Chrysalis, p.18
Chrysalis, page 18
“His name is Chaos, actually.”
“What the fuck kind of name is that?”
I smiled a little at the jealousy in his tone that he was desperately trying to hide. “I didn’t cheat on you then, and I didn’t cheat on you now.”
“Cheat on you now would imply that we were together, Cross, and we are certainly not….” I sank to my knees between his outspread legs as he watched me with eyes gone wide, clearly shocked into silence by my actions. I smoothed the flat of my palms up his thighs and felt them flex involuntarily under my fingers. “What are you doing?”
“That should be fairly obvious,” I said on a huff of laughter.
I started working on the drawstring of his sweats—which, Jesus Christ, he’d knotted—and he watched me silently. Or my hands, rather. He reached for my hand, and I stilled, taking a break on trying to solve the Rubik’s cube that was his drawstring. He traced a gentle path across my bruised knuckles.
“More?” He questioned the fresh marks.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“It looks like you’ve been in a fight with a brick wall.”
“Oh.” I blinked. “Then…it is as bad as it looks.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask,” he said slowly as he released my hand. “Should I ask?”
I bit my lip, more than a little tempted to say no. “Probably not,” I finally said. “But if you do, I’ll answer.”
“Truthfully?”
“As possible.”
“I’m not sure what that means.”
“It means that I worked with some very dangerous people in the past. And those people are looking for me,” I said carefully. “It means that there are some things about me that you probably don’t need to know. It’s just…safer that way.”
“If I was concerned about what was safest for me, I would’ve kept driving when I saw you on the side of the road.”
From his tone, I wasn’t sure if he was glad that he’d stopped or not. His unreadable expression and hooded gaze didn’t give me any clues, either. I reached for his drawstring again, and he batted my hand away.
“I don’t want to be coaxed into a better mood,” he muttered as he started undoing the knot himself.
I sent him an amused look. “Then why are you helping me?”
“Because every time I have the opportunity to have your mouth on me, my principles take a hike,” he said crossly.
That wasn’t my problem. My only problem right now was how much of Gray’s cock I’d be able to fit in my mouth with a sore jaw. One of Chaos’s goon squad had gotten in a good punch, and I hadn’t even noticed until the ride home. I gripped his thighs, waiting patiently for my reward as Gray freed himself from his sweatpants…then not so patiently as he proceeded to take a long-ass time.
“For God’s sakes,” I finally complained. “I’ve opened Cadbury eggs faster.”
His mouth quirked. “You ate one with the foil on. It was disgusting.”
I glared. I also spit out the foil after I’d sucked off all the candy. He knew that. Did I probably eat a piece of the foil accidentally? Sure. But jeez, I wasn’t an animal.
When he lifted slightly to push his sweatpants over his hips and down to his thighs, all was forgiven. I pushed them down further, over his knees and then down and off his legs because I didn’t want even the slightest bit of fabric between us. His cock jutted up against his shirt, curving up from the thatch of blond hair at his groin. I sat on my heels for a few seconds, just enjoying the sight of him hard and wanting, completely at my mercy.
“The shirt, too,” I said.
He didn’t hesitate to pull it over his head and toss it over the couch carelessly. He wasn’t as cut as I was, and his abs weren’t as defined, but I certainly had no complaints. I ran my hands up and down his chest, the skin satiny smooth under my fingertips. His breath hitched slightly under my touch, and I hid a grin. He so got sensitive everywhere when he was aroused—every zone became an erogenous zone. Usually, when we had sex, he spent half the time trying not to come…which was hilarious when you were the person determined to make him come.
I took his length in my hand, and he hissed as I started jacking him slowly. My path was dry, but it only took a few seconds before the precum started leaking out of the head of his dick. I couldn’t resist flicking my tongue out for a quick taste, and he swore as more slipped out of the slit. We both watched as it slid down the column of his dick. I waited until it reached my hand to move again, sliding my fist up in one smooth, tight glide, my gaze locked on his.
