Lonely Hearts

by Heidi Cullinan

  Baz didn’t dignify the comment with an answer.

  He got groggy after that, sludged out on pain meds and weed. Time went fuzzy, expanding and contracting. He sat up at one point, reached for water, stumbled to the bathroom, but he went to bed after. A warm body slipped in beside him, and in his mind he got a lubed finger up Elijah’s ass and fingered him good before fucking him into the mattress, but in reality he drooled on the pillow beside Elijah’s hair.

  Just after midnight he woke in a full sweat, headache gone, stomach growling like crazy. He stumbled into pajama pants as quietly as he could and considered climbing out the window to sit on the fire escape. He thought better of it and padded down the stairs, blinking against contacts several hours overdue to be taken out. He winced at the bright light in the kitchen and groped to shift the lights before trying to open them. An unfamiliar young man stood at the counter assembling a sandwich, and he smiled and waved as he saw Baz. “Oh, hey. Sorry about the lights. Didn’t know you were up.”

  Brian, Baz’s groggy brain helpfully supplied. Baz saluted and sank into a chair. “You get moved in okay?”

  “Yeah. I left Sid’s stuff in there even though Min said I could move it. I never planned to have a single, so it’s not like I have enough stuff to fill the place.” He gestured to the sandwich mountain. “Hungry?”

  “Fucking starving,” Baz admitted.

  Brian slid a heap onto a plate and brought it over. “I made enough for two out of habit. My dad stays up late programming same as me, and it’s kind of our thing, midnight sandwiches. He warns me that’s how he got his spare tire, but it’s not as if I’m going to find a girl who wants this deep of geek anyway.” He pulled a couple KZ sodas out of the fridge and brought them over by their necks as he settled in with his own plate. “Heard you had a headache. Sleep help any?”

  Baz shrugged as he scooped up the sandwich. “Hard to say how much of it is needing food at this point.”

  “Well, hopefully this finishes your misery off.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, but Brian was perky and Baz suspected hyped up on caffeine. His gaze blipped around the room, tracking the red lights. “I love the setup. I’ll admit I peeked at the rigging, but I promise I didn’t break anything. It’s kind of awesome. You have it in every room?”

  “Only the kitchen and my suite. And the common bathroom at the top of the stairs.”

  “Makes sense. Living room has all those windows, and the wiring is probably wonk, old as the house is. You’d have to tear up the walls. Or run a parallel system along the baseboards. Which wouldn’t have to be ugly.” He laughed self-consciously. “Sorry, I’m wired. Just finished a three-hour Halo marathon. You have a sick gaming setup.”

  Baz took a swig of his soda and eased into his chair. “You’re up late a lot? We’ll probably meet like this again.”

  “Great. You’ll have to make sure I stock your favorite sandwich fixings.”

  They sat together awhile, Baz mostly listening while Brian babbled, but he enjoyed it. It felt less that the world had ended and more like things had rearranged. No, this wasn’t sitting up with Marius or Damien or Sid. But it was good. Different, but good.

  When he finally went up the stairs, it was three in the morning. He entered the room as quietly as he could, but Elijah sat up anyway, bleary but focused on Baz as he went into the bathroom. “Feeling better?”

  “Yeah.” Baz kept the door cracked while he pissed in the darkness, washed his hands and flipped on the red lights to take out his contacts and swallow his drugs. “Sat up with Brian. Shot the shit, had a sandwich.”

  “Good to hear.”

  Baz cleaned his contacts, put in some eyedrops, washed his face, took his drugs. When he finished in the bathroom, he padded to the bed, not wanting to disturb Elijah, who he’d assumed had gone back to sleep. Except when he slipped beneath the sheets, ready to spoon his boyfriend, Elijah drew Baz into his arms. Kissed his cheek. Nipped at his chin.

  Slid his hands into Baz’s pajama pants, palmed his ass.

  “Shh.” Elijah sucked briefly on Baz’s lip before trailing tender kisses down Baz’s neck. “Lay back and enjoy the ride.”

