Coming Home

by Emrys Apollo

“How do they look?” Lucas asks, standing a bit awkward.

  “Don't think purple is your color,” Roy says, drawing them back off his face. Lucas squints at him as Roy places another pair there, with a light blue tint. “Like these more,” he says, and brings the mirror around on the turnstile. “See?”

  “God,” Lucas says. “I never wear sunglasses.”

  “Got to protect those nice eyes you got,” Roy says, grinning at him from over his shoulder as he plucks an amber pair off the rack for himself. He pays for both without even trying his on, but when he slips them onto the bridge of his nose it feels like they had been there all along.

  “Come on,” Roy says, taking his hand again. “Let's go get some lunch.”

  ***

  They bring to-go boxes down to the beach and sit on towels just a few feet away from where the water licks up onto the sand. Roy dunks an oversized shrimp into a little tub of butter, and hums his satisfaction.

  “Good?” Lucas asks, chewing a piece of grouper.

  “Great,” Roy says, chewing. “Want a bite?”

  “Mmm,” Lucas says, and leans in, opening his mouth for Roy to give him a piece. “That is good,” he says, the butter heavy on his tongue. “Haven't had shrimp in a long time.”

  “Give me a list of all the food you want to eat and I'll make it happen,” Roy says, reaching over to squeeze the other man's knee.

  Lucas likes the cadence of Roy's voice, the way his words hit the air and feel like puffs of warmth on Lucas’ skin. He likes his knees, his broad hands, the way he smiles, the way the sun casts light in his hair. Lucas glances at him out of the corner of his eye, sees him close up his box and put it aside, then cast his face up to the sky. Lucas watches him, unabashed, eyes scanning over the lines of his cheeks and his jaw. He sees the drop hit the bridge of his nose and Roy clamps his eyes shut, straightens up again.

  “You just flick water at me?” Roy asks, grinning over at him, one eye still closed.

  “I think it’s raining,” Lucas says, pulling his sunglasses up into his hair and peering up at the sky.

  “Really?” Roy says, as another drop lands in the sand between them. “It’s sunny as-”

  And then the sky opens up and the drops come in waves. Everyone on the beach scatters, screaming, though some run into the water.

  Roy he grabs onto his takeout box and wraps an arm around Lucas’ waist, pulling him to his feet.

  “Under the pier,” Lucas says, and their feet sink into the sand as they make their way there.

  They're soaked to the bone when they finally make it somewhere dry and there only a few other people that had the same idea, more than a few feet away from them. Roy takes both of their boxes of food and sits them at their feet, and Lucas leans against one of the wooden columns, an easy smile hanging off his lips.

  “Look at you,” Roy says, reaching up to push a damp curl off his forehead. “You wear wet well.”

  Lucas pulls him in, tugging at his polo shirt, hanging limp now. He sneaks a hand underneath it, running his hand over his skin. “Don't look so bad yourself,” Lucas says, soft. He tugs him close by his collar and presses their lips together, turning his head for a better angle. Roy brings one hand up to cup his cheek, the other wrapping around to hang on a belt loop below the small of Lucas’ back.

  Roy kisses him long, slots their hips together and Lucas sways into him. He hums a bit, sucking at Roy's lower lip, and feels his heart fluttering, taking dives and cast over in a warmth that only this man, this man pressed close and smiling against his lips, has been able to provide.

  “Guess we're heading home,” Lucas says, quickly stealing another kiss.

  Roy doesn't comment on his use of the word home and nods, trailing his lips down Lucas’ neck.

  ***

  It's six in the morning, and Roy's pressed into the sheets on his stomach, Lucas kneeling between the spread of his legs. Roy moans and whimpers as the other man's tongue probes, pushes deep into him, and his hands fist in the sheets.

  “Lucas -“ he gasps, and moans again as Lucas squeezes his ass cheek. He draws one of his knees up further on the bed, stretching his muscles. His eyes are clamped shut and he's desperate, this has always made him so needy but the way Lucas does it, the feel of his mouth there, his lips, his tongue, his fingers kneading Roy's skin, it's too much, too damn much - Roy groans damp into the pillow, a low heat stoking up at the pit of his stomach and he's already leaking, dripping with need.

  “Lucas,” he breathes. “God, oh God, I want you to fuck me. Now, right now.”

