster against his leg and hip. He looked at the cast in frustration, needing more friction.

  Seeming to sense his thoughts, Logan said, “Let me.” His hot breath sent shivers down Caleb’s body. “Before you knock me out and have to get yourself off.” Almost too quiet for Caleb to hear, he added, “I’d want to be conscious to see that.” He leaned over further, his body nearly covering him. Caleb closed his eyes soaking in the heat from Logan’s body and his musky scent.

  Logan’s strong hands worked Caleb’s dick in tandem with his pivoting hips. They moved together higher and higher and Caleb cried out wordlessly. His heart thumped, thumped to the rhythm of the thrusts as if Logan’s cock controlled its beat. Harsh breaths disturbed the hairs at the back of his head, sweat dripped down the nape of his neck.

  Caleb’s balls tightened against his body as Logan alternately drove inside him and stroked his cock again and again. Within seconds, he was coming in Logan’s hand. A few strokes later, Logan was right behind him, muffling his moan against the flesh of Caleb’s neck.

  Later, sprawled on his stomach, Caleb hugged a pillow, burying his face in the soft down. He felt liquid and sated. Turning his head on the pillow, he glanced at Logan, who looked equally boneless, before burying his head in the softness once again.

  They slept then. Caleb didn’t know how long. When he woke, Logan was still there, pressed against him. Logan’s forearm clutched Caleb’s stomach, his muscles strangely tense. Wiggling under the tight grip, Caleb turned to face him. He ran a hand over Logan’s bristled jaw, looking into his dark eyes. “Are you okay?” A burst of fear drove away his drowsiness. Was Logan having second thoughts?

  “We should probably talk,” Logan, said, not sounding happy about it. “Since I didn’t intend to just pounce on ya.”

  “Are you saying you regret this?”

  “Hell no, but we talked about your recovery and not mine.”

  Suddenly wide-awake, Caleb said, “Oh, God. You didn’t….” He couldn’t finish the sentence. The fear that had been lurking unacknowledged took hold of him, and his breath seemed to solidify in his throat.

  After an eternity, Logan said, “I thought about it, wanted the numbness it would bring.”

  Caleb closed his eyes against the maelstrom of emotion and memories swamping him. His mother’s eyes as she lay dying and the anguish in his uncle’s voice when they realized she was gone. He took several deep breaths until he thought he could speak again. “I don’t want to be responsible for you relapsing. I’d never be able to forgive myself.”

  Logan was quiet for several long moments. “It don’t work that way. There are always gonna be reasons to drink again.” He rolled on top of Caleb and traced a hand over his cheek. “And damn few reasons not to.”

  Hope. It seemed like a lifetime since he had let himself really feel it. Could they be each other’s second chance? Was it worth the risk? Logan had so much more to lose than himself. If fear seized control and caused him to push Logan away, would Logan seek oblivion in a bottle? His earlier words to Dabb circled through his head. I refuse to be afraid Logan might slip back into bad habits. He’s earned the right for a second chance.

  A muscle quivered in Logan’s jaw. “But I need to k
now that you’ll walk away if things get bad and I stop trying to stay sober.”

  Caleb bit his bottom lip to resist offering reassurances that it would never come to that point. Logan needed him to give him one more reason to resist the temptation of oblivion. Without consequences, there was no motivation to change. It was a lesson Caleb had learned the hard way. “You know what my uncle told me today? He gave me the money to start my business expecting me to fail. Once I was bankrupt, he could try again to convince me to accept a voluntary commitment at a treatment center.”

  Logan sucked in a sharp breath. “He wanted to send you to a fucking loony bin?”

  “Treatment center,” Caleb said, making air quotes. “I understand why he did it. If the business had failed, I might not have spent the last three years hiding in my apartment.”

  Logan stared at the cast, his fingers moving gently over the hard plaster. “Tell me about the panic attack.”

  Caleb sighed. “I jumped in the shower and then I started thinking about how you’d be showing up in a short time. I started to worry that you’d regret it or it would be really awkward. The thoughts are less important than the chain reaction they started. I’d gotten what I wanted and that scared the shit out of me.”

  Moving down, Logan buried his head against Caleb’s stomach. “What happened after?”

  Caleb wasn’t sure how much to tell Logan. He wanted to be honest, but his memory was a lot fuzzier than he liked to admit, a blur of pain and irrational thoughts. “Post panic is almost worse. I’ll endure anything to avoid letting the panic take me again. In the middle of an attack, I feel like I’m dying, but afterward, I would rather die than let the fear grip me again. It makes no sense.”

  “Jesus, baby,” Logan said, sounding hoarse. “Fucking duct tape.” He wrapped his arms around Caleb’s midriff with bruising force.

  Suppressing the squeak that wanted to escape, Caleb cupped the back of Logan’s neck, ignoring the hot wetness sliding down his side. It was one of the things he hated most about the fear, the way it could twist his brain into accepting the ridiculous just to avoid another attack. That he actually managed to convince himself the pain in his head and wrist was better than risking another panic attack. Logan pressed his cheek deeper into Caleb’s stomach as if he had heard the thoughts. Caleb rubbed the back of Logan’s neck, wanting to comfort him but not knowing how.