Tranquility

by Ava O'Shay

  “I’m not.”

  Quill looked away from Assad. He had the ability to see when he was bullshitting, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

  He thought he’d give Assad something. Not a lot, but more than he probably should and enough that Assad would be able to begin piecing some things together. “It’s what was taken from me when I was young. What I was taught and all I know. “

  Assad’s expression was confused, then sad. “I’m sorry.” His voice was a whisper, and Quill almost didn’t hear him. “It shouldn’t have been like that. There are some sick fucks out there.”

  He stepped away from Assad’s warmth. “I don’t want sorry. It is what it is. It’s my life, I take what comes.”

  “It shouldn’t have happened.” Assad made up the space and laced his fingers through Quill’s. “You should have been protected.”

  Quill shook his head. “I asked for it. I wanted it. It was the only love I knew.” He pulled his hand away from Assad’s and scrubbed his palms over his face. “It’s the only way I know how to make it work.”

  Assad gripped Quill’s face in his hands. “It’s not the way it has to be. There are people who aren’t going to screw with your head. You have to believe you deserve better to get better.”

  The kissing and touching became more intense while Quill spouted his grandma’s sayings… be better, get better… the grass is always greener moved them to lose their pants and soon after their jockey’s. Lying naked together on the bed, Quill began to panic. His breath caught and came out in short gasps. He was hyper-ventilating.

  Assad sat up, pulling Quill up to begin rubbing his back in big circles.

  “Just breathe.” He ran a hand over Quill’s hair, moving it off his forehead. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything more.” Assad ran calming hands up Quill’s back, pulling him back onto the mattress and placing a blanket over them. “We can just lay here. I’m okay with that.”

  “I’m not gay. I don’t want to be gay.” Quill’s voice shook at the anxiety he was feeling. “Why am I doing this?”

  “We don’t have to label this.” Assad’s voice was a low rumble in his ear. “I like women.”

  “So do I.”

  “Cori kissed me the other night.” Assad chuckled. “Yeah?”

  “You slept with her.”

  Assad laughed again. “She certainly filled you in on me didn’t she? Yes I slept with her, and I slept with my date the other night. I like women. They have something men don’t.”

  “Like a vagina.”

  “Ha, ha. When did you get to be the comedian?” Assad chuckled. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

  “I don’t how I’m supposed to feel about this.”

  “Why put yourself in a box? Do what you want. No one should tell you to only sleep with men or only with women… you’re experimenting. We’re two consenting adults doing what feels good, and we aren’t hurting anyone.”

  Quill wished it could be that easy. Somehow he doubted it would be.

  Assad ran his hand down Quill’s cheek. “So, you want to try this without punching me in the face? I don’t want to do anything wrong. I need you to talk to me.”

  Quill leaned in and kissed him softly.

  Assad grabbed a bottle of lotion. Keeping his eyes on Quill’s, Assad squirted some lotion into the palm of his hand, then grabbed Quill’s hand to share the lotion between them. When their hands were thoroughly lubricated, Assad guided Quill’s hand over his length, then reached out to touch Quill’s. Quill’s body tensed immediately at his touch. Assad leaned in, pressing his lips to Quill’s until he relaxed. His hand never stopping its motion. Quill hesitated but mimicked the movement.

  “Jesus,” Assad moaned, his lips leaving Quill’s when his head tipped back. “Dammit.

  Stop.” He pushed Quill’s hand away. “I don’t want to lose it. I need a minute.”

  Quill rested his head on a propped up arm and watched Assad’s chest move up and down while he took calming breaths. Quill reached out and lightly touched Assad’s chest. Assad jumped and scooted away. “Fuck, Quill. Stop.” He laughed.

  Quill gave him a sly grin. “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, you sound sorry.” Assad propped his head up, mimicking Quill’s position. The joy in his eyes faded and his expression turned dark. “This isn’t about me.”

  “It could be,” Quill mumbled.

  “It could. But it isn’t.” Assad reached between them and grabbed Quill’s length again. “Is this okay?”

  Quill closed his eyes and nodded.