  Baz’s fingers threaded into Elijah’s hair despite his attempts to stay them. “I…I’m better, but I can’t—”

  Elijah lifted his head to stop Baz’s mouth with his own. “I know, baby. But if you tell me it still doesn’t feel good, I’m going to call you a liar.”

  It did feel good. Elijah’s mouth and hands, yes—God, yes—but the way Elijah touched him was what felt best of all. The way he didn’t seem to care, even a little, that Baz’s dick never got more than semi-soft. The way he managed to keep the sensual spell going when Baz had to say no, he couldn’t bend his hip that way tonight. Elijah continued to kiss him, massage him, as he turned Baz onto his side, propped a mountain of pillows under his knee and fucked him that way instead.

  Baz didn’t cry, exactly. Mostly he let go. Went limp as Elijah moved inside him, an expert now on how to make it good even when taking so much care. He swam in the quiet sea of safety Elijah made for him, knowing him so well he fucked him instead of asked if he wanted to talk.

  It was too much, was all, and when Baz sighed in his quiet, mental version of an orgasm, some tears fell out. Exhausted, relieved, happy tears.

  Wiping a particularly fat one away, Elijah kissed Baz’s ear with aching softness and curled up wordlessly behind him.

  Shutting his eyes, Baz reached over his head, fumbling to take weak hold of a fistful of Elijah’s hair. Held on to it, lightly, until his muscles went slack and he drifted into a deep, safe sleep.

  Chapter Sixteen

  After leaving in the middle of his shift, Elijah assumed he was fired. That turned out to not be the case, because on Friday morning the head of food service himself showed up at the White House to apologize and assure him “disciplinary measures have been taken.” The student manager and other staff had been spoken to, and Elijah’s job waited for him. He wondered if this was part of the myth of association with Baz, this kid-glove handling, or if this was part of his own special-snowflake package.

  Elijah leaned on the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. “What about Lewis?”

  “He has his job too, of course. Provided he sticks to the dress code from now on.”

  Elijah dug his fingers into his arms. “Dress code?”

  “Well—yes.” His gaze skittered away. “Ahem—appropriate work attire.”

  Fucker. “Which is what, exactly?”

  “It’s stated in the manual. No inappropriate slogans. No distracting clothing.”

  Yes, because I Can Fly By Myself put people off their all-you-can-eat pizza buffet. Elijah pulled his smile as wide as it went. “Thank you so much for stopping by. You can take your goddamned job, and your manual, and your appropriate attire, and shove it all up your clenched little asshole.”

  After slamming the door in the man’s face, he pressed his forehead against it and blew his breath out in a hiss so he didn’t scream. He relaxed significantly when familiar arms went around him and Baz’s breath warmed his ear.

  “You make me hard when you get feisty, Sophie.”

  “I wanted to punch him in the face.” Elijah clenched his fists, then sagged. “Now I don’t have a job.”

  “You don’t actually need one.”

  “Yes, but Lewis does. And now he’s there by himself.” Fuck. Elijah should have thought things through. He was pretty sure he’d burned the food-service bridge and kicked the smoldering remains into the ravine.

  “Talk to Pastor. He can help Lewis find a new job. This shit is his bread and butter. He loves pulling rank.”

  “It’s going to be the same shit, different department, though. Either that or Lewis will get stuck in the library archives or something heinous. He needs something where he can get out.
Preferably where he could actually be she, but let’s not—” He cut himself off while the idea bloomed in his head, then turned around, grabbed Baz’s cheeks and tongued him hard. “Fuck yes. It could be Lejla at the internship with the home bakery.”

  Baz rubbed his jaw, embarrassed. “Ah. About that. I meant to tell you—I’m…working with Liz. Volunteering, nothing official.”

  Elijah blinked. “Cool, but why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shrugged, averting his gaze. “Just trying it out, didn’t want everybody excited I’d maybe found something to do with myself and then bail again. But I like it. I want to keep doing it. Anyway—I’m sure she’d welcome more help. So we could be there together, is my point. Unless she doesn’t want to.”

  Elijah wanted to make a big deal of Baz working with Liz, to tell him how awesome he thought it was, but he could tell he should hold off for a bit. Focus on Lejla. “Well, she’d have to set it up as work study, and I don’t know how that shakes out. But maybe there’s somewhere she could work where it could be like a fresh start. In Lejla outfits, as Lejla. Do you think Pastor would have any info?”

