by Avril Ashton
Donovan hadn’t stopped shaking, in fact it appeared to Levi that as he spoke Donovan’s tremors got more pronounced. He lifted himself off, but his legs weren’t strong enough to stand so he planted his ass on the floor, facing away from Donovan.
“I didn’t stop,” Donovan said softly.
Levi glanced over his shoulder.
“I didn’t stop loving you. I never stopped needing you.” Donovan’s lips trembled, the beard too. “No one—No one could give me what you give me.” Shame flashed over his face then disappeared. “I tried so fucking hard, but it’s like you took what made me me with you when you left and I got stuck with the leftovers that don’t fit. They never fit until now.”
Levi looked away. He didn’t want reminders of Donovan on his knees for someone else. He didn’t want that image in his head.
“It was always hard to breathe without you near.” The words spoken behind him were so faint, he had to strain to make them out. “But this past seven years, it’s been impossible.”
The urge to lay his armor down, to call off the fight, made Levi ache. But who would he be surrendering to? He made himself stand, made sure his face was blank as he stood over his husband stretched out on his back, one arm under his head, blood drying around his nose, and his lips swollen from Levi’s kisses.
They weren’t them anymore.
The realization should have hit before now, shouldn’t it? He thought it had, but staring down into Donovan’s face, Levi staggered as he bled on the inside.
“Deceived. Like a fool,” he said quietly, as he gazed at the man he used to love. The man he used to trust. “No one ever did, but if anybody were to ask how I felt when I learned who you truly were and why you were really in my life… I feel deceived. Like the butt of the sickest joke. An idiot. Used.” He stepped back, once, but that step was so heavy, took so much out of him. “I would like for it to go away, those feelings. Can you take them away?” All those emotions, they choked him as he finally put voice to them. As he finally owned them. “Can you replace them with something better? Replace you with something better?”
Donovan just looked at him with his wet eyes, not speaking. There really wasn’t anything to say, because the fucked up thing was—and maybe Donovan knew, maybe he didn’t—but he was the best thing to happen to Levi, apart from the birth of his son.
How fucked up was that? He barked a laugh. “You can stay on the couch,” he managed to say as he walked off.
They weren’t them anymore, so who were they?
Chapter Seven
Van stayed on the floor after Levi tucked tail and ran, too fucked to even gather the strength to get to his feet. On his tongue, Levi lingered. The taste of his husband was something Van could never forget, and the cruel swipe of Levi’s tongue over his wiped out anything else from Van’s mind until he was begging, acting on the instinct that said Levi’s touch was all he needed. Levi’s control would center him, would bring him back from the edge of that precipice he’d been toeing for seven years.
Levi’s possession fixed him. Every time.
Except now Levi didn’t want him. He’d done it, hurt the last person he’d wanted to hurt. Chased away the last man he wanted to be away from. The rejection burned through him, acid that melted him into a puddle of useless shit.
Raw.
He hadn’t forgotten the effect Levi had on him, he’d simply fucking underestimated how being close to Levi would bring out the need in him. He’d wanted that cruel twist of Levi’s mouth, the hard glint in his eyes as he took over.
Took over Van, their sex, their pleasure.
Van’s pain.
He’d awakened something in Van and no matter how he’d searched, no matter how many random fucks he knelt for in truck stop bathrooms, he was left feeling even more frustrated and lost. Only Levi could play him to perfection, with a look and one touch. One kiss.
But Levi didn’t want it anymore. Van wanted to get his husband back, get his family back, but did Levi want that? And after what he’d done, Van was starting to question if Levi could ever forgive him. If he could ever look at Van the way he used to, possessive, borderline obsessive. A look that said he felt like Van felt, that they should be touching each other, fucking each other, every day.
All day.
Levi’s rejection rang out in his head, loud and clear. The idea that he’d never get it back tore at Van. He rolled onto his stomach then got into a crouch before staggering to his feet. Two steps took him to his overnight bag where he dug around until he found the pills and the bottle of Jack. He washed the pill down with the liquor, eyes closed, head thrown back, seeking the numbness, the void where he could exist without feeling like this.
