by Ava O'Shay
“Nice place.” Assad set the glass down. Quill leaned back against the sink.
“Sorry. I’m not very adept at drinking.” Assad gave him a half smile.
Quill shrugged. “You shouldn’t be. You’re a well-adjusted… “ He stopped and frowned. Assad let out a laugh. “Well-adjusted gay man?”
“You said you weren’t gay.”
Assad started drumming his hands on the counter, swaying to a song in his head, before breaking out in A Great Big World’s song, Everyone is Gay.
Quill shook his head. “I’m not running from shit. I’m not gay.” “I’m not gay either.” Assad said.
“How exactly do you figure that?” Quill rubbed his chin. “I love what I love.” Assad took a gulp of water.
“I don’t get you.” Quill narrowed his eyes. “Are you bi?”
“I don’t do fucking labels.” Assad leaned his chin on a hand.
“Let’s just say for the sake of argument you had to label your sexual activities. What would that label be?”
Assad blinked slowly. “What label would you give yourself?” Quill shrugged.
“Pansexual,” Assad blurted out.
“Pansexual? You’re making that up.” Quill pushed off the counter and walked past where Assad sat. “Come on, I got to lie down.”
Quill was going to flop down on the couch in the living room, but instead headed down the narrow hall to his room. Assad had followed but stopped outside the door.
Quill glanced over his shoulder before settling onto the bed, kicking off his untied boots. “It’s okay. I trust you.”
Assad mumbled something like, I don’t even trust me, but came into the room and settled on the chair Quill had played the cello on earlier.
“So you were saying you’re a well-adjusted pansexual?” Quill put his hands behind his head, his shirt inching up around his waist, showing a hint of his stomach. He watched Assad’s gaze follow the line of his waistband. His tongue snuck out to lick his lips. Quill knew he was playing with fire, but something intrigued him about Assad and his ‘live by what you feel’ mantra and if he wanted to get Assad out of his head, maybe he should prove to himself this wasn’t what he really wanted.
“Uh, yeah. Meaning I go for what I like at the time.” He ran a hand over his hair, messing it up a little. “I told you that’s how I flow.”
“I didn’t know it had a name.”
“Everything has a name. God damn labels.” Assad moved his chair so it was closer to the bed, put his feet on the edge and pushed off to balance on two wobbly stilts.
“Better be careful; you were passed out in my car not five minutes ago.” “I’m fine. And I wasn’t passed out, I was re-energizing.”
“Like a superpower.” “Definitely like a superpower.”
“Hmm,” Quill hummed. “So, if Ren walked in here naked, you’d be making the moves on her?” He rolled to his side and propped his head up with an arm.
“Hell yeah. Your sister is hot. Do you think she will?” Assad chuckled, looking over his shoulder at the door.
“Keep your fucking eyes off her.”
“Relax. Is it possible for you to not say fuck? You use it as a noun, verb, and adjective.
Words aren’t supposed to be used that way. Be more creative. Use your vocabulary.”
“I invite you into my bedroom and you’re already trying to change me.” Quill stuck his hand up the hem of his shirt, scratching his belly. He watched Assad’s eyes go dark.
“I know what you’re doing.” Assad leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. “What am I doing?” Quill lowered his voice to his deep baritone.
“I’m not some drunk whore you picked up at the club. I’m not going to let you fuck me, and then say kiss my ass.”
“Now whose saying fuck? And you’re right, it was a bowling alley not a club.” “And the drunk whore part?”
Quill chuckled. “I guess that depends on what happens later.”
“I’m not some hard up guy looking for a hook up.” Assad lowered the legs of the chair to the floor and leaned his elbows on his knees. “I know you got some major shit going on in your head. Fucking the shit out of me isn’t going to make it go away.”
“Jesus Christ, Assad. Is it the beer that makes you swear like a sailor?” Quill laughed. “I’m trying to speak your language. I want you to hear what I’m saying.”
“I hear you.”
“Do you? Rubbing your stomach, touching me… you’re sending all the right signals, but why do I get the feeling it’s going to be a one sided experience.”
