by Z. Allora
Two Can Be As Sad As One
Standing outside the bathroom door, Jackson crushed his own anguish and added a bit of sexy to his tone. “Are you sure you don’t want me to join you in the shower? I’m pretty good at getting dirty while soaping you clean.”
Corey ran his hand down Jackson’s arm and tried to give him a smile but failed. “Maybe later. Right now I just want to wash that fucker off my body.”
The random Dom in the club hadn’t touched either of them, so Corey’s lie was blatant. Translation: I’m upset, and I don’t want you to see me like this.
Jackson stepped back. “Okay. I’ll make some popcorn and we can stream something when you’re out.”
Corey nodded and shut the bathroom door.
Jackson attempted not to let the lock clicking into place push him to the other side of the wall Corey built. Corey somehow believed Jackson would be safe from the devastation he experienced if he put distance between them.
No such luxury. Jackson also mourned the absence of someone he didn’t even know. It killed him. Why couldn’t they find their third mate? He tried to keep a positive attitude, but it was wearing him down.
The heart-wrenching sobs started before Corey turned on the shower.
Jackson clenched his fists but was able to restrain himself from punching the doorframe. The last time he’d ended up in a cast, and that had made Corey feel even worse. Besides, a broken hand did nothing to ease the shards of misery stabbing into both of their hearts.
He had to do something, if only to let Corey know he wasn’t alone. And Jackson was also reminded he wasn’t in this by himself either. He shouted through the door, “Butter popcorn or kettle corn?”
Corey sniffed and then cleared his throat. “Kettle corn.”
Pretending his lover’s teary voice didn’t shred him, Jackson teased, “Oh, you want it sweet with a little salt, just like you taste.”
“Yup… maybe we can do a taste test later.” Corey’s tone didn’t meet the standard of joyful or sexy, but he’d earned a pass for trying.
Jackson tried to inject cheerfulness into his own voice. “Sounds good.”
Fuck our lives! When the man you adored kept falling apart and you couldn’t stop it—kettle corn. He stomped to the kitchen and threw a bag of kettle corn in the microwave. While it was spinning, he poured Corey a glass of his cotton-candy wine. The stuff smelled like diabetes in a bottle, but Corey loved the sweet flavor. He grabbed a lager out of the fridge for himself.
Pulling the dark blue velvet blackout drapes in their media room closed, he sighed, then grabbed the remote before collapsing onto the sofa.
Corey had picked out the multiposition sectional, or their private sex playground, as he called it, in a deep sky blue. The piece had a flat area the size of a queen bed, with several recliners attached with massaging parts. Lush throws and pillows were in matching blues and greens. The sectional had drop-down tables, pop-up cup holders, as well as theater lighting underneath.
The dark blue velvety wallpaper matched the thick carpet. When the door was closed, all the light vanished like they were in a theater.
After queueing up the program they were binge-watching, Jackson went back out to make more popcorn, then brought everything back to the sectional.
Corey dragged his red-eyed self into the room. He wore his Binary Code Heartbreak T-shirt. It had a bunch of ones and a lonely zero. White letters scrolled across the bottom, reading: If You’re Not The One, You Feel Like A Zero.
The lounge pants Corey wore signaled trading blowjobs was tabled… for now. Good. Maybe they could talk about what happened. Their therapist—Beau had insisted they start seeing one—said Corey needed to work on allowing himself to feel the loss of not having their third mate and to acknowledge the pain and not ignore the hurt. Jackson needed to support him and do that as well. He had to deal with accepting he couldn’t make everything better. But hiding behind sex was much easier.
Crashing down next to Jackson, Corey tucked his head into Jackson’s shoulder. “Everyone has their mates. What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing. It sucks and hurts, but it’s simply fate. When it’s time, our mate will come to us.” On their good days, Jackson believed that, they both did, but those times were getting further apart for Corey.
“I know.” He snuggled closer to Jackson and then pulled the green fleece blanket over his head.
