by J P Barnaby
In a flash Ryan turned, his arms winding around Spencer’s neck like a cobra strike, and then Ryan’s mouth captured his in a searing kiss. Spencer’s mouth opened, inviting the stranger in. God, it felt so good. He wanted to take Ryan into the bathroom and fuck him senseless. He wanted to give him the hottest blow job anyone ever had.
Ryan’s tongue explored his mouth, his hands tightening in Spencer’s hair.
God, yeah… harder… more.
Fuck, Aaron never let Spencer kiss him like….
Aaron.
Oh Jesus.
Gently, he disengaged himself from Ryan and took a deep breath, trying to will his cock down and his brain into focus. His heart fucking ached. They’d been together for almost three years, and he’d just kissed another guy. Humping him, practically fucking him on the dance floor, wanting to fuck him.
“I live a few blocks from here. Come home with me,” Ryan said, oblivious to the war raging in Spencer’s head. His cock and beer-fueled libido thought that was a fabulous idea, but his heart, his heart said no fucking way.
“I have a boyfriend. I am so sorry.”
Ryan’s face fell, but Spencer didn’t stop to apologize further. He didn’t even stop to tell Clare, he simply ran. The beer and the warmth in the room, the steady thump of sex in his groin confused everything inside his head. He wanted to go back and finish what he’d started with Ryan. Instead he passed the larger bar and headed for the door.
AARON’S PHONE rang on the nightstand next to him as he read. Startled, he picked it up and checked the display. Spencer? He had no idea how Spencer would hear him if he answered, but Spencer had never called him, not in all the time they’d been dating, so without even stopping to think, he answered.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
A horrible feeling crawled into the pit of his stomach, roiling with fear. Spencer wