When Eddie would have taken his hands from the headboard to help Andrew undress him, Andrew issued a sharply worded order for Eddie to keep his hands where he’d put them.
“Bossy.”
“You love it.”
Eddie bit his lip. Maybe I do love it. His thoughts raced: I should be angry, insulted, offended, unmanned. But instead…I’m at peace.
Andrew unbuckled Eddie’s belt and unzipped his jeans. He pulled them off Eddie’s legs, taking his shorts and socks with them, discarding them all in a heap on the floor.
Eddie’s cock sprang up from a thatch of curly pubic hair, dark and desperate.
“Oh, much better.” Andrew wrapped Eddie’s cock in his fist and jacked him a couple of times. He didn’t take his eyes off Eddie’s as he sank down onto all fours and nuzzled Eddie’s cock like a cat playing with its prey. “Beautiful, beautiful Eddie Vasquez.”
Eddie gave up a choked, embarrassed noise. Whatever he might have said was cut off by the feel of Andrew’s mouth on him. Hot, wet suction. Eddie’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he arched into bliss, gripping the bed frame so tightly he worried he might break the damn thing. His muscles clenched all over as he surged upward, sinking his dick into the soft paradise of Andrew’s mouth over and over until Andrew pulled off, leaving Eddie’s cock cold and damp. He rolled a condom down Eddie’s length and smoothed it, making Eddie’s blood hum with anticipation.
Andrew made short work of his own preparations, a quick swipe of slick, and then he was looming over Eddie, hovering, sinking down Eddie’s cock with piercing sweetness even as his ass clenched and fought the intrusion.
“Ah.” Andrew froze, hips shifting minutely as he pressed down. “God.”
“You’re so tight,” Eddie hissed.
“You’re not small, and I’m fucking picky.” Andrew’s body fought…and fought…and then gave in just a little. With a grunt, Andrew sank farther, leaning in for a kiss as he took Eddie deeper. “Not. Small.”
Eddie shifted his hips, testing. Getting comfortable. Andrew’s ass was hot, clenching torture. He wanted more. He wanted to move. He started to reach for Andrew’s hips. “Christ. I need—”
“Keep your hands on the headboard.”
Eddie ground his teeth and put his hands up again as Andrew arched and rocked experimentally.
“Yeah…like that,” Eddie sighed.
Andrew put the flats of his hands on Eddie’s chest. He rose and sank again, eyes closed.
“Yeah, papi.” Eddie bit back a curse. “That’s what I need. Ride me.”
Andrew was flexible enough to bite one of Eddie’s nipples playfully.
Eddie lifted his hips again. Andrew came down hard and ground his ass on Eddie’s thighs, taking all of Eddie’s cock, trapping him there. He smoothed his hands over Eddie’s chest, circled his nipples, and then pinched them lightly.
“Don’t forget who’s got the reins, horsey.”
“Ah, yeah.” Eddie closed his eyes. Andrew’s mouth closed over his skin again, first one nipple and then the other. Andrew worked his way toward Eddie’s neck, nipping his skin, sucking hard enough to bring up a mark. “Yeah. Like that.”
Andrew set up a rhythm, then a hard, pounding ride that sent Eddie’s heart rate galloping along with him. Eddie lost all sense of time as he drowned in sensation. He raised his knees to brace himself, digging in to get traction with his toes.
The hum that began in his blood started singing in his spine, at the base of his cock, in his balls and oh, yeah, his prostate when Andrew’s dick slid slickly by on its way to his goddamn heart.
“I’m close,” Eddie gasped. Sweat soaked his hairline, his balls felt ready to burst, and his hands clenched convulsively where he’d kept a tight hold on the headboard per Andrew’s command. “I’m so goddamn close.”
Eddie watched Andrew rise and fall, watched him take those last, deep thrusts. Andrew gripped his dick, stripping it ferociously, face already contorted in ecstasy. He was…amazing.
Ah, God. Look at him.
The hot, musky odor of their combined sweat, the look of pleasure/pain on Andrew’s face, the needy little gasps he gave when his release grew imminent—all of that boiled up in a rush of passion Eddie had never experienced before. Andrew convulsed around Eddie’s cock, pulling spasming waves of pleasure like electric shocks from deep within his guts.
