by E. Davies
“I don’t want to count on anyone,” Kev shook his head. “But I’ve learned to. The alternative is miserable. We need each other, as people.”
I frowned. “A relationship based on need isn’t healthy.”
“No, not if it’s codependent,” Kev agreed. “But isn’t that what most marriages are? It’s an arrangement set up because you each need something from the other person. Different things or the same thing.”
I nodded slowly. I’d never been terribly romantic compared to Hugh. “But there’s more, too.”
“Oh, sure,” Kev agreed. “But romance comes and goes.”
“Do you believe in true love?” I wasn’t even sure what I was asking now. I wasn’t examining it or planning ahead of time. It was just spontaneous conversation, and the intimacy drew me in like the candle on the table that I kept fidgeting with.
I didn’t expect him to lean back and fold his arms, examining me like he was deciding whether to trust me. I held my breath like I was trying not to startle a fawn.
“I don’t know how I feel about that question. I’ll be right back.” He excused himself for the bathroom, and I was left staring at him, biting my thumbnail.
Fuck. Had I just pissed him off? All I could do was wait in silence until I found out.
14
Kev
I patted my cheeks with cool water and stared in the mirror for a minute, listening for the sound of footsteps approaching the bathroom. That was the definition of gay problems: worrying that your date would interrupt your moment of simultaneous vanity and self-reflection.
On the other hand, going to the bathroom with another guy meant you could sneak a kiss or a glimpse, although I had the feeling Charlie was way too sheltered for that.
I smiled as I dried my hands and pushed them through my hair to rearrange it just so. Now that I’d texted Adam to let him know I was alive and might or might not be home tonight—not a full watermelon, but just a strawberry—I had to figure out where the hell this was going.
I could walk out there and cool things down, treat him like a buddy, and try to make friends. But what would be the fun in that?
I wanted him. I knew that much. I wasn’t entirely sure why, except that I was horny and he was hot, and I knew damn well there was more behind my attraction that I was trying to avoid. It was way too quick to know if I liked the guy as more than a friend, wasn’t it?
I’d heard a lot about my clients’ lives. Many of them had fallen in love just as quickly, and that had led to happy marriages. What made it work was the determination to work things out and talk instead of trying to inflict hurt when you felt hurt. Whatever people told me about their lives, I took in and arranged in my head, adding to my mental database of the world. Without many people to give me guidance, it was what I had to do.
What would Josh and Evan say?
I knew that much already. I’d triggered jealousy when I’d come to the farm just as they were figuring their relationship out. Maybe I needed to get him jealous… but no, that was just playing games. What had worked for all of their friends? From the sounds of it, just talking things out.
Okay. I’d tell him I liked him.
I marched back out to the restaurant and sat down, my head spinning already. “I don’t believe in true love, but I want to. But I don’t want it to be with some guy who goes I can replace your job, so stop being slutty and independent and then I’ll respect you, because I’m sick of that. Pretty Woman is bullshit, and I want to make my own way in the world, but I don’t want to be alone.”
Charlie stared at me for a few moments and then laughed. “I was worried you’d forgotten the question. Wow. Okay.” He leaned back slowly and then smiled. “Do you want to talk about this over coffee at my place?”
“Hell, yeah.” I drew a breath and let it out to get the nerve to say it. “Especially if coffee is a euphemism.”
The excited grin that flitted across Charlie’s face was adorable. Then it was replaced with a familiar nervous expression. “I’m probably the worst you’ll have had in a while.”
“I doubt that,” I teased and leaned in. “You care about me, right? As a friend, or whatever?” There was a lot contained in that whatever, but I didn’t want to scare him off yet by suggesting romance was blossoming. That wasn’t supposed to be the deal between us.
Charlie paused, and he seemed almost surprised by himself when he nodded. “I… do. Why?”
“Then you’ll be better in bed than a lot of guys, whether or not you bring my work into it. And I like you,” I told him. “You should know that.”