Jackson peeked under the fleece. “And when he does, we probably shouldn’t vampire him.”
Pushing down the blanket, Corey did his best glare. “We meaning me? Well, then he better not be an asshole calling either of us ‘little bitches.’”
“Agreed.” Jackson combed his fingers through Corey’s curls. He loved that Corey kept his waves shoulder-length, partly so it could be pulled while giving head but mostly because Jackson adored running his fingers through the strands.
Scoffing, Corey added, “That guy tonight was a dick. Why do some Dominants think being rude is part of the job description?”
“Because they have no real power and seek to grasp at anything that affords them the appearance of control.” Jackson may have stopped aging physically at twenty-three, but he had celebrated his forty-seventh birthday this past year, and he was getting too old to deal with ignorance. Corey deserved better than a wannabe Dom, if that was even what he wanted. It seemed like Dom-sub was never the true fit for Corey….
Corey exhaled hard. “I probably shouldn’t have tooth-pinched him.”
“The correct term is bite,” Jackson pointed out, because Corey had left his teeth marks in the guy’s dick.
“Couldn’t we say I confused my teeth with my tongue?” Corey’s eyes regained a little of their mischievous sparkle.
“No, we may not.” Jackson pressed his lips together, hiding his grin. He didn’t want this happening again.
Folding his arms over his chest, Corey frowned. “He was a demanding asshole.”
“Agreed, but we used to be able to laugh off such wannabes, not leave indentions on their dicks.”
Corey sighed. “Deserving as it might have been—I know.”
“Good. I’ll accept that.” He added the slightest bit of steel into his voice just to provide some stability.
Corey nuzzled. “Mmmm, I forget you can be quite the strict Master yourself when you put your mind to it.”
Not really. Jackson simply tried to give Corey what he wanted—boundaries and stability—along with love. When they were with a third, Jackson got off on being used as an instrument to bring Corey what he needed. He’d always been a team player, so having help calling the plays was something he looked forward to.
Corey sat up. “That guy was not for us. He couldn’t dominate himself out of a paper bag. Besides, he was too old to be our mate. He wouldn’t be able to keep up with us.”
“Don’t be ageist.”
Could they have met their mate and not known it?
Corey rolled his eyes. “I’m not being prejudiced against people of a mature age. Okay fine, what I said came out wrong, but regardless of his age, that man was an idiot and not the Master of me. But I mean I don’t think someone of his generation would understand us.”
“So you think we should limit ourselves to people of our chronological age?” An interesting concept, and appealing to have a shared sense of the world. Coming of age in the ’90s came with certain baggage and filters—
“I don’t know. Ignore me.” Corey took a sip of his wine.
“Never.” Jackson needed him to know even though they didn’t have their third mate, Corey did have him, and Jackson would always have his back.
Corey shifted and stared at him with a frown. “You know, I really love you.”
“I know, and I love you. It’s shitty sometimes, but you and me, we’ll get through this.” He believed that, but there was no denying a piece of himself was missing, and he hated not being able to fix all of Corey’s issues. The absence of their third mate seemed to be riding him even m
ore keenly with each passing week.
“Yeah… um, now if I recall, you said something about a taste test.” Corey jumped up on the sofa, into a standing position, his feet on either side of Jackson’s knees. He shifted so his everything was directly in front of Jackson’s face.
“Once again you’re avoiding your feelings by focusing on sex? You know what Dr. Patel would say… and our doc here would agree. You—”
Corey pulled the elastic of his pants down, allowing his soft cock out. He slid into Jackson’s mouth. “Shhh, don’t talk with your mouth full.”
Jackson chuckled around Corey’s cock. The fact Corey wasn’t hard spoke to how shaken he was. Well, if his mate needed a little distraction from life, Jackson would provide it.
He sucked Corey all the way in. Corey’s cock was a grower, not a shower, so Jackson was able to swipe his tongue across Corey’s balls. Breathing through his nose, he kept licking.
