“Shut up, Delia.”
Amory looks from one to the other. They sit on the couch. Quinn’s tucked under his arm, housing a giant sub. “Do I want to know?”
“Probably not.” Baylor keeps hanging them. “At least, Quinnie doesn’t want you to.”
“Now you have to tell me.”
“Nope. Quinnie can if he wants to.” She and Delia look at each other and crack up.
Quinn looks down. Amory hugs him closer.
Afterwards, Wills plays elf with a giant grin and drops stockings in their laps. And holy shit, it’s the best stocking Amory’s ever gotten. Ellis stuck to socks and some candy and typical stuff. Amory gets a Broadway Christmas tree ornament, some gloves you can use with your smartphone, a special, handmade ornament with his name on it and “Tybee,” lemon tea and honey for his voice, and at the very bottom, wrapped up specially, two cans of Modelo. “The rest is in the fridge.” Wills smiles. “We couldn’t fit it all in your stocking.”
Amory grins. “This is the best stocking I’ve ever gotten. Thank you.” He feels warm, and loved, and — noticed. Like they know him, like they know what he cares about and took the time to think: Amory needs honey and tea for his voice. Amory always orders Modelo.
Quinn tears into his stocking like a kid. It’s mostly gamer stuff: notebooks and pens and a rolled-up Mario Bros. shirt he’s been eyeing forever. Plus a stuffie Yoshi. “Y’all are awesome.” There’s also, at the bottom, a fucking My Little Pony. He beams.
“You and Isa used to play them endlessly.” Wills laughs. “I like, saw them in Target and totally had to.”
Isa squeals at hers. “I got one with wings, Quinnie!”
They hug, and it’s clearly this special moment for the two of them, something no one else can touch, something Wills remembered and noticed and gave them. Amory looks down so no one sees the tears pricking his eyes. He can take the gifts for himself but seeing Quinn so happy does something to him, especially after the few days he’s had.
Baylor’s surrounded by presents. “Okay, for not knowing, like, a damn thing about me, I got earrings and comfy socks and stuffies and awesomely trashy books? You people are amazing. Can I like, be your BFF forever?”
“Oh god no.” Quinn drops his head in his hands.
“Oh hush, Quinnie, you love me.” Baylor kisses his cheek.
“You can be my other BFF.” Isa kisses her on the cheek. Oh god, those four: add Isa to Baylor and Delia and Quinn. “And be nice, gay boyfriend.”
“You have Audie.”
“But you’re my gay boyfriend. C’mon. Let’s go make you pretty for Amory.” She drags him out, sucking on a candy cane.”
“Aw fuck me, she’s gonna put eyeliner on him.” Amory slaps himself on the forehead.
“Oh dude, guyliner.” Henry falls over backwards.
“You two and your guyliner fetish.” Calhoun gnaws at some licorice.
“Calhoun and I should put some on just torment you. C’mon, baby boy.” Audie drags him out.
This is going to be delicious.
Baylor marches them out to the beach and calls down some crows. Yeah, it’s impressive. But Amory wishes she would stop tormenting Quinn. People don’t realize how sensitive he is. He’ll get in your face, he’ll throw down for the people he loves, he’ll toss snark all afternoon, but he crawls into his bed and cries about it afterwards with his bear. Amory shudders to think how lonely, how awful it must have been for him before Ellis. He suspects Delia knows, which is why she doesn’t join in as much. Isa certainly does; she doesn’t instigate it. Baylor has no goddamn clue. But when she talks about her crows, she’s not the girl teasing Quinn anymore. She’s smart, she’s in charge, she’s somehow touched by something, something magic, almost. Amory can’t help but admire it, for everything she’s done.
Amory stares. “I thought you were kinda vapid.”
“Yeah, a lot of people make that mistake. Like they do with Isa. Not so much Delia, she has a stronger personality and doesn’t squeal so much. They tend to think Quinn’s stupid too.”
Amory shakes his head. Yeah, people make that mistake about Quinn all the time. They don’t realize he’s up in the bedroom reading War and Peace and having intelligent discussions comparing Melville’s concept of the wilderness in Moby Dick to Dickey’s in Deliverance.
