Warm lips brushed over his forehead, his temple, down his cheek as Rocco’s mouth made its way to Simon’s. They kissed with panting breath and desperate tongues, Rocco turning and pressing Simon hard against the door of his car.
Simon didn’t want to exist anywhere else again but there—except he still didn’t love being watched. He felt eyes on him, and he pulled back, though no one seemed to be around. ‘Come inside?’
Rocco nodded, then reached into the back for his bags. When Simon tried to help, Rocco grunted and shook his head, holding them away until Simon gave up. So, he led the way inside and waited impatiently as Rocco carefully put all the cold items away and left the dry ones on the table.
A moment passed between them, as they stood two feet apart in the kitchen, Rocco’s feet bare and in a patch of afternoon sunlight. Their eyes locked first, and Simon felt a warm sort of buzzing course through him. He wasn’t sure who took the step first, but the distance between them faded to nothing.
They didn’t kiss again. They were barely touching, Rocco cradling Simon’s face between his large hands in a hold so light, he could barely feel it. And yet, in spite of the gentle touch, he felt surrounded, held, consumed.
‘James told me,’ he finally managed to sign between them.
Rocco’s fingers tightened just for a second, then his hands dropped, and he glanced away. ‘I figured he would call.’
Simon drew his top lip between his teeth, feeling his nose stretch with it, then he gestured to the sofa and Rocco followed him. They sat close, facing each other, knees pressed together. Simon wanted to be back in his arms, but he also wanted to talk this out.
‘My brother thinks I have PTSD,’ Simon began. ‘I looked it up last night after I finished my prep.’
Rocco’s brow furrowed. ‘Do you agree?’
Blowing out a puff of air, Simon shrugged. ‘Some of the stuff fits, some doesn’t. There’s definitely something wrong with me.’
Rocco shook his head, reaching for him before he stopped himself. ‘No. There’s nothing wrong.’
Simon couldn’t help his laugh. ‘Well, there’s something happening in my head that I can’t control. A single bad date in college shouldn’t have made me terrified to try another one—but it did. And I didn’t have sex until you came into town.’
Rocco grinned a little salaciously. ‘I don’t mind that.’
Rolling his eyes, Simon smacked him on the knee. ‘Of course you don’t. But it’s still not…typical,’ he was struggling to find words and signs that felt right. ‘Hiding like that isn’t something that should come naturally to me, but it does. It didn’t always.’
‘Tell me about the bad date?’
Simon licked his lips nervously, but he didn’t look away. ‘He was a guy in one of my classes, he asked me out. I thought we were having a good time. He was my first date ever, and I was nervous. I tried to kiss him and,’ his hand wavered, but when Rocco laid a hand on his knee, felt brave and loved. ‘He laughed at me, and mocked me, then he left me there.’
Rocco’s face darkened. ‘What’s his name?’
At that, Simon threw his head back and laughed. ‘I promise I don’t remember, and it doesn’t matter. Most people would just be embarrassed, but I spiraled out of control and became too terrified to ever try again. So I came home a virgin and I stayed that way until you.’
A pained look crossed Rocco’s face. ‘I’m sorry.’
Simon shook his head. ‘It all happened a long time ago. It wasn’t the bad date though. That was just a symptom of whatever I have up here,’ he tapped his temple. ‘I sent a couple of emails to therapists over in Colorado Springs.’
‘Why did you shut me out last night?’
Simon couldn’t help his wince—mostly out of guilt, and a little out of the fear that hit him again just remembering the things Eric told him. ‘Eric was making sense. He knew all the things I was afraid of.’
Rocco lifted a brow. ‘Tell me.’
The last thing in the world Simon wanted was to look Rocco in the eyes as he signed all this, but he owed this man the truth. ‘I’m a nobody. I’m a small-town nobody that caught your eye on a vulnerable day. You wanted a distraction while things in your life got sorted out, then you’d go back home to your big life with all your famous friends and I’d still be here thinking I meant something to you.’
‘Simon.’ His name sign hadn’t changed, and Simon’s heart thudded in his chest.
