by Con Riley
Aiden shrugged, looking at the pile of paper and at his laptop on the counter.
The jury was still out.
Chapter Sixteen
“Don’t answer it,” Marco murmured as they lay on the living room couch later, their post-dinner coffee cooling on the floor beside them, abandoned while they made out. Aiden turned his head anyway, out of habit, straining at an awkward angle and tilting an ear in the direction of the hallway. The sound of his mother’s ringtone coming from the bathroom got louder.
Marco’s mouth was a distraction—nipping, sucking, licking—but even its shiver-inducing progress couldn’t stop Aiden’s automatic response to get up and answer.
With a subtle change of angle, Marco caged him with his body. “Let it go to voicemail.”
“It might be important.” Aiden shifted slightly underneath him.
Marco wrapped him up tighter. “You can talk with whoever that is later. Right now I think you are too busy.” His tongue—warm and wet and wicked—skimmed the shell of Aiden’s ear. For the next little while, his breathing and whispered instructions were all Aiden could hear clearly.
The next time Aiden’s phone rang, Marco had stripped him of his shirt and was kneeling on the floor between Aiden’s legs as Aiden sprawled on the couch. Aiden thought Marco looked amazing in the dim lamplight—all dark expressive eyes and smooth, sun-golden skin. One of Marco’s hands stroked over Aiden’s still-covered hard-on.
Aiden pushed himself up to an upright position. “I need to get that.” He moved to stand as the ringing persisted.
“No. What you need to do is relax and let me love you.” Marco’s hand tightened over Aiden’s dick. He leaned forward, pressing the heel of his palm slowly up its rigid length. Jesus, Aiden was so hard again—as if he hadn’t already come earlier that evening—but the phone’s ringing was distracting. He started to pull away.
Marco’s only answer to his gasped, “That call. I really need to take it,” was to demand more kisses. Before he could argue any further, Marco was lying on him, rolling his hips until Aiden’s answered, helpless to do anything but follow his movements. Their combined heavy breathing drowned out the last strains of his mom’s second call.
Things got hot and heavy. When Marco shoved down Aiden’s sweatpants, freeing his erection, his warm breath there made Aiden grasp his shoulders. Marco glanced up, his gaze holding Aiden’s steadily as his tongue flicked across Aiden’s frenulum. Aiden’s head fell back, hitting the arm of the couch with a hollow-sounding clunk.
“Marco—” Whatever he’d been about to say was lost in a long, low groan as a warm mouth sucked at his balls. Aiden’s eyelids fluttered down, certain that Marco was about to go ahead and blow him. Hands pushed at his thighs, encouraging them to spread wider. When Aiden felt licked-wet fingers pressing lower, he jerked involuntarily, almost knocking Marco off the couch.
His apologies were shrugged off, just like Marco shrugged his way out of his own sweatpants. A dark, damp patch marred the pale gray fabric, and when he leaned over Aiden—completely naked now—a clear teardrop of precome glistened, jeweling the tip of his cock revealed by his retracting foreskin. Aiden reached out to touch it.
Marco sounded gruff as he watched the clear strand stretching between Aiden’s fingers. “See how much I want you?” His next kisses were desperate. Aiden gripped his ass, holding him tight, pressing their cocks together, each movement of their hips not enough yet almost perfect.
The next time they both heard the persistent sound of Aiden’s phone, it played a different ringtone.
“Who is that?” Marco sounded exasperated and was off him in a moment, striding away in a fit of unusual bad temper when Aiden told him it was Evan. He followed Marco to the bathroom, listening to him mutter about cock-blocking as he searched pants pockets for Aiden’s phone. With his cheeks flushed the same deep pink as his dick, Aiden thought his pouting Italian looked incredible.
“Let me turn it off.” Aiden took the phone, intending to do so right away as he followed Marco from the bathroom to the bedroom that they’d started sharing. When it rang in his hand, he answered without thinking.
Evan sounded snippy. “For fuck’s sake, Aiden. What’s so important that you can’t take any of Mom’s calls? She just left a message saying she’s coming over here to talk to me instead if she can’t get hold of you in the next hour. She really can’t come here right now.”