  “If I told you I wanted to taste you, what would you say?” Quill’s eyelids snapped open.

  Assad continued to move his hand up and down while giving Quill a shy smile. “Just asking.”

  “I don’t know,” Quill stuttered. “So… “

  “I don’t know,” he repeated.

  Assad nodded and kissed him. His hand never losing its smooth motion. Assad used his shoulder to push Quill back on the bed and straddled him.

  Quill stiffened.

  “It’s okay,” Assad whispered against his chest, trailing kisses down.

  Assad positioned himself over Quill. “Tell me if this gets intense for you. If you need to take a breath.”

  “Do I get a safe word?” Quill chuckled.

  “Stop would do it, but if you want something more creative go for it.” Assad leaned forward, licking, sucking, and kissing around Quill’s chest.

  “Stop’s good,” Quill groaned. “Fuck.” Quill’s hips jerked as Assad’s warm tongue touched the tip of his cock.

  Assad encircled the crown with his mouth, running his tongue over the end, then left his dick crying for more as he returned to take Quill’s mouth in a deep kiss. “Are you okay?” he whispered into the kiss.

  “Yeah.” Quill’s voice was breathy. His body wound tight.

  “I’ll stop, Quill. You tell me to, and I will.” Assad’s beautiful eyes looked up at him. “This is an emotional act. I really like you. I want you to feel good not because I need it to get off but because I care enough about you to want to give you this.”

  A lump formed in Quill’s throat. Assad’s words were his undoing. Tears ran out the corners of his eyes. Assad was trying to give him back something he’d lost long ago.

  “Oh baby,” he cooed, returning to Quill’s face to kiss away his tears. “This isn’t fucking.

  This is loving.”

  Quill could only nod.

  “You want to stop? Is it too much for you?” Assad ran his fingers down Quill’s cheek. “I just need a minute,” he croaked out.

  Assad positioned himself close beside Quill, pulling him to lay in the crook of his shoulder and began running his fingers through Quill’s hair. With his other hand, he tugged the blanket up and over their hips.

  “I’m sorry. I’m trying.” Quill blew out a deep breath, trying to center himself. “Nothing to be sorry about. This isn’t a race to the finish. This is a long stroll full of interesting and enjoyable moments.” Quill chuckled.

  Assad’s hand moved to draw circles over Quill’s back, lulling him into a lazy sleep.

  Quill’s body had never responded to anyone’s like it did to Assad’s. He lifted his head to look at Assad, who was leaning against the headboard, his eyes closed, and his mouth slightly open. God damn what was it about him. Pushing himself up, he placed his mouth on Assad’s, feeling a smile spread under his lips.

  “You okay?” Assad said around the kiss.

  Quill answered by taking Assad’s mouth in a deep kiss while his hand located Assad’s hard cock under the blanket. Assad’s head tilted back as Quill’s hand pulsed up and down his length, a moan filling the kiss they shared. Then Assad’s strong hand stopped Quill’s.

  “Give up the control tonight. Give that to me.” Assad looked hard at him. “Let me be the one you trust. Give it to me. Don’t let me take it.”

  Quill nodded. He wanted this with Assad. He wanted to be able to give it to him.


  Assad shifted so he could begin his onslaught over Quill’s body once more, eventually returning to where things had abruptly ended before.

  “Tell me what you want me to do.” Assad looked up at Quill. His eyes filled with a caring Quill had never seen from a lover before. Hell he’d never had a lover before.

  “I want to cum in your mouth,” Quill whispered. Assad closed his eyes. A deep shaky breath came out.

  Without another word, Assad did what Quill had asked.

  .twenty-nine

  Quill Diaz

  November 20

  3:00 a.m.

  Quill was jerked awake by the nightmare. His body shivered from the cold sweat covering him.

  Assad’s arm was draped across his chest.

  He lifted it gently and scooted his way out from under Assad’s hold, stepping on the now cold wash cloth and towel laying in the floor. He tiptoed around until he found some shorts and slid them on. Assad groaned and murmured something incoherent. Quill went back to the bed and placed a kiss on Assad’s temple, running a hand down his side to calm him back into sleep.

