Naughty Wishes Part III

by Joey W. Hill

  The thought twisted his lips, making Chris want to chuckle in a way that wasn't humorous. It was more like tearing paper away and finding an empty box instead of the gift he'd always wanted.

  "Chris." Geoff had withdrawn, put his clothes back together. Now he slipped his hands under Chris's shirt, fingers threading through the coarse hair. "Hey, man, talk to me. Where did you go? Did I hurt you?"

  In ways he couldn't describe. Or maybe he'd hurt himself and Geoff had just opened the door. But Chris shook his head and reached down awkwardly to get his jeans back up. Geoff was so close behind him his ass bumped him, and Geoff closed his hands on his hips to steady him.

  "I'm good." Chris sidled away and managed to hop clear of the bench to finish the job, zip and button his jeans. "I've got it."

  "Okay." Geoff's voice was neutral. Chris could feel him watching him closely.

  "Uh, I'm going to go in and grab a beer. You want one?"

  "Yeah. Sure."

  Escaping into the house, Chris took a deep breath once he was in the kitchen. He held the refrigerator door open, the cool air wafting over him, and stared mindlessly at what was there. The door to the garage opened, closed, Geoff's footsteps stopping at the kitchen door.

  "I get that you're the still-waters-run-deep kind of guy," Geoff said slowly. "Most things about you I can figure out. But you have me stumped here, Chris. You're going to have to tell me, because you're making me feel like a dick, and I can't fix it if you don't tell me where I'm going wrong."

  "You're not doing anything wrong."

  "Oh. So you jerking up your pants and walking away from me with all this shit vibrating off you, as if I treated you like a whore, meant I was stellar?"

  Geoff's tone was the jagged edge of a rusty blade. Chris couldn't turn around, but when Geoff laid a hand on his arm, Chris yanked away. "Don't fucking touch me again unless I say it's okay first."

  He didn't know where the venom came from, the rage, but it was definitely there, filling his chest and making it hard to breathe. He slammed the fridge door hard enough to rock the kitchen walls, and then he left the house, going out into the backyard.

  He wasn't sure of his destination until he arrived in front of the fairy garden. He stared at it. The raccoons had visited in the night, knocking tiny figurines askew and leaving muddy footprints tracked all over everything. Some of the plants had been uprooted.

  Normally he would have laughed. The creatures were adept at causing mayhem, and he'd anticipated a certain level of mischief from them. But right now, he couldn't find that lightheartedness. He dropped to his knees in front of the berm and clenched his fists, suppressing the incomprehensible desire to tear all of it apart, before what was inside him tore him apart first.

  He didn't. He stayed there for a while, just breathing, not thinking. Eventually, he started to move, albeit stiffly. He dug out the fairies that had been squashed in the raccoon tracks or tumbled into the channel. He turned the water on so he could wash them off with gentle fingers. Harry was singing in the aviary, calling Hermione to him. Ron squawked. Circumstances had brought the three birds together, two of them permanently handicapped by their injuries and one who'd healed but who refused to leave the other two. Their survival stories had bound them to one another. Just like their individual paths had brought him, Geoff and Sam together. Chris rubbed a thumb over a fairy's delicate face. It was the one that reminded him of Sam.

  "I'm not like you, you know," he said. "I feel things in straight lines. I live each day as it is. I'm not a big thinker."

  "Yeah, I know. You feel things way deeper than most people do."

  Chris turned. Geoff sat on the nearby bench. Chris had placed it there yesterday so when Sam got back, she could sit on it and look at her fairy garden while reading. "The raccoons messed it up."

  "You'll put it back together."

  Geoff looked older, serious. There was a haze over his eyes, a dimness to their light that Chris didn't like. "Maybe it's too fucked up."

  Geoff made a poor attempt at a smile. "You've told me nothing is ever too fucked up to fix. Unless . . ."

  "Unless God knows it works better broken."

  "Yeah. That's what you always say."

  Chris set the fairy down. There was something in Geoff's voice that made him want to draw closer, though he stayed still. Geoff looked down at his hands, spread them out.

