Break my shell, p.6
Break My Shell, page 6
Vanessa cupped her hands over her mouth, staring at them as if they’d killed her beloved cat. “This is so unsanitary. There’s food here!”
Max licked his lips. “I know, I know, it’s my fault. But we were just making out. You kinda came in right in time, ma’am.”
Vanessa took in a breath of air so huge Dayton feared her lungs would explode. “Don’t you ma’am me now! I don’t pay you to... hide together and do this kind of stuff. You’re here to work! I was forced to serve customers at the restaurant while you were in here, having an unauthorized break?”
Dayton’s throat was so tight he found it hard to speak. When he finally found his voice, the sound betrayed just what he’d been up to. Raw and raspy, it sounded like evidence of his crime. “I am so sorry, Vanessa. This will never happen again. You know I’ve never—”
Vanessa held her hand up and interrupted him. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. You come to me for extra money just today, and then you slack off all evening? Get back to work, the two of you. I can’t do everything myself in this hotel! And this better never happen again!”
Dayton swallowed his panic, nodded, and rushed out, speeding past Kathy, past the door, and into the restaurant, which at this point resonated with yells of disappointment as the favored team lost a point on TV. He grabbed a napkin and rubbed it over his face, drying tears, saliva, and even spunk that could have drizzled out of his lips.
He wanted to disappear.
He’d had such a perfect record at the River Inn until tonight. Max was so bad for him. He couldn’t control himself around him, and his heart, which so recently had been beating with joy, was now flapping its wings like a dying butterfly.
He just wanted to die.
Chapter 5
Dayton sat in his armchair, with Cinnamon curled up in his lap, and was taking his time to recover after a long evening of work and unbearable embarrassment. A few times, Vanessa’s gaze had locked with his, and it was excruciating to sense her judging him.
Even though she’d known he was gay for a long time, up until now, he’d been the acceptable, unobtrusive, safe type of a gay person. Sexless. There to up the diversity rating at the inn and help Vanessa choose outfits (which he wasn’t even good at). But with Max in the picture, especially living in his room, things were getting much more complicated.
He’d tried to read, but with his mind buzzing like a school bus, he gave up and just closed his eyes, petting his sweet cat while listening to sad 90s songs. He was so over everything. He bet Vanessa had already gossiped about him with all the other staff, and they would pass it on to their friends and family, and next time Dayton went shopping kids would call him a cocksucker.
That was the kind of language kids used nowadays, right? Right?
The door opening without a knock startled Cinnamon so much he meowed loudly and scratched Dayton’s thigh before dropping to the floor and running off to his hideaway bed.
“Man, I’m pumped out. But it’s still better work than a prison kitchen where everyone is just trying to steal a knife at some point. You know what I mean?” Max came into the room with a dish towel still over his shoulder.
Dayton froze, as if Max was a boulder about to flatten him against the asphalt. Max never mentioned this kind of stuff. In fact, Dayton kind of expected him to have been out of danger, because there were special wards for gay men nowadays, right? It couldn’t have been that dangerous in there. And still, Max’s words made Dayton’s heart flutter with anxiety, even if it was way overdue now. “So... was kitchen duty dangerous work?”
Max closed the door behind him and frowned, thinking of his answer for a while. “Kinda. I had to be there early, so that was shit, but on the other hand, at least I was able to get my nutrition right-ish.” He patted his stomach.
Dayton licked his lips. “Was that legal? I mean... tampering with food.”
Max cocked his head to the side, as if not understanding the question. “You do what you gotta do. Getting more protein is not exactly smuggling drugs.”
Dayton felt a painful emptiness in his arms, where Cinnamon had been sitting just recently, and hugged a pillow. “What if you got caught? Wouldn’t that have added more years to your sentence?”
Max sat down on the bed, reminding Dayton that they’d be sleeping in it together again. And how was that supposed to work now that he’d allowed Max to fuck his mouth and then kissed him as if he wanted to heat up the cold room?
