by Avery Ford
“Yes,” Caleb replied instantly. He’d have to be insane to say anything else. From the first time they’d met, Caleb had wanted Henry — it was his disfigurement that kept him from making a move. “Want it.”
“Wanna give it to you,” Henry whispered. His breath was a tease against Caleb’s sensitive skin. “Gonna give it to you. You make me so hot, Caleb.”
“You— ohh!” Words lost their meaning. Henry’s lips wrapped around the head of his cock, then slipped down further until Caleb was in his hot, willing mouth.
Arousal pulsed low in his balls, and Caleb huffed out a breath and collapsed back against the bed. As much as he wanted to keep looking, he was too swept up in the passion to hold himself upright. Henry made him weak in ways he’d never been weak before. No other lover compared. What passed between them was nothing short of magical, and Caleb wasn’t sure if he’d ever feel so good again.
Henry hummed against his cock out of nowhere, and instead of vibrating, the sound grated on Caleb’s ears. He groaned and pushed at Henry’s head, and Henry popped off his cock and sat up, still humming.
“Stop,” Caleb said. The world around them started to vibrate gently, like the whole room was vibrating because of Henry’s humming. “I want you. Why do you have to sing at a time like this?”
But Henry wouldn’t stop singing, and as the moment slipped into bizarre territory, Caleb jolted awake with a start.
It had all been a dream.
Grunting his displeasure, Caleb rolled onto his back and tried to focus. The pressure garments he lived in day in and day out were squeezing a little too tight for comfort, and his skin prickled and sent sensations through him randomly. Caleb heard the shower start to run, and soon Henry’s humming turned into full song.
Was it morning or night? Caleb had no idea. He knew that he was exhausted, but it felt like he’d been asleep for a while despite it. Henry usually showered at night, but Caleb couldn’t be sure.
With difficulty, he turned his head to look at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was almost seven in the morning. What was Henry doing up? Did he have to work?
Caleb wished Henry would have showered last night so he could have continued his dream. His cock throbbed, demanding his attention. The longer he spent with Henry, the stronger the pull he felt toward him. If Caleb didn’t take care of his desires soon, he’d crack under the pressure.
I need Henry out of my head.
Hand shaking, Caleb reached beneath the covers and tried to undo the button of his pajama pants. His burned hand was unresponsive and sluggish, and no matter how he tried, Caleb couldn’t get it to cooperate. He fumbled with the button, pushing and pulling, to no avail.
Caleb was broken.
He clawed at his face with his left hand and tried to suppress the feeling of uselessness that spread through him. All Caleb wanted was release, but even that wasn’t straightforward. His right hand wasn’t even fucking capable.
Tucked beneath the blankets of his bed, listening to Henry sing in the shower, Caleb took care of his need with his left hand. His only consolation was touching himself with his left hand still felt foreign, alien. It made it easier to imagine that it was Henry’s hand wrapped around him, lingering at the base as he took Caleb’s cock into his mouth.
Caleb came to the image of Henry’s sweet eyes looking up at him as he sucked Caleb dry.
Caleb heard Henry stop singing, and shortly after, the water stopped running. For a while he laid in bed, listening to Henry go about his business upstairs before heading down to start his day. Now that Caleb had worked out his arousal, there was nothing left to keep him from his disappointment. His body had failed him.
Downstairs, pots and pans clanged together. It sounded like Henry was making breakfast. Caleb closed his eyes and tried to wipe every inappropriate trace of Henry from his mind, but Henry refused to be evicted. Eventually, he gave it up as a lost cause and climbed out of bed to get ready for the day.
Caleb showered and dressed, then headed downstairs to find that Henry had made breakfast for the both of them.
“Go sit down at the dining room table,” Henry instructed as Caleb cleared the last stair. “I’m plating breakfast. You’re just in time.”
The chipper sound of Henry’s voice reminded Caleb of what they’d shared in his dream, and he felt irritation prickle down the back of his neck. He wanted Henry — that much was clear to him now — but he knew he couldn’t have him.
Life from here on out would be lonely.