Charlie went pale for a moment and opened his mouth, not saying anything for a few long moments. Shit. I started to fear I’d said the wrong thing, but before I could try to smooth that out, he nodded. “That’s… flattering, but then there’s my baggage, and…” He frowned and looked around at the waiter who was nearby and clearly trying not to listen in on the date. “I definitely feel like we should bring this conversation somewhere more private.”
“Back to your place,” I agreed.
Although I tried to split the check, he wouldn’t let me. It set my teeth on edge a bit—like I owed him—but I knew him better now. He wouldn’t think I owed him, right? I had to trust that.
At least I booked the Uber, which also gave me a trip history and address in case anything went wrong. It was a safety precaution I hoped not to have to take anymore.
“Five minutes,” I told him as I scanned the info of the Uber on its way. “A nondescript black car, of course.”
He chuckled and put his arm around my waist as we stood outside the restaurant. “Still easier than hailing a cab.”
“I’ve never managed to,” I admitted, blushing. It didn’t sound very worldly, and yeah, it had gotten me into trouble before—but then, some guys liked jumping in to my rescue. Native New Yorkers just seemed to be able to detect when they were coming and how to get them to stop. “I’m good at hitchhiking, but I can’t get a damn taxi.”
He laughed. “Hitchhiking? Brave.”
The memory that swamped me for a moment was less than pleasant. It hadn’t exactly been a choice—I’d needed to leave town and get to the “big city” of Knoxville as soon as possible. Once I left my parents’ house, I got more familiar with making money stretch than I’d ever been before.
Luckily, I’d stayed safe on those first few trips, but pretty soon, I’d run out of money. The hustling I did these days was nothing like those first few jobs. That was survival sex work, where I didn’t get much of a say in how much I charged or what I did.
I was lucky I’d gotten out of that unscathed. Well, not just lucky—Josh and Evan, and their friends, had stepped in to make sure I’d never be in that position again. And I could have been left with triggers, but sex these days—even with clients—didn’t give me any unpleasant reminders.
There were guys who’d had way less ideal times, I knew. For all the money, we didn’t have much protection out there. No way would I go to the cops if anything ever went wrong. It was just as well I was walking away now, before… well.
“Sorry,” Charlie murmured, and I snapped back to reality. I was dizzy, and he had his arm around me tighter now. “That looked like a bad place to go.”
“I ran away from home by hitchhiking,” was the best I could sum it up. “Stereotypical, huh? Gay kid making his way in the world, selling his body?” I wanted to put a lid on the bitterness, but I’d so rarely been able to express it for one reason or another. I was either defending my right to exist or work, and I didn’t want to make my own life harder.
But it wasn’t all sunshine and roses, and… he was warm and comforting and right here, listening and not judging me. Not even feeling pity, which I hated. Just sympathy and concern for my wellbeing.
“I think we’re all stereotypes in one way or another,” he offered. “The single gay professional without time to date? I could have gone down a different stereotypical path very easily, too.”
The Uber arrived before I had a chance to think up a way to ask more about that. He’d tell me when he was ready.
Luckily, the driver seemed to sense we needed space and didn’t chat much on the drive back to Charlie’s house. Instead, I was able to keep chatting casually with him about Tennessee and what Knoxville was like. By the time we arrived, he even knew that I’d worked on a ranch, though I was careful not to identify it as a gay dude ranch. That would make it way too easy to find the closest thing I had to family. And I didn’t trust Charlie that much yet.
But I’d already told him more about my real past than anyone else, and I tried to justify it. He was a friend now, not just a client.
If I were honest? I’d admit to myself that I was lonely, and I liked him, and I was tired of hiding bits and pieces of myself to make myself more… palatable.
“If you don’t mind my asking,” I finally said when we were settled on the couch with glasses of water again, “when did you lose your… um, boyfriend?” I nearly said ex before realizing that would be a dick move. The guy had died, not dumped him.