“What about you? What about your signals?” Quill tried to get Assad to clarify where he stood. It seemed they were both confused. His head was spinning with the mix of emotions. He didn’t do relationships, and he didn’t do guys, yet here he was pushing Assad to make a choice, pick a label, before he went any further. “Don’t you think you should decide? How can you bounce back and forth? You’re either gay or bi.”
“I love to love. I love people. I don’t get hung up on gender labels. If something catches my eye, I pursue it. Someday I might find someone who encompasses everything I want, but until then, I go with my heart.” Assad pushed his knees into the mattress.
“I’m not someone you should get hooked up with. I’m a mess.” Quill rolled on to his back, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I don’t know what the hell I want and whatever it is, I don’t deserve it.” He could feel Assad’s presence pulsing around him, and they hadn’t even touched yet.
“Everyone is messed up in one way or another.”
Quill let out a sad laugh. “Not like me. Don’t waste your love on me.” Quill couldn’t see but felt the bed shift as Assad moved to the edge.
“Love is never a waste. Even if it’s fleeting.” Assad ran light fingers down Quill’s arm.
An involuntary shiver coursed through Quill’s body.
Assad blew out a breath. “You are so handsome. I could sit and look at you all day.”
“I can’t give you anything back. I’m not capable of anything but destruction. That’s why I do what I do.”
“At least you have a reason for being a dick.” Assad’s breathe caressed Quill’s cheek as he spoke.
Quill knew Assad was going to kiss him. In fact, if he was honest with himself, he knew from the minute Assad asked to be his friend this kiss was going to happen. There was a connection between them that screamed for him to take it to another level, but was he willing to destroy the first person he cared about who wasn’t related to him? It didn’t matter Assad was a man, it didn’t make him immune to sorrow. A heart was a heart, and Quill’s ability to hurt people saw no boundaries. Assad’s soft lips brushed over Quill’s, electrifying every cell of his body. He wasn’t high, and the beer he’d drunk had hardly evoked a buzz. There was nothing to blame this evening on except unabashed desire.
“Tell me to stop if this isn’t okay,” Assad whispered against his cheek, running his lips along Quill’s jaw line. “Tell me to fuck off. To get the hell out if this isn’t what you want. I’ll leave with a huge case of blue balls, but I won’t push you.”
Quill didn’t answer. He raised his forearm from his eyes, keeping them closed while Assad worked some sort of magic down his neck. Quill never kissed with anything but wanton need. Solely for the purpose of getting a girl to drop her panties. He’d never let the girls take control. He kissed hard and long, but never with feeling. Until tonight, he wasn’t even sure if he’d had feelings. His chest was always so hollow. The caring touches Assad was giving him sent a warmth through him that scared the shit out of him. Quill ran his hand down Assad’s back, feeling the lean muscles tight against his T-shirt. He brought his other hand up, cupping the back of Assad’s head, threading his fingers in his dark hair. Never had he been touched or given touches of such gentleness. Sex had always been a violent and take what you want experience.
His heart hurt at the emotions flooding through him. He felt like he was on a roller coaster o
ut of control.
Assad shifted so he was lying alongside Quill, who’d remained on his back. Assad brought his kisses back around to find Quill’s mouth. His light touch intensifying with Quill’s increasing participation.
“Relax,” Assad whispered into the kiss. “I’m not going anywhere. This doesn’t have to be fast. Let me let you feel.”
Quill rolled over so they were facing each other, moving his hand so it cradled Assad’s jaw. Assad’s tongue traced Quill’s lower lip before sucking it into his mouth. When Quill’s lips parted, Assad took the opportunity to push into his mouth, searching out Quill’s tongue with his own. Soon their mouths, hands, tongues, and legs were in a twisted mess on Quill’s bed.
Assad’s touch at his waistband caused Quill to stiffen. Assad moved his hand back to Quill’s jaw, quieting and relaxing his body again.
Quill pulled back, squeezing his eyes shut. Before another shutter cursed through his body, he said, “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Tell me where to touch you. Tell me what you like.” Assad moved closer, his hot breath warming the space below Quill’s ear.