  "You know, I . . . ah . . . I never thought too much about what I am. Just always felt this way, knew I was built this way. It didn't worry me what other people thought because, you know, you've been my best friend. You went with me to those play parties or clubs, but we never really talked about how you felt about any of it, because it didn't feel like the right time. But you were there on the sidelines; you knew what I was. So what I am never felt bad or twisted. Until a few moments ago."

  Chris's eyes sharpened, but Geoff was still staring at his hands. "In the kitchen, how you pulled away, it seemed like you found me repulsive. I've never wished to be different, never thought I was wired that way. But if you can't handle this part of me . . . I don't mean handle it--you don't have to be a part of that to be my best friend, but what I mean is, if this part of me is something that turns your stomach . . ."

  Chris blinked at the break in his voice. The last time Geoff had been moved to tears had been when his mother rejected him. He'd had that same flat tone, the rug pulled out from under his world while he tried to act like it hadn't been, to prove he was strong enough to deal with it. He had been, but without understanding and support, that strength might have warped into something so different.

  Just like that, the anger and isolation that had gripped Chris so hard, putting him in a vacuum, gave way to much stronger feelings. They reconnected him. This was Geoff. The person who knew him better than anyone. Chris had never thought anyone would get him as Geoff did, until he'd met Sam.

  Geoff lifted his head, and his expression was wooden. Braced. "Is that what it is, Chris? Is this something you can't handle about me? About yourself?"

  "No, shit. Stop." Chris moved to the bench and sat down next to Geoff, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. "I got lost in my head, Geoff. When you took over, it's like I became an object, or because I don't totally get what this is, and why I react the way I do, the connection was lost. I felt by myself."

  The hurt in Geoff's face was replaced by a cautious understanding, followed by chagrin. "I'd never want you to feel that way, Chris. I hope you know that." His lip curled, a wry, sad little smile, and he nudged him. "I love you, man."

  Chris chuckled at that. Things weren't right, but there was less constriction around his chest, less of a cold knot in his stomach. "'Yeah, you know you always be getting emotional after gunfights,'" he said, imitating Will Smith's Bad Boys line.

  Geoff's lips curved, more genuine. He took a breath. "You're not much of a talker, Chris, and that's cool, but I hope you know you can talk to me about any of this, even if what you say doesn't feel like it makes sense. You don't have to make sense to me. It's the same for Sam. In a weird-ass way, that's what a lot of it's about. Having feelings that you can't express with words. So when you're ready, you can just throw what's on your mind out there, and I won't say anything until or unless you want me to."

  It was tempting to take that when you're ready as an excuse to leave it alone right now, but with emotions raw between them, Chris knew it needed to be now. And he was ready, as long as Geoff wasn't needing it to make sense. That was kind of a relief.

  "Okay." He laid his hand on Geoff's leg, closed his fingers over the taut column, feeling the shift of muscle as Geoff reacted to the touch. Chris slid his thumb in a windshield-wiper motion over it. The folding of the jeans around Geoff's groin, outlining what was there, was an intriguing terrain that Chris studied absently, aware of Geoff watching him, motionless as a hawk.

  "I always thought I trusted you more than anyone, that I didn't hold anything back from you. But I guess I realized . . . hell, you know it connects to my
dad leaving Mom and me. In some weird, shitty way I realized focusing so much on caring for you, it also sort of became a shield. I didn't really know how to let you take care of me, because that would let you all the way in. Shit, I am so screwing this up . . ."

  "No," Geoff said. "You're not. Keep going."

  Chris pressed his lips together and met his eyes. "That belt thing, you broke something open, man. The whole universe turned on its axis in less than a week. The stuff that's there, that you do or want to do, it's stuff that a part of me wants. It's been in this closed room I knew about but kind of bypassed, if that makes sense. So now the rest of me is trying to catch up." He sighed, removing his hand. "Maybe because you have always gotten things about me so I didn't have to explain them, I was hoping you could explain to me what the hell is happening. Because honest to God, man, I'm not sure."

