by Ava O'Shay
If he thought Assad would let it go, he’d been fooling himself.
Quill bummed a joint from the group hanging outside and was smoking on the front steps of The Warehouse when Assad caught up to him.
“I want to talk to you,” Assad started.
“I already tried that and you weren’t into it. I don’t feel like talking anymore.”
“I never said I didn’t want to talk to you. I said I wanted you to get your shit together. I can’t get in a relationship with someone who hits me.”
“Who says I want a relationship? I don’t do relationships, and from what I hear, neither do you.” Quill drilled him with a stare. “I didn’t hit you like that.”
“Like what, Quill? All I know is I did something you didn’t like and you nailed me. I don’t know what it was, and I won’t let anyone treat me like that. No matter how much I like you, I won’t get involved in an abusive relationship.”
“Abusive relationship? I’m not someone that abuses their… “ He wasn’t sure what to say, Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Whatever the hell people in his life were. “Relationships don’t work for me. And I don’t hit people.”
“Just me.” Assad dropped his head into his hands. “It wasn’t like that,” Quill mumbled.
They sat in silence, listening to the party going on around them. Finally, Assad pushed off the steps to stand. Without thinking, Quill grabbed his hand. “I destroy everything I touch. I told you I wasn’t worth it.”
Assad didn’t turn around when he spoke. “It an excuse. An out for you when people get too close. I can’t be the only one in this. Either you level with me, or I can’t do it.”
“I’m not asking you to do anything,” Quill said quietly.
“You did when you sang me that song.” Assad turned on him. “I didn’t sing you a song.”
Assad bugged his eyes out at him. “What?”
“Look me in the eye and tell me you did not choose that song to sing with Cori to give me some sort of musical message.”
“A musical message. What the hell?” Quill laughed dryly. “Yeah, Quill, what the hell?”
Quill cupped the brim of his hat with his hands and squeezed. “Okay I sang you the song.”
Assad sat back down. “Dammit, Quill. Level with me.” “I am.”
“You know what I mean. Talk to me about what happened. Why’d you hit me?’ “I just did. I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to tell me why I got cold cocked for touching you. Do you have a brain tumor? Some disease that you don’t want me to know about? Tourette’s?”
“Jesus. No. Why does it matter? Get over it already,” Quill spat.
“It matters to me.” Assad began rubbing his temples.
“I can’t,” Quill finally muttered. “If you knew, you’d run like your ass was on fire.” “Yeah, you can. Because if you don’t, I’m running anyway.” Assad ran a hand up and down Quill’s thigh. “If I mean enough to you, you’d talk to me so we can get past this.”
“Why? Because I’ve known you for like a second and let you kiss me? Let you jack me off? That doesn’t give you the right to demand to hear my story. If it did, every fucking chick out there would know my story. Stop throwing your psych shit at me. I don’t need to be fixed.”
“Cori,” Assad muttered and shook his head. Assad turned. “This has nothing to do with my choice of academic major. It has to do with me spending a few hours with a guy I really liked, and then he split my lip wide open. I want to know what I did.”
“You didn’t do anything. It wasn’t about you. You’re still the awesome guy you were before. Don’t think me smacking you is a character flaw you need to search out so you can become a better person.”
“It’s about us.” Assad’s voice was weary.
It was probably best Quill had hit him. He certainly hadn’t meant to. The memories were driving him crazy lately. There wasn’t enough alcohol to drown them out and sex wasn’t working. He was falling apart, and he needed to be alone to get his shit together. He and Ren had always been alone. It was better that way. Assad needed to back off. He’d thought maybe Ren had a shot when Jolin showed up. He looked like he could pull Ren out of the hell hole they lived in, but that ended in a whole lot of fucked up. He couldn’t let Assad in to then watch him walk away. Jolin leaving was destroying Ren little by little.
“Just leave me alone. When I tell you. If I told you. You’d leave anyway. Make it easier on all of us and leave now.” Quill rubbed his thighs. “You need to stop.”