Caleb headed into the dining room and sat without responding. Soon enough, Henry entered the room with a plate of food in either hand and set one down at his place. The plate was filled with scrambled eggs paired with two slices of toast.
“Hope you’re hungry,” Henry said brightly. He set the second plate down, then slid it across the table in Caleb’s direction. Henry’s aim wasn’t perfect, and he’d used a little too much force. The plate came faster than Caleb anticipated.
With one eye covered by a patch, Caleb’s depth of perception was shot and his reflexes suffered in consequence. The plate slid off the end of the table as Caleb jerked his hand up to try to catch it — his right hand. His injured fingers fanned as best they could, but he’d lost a lot of mobility since the accident. The plate hit his hand, but his wizened grip couldn’t steady it.
Caleb fumbled. The plate tilted and threatened to topple over his hand. Heart racing like he was in the line of duty, he pushed it back toward the table.
Miraculously, it didn’t fall. Instead, it clattered onto the table with finality. Nothing else in the room made a sound. The wobbling noise of porcelain against wood filled the room.
Henry stood frozen, his eyes wide and his mouth half open in alarm. Caleb looked up from his plate to glare at him, temper consuming him whole like it was an inferno ripping across dry plains. His hands trembled not from arousal or disappointment, but from anger.
“Do you even see me?” Caleb hissed, establishing hard eye contact with Henry. Henry looked too afraid to move. “Do you see me, Henry? Do you? Half of my fucking body is melted off and you think you can go around pretending things are normal?”
Henry shrank back, arms locked to his sides and gaze lowered to the floor. Caleb knew that the words he said were hurting him, but he couldn’t stop his mouth.
“I can barely see. I can’t climb a flight of stairs without being winded. I itch and I ache and my nerves have been rerouted so I don’t even know where I’m hurting anymore. And what do you do? You throw a fucking plate of food at the cripple to watch him fumble so you can laugh? So you can feel better about how able your body is? Is that it?”
Henry didn’t deserve to be yelled at. Caleb knew that Henry hadn’t intended to humiliate him, but all of his suppressed emotions were bubbling up to the surface, and after the struggle he’d faced undoing the button of his own fly, he couldn’t take it anymore. He was sick of being useless. He was sick of dodging people’s gazes and hearing rumors fly behind his back.
Henry was the conduit through which is temper was channeled, and Caleb couldn’t help that Henry got burned in the process. It hurt his heart and twisted in his stomach even as he spoke, and seeing Henry deflate with each word and turn in on himself only made Caleb hurt more, but he couldn’t stop.
“Do you want to see it?” Caleb asked. “Everyone talks and talks and talks about how I’m damaged, and how hideous I am, and speculates about everything that’s hiding beneath my clothes, do you want to see it?”
“No,” Henry whispered. He would not lift his head to look at Caleb. “No, thank you.”
Every flame that burned inside of Caleb extinguished at once. The timid nature of his statement tore Caleb out of his rage and plunged him beneath the surface of reality. Henry was frightened. He’d caused Henry to be frightened. The only man who’d treated Caleb like he was still a capable human being was suffering because Caleb had lost his temper.
What have I done?
Caleb sw
allowed and looked down at his plate of scrambled eggs, not trusting himself to open his mouth even to say sorry.
You’re as much of a monster on the inside as you are on the outside.
Henry
“Do you even think before you speak, Henry? Do you consider the words that come out of your mouth before you make statements? Because I know what you’ve been saying to your friends about me. People tell me what you’re up to, Henry. God. This makes me think that you don’t think at all.”
Henry stared at his toes, lost in his memories as Caleb exploded. It wasn’t the first time he’d faced anger like this, and he knew how to deal with it. Living with Pritchard had destroyed him on many levels, but it had taught him how to deflate heated situations.
Caleb had a right to be angry. Henry hadn’t considered his feelings. Now that he’d made a mistake, he needed to fix it. From past experience, Henry knew the best way forward was to be agreeable and repentant. Any time Pritchard had been so angry, he’d responded best to soft, kind words and gentle touches. Henry didn’t want Caleb to be angry at him, and he truly was sorry for what he’d done.