  “Possible.” Baz kissed his way down Elijah’s neck. “Better send Pastor a text.”

  Elijah got out his phone. “I’ll call, it’s faster— Oh.”

  He dropped the phone as Baz reached into his pajama pants and palmed his cock.

  Elijah pushed him away. “Baz! Giles said Brian came in last ni—” Baz’s mouth closed over him, and he shut his eyes and tipped his head against the door.

  Without so much as stuttering the blow job, Baz handed him the phone.

  Elijah accepted it with a shaking hand. His other went into Baz’s hair. “I can’t…text a pastor while— Oh fuck, Baz.”

  Baz hummed around Elijah’s cock before releasing it. “Oh, now there’s an idea.” Rising, he took Elijah’s hand and led his shaking legs to the stairs. “Yes, you should fuck Baz. Right now. Then you can go save the world. I’ll have dinner waiting when you get home.”

  That was, sort of, how it went. Elijah fucking Baz was practically a permanently inked portion of his daily morning schedule, though this was the first time Baz had lured him into it with a living room blow job first. As had been the case last night, it was only Elijah who came. In fact, this time Baz fell asleep after, as if he’d come his brains out.

  Elijah padded back downstairs and called Pastor, but his secretary said he was in a meeting. When he tried Liz, she texted him to say she was at a thing, and would it be okay if she called him later? Elijah told her yes, but he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He texted Lewis.

  Hey. How’s it going?

  Lewis responded within a minute. Fine. There was a pause. You?

  Food service dickhead came by.

  Yeah. Here too. Another pause. Basically told me it was my fault.

  Asshole. I told him to fuck himself with his appropriate attire.

  Wish I could.

  Well…I have an idea. But I’m still working out kinks. I want you to talk to Pastor Schulz. But first, you want to come over for dinner tonight?

  Can’t. Mom’s coming. School shopping.

  Tomorrow then.

  Don’t think it’s a good idea. I don’t want to meet with anybody right now or rock any boats.

  Oh. Before Elijah could think of what to say to that, Lewis texted again.

  What did you two do in the hallway? I couldn’t hear what Baz said through the door, and now everyone is weird, especially Trace.

  Trace was the beet bully, Elijah assumed. Baz pissed a circle around you, basically. Told people to leave you alone.

  I wish he hadn’t. They’ll be worse now.

  Elijah liked the alternate reality where the throwdown magically fixed everything. It had certainly felt as if it should have. He texted a reply. Maybe this time it will be different.

  Maybe you’ve been watching too much Disney.

  That comment smacked right across the face, of course, and Elijah stopped texting.

  It was nine in the morning. He’d called all the people on his list, Baz was still asleep, and Brian hadn’t woken up yet. Mina was busy with Jilly.

  Elijah had a cigarette. Then he had another one. Finally, when he acknowledged nobody was going to call him back, including Lewis, he made a pot of coffee, poured a big-assed cup and took his laptop into the piano practice room to write.

  It was slow going. The silence drove him nuts, and the entirety of Spotify felt wrong. Even RuPaul failed him, which never happened. On a weird lark, he tested samples of the Kiki’s Delivery Service soundtrack, and ended up buying it.

  He wrote six thousand words about a freshman getting diddled by his senior student piano instructor over a baby grand to music sounding like it belonged on a cute little Japanese merry-go-round. It was so gloriously fucked up he couldn’t stop. He didn’t, either, not until he wrote the end.

  Normally he thought it was gauche to type the words, but this time he did it, because for the first time in a million years, he’d finished something. He’d probably get arrested if anybody found out what he wrote it to, and it was horrible to have spent his poor-me money on music, but he was so glad to have broken through his block, he didn’t care.

  During a third read-through, the door opened and Baz came in with new coffee and a bowl of something smelling meaty-stewy, making Elijah’s stomach yowl. He accepted it with a guttural noise of appreciation and scarfed it.