He bucked up with a whimper, and I tsked. “Down.”
He sank back down, and I continued to work my hand rhythmically, not letting up for even a second. I slid my other hand down to touch his balls, all satiny and warm on my fingertips. Judging from his choked shit and the way he slammed his head back on the couch, he was a big fan of my technique.
It only took a minute before he was biting his lip, those gorgeous, perfect-for-cocksucking lips that I could never get enough of. I leaned forward and sucked his full bottom lip into my mouth before kissing him thoroughly. I didn’t hold back. I wasn’t sure when I was going to get another chance. So I kissed him like I wanted, one bleeding into the next and the next. It was deep and filthy and carnal because I needed it that way. Judging from the way he responded so eagerly, he needed it, too.
His mouth slid off mine, and he muttered something against my cheek. “What?” I asked, a little dazed.
“I said I’m about to come.”
I squeezed his balls with my other hand, and he groaned. “Not yet.”
“I swear to God, Cross,” he said fervently. “I’m gonna kill you one of these days.”
I chuckled darkly. “Get in line, baby.”
I sucked him into my mouth, and he let out a hoarse curse as I started a bobbing rhythm. My time-honored technique involved trying to fit as much of his dick as I could in my mouth and then letting him slide out again. End of technique. His thighs were tense, and his stomach muscles were working on overdrive as I swirled my tongue under the head of his dick. That had always been an especially sensitive spot for him, and he canted his hips desperately. I brought my arm down across his thighs to hold him down with little effort.
He was finding it too hard to keep his eyes open. Every time they fluttered shut, he’d remember, and they’d snap open again. That was a good thing because I wanted his eyes on me when he came. I wanted to see how they looked filled with lust and dark with want. And this time, I wouldn’t forget. Not one single second.
I let most of him slide out of my mouth and used my other hand to work his spit-slicked length expertly. He didn’t tell me that he was coming because he didn’t need to. Every part of his body was bowstring tight as he hurtled toward the edge. I renewed my efforts, suctioning the head of his dick like I was a human Hoover. He let out a helpless groan as he gave up on trying to keep the orgasm at bay. I was a few seconds ahead of him, working my dick with my other hand while I splattered come across the carpet. And then he was coming down my throat, and I swallowed him down eagerly like I couldn’t get enough.
I didn’t let him out of my mouth when he was finished, licking and sucking at him gently until I was good and ready to let him go. I gave his balls one last little tug for good measure, and a little more come dribbled out of his dick. I gave it a little lick because I couldn’t resist.
He gave a full-body shudder. “Fuck, you’re so good at that.”
“I know.”
I didn’t bother to move from my position between his legs, resting my head against his stomach. He took that opportunity to sink his fingers into my hair and rubbed my scalp. I hummed with pleasure, and he chuckled. “You okay down there?”
“Mmhmm.”
He massaged my scalp for a few more minutes before he gave my hair a little tug. “Come up here and let me return the favor.”
“You’re a little late,” I informed him with a yawn. I looked at his stomach, where I’d missed a little here and there. That finally inspired me enough to get off the floor with a low groan. Excessive usage of the knees in sex always seemed like a great idea until afterward.
I headed into the kitchen and grabbed a few paper towels and dampened them. I passed the refrigerator and then doubled back to grab a bottle of water, which I just about emptied in one swallow. I tossed it in the recycling bin and then headed back into the living room. Gray hadn’t moved an inch, and that included tucking away his dick. As I peered at him a little more carefully, I realized he’d fallen asleep.
I chuckled. Vintage Gray. I wiped him off and tucked him back in his pants. Then I helped him lay on the couch lengthwise, despite his annoyed grumbling. One arm dangled off the edge of the couch, but when I tried to tuck it back under him, he swatted me away. I let out a huff of amusement as I draped a soft afghan over him and swiped his hair back from his face, resolving not to stare too long. Just a few seconds. A minute. Maybe five.
