by Nell Iris
He smirks. “You left the door unlocked.”
“I did not. I never do, you know it.”
He doesn’t answer, just slowly drags his gaze over my body, undressing me with his eyes, making me itch for a shower even though I had one less than an hour ago.
I cross my arms over my chest—but it’s more like a defensive hug than an offense—and stare at him, hoping that the glare will hide how rattled I am.
I know the door was locked; neither Pippin nor I ever leave the door unlocked. I also know I made Dave give me back my key when I threw him out, so how did he get in? “What are you doin’ here?” I force out.
He takes a couple steps forward and I back away. “I missed ya, Buck. I’ve been thinking about coming by for a long time. And then I saw you at the diner and couldn’t let you go without talking to you.”
“Why?”
“Aw, come on, Bucky. Don’t pretend you haven’t missed me, too.”
I haven’t thought about him for even a second since I ran out on him at the diner, and I realize I forgot to tell Pippin I met him. “I haven’t.”
I suppress a shiver. Having him standing here in my living room freaks me out and I want him gone. But I can’t think of a single thing to say or do. I’ve always avoided confrontation at all cost. Even when it’s smirking at me and invading my privacy.
“You’re lying,” he says and steps closer, making me take another step back. “We had something special, don’t try to deny it.”
The sound of the bathroom door opening makes me jerk.
“Ashley? You okay?” Pippin’s voice is apprehensive.
“Yes,” I yell, a little shriller than I would have wanted.
“Ashley?” Dave says with a sneer and a raised eyebrow.
“It is my name.”
Pippin steps into the living room and takes in the scene before him. He narrows his eyes—the movement is so slight I doubt anyone else but me would notice. Then he plasters a fake smile on his face and crosses the floor until he stands next to me. He wraps his arm around my waist and brushes a feather-light kiss on my cheek.
His lips are soft. Full of care. Causing a bolt of electricity to rush through my body. His closeness soothes my frazzled nerves a little.
“Ashley. You didn’t tell me we were expecting company.” He turns toward Dave, an innocent look on his face.
I grunt, trying to find words—any words—but Dave beats me to it.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the hobbit.”
What the…? The jerk is forty years old; is it too much to expect that he’ll grow up and stop acting like a bully?
Pippin chuckles. The sound is so obviously fake I can’t help grimacing, but a quick glance at Dave’s scrunched face tells me he doesn’t realize.
“Yes. Because teasing someone who’s actually named after a hobbit is very unusual. No one in high school ever thought of making fun of me for that.” Pippin’s voice drips of sarcasm, and when I sneak a glance at him, he’s smirking, looking like he’s got everything under control. He sneaks his hand under my hoodie and caresses his thumb over my skin.
Dave’s eyes darken, and he purses his lips. “What the fuck is he doing here, Buck?” He glares at me as though he’s got every right in the world to me and my home.
“Isn’t the question what you’re doing here?” Pippin asks. “I’m pretty sure Ashley didn’t invite you.”
“I didn’t.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Dave widens his stance and juts out his pelvis. “The grownups are talking, kid. Run home to your whore of a mom and leave the adults alone.”
“Hey!” I snap, but shut my mouth when Pippin gives me a reassuring squeeze. I wish Dave would go away, but somehow Pippin’s presence makes me feel a little calmer. As though I can take a step back and let him handle the situation. I know I shouldn’t. I should be the one handling Dave; I’m much older than Pippin, and Dave is my mess.
But Dave entering my home uninvited—how did he get in?—has paralyzed me. I doubt I could even call 911 if I wanted to.
Would either of them notice if I snuck out and hid in the bathroom?
“Have you gotten all the insults off your chest now?” Pippin asks. “Or are there more you’d like to add? Bastard? Lowlife? Idiot? Go ahead, you have my attention.”
Dave opens and closes his mouth in his best fish imitation. Then he sneers, lip curling. “Really, Buck? You couldn’t find a real man to fuck so you had to rob the cradle?”