“Mmmm, fuck that’s good,” Corey muttered as his body started to respond to Jackson’s attention, and soon Corey’s erection was challenging the back of Jackson’s throat to a sword fight.
Jackson gripped Corey’s hips and eased him back. He glanced up at Corey, who loomed over him full of confidence, and based on their history, his eyes sparkled with sexy ideas.
Corey used his big toe to hit the recline button on Jackson’s seat. He pulled back, turned, and crawled so his face hovered over Jackson’s lap. “I want to participate in the taste test too.”
“Of course. I love when you put your years of yoga to good use.” Jackson pushed his own pants to the floor and kicked them off.
“Downward dog with a bone… times two.” He pressed his dick back between Jackson’s lips and used his impressive arm strength to hold the position while he captured Jackson in his mouth.
Oh God!
Corey knew how much Jackson loved to be deep-throated. Jackson would never get used to the immediate slide to the back of Corey’s throat. No pause, no hesitation, just hot, wet, and tight. Corey had lost his gag reflex long ago and was able to swallow around Jackson, making it a blowjob fuck.
Some of Corey’s weight rested on Jackson, but mostly he held himself up to bob his head.
Jackson cupped Corey’s rounded ass as he rhythmically sucked.
Tensing, Corey moaned around Jackson. He didn’t thrust, but he wiggled, making his dick move around Jackson’s mouth, pulling his attention back to the hard situation.
Corey needed something, so Jackson smacked Corey’s ass. Instead of the expected stronger suction, the hot haven that had been escorting Jackson to heaven pulled back. Corey grimaced over his shoulder. “No, don’t. I don’t want that.”
Jackson caressed and soothed the red handprint. “Sorry, I thought—”
“It’s okay. I know, but I don’t want that… not now.”
Nodding, Jackson waited.
“I don’t think I want to go into Behind the Red Door anytime soon… either.” Corey’s tone turned somber and filled with hurt.
“That’s fine, but do you want to talk about it?”
“No, I don’t want to. Let’s finish. I need to come.” Corey turned and sucked Jackson back into his mouth.
Jackson sucked Corey but had to work to get him hard again.
Soon Corey stopped and asked, “What if I’m losing the ability to orgasm?”
This worry had crept up more and more. The doctor believed that wouldn’t happen since they still had each other, but the what-if was deeper than a pleasurable release. Jackson needed Corey’s come to function. Corey needed his ejaculate too. Since they were mates, they needed each other’s essence, and without it they would cease to exist. Pushing aside his own concerns, he tried to point out general reality. “Corey, you’re upset. Sometimes that makes it difficult to come.”
“Well, it can’t. You need me.”
“And I have you. Let’s relax a bit.” Jackson teased Corey’s crease. He licked a finger and circled his hole.
Corey moaned and thrust his dick back into Jackson’s mouth as he took Jackson into his. He dragged his lips up and down at the same pace Jackson sucked.
Tantalizing Corey’s hole until he clenched as if he was trying to capture his finger, Jackson pressed his fingertip in and pulled it out. He continued to shallow-fuck Corey, hoping to send enough sensations to release him from his thoughts.
Corey groaned and finally grunted, filling Jackson’s mouth. As usual Jackson didn’t have to chase his orgasm. He let Corey’s taste set him off.
After Corey swallowed and licked Jackson back to reality, he somersaulted to the floor and readjusted his pants. He tossed the bag of popcorn to Jackson and opened the kettle corn one.
“Yeah, we can just go to the glory hole room or something. That way I can focus mostly on you and put a wall between me and the potentials….”
Jackson pulled his pants back on. “Whatever you need…. So about that taste test?”
“Oh, right. Well, I forgot to pay attention, so we may have to do another one.”
“Any time, my love, any time.” Jackson pulled Corey into their TV cuddle position and turned on the television. He let the mindless comedy relax him, but it didn’t really solve anything.
3
Bygones Should Stay Bygones
Corey jogged down the basement steps to the storage room under Club Zombie’s bar. He and Jackson had used the space as their own personal love shack more times than he could count.