“I was . . . busy.” Or he had been getting busy, anyhow. There was not much chance of that now that his head was full of his brother and his mother. His hard-on steadily wilted.
Marco lay sprawled across the bed, jacking himself as he muttered under his breath about Evan’s messed-up sense of timing.
“Well, get un-busy fast, Aiden. Call her soon, okay? Joel got home tonight. There’s no way Mom can come here.”
Aiden huffed. He didn’t like to think about Joel with his little brother at the best of times. His mom walking in on them simply couldn’t happen.
“I’ll call her.”
Evan’s relief was audible, but Joel’s faint “Get your ass over here, short stuff” right before Evan hung up left Aiden frowning.
Marco was indignant, getting up and standing on the bed so that he, for once, was taller. He held out the hand he wasn’t jacking off with. “You are not calling anyone now while we have unfinished business. Let me have your cell.”
Aiden shook his head. He’d avoided his mother’s phone calls since that awful moment over Evan’s tuition. Shit. That was something else he’d overlooked. He’d let this stuff about his birth dad take over his headspace. When he sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, Marco was still grumbling.
“It’s like they know I had plans for you tonight. Why do they always have to call you? Can’t they run their own lives without your constant input?” For someone who was family-centric, Marco’s temper seemed out of character. But like the rain they’d dodged all week long, his bad mood soon blew over. He dropped to his knees behind Aiden.
“Aiden . . . .” Marco sounded hesitant after Aiden mentioned that the earlier calls had been from his mother. “Is your mamma okay?” At Aiden’s shrug and deep sigh, Marco rubbed at his shoulders. “Ignore me when I behave like a brat. I just wanted to put you first and see you relax for a whole evening. It grates on me that you are always the first port of call for other adults’ problems. I know—” His sudden exhalation was warm against Aiden’s neck. “I understand that you need to stay in contact with your mamma. It’s the same way for me. Do you need to call her right now?”
Aiden really didn’t want to, but Evan’s breathless “Joel got home tonight” meant he had to head her off.
He had no choice, not after the last time he and Joel had spoken on the subject.
Aiden had told Joel that Evan coming out to her was a truly horrible idea, but Joel had disagreed. They’d almost had an argument, growling at each other over the desk down at the store. That had been surprising. Up until that point, Aiden had found Joel annoying—nosy, where he had no business expressing an opinion—rather than overtly confrontational. But the last time they’d spoken, Joel had almost yelled. Only Evan coming back into the stockroom had stopped things from escalating, and since then, he and Joel had kept their distance.
It didn’t matter what Joel thought about his reasoning. His opinion didn’t matter. He hadn’t lived through her mental breakdown. When it came to what Aiden’s mother could or couldn’t deal with, Joel didn’t know a thing.
With a heartfelt sigh, Marco gave up on getting off and listened as Aiden started to explain. Instead of arguing like Joel, he simply pulled back the bed covers, urging Aiden to climb in and settle against the headboard.
“So, help me out here,” Marco said as he climbed in too, his hand a warm weight on Aiden’s stomach. “You argued with Joel, and he told you that if your mamma asked a direct question, he wouldn’t tell her a lie. And this is a problem because . . . ?”
“Imagine if he opens
the door to the apartment looking like he’s just gotten out of bed, or if Evan lets her in with hickeys on his neck. She’s going to ask who Evan’s seeing, and Joel will go ahead and tell her. He’s just looking for an excuse now. All she has to do is ask, ‘Hey, Joel, what are you doing here?’ He’ll tell her just because I asked him not to.”
Marco frowned. “That doesn’t seem like something Joel would do. Theo speaks very fondly of him. He says that Joel is very . . . .” He searched for the right word.
“Annoying?”
“No. Stop, Aiden. This isn’t like you. Can you hear yourself?” He paused before adding, “Empathetic. Theo says Joel is very careful with other people’s feelings.”
Aiden’s snort was powerful. He looked down and shook his head.
