All Wheel Drive

by Z. A. Maxfield

  “But I know what I need,” Healey said. “I know what I want.”

  “And what’s that?”

  Healey dragged his hands through his damp hair. “To tell you, I have to confess something.”

  “What?” Diego braced himself for anything.

  “I’ve never had to worry about anything except passing a test. Can you imagine?”

  “Not really.”

  “I can say unequivocally I do not have a fetish. I am attracted to people who have faced adversity. I’m attracted to people I perceive as strong. People who live lives outside the bubble of academia and—”

  “That’s only another kind of fetish,” Diego said slowly. “People are pre-programmed to survive.”

  “I understand that. My sister would kill me for saying any of this.”

  “And?”

  “I told you. I can’t compartmentalize you. I admire your strength. I admire your sense of humor. Your poise. None of that has anything to do with the chair, except in my mind you and the chair are inextricably linked.”

  “Fuck you,” Diego said angrily. “I don’t know which is worse. Care-taking or hero-worship.”

  “That’s just it!” Healey snapped. “You need to hear all these things I have in my head and then you’ll be able to decide, am I that guy? Am I the guy who doesn’t get it because they’re wrapped up in the momentary idea of being with you, the guy who wants to care give or the curious guy or the one who fetishizes you? Or am I a guy trying to see past all that to who you are?”

  Diego frowned. “You make a point.”

  “You’re smart and funny and because of your disability I see you as resilient. I admire resilient people. I can’t promise I’d feel the same way if you were able-bodied, because I never met you before. And I worry about everything, all the time, so that’s me being an—”

  “Ass.” Diego watched Healey’s big confession with a jaundiced eye. “You’re being an ass.”

  “I don’t know if I like you for you,” Healey stated baldly. “I do like you very much, but I can’t promise my motives are strictly pure. You deserve someone who—”

  “Oh for God’s sake, do you talk this much all the time?” Diego’s heart lifted. Warmed. What-the-fuck-ever. Was Healey even capable of subterfuge? The way his mouth ran on, Diego doubted it. Laughter bubbled up inside him.

  Healey narrowed his eyes. “Um—”

  “That was a rhetorical question.” Diego rolled forward and gripped Healey by his belt buckle. “Stop.”

  “What?”

  “Healey. I trust you.” As soon as the words were out of Diego’s mouth, he realized he meant every single one. He trusted Healey’s motives and his kindness. He trusted his empathy. He could trust him as a lover, too, because Healey was simply . . . good. He was a good man. “I see you too, you know.”

  Healey’s mouth opened, then he closed it again. “Yeah?”

  “Yes.” Diego imbued the word with finality.

  Despite Diego’s shy smile, Healey still didn’t leave the safety of the wall. “What now?”

  Diego gripped Healey’s hands, willing him to pay attention. “Now you stop second-guessing. Because I know what’s here, papi. I understand you. You understand me. Let’s get this party started.”

  Diego jerked his head, indicating Healey should follow.

  His bedroom was just down the hall.

  Holy fuck. Round three was on the horizon.

  Jesus. Diego gathered Healey into his arms, half-asleep, half-aroused. A minute ago Healey had seemed sated. Now he was rubbing little circles on Diego’s back. Smiling lazily. Offering kisses that drew Diego in, teased him, tempted him to risk just a little more of himself—a little more of his privacy and his autonomy—with each interaction.

  Healey, it seemed, risked everything, all the time.

  He existed in a perpetual state of “all-in.” Minutes ticked by while Healey dazzled him with shy kisses. Somehow, they wrestled into a not-too-uncomfortable position. Healey looked down at him, fingers on his good hand tweaking Diego’s nipples, smoothing his armpits. Stroking his earlobes.

  Oh. Who’d think that’d feel so awesome?

  The spot on his ribs, just above the flat places he could no longer—

  “Motherfucker.” Diego gave a crazy laugh when the wave of pleasure hit him like a weirdly erotic hiccup. Or . . . no words for that sensation. None.

  He let silken lethargy settle into his bones while Healey pushed against him. Their cocks rubbed together—Healey’d lubed up again, and he was being so careful.