Pippin tuts and holds up the index finger of his free hand. “All right, let me make sure I’ve got this straight. Hobbit.” He keeps counting off with his fingers. “Mother is a whore. Robbing the cradle.” Pippin looks at me. “Did I miss something, honey?”
My mouth dries out.
Honey?
Honey? “I don’t think so,” I croak.
Dave’s face turns redder by the second. “Are you just going to accept his attitude, Buck?” He takes a couple steps in my direction. “I mean, I know you’re a wimp, but I didn’t expect you to accept this disrespect.”
His closeness makes my skin crawl. Pippin stiffens, lets go, and steps in front of me, as though he’s trying to protect me.
My hands and feet start to tingle, and I need a minute to work through what’s going on. Pippin acting like my shield is completely unexpected. We’ve gotten close over the weeks we’ve spent together, but I would have never anticipated this. And I would have never expected the sense of security it fills me with, the warmth it blankets me with.
When Pippin speaks, his voice is controlled and so polite, a southern mama wouldn’t have any complaints. “I’m sorry, Dave, but you just crossed the line. Even the son of a whore knows better than to insult their host. I suggest you leave now.”
Dave is a few inches shorter than Pippin, but while he’s not as wide as I am, he’s more muscular than Pippin. But there’s iron in Pippin’s spine. And his voice may sound jovial, but there’s steel there, too. My soft, happy Pippin is suddenly a protective Mama Bear.
“What right do you have to tell me what to do?” Dave jeers.
“I already told you.” Pippin steps closer. His posture makes him seem ten feet taller than Dave. “I’m welcome in this house. You’re not. I even have the key to prove it.”
“I have a key, too!” Dave yells, making me flinch.
“How?” I ask, my voice rough, barely more than a whisper. “I made you give it back.”
Pippin holds out his hand to Dave, palm facing up. “Sounds like you have a key to return.”
Dave sputters and huffs and turns on his heel and starts to walk out.
“Stop!” Pippin raises his voice for the first time. “Give back the key before you leave.”
Growling, Dave shoves his hand into his jeans pocket and fishes out a set of keys. After fumbling for what feels like forever, he throws the key on the floor, and stomps out of the room. A second later, the door slams shut. The house rings with the noise.
The tension bleeds out of my chest and the knot in my stomach unfurls when Pippin and I are finally alone. My knees buckle, and I sink onto the couch. My veins throb and my scull aches and I feel as though my muscles are dissolving under the pressure.
“I’ll be right back.” Pippin jogs out of the living room. I hear him lock the door, and a few seconds later, the cushion next to me dips as he sits. His shoulder nudges me, while his thigh presses against mine.
“Are you okay?” The gentleness in his voice is like a caress to my sensitive soul.
“I should be askin’ you that.” I clasp my hands, trying to stop them from shivering.
“Why? It wasn’t my ex who was in your house uninvited.”
“No. But it’s my job to take care of you.” I don’t know where the confession comes from, but I don’t have the energy to take it back. I’m drained. Exhausted. I just want to curl up on the couch and forget what just happened.
“It’s not your job.” He emphasizes the las
t word with an edge in his voice. Darn it, I didn’t mean to trigger his pride.
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…I love takin’ care of you. Makes me feel good, ‘s all.” What the heck? My mouth doesn’t run this bad even when I’m drunk. What’s wrong with me?
“Oh, Ashley.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders and plasters himself to my side. Then he cups my head with his hand and pushes gently until I rest my cheek on his shoulder. “I know. And I let you take care of me. You have to let me take care of you back.”
His words dry my mouth and I swallow. “Whaddaya mean you let me take care of you?”
“You letting me stay here every night. Cooking for me. The clothes. And don’t think I haven’t noticed the books. I know you’re not a reader. But I know it makes you feel good, so I choose not to say anything. But in return, you have to let me take care of you, too.”