Slowly, Henry approached where Caleb sat. He didn’t lift his gaze from his feet, unwilling to make eye contact.
“I’m sorry,” Henry said softly. “I really am, Caleb. I didn’t mean to do that. It was my fault.”
Caleb said nothing, and Henry didn’t dare look up to check his body language. The few times he’d met Pritchard’s eye, it had ended poorly. Bruises lasted longer than a little anger did.
“I won’t do it again. I told you, I’m so scatterbrained, and sometimes I don’t think things through before I do them. I’m really, really sorry.”
He stood by Caleb’s side now, and Henry stared at Caleb’s thigh. The rich color of his denim and the tight weave of the fabric was his focus. Carefully, always looking for signs of hostility, Henry traced his gaze upward over Caleb’s thigh and across his tight chest. The scarring didn’t take away from his body — he was built powerfully, and Henry could tell that before the accident, Caleb had been fit and handsome. He still was, despite his scars.
Henry lowered himself at the waist, acting on impulse. Anger and sex were hardwired into his brain as equivalent thanks to the time he’d spent with Pritchard, and he knew that he might be able to calm Caleb down if he showed how willing he was to submit to him. Careful never to look Caleb in the eye, Henry kissed him softly on the lips.
It was meant to be a simple kiss, just something to keep Caleb’s temper in check, but Henry was surprised to find he enjoyed it. The right corner of Caleb’s lips were burned and had a strange texture, but the kiss itself was sweet and sincere. The fear in Henry’s heart shattered, giving way to joy. Kissing Caleb was supposed to be his way out of a bad situation, but it was quickly turning into more than that.
Caleb kissed him back like Henry meant something, and Henry couldn’t get enough. Knees trembling, arousal steadily taking hold, Henry lost himself in the kiss and let Caleb take them further, Caleb’s left hand reaching out to steady Henry’s hip as he moved against Henry’s mouth. Their kiss never grew heated, but it didn’t break as soon as Henry thought it would.
Breathless and dizzy, Henry pulled out of the kiss and took a small step back. Caleb’s posture had changed completely — he looked relaxed and vulnerable, like Henry had exposed a part of him he didn’t want shown.
“It won’t happen again,” Henry whispered. He took another small step back. “I’ll be conscientious of what you can and can’t do, and I won’t make you do anything uncomfortable. I promise.”
The way Caleb’s lips felt tingled on Henry’s skin, and he longed to kiss him again. Heart beating fast, he turned and left the dining room, taking his plate with him on his way out. Until Caleb cooled down and things were better between them, it was better that he eat in his room.
Henry didn’t even know if Caleb was gay.
With how good their kiss was, Henry hoped that Caleb was. It was selfish of him, but he wanted to feel Caleb like that again. Somewhere behind Caleb’s walls was the man who was thoughtful enough to send his parents extra money to see them through the month. The kind of man who was friends with Kota Owens, and Henry already knew that Kota was a kind man – he’d stepped in to help Henry, after all.
Henry hoped it was that man behind the scars that his kiss had reached.
After the recent midnight shift Henry had worked, there wasn’t much left to clean at Rustic Treasures. Once a month, Norman scheduled an employee to stay late in order to deep clean the shop front. The majority of the antiques they received were already dusty or otherwise dirty in some way, and constant cleaning was a necessity. Henry didn’t mind staying late, and he certainly didn’t mind dusting, but today his thoughts were scattered and he knew he wasn’t working at his usual level.
He passed a rag over a shelf that ran across the back wall of the store, lifting items as he went. An antique clock here, an old radio there, a serving set, a collection of glassware… There was no rhyme or reason to the store’s organization, but it had a certain charm that way. Norman insisted that he placed their acquisitions where they ‘felt’ like they belonged, trusting his gut to do the right thing. The short amount of time Henry had been working for him, he’d come to view it as a practical strategy. A client who walked in off the street would need to browse every row of antiques to get a feel for their selection, and it opened up the possibility of impulse purchases.