“Why, you going to hit me?” Assad chipped.
“God dammit, Assad, my life is shit and everything I touch turns to shit. I don’t get happily ever after. Aren’t you listening? Get out while you can.”
“I can’t. I can’t get you out of my head.” “Well neither can I,” Quill yelled to the sky.
“Fight for something dammit. Fight for Cori, fight for your music, fight for me.” Assad’s low baritone rumbled through Quill. “Don’t just give up.”
God why was he drawn to him when his gut hadn’t recovered from the sour taste of vomit the last time they were together?
“Shit. Let’s do this.” Quill leaned back against the steps and looked up at the cloudy sky. Assad needed something so Quill gave him a little. A very little. “I don’t like people coming up behind me. It triggers me. Brought back some shit from the past, and I snapped.” Quill blew out a breath.
“Well, that’s a relief. I really thought you had some inoperable tumor that was making you an asshole.” Assad leaned back next to him. “So I won’t come up behind you anymore. See, that wasn’t that hard.”
Quill closed his eyes. Yeah it was fucking hard. He found the joint he’d set on the step and inhaled deeply. “You suck.”
“Why do I suck?”
“You have totally sucked the high out of my debut.” Smoke surrounded them as he exhaled.
“I wish you wouldn’t smoke.”
“I wish you wouldn’t fuck with my head.” Quill sucked the smoke in deep, closing his eyes while holding it in his lungs. Wishing it would take away the pain in his chest at knowing even though he was giving Assad a chance, he would leave just like everyone else. “I guess wishes are worthless.” His voice was horse from the weed.
“I guess it’s all in your perspective.” Assad sighed.
Quill flicked the last of the joint into the parking lot. “I don’t know how you guys do it.” He needed to change the subject.
“Do what?”
“Play like that, and then calm down. I feel like I have electricity bouncing in my soul.” Quill gave a little shake of his body.
“Sad to say we don’t usually experience crowds like that. Most the time they humor us.
You… they truly rocked out with. I guess we find a calming place to decompress. Without drugs.” Assad reached out and placed a hand on Quill’s knee. “I listened, and I heard.”
Quill glanced at him. “You listened, and you heard.” “I heard you,” Assad repeated his cryptic message.
Quill could have pretended he didn’t understand what Assad was saying, but seeing as the songs Quill had chosen had significance to their relationship, it would have been stupid to deny him.
Assad ran a hand over his face. “It’s just… I see what this secret is doing… has done to you. I’m not sure I want to stand by and watch you destroy yourself. I’m not sure I can.”
Quill had to laugh. He wasn’t even in a relationship, and he was getting the same talk Jolin had given to Ren. “No one is asking you to.”
“How can you toss me aside so easily? Didn’t the other night mean anything? You can’t tell me you don’t feel the connection.” Assad’s voice was getting impatient.
“Dude, I fuck women and it means less.” Quill moaned. “You’re ruining my buzz.” “God dammit. You’re such a dick.” Assad pushed off the step to walk away.
Quill grabbed his hand, the warmth filling him with the need he’d been suppressing. He
had so many things he wanted to say. He wanted to tell Assad that a man had taken his innocence at a very young age and had then taken it again in a much more violent manner when he was twelve. That he’d learned to fuck from a woman that should have known better than to look for sex from a kid who wasn’t even a teenager yet, and how he searched her out to get the closest things he’d ever known to love. That he let her do things to him so he could feel her arms around him instead of the men who took from him every chance they got. He wanted to tell Assad he’d never felt real love before. He’d never been touched with the caring touches Assad had given him the night they spent together. But most of all, Quill wanted to tell Assad he wanted him to wrap him in his arms and take away the memories the men had given him. To give him new memories and show him he was worthy of more than a fuck. But he couldn’t tell him any of that. All he could do is exactly what the song he’d sang to him said: he’d ask for forgiveness one last time even though they both knew Quill would push him away again.