I’d like to say I had a good reason for what I did next, but I didn’t. I joined him on the couch. It took a bit of maneuvering, and I banged my elbow pretty good, but I managed to slide in behind him. He unconsciously shifted to get more comfortable, his back plastered to my front, and I slipped my arm around his waist lightly. His hair was in my face, tickling my nose, but I was too content to move.
I wasn’t sure how long we laid there, but I felt the exact moment that he woke up. It didn’t exactly take any super observational skills on my part. He breathed deeply and yawned…and then stiffened as he came to awareness. Suddenly, it was like holding a mannequin. Actually, no, because at least the mannequin wouldn’t be trying to ease out of your hold. It would have the good manners to lay there with a painted-on smile.
I sighed as he inched his leg away from mine. “Just until morning. You don’t owe me anything, but…you can give me that, can’t you?”
I thought for a few seconds that he would stay. But then he shook his head and eased away. I felt the sting of disappointment as my arm slid off his waist and he got off the couch. I used the suddenly empty space to flop on my back. I folded my hands on my stomach.
“I can’t give you that without giving you everything else,” Gray said. “But I won’t say I regret what we did. It should give me closure, at least.”
I gritted my teeth. “Yeah? So glad I could help.”
“You don’t get to be angry with me.” His voice was calm and unwavering, and I immediately felt ashamed because I knew he was right. “This is the second time I’ve let you send a wrecking ball through my well-ordered life, Christian.”
And the last. I heard the unspoken part of that sentence as clearly as if he’d shouted the words in my face.
I stared at the ceiling, done in some fancy, beautiful Italian décor method that I couldn’t quite remember. All I knew was that the realtor wouldn’t shut up about it when she’d showed us the house. I squinted as I chased the tails of that memory, but the rest of it was determined to remain in the shadows. It was hard not to get frustrated. In the general scheme of things, small encounters like that didn’t amount to anything. But those memories were mine, and I wanted them all. My fingers stole to my rubber band, and I popped it once quietly.
Gray wasn’t quite finished with this unwelcome post-coital talk from hell. “Maybe you don’t remember everything, but I do. I remember waking up sometimes to an empty space beside me in bed, and your side would be cool to the touch. I would wonder just where the hell you’d gone in the middle of the night. Insurance emergency?” He laughed, and it wasn’t a nice sound. “You would always say you went for a run to clear your head.”
“Maybe I did,” I said quietly.
“Yeah? How about the last-minute ‘business’ trips? Sometimes I’d come home from work, and you’d just be gone, leaving me a note on the fridge. Be back in five days. Love you. Chris.” He shook his head. “I won an award for outstanding patient care at work, and you couldn’t even make the ceremony.”
“I couldn’t help it if I had to travel for work. I guess.” I frowned. It was a little hard to argue about something I’d done wrong when I didn’t remember the event in question.
“You weren’t on another business trip. When I got home, you were there with an apology and flowers. You told me that you didn’t want to show up to the banquet late.”
It was probably more like I didn’t want to show my face at something highly publicized. There would’ve been pictures. Maybe even a reporter or two covering the event. The ability to blend into the shadows was an asset without measure. A full-sized spread of Gray with me on his arm in a monkey suit wasn’t a good look, even as a feel-good article in a local news rag.
“I felt like you were hiding something from me. Something big.” Gray shook his head when I didn’t offer any denial of the events as he remembered them. “In a way, I would’ve been relieved if you were just cheating on me with Andy… Chaos,” he corrected with a grimace.
“I did not cheat on you!”
We both blinked at the volume of my denial. I winced. “Sorry. But I did not cheat on you. I got proof of that from the horse’s mouth. Trust me, if you knew Chaos, you’d know that he would relish the thought of hurting me by telling me that I did.”
“I don’t know Chaos, and I have no desire to remedy that. And frankly, it really doesn’t matter.”