“I didn’t get caught. You gotta risk a bit if you want results.”
Dayton curled up. Bravery was the thing he admired most about Max, yet now that this kind of conduct came so close to him, now that it put him in trouble, he was not as sure of his feelings anymore. Maybe risk simply wasn’t for people like him? “How was your first day?”
Max exhaled deeply. “Long. But Kathy’s fun to work with. She’s so grumpy I can’t stop pulling her leg. Anyway, you ready to go for a drive?”
Dayton sat up straighter, anxious at the prospect of an interruption to his schedule of sulking, bathing, petting Cin, and dealing with uncomfortable questions. Not to mention that Dayton’s car was a piece of junk, which he only used when there was no other option left. “A drive?”
Max nodded eagerly. “There’s a whole box of rotten eggs in the kitchen and Kathy said I can have them. She told me where that idiot Greg lives. Let’s go there.” He grinned and got up with so much energy it was hard to believe he’d worked all afternoon and evening.
The chair sank threads of fabric into Dayton’s skin and kept him close. “What? W-why?”
“What do you mean why?” Max grabbed his jacket off the chair. “He’s been a shit to you today, hasn’t he? Kathy told me all about it. I’d smash his face in if I wasn’t tryin’ to be good.”
Dayton took in a deep breath, pinned in place like a spider about to have its legs ripped off one by one. “No... no, you can’t do that! He will know who it was, and we will get caught, like we got caught today, and police is gonna be involved. And I will die. I will,” he spewed out in one breath.
“What?” Max spread his arms, watching Dayton more carefully, which only made him feel more put on the spot. “It’s not like she walked in on you actually blowing me. It’s all good.”
Dayton untangled himself from the arms of the chair. “No, it’s not. She will be watching us now. And she might lower our wages as discipline. And she could tell people what she saw, and then everyone will know what kind of person I am!”
“The kind of person who has a super-hot boyfriend?” Max tried, but Dayton could see that he was slowly getting his point across.
Dayton took a deep breath and rubbed his face, even though Max’s comment did warm his soul for a second. He wouldn’t mind people in a gay bar knowing someone like Max chose him to be his boyfriend. Then again, maybe all those hot gay guys would just think it was some kind of pity relationship and try to steal Max away.
He’s never been in a gay bar, but he’d seen a lot of them on TV.
“I can’t stand this kind of stress. Greg is a shit, but it’s fine when I just ignore his comments. This is reality, and in my reality, I need to eat and not have anyone chase me down because I got out of line!”
Max’s shoulders sagged slightly. “So… you don’t wanna go egg his house? You could wear my ski-mask.”
Dayton slumped back into the armchair. “No. I’m not that kind of person. And it wouldn’t teach him anything anyway. He’d go to work tomorrow, and his wife would be left to deal with all that shit. We need to be considerate of our community here.”
Max put the jacket back on the chair, but the atmosphere in the room was getting denser by the second. As expected, Cinnamon was already inching toward the window.
“So you’re just gonna let him get away with the shit he said to you?” Max took a step closer, his large frame filling up the whole room. It was beyond frustrating that even now, disgruntled and frowning, he was so fucking hot Dayton could lay in bed and lick his abs for dessert.
Dayton swallowed hard, fighting to keep his hands from trembling. Trouble with Greg was the last thing he needed in his life. If he could turn back time, he’d have never done anything that would suggest he was gay, at least not until he left town. He would not have sung in the school choir, and he would have not worn skinny jeans. He’d brought it upon himself. “He’s just an idiot. You know what was shitty? School. He used to be really bad back then, but he’s matured. Bad jokes can’t really hurt me, can they? I mean, I need to give him some credit for changing as much as he has,” Dayton said, though the words seemed to come from someone else’s mouth.
But what was he to say? Max already considered him a pathetic case.
Max leaned against the wall right next to the armchair. “You went to school with him? What did he do then?”
Dayton scowled and pulled his hands into the sleeves of his hoodie. “Is this an interrogation? Doesn’t matter anymore. It was years ago.”