“Are you saying that he’ll out Evan just to spite you? Tell me, does that sound like a rational act from someone who loves your brother?”
“Love.” Aiden snorted again.
“You think he doesn’t love Evan? Where have you been, Aiden? What those two have is something special. I’m surprised you can’t see it.”
“If Joel felt that way about Evan, he’d keep his mouth shut. I know exactly what he’s going to do. He just about told me to my face. If she asks anything at all, he won’t say he’s just visiting, or that they were hanging out for the evening. He’ll tell her they’re living together. If she says it’s good that Evan has a roommate, he’ll find a way to tell her they’ve been fucking pretty much all year.” He knew he sounded bitter. He hated the way Joel seemed determined to buck the status quo.
“Aiden, Joel would not do that to Evan. He’s so fond of your brother. Why would he want to upset his boyfriend’s mother?” He paused again before continuing. “Are you sure that Joel has only spoken to you for himself?” His hand cupped Aiden’s cheek, pulling at him until he gave in and turned to face him. “Could he really be speaking for your brother? Maybe being out and happy is what Evan wants, but he can’t find the words to tell you.”
“He can do that in private.”
Marco’s sigh was loud. “Does your mamma not deserve to know that her children are happy? Is that such a terrible thing for her to discover?” He reached up for a kiss, his lips soft and undemanding. “Ben made coming out very easy for me, at least within our family. I’ve never been in the closet.” He shrugged, his expression creased with sudden concern. “Pretending that we don’t lo—” He broke off, pausing for a moment. “You know that things do have to change soon, don’t you?”
Aiden’s nod was slow.
Joel wanting Evan to come out had seemed selfish and thoughtless.
Now being out himself seemed like an imperative. Marco was no one’s guilty secret.
Yeah. Things did have to change. He rubbed hard at his forehead.
Joel’s arguments suddenly seemed more valid.
“She will want to know that you have someone in your life who thinks you are important. She loves you both. It will be okay. I promise.”
Aiden couldn’t meet Marco’s eye.
Marco hadn’t seen his mom at her very worst. Her finding out about their sexuality—something her husband had dismissed as wrong and leading to guaranteed unhappiness? News like that would definitely set her back.
How the hell was he meant to make this all turn out right?
Marco squeezed his leg as he got out of bed. “Call her back now, while I go lock up.”
He waited until Marco pulled on a pair of boxer briefs and left the bedroom before hitting his mom’s number on speed dial. She answered on the first ring.
“Aiden, I worried you were sick.”
“I’m fine.” Aiden scrubbed at his face, stubble rough under his fingers. “I’m sorry I missed your calls.” He heard the bathroom door open and close down the hallway. “What do you need, Mom?”
He expected the usual list of chores around the house that he took care of for her, so when she said, “I want you to come with me to my next therapy session,” he had no idea how to answer.
Marco backed into the bedroom with an armful of their clothes, all tangled together. He dumped them on the bed, emptying pockets onto the nightstand before throwing laundry into the hamper.
“I . . . . Wait. What?”
Marco stopped what he was doing.
Aiden’s mom sounded patient as she explained. “My therapist suggested it. She thinks it would be a good idea if we talked together.”
“I’m not sure I have any time free, Mom. What exactly is it that she’s suggesting?” His dad had been a master at stalling conversations with his mom. Aiden tried to use similar tactics, asking for more details without agreeing to anything.
“She says I should consider stopping you from dealing with everything for me—that it isn’t helpful anymore—and that I should run my own life as it is today, rather than how it was when David was still with us.”
Shit.
Aiden scrubbed at his face again.
“Is that right?”
He didn’t fucking think so.
Paying for a fifty-minute hour just to hear that he could have done things better for his mom was the opposite of appealing. It sounded like a dumb idea. Dumb and intensely dangerous, on several different levels. If he hadn’t checked out the therapist for himself, he’d wonder about her certification. What she was suggesting sounded like the quickest way to upset his mom’s delicate mental balance.
Marco sat at the end of the bed, one hand on Aiden’s ankle.