Pretending wasn’t working. He felt too much, and if Levi couldn’t make it stop then Van would use the next best thing.
The condo was silent, shrouded in darkness as he crept out and rode the elevator down to the ground floor. He couldn’t leave Levi alone, not yet. But he wanted to find someone to put him on his knees, his face in the dirt and his ass in the air.
Make him hurt for a minute. Make him feel something other than the loss that gripped him and got bigger and bigger with every inhale. Because for the first time he understood he was losing.
His mind.
His family.
His last shot and he’d never get them back.
He sat in his car, in the back seat, staring at the building that housed his entire life. His happiness. His joy, his pain. For seven years he’d been sure he could make Levi see the truth of who they were, what they were to each other. He’d been sure he’d get the chance to make it right. Face to face, staring into each other’s. He’d known if given that opportunity, he’d be able to get it all back.
But what he’d done might just be too big to ignore. What he’d broken might be impossible to fix. What he’d thrown away in the name of his job, Dutch and his father, could be out of his reach permanently.
His vision swam, dipping in and out as he trembled from the cold his simple t-shirt and jeans provided no buffer from. But also from the reality. He wasn’t getting it back. The greatest gift he’d ever been given. Someone who’d loved him unconditionally. That gift wouldn’t come around again.
Holding the bottle of Jack between his knees, he picked up his phone, and dialed Mel.
The familiar routine brought stinging tears to his eyes. Two rings then the automated voicemail. “Mel.” He slid down onto the seat until he was lying length-wise, booted feet against the opposite window. “I lost,” he whispered. “I lost him, Mel. He doesn’t love me anymore.”
The hand holding the phone shook, knuckles hitting his ear. He wanted to bawl. Scream.
“I fucked up.” The tears melted on his tongue. “The old man was right.”
Everything he touched he fucked up, Mark Dulles had told Van that at seventeen. Then at twenty, and when Mel had— He’d told him that again. Everything he touched he destroyed. He didn’t know how to be happy. His father told him that. Oh, he’d told Van many things, but those were the words that stuck. That resonated. That colored everything he did as he sought to prove the old bastard wrong.
Except he kept proving him right.
“Mel.” Raw. The pain cracked his voice. “Don’t ignore me. Please, Mel. Pick up the phone.” He was sobbing openly now, unable to stop as it flowed in torrents. “I need you.” But no matter how he begged, Mel never answered. Didn’t stop him from hoping.
Fucking hope.
“Don’t leave me, Mel.” The phone beeped in his ear, and he jumped then tossed it away.
He poured the Jack down his throat, spilling some of it on himself in the process. Then he sat up, and climbed to the front. In the driver’s seat he stared at the entrance to the condo. The itch under his skin wanted him to get away, find someone to give him what he needed so he could at least pretend to be better for a little while.
The other part of him couldn’t bear to leave Levi alone in that building. Yes, there were
men around, some he spotted, others he didn’t, to watch out for Levi. But Van couldn’t leave. Didn’t matter that Levi didn’t want him.
Well, it did.
But it didn’t.
Swimming in emotion like he was right now, he had to focus on fixing himself. At least for a little while, a brief reprieve. That’s all he ever got anyway. But Levi was inside that fucking building, and after seven years of being so far away from him, Van couldn’t make himself go farther than where he was right then.
Watching. Protecting. He hadn’t done that back then. A mistake he wouldn’t make a second time. It didn’t matter what it cost. Looking like it was gonna cost everything, though. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, wincing when his nose hurt. That punch had been fucking welcomed, Levi losing control. His husband was gorgeous when he let his control go.
Van had made him do it, at least for that short moment. A second chance would likely never come again, but it couldn’t matter.
He gulped the Jack. Licked his lips.
Then went back upstairs where he stripped down to his boxer briefs and stretched out on the couch.
He didn’t hear a sound, but an awareness made Donovan lift his lashes slowly. Levi stood over him in the shadows, chest bare, wearing pajama bottoms. He gazed down at Donovan in silence, so still, eyes glittering.