“That’s it, papi,” Eddie cried out. “Oh God yeah.”
Eddie’s whole body tensed with pleasure while ribbons of Andrew’s cum spattered his chest, his chin, and his face. Droplets fell on his lips, and he drank them in like bittersweet rain. Eddie’s cock felt twisted and spent. Andrew’s shivers made its softening length slide around inside the condom, warm and slick with jiz.
Perfect…perfect.
Andrew’s upper body draped over Eddie’s while they were still joined. He huffed exhaustedly. “Baby.”
“Baby?” Eddie smiled at that. He nudged up with his hips. “I feel like a baby to you?”
“Baby buffalo.” Andrew gave Eddie’s biceps another hard squeeze. “Baby bull. Baby—”
“Manatee,” Eddie supplied.
“Shut up.” Andrew cuffed his arm. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous.”
“So are you. Señor Toppy Pantalones.” Eddie snorted an embarrassed laugh. “I used to know a stripper who called herself Streusel Topping.”
“Gorgeous.” Andrew peered down at him. “But crap at afterglow.”
Eddie opened his eyes. “What do you need?”
Andrew reached between them to pull himself off Eddie’s softening cock. He threw the spent condom over the side of the bed. “Put your arms around me.”
“You never said I could move my hands.”
Andrew’s brows shot up. He gave Eddie a lopsided, happy little smile. “Oh, you are perfect, aren’t you?”
“That’s what I keep saying.”
After Andrew gently took Eddie’s hands off the bed frame, he lay back down and pulled Eddie’s arms around him. Eddie curled around Andrew, watching while traffic moved past on the street, casting waves of moving light through the blinds.
Eddie held him close and felt around for Andrew’s feet with his. He massaged the backs of Andrew’s calves with his toes. “This more what you had in mind?”
Andrew answered with a delicate snuffle. Eddie tilted his head to get a good look at Andrew’s face.
He smiled into the fragile light.
Andrew was already asleep.
Chapter 17
On Saturday morning, Eddie found Andrew’s compact parked in front of a typical suburban fake Tudor two-story. For the first time since they’d agreed to meet there, Eddie acknowledged he was apprehensive. Andrew stood on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, looking up at the house. He was dressed in a pair of paint-spattered jeans and a UCI hoodie.
Andrew looked like he was bracing himself for something unpleasant.
Something about the situation felt…funny to Eddie. It felt not right. The atmosphere reminded Eddie of his job—of arriving at the scene of an unexpected death. It reminded him of aftermath.
He got his travel mug of coffee and picked up his backpack from the passenger seat. He’d packed himself a change of clothing because he’d believed Andrew was inviting him on an impromptu camping trip or…something else. Something not this.
Up and down the street, people peered at them from behind window blinds. That’s what clinched his sense of unease. People seemed to be watching. Waiting.
“What’s up?” Eddie asked.
“I—” Andrew turned as if he hadn’t heard him drive up. He tilted his head to peer at the house next door and called out, “Hey. Nosy much?”
When Eddie followed Andrew’s gaze, the neighbor’s curtains twitched closed. “Can you tell me what we’re doing here?”
Andrew toed the ground. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“Someone who’s not me?”
“Someone besides you. I’m supposed to meet
her here. She called and said she’d be a few minutes late.”
“She?”
“A doctor.” Andrew pushed his mop of hair away from his face. “A psychiatrist.”
“Okay.” Eddie leaned against the fender of Andrew’s car. “But isn’t it little early for couples therapy?”
He’d meant that as a lighthearted joke, but it was plain Andrew didn’t take it that way. “Actually, after you get a load of this, you might think we’re beyond help.”
Eddie’s chest tightened at his words. “It’s time you told me what this is all about.”
“I’m getting to that.” Andrew took his hand from his pocket to steal Eddie’s travel mug. He took a deep swallow of coffee and sputtered, probably because it was still extremely hot. “This isn’t easy for me.”
Eddie nodded. He waited.
“This is my father’s house.”
Ah. “I see.”