‘I know it’s not true, but in that moment…’ Simon stopped and stared at his hands—at the flecks of dried dough stuck to his skin, at the way none of his body was shapely or fit—and Rocco loved him anyway. Rocco wanted him, just like this. ‘He laughed at me because I can’t sign Deaf speed…’
‘Yet,’ Rocco spelled, making sure Simon understood. ‘You don’t sign Deaf speed yet.’
Simon nodded. ‘I hope. But he…he laughed. He said you do this. He said you took some twink to the Caribbean when you broke up the last time, then you came home and bought him a car and begged him never to leave.’
Rocco rolled his eyes so hard it looked like it hurt. ‘I took our friend who had just finished his last round of chemo. Eric was supposed to come with, but he thought the islands weren’t going to have all his usual comforts. We fought, and I left without him.’
‘Did you beg him to stay?’ Simon asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.
Rocco shrugged. ‘Maybe. Our relationship was toxic, and I was shallow. I didn’t want things to change because I didn’t want to deal with change. This isn’t like that.’
Simon bowed his head, breathing steady, and nodded. He stayed that way a minute, until Rocco hooked a finger under his chin and drew up his gaze, and Simon found he never wanted to look away. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t just talk to you. I just…I thought he was right. How else would he know where to find you?’
Rocco’s expression went stormy as he pulled his hand back. ‘Xander, my agent—ex agent—still had access to my email accounts. He saw when I made our account on SinSity and he tracked you through Twitter. He was trying to sue me for rights to our videos, but because he was no longer my contracted agent, there’s going to be a countersuit.’
Simon’s eyes widened. ‘Seriously.’
Rocco’s expression didn’t lighten. ‘Yes. And one against Eric. He had no right to come here, no right to harass you. He was hired in a professional capacity, and using my personal information to aid Xander—he’s not going to get away with it. I’m just sorry they put you through it.’
‘Are they going to leak my name?’ Simon asked.
Rocco heaved a sigh. ‘They might. I don’t know. We don’t have to post the videos. We can find another way.’
Simon bit his lip and considered it—because it was a lot. He’d gone from someone who wouldn’t leave the storefront to filming amateur porn—and it was likely some of the town would see it. He’d have to tell his brother so Levi wouldn’t stumble on it. He’d have to…come clean, if people asked.
Because even if Eric or Xander didn’t release his name, eventually people would know it was Rocco—and then they’d know it was him.
‘I want to do it,’ Simon told him. ‘I want to have a therapist to help with my anxiety, but I want to do it.’
‘Do you still want to fuck me?’ Rocco asked him, and Simon blushed furiously.
But he didn’t look away. ‘Yes. And…and it can show my face. Our faces.’
Rocco looked mildly surprised. ‘You don’t need to do that.’
Simon felt oddly emboldened, and he shifted closer, letting their legs tangle. ‘I want the world to see your face when I sink inside you.’
Breath coming out in a hard rush, Rocco licked his lips and leaned in. ‘Yes,’ he signed, a nod of his fist.
Simon grinned. ‘Good. Now kiss me.’
It was an order Rocco was happy to follow.
* * *
That Shabbat passed in the same comfort it had the week before. They didn’
t talk about the videos that were still with the editor, they didn’t talk about work, or about Eric, or about Simon’s anxiety. They read a lot, and tangled up in each other on the sofa, in the armchair, in bed.
Rocco stood behind Simon when he prayed, and wrapped arms around him when the Shabbat ended and he lit the havdalah, and he laid a hand on Simon’s chest as he sang the final blessing. Then they kissed as the flame sent shadows flickering across the walls, and Rocco drew him into the shower and spent ten minutes dragging a soapy sponge over every inch of his body.
They still didn’t get each other off, and Simon finally felt in control of himself—even at Rocco’s hands.
‘I promised you a date,’ Rocco said, flicking through Simon’s closet until he found a nice shirt and a pair of trousers. Rocco was dressed much the same—just more expensive, but Simon realized he never felt unequal with him. Not even when he was a virgin who couldn’t keep his dick under control, Rocco never made him feel less.
It was heady. And it was wonderful.
And he loved him.
He let Rocco lay him out on the bed, he opened his entire body to the man’s lazy kisses. It felt intense, and wonderful, to hold Rocco against him, to feel his mouth in unexpected places like the curve of his ribs, the hollow of his knee, the bend in his elbow. There was no destination this time, just existing together.