I sat up slowly because I didn’t feel comfortable having the rest of this conversation lying down. My skin felt too tight, my eyes hot and dry. I could feel the last dredges of sand drifting out of the hourglass of my relationship with Gray. I tried to flip it over to start my time again.
“Maybe I don’t remember all of that. But I remember how it felt to come home to you. I remember how you used to hold me together when I felt like I was flying apart. When things had gone south at work and I didn’t know which end was up, I came home to you. You made everything…everything….” I searched in vain for the right term to make Gray understand how much he meant to me—how much he’d always meant to me.
“Bearable?” he asked softly.
No, that wasn’t it at all. “Meaningful,” I said. That didn’t quite cover it either, but it was closer. “No matter what else was going on, you were real, and you were mine. My anchor.”
He scoffed. “How could I be the anchor? I didn’t even know where we were going.”
I swallowed hard. “Sometimes the anchor only knows that it has to keep the ship from drifting away when the ship needs it most.”
“It was a hard job.” His voice was subdued.
“And I’m sorry for that,” I said, my voice cracking. “Baby, I never meant to hurt you.”
He stared at me for a few moments, long enough that I thought I might be making some headway with him. But his words sent my hopes crashing back down to Earth. “Those words make fantastic song lyrics, Chris. But in real life, sometimes sorry just isn’t enough.”
The sand in the hourglass ran out.
I blew out a breath that ended on a watery chuckle. “This may be the worst after-sex conversation I’ve ever had. I mean, I don’t remember most of them, but this has to rank in the top three.”
He didn’t bother to address my nonsense. Instead, he leaned down and kissed me, once. Twice. And then a third that lingered long enough to let me know he was saying goodbye.
“Anyone can stumble into quicksand once. It takes a damned fool to tie a brick around his ankles and jump in again.” He held up a hand when I opened my mouth to speak. “I’m going to bed.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”
I didn’t know what else to say. I had no better plan than some good, solid, grade-A begging. There was no need to get my knees dusty if Gray wasn’t going to change his mind.
“I have work early in the morning, and I won’t be back until late.” He bit his lip. “I don’t think you should be here when I get home.”
I sat there for a few moments, trying to reconcile how we’d gone from cuddling on the couch to “I don’t ever want to see your face again.” I mean, he didn’t say those exact words, but damn, I could read a room.
I’d like to say there was a drop of indecision in Gray’s gaze as he stared down at me, but there wasn’t. He was resolute. He was waiting for something, and it took me a minute to realize that it was an acknowledgment of everything he’d said. I gave the rubber band on my wrist a few anxious pops. And then I did the hardest thing I’d ever had to do.
I let him go.
When I nodded woodenly, he turned and left the room.
16
I left Gray’s the next night. He’d said he would be back late, but late with him could mean anything from late night to early in the morning. At around eight, I figured I’d pushed it as long as I dared. I didn’t have a solid plan as I walked down the sidewalk, duffle on my back, feeling a little sorry for myself. It took me a few blocks to remember that I did have one other friend in this city. I only hoped Nick was in a generous mood.
I floundered for another block, trying to remember where he’d said he lived when we met at the café. A big blue truck passed, jogging my memory, and I snapped my fingers. The blue building in the warehouse district. 1200 block.
The bus let me off about a twenty-minute walk away from his building. I used half that time coming up with something to say. His neighborhood was decent, quiet, and backed up to a commercial plaza. The building next door was under construction, but the activity had died down for the night, and all that was left was abandoned equipment.
Nick’s apartment was in a five-story building that could be classified as hipster chic, with giant metal doors and hammered metal mailboxes. The converted warehouse had previously been used to store industrial paint. The owners had broken it up into ten good-sized apartments, two on each floor. A glance at the mailboxes showed me that Nick lived on the top floor.
The building had a strange-looking elevator—some kind of lift with manually closing doors that I couldn’t quite figure out. No matter. I hiked up the stairs. His unit was at the end of the hall, so I shouldered my duffle and headed that way.