“He—” Andrew swallowed. “He’s got problems with the neighbors because he has trouble letting things go, and now the city is involved. I was here this week for a few days, trying to help him organize, but it was a total washout. Today I’m bringing in reinforcements.”
“I’m sorry. That must be tough.” Eddie was ashamed by a brief flash of relief. Andrew wasn’t mad at him or—
“It is.” Andrew gripped the cup with both hands. “I can’t seem to get through to him. His house is at stake. They’re coming back with a warrant to search the place if he doesn’t clean the yard. They’ll red tag it if they see the inside.”
“Your father has an immediate problem,” Eddie summed it up. “And you’re trying to help him. What does he say about that?”
“He doesn’t want my help. He’s adamant that he doesn’t have a problem. It’s everyone else’s problem: prying neighbors, interfering bureaucrats, meddling kids.” Andrew shook his head. “Like Scooby Doo… My dad’s the weird neighbor guy yelling, ‘Get off my lawn.’ He’s the guy with trash packed up to the ceiling. He would have gotten away with it if it wasn’t for those meddling kids.”
Eddie’s concern was for Andrew. “You’re tired.”
“I haven’t been sleeping too well.”
“So you’ve asked for professional help?”
“Yes. He has to accept help or move.”
“I see.”
“No…you don’t see. You can’t possibly see.” Andrew handed his coffee back. “You can’t even begin to imagine, because it’s unimaginable. It’s—”
“I’ve worked with hoarders before, Andrew,” Eddie said gently. “Several of them.”
“Wait.” Andrew turned to him, surprise written in his expression. “I thought you cleaned up crime scenes. Biohazardous waste removal. I thought—”
“I guess you never Googled our Web site.”
“No.” Andrew’s brows drew together. “I didn’t. You clean up places like this? People with…problems…like my dad’s?”
Eddie heard the shame in Andrew’s words, and he wanted to reassure him. “Yes. We’re usually called in when the person is found to be deceased, although we’ve done a couple houses in connection with a personal organizer friend of Gabe’s.”
Andrew scrubbed his face with the heels of his hands, effectively hiding his expression from Eddie. “It’s disgusting, isn’t it? It’s repulsive.”
Eddie shrugged. “It’s difficult. But it’s an illness.”
“I spent all day yesterday worrying if I should share this with you. I almost called you to say forget it fifty times. I don’t want you to see this. I don’t want you to know this about me.”
“It’s your dad’s house. It’s not about you. The city has given him a deadline?”
“Yes. And he just…he’s been dragging his feet, and now it may be too late.”
“Has he always been this way?” What had Andrew’s childhood been like? Eddie’s mom wasn’t Martha Stewart, but he’d always come home to a tidy house. He was allowed to bring his friends over.
“Ever since my mother passed.”
In Eddie’s experience, there was usually something specific that made people lose control of their lives like that. “That was when you were a kid?”
“Yeah. Things were never neat after that, but four years ago my dad’s bookstore went under, and since then he hasn’t bounced back. He was never really that worried about organizing things except at the store, but…God.” Andrew glanced at the house. “I come from this place. I could…I could become this.”
“That’s not a given, Andrew.”
“I could.” Andrew sliced the air impatiently with his hand. “All it takes is that emotional banana peel: one bad professional setback, one personal tragedy, one bout of depression, and it could be me. I may not have Googled the Brothers Grime, but I did look up hoarding. It runs in families like eye color. It’s part of the whole OCD package, which I have some experience with, and—”
“Settle down.” Eddie caught Andrew’s hands in his. They felt cold to him, so he chafed them to warm them up. “Relax.”
“Don’t you see? I’m showing you this knowing you ought to run. You should look at my dad’s house and flee because that could be my future.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way. Deep down, you know that. If you’re worried, then you need to address it with the shrink you called for your dad. This isn’t inevitable.”
“It’s so awful.” Andrew pulled his hands away. “Maybe you should go. The doctor is an expert. I got her name from the county Web site. Apparently there are a lot of resources. Maybe we can handle this by ourselves after all.”
“I should let Gabe know about that Web site. He would probably kill to put Grime on whatever lists they have.”