  He padded out to the kitchen to look for a beer or something stronger. Their cupboards were bare, so he settled for a glass of orange juice. Apparently, Mrs. Daniel wasn’t keeping their alcohol stash full. He saw the Saran wrapped bowl of spaghetti and grabbed it along with a fork and headed to the couch.

  The little green light on his phone blinked at him from the coffee table. Quill settled in and took a big bite of noodles, one dribbling off the fork and landing by his belly button. He brushed it away with his napkin and picked up his phone. Thumbing it awake he scrolled through his texts. Cori had texted him.

  I’m sorry you left. Simon loved you. Thinks he can get us some more gigs. Please say yes!

  In fact, Cori had texted him ten times.

  Quill quickly read through them. Each one turning from the night’s performance to more personal messages, hoping he had mended things with Assad and was bumping uglies.

  “Jesus Christ.” Quill dropped the fork into the bowl, burped, and tossed his phone to the side. So much for his relaxed mood.

  He’d been weak when it came to Assad. Quill hoped since Assad was a guy, he’d be stronger when the shit hit the fan. This thing they were doing was a mutual attraction, nothing more. Assad knew it was fleeting. At least Quill hoped he did. If Quill let it become more, it would consume him and destroy both of them when it ended badly. And it was going to end badly. The minute Quill let any sense of contentment fill him, the wrath of the universe would come down.

  “Hey.” Assad came into the room, running a hand over his messy hair while the other rubbed his stomach. He must have dug through the drawers because he was sporting a pair of Quill’s flannel pajama bottoms.

  “Hey,” Quill answered, wiping at his mouth both from the spaghetti he’d been eating and the drool he felt pooling at the site of Assad in his pants. Good lord.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Was hungry so I got up.”

  Assad nodded toward the phone sitting on the couch next to Quill. “Who you talking to?”

  “No one. Well, Cori texted me after we left. Wondered where I went. Told me a friend of hers… Simon? Wants to get me into a recording studio and sign us up for a few gigs.”

  Assad laughed. “No shit.”

  Quill raised an eyebrow. “Who is this douche?”

  Assad laughed again. “This douche works for a large record label out of New York. He’s a friend of Cori’s and Don’s. She stays with his family when she auditions for Julliard. And apparently is her new boyfriend.”

  There were so many questions racing through Quill’s head after that sentence. Which one to ask first? “Boyfriend?”

  “That’s what she said.” Assad settled next to him on the couch. “She kissed me earlier.” Quill said almost to himself.

  Assad chuckled. “She slept with me.” Quill glanced over at him. “She likes us.” “She loves us.” Assad nodded, smiling. “But… “

  Assad leaned in and kissed Quill. “But she knows she can’t have us.”

  “Simon might not like her spreading her kisses around.” Quill lightly bit Assad’s bottom lip and tugged. So much for keeping things in perspective.

  Assad closed his eyes and gave him a smile of pure bliss. “He’ll have to learn to deal.

  She likes to give kisses.” He opened his eyes and stared intently at Quill. “Your mouth is heaven. I could cum with just a kiss.”

  “You have such a way with words. The students must love you.”

  Assad’s smile disappeared. “I’m a grad student. Assistant to the department head. I’m not a professor.”

  “But you teach a class on personality disorders,” Quill said. “Yes. I do.”

  “I’m not some lab rat.” Quill shifted away, giving them some space.

  “No you aren’t. I’m not interested in a relationship with a lab rat.” Quill stiffened. “This isn’t a relationship.”

  Assad touched his arm. “I’d like it to be.” Quill shook his head.

  “How do you know you can’t do it if you don’t try?” Assad rubbed his hand up and down Quill’s arm. “You can’t tell me what we have isn’t magical.” He chuckled.

  Quill laughed and sat back against the couch. “One line after another.” Assad rubbed at his abs. “It’s what won you over.”

  “Yeah not so much.” Quill stretched his arms out and decided to change the direction of their conversation. “I thought Cori’d only applied once and deferred.”