  Lucas pulls back, looking up at Roy. “What?”

  “You heard me,” Roy says. “Come on, right now.”

  Lucas lets out a breath, leans in to trail kisses along the curve of Roy's ass as he urges him up onto his knees. He hasn't heard this request in years, not since the women in the beginning, and he hardly knows where to start. He can only think of how the men use and abuse him, and he doesn't want it to be like that for Roy. He wants it to be good, wants him to know that it means something, more than Lucas even knows himself. He sighs again, and Roy is already shaking as Lucas rises up, the bed sinking a bit underneath them.

  He fishes the bottle of lube out from the pile of sheets and doesn't take long before working two fingers into him. Lucas has already loosened him up with his tongue, and he pushes his fingers in and out as Roy trembles under him.

  “I need you,” he groans, his voice low. He peers over his shoulder, sweat on his brow. “I'm ready, come on.”

  Lucas is throbbing hard already and lines up, bracing his hands gently around Roy's hips. He pushes in slow, his breath hitching in his throat and Roy gasps, pressing back against him. Lucas goes in all the way so they're flush together, listens to Roy's ragged breathing as he starts to move.

  He thrusts hard and fast, rattling the bed frame and Roy himself. His whole body is strung tight and he feels like he's on fire as his fingers dig into Roy's skin, the other man moaning long every time Lucas moves. Lucas bows over him, brushing his lips against the back of Roy's neck, sucking there as Roy repeats his name.

  “Oh God,” Roy groans, his voice a couple octaves higher. “Oh Lucas, oh baby -”

  Lucas’ hand slides up over his stomach and he holds him tight, sweat-slicked skin pressing together. Roy says his name again and Lucas wants to see his mouth move, wants to see his lips wrap around the word and he straightens up, pulls out despite how every nerve in his body is telling him not to.

  “Don't - “ Roy gasps, but Lucas gently urges him onto his back, pushing his legs open. He hovers over him, nipping at his shoulder and slides back into him again. “Oh,” Roy moans, hooking his arms around Lucas’ middle and clinging to his back. He wraps his legs around Lucas’ hips and crosses his ankles, ready to take everything that Lucas gives him.

  Lucas fucks into him slower now, easy and deep, and he pulls back so he can stare down at him, cup his face in his hands. He runs his thumbs along Roy's cheeks as he moves, leans down to kiss the hinge of his jaw, his temple, the bridge of his nose. Lucas’ stomach is jumping and he's shaking now, so close, so bowled over by the look on Roy's face, for what Lucas is doing, for how Lucas making him feel, for Lucas himself. Lucas kisses him, the softness of his lips as he kisses back, making little sounds and holding him so tight.

  “Lucas,” Roy breathes, clutching him tighter as he grits his teeth. “Lucas, I'm - I'm there, I'm there - “

  “Come for me, baby,” Lucas whispers in his ear.

  Roy cries out and does just that, hot and sticky between them. Lucas humps lazy and his own release finds him; he buries his face in Roy's neck, his mouth falling open as he slows to a stop.

  Roy doesn't let go of him, just moves his fingers, casting slow circles into Lucas’ skin. Lucas makes to move, to pull out and roll off, but Roy holds him tighter.

  “Not yet,” he breathes, his eyes still closed. “Just - just stay, for a minute.”

  A warm jolt goes through Lucas’ heart a
nd he smiles, leaning in to press kisses to each of Roy's eyes.

  “How the hell am I going to go to work?” Roy mumbles, as Lucas presses his lips to the corner of Roy's mouth. “My legs aren’t going to work.”

  “Don't go,” Lucas whispers, kissing him again.

  “I have to,” Roy says against his mouth. “Already blew them off yesterday, as much as I want to stay right here with you.”

  ***

  Roy takes a shower, sings quietly to himself as he washes his hair. When he comes back into the room Lucas is cuddled up on his side, his cheek resting on his arm as he breathes softly, his eyes closed.

  Roy finds himself staring, standing there in his boxers and dripping water onto the carpet. He snaps himself out of it and starts forward, coming up to kneel beside the bed. He's so close he can feel Lucas’ breath on his cheek but he doesn't touch him - Roy wants to know everything about him, feels something fall into place when they're together, like he's found the missing piece he's been searching for all along.

