All Wheel Drive

by Z. A. Maxfield

  Stupid pride.

  Stupid stubborn asshole mouth.

  He could put on the sex playlist, light candles, and crab-walk into Healey sideways, but coming at him straight on, the way Healey took on the world . . .

  He didn’t know how to do that.

  “You comfortable like this?” Healey’d switched off the big screen. For a long moment, Diego saw only the huge purple spot it left in his vision. “Can I stretch out?”

  Diego nodded. “Go ahead.”

  Healey shifted around so his head was in Diego’s lap and his feet dangled over the couch’s arm.

  “’S’nice.” Healey closed his eyes while Diego messed with his hair.

  “What is it with this hairstyle?” Diego rubbed his fingers over the buzzed-off hair at Healey’s nape. “Can’t make up your mind?”

  “Next you’ll say I need to turn off my rock and roll records and get a job.”

  Diego let his head fall back against the couch cushions. “You thought about what you’ll do now?”

  Healey shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “I thought guys like you were recruited by the Illuminati out of middle school.”

  Healey’s laughter shook Diego’s lap. “My pop must love you.”

  “Your pop is a scream.”

  “You aren’t the first person to say that. Some people actually screamed when they said it.” He turned his head and kissed Diego’s palm. “I’ve had job offers, but so far nothing’s come in on the Illuminati’s letterhead. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Are you going to teach?”

  “Hell no. I’ve been in school since I was two and a half. It’s time I saw the world from outside the bubble.”

  Diego brushed his fingers over Healey’s cast. “What’s next, then, after this?”

  “I’ll probably travel until my savings run out. Six months, maybe a year if I stretch things out. Strip for tips.”

  “You should get yourself an old VW van or something. Just fucking drive around America and see it from the ground. It’s amazing out there. My mom and me, we used to put a pin in a map and take off. I’d do my homework while she drove. We stayed in the crappiest motels. Sometimes she left me with friends at night.”

  Healey didn’t appear to share his enthusiasm. “Sounds like that sucked.”

  “I didn’t know better.” He smoothed Healey’s T-shirt. “As I go through her papers, I’m discovering things about her I never knew. You know she had some kind of secret hobby? In fact, I think you broke that story.”

  “I did?” Healey opened his eyes.

  “You know that picture you made notes about?”

  “The cute pic with the car and the Coke sign? Your mom looked young in that.”

  “I think my mom altered that sign. If I’m right, it’s not the only time she ever left a private joke behind.”

  “For real?”

  Diego shrugged. “Nobody knows what went on in my mom’s head. It certainly seems like something she’d do.”

  “I don’t remember my mother.” He glanced down.

  “Mami was a free spirit.” Diego had a head full of memories. Some, he wouldn’t trade for a solid-gold mountain, and some he’d just as soon burn. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she was responsible for the Nazca Lines.”

  A shy smile curved Healey’s lips. “Secrets are as cool as trap doors. Can I help?”

  “It’s out of my hands for a while. I sent my stepfather copies of the photographs and Mami’s corresponding notes. Family project.”

  Healey’s slow blink seemed more sleepy than seductive. “Sounds like a good thing for everybody.”

  “You’re such a glass-half-full guy.” Diego ignored the mild itch from his eyebrow piercing. “Like a kid.”

  “I’m not naive.” With a regretful sigh, he sat up. “I should probably get going.”

  “You have to?”

  “Imma fall asleep here if I don’t. Pop and Fjóla will worry.”

  Diego let it go. They stretched and yawned in tandem, making Healey chuckle self-consciously. He truly was a nervous laugher. Maybe they’d play poker sometime. The information could be lucrative.

  Diego brushed Healey’s hair off his face. Soothing, smoothing his hands over Healey’s shoulders and back. Healey melted beneath his touch, pushing forward, trying to get closer. When Healey nuzzled into the junction of Diego’s neck and shoulder, they both let out little sighs.

  Christ.

  Am I petting him?

  He’s digging it. Oh hell yeah.