  “After the first deferral, they called her, wanting her to try out again. She said she wasn’t ready. Then, at the last minute, she thought she was, so Simon and his family offered to take her in and help her get all her shit there. She had a panic attack on the way to the airport and didn’t go. That pretty much is the mode of operation she follows every six months or so. Auditions, gets in, won’t get on the plane.”

  “Maybe someone should drive her there.”

  Assad stared at him like he’d suggested rowing a boat across the country. “I’m not sure anyone ever thought of that before.”

  “If she does it again, we should road trip her over there. I bet she’d have less anxiety.

  Not to mention it would be a blast.”

  Assad lowered himself into the cushions. Leaning back against the arm rest, he pulled Quill between his legs, wrapping his arms over Quill’s chest. “This okay with the ribs?”

  Quill shifted so his head rested on Assad’s chest. “Yeah they’re fine.”

  Assad drew lazy circles on Quill’s stomach, making his muscles quiver when it tickled then lightly began drumming his palms against the bare skin.

  “Are you beat boxing on my stomach?” Quill laughed. Assad made a trumpet sound with his mouth.

  When Assad found his rhythm, he began to sing the Jason Derulo’s song Trumpet.

  Quill laughed again at the first line about undressing and the song he hears. Assad changed the line that talked about violins to cellos. When he got to angels and moaning, Assad shifted on the couch, straddled Quill and took his mouth in a deep kiss.

  “God, I can’t get enough of you,” Assad mumbled, biting at Quill’s mouth when the door was kicked open and slammed into the adjacent wall. Assad sat up, pinning Quill’s legs to the couch as he twisted to see what was happening.

  Quill’s stare met the pissed off face of a guy he never thought would step foot in his apartment and never expected to be carrying his sister’s limp, unconscious body over his shoulder.

  “What the fuck?” Quill struggled to get up, pushing Assad to the side.

  Brock stood in the entry way, his mouth gaping open. “Dude are you making it with a guy?”

  “Shut up,” Quill snapped, landing on his knees next to the couch. Hopping up, he moved to Ren. Grabbing her face in in his hands, he shook her. “What the hell did you do to my sister, you fucking asshole?”

  “Whoa there tinker bell. I didn’t do anythi
ng to her except save her sorry ass.” Brock tossed her in the air a little to get a better grip. “Where do you want her?”

  Quill thought about grabbing her out of Brock’s arms and punching him in the face, but couldn’t figure out how to do it without dropping Ren to the floor.

  Assad came to the rescue. “Here, her room’s back here.”

  Brock looked from Assad’s bare chest back to Quill’s, shook his head and followed Assad down the hall.

  “Why is she passed out?” Quill asked stupidly. Obviously she’d drank too much or done something. Last time he saw her, she was at The Warehouse for the concert, but she hadn’t really drank since last year. “Where’d you find her? What do you mean you saved her ass?” Quill rattled on and on until Assad put a hand on his chest.

  Brock dropped Ren on her bed and stood to face Quill.

  “What the fuck happened you prick?” Quill finally concluded. “Listen, fairy dust.”

  Quill pulled back to smack him, but Assad caught his arm. “Not here. We need to figure out if she’s okay.”

  “Listen to your cock jockey, Quill. She showed up with a posse of Theta’s looking for a little, you know.” He held his hand up to his mouth miming a blow job.

  “You fucking asshole.” Quill went after him again, but Assad shifted to stand in front of him, blocking his forward attack.

  Brock narrowed his eyes toward Assad. “How’s his mouth? If it’s anything like his sister, you’re getting some fucking awesome head.”

  In one smooth move, Assad pulled his arm back and punched Brock.

  Brock staggered but didn’t go down. Quill froze, in complete shock. Was Assad defending his honor?

  Brock was, in a sick and demented way, the one who brought Ren and Jolin together through a blackmail plan that back fired. Ren had a thing for giving blow jobs. She used her talent in the same way Quill used he penance for sex. It got him a quick fix and made him feel in control. Brock used Ren to get what he wanted, and in return he had helped out with the rent, seeing as his dad had owned their rental. His goal was to land the head cheerleader so his resume would look impressive to a frat. Guess he got his wish.