When they get back into the main room, Quinn’s just coming out of the bathroom, shirtless, all twinked out in his eyeliner and black nail polish. Amory doesn’t try to act like it’s anything that it’s not. “Q. Downstairs. Now.” He ignores the laughter. They walk to their room hand-in-hand.
“I want you again.” Amory breathes it hot in his ear. “I want it like we always do it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
They shed their clothes and curl up in bed under the covers. Quinn presses close. “I need this.”
“I know you do, Q.” Amory finds his lips and kisses him gently. Quinn has the best lips for kissing, soft and pillowy, and just them moving against Amory’s stiffens him. Amory sucks his lips, top and bottom, nipping the slightest bit. Quinn sighs and wraps around him. They’re close, close; Amory strokes down the length of Quinn’s side, over his soft skin, the bumps of his ribs, that perfect narrowing from chest to hip. He hardens more, especially with Q crowding closer, kissing harder, wrapping a leg over his and rubbing their cocks together. They catch deliciously; their balls touch, soft things brushing against one another that only inflame Amory.
“God, I fucking love you in eyeliner.”
“You always look good.”
“I love you twinked out. Will you put lube on me and wrap your hand around my cock with those black fingernails so I can watch?”
“Yeah.”
They slick one another, and oh, but it’s pretty, dark nails on a delicate but masculine hand jerking him. “What d’you want?” Amory asks.
Quinn smiles a little. “You. We’re both covered in lube. I want it so bad it won’t take you long to get me ready.”
It doesn’t take him long, either. Quinn wants it but he doesn’t beg like a little bitch the way he does for Ellis; he asks but there isn’t that note of submission in it. He finally spreads his legs, and Amory asks, “Okay?” Quinn nods. He slides inside, ah god that tight ring that seems he’ll never fit through until he does, oh he does, so perfectly snug on his cock. He goes slow, waits until he hits the right spot, then lies on top of Quinn and gathers him into his arms.
“Good?”
“Always good.” Quinn nuzzles him. His arms have already twined around Amory.
“You want me to do it so we both go fast, or you want me to wait?”
“Hold me for a little bit?”
Amory smiles some. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He goes gently in Quinn while they kiss and touch one another, stroking and petting. “Love you.”
“Love you too. I needed this.”
“I know you did, baby.”
“I hurt. I needed you.”
“Shhh. You don’t hurt now. It’s just us.” Amory kisses him, long and slow, which only stiffens him more inside Quinn as he moves slowly between those slick walls, that tight ring tugging on him. “It’s just us, sweet boy.”
Quinn relaxes for him. “That’s it.” Amory strokes his soft blond hair. “Shh.” He sucks just under Quinn’s ear. Ellis won’t bitch about a few marks. He can’t hold out much longer. “You want me to?”
“Please, Amory?” Quinn wraps his legs around him. “Please?”
Amory holds Quinn close, buries his head in his neck, and starts those short, sharp thrusts right against Quinn’s prostate that’ll bring them both to the edge. Quinn’s cock slips between them and he moans. Amory puts a hand over his mouth out of reflex and keeps thrusting. Quinn’s nails dig into his back. Fuck, but people will see. He’s so close, oh god, so close, and Quinn tenses under him. “Please, please please,” he’s begging under Amory’s hand. Amory nips his neck, and he freezes, arches, and spurts betwe
en them, silently, mouth open in cries he won’t make. The rhythmic tightening pulls Amory with him: he thrusts deep, clutches Quinn, and shoots inside him, god he loves to come in Quinn. He’s never come bare in anyone else, and it’s so good to feel the come pumping into him. Plus his thighs might get sticky after and that’s so hot.
They won’t this time; Quinn will clean up before they go upstairs. Dammit.
They hold each other, quiet, together. Quinn needs it and Amory, as much as he wouldn’t ever tell Quinn, needs it just as much. He loves Quinn like his own self, and it hurts to see him hurting. Amory has to hold him. He has to comfort Quinn to comfort himself.
They stumble back up to the hot tub and settle in. Everyone smirks. “And where were you?” Lucky grins. Has to be Lucky, because number one, Delia’s on his lap, and number two, Thor wouldn’t say it.
Amory looks him up and down. “Me? I’s fuckin’.” He leans back. They grabbed the Grey Goose and the scotch on the way in.
“Quinn, you’re one of my best friends in the goddamn world, but you put on that eyeliner and I’d hit that.” Henry takes a drink from his water bottle.