  Yeah, I’m petting him. That’s a goddamn haiku, right there.

  “You’re fun.” Surprised to find how sincerely he meant the words, Diego cupped Healey’s face and kissed him again.

  Green and disreputable, Healey broke away. A lazy smile stretched over his face. “I haven’t made out like that in years.”

  “What’d you think? Thumbs up or down?” Diego asked.

  “You don’t know?” There was nothing discreet about Healey’s dick. Hard the whole time, it stretched his jeans enough to be resurfaced by them, plus he’d leaked a pool of pre-come like a blinking neon sign.

  “That’s so hot.” Diego’s mouth watered while he contemplated what, if anything, he should do about Healey’s erection.

  It would be nothing for him to blow Healey. He’d actually enjoy the hell out of it. But giving a dude a blowjob just because he was hard felt like paying for his company in some way—a joyless, unwanted obligation.

  Even though he was into Healey, the whole situation felt strange and complicated. The other dude’s expectations mattered. The look on his face mattered. He was an audience Diego could lose, even after he’d told all his best jokes.

  Plus, once he got past the indecision, he’d require prep. Like a corpse at a banquet, Diego’s problems weren’t going to magically disappear when he figured out where to sit.

  But wait . . . This was Healey. He liked Healey.

  He wanted Healey to like him back.

  Taking hold of Healey’s belt buckle, he tugged. “I could take care of you, if you want.”

  Healey’s head tilted like he was listening to angels. His expression said he’d been afraid this was going to happen, and now it had. Maybe he was working out how to let Diego down? Alternatively, he could have been wondering how it’d look if he took Diego up on the offer of a blowjob without returning the favor.

  Get your dick sucked with no reciprocity and look like a Grade-A asshat, or go home with blue balls. Can I show a guy a good time, or what? Diego would have given anything in his possession to never see that expression on Healey’s face again.

  “No.” Healey smiled his regrets. “Some other time.”

  “Sure,” Diego nodded. Tried not to look disappointed.

  Wait.

  If Healey regretted and Diego was disappointed, they were both on the wrong page. “For the record: I’d actually love to suck your dick.”

  Having to say that out loud made his whole body blush.

  Blue eyes studied his. Looking for sincerity? He’d probably used his allotment up in kindergarten. He was not that guy.

  “You mean that?” Healey asked.

  “Don’t think I like sucking dick?” Healey’s belt buckle was turning out to be a pretty good handle. He dragged Healey closer and brushed the knuckle of his other hand across the bulge in Healey’s jeans. “Don’t you?”

  “Oh, I do.” Healey’s eyes sparkled. “Very much indeed.”

  Baldly, Diego shook his head. “I don’t ejaculate.”

  “I do.” Healey’s fingers drifted over Diego’s cheek. His thumb rested lightly on Diego’s barbell. “Unless you tell me not to.”

  What?

  Oh! Breathless, dry-mouthed, Diego considered the possibilities Healey’s invitation presented. “Yeah?”

  “I won’t like it.” Healey’s creeping flush told him otherwise. “I might even struggle a little.”

  Keeping a small smile hidden, Diego gave him the badass eyes.
“It’ll go harder on you if you struggle. I might have to tie you up.”

  Subtle tension grew in Healey’s elegant, muscled frame.

  “Why doesn’t this feel like a test to you?” Diego wondered out loud. “You don’t like taking tests. You have exam anxiety, you said so.”

  “This”—Healey let his hands drop to his sides—“is a game, not a test.”

  “And you like games.”

  “I love games.” The word itself was a sigh of relief.

  Diego had never guessed how deep his freak-streak ran before he met Healey Holly, but there wasn’t going to be any doubt after. Healey Holly was a living doll. A life-size, good-looking action figure of the analyst type rather than the agent type. And he was asking to be played with, hard.

  Balloons and confetti didn’t fall from the ceiling, but Diego thanked God for—and didn’t question—his good fortune. He must have climbed on board the kink train too quickly though, because Healey’s smile evaporated.

  “Um.” Healey caught Diego’s hand before he could take down his zipper. “Just don’t be mean.”