Eventually, Rocco propped up on his elbow and hovered over Simon, his free hand tracing lines up and down Simon’s soft belly. ‘Happy?’ he asked.
Simon’s smile was answer enough, it seemed, because Rocco leaned back in to kiss him for short, eternal seconds. Eventually they made it out the door. Rocco drove, and Simon enjoyed the cool night air on his skin, and the feeling of being somewhere new and different, even if it was just minutes from his front door.
Mangia E Zitto was still busy, even after nine, and Simon let his hand slip into his boyfriend’s as they made it inside and were shown to a table in the corner. It was dark, candle-lit, and more romantic than Simon imagined it would be.
‘I always thought fancy dates would be cheesy,’ he admitted after they ordered wine.
Rocco chuckled and shook his head. ‘They are, but that’s not a bad thing, is it?’
Simon’s grin widened. ‘No, I guess it isn’t. There’s a place for it.’
Reaching across the table, Rocco took Simon’s hand in his and rubbed his thumb over Simon’s knuckles. They locked eyes, then Rocco brought Simon’s hand up, and kissed him there. It was almost too much—but it was also just enough.
‘I wanted to tell you something,’ Rocco said after taking his hand back. ‘It’s going to sound stupid, maybe? Or…maybe not the right time? But I feel like if I don’t say it now…’
Simon’s heart leapt in his chest, and he knew—of course he knew, because Levi had made it so obvious. The love he held for Rocco was reflected right back at him in the way Rocco’s eyes locked onto his, and his mouth went soft, and the tender way he handled Simon.
And the way he made Simon feel like enough, even if he still needed work.
“Listen, asshole! I fucking see them right there and if you don’t let me in, I’m going to blast this place so hard you’ll never recover. Do you even know who I am? Do you know who I know?”
Simon’s eyes went wide and he recognized that voice. He’d never forget it. He snatched his hand from Rocco’s and turned in his seat to see Eric wavering in the alcove in front of the dining room. Eric’s eyes locked on his—half crossed, but he recognized him.
“He’s right fucking there, with his little virgin whore.”
Rocco clamped his hand on Simon’s wrist. ‘What did he say?’
‘He’s drunk,’ Simon told him. ‘He called me a virgin whore.’
“Can’t even sign properly. God, I’m not drunk, you whore. I’m pissed off!”
Simon interpreted, then started to rise, but Rocco shook his head. ‘Let me. Give me five minutes, tell the server I’m sorry.’ He dug into his pocket and took out his wallet, sliding a sleek, black card toward Simon. ‘Ask them to pack up our food.’
Simon’s heart sank, realizing that this moment—his first date since the one massive disaster that had terrified him into never looking again—was ruined. He felt cursed. The man he was in love with was currently walking his drunk ex out the door as the manager came over, looking both angry and apologetic.
“I’m sorry,” Simon all but whispered. His face was burning—everyone was staring. Everyone was staring, they were whispering. He heard the faint tittering of laughter—just like before, even if it wasn’t his date this time and…
“Hey.” A warm, strong arm curled around his waist, and another body slid up next to him. Simon’s eyes were blurred, but the voice was familiar as a hand plucked the card from his fingers and handed it off to the manager. “I think his date would like their stuff packed to take with them.”
The arm holding out the card wasn’t organic—it was sleek and black, with mechanical fingers. Simon turned his head fully and saw Parker Alling smiling at him. Beside him, the larger man, was Ronan looking gruff as ever with his heavy brows and scowl.
“Let’s head outside,” Ronan said, his voice roughened even more since high school. He used his hold on Simon to propel him while Parker stayed behind to take care of the bill, and Simon let Ronan lead him to a bench under a yellow flood of lamplight. Simon’s legs went weak, and he sat as Ronan stood back a few paces. “Are you okay?”
Simon’s laugh was high and tight. “I don’t know?”
“You were having a panic attack.”
Simon laughed again. “Was I?”
“I’m pretty familiar,” Ronan said, then let out a small huff that might have been something like a laugh. “Was that your boyfriend who dragged that guy out?”