“You already did, Culliver. In like, tenth grade.”
“Okay. Let’s be clear here. There was no ‘hitting that.’ There was ‘tentative makeout session in the barn,’ during which neither of us knew what the fuck we were doing.”
Everyone howls.
“What?!” Henry drinks some more water. “You’ve been friends as long as we all have, you’re gonna mess around. Lucky dated Isa in 9th grade.”
“Only second base, thanks.” Isa steals the Grey Goose.
“I tried so hard for third but she held out.”
“Let’s see.” Henry appears to think. “Wills and Crispin don’t count because they’ve been in love since like, kindergarten. Quinn hooked up with Calhoun all through senior year. I made out with Calhoun a few times. You throw Bastian McCarthy into the mix and shit, we need a goddamn flow chart.”
Isa and Henry pointedly don’t look at each other, Amory notes.
“Can we like, stop talking about my high school sex life?” Quinn cuddles deeper into Amory.
“Oh, c’mon. We’re talking about everyone’s. Don’t be such a little bitch about it.” Delia rolls her eyes. “What is up with you, Quinnie?”
“You and Baylor keep picking at me.”
“We’re teasing you.”
“Yeah, well, stop it.”
Audie and Calhoun appear and splash in. “And where were you two?” Amory hands off the Grey Goose to Calhoun, who takes a shot and hands it back.
“Napping,” Calhoun says at the same time Audie says, “Fucking.”
Everyone cracks up, and Audie breaks out the pot. They’re all doing the puff-puff-pass to the left at this point. Quinn finishes shotgunning Amory and laughs at Audie. “You’re so Snoop Dogg.”
“Dude, if y’all’d’ve tried this Alaskan Thunderfuck I had before I came, oh my god. It was so good.” He pauses. “Did you know ‘y’all’d’ve’ is one of the few contractions with three apostrophes? You all would have. ‘Y’all’d’ve.’”
“Oh my god, it totally is.” Henry’s jaw hangs slack. “We say it all the time.”
Everyone gets quiet.
“Oh Jesus Christ in a goddamn manger, you people are so stoned,” Calhoun bitches. “At least drunk people get loud. Ellis would kill your ass if he knew how high you were.” Calhoun puts his hands on his hips.
“Oh baby, don’t play policeman.” Audie drops his head in his hands.
Amory laughs. “Ellis would be high along with us. He probably has some of that Alaskan Thunderfuck at home.” He pauses. “Man, that’s either the name of a strain of weed or the best metal band to ever come out of Anchorage.”
“Ellis smokes?!” Calhoun’s eyes get wide.
Quinn and Amory crack up.
Henry says something about pizza. “You are going to eat pizza for dinner.” Quinn puts his hands on his hips and glares at Isa.
Isa’s eyes get wide. “I am not! I hate pizza.”
“You are.”
“I am not!”
“No, you are. This bullshit has to stop. You’ve got to eat real food.”
“But I don’t want pizza!” Isa starts to look panicked.
“You eat pizza or I tell.” Quinn crosses his arms. Ah, fuck. Too far. He’s too drunk.
“You wouldn’t!”
“I totally will!”
Audie looks over. “What’s the deal?”
“Quinn says he’s going to tell everyone — this thing I do not want him to tell people — unless I eat pizza for dinner! I hate pizza!”
“Quinnie, shut up.” Delia glares.
“Yeah, shut the fuck up, Quinn.” Henry clenches his teeth, because he’s got as much to lose as Isa over this. “She can have a salad like she always does.”
Then, what the blue fuck, Calhoun splashes him. “Hey, Quinn. Shut the fuck up, before I shut your motherfucking mouth for you.” Calhoun never says “fuck.” Like ever.
Quinn glares at his best friend, who Amory’s fairly certain has never spoken to him like this in their entire lives. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“You’ve never punched a goddamn thing in your life, Chatterton.”
“You wanna see me start, Rutledge? Leave Isa alone.”
“Calling in that favor, Audie. Make your boyfriend calm the fuck down.”
Audie crosses his arms. “No.”
Ah, fuck.
“Well, Calhoun, guess what your boyfriend said last night?”
Quinn needs to shut the fuck up like, yesterday.
“I doubt I care.”