  As he stared moodily at the ground, Geoff looped his arm over Chris's shoulders, his elbow pressing between Chris's shoulder blades as he lifted his hand to tousle Chris's hair. The affectionate gesture became a light grip on Chris's nape that reminded him of the heated sex they'd just had but also told him he had Geoff's total attention, his support.

  "Is this okay?" Geoff asked in a low voice. At Chris's look, he lifted a shoulder. "You said you wanted me to ask."

  Chris closed his eyes. "Yeah, it's okay. And you don't always have to ask."

  It was when he thought about things too hard he would think himself into silence, the layers too complicated to parse and fit into sentences that other people would understand. But Geoff had said it didn't have to make sense. He tried not to think when he opened his mouth this time.

  "I didn't think about it directly until we got to this point, with Sam. When I watched the two of you together, all this need and desire came up so hard and strong in my chest, for both of you, and I don't know where to go with it, what to do with it. I sure as hell don't know what to do about how you are. Because I'm not like her. I know I keep saying that like you have a hearing problem, but do you know it?"

  "Did it feel like I was treating you like her just now? At the workbench?"

  "Yeah, somewhat. But no. I don't know. I can't tell what's you, and what's me being messed up about it. I want to hit you and I want you inside me, like you just were." Chris blew out a breath. "Now I'm having trouble saying it. I wanted you to fuck me, but I also wanted to take your head off your shoulders."

  "If you let me fuck you, then hit me, it will go better for me, because you won't hit as hard."

  Chris snorted but Geoff touched his leg. "Look at me, Chris. I want to say something, to make sure you really hear this, so you know you don't have to keep saying it. Though if you need to keep saying it to help you, I have no problem with that. Let me know when you're ready to hear it."

  He went quiet and waited on Chris. Chris watched Ron fly to the top of the aviary and swoop down, ruffling Hermione's feathers as he went by. It made Harry hop up and down on his perch and fuss. When at last Chris nodded, he didn't have to look at Geoff to know he was watching Chris, waiting for that cue.

  "You're a mix of things, Chris, a bloody unpredictable mix. There are parts of you that, yeah, want to follow my lead, follow orders. But not necessarily to submit. I get the difference. I have room in me to figure out how to handle both of those things if you do. You get that? You don't have to ride any ride that doesn't interest you. But I push because that's part of my makeup, especially when I sense something in you that responds to it. Right?"

  Chris nodded again. He couldn't deny it. Geoff's gaze sparked with that look that made Chris aroused and uncomfortable at once, but then Geoff carefully reined it back. "In that world, there's something called a safe word. Maybe what we need is something like that, so if something doesn't feel right to you, you just say that, and it stops."

  "But the problem is, it feels right but wrong. Like too much candy. Or maybe like something else needs to happen first for the rest to work."

  "What do you think that is?"

  Chris knew, but he wasn't sure he could say it out loud. They'd finally hit on the root of the problem. He could say he wanted to think about it awhile longer, but it wasn't going to get easier. Plus, Geoff had opened his heart to him, made himself vulnerable, and Chris wouldn't leave him out there alone. So he said it.

  "I've never given my heart to anyone," he said. "Not really. I mean, I think you're the first person beyond my mom that I loved. Really loved, and not in the roses-and-candy way. Kind of like when we watched The Mighty . . . that kind of thing, between Max and Kevin." Thank God they'd watched a million movies together, so they could patch in some emotional context without him having to wrangle it out. "Then there's Sam, showing up in the mix, and I realize whatever that is, I have it for her, too. Bam, two people, a man and a woman, the only people I've loved in my life. My first loves, either gender."

  Geoff studied him. "And that bugs you."

  Chris returned his gaze to the fairy mound, to the slim fairy sitting next to the squirrel, her tiny feet in the swirling water. "You don't get to control love. And nobody's first love is their last love, is it? It's a way to grow up, evolve. I don't know anyone who stays with their very first love." His fists clenched at the thought. Geoff, who could sometimes be a dick and way too smart, was smart enough to stay silent as the feelings kept coming, kept leaving Chris's lips.