  It was hard to think with Healey close. He smelled so good.

  “May I move your legs?”

  Diego froze.

  May I, instead of can I. So . . . polite. A well-brought-up boy, he’d asked nicely.

  But the translation: Can I position you like an inanimate object?

  Can I move the parts you cannot feel for my pleasure?

  Ohgodohgodohgod.

  “Give me a sec,” he said gruffly, calling time-out on the play.

  Not because he wanted to halt Healey’s forward motion. And definitely not because he couldn’t say no. Diego called a time-out to double-check: Is this what I want?

  Healey was too important to leave his feelings to chance. Being with Healey was a choice and that choice had consequences. If Diego said yes, it meant he was giving Healey his unqualified trust, and there would be no going back from that.

  “Yes.” How easy was that?

  “Are you sure? I have your permission?”

  “Revocable at any time,” Diego qualified. “You understand?”

  “Always.” Healey’s fierce gaze set off a depth charge of hope in Diego’s chest. “Say the word.”

  “Yes.” Diego wrapped one arm around Healey’s neck and pulled him down. “Yes . . . Yes . . . Yes.”

  Healey slipped between Diego’s legs, going so carefully he trembled—not with the effort of holding himself up, but of holding himself back from penetrating Diego instead of simulating it.

  That had to be killing him.

  “Wait,” Diego said suddenly.

  “What?” Healey’s cock wilted between them.

  “Jesus, you’re literal. We could—” He gulped. “You could.”

  “What?” Healey asked again.

  “Penetrate me.” He glanced at the ceiling above Healey’s head. Was that ceiling fan dusty?

  “I thought that was like crossing the streams.” The one thing you could say about Healey, he was responsive to changes in mood . . . “I thought we don’t do that because Bad Things can happen.”

  “I like getting fucked.” Excruciating to say those words. “But with a medical vibrator. Just—”

  “Ah . . . Okay. I’ll be careful.” Healey traced his lips with little kisses. Dotted them over his face and chest. “And if at any point you decide it’s not what you want, or whatever, no worries.”

  “Fuck off.” He turned his suddenly too-hot face to the side. “I’m not made of glass.”

  That was how Diego let Healey inside him.

  Inside his body.

  Inside his heart.

  Healey took his responsibility like a sacred obligation. He was so deliberate, Diego had to tell him to get on with it more than once.

  Only two fingers to work him open. That was far enough. He gave Healey some lube and a condom-covered, remote-controlled vibrating device to slip inside him. He worked the controls while Healey used Diego’s Frankencock to get himself off.

  God, he wished he didn’t have to think about sex.

  Thinking about it made it matter-of-fact any way you looked at— Oh.

  That was nice.

  Whatever the vibrator was doing below, Healey hadn’t let up with his good hand. He was brushing his thumb over Diego’s nipples while he lifted himself on and off Diego’s cock.

  Ooh. Healey scraped his nail over Diego’s nub just so—

  “Oh. That, Mr. Wizard. Do that.”

  “Mmm.”
Healey used his teeth where his nail had been. The Force was strong with him. He learned well. And once Diego emptied his mind of all the reasons he couldn’t do it, post-SCI-sex turned out to be almost like every other kind of sex he’d had. It was embarrassing and funny and silly and gruesome.

  It was as easy as falling off another mountain bike—boom! He flew upside down again—this time figuratively. Floating, falling. They strained and crashed together. Dipped and spun and rose and fell. Fucked in whatever way made sense in the moment.

  The vibrator added an elusive warmth—a rush so heady it left him gasping with laughter. God help him if Healey saw. There might have been a couple of unmanly tears.

  Despite the antispasmodic meds, in the middle of everything, his jumpy goddamn legs took off on their own, going all Andreas Fault 8.0 earthquake, shaking the entire bed, rattling the chains like he was Frankenstein’s Monster—all of which gave Healey a ride he’d probably never forget.

  “Ah, Christ, I’m coming.” Healey gasped. “Ah, shit. Wow.”