“Five years ago.” Charlie’s voice was soft, reminiscent, but I didn’t hear the pain in it I’d kind of expected.
I glanced over and then scooted closer, and he put his arm around my shoulders. “That must have been huge.”
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I was a wreck. I was finishing up my degree at that point. I had nothing to spare except keeping going with that, and then coming home to break down.”
My heart twisted. God, and I was all cut up when Adam and I had a little disagreement over whose turn it was to do the dishes? “I’m sorry,” was all I could say. “I hate to think of you in pain.”
He hummed and pressed his cheek against my shoulder, and I rubbed his knee. “It was hard at first, yeah. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. When you think you’ve found the one, and then you have that ripped away from you, your whole life just… shatters. Worse than a breakup, by far. You never get to say goodbye properly, or see them again, or… anything.”
I sensed he hadn’t talked about this in a long time. He spoke slowly, like he wasn’t sure what words to use next. “Yeah.”
We lapsed into silence for a minute as he rested against me. He didn’t seem torn apart, but there was a quiet, sweet sadness around him that I didn’t dare disturb. God knew how long it had been since he’d let himself be vulnerable. I didn’t want to keep comparing him to my clients, but very often, they hired me because they desperately needed someone to listen without criticizing or judging or, God forbid, shutting them down.
“I guess it must be like that for you,” he finally murmured, looking over at me.
“Huh? Oh, with…” I grimaced. “My parents.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it—”
“No,” I interrupted firmly. I wasn’t upset about it anymore, either. It was just a fact of life, most of the time. Except when it wasn’t, but now wasn’t one of those moments. “They’re dead to me, because I’m dead to them. They held a funeral.”
“What?” Charlie yelped.
“Not a real one at a church, like they were collecting the insurance,” I managed a joke. “Just a private thing in their living room with their friends. Everyone knew damn well I’m alive, by the way. They were just mourning the Kev they wanted me to be.”
“That’s still the shittiest thing ever,” he growled, his arm tightening around me so much a bone in my shoulder clicked.
I liked being squeezed against him, feeling like his arms around me were a forcefield nothing could get through. I could get dangerously used to this. It was so unfamiliar that I hardly knew where to take it next, but I wanted more.
“You haven’t dated at all since?” I asked in a murmur. It was hard to pick up and set down my water glass on the coaster since I wanted to keep looking into his eyes… and I felt like I shouldn’t turn away from him at this kind of critical moment.
It was Charlie’s turn to blink. “Huh? Oh… no. Not even once.” He chuckled.
“Dating: not even once. You might just like it,” I warned with a grin. “Though I’m not really an expert. I’ve tried dating, but guys just reacted weirdly to my career, or Pretty Woman-ed that shit, or I didn’t connect with them… all the normal dating stuff. Maybe half a dozen dates since I moved here?” Then I smiled. “Plenty of Grindr dates, though.”
Charlie chuckled again, and I picked up a nervous tone. “Yeah, not even that for me. I’m gonna be so damn bad.”
I wanted to challenge that idea as soon as I could. “Sooner you start practicing again, the better you’ll get,” I said with a smirk.
“Oh!” Charlie’s eyes lit up as he grinned at me. “That’s a good line.”
“Is it working?”
“It might be.” Charlie was eager, despite his nerves. His breathing was quick, and he held onto me like he didn’t want to let me get away without trying something—anything.
I smiled. “How far do you want this to go?” I asked first. I didn’t want to get carried away and push him further than he was comfortable going. In some ways, he seemed a little bit traditional. If he wanted to save anything for marriage, I wasn’t gonna get in the way of that—although I might be a little jealous of the eventual husband.
“Anything you want,” he murmured, hesitation in his voice. That meant there was something he wasn’t saying.
“What do you want to do the most, then?” I prodded gently. I’d gotten laid plenty, whatever my dick told me. Relative to him, I was Casanova. I wanted to make him feel good.