  Lucas pops one eye open, the corner of his mouth lifting up. “What?”

  Roy smiles back and shakes his head. “Nothing.”

  “That face isn’t nothing,” Lucas says, shifting up prop his head up, leaning on his elbow.

  Roy's thoughts float in his head and he doesn't get embarrassed often but his ears are burning red, a flush creeping up his neck but he can't stop the words, can't help but watch them meet air. “Things have changed for me. It's different.” He dips his head, can see Lucas blinking light out of the corner of his eye. “Sometimes, when I look at you, it feels like I’ve known you all my life.” He can't look away this time, watches as Lucas’ eyes scan over his face.

  “Think I might know what you mean,” Lucas says, reaching out to wrap his hand around the back of Roy's neck, urging him closer until their lips meet.

  ***

  “Well there he is.”

  Lucas whips his head up in a second. He recognizes the voice right away and his skin goes cold. It’s not a voice he expected to hear in the safety of the hotel elevator. For a minute he can't move, doesn't register Tania's look of concern, her flash of anger. Finally he turns around, sees that slicked-back hair and those dark eyes, his broad hands that boil up bruises every time he lays them on Lucas’ skin.

  “Heard you were here,” he says, drawing up close and Lucas tries not to back up, tries to stand tall but he's sure both of them can hear his heart rattling and raging in his chest. “With some rich guy.”

  “And who are you?” Tania asks, cocking her head.

  Callister ignores her, getting closer to Lucas still. “You ain't got much longer. Soon I'm going to have my hands on you again and maybe you'll think twice about breaking our engagement.” He reaches out and latches onto Lucas’ wrist. “Think I might not treat you so nice next time.”

  Tania steps forward and knocks his hand away, breaking the contact. “Get your hands off him.”

  Then Callister rounds on her, tries to back her up into the corner. “You think you can try me, little girl? Think I could break you in half if I wanted to - “

  Lucas moves quick, stepping in front of her and holding his arms out. “Just stay away from her, alright?”

  Callister's eyes flash and he bears down, the stench of him all too familiar but Lucas doesn't move, can't let him get to Tania. “Would be nice, taking you both right here - “

  “You’re not going to touch her,” Lucas finds himself saying. Then Callister punches him hard, knocking him to the side but Lucas scrambles to his feet again, ignoring the sparks and the pain and the blood, metal in his mouth, and plants himself between Callister and Tania again.

  “You’re nobody- “ and he hits him again, right in the eye and Lucas sees stars, darkness, hears Tania call his name, and Callister's taking him by the collar and hauling him close, his teeth bared. Then the world shutters and stops, and the elevator doors open.

  “Roger!” Tania calls, wedging in between the wall and Lucas’ body, holding the doors open with her foot and grabbing hold of a man in a suit standing on the seventh floor. “Get this man out of Mr. Bright's hotel. He's harassing a guest.”

  “Yes ma'am,” he says, his voice deep, and he's grabbing hold of Callister and dragging him off Lucas easily.

  “This ain't over, Trick!” Callister yells, grasping onto the railing as the security guard tries to pull him out. His voice is ragged and Lucas just listens, can feel Tania holding onto him. The doors close, and everything goes silent.

  Lucas closes his eyes and he tries not to shake, tries to even out his breathing. Tania sticks the key in the slot and punches the penthouse button, and then turns towards him and takes his face in her hands.

  “Oh my God. Oh God, Lucas.”

  “I'm alright,” he says, but his voice gives him away.

  “I’m going to get you some ice,” she says, brushing his hair out of his face. “In the room...”

  “I'm alright,” he says again, but Callister's words echo in his ears.

  ***

  It hurts more than he lets on. His face feels like pulp and he's been beaten before, beaten so bad he couldn't work for weeks, but this stings more, somehow, having happened in a place where he felt so safe and happy. His lip is split and he keeps tonguing it, wincing whenever he does. Tania holds the ice pack to his eye, staring up at it like she can will it better. Lucas is sitting on the kitchen counter, and he closes his eyes against the cold.

  The door opens and closes, and Roy's whistling, dropping his briefcase and jacket onto the couch.

  “Are both of you here?” he calls, and when he doesn't get an answer he marches right into the kitchen and takes in the scene.

  His face falls quickly as soon as sees the bruising, the dried blood. Lucas doesn't look at him, does all he can to keep his eyes fixed on the corner of the room, but Tania turns around.