  And suddenly, the vibrator was no longer Diego’s new best friend.

  “Get it out.” Aftershocks. Diego’s entire upper body warmed so fast his vision grayed. “Get it out.”

  Healey removed the vibrator gently and laid it aside before shoving a pillow beneath Diego’s head. “Problems? Autonomic dysreflexia? You said you had a T11, and I—”

  “No. It wasn’t that. I think—” Diego fell back, exhausted. “It was just too much stimulation.”

  Healey curled next to him. “What’s it feel like?”

  “The vibrator? I don’t feel it.” Diego shrugged. “I get a warmth, a rush. Imagine having a climax you can’t feel. It still does all that heart racing, head spinning shit.”

  Dizzying, pleasurable sensations that made his whole body burn. Whatever chemicals had been dumped into his bloodstream gave him the post-fuck lassitude he remembered from before the accident. Like ripples crossing his skin, leaving him flushed and relieved, relaxed and ready for sleep.

  For a change, he had no regrets.

  None.

  He even let Healey clean things up without complaining because if this was a thing—if they were going to do this thing—well . . .

  Healey deserved “normal” sometimes too.

  “You okay?” Healey’s concern was touching. Embarrassing. Misguided. “I mean, that was wild, man. Does that leg thing happen often?”

  “Sometimes.” Diego gritted his teeth. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t always have to be so tough.”

  “It’s not like I can turn it off.” Diego shot him a wry grin. “I’m a tough hombre.”

  “But you feel good?” Healey’s voice was mild. Pleasant. Not invasive. Just . . . right.

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “God, yeah.”

  His legs rattled a little more, so he repositioned them with a sigh.

  “You look good.” Healey traced a finger down Diego’s nose, over his lips, into the space just underneath. “Can you grow a soul patch?”

  “Yeah. I was thinking about it, actually.”

  “How about a little beard?”

  “You’d like that?”

  “A little scruff, maybe,” Healey admitted before licking a long line up Diego’s throat. “Yeah.”

  “I can forget to shave for a couple days. I’m on vacation. I’m not sure what it will look like. I don’t grow a lot of facial hair.”

  Healey hesitated. “I’m on vacation too, so to speak. You want to go somewhere?”

  “Like a road trip?” Healey nodded. “Where?”

  “Down the coast? Across the border into Canada? I like Chicago. Kansas City. What floats your boat?”

  Diego rolled himself to his side, facing Healey. “Don’t you have doctor appointments and shit?”

  “Yeah.” Healey gave his shoulder a careful roll. “The cast comes off my arm in two weeks. And I’ll probably need some therapy.”

  “Maybe we should wait until you’re one hundred percent.”

  Healey’s disappointment showed.

  “What?”

  “I don’t want to wait.” Healey rolled to his back, letting his head fall on the pillow. “But you’re right. I feel like there’s this huge pile of unfinished business hanging over me. I can’t really begin anything again, I shouldn’t start anything new until—”

  “Ford.” Diego said the word tightly, but that wasn’t fair. Things were awkward. They were new together. They both had ghosts that needed exorcising.

  Healey nodded slowly. “I need to see Ford one more time. I want to forgive him face-to-face. Say goodbye and wish him well. I have to. He won’t talk to me on the phone. He may not even see me. But I can’t move forward until I do.”

  Diego was silent for a long time. “Fair enough.”

  “Backup would be awesome. Not—not when I see him. But I don’t know if I could face the trip alone.”

  “You’re not alone. You have Nash. Your family.”

  Healey shook his head. “Not for this. They’re too close. Too—angry on my behalf. They took everything between me and Ford too personally. It’s not about that. I just have to speak my piece, and—”

  Diego nodded. “Okay. I’ll ride with you, if you want. I’m in.”

  Healey caught his hand and kissed it. “I appreciate that more than I can say.”

  “I need something from you, too.”

  “Yeah? Name it.”

  Diego paused. Goddamn it, he only had to ask. Why was that so hard?

  He swallowed. “My stepfather is getting remarried on New Year’s Eve. Will you come with me?”