  Diego froze. “Am I mean? Have I been—”

  “No.” Healey shook his head. “You’re aloof.”

  “Because—”

  “Don’t say cruel things to me. Don’t humiliate me. Some guys dig that, but I don’t.”

  “Ah.” Limits. Diego got it. Wouldn’t think limits would come up with a guy like Healey. “You do this a lot?”

  “Some.”

  Irritation, like sand in his shorts, made Diego ask, “Don’t tell me, Ford was into this?”

  “I’m into this.” Healey’s tone made him look up. Ford was apparently a sore spot. Of course he was. Blue eyes glistened. “Ford has nothing to do with what happens between us.”

  “A’ight.” Sold. Can I touch you now?

  Real sensitive, asshole.

  He held up his hand, and Healey walked into it. It caught him squarely in the gut. Feeling possessive and full of shit, Diego gave his belly a good rub.

  “Get in my bed.”

  Healey’s hesitated. “Okay. But you don’t have to do the thing.” He mimed using a hypodermic.

  “I wasn’t planning to. I have to pee.”

  Healey nodded, eyes gentle. He had to know Diego used a catheter. He’d guess, at any rate. He’d know it was private. What was he standing there for?

  “Would you ask me for help if you needed anything?”

  “I would. But I don’t.”

  Please, let this be the only time you ask me that.

  Except, it’s never the only time.

  Healey leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be in your bed.”

  As Healey padded away on his soft hipster feet, he practically glowed from the calm he exuded. Goddamn him. Diego rolled angrily into the second bathroom where he could get ready in private.

  Footsteps outside the door made Diego’s mouth dry. A knock sounded.

  “I wanted to say”—breathless-voiced Healey—“when I said I wasn’t afraid of . . . anything about . . . I’m not squeamish about medical shit. I’m strong and good with my hands. I’ve given injections. It’s um . . . not a hobby or anything but—”

  Diego sighed. “You got a point to make?”

  “Not really.”

  Minutes passed.

  Another knock, this time, more insistent. “Wait. I do have a point. If you like your privacy, fine. But if you’re hiding back here because you think I can’t handle the shit show, I’ve had season tickets for ten years.” Footsteps, heading away again.

  Right.

  He’s right.

  “Healey?” Footsteps slowed. Returned. “Think of it like this: until we’ve dated awhile, the bathroom doors stay closed.”

  Healey asked, “It’s a preference, then?”

  “Yes.”

  “So if we keep the bathroom door closed, we preserve the mystery for that much longer. Is that what you’re saying?”

  Diego sagged with relief. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “So we’re dating!” Footsteps, quicker this time, carried the voice away. “I fucking knew it.”

  While he waited for Diego, Healey explored the bed like a bored cat, testing the rings and straps. Imagining the possibilities. He figured he had a while, so he was hanging over the edge, looking beneath the tailored bed skirt when he heard Diego roll in.

  He gave a quick glance up and saw Diego wearing nothing but briefs.

  Also a frown. “What are you doing?”

  “Just looking. There’s not a single dustball under there.” Healey studied the empty, immaculate space. “What is wrong with you?”

  “I can operate a dust mop with great efficiency.”

  “It’s not the fact that you can use one.” Healey backed onto the mattress. “It’s that you do which has me in awe.”

  When Diego reached for him, Healey scooted back.

  “Can you—” Healey bit his lip “—I don’t know. Meet me up here on the bed?”

  “I guess.” Positioning his chair and locking the wheels, Diego gripped the rings to hoist himself up. Once seated, he grabbed his legs and used momentum and leverage to position himself.

  “Never seen a bed like this before.” Healey ran an admiring hand over the bars of the headboard. “Custom?”

  Diego nodded. “It’s a permanent installation. We’ll have to cut it up to get it out of here.”

  “It’s badass. You think it could support a sex swing?”

  Color surfaced on Diego’s cheeks. “I’m not getting in a sex swing.”

  “Never said anything about you.”