  While Elijah ate, Baz turned his laptop around and peeked at the document. Elijah considered swiping it away, but he was so hungry he couldn’t bring himself to stop him.

  That, and he wanted to know if it was as good as he felt it was.

  It was a circle of hell, watching someone read your work. The only thing keeping Elijah from blurting out, What did you read? What made you make that face? was the food he was stuffing in his mouth, which was why when he ran out, he went to the kitchen to refill his bowl and grab a glass of water. He tripped when he saw the time—how the hell was it eight o’clock? What happened to lunch? Why had nobody called him?

  A glance at his phone told him people had called him. He must have had his headphones on and missed every ring. Liz, Pastor, even Walter. And Baz, and Aaron.

  He frowned at Baz as he returned to the practice room. “Why didn’t anybody tell me my phone—?”

  Baz held up a hand and didn’t look away from the screen.

  Sullen, Elijah ate, or tried to. He was more full than he thought, so he drank his water and paced behind Baz. He should call Pastor and Liz at least. Except…he wanted to hear what Baz thought of his story. He was terrified, but in a can’t-turn-from-the-wreck way. If Baz hated it, Elijah would probably never write another word.

  If he thought it was good…he might not write another word either, because what if those were the only words Baz liked?

  When Elijah had himself riding the vortex of a well-constructed doubt spiral, Baz closed the laptop and lay on the rug. Grabbing Elijah’s ankles, he tugged him over and kissed him on the mouth.

  “Baby.” Baz sucked under his chin, undid his fly and dove inside. “Fuck, but you have a beautifully dirty mind.”

  Really? Elijah wanted to ask what specifically had been good, but Baz had claimed his mouth again and put him on his back.

  Baz kissed Elijah’s body as he peeled his clothes away. “I’d take you…on the piano…” he paused to fuck his tongue in and out of Elijah’s belly button, “…but Aaron would kill me if I broke Fred. I like this story better than the one set in the science lab.”

  Elijah lifted his hips so Baz could remove his jeans. And then his underwear. “You did?” Wait. “You’ve read more of my stuff?”

  “I’ve read all of your stuff.”

  Elijah wanted to ask about that, but Baz had wandered to his mouth as he jacked their cocks together. By the ti
me Elijah’s lips were free, he was breathing hard and begging as he rolled to his stomach, spread his knees and tipped his ass in the air. “Fuck me. Now.”

  Baz licked up his crack before standing and divesting himself of the rest of his clothes. “We’re lucky Aaron and Giles like to fuck in here. There’s four different lubes on the bottom shelf of the bookcase.”

  Aaron. Giles. Roommates. Elijah glanced over his shoulder. “The door—”

  Baz knelt behind him, pressing a lube-slick finger into Elijah. “Don’t worry, baby. I cracked it open.”

  Saturday morning Baz was due to go on delivery rounds with Liz, but even after a hot shower and a bowl of oatmeal, he felt sluggish and achy. He tried to hide it from her when she picked him up, but they didn’t make it out of the driveway before she frowned at him. “You’re hurting, sweetheart. Why don’t you take the day off?”

  Baz grimaced around the rim of the Starbucks she’d brought him. “If I took the day off every time I ached, I’d live on my couch.”

  “Fair enough, but you seem to be having a harder time shaking it today. Can you get in for a massage?”

  “Had one yesterday.” Baz adjusted the pressure on his hip. “I need to resume hydrotherapy. They had me in it after the shooting, but I quit for the wedding and never restarted.” He sighed and rubbed his temple. “I hate going. It’s all the way into Saint Paul, and it kills two hours minimum of my day.”

  Liz tapped her finger on the steering wheel. “I keep meaning to give hydrotherapy a try. A friend of mine was telling me how anyone can use the punch cards, and a therapist gives you a custom plan. She said it’s done wonders for her knee. Maybe the two of us could go together. Use the buddy system.”

  Baz had figured it was idle musing, but it turned out Liz was completely serious. Before they finished for the day, she got him to cough up his therapist’s number and asked for permission to schedule them at the same time.

  “Sure, but I don’t need a therapist.” He rubbed his neck. “I have an exercise program on file. I just need to show up and use it.”