“He said, direct quote, ‘I wouldn’t let many men top me, but my knees would hit the ground for Ellis.’”
Calhoun laughs. “I think everyone in this hot tub would drop to their knees for Ellis, you blond bastard. No fucking shock. That he said it out loud though? Fairly hilarious. So leave Isa alone.”
“I was just trying —”
“You were threatening her. Quit it.”
Quinn turns and splashes his way out of the tub. Amory gives everyone what he hopes is an “I am so fucking sorry my boyfriend is being a raging asshole” look and follows him.
3
Quinn
Quinn tosses off his wet bathing suit and pulls on pajama pants.
Amory stomps in. “What the fuck was that?!”
“I was trying to get Isa to eat and everyone fucking ganged up on me!”
“You maybe think threatening her wasn’t a good idea? Then doubling down on it was a worse one?”
“Yeah, and Delia had to jump in —”
“Delia was the least of your problems, son.”
“I was trying to help!”
“You owe Isa, Henry, and Calhoun massive apologies. Probably Audie too.”
Quinn wants to go home. But if he says that, he and Amory are going to get in a giant fight and he’s too tired for it. He really just wanted to help and it totally backfired. He fucked up. It’s Christmas, and his friends all hate him, and he wants to kill his cousins, and really, crying seems the best solution to everything.
So he curls up in bed, pulls the covers up over his head, holds his bear, figures he can deal with it later, and cries. Amory tries to cuddle him and Quinn pushes him away. He doesn’t deserve it. He must eventually fall asleep because Amory’s waking him up. He says there’s cold pizza but Quinn doesn’t want any. He wanders up to watch a Marvel movie because Amory tells him to. He doesn’t look at Calhoun and he doesn’t look at the girls and he sits in the back and stays quiet. He doesn’t talk and when it’s over, Quinn goes to bed. Amory tries to talk to him and cuddle him but Quinn ignores him. It’s Christmas and everyone hates him.
When he wakes up, Amory’s gone. Amory always wakes up early. There’s nothing to do but go upstairs. He doesn’t bother with breakfast. Everyone’s making Christmas tree ornaments. Amory doesn’t kiss him
good morning or even say good morning. No one does. Quinn sinks a little bit. Amory’s busy with a glue gun.
“Make one with all three of our names on it. We can give it to Ellis.” Amory doesn’t look up from his hot-gluing. He remembered his Santa hat this morning. So did Quinn. So did everyone else, apparently.
“Handwriting sucks. You do it.” Amory has no idea how bad Quinn’s handwriting sucks. It’s pure awful. He’s had bad handwriting since he was a little kid. Printing, cursive — it all sucks.
“No, I’m gluing shit.”
“Seriously.”
“Do it.”
Quinn sighs and writes out “Ellis, Amory, and Quinn” in gold glue. It looks like a second grader wrote it. And oh fuck, Calhoun’s standing next to him and he’s the last person Quinn wants to fucking see right now. This is Christmas. Christmas is supposed to be all fun and mistletoe. And it was and now it just sucks.
“Quinn.” Calhoun touches his shoulder, and he turns. “Write me an ornament.”
“Why? My writing sucks.” He sounds angry. He can’t help it. He has to be angry before Calhoun is.
“Because it reminds me of us writing notes in class when we were kids.”
Quinn smiles suddenly. “Yeah. We used to do that, didn’t we?” They had. It had saved him so many times. He’d come out when he was sixteen, and some days had been so bad after that. They’d push him. They’d write FAGGOT on his locker. They’d throw his books in the trash. And Henry wasn’t always around to stop them. The whispers were the worst: Faggot. You take it up the ass, Rutledge? Go lick someone’s asshole. You’re gonna die of AIDS. And then Calhoun would pass him a note. He wouldn’t even know about the whispers or the books or the pushes; he’d just hand Quinn a piece of paper covered in his sorority-girl handwriting. It would be about something stupid: how a teacher had chalk marks on his back or wore the same tie three days in a row; how they only had this many days til the end of school and don’t think he didn’t count; there was new graffiti in the bathroom. Just dumb stuff, but it didn’t matter. Someone cared enough to write it to him. Someone cared.
Christmas Cousins: Quinn, Ellis, and Amory (Southern Scandal Book 3) Page 5