Rustic Treasures had been open since before Henry was born, so he assumed it was a strategy that worked.
Or maybe this place is helped along by just a little bit of magic, he thought to himself.
That certainly wouldn’t surprise him.
One of the old floorboards groaned beneath new weight, and Henry looked over his shoulder to find Norman approaching. The man was wrinkled and gray, but passion for life sparkled in his eyes, and he was as spry as someone half his age. Henry smiled at him as he approached and stopped wiping down the shelf. The rag he used dangled in his hand.
“Henry,” Norman said warmly. Laughter twitched the corners of his lips. “How many times have you cleaned that same shelf today?”
“Um…” Henry blinked. He looked back at the shelf, then at Norman, struggling to find words. “Well, I um, I think only once?”
“Three times.” Norman laughed. “Something’s got you distracted. You’re not yourself today.”
Was it noticeable? Henry rang the cloth in his hands, feeling fidgety. He’d hoped that he’d be able to keep himself occupied enough at work to forget what had happened over breakfast, but business was slow.
“I’m not angry,” Norman said. He dropped a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “I just wanted to come over and see if I could help you with your struggles any. You know, I can tell what’s the matter by the look on your face.”
Henry’s shoulders stiffened, and he stood up straight and looked Norman in the eye, startled. “You can?”
“When you get to be my age, not much slips past you.” Norman patted him twice on the shoulder, then took his hand away. “I saw the same look on my son’s face a good ten years ago, you know. It was right after he met the girl he married.”
Henry’s cheeks burned. It wasn’t like he loved Caleb. The kiss had been nice, but he couldn’t dismiss the fact that Caleb had lost his temper. Henry had left Pritchard to better his life, not to tie himself to a man who behaved just as terribly.
“Oh, um, well… I promise to work harder. I know I’m kind of weird today, but it’s not going to be a regular occurrence. I value the work I do.”
“No need to apologize.” Norman waved him off. “You can apologize when you need to take time off for the wedding and honeymoon… and you’ll find my irritation quickly waived with a wedding invitation.”
“Right.” Henry nodded, unsure what else to do. Norman was wrong — it wasn’t love. All afternoon he’d been thinking about how good it felt to kiss Caleb, but fantasizing was different tha
n forming a real relationship. Henry had fantasized plenty of times about packing up his possessions and heading out to start fresh on the West Coast, but he didn’t actually intend to follow through on it.
“Take a little time to yourself to get your head on straight,” Norman said seriously. He crossed his arms loosely over his chest and gave Henry one last quick look. “And if you’re able, maybe do it near the shelves over there.” He gestured toward the front of the shop and laughed.
“Okay. Yeah, of course. I’ll get right to it.” Henry sidestepped around Norman and headed for other shelves, face burning.
It wasn’t like he was attracted to Caleb. The kiss had been great, but that was where the attraction ended.
There was no way at all that he was in love. No way.
After what happened with Pritchard, Henry refused to put himself in harm’s way again.
Caleb
Caleb sank onto the couch and flipped through the channels absentmindedly. His thoughts were elsewhere. Since his outburst over breakfast, he hadn’t been able to shake his feeling of guilt. It clenched in his stomach and choked his throat, as uncomfortable as it was troubling.
Before the accident, Caleb had liked who he was as a person. Now, he wasn’t so sure. The anger had come out of nowhere, exploding through him like water gushing from a broken dam. The pressure of being visibly disfigured and enduring the rumors and speculations of the townsfolk he’d grown up around hurt deeply. He realized that coming back to Blue Mountain had been a bad idea.
Henry didn’t deserve to be yelled at. He was only trying to be nice.
Caleb’s hand hesitated on the remote as he lost himself to memories. The touch of Henry’s lips roused him and brought him straight back into dream territory. Up close, Caleb had seen golden flecks in Henry’s eyes he hadn’t realized were there and witnessed the pale, almost invisible spattering of freckles over the bridge of his nose. The scent from his skin was intoxicating. When they’d kissed, Caleb’s soul had woken up for the first time since the accident.