“It’s just…” I huff. “This is what always breaks all my relationships. No one believes someone like me isn’t a chest-poundin’ alpha male who seeks out fights and never backs down from a challenge. When people get to know the real me, they feel like they’ve been deceived.”
“I know the real you, Ashley. I’ve known you almost my entire life. You’re the only steady point in my life that I can always count on.”
“That doesn’t sound very exciting.”
“Maybe not to everyone. But you have no idea how attractive I find reliability and stability.”
I shake my head, but it’s not that I don’t believe him. I do. But I’m astonished at how different he is from anyone I’ve ever known.
He drags his fingers up and down my arm. “Was that why things didn’t work out with you and Dave?”
“Yeah. That, and he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”
“What was he doing here anyway?”
I heave a sigh. “I don’t know. I ran into him a while back. You know that day your mom was here for a visit?”
He nods.
I give him a recap of my brief encounter with Dave at the diner. “I planned on tellin’ you, but forgot after relayin’ that business with your mom.”
“It’s okay.”
“You don’t understand. I don’t like keepin’ secrets from people who’re important to me.”
Pippin stills. The pulse in his neck flutters against my temple. Then he resumes his caressing. “Neither do I.”
Chapter 9
“Do you still feel like watching a movie?” Pippin asks eventually.
“Yeah.” I allow myself to stay glued to his side for a few more heartbeats before I untangle myself and straighten. “It’ll help takin’ my mind off stuff. Lemme just go get some cold sodas, these have been out for a while,” I say, knowing how much he hates lukewarm soda.
When I get back to the living room, he’s picked a movie. As soon as I sit, he presses PLAY. We start out sitting next to each other, as close as we can without touching. We’ve both seen the movie before, so we’re chatting, commenting on the plot and the acting, as we eat the snacks.
Pippin wrinkles his nose at the guacamole, but shovels up the pico de gallo with his nachos, making lewd moans as he stuffs them into his mouth. “You’re a great cook,” he says every other minute.
I puff out my chest at his praise. Feeding people is another thing I love, so having Pippin to spoil is perfect.
When our bellies are full, we lean against the back of the couch. He lolls his head toward me and we drift closer and closer.
I don’t know how it happens, but after half the movie, I’m sprawled on my back and he’s lying on top of me, using me as a human mattress. His head is tucked under my chin, his hand rests on my heart, and his legs tangle with mine. My hands caress his back over his clothes, my heart thumps, and I have no idea what’s happening on the screen.
I just lie there. Breathing in the scent of his still-damp hair. Enjoying his weight on me. Shivering when his bare foot nudges mine.
It’s the perfect moment, accompanied by explosions and space scenes and a looming disaster about to wipe out the fictional Earth. I wish we could stay like this forever.
When the hero and heroine engage in a little hanky-panky before the hero needs to leave and save the world, Pippin squirms and hides his face against my shoulder. I rub my cheek against the top of his head and splay my fingers wider on his back, slowing down my strokes.
He whispers something I can’t make out.
“Hmm?”
Pippin turns his head a little, so his mouth isn’t covered. “I’ve never had sex.”
I bury my nose in his hair. “No?” I’m both surprised and not by his confession. I know what it’s like to be a young guy. During my teens and until I moved back in with Ma, my dick was pretty much my number one priority, and I know all about teenage hormones. But considering what his mom’s like, maybe it’s not so strange after all.
He confirms my suspicions. “Yeah, you know. My mom…”
I nod.
“I want it to mean something. At the risk of sounding like an old Victorian maiden, I want to have feelings for the one I…” He clears his throat and I can almost feel his face heating up. “Maybe it’s stupid.”
“Hey.” I cup his cheek and nudge up his face so I can look at him. He’s eyes are half-closed, and his lower lip is sucked into his mouth. Every fiber of his being oozes uncertainty. “There’s nothin’ wrong with wantin’ to wait. Only you know what’s right for you. No one else.”