“It meant something,” Quill struggled to say. “I fucking feel it.” “I want to help you,” Assad whispered.
“I’m not asking you to.”
Assad’s shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Do whatever you feel like.” Quill smiled up at him. Throwing the words Assad had said to him a few short weeks ago.
“I don’t want a night with you, and that’s all you’re offering.”
“I don’t know what the fuck I’m offering.” Quill ran his fingers over Assad’s palm. Assad gave him a pained grin but pulled Quill off the step. Linking his fingers through Quill’s, he led him across the parking lot to his car.
-oOo-
“Are you too high to make a coherent decision on what you’re doing tonight? Assad moved his head to the side, avoiding Quill’s mouth. The minute they’d begun to climb the stairs to the apartment, Quill had Assad pressed against the wall.
Quill grabbed Assad’s chin and kissed him, using his tongue to explore Assad’s mouth, lowering his hands over his ass. “I know what I’m doing. I consent to whatever happens tonight. Do you need me to sign a release?”
“You’re such a smart ass.” Assad closed his eyes and banged his head against the wall behind him. “I don’t know why I’m letting you pull me into this because I know it’s going to end badly.”
Quill kissed Assad’s neck. “I had the best night of my life tonight, and I want to end it with you. Stop looking past this moment. Just feel.” Quill started to laugh. He was making fun of Assad and found himself hilarious.
Assad put his hands on Quill’s chest and pushed him away. “I’m not doing this with you.”
“Come on. I was kidding around. Lighten up,” Quill complained. “I don’t like you high.”
“I don’t like you drunk in a bowling alley, but I put up with you, and you can put up with me.”
Assad rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.
Quill tried to stare him down with a serious expression, but he couldn’t stop smiling, either from the pot or because he was extremely happy to have Assad here again.
“Just open the God damn door already,” Assad snapped.
Ren was still at the club or holed up in her room, but she didn’t emerge when they came plowing in, so he figured she wasn’t home. Quill led Assad to his room, before he began rethinking this night and fell back on his old ways. As soon as his door shut, he had Assad against the wall again, tugging at his shirt.
“Whoa. Whoa. Slow down,” Assad complained. “This isn’t going down like that.” Quill took a deep breath and stepped back. “I thought you wanted,” he mumbled.
“I wanted what?”
“To fuck me.” Quill gave him a hard stare.
“If that’s what you think, then I think I’ll be going.”
“I didn’t mean… “ Quill shifted, all of a sudden uncomfortable.
Assad stepped forward. “Let me do this my way. We aren’t rushing this so you get a quick fix. That isn’t what this is about. This will never be like that.”
Quill nodded, looking at his feet.
Assad ran his hands down Quill’s arms. When he got to his fingertips he guided them, lifting them over his head. He trailed his own fingers back down Quill’s arms and sides until he reached the hem of his T-shirt. Slowly, Assad lifted it up and over Quill’s ribs then pushed it over Quill’s head and over the tips of his fingers.
“Shit, Quill, what happened?” Assad stepped back, looking at the greenish purple bruise marring Quill’s perfect physique.
Quill attempted to lower his arms, but Assad grabbed his wrists, keeping them in place over his head. “I got jumped.”
“A bunch of fans? A jilted woman?” Assad quickly retorted. “I don’t jilt women.”
“Sleeping with them and never calling is the definition of jilted.”
“The women I’m with don’t expect a call. You know none of them ever call me either,” Quill pouted.
“Poor baby,” Assad teased. “Seriously, Quill. Who beat the shit out of you? I thought you weren’t a fighter.”
“Obviously I’m not since I got the shit beat out me.” Quill repeated Assad’s words in a snotty voice, then dropped his gaze to his bruised ribs. “The girl I was seeing’s boyfriend and his thugs.” It still hurt to know she’d used him. He looked up at the ceiling, noticing the dust around the light fixture. “She was trying something new. Me. Invited me to a party, left me to fuck her boyfriend. I walked in. Punched his naked ass. His goons jumped me.” Quill lowered his head to look at the damage. “My face healed up but this is taking longer.”