Max leaned over Dayton and put his palms on the sides of the armchair, trapping Dayton inside as he looked into Dayton’s eyes from just inches away. “Do you want it to be an interrogation?” he asked in that low, sexy voice that spoke of so many forbidden delights.
Dayton’s head sank between his shoulders, and he flinched, betrayed by his own body’s longing to go with Max’s lead. But he was a reasonable human being, and he would not be controlled by physical urges. There had to be something wrong with him that such things even triggered excitement in him, but he wouldn’t give in to them.
“No. I really had enough... excitement for the day.”
Max’s hand drifted to Dayton’s jaw, only reminding him how still it had kept him during the blowjob. “You sure? Because you look cock-hungry to me.”
Dayton twisted away from the touch. “I told you I need time. Why do you keep doing this?” he asked weakly.
Max backed away with a deep sigh, but when his fingers left Dayton’s face, it only created a wave of longing. “Christ! What do you want from me? Nothing I do is right. You seemed pretty eager a few hours ago. I thought it would help you chill out a bit.”
Dayton got up and stood behind the chair, needing a physical barrier between him and Max. “I can’t chill out. There is nothing but this hotel keeping me from sleeping in the street. And yes, I like you, but this is all too much. I can’t do this!”
Max chewed on those words. “You spent three years writing to me about just how much you do want this.”
Dayton didn’t like the way Max clenched his fists. It made him recoil against the wall, closer to the door. “Well, maybe I’m not ready. I understand that you’re... starved for sex, but if you can’t wait, maybe you should find someone else,” he said, growing unbearably sad as soon as those words passed his mouth. But that was the reality he was living, wasn’t it? A person had basic needs, and if Max had been deprived for so long, how could he focus on the man who constantly denied him what he wanted?
Max watched him like a bull about to charge, only making Dayton realize he’d never actually been beat up, or in a fight. What would he even do if Max decided to punch him? The guy was over six feet tall and a freaking ex-boxer.
But instead, Max turned around to the desk and ripped the corkboard with his own photos off the wall. “Fine! We’ll take it slow then and get fucking nowhere! You think I came here for a few fucks? That’s who you think I am?” He threw the board down to the desk and started ripping off the photos and snippets Dayton had pinned to it over the years. “I’m not gonna have this shit here, mocking me from the wall when you don’t even want me. This bullshit shrine needs to go.”
Dayton reached out toward him, shocked by the outburst of aggression and yet not trusting Max not to rip him apart like he had the paper, were Dayton to approach and stand in his way. The pressure in his chest became so heavy it might as well have been a black hole. “Don’t...”
Max picked up the photo with his mugshot and held it up for Dayton to see. “Why? So you can jerk off to this guy while giving me the cold shoulder?”
Dayton rushed toward the door, just needing to get out and go somewhere far away. He yelped at the unexpected pain in his arm but stilled when he suddenly found himself facing Max.
Max’s hand was steel around his arm. “The fuck are you going? We’re not done talking.”
Dayton flinched and closed his eyes, shrinking on the inside when fear stamped its claws into every inch of flesh on his body.
He felt sick.
Max stood there, watching him, breathing hard, his cheeks flushed, but no punch came. He let go of Dayton and slightly pushed him away. “Keep it then,” he growled and threw the photo onto the half-emptied corkboard.
Dayton gravitated closer to the door, not sure how to deal with this. He’d never had this kind of fight with a boyfriend. He rarely had any fights, usually preferring to go along with whatever the other person wanted than having to deal with the aftermath of a disagreement. His eyes gravitated to the board, where he’d collected memories for so long, and found himself mourning it already, as if it were a beloved pet that he’d just watched torn apart by a pit bull.
Max didn’t say another word. Tense and angry, he disappeared in the bathroom, leaving Dayton with the sound of water pouring in the shower.