“Other people seem to think there’s something wrong with me. I’ve kissed a few people, but they are in such a hurry to get to the main event. When I don’t allow wandering hands, they’re not interested anymore. They don’t understand that I want to know the person before being intimate. That I need to trust the person touching me.” He closes his eyes, his long dark eyelashes fanning out on his cheek, making him seem impossibly vulnerable.
“Oh darlin’.” I tuck him back under my chin and resume caressing him. “Is this okay?” I mumble, knowing the answer before he even nods, but wanting to make sure all the same. “Ma always lectured me and Aubs on the importance of consent and our right to say ‘no.’ She was adamant we wouldn’t give in to peer pressure and that we always, always make sure the other person was into what we were doin’. Her favorite sayin’ was ‘you can never ask too many times, because a “yes” can turn into a “no” at any time.’ She repeated it so often, me and Aubs would mime along with her lectures.”
Pippin chuckles. “Your ma was a fantastic lady.”
“She was.” Grief prickles my heart. She’s been gone for six years, and while the loss has gotten easier to bear over time, it’s never disappeared completely.
“I miss her,” Pippin says.
“Me, too.”
For a while, we watch the movie, but I focus more on his weight on top of me, his warm body against mine. He feels so right, as though this is where he’s meant to be. He fills a hole in my life that’s always been empty until now.
His body fits perfectly with mine and even though he’s thin, he’s solid. He may look like a waif, but he sure doesn’t feel like one.
Pippin scoots down a few more inches until he can press his ear against my chest, right over my heart. He rises and falls with my every breath, and I let my hands wander up his back until one hand is resting on the nape of his neck and the other carding through his soft hair.
“Your heart is so steady,” he says. “Just like you.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Very, very good.”
He doesn’t move from the spot, and when the movie ends, he asks me to put on another one. I choose one at random—one of the newer Star Wars movies I haven’t seen.
As the opening credits roll across the screen, he runs his fingers along the bottom of my hoodie and shivers rack my body. I shift on the couch, making better room for him between my legs.
“Am I too heavy?”
“No!” My denial is quick and makes him giggle.
&n
bsp; “You’ve been fattening me up, you know.”
“You can still stand to gain a few pounds.”
He giggles harder. “You sound like your ma.”
I know he meant the words as a joke, but they make me proud. I like being compared to her’ I couldn’t have had a better role model.
Pippin wiggles his arm between me and the back of the couch and rises on one elbow. His gaze roves over my face, then lingers on my mouth. His free hand finds its way into my beard and he combs his fingers through it.
“I never knew beards could be so soft.”
I slide my hand to his cheek and caress the sensitive skin under his eye with my thumb. Not even the sound of laser guns firing on the TV can steal my interest away from him.
“Ashley?” His eyes are glued to my lips. “I’d like to kiss you. Is that okay?” His Adam’s apple bobs.
“Yes, darlin’.”
He leans in. Slowly, as though he’s trying to swim through mud or give me a chance to change my mind.
I don’t. I keep my eyes on him and don’t let them fall closed until he’s just a hairsbreadth from my mouth.
Afraid to breathe, I wait. Puffs of air caress my skin, and I’m one second away from exploding with anticipation when his lips finally touch mine.
It’s a sweet, chaste kiss. No tongue, no wetness, just a light press against my mouth, but a bolt of white lightning flashes in my mind.
His lips are soft. Puffy. And so gentle, my heart aches.
I forget everything happening around us. The sound of the movie fades until it’s only white noise. All I can hear is blood thundering in my ears. All I can feel is his heart beating against mine and his light kisses.
In this moment, he’s my entire world.
When he breaks the kiss, I want to whine and pull him back, but I don’t.
“Wow,” he exhales.
“Yeah.”
He finds his spot under my chin again and hums. “Can we do that again sometime soon?”
“Anytime you want.”
A happy sigh slips out of him and we return to watching the movie.