  “Healey—” Diego’s tone spelled doom for the idea.

  “Uh-oh.” Healey flopped down beside him. “I’m getting too far ahead again?”

  “Little bit.” Diego covered his eyes with his forearm. “I know you understand about these things. Your sister—”

  “We tell Shelby she can do anything she wants to do.”

  “That’s because you’re a well-meaning idiot and a total and complete clod.”

  “That’s not fair—”

  “Shelby can’t do anything she wants.” Diego propped himself up on his elbows, changed his mind, and pushed himself to sitting with his back against the headboard. “She has a spinal cord injury that makes it impossible for her to do certain things, despite your cheerleading, despite your best intentions. You don’t have a fucking clue.”

  “Nobody knows someone else’s pain,” Healey muttered. “But there’s empathy. There’s compassion. I can use my ingenuity to try to help and that’s no small thing, right?”

  Diego swallowed. “I don’t want that.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you would.” Healey tucked his good arm behind his head.

  “You like rough sex?” Diego asked. “It’s really your thing? Not a whim? You want a lifetime of that?”

  “Little bit,” Healey echoed Diego’s earlier words. “I have to stop thinking, sometimes. Being restrained helps. Ford showed me.”

  Diego groaned. “Did Ford also show you how a paraplegic might accomplish that on a regular basis?”

  “Sorry.”

  Diego let his head fall back. “Don’t be. You need what you need. But take into consideration that it could be sort of scary for me.”

  “I’m sure—”

  “Don’t. God. Just let me say this. We can’t fuck as hard as we both want because—” he started snickering before he could even finish the sentence “—I’m a delicate flower.”

  They laughed together, even though it wasn’t funny.

  “I don’t see you that way.” Healey laced their fingers together.

  “Doesn’t matter what you see,” Diego said. “Doesn’t matter how I front. You know this. You have to know. Did Shelby live in denial too? Or did you all do that for her too?”

  Hurt, Healey paused. He sat up on his haunches and stared into Diego’s eyes, refusing him anywhere to hide. “Why is it I always feel l
ike I’m playing checkers and you’re playing chess?”

  “I have to protect—”

  “Your skin, I know. And your heart. And your dignity.” As he spoke, Healey found new places to kiss, an exposed dimple, a promising smile line next to Diego’s closed eye, a vulnerable earlobe. “You have to protect your autonomy. Your independence. You have to protect your self-concept, and by that I mean how you see yourself and how you want the world to see you. How am I doing?”

  Diego pursed his lips. “Pretty good.”

  Healey wished he had a picture of Diego’s frown just then. Pout. Pout/frown. Frout. “I understand all those things. Just not the same way you do.”

  “Then what are we doing?” There went that chin shooting up. Unmistakably Hit me with your best shot, I can take it, and I dare you. It said, I’ll outlast all my disappointments, including you.

  “Shh.” Healey eased himself up. “I’m just saying.”

  He ran the fingers of his cast hand over Diego’s shoulder. Down his arm.

  When Diego would have spoken, Healey kissed him.

  “Let me try, okay?” Healey shifted closer. “Tell me where you trust me to touch you.”

  He held his hands out, palms open, and waited. Meeting his gaze, Diego took them and placed them on his chest. “Here.”

  “Okay.” Healey stroked the skin of Diego’s nearly hairless chest. Nipples pebbled in anticipation. He couldn’t resist tasting one.

  He ran the tips of his fingers down Diego’s arms. Massaged the palm of one hand, then the other.

  “How about here?” Touching Diego, stroking rhythmically over his skin was soothing to him too. Comforting, like petting a cat. “This okay?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  He retraced his path, drawing his hands back up Diego’s arms, down his pecs and chest and belly. “Can I go lower?”

  Diego nodded before closing his eyes. That slight hesitation served as a caution flag.

  Slower, slower.

  “I’ll wait until you trust me.”

  Diego licked his lips. “I don’t know why you want to touch what I can’t feel.”

  “I’m greedy.” This wasn’t the first time he’d admitted it. “I’m impatient.”