  “What the hell happened?” Roy breathes, his heart clamoring in his chest. “Who did this?” He strides forward, close to them both, but Lucas still doesn't look at him.

  “ Hold this ,” Tania says to Lucas, and brings his hand up to grip the ice pack. “We'll be right back.”

  Lucas nods, and Tania drags Roy away, into the hallway. He squares off in front of her, his hands on his hips. He shakes his head, raising his eyebrows.

  “Some guy, guess it was one of his old clients. He got on the elevator with us, started threatening him, threatening me when I tried to get him to stop, and then Lucas got in between us. He hit him, kept hitting him until the doors opened again and thank god, Roger was there and got him away from us.”

  Rage is welling up red in Roy's throat, at the core of his chest and he's gritting his teeth, breathing heavy.

  Tania steps forward, placing her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Roy. Some of the shit this guy said. He wants to hurt him. If he gets anywhere near Lucas again - “ she swallows, shaking her head. “If what you said the other day....if it's true, you've got to get him out of this. Out of this life. You hear me?”

  Roy meets her eyes and nods, drawing in a breath.

  She nods back, rubbing his arm. “Go take care of him,” she says. “I'll check in on you two tomorrow.”

  ***

  Lucas hears him coming back in and he drops his hand to the counter, putting the ice pack down. He hangs his head and doesn't look but can still see Roy's feet when he steps up close.

  And for a minute, for a stray second of sunlight things were different. Maybe he'd found a life, found someone, found something. Found a reason to laugh again, found a place to feel safe. And then it all came crashing down under Callister's fists and he's marked, marked with the life he's subjected himself to. And he can't look at Roy, can't look at him because he can't have him. That hurts more than the split in his lip or the bruising around his eye .

  “Hey,” Roy says, soft. He cups Lucas’ cheek with gentle fingers and tips his face up. Lucas lets him and meets his eyes, highly aware of the tears shining in his o
wn. Roy steps closer and presses his lips to Lucas’ temple and Lucas leans in to his touch. He can't help it, he wants so badly to be with him now more than ever.

  “You're alright,” Roy whispers, wrapping his arms around him, tangling a hand up in his hair. Lucas presses his face to Roy's chest and listens to his heart, reaches up to hold him too. “I've got you,” Roy says, kissing the top of his head, and Lucas’ grip tightens. His breath hitches and he clamps his eyes shut, feels Roy's fingers carding through his hair.

  “I've got you,” Roy says again, and doesn't let go.

  He gets him into bed about ten minutes later, peels off his clothes and leaves him in just his briefs. Roy strips down to his, too, and gets Lucas to lay down before he reapplies the ice pack. He keeps a warm hand on Lucas’ stomach, watches him lick the split in his lip.

  “What's this guy's name?” Roy asks.

  “I don't want you going near him,” Lucas says, clearing his throat.

  “Just want to know his name,” Roy says, readjusting the ice pack.

  “Stay here with me,” Lucas says, peering up at him.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Roy says. He leans down, brushing his lips against Lucas’. “No one's going to hurt you again.”

  “Callister. His name is Callister.”.

  ***

  Their clothes fall off piece by piece, build up in a pile on the side of the bed. Roy pulls Lucas into his lap, palming over the smooth contours of his naked skin. Lucas leans heavy into Roy's shoulder as he fingers him open, breathing out harsh and hot into the slim space between them.

  Lucas lets him go, lets him work until he's ready and he rises up and sinks back down until he's flush against him. He can hardly breathe for a moment and presses his shins into the bed, leaning back to brace himself on Roy's knees. He feels his body pulse in the spot where they're joined, and Roy sits up a bit, reaching around to the small of Lucas’ back to pull him close.

  “Roy,” Lucas gasps, his eyes rolling back a bit as he starts to move, getting one hand tangled up in the other man's hair as the other comes to grip his shoulder.

  Lucas rides him slow, biting down on his lower lip at how tight and sharp it feels, that spark that shoots through him with Roy and Roy alone. Roy inside him, Roy growling against his neck and Lucas’ stomach drops and contracts as the fire stirs there. Roy, Roy, he's chanting his name and it tastes like sunlight, hope and a rush of wind and passion stoking up a blush over his neck and his chest.