“I’d love to fuck you,” he murmured at last. “It’s been… so long. But I don’t want to just use you. And when I was paying, that was all I could think.”
My heart ached for this beautiful man. It was like he was used to putting his needs in an orderly list and assigning price tags to them. “I’d love that,” I assured him, reaching for his cheek to cup it. As I’d hoped, it made him look at me. “And I’m on PrEP, but I’d rather use condoms.”
“Oh! Yes.” He looked kind of embarrassed. “I didn’t know how to ask that, either. I’m negative… I mean, I’ve been tested years ago, and since then… like I said.”
“Once you pop, you can’t stop,” I warned him with a wink. “Get your protection right from the beginning. It’ll keep you from antibiotic resistance in the future.” If he was going to go through a phase of rediscovering his sexuality, he might well get carried away otherwise. No need to encourage the superbugs of today.
“Yes, sir.” He looked amused. “What if I just want to fuck you tonight and think about the future tomorrow?”
Oh. I hadn’t expected that to take my breath away quite the way it did. I gulped, lacing my fingers with his. “I’d tell you to touch me, however you want.” I dragged his hand onto my thigh, wanting to see what he did and whether he needed to be guided.
But once he was touching me, he didn’t act like a beginner anymore. Muscle memory, perhaps, or pure instinct guided him as he ran his hand along my thigh and up my stomach, carefully avoiding my half-hard cock that was straining in my jeans. When his palm was flat on my chest, his other arm still around my shoulders, he leaned in to press our lips together.
I lost myself in that kiss and closed my eyes, letting him take over.
For tonight, everything about me was his. We could worry about the future tomorrow.
15
Charlie
Making out with Kev was like finding a missing piece in a puzzle you thought you’d completed. How the hell had I missed that gap in my life for so long? And when I’d acknowledged it, I’d thought it unimportant?
I needed the man’s touch on me more than I could express. When he finally started to return the exploration by running his hands along my chest and around to my back, I surprised myself with how goddamn loud I moaned.
There was definitely something going on here I didn’t understand.
Kev pulled back for a second, and my lips were suddenly disappointingly cool.
“You okay?” he murmured, those dark eyes intently fixed on mine.
I managed a smile. “I—I’m great,” I whispered. My tone faltered, though. I wasn’t even sure I believed it myself.
“What’s going on in here?” He tapped my temple gently with one long finger.
I sighed and closed my eyes for a second, trying to find words for it, and I failed. “I don’t know, but I need you. This.”
Kev smiled slightly, knowingly. “Have you heard of skin hunger?”
“Sounds like a horror movie. I don’t watch horror movies.”
That made Kev laugh, a musical sound that lifted my spirits right away. “No, it’s a concept. We as people need contact. That’s how we evolved. And in America, men don’t touch each other unless we’re,” he rolled his eyes, “gay. And even then, only when you’re dating another man. It’s why straight guys act like they so desperately need women—because they don’t get to be intimate with another person. Don’t get to touch someone, like this.”
His hand slipped up under my shirt, and even though it was sexual, the shiver of rightness that passed through me was far deeper than that. His words made sense. They tallied up with the feeling of completion in my chest.
“Oh,” I whispered. “Yeah. I am hungry.”
Kev cuddled close right away, swinging his leg over my lap and pressing himself into me, sliding his hands around my waist and burying his head in my shoulder.
Saying it felt good to hold him didn’t do justice to the neurons, or whatever they were, firing in my brain. I felt stronger somehow, even as I showed this vulnerability. “So sleeping with people is more than just sex,” I murmured.
“It can be,” he murmured. “If you’re not hugging and cuddling friends regularly… well, people deprived of contact start to feel isolated. Paranoid. On edge, like you’re craving something but you don’t know what. Sometimes people seek out addictive habits. But contact? It’s not a miracle cure, but I think it would stop a lot of bullshit if we just hugged our friends a little more often.”