He spared a glance at the neatly stacked boxes of booze and bar supplies, sighing in relief that the monthly inventory was done. Sitting at one of the desk chairs, he shifted and enjoyed the delicious hurt in his butt. Jackson had given him quite a workout a couple of hours ago. Being ready when the moment struck served him well, and for him and Jackson, those times hit fast and frequently.
Grinning, he shuffled the handcuffs and paddles around the top desk drawer to put back the bottle of strawberry flavored lube Jackson had used earlier today. As far as he was concerned, preparation was halfway to orgasm.
His gaze landed on the custom calendar Jackson had gotten him for Christmas three years ago. Jackson had filled the months with pictures of their life, and Corey couldn’t bear to part with it.
Even before all this zombieness turned his world upside-down, he had dreamed of being someone’s one and only. He had hoped they could give him boundaries and take him to task when he purposefully stepped over the line. Why he needed that remained a mystery.
In his fantasy, this was not only someone who would spank, tease, and deny Corey while he was forced to provide pleasure until they made him come like crazy. He wanted someone to help Jackson love him more than he loved himself, someone who kept boundaries and gave consequences—domestic discipline some called it. He called it the top of his wish list, along with someone to take the pressure off of Jackson.
Jackson deserved things Corey couldn’t provide alone. He needed the help of a third to ensure Jackson got everything he desired. Corey could play the selfish brat to perfection, but his true unhappiness was in the fact Jackson didn’t have all he needed to be happy… and Jackson’s happiness meant the world to Corey.
He’d made a couple of missteps in his past, but who could blame their high school self for being in love with a jerk? Besides, now he had Jackson, which was more than he’d ever hoped.
Hell, on the eve of his nineteenth birthday, he’d had nothing. The month before, Corey’s parents, good Southern Christians that they were, had tried to send him to conversion therapy camp. When he refused, they kicked him out. In that short month, he became a master of couch surfing. But on his nineteenth birthday, he had overstayed with his last hookup, so needed to find a new place. Even though he’d been unexplainably exhausted, he’d hitched a ride to a dance club named Club Zombie. He’d needed to attract a partner who wouldn’t mind a sleepover guest for a night or two.
That evening, when Beau and Lafayette approached him, he didn’t question their promise of a night in
a luxury apartment. Of course, after they explained about being a zombie—which clarified his constant exhaustion when he got close to his nineteenth birthday—that apartment became his home, and they became the accepting family he’d always wanted. He wasn’t the only one Beau and Lafayette had rescued. There was a whole estate filled with newbie and more mature zombies. Without the safe haven of Club Zombie, Corey wouldn’t have known what to do.
He flipped the calendar to the month of August. The photo was taken about year after his arrival. The smiling picture of him and Jackson had been snapped right before their exchange. He had felt unstoppable and so close to Jackson.
The previous day, Corey had been shocked when Doc asked him to go with Lafayette and Beau to pick up a soon-to-be transitioning zombie—Jackson Davis. Jackson, two years younger and a grade behind him in high school, had never followed up on the long stares he had given Corey. But going on this rescue mission would allow Corey to explore where things could go between them.
When Jackson refused to go to Club Zombie with strangers, Corey stepped out of the car and encouraged him. During the car ride back to the club, as exhausted as Jackson was, he’d made the effort to reach over and hold Corey’s hand.
That was it. Corey fell in love… hard. Before they even got to Club Zombie, he knew what was between Jackson and him was forever.
He had gone from being ecstatic at finding his mate to being devastated by them not being complete. The raw incompleteness ate a hole in his gut and filled his mind with doubt. There had to be something wrong with him not to satisfy Jackson, but Doc had explained that he and Jackson had a third.
Again I’m not enough….
Back to the present, Corey pushed the self-pity to the back of his brain and headed upstairs to the wonderful man who was waiting for him.
As Corey gazed across the bar, Storm walked in along with his three—count them, three—mates, who surrounded him with love. Hard not to hate zombies who found their mates immediately.