“I don’t know,” Quill groaned and attempted to roll away. “I never let them touch me.” He couldn’t do this. He felt sick to his stomach and all Assad had done was touch his waist. “Fuck.”
“No, Quill. Don’t. I won’t touch you if that’s what you want. If this is as far as you can go, I’m okay with that.” He groaned and pulled Quill’s earlobe into his mouth. Releasing it, he said, “But God I want to feel you against me.”
Quill pulled back from Assad’s soft words. He searched the face of the man he was currently lying in bed with. What in the hell was he doing?
“I can’t… “ Quill began, but Assad quickly put a finger to his lips.
“Don’t over analyze this.” He moved his finger and kissed Quill with a hard, closed-mouth kiss. “Whatever happens will not be written in stone for your future. Whatever happens does not define you. Do what feels good. Do what feels right. Don’t think about what society says you should do. Don’t think about what it will mean for your tomorrows. Just let yourself feel… not fuck.”
Quill closed his eyes. From somewhere deep inside, a tear slid down his cheek. Assad leaned in and kissed it.
“Living by my feelings doesn’t go well for me.”
“You’re safe here… with me… in this room. I won’t do anything you don’t want.” Assad gave Quill his half smile. “Don’t let your past define you.”
“I destroy everything that loves me. I’ve failed so many people.” Quill wiped his cheek roughly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m not asking for a lifetime. Just a night.” Assad wiped a rogue tear from Quill’s cheek. “Tell me what you want me to do. Let me do this for you.”
Quill leveled his stare. “Don’t touch below my waist,” he whispered.
“But that’s where all the fun happens.” Assad chuckled. “I won’t. Take you shirt off.” Quill rolled his eyes, sniffed loudly, and pulled his shirt off.
“Holy shit you have pierced nipples.” Assad looked at down at his crotch. “Did I just cum in my pants.”
Quill let out a small laugh.
“I like them.” Assad moved to sit on the side of the bed and stripped down to his waist, then kicked off his shoes. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”
Quill let his gaze travel from Assad’s waist to his face. He felt his dick pulse against his jeans. Assad had told him at their second meeting he was a soccer player, and his body screamed athlete. His skin was tight against long, lean muscles. His abs defined and calling to him to touch them. Instead Quill leaned up and kissed Assad’s shoulder. “I wish I could promise the same.”
“Let’s slow this down a little.” Assad hopped over Quill and leaned against the wall, stretching his legs out over Quill’s.
Quill frowned. Had his words scared Assad off?
Assad reached out and trailed his fingers down Quill’s chest. Quill shivered again.
Assad gave him a sad smile. “We’ll get back to what we were doing, but I think we need to take this slow. We’re not ready yet.”
Quill tried to get up. He was mortified that this night was going in the direction of worst date ever.
“God you’re beautiful.” Assad put his hands in his lap. “It’s hard not to touch you.” “I’m sorry I thought I could do this,” Quill said.
“How many tattoos do you have?” Assad talked right over him. “Four.”
“Do they have meaning?” Assad ran a finger over the script on Quill side.
“All pretty much sum up my life sucks.” Quill squirmed as a shiver ran up his side from the sensitive touch. Assad was right when he said he couldn’t keep his hands off him.
Assad raised an eyebrow.
“We’re really doing this?” Quill grabbed a pillow, puffing it up and shoving it under his head. “Talking?”
“Yep.”
“I don’t talk to my lays.”
Assad chewed on his bottom lip. “Is that what I am?”
Quill sighed and pointed to his forearm. “Got the dice when I was sixteen. Ren and I went together for our birthday.”
“Don’t you have to be eighteen?”
Quill raised an eyebrow this time. “I’ve had a fake ID since then. It was my gift to myself. Made it easier to score what I needed and get inked.”
“I forgot you were a juvenile delinquent.”
“Yeah don’t forget that.” Quill smiled, feeling the sexual tension in the room begin to dissipate. Maybe there was something to this talking thing.
“Whatever. Go on.” Assad waved his hand at Quill then began to rub his palm over Quill’s jean clad thigh.