Alone, Dayton dared to walk up to the board and unpinned the rest of the pieces himself, gathering them into a little pile, which he then slid into a Ziplock bag. He wasn’t even sure anymore if the man in the pictures was the same man he’d fallen so hard for. Then again, Max was everything Dayton had expected him to be and more. It was he who wasn’t blond, wasn’t doing all that well for himself, and wasn’t half as sexually forward as he’d suggested.
He added the letters he’d received from Max to the bag, and pressed it against his chest. With the board sadly dwelling on the desk, it felt like taking the ashes of a dead lover out of a crematorium.
There wasn’t anything left to do or say, and he exited, so utterly miserable he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to return to that graveyard of a room ever again.
The inn was quiet at this time of night, so he walked the corridors and eventually gravitated to the empty restaurant. He knew the building so well, he didn’t even have to switch on the light, but when he entered the large room cluttered with chairs and plaster casts of classical sculptures, the sense of loneliness hit him like an anvil.
Max had been a dream that might have never come true, but he was someone Dayton had kept in his mind in the worst of times. Now that he was here, smashing into Dayton’s already-difficult life, that glimmer of impossible hope for the future crumbled, leaving his heart desolate.
Guided by the bright moonlight, Dayton approached one of the tall windows and sat on the floor next to it.
Next to the radiator, he got at least that bit warm, and he started looking through the photos to check which ones were still intact, but all it did was made him stare at the vision of a man he’d fantasized about for so long.
Max had been his hero after the news story broke of a boxer who’d killed three men when they attacked him for being gay. They had weapons, clearly intended to leave permanent injury or even murder Max, so he’d defended himself. But when Dayton and Max began exchanging letters, and Max turned out to be more than a criminal and a meathead, Dayton’s hero worship turned into something much deeper. He’d just never thought they’d actually meet, actually get to say a word face to face. That certainty was what gave Dayton the courage to open up about his sexual fantasies in the first place. It was his dirty little secret. Everyone meeting him every day at work would think he was a polite, non-intrusive, kind gay guy who lived with his cat when in fact, he’d led a double life, exchanging increasingly filthy letters with a convict all the way in Texas.
And now Max was here, and that outlet was gone.
He looked through the pieces of paper—some still fine, some torn up, some crumpled, and he just wanted to cry because he hadn’t taken scotch tape with him. That was how low he’d fallen. Useless, trapped in a town that didn’t want him, in a job where he wasn’t appreciated, and with a man who did not respect him. But then, he hadn’t given Max all that much to respect, humiliating himself with graphic depictions of how he wanted to be used for Max’s pleasure.
Now that the reality of his fantasies was within his grasp, he wished for nothing more than to retreat into the predictability of his sad life, back to a time when Max’s letters were there to console him but never came with demands of intimacy or reciprocation. Locked behind bars, Max was a safe man to fantasize about.
He pulled out one of the letters and unfolded it, watching the tight writing in the moonlight. Max had told him that he couldn’t always get as much paper as he wanted, so he’d learnt to squeeze the words into tiny rows.
“Maybe one day I’ll get released and you could come over and greet me outside? It’s a long shot, but I like to think about it being possible. I’d come to you, but maybe they wouldn’t let me leave the state for a while. But if they did, I’d come visit you instead. Though we’d lose so much time on travel. If you came here, I could kiss you right away. Fuck, babe, we’d rent a room in a motel and we wouldn’t leave it for a week. I’d fuck you at least three times a day, but you’d be begging me for more, wouldn’t you?”
Dayton bit his thumb, remembering how this passage had affected him when he’d first read it. He took his time responding with a letter containing many pages in which he indulged in this fantasy. He’d daydreamed about Max’s arms around him, him, Max standing up to Greg to protect Dayton. Leaving town with Max and spending the rest of their lives at a warm beach, where all the shit Dayton needed to deal with in real life would seem insignificant.
He wished for Max to unleash all their fantasies on him and just float on the waves of passion, and love, and trust.
In reality, their relationship was crumbling before it even began.