“I hate this. I don’t know if I can stand for you to see it.”
“Then why did you ask me to come here?”
“Because—” Andrew hung his head, laughing sadly. “Because I want to believe in magic. Because if there’s anyone in the world I’d go out on this kind of emotional limb for, anyone to whom I’d reveal the worst I have to offer with my fingers crossed that it isn’t a fucking deal breaker—it’s you.”
“Aw, come here, papi. This isn’t a deal breaker.” Eddie pulled Andrew into his arms and rocked him from side to side. “You could probably start the zombie apocalypse, and it wouldn’t be a deal breaker.”
“Christ.” Andrew buried his head in Eddie’s shoulder while Eddie stroked his hair.
“I worked a cat-hoarder house once.” Eddie shivered from the memory, which was still fresh enough to make his skin crawl. “Not pleasant. Does your dad have pets?”
“I don’t think so.” Andrew bit back a sob. “Not intentionally, anyway.”
“Deep breath.”
“Okay. I’ve got this. I’m okay for now, thanks to you.” Andrew seemed to draw strength from Eddie. “You’re an awfully good man, Eddie Vasquez.”
“So are you, B. Andrew Daley.” As soon as it was gone, Eddie missed his contact with Andrew’s skin. He reached for Andrew’s hand to prolong it, lacing their fingers together, giving Andrew’s hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “You’re smart to bring in a therapist. Someone who can help your dad make a plan. Why don’t you introduce me to your father at the same time, and we’ll see what he says.”
“You’re not running off now you know I come with a fuck ton of crazy?”
“Not yet,” said Eddie. “But I reserve the right to change my mind if your crazy is completely incompatible with mine. You forget I’m a gay man from a big Catholic family. Blood matters in my family, and they stand by me when it counts, but they don’t always put out the welcome mat. Some of them…they’re old-school.”
“Noted.” Andrew nodded. “But see, that’s what I think we might have in common. It’s family. You do what you have to do.”
“Exactly.” Eddie watched a big red pickup roar around the corner and park behind his car. “I’ll help your dad however I can because I respect that. Family. I’ve got your back, Andrew.”<
br />
“You have no clue how glad I am to hear that. Thank you.”
ANDREW HELD EDDIE’S offer of help in his heart like a perfect memory, filing it away under Good Things even as he watched Dr. Frost jump down from her truck and bound over to where they were standing. He guessed she was around fifty, although she gave the appearance of a much younger woman. She was slim and small in stature, probably no taller than five-four. She wore khaki pants and a button-down shirt and one of those fleece vests in a shade of light blue that did nice things for her eyes. She was tan, fit, and fair with perfectly streaked blonde hair held back in a swingy ponytail, and happy blue eyes. Just seeing her made him feel better.
“Hi.” She shoved a leather portfolio under one arm and offered her hand. “Which one of you is Andrew?”
“I am.” They shook hands. “This is Eddie. Eddie, this is Dr. Frost.”
She turned her attention to Eddie. “Hello, Eddie, you look familiar to me. Have we met?”
“I don’t think so, Dr.—”
“I’d like you to call me Pam, okay?”
“Sure.” She shook his hand firmly and turned back to Andrew. “Does your father know we’re coming?”
“Yes.”
“And he realizes the seriousness of the situation.”
Andrew glanced toward his father’s house. “I believe he does, yes.”
“Do you think he’s maybe just stuck? That he’s on tilt and simply isn’t facing reality?”
“I honestly don’t know what to think.”
“Well. I’d like to talk to him first, if I may, so…” She started up the pathway. “Let’s go see him and get a feel for what’s what.”
“Thank you.”
They got to the front door and rang the bell. Andrew watched Eddie, who stood waiting patiently.
Eddie is such a decent guy.
When Andrew’s father didn’t answer the first ring, Dr. Frost—Pam—shot him a guarded look. Andrew rang again and knocked for good measure.
Andrew started to sweat after another minute passed. He prayed to whatever gods were listening that he hadn’t got Dr. Frost and Eddie there that early on a Saturday morning for nothing.
Eddie: Grime Doesn’t Pay: The Brothers Grime, book 2 Page 13