  "I don't want to evolve past the two of you, and if you evolve past me, I just . . . I'm not sure how I'd survive. I don't want you all to be my first love, crush, whatever. I want you to be it, and I can't handle it otherwise, because I feel so much for both of you."

  "Ah, Chris. I should have known. When something bothers you, it's the kind of thing that tears the heart out." Geoff gripped his hand, and there they were, holding hands like a couple of girls, but it felt right. "No, there are no guarantees. But Sam and I have the same hopes for forever that you do. If we don't try, we'll never know."

  There it was, out and declared, and Geoff wasn't backing away from it. No more double talk or covering stuff up with casual words that meant nothing. Chris's hand constricted on Geoff's, and the fierceness of his friend's expression said he knew that he'd just said something that couldn't, wouldn't be taken back.

  When he'd thought about his dad leaving, Chris had always focused on the anger, the betrayal, his resolve to do better, be a better man. He'd known he'd built some emotional walls. But it wasn't until these past twenty-four hours, putting it out there for the man who mattered most, that he'd realized how much he'd always longed to feel safe, emotionally safe, with another human being. His dad had taken that ability away from him. But he had two people willing to give that back to him, if he could be brave enough. If he could leave those walls behind when he was with them.

  "Spill the rest of it out," Geoff said softly. "Tell me."

  So Chris opened himself even further. "Last night, after you left, I did have a fantasy. This one with pictures, full color, sound, the whole bit. I thought about coming to you while you were asleep, and sliding into the bed behind you." He swallowed, shifting his gaze to Geoff's feet, aligned with his. "Being with you, wrapping around you, holding you, being inside you, like you talked about when you said that . . . about me being a group of one. About trusting only one person to do that. Me."

  Now he lifted his eyes once more, met Geoff's. "Just now, you asked me what I need to have happen before the rest can work. I think if you let me inside you, all the way, you can have anything you want from me."

  *

  The tide of Chris's emotions swamped Geoff, filling him beyond speech or even movement. As Chris had spoken, he realized he'd tightened his grip on his friend's hand to hold on. On the surface, Chris's words might sound like a condition, an ultimatum. Whether or not he could get into the sub stuff, he'd give Geoff that if he opened himself up fully. Yet Chris didn't set conditions. He was telling Geoff what needed to happen for them to reach the place that they both wanted to go, not just for sex but for things a who
le lot deeper than that.

  The Dom/sub stuff might all be new territory to Chris, but Geoff gave him full marks. Geoff had stumbled in his own insecurities, not sure if he'd been right about Chris when Chris pulled away so abruptly. But Chris had steadied him, given him this window to understand that he actually did have the capacity and, what's more, the desire, to embrace a surrender to Geoff. Yes, it would be on his own terms, but that made it as much of a priceless treasure as Sam's submission was, because each was sculpted by the nature of the person offering the gift.

  "Okay," he said. Releasing Chris's hand, he ran a proprietary touch over Chris's chest, down to his upper abdomen, earning an opaque look that meant either he was getting the big guy worked up or Geoff was about to have his head knocked off his shoulders. "Why don't we take a step back? All right?"

  "Yeah." Chris closed his hand around Geoff's again, holding it in place against his chest. "With Sam, she's different. With you and me . . . it's too easy to become rabbits fucking every ten minutes, and I don't like how that feels. You matter too much. You and Sam."

  Geoff curled his fingers around Chris's hand, turning it into that brotherhood knot again, no teasing this time, their combined fists pressed against Chris's heart. "Okay. So we move slower. Show some control. Put our dicks on a leash."

  Chris's lips quirked. "I'm not into that kind of shit, either, by the way. In case you ever get the notion to check out that corner of Naughty Bits, you'd better be considering adopting a dog with a throat that's coincidentally the size of my dick."

  "Not sure they make them that small. Maybe gerbil leashes at PetSmart."

  Chris punched him in the abdomen, fortunately with strength held back. But he kept hold of Geoff's hand. Glancing down at it, he looked at the ground, his mouth sliding back into a somber line. "You going to call me a girl for wanting to take things slow?"