“Yes. She’s been very helpful. I didn’t think I needed therapy when you made the first appointment.” Her voice faded a little, and when she spoke again, Aiden could hear its more familiar waver. “I didn’t want to go at all.”
“I know, Mom.” That had been so hard. When he’d driven her to the therapist’s office, she’d been so rigid with anxiety that he could barely get her out of her car. She’d questioned him the whole way from home: Why couldn’t she continue with her medication? Therapy was for people who were broken. Wasn’t she doing better? She’d sounded so upset.
Repeating Joel’s reasoning to her outside the therapist’s office and grasping that his “Let other people help her” message had almost certainly been right hadn’t made her agitation any easier to deal with. Lately, the more he thought about it, Joel’s perspectives had all turned out to be right. Aiden’s knee-jerk reaction to anything that might affect his family was instant denial. He closed his eyes as he replayed his earlier staying-closeted outburst. Maybe disliking Joel was easier than accepting that he had no idea what he was doing.
Over the phone, his mom added, “But therapy turned out to be such a good idea.”
Lately his mom had started to engage in the world outside their family home. Instead of concentrating on her solitary crafts and reading, saying that she preferred to be alone, she’d started meeting other people. She’d even rejoined their old church community, finding purposeful things to get involved with for the first time in years.
“So,” she continued, “She says there would be a real benefit if we all talked together.”
“Can’t we do that at your place? We talk all the time, Mom. There’s no need to pay a stranger to listen to us chat.” Aiden could hear his bad mood in his tone—Jesus, he sounded snappy. He looked away from Marco’s raised eyebrows, lowering his voice. “And what do you mean, ‘all talk together’?”
“I’m not sure we do talk all the time, Aiden. It seems like I talk while you say nothing, but if you think we shouldn’t—”
“No, I’m not saying we shouldn’t have some kind of family meeting, if that’s what you really want.” They’d used to do that with Dad. He’d sit at the head of the table and pass judgment on their ideas for vacation destinations, listening carefully to Aiden’s bid for white-water rafting, then to Evan’s proposal for English castles, before casting the deciding vote. They’d nearly always ended up in Vegas. “If there’s something you want to talk about, Mom, why don’t you tell me now?”
M
arco’s grip on his ankle tightened. That, and his deepening frown, made Aiden verbally stumble. He paused. “Hold on, Mom.”
The “What?” he aimed in Marco’s direction was sharp, but, dammit all to hell, sitting in a therapy session with his mom and Evan sounded like a nightmare.
Marco tilted his head to one side, saying exactly nothing.
Aiden checked his phone was muted, then started again. “I’m sorry.”
Marco nodded slowly—a silent As you should be—then said, “Your mother wants to see you?” At Aiden’s nod, he added, “Is this about your brother’s student loans?”
“I’m not sure. I guess it might be.” He stared at the phone in his lap. He’d ignored her voicemail messages asking for the key to the file cabinet. Why she needed to look in there, when he took care of everything, was beyond him. “I don’t know why she needs to pry. There’s no good reason for her to worry herself about money. And I don’t know why she thinks I need to see her therapist.”
The bed shifted as Marco straddled his lap. “Tell her that you will be there.” He picked up Aiden’s phone and placed it in Aiden’s hand. “Tell her that it will be your pleasure.” He squinted at Aiden’s dismissive huff, then caught his face between hands that were rock steady. “Talking is what you need to do more than most things. Perhaps meeting with your family now would be a very good thing. It will make it easier when you are ready to tell her about us. And about your father.”
Aiden blinked, feeling the rasp of Marco’s thumbs across his cheeks.
“My father?”
For one long, awful moment he didn’t know what Marco meant. Did he really think a therapy session would be a good time or place to say, “Hey, by the way, Mom, it wasn’t work worries that killed Dad. He shot himself rather than own up to his gambling addiction, and he left us with nothing.” Aiden didn’t think so. He was pretty sure that if he knew the truth, Marco wouldn’t either.
Nobody—his mom, and Evan especially—needed to know that their life didn’t rank higher than a stack of poker chips.