“You were seeing a girl?” Assad asked. “So were you,” Quill shot back.
“She’s a friend. I was doing her a favor.”
“You let girls stick their tongue down your throat as a favor?” Quill continued in a snotty tone.
“I was licking my wounds over a guy who punched me. What’s your excuse?” Assad’s amber eyes searched Quill’s.
“I was trying to prove to myself I didn’t need you,” Quill whispered.
“Did it work? Before she cheated on you?”
“No. I don’t want hard and fast anymore. You ruined me.” Quill leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on Assad’s cheek.
“Well I’m not sorry it didn’t work out. Are they broke?” Assad ran a light fingertip over the bruising.
Quill shrugged. “Not sure.” “Does it hurt?”
“Like a bitch.”
“I’ll be careful then.” Assad dropped the shirt to the floor.
“Are you sure that’s the part of me you’re interested in?” Quill chuckled to himself. Assad met his gaze again. “I’m interested in every inch of you.”
Quill let out a shaky breath. What the hell was Assad doing to him? Quill kept his arms extended, continuing to wait for Assad’s permission to put them down. Assad’s warm hands caressed his chest, his abs, his mouth leaned in to take one of the gold hoops piercing Quill’s nipple into his mouth and sucked.
Quill’s sharp breath lifted his chest, pulling the ring taunt in Assad mouth. Assad’s tongue swirled around the hard tip. Quill felt his control wavering. He dropped his arms and dug his fingers into Assad’s shoulders wanting, no, needing, to slam his dick into something to feel in control again.
Assad let go and straightened, meeting Quill eye to eye. “You okay?” He threaded his fingers through Quill’s. “It’s okay to feel. Don’t be afraid of it. This isn’t about what you can take from me. Let me do this for you.”
“I don’t think I can.” Quill felt like his body was going to explode. “I need to be in control.” He didn’t like the feeling of losing it.
“Let me. Nothing can hurt you in this room. Trust me. I won’t hurt you.” Assad trailed kisses over his cheeks. “We won’t do anything without you agreeing. I don’t want a repeat of the last time.”
“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.” Quill’s voice broke.
“I don’t want you to feel like I took advantage of you. I don’t want you to feel used.
This is about feeling cared for. You asked me here, remember?”
Quill could understand Assad’s concern. Assad didn’t understand the demons laying wait just under the surface. Quill told him he didn’t like being approached from behind, but it was really so much more. He didn’t want to feel used. He didn’t want to feel out of control. Most of all, he wasn’t sure he could handle feeling everything Assad was willing to give him. Assad was different from the sweaty men of his past. He was asking permission. He was making sure everything was the way Quill needed it. He wasn’t looking for gratification by sacrificing Quill.
It almost made it worse.
“Stop thinking,” Assad whispered.
Quill groaned when Assad’s hands lightly ran over his bruise. “Sorry.” Assad chuckled. “Got you out of your head didn’t it?’ “Asshole.” Quill grimaced. “You’re not playing fair.”
“All’s fair in love and war… “ Assad let his voice trail off.
“That isn’t what this is.”
Assad stepped back. “Well, it’s something.”
Quill pulled at Assad’s shirt until he conceded and helped shuck it off, tossing it to the side. Quill ran his hands over Assad’s body in much the same way Assad had done for him. “I tried this with Missy. It didn’t work.”
Assad smiled. “Wasn’t she missing some important parts to be trying this with?” Quill stopped and narrowed his eyes. “I meant I tried slow.”
“Couldn’t do it?”
“I didn’t get a chance. She complained. She wasn’t into slow and leisurely. She wanted fucked hard.” Quill shrugged. “So I did.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that.”
“It’s not in the cards for me. People don’t see me in that way, and they aren’t looking for sweet and caring from a tattooed, pierced, bad boy. I’m okay with it.”