Simon studied Ronan’s face, searching for the awkward teen boy he’d last seen up close in their senior year. He was there, beneath the beard, beneath the receding hairline and the wrinkled forehead. He was there in the way his eyes were still soft, even if he always looked angry.
“I think so,” Simon admitted. “That guy was his ex.”
“What a dick,” came another voice. Parker was walking back with bags of food in his hand, and the card pressed between two fingers. Simon took them from him, then laid the food at his feet and bowed his head.
“Sorry. God, that was mortifying.”
Parker’s prosthetic hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed with an unexpected gentleness. “For him,” Parker insisted. He still had the barest hint of accent from learning English as a kid—a lot like Simon. He’d shown up in Cherry Creek with both of his parents straight from Norway, though he took to English a lot faster than Simon had. “He was the jerk who interrupted your date.”
Simon bit the inside of his cheek, then stood up and straightened his back. What he wanted was Rocco—what he wanted was his boyfriend to hold him and tell him that this wasn’t ruined—that he wasn’t cursed. He found Rocco’s car parked right where it always was, but didn’t see him anywhere.
“I saw him go around back,” Parker offered with a half-smile.
Simon scrubbed both hands down his face and groaned. “This is a nightmare. This was my first date and it was just…a nightmare.”
“You and your boyfriend haven’t gone on a date before this?” Ronan asked.
Parker gently touched the man’s elbow. “I think he means ever.”
Ronan’s eyes widened a fraction. “You’re serious?”
“Well, I had one in college but it barely counts.” Simon’s blush was furiously hot in his cheeks, and he glanced away. “It’s not that weird.”
“No just,” Ronan said with a huff. He’d never been great with words, and after the fire—after that trauma of almost losing Fitz—he was even quieter. “You’re attractive. Really attractive. I’m just surprised.”
“He’s allowed to be picky, Ro.” Parker smiled at Ronan softly, then turned to Simon. “For what it’s worth, I d
on’t think it’s ruined. I think he’s trying to save it still.”
Simon only regretted that he couldn’t see what was probably a furious ASL fight—wherever they were. But he wanted to give Rocco space to deal with whatever was left of Eric. “You two should get back to your date. I didn’t mean to mess it up.”
Parker shook his head. “This wasn’t a date—we’ve been married for like a hundred years. Dinner no longer counts as dates.”
“Still,” Simon insisted. He didn’t have the heart to tell them he just needed a minute, but they seemed to get it because Parker nodded and started away.
Ronan followed at his heels for a minute, then he stopped and turned, facing Simon. “I’m glad to see you tonight. Maybe…I’ll see you around? Soon?”
If the night hadn’t been such a shit-show, Simon might have felt better. As it was, he still felt elated and surprised. He nodded and licked his lips nervously. “Yeah. Yes. Maybe stop by Chametz.”
Ronan nodded. “I will. See you.” His voice was still gruff—but that was just him, and Simon was starting to understand that maybe people were more nuanced than just friends or enemies. He had wasted a lot of his young life not realizing that.
The pair disappeared, and not two minutes later, a cab pulled into the parking lot and around the corner. Simon sat back down on the stone bench and listened to Eric’s voice rising in protest, then to him cry softly. A door shut, and then the cab was gone.
For a single, impossible second, Simon worried Rocco had gone with him. Then he saw him, coming around the corner, picking up speed when he saw where Simon was waiting. Simon was on his feet—exhausted by the emotions the drama had pulled out of him, but grateful to have warm arms pulling him in.
“Sorry,” Rocco said, holding Simon’s face up to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. “I love you. I was trying to say I love you.” Rocco pulled one hand away to make the three-fingered sign at him, then he pressed it over Simon’s heart. ‘I love you.’
Simon closed his eyes, then held his own sign up in reply. ‘I love you.’
Rocco curled his fingers around Simon’s wrist and kissed the place where his middle and ring finger sat curved against his palm. Simon’s eyes closed after that. The night was bound to be even longer, but it didn’t matter. Rocco was with him, and there was some sort of happy ending—right there in that empty parking lot, with tears in his eyes, and a kiss on his lips.
Love Him Free: Book One of On The Market Page 23