  “A wedding?” The tension left Healey’s body. “Oh, Christ. The way you were acting, I thought it was going to be something like a class reunion or one of my kidneys. Of course I’ll go.”

  Healey’s whole body relaxed. Obviously he’d never been to a Luz family wedding. He was gonna look back on this moment.

  Oh, yeah. He’d learn . . .

  Diego wrapped both arms around him. Their eyes met again, Healey’s blue ones were so full of warmth. God, Healey was sexy. Sinewy. His hair slithered over Diego’s shoulders like he was some hipster saint, come to perform a miracle.

  Diego strained against laughter, but then he said fuck it and let it go. Healey laughed with him like it was contagious.

  So then they were kissing and laughing. Healey’s chest hair scrubbed across his nipples. Their sweat-soaked skin stuck together, and Healey’s beard stubble burned. Droplets of sweat snaked down Diego’s skin—more flowing tendrils of new sensation.

  For the second time, Diego forgot all the things he needed to remember.

  Stupid, stupid to fall for a fearless boy.

  Healey sighed. “You think you could get me a towel? No way am I leaving this bed right now.”

  “You think.” Diego reached into the nightstand and grabbed a couple of wipes for him. “Here.”

  Healey’s expression went from sated to serious. “Need me to go?”

  “Not yet . . .” Diego rocked up, used momentum to drop his legs over the side of the bed, and transferred. “Let me be a decent host.”

  Reaching for a pillow, Healey subsided onto the mattress. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m not sure about anything anymore.” Diego made his way to the bathroom to get towels, and on the way back, he opened the refrigerator and pulled out some water bottles.

  Healey’s eyes were on him the whole way, making him as self-conscious and tongue-tied as he had been the first time he brought a man home. That was back when he could carry a dude up several flights of stairs and throw him down and fuck him through the mattress.

  That was back when he could give Healey what he needed.

  “What’s that face for?” Healey asked.

  “Water and a towel.” He handed them over. “Your majesty.”

  “Nuh-uh.” Healey propped his head up on his hand. “You don’t get to roll off and come back with an attitude. Come up here.”
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  Still desperate to make a good impression, but as out of his element as a landed fish, Diego gripped the rings to pull himself onto the bed.

  Healey drew in a quick breath. “That is my new favorite floor show.”

  Diego flushed. Okay. So, Healey admired his body. There was no mistaking that. Healey dug his muscles.

  And he can barely take his eyes off my mouth.

  Diego promised himself he wouldn’t get caught up in how hot that was. Greedy eyes, looking at him like that. He didn’t want to get too used to such a thing. He fell to the bed, allowing himself to be scooped up, folded into the sleepy embrace of a lover.

  First time in years.

  Felt like the first time ever.

  Breathlessly, he examined the wonder of fate. The sheer cosmic coincidences that had to happen before he ran into Healey Holly. His accident, his change in careers, his mother’s death, which led to settling in Bluewater Bay.

  Ford’s illness, his breakdown, the accident, everything that led Healey home.

  No matter what, he wasn’t about to block a play like that one. Not when all the forces of the universe seemed lined up to make it happen.

  Whether Healey believed in that sort of thing or not.

  Healey’s eyes drifted open when the sun was high enough in the sky to crack through the mini blinds. Shafts of light arrowed across the floor while pale-yellow sunshine drizzled over the foot of the bed.

  Diego’s lashes lifted a second later, as if he knew Healey was wide-awake and watching him. He captured Healey’s jaw, a smile ghosting over his lips. “Pretty boy.” Diego blinked sleepily. “This isn’t so bad.”

  “Ouch.” Healey rubbed his nose to Diego’s. “That’s some faint, faint praise you got there.”

  “I meant waking up with you in my face.” Diego shoved an errant pillow more securely under his head. “Last night was . . .”

  Healey waited.

  And waited some more . . .

  “Off the charts?” he finally supplied. “Off the hook? Off the chain. Off the wall? Off-brand? Off-kilter? Offenbach? Work with me here.”

  Diego shot him a fond look. “You don’t need your ego stroked. Want breakfast?”