by David, Luna
“Let me go change then we can climb in and talk.”
Andy nodded and Jamie walked off, bag in hand, toward the bathroom to change into his sleep pants and long-sleeved t-shirt.
When he got back, Andy was already in his spot. Tickles curled up on his lap, purring.
The blankets were set up in the middle of the couch. They’d made a nest complete with the softest blankets under and over them, the large ottoman that usually sat against the wall replaced the coffee table so they could stretch out their legs, and on either side of the spots reserved for them to cuddle into were bags of chips and candy, bottles of water, and cans of soda. Of course, the remotes to the TV, cable box, and Blu-Ray player, as well as the game controllers for the PlayStation and Xbox, were in reaching distance.
It was a teenage boy’s dream space.
They’d been doing it since freshman year when Andy had his own apartment instead of a dorm because his parents thought money was the answer to everything. But they both had felt out of their element being eighteen and on their own for the first time.
Jamie climbed in next to Andy, shoulder to shoulder, got comfortable, and sighed.
Heaven.
“Okay, I’ve got soda and gummy bears. Talk.” Andy was always different after his parents visited.
He wasn’t just miserable. It was like that level of feeling shitty weighed Andy down too much for him to get lost in his own little world. He’d once explained to Jamie that after his parents left, getting lost in that world was harder because, in the back of his mind, it was filled with their utter disappointment in Andy and all the negativity they could throw at him.
Vegfest was his reset.
Jamie sighed and explained everything from the house party and forward—about their rules and boundaries, about the joy he’d felt in sharing Ronan and watching him with other submissive men, about the pure happiness of living together and the affection Ronan showed him every damn day. Then he told Andy about the distance and pain that grew between them when Ronan stopped their scenes with others, no explanation, no talking, no…nothing.
“Oh boy.”
“Yeah, ‘oh boy’ about sums it up,” Jamie replied.
Andy cleared his throat and put down his bag of gummy bears, turning to face Jamie.
“I think I may have something to do with this, but honestly, I thought it was no big deal. He even said it wasn’t and that it was okay to talk to him about it. Fuck, he even thanked me.” Andy’s words spilled out at a rapid pace as Jamie struggled to understand.
“Wait, Andy, what are you talking about?”
“The day you moved in with Ronan?” Andy asked, Jamie nodded. “He came to ask us about our food order, and then Brad left the room, so I took the opportunity to talk to him.” Andy went into full detail of the conversation he’d had with Ronan from start to finish.
When he was done, Jamie shook his head. “Oh, Andy.”
“Yeah, I think I screwed up again.”
Jamie reached across their blankets, grabbing Andy’s hand. “You didn’t screw up. You just don’t understand, and I get that because, at first, I didn’t either. I just wish you would’ve come to me first, you know?” Jamie asked, and Andy nodded sadly.
“I don’t blame you because although that was…not good, and maybe it contributed to what’s going on now, it didn’t cause Ronan not talk to me about what’s going on in his own head. I think he’s so used to taking care of others that being taken care of, or letting his own insecurities or needs be known, is not something he’s used to. But honestly, I don’t know because I feel like there’s a part of Ronan I don’t understand or know.” Jamie whispered the last part. That thought had been lurking in his mind for a while, hidden deep. He’d never wanted to believe it let alone say it out loud, but if he didn’t, it would just fester and grow. That wouldn’t help them at all.
Andy squeezed his hand, and said, “I’m sorry. I’ll apologize to him if it’ll help too. You’re my best friend. I just want you happy.”
Jamie wrapped his arm around Andy, squeezing him into his side, giving the comfort he’d originally come there to give. “I know, Andy. And I want the same for you, and someday, I’ll make sure you can have it.”
“Yeah. Like some hot guy is going to want my clumsy ass for more than a night.” Andy laughed it off but Jamie knew it was his hidden fear.
“He’s out there. Don’t you worry. Now, tell me how the ‘rents wreaked havoc on your week.”
For the rest of the night, Andy spilled, in extreme detail, everything said and done or not done. Jamie listened and comforted.
They fell asleep twisted together on the sofa, neither wanting to move to a bed. And when they woke up the next day cramped, they got up, stretched, toasted some unfrosted strawberry Pop-Tarts and started it all over again. In between eating the cure-all junk food, drinking their sugary soda, playing fighting and racing games, and watching a couple of their favorite movies, Andy vented and Jamie talked.
A couple hours after a lunch of pizza bites and Milky Ways, lost in their own little world, someone knocked on the door.
Jamie instinctively knew it was Ronan.
RONAN
Ronan couldn’t help himself. When Jamie shut the front door behind him, Ronan walked to the large window above the sink in the kitchen and watched as Jamie tossed his overnight bag in his passenger seat. He was just about to get in his car when he turned, as if feeling Ronan’s eyes on him, and locked gazes with him. Ronan raised his hand, acknowledging Jamie had seen him, and Jamie nodded before getting in his car and driving down the long driveway.
His gut churned. The disappointed look in Jamie’s eyes was testament to the pain and confusion Ronan had caused him. He’d done this to them. He’d been a coward and hadn’t talked to Jamie about his feelings. The fear of losing him overwhelmed Ronan until he’d stopped all scenes with anyone other than Jamie and himself in their own dungeon. He’d made a lot of assumptions and hadn’t stopped to think how confusing his actions must have seemed.
He’d assumed he was making the right decision, and that was the biggest thing Jamie had expressly asked him not to do from the beginning. He could see that now, in hindsight. He could see Jamie’s earnest face in his mind’s eye when they’d talked about contracts, limits, and safewords. Jamie didn’t want to be submissive to him always. He’d wanted to be submissive to Ronan in the bedroom and equal partners outside of the bedroom.
Ronan didn’t know what he expected, but somehow, he’d been blindsided by Jamie calmly taking the lead and demanding Ronan sort his shit out. Jamie had given him fair warning over the last couple weeks, asking what was wrong and if everything was okay. Ronan was stupid to think Jamie wouldn’t know him well enough to know something was going on.
He was so angry with himself that he’d let it get this far. He knew they weren’t breaking up. Yet. If Ronan had anything to say about it, they never would. Jamie wasn’t the type to end it with so many questions unanswered and so much up in the air. They both took their commitments seriously, and Ronan knew Jamie still loved him and believed he was loved in return. Jamie was just smart enough to call Ronan on his bullshit and force the issue to a resolution rather than letting it ruin what they had.
Watching him leave… Goddamn. It shredded him. Knowing Jamie would be back didn’t seem to help the matter. Ronan was a fucking mess, and he’d be the first to admit it. He’d give Jamie his space and help Andy, and Ronan would have lunch with Brad. Then they’d talk. Of course, it all sounded easy in theory, but he knew the next day would be painful.
Just the thought of the conversation they’d need to have stressed him out, and he didn’t understand why. He wasn’t the type to balk at serious conversations or shy away from hard discussions. He’d always been the type to dive in and solve problems. He supposed it was because he had so damn much to lose if things didn’t work out. Ronan had never loved anyone like he loved Jamie, and the thought of losing him was unbearable.
R
onan walked over to the liquor cabinet and got out some Crown Royal Black, poured himself two fingers and tossed in an ice ball. He knew he just needed to calm down and think about what he was going to say and how he was going to fix what he’d fucked up. As the first swallow of whiskey slid down, leaving a trail of warmth, he felt himself relax.
Letting out a pent-up breath, he leaned back against the counter and tossed back the rest in short order.
Maybe another wouldn’t hurt.
What the fuck was that incessant banging? Jesus Christ, whoever was doing it was going to die. Slowly and painfully. Did he have a scalpel? Of course, he had one. He always had one. That made Ronan feel a modicum of relief, realizing if he had to kill someone, he’d be prepared. He was sure there would be a perfect place, somewhere deep in his forest, to bury a body so it would never be found. Though, after some thought, he didn’t think his stomach would take too kindly to killing someone. He did have a ball gag or two downstairs. Couple that with some handcuffs or zip ties and he’d be golden. Though, somehow he knew even getting his ass out of bed would be a near impossible thing.
Ronan reached out, feeling for something to muffle the sound and groaned when he realized he wasn’t in his bed. He was on the couch. He didn’t want to think about why he was on the couch. It hurt his head too badly. There was already a steady throbbing there attuned to his heartbeat, and he was almost positive it was separate from the motherfucking banging going on. He pulled a throw pillow over his head, mumbling, “Go away,” to whoever had decided to interrupt his sleep. After another couple thumps, he grunted when the sound finally stopped.
Huh, a soundproof throw pillow.
Ronan felt himself drifting again and was happy for it. If he continued to sleep, he was sure the throbbing in his head would go away. A mental image of a tumbler filled with dark-amber liquid flashed through his mind, and he groaned again, remembering more than he was ready to handle at that moment. Shaking his head…well, it was probably more of a very slow shift of his head…perhaps he hadn’t even moved. Whatever. He knew all he had to do was go. Back. To. Sleep. So he repeated that in his head like a mantra. A new self-defense mechanism he thought rather brilliant.
Go. Back. To. Sleep. Go. Back. To. Sleep. Go. Back. To. Sleep. Go. Back—
“Bloody hell, Ronan. It smells like a distillery in here.”
The last thing Ronan expected to hear was Brad’s voice, let alone Brad’s voice so goddamn close. He turned his head to glance up and jolted at Brad’s face a mere foot away from him as he leaned his forearms on the back of the couch. Knocking himself clear off the couch and onto the floor, he hit his head on the way down. He grabbed the back of his head where it had connected with the corner of the table. “Ow! Fuck me!”
Hearing Brad’s chuckle, Ronan growled, “Get stuffed.” He gingerly got himself off the floor and sat on the offending table, glaring at his best friend. “What the hell are you doing here, anyway?”
Brad, still leaning over the couch, raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you remember we have lunch plans? And why are you sleeping on the couch? Where’s Jamie?”
Head pounding, regardless of the fact Brad was doing his best not to speak too loudly, Ronan groaned as he lowered his head into his hands. Leaning over, he balanced his elbows on his knees and scrubbed his face, gripping his hair and shaking his head. He sighed and admitted, “I fucked up.”
He only knew Brad had walked around the sectional because his feet suddenly came into view. Brad sat down where Ronan had slept in a drunken stupor and gently tugged Ronan’s hands out of his hair. When Ronan glanced up into Brad’s concerned eyes, his best friend winced, letting him know, without a doubt, he looked like shit. “What happened?”
Ronan shook his head, immediately realizing that was the last thing he should have done as he felt his brain banging about in his skull and his stomach roiling. He took deep breaths to ease his stomach, and Brad took pity on him. “Why don’t you go take a shower? I’ll make you a cup of tea and get you some painkillers. And once you’re feeling a bit better, I can see what you’ve got in the fridge and make us some lunch.”
Ronan grumbled, food not sounding good in the least. Brad chuckled as he stood, holding out his hand for Ronan’s. He helped Ronan stand and put a hand on his shoulder until he was steady on his feet. “Thanks.”
Brad grimaced and nodded his head in the direction of the bathroom. “Make brushing your teeth a priority.”
“Tosser.”
“Mmhmm. You’ll be thanking me later.”
Ronan waved him away as he walked toward the master bedroom, pulling off his shirt as he went. Thirty minutes later, the water heater nearly tapped out, he walked into the kitchen and sat down at the island. He took the pills Brad had left on the counter, drinking them down and finishing the full glass of water. Next up, Brad placed a steaming-hot cup of his favorite tea in front of him which he nursed slowly, his nausea mostly gone and his headache slowly dissipating.
Finally, Ronan glanced up at Brad, who was leaning back against the kitchen counter, a cup of his own tea in hand. When their gazes met, Brad stayed silent, waiting him out. Ronan sighed, took another drink of tea, and said, “I had no idea it was half past one. I’m sorry I missed lunch.”
Brad waved it away, his concern clear. He stepped up to the island and took a banana out of the fruit bowl. “Eat this for now and talk to me, Ronan. What happened?”
Ronan slowly ate the banana as he explained everything. How he felt, why he was scared, what he’d done about it, how Jamie felt, and everything that had been said the night before. When he was done, they just looked at each other silently. Finally, Brad shook his head. “I’m just shocked your breakup with Toby is still affecting you so much.”
Ronan jerked his head back, raising his gaze to meet Brad’s, completely shocked by what his best friend had just said. “What are you on about? I haven’t thought of Toby in years.”
Brad gave him a pointed look but turned to the fridge and got out eggs and bacon. Ronan didn’t stop him, realizing he was feeling better and hunger might actually be what was gnawing at his stomach rather than the remains of his regrettable bender the night before. That, or just the thought of Toby was rotting his gut from the inside out. He couldn’t understand why in the hell Brad would say such a thing, but he knew he just had to wait him out until he felt like talking.
He watched as Brad went about making them breakfast for lunch. He got up to make them both a new cup of tea. Grabbing napkins and cutlery for their meal, Ronan took them to the table as Brad filled their lunch plates with eggs and bacon and brought them over. They both tucked into their food, eating half of it before they spoke again.
Brad looked at him, half a piece of toast in his hand, fork in the other. “You’ve let what happened with Toby color your perception of this issue with Jamie.”
“I haven’t. Toby hasn’t even crossed my mind.”
“Maybe not, but the situation itself has obviously found a place to fester and rot in that brilliant brain of yours. How can you not see it?”
Ronan leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Because it’s rubbish.”
“Ronan, what makes you think Jamie isn’t going to want what you guys have made such a huge part of your relationship? Has he said something?”
“No.” Brad raised a brow, so Ronan continued, “He didn’t say anything, but hasn’t wanted to go to parties and…”
“And, what? How often has he turned your suggestions down for scenes?”
Ronan huffed and glanced away, shaking his head. “Once.”
Brad’s eyes grew wide. “Once?! And you’ve taken it upon yourself to stop all other activity? You haven’t allowed him to watch any scenes? Ronan, this has become a huge part of who he is. Discovering all of this about himself has been a big deal. And yeah, you’ve been together for around six months, but think about how much you and I experimented with our kinks when we first learned about them. He’s just in the beginning stage
s, and you’ve cut him off at the knees because you’re afraid he’s going to pull a Toby on you.”
Ronan’s head jerked back. “What the hell are you talking about? I don’t… That’s not…”
Brad rested his hand on Ronan’s forearm. “You’re scared to death he’s going to leave you because you refuse to be monogamous.”
“I’m not. That’s not what this is. Andy said—”
He cut himself off, not wanting to get into it. But Ronan knew from the look on Brad’s face, he’d gone too far mentioning that. Brad was like a dog with a bone when he wanted to get to the bottom of something, and the more they talked, the more unsure Ronan felt. Had he been subconsciously worried about exactly what Brad was suggesting?
Jesus.
Brad squeezed his arm and spoke softly, as if not wanting to spook him. “Andy said what?”
Pulling his arm out from under Brad’s, he scrubbed his face, gripping his hair in his fists again. He looked up at Brad feeling tortured. “Andy said I was cheating on Jamie with other men, and Jamie was worth more than that.”
Brad shook his head. “Surely you don’t think Jamie feels that way. He doesn’t seem like the type of man to be unable to speak his mind. He’s strong, Ronan. And, quite honestly, I think he’s the best thing to ever happen to you. Think about it. Has he led you to believe that or said anything remotely close to that?”
So many emotions were zooming around in Ronan’s mind, most of them too fast for him to catch and examine any closer. But when he focused just on Brad’s question, he had to be honest. Shaking his head, Ronan admitted, “No, but he—”
“No. No buts, Ronan. Think about what you’re doing. Think about how he’s feeling, how confused and hurt he is. You won’t talk to him about how you feel, so he’s left to make assumptions. And his assumptions about what is going on are probably about as bad as your assumptions regarding what he’s feeling.”