They stared at each other.
Donovan waited, tense. Too fucking weary to go another round.
“Levi,” he murmured.
Levi got on his knees in the darkness, placed a palm on Van’s stomach. Just like that he was up, every single part of him. Heart racing, body vibrating under that touch. He lifted his head, raised up on his elbows. Lips joined that hand, kissing his belly, tongue sweeping over his skin, tracing the ridges of his abs.
He didn’t know why it was happening, but Van held his tongue. Fuck, he held his breath. Too scared to do anything to end this. Greedy hands pulled his boxers down, freed his cock then—
“Argh!” He arched off the couch when lips wrapped around him, wet and tight and insistent on sucking him down. He fisted a hand, brought it to his mouth and bit down, hips jerking, body lifting, searching out that pleasure.
All that wet. All those moans. His. Levi’s.
No other sound as he fucked his husband’s throat in the dark. Levi jerked him, stroked him, tongue fucking his slit before sliding down the length of him to his balls. His hole.
All that wet.
Van choked. Shuddered with the bittery-sweet of it. So strong it dampened his eyes. And he didn’t know why they were here, on this couch. Levi on his knees. Van was the one who liked to crawl, to beg, to go to his knees. But Levi was here, hand and mouth on him, throat working him, fingertips gripping him. He wanted to ask why so he touched Levi’s head, slid his palm over him, down to his nape.
Levi released him, lifted his head.
“Levi.” In the darkness, Van couldn’t read his expression, but suddenly he felt the anger pouring off of Levi, felt the urgent rage in the fingertips digging into his hips.
Levi lurched upright, climbing onto Van, straddling him. “Don’t you fucking talk,” he hissed as he reached behind and palmed Van’s hard dick.
“Fuck.” He couldn’t help thrusting up into that touch, rolling his hips.
“You’re not there,” Levi whispered. “You’re not in my fucking bed.” He brought Van’s shaft to his hole and sank down.
“Ah God.” He was fucking soft. Slick. Hot and open. “Levi. Fuck. Babe.”
“Don’t.” Levi’s breath hitched and he leaned forward, mouth at Van’s forehead. “You’re not in my bed.” He sounded so heartbroken. “I dream you every night. I reach for you.” He rolled his hips and Van slid into him.
Deeper.
Goddamn. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, but God, Levi felt so fucking good.
“Seven years.” Lips on Van’s nose now, Levi kept moving, talking. “Seven years. I needed this,” he said. “I needed you.”
“I’m sorry.”
Levi slammed back on him, and the tight clasp short-circuited Van’s brain. He arched off the couch, lodging himself even deeper into Levi.
“God. God.” He gripped Levi’s hips. Tried to hold him still while urging him on. “Please.”
A hand settled over his mouth. “You don’t get to talk.” Levi rode him, muscles snug around his dick, the cock trapped between them dripping pre-cum onto Van’s belly.
Soaking him.
Sticking them together, not that Van needed that.
Slow and steady Levi moved, shaking in Van’s arms. Foreheads together, he said. “I go to bed needing you. I wake up hating you.”
Van closed his eyes against those words. They were as close as they could be, but so many things still separated them. His balls ached, dick throbbed as he held himself still. Luxuriating in it, their sex. Didn’t matter how. Never mattered where or when.
Their sex. That crack, an addiction Van could never shake.
“You hurt me so badly,” Levi said against Van’s cheek. “But when I open my eyes and find your side of the bed empty I think nothing hurts more than that.” He moved up and down, just his lower half, fucking himself on Van. Taking what he wanted. “Nothing hurts more than your absence.”
The pleasure was exquisite, for fucking sure. This was them. He and Levi. But in that moment, this was more than them fucking. More than his dick all up inside that luscious ass he’d been missing like crazy. Palm over his mouth, Levi’s body worked Van to the ultimate goal.
He used his tongue, flicking over Levi’s palm, moaning at the salt of his skin. The warmth of him.
“I need your skin,” Levi said in that hypnotic voice. “I need your heat. I need your body tonight. And I’m willing to say fuck my pride to get it.” He lifted his hand off Van’s mouth, kissed him hard and punishing.
Van clutched him, both hands on Levi’s naked back, holding him tight. Getting all up in his mouth, all up in his ass, taking whatever Levi wanted to give.
“Fuck pride,” Levi spoke against his mouth. “I want this…” He sat upright, muscles on a death grip around Van’s length.
“Ugh. Jesus. Fuck.”
“This,” Levi said above him, face in shadow. “When you’re in so fucking deep that it hurts. Hurt so good. I want this pain.” He took Van’s right hand, brought it to his chest. “I want that pain. Not this one.” He held Van’s hand over his chest. “Not the one in here that never goes away.”
Under Van’s palm, Levi’s heart raced.
He’d apologize again. Beg for forgiveness again, but Levi didn’t want Van’s words, did he? He wanted Van’s body. Van gave it to him, flipped them so that Levi was the one on his back, then Van went back on him, got right back up inside him as Levi spread his legs for him, sank fingers into his back as he clung to him.
He took his husband’s mouth, plunging his tongue in while thrusting in and out of him. They didn’t need words, not right then. They needed Levi’s gasps though, Van’s growls when those fucking muscles trapped him, squeezed him, milked him. They needed the roll of hips and Levi’s legs coming up to lock around him, ankles at his ass.
“Skin.” Van didn’t move his lips from Levi’s. “Fuck.” He shuddered, eyelids lowering, narrowing his gaze. “Fuck, babe, your skin on my skin. So much fucking good.”
Levi touched him lower, possessive grips on Van’s ass checks. He pushed back into that touch.
“Loving you.” He was shredded. Voice. Heart. “Been loving you for so Goddamn long.”
Levi undulated for him, underneath him, head twisting away, but Van caught him by the chin.
“I’m all in.” Van stroked in nice and deep. Froze. Stayed there for a minute as Levi killed him with that ass play. “Been all in since the first time you put it on me.”
They needed them. That magic that worked only when they were here, locked on each other. All in. Mouths and hands and dicks. They needed this.
Van needed it. Seven
years was too fucking long to go without a taste of this.
Heaven.
His favorite hot spot.
Levi sucked on Van’s tongue, hard, painful. And Van gave him what he wanted, the hurt. Driving into his ass, the couch creaking with each slam of his hips.
Hot skin sliding, teeth nipping. Their sex. This was just one aspect of it. Their tastes ran toward variety in the bedroom, and rarely did they go for the vanilla. But this vanilla right here?
Fucking best.
Levi as the vulnerable one? Rarely ever happened.
But this, they were changed. Van had changed them. In the morning he’d have to face that change head on. But tonight, in the shadows, he made love to his husband for the first time in eight years.
Fucked him rather.
Dick in ass. Over and again. No condoms, no barriers. Just them. Hot skin, slick with sweat. Hot breaths.
And them, the slide of their bodies creating all that fire.
Levi groaned into his mouth. Van swallowed it then ducked his head, licking Levi’s throat. Biting him. The body under him convulsed. He sucked on the spot he’d bitten, whole lotta sucking, whole lotta saliva. Levi clenched around him.
Impossibly tight. Indescribably painful.
Van gritted his teeth, ass muscles clenching tight. Felt like he was gonna come, shortest bust ever.
Then Levi arched, head going backward, the line of his throat exposed as he came.
Seven years.
The sight of his husband coming still had the same effect on Van.
Orgasm slammed into him, taking him by surprise. Levi contracted around him, wringing him dry as Van’s body flinched with every pulse of those muscles. Then he collapsed onto Levi.
In each other’s arms. After seven years it was the icing on the fucking cake, but it didn’t last but a second. Because Levi pushed Van off his still quivering body and climbed the stairs, his pajama bottoms in his hand.
Apparently he had no problems fucking Van. It was just the loving and forgiving part he had issues with.
Chapter Eight