“The dice. Craps. Life’s a crap shoot.” Quill forced himself not to move under Assad’s touch.
Assad wrinkled his nose. “That sucks.”
“Wait. I’m not done.” He pointed to the hand of cards above the dice. It’s called a bad beat.”
Assad shook his head. “No clue.”
“It’s a hand in poker where the player looks like he has a great hand but loses anyway.” “A metaphor?”
“You’re catching on.” Quill nodded. “And the words… What doesn’t kill you… a little bit of hope. To get me through.”
“I wish you’d had it easier.” Assad moved ran his hand higher up Quill’s leg. “Everyone has their cross to bear.” Quill looked at Assad, who had his eyes trained on the hand rubbing soft circles up his thigh.
“That’s only three.”
Quill closed his eyes, rubbing his fingers into them. “The last is on my ass.” “Can I see it? Is it a fairy? A puppy? Smurf maybe?” Assad teased.
“It says fuck you.”
Assad probably hadn’t realized he’d removed his hand from Quill’s leg. But the movement was loud and clear to Quill. Assad was beginning to put the pieces to Quill’s puzzle together. The distance between them brought a chill to the room. Quill waited. He knew he’d ask for clarification. If it was him, he’d ask. But Assad didn’t ask.
“How about your name? Where does Quill come from? Was your mom into antique pens? Feathers maybe.” Assad replaced his hand on Quill’s leg.
Quill tried to read his expression, but Assad continued to watch his hand and avoided looking at him. “Seriously need to know everything about me in the first hours of knowing me? Where’s the mystery in that?”
“I don’t like mystery. Not when it comes to you. I think there is a lot of mystery you’ll never enlighten me to, so I need to know the stuff you will tell me.”
“My mom isn’t into anything she can’t shoot up or snort. She got Ren and me drunk when we were… well, I remember it the first time when I was eight. We were taken away from her that year. I actually learned to smoke pot and do a variety of other drugs on summer visitation. Learned other useless behaviors in the group homes after some time in foster care.
Grams got us back end of middle school, but I sti
ll went out and got wasted. I was too far gone to stop.”
Assad shuffled around until he was lying next to Quill again. He rested his hand lightly on Quill’s stomach. “I still want to know the thought behind your name.”
“We didn’t have names for a while. She brought us home to Grams for a few months and disappeared. I figured she was stoned when she picked out the names. I already reminded you we’re twins, right?”
“You’re stalling.” “Tranquility and Serenity.” “Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately, I am completely serious.” “Wow.”
“Yeah. Learned to punch people out at an early age,” Quill said.
Assad began to caress Quill’s chest with a feather light touch. “Are you okay? With me being here?” Assad’s voice lowered. His gaze watched his fingers trace the outlines of Quill’s abs.
Quill blew out a long breath. “Remember the girl at The Warehouse? The one in the hall.”
“I try to forget, but yeah.” Assad’s fingers teased at the waistband of Quill’s jeans. Never crossing the line Quill had set.
“I try to forget, too.” Quill laughed then got serious. “I pulled her in the bathroom and had her skirt up around her waist, drilling her… “
“Do I really need to know this?”
Quill put his hand over Assad’s, holding it tight to his belly. “I couldn’t finish. I was pumping into her, and my dick was going limp. I couldn’t get off.”
Assad met his gaze questioning. “Until I thought about you.”
Assad’s face softened. “Jesus,” he blew out.
It was the first real encouragement Quill had given Assad, and all he could think was what the hell had he admitted to?
“Look at me,” Assad whispered. “Don’t take your eyes off of mine.” He pulled his hand out from under Quill’s and shifted so he was hovered over him. With soft kisses, Assad began to work his way over Quill’s chest. “Keep looking at me. It is only you and me.”
Quill shivered as Assad licked and kissed over Quill’s chest pulling a nipple ring into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. He couldn’t help his body’s response. His back arched, pushing his chest into Assad. Assad straddled him, his hands finding their way under Quill’s sides, his fingers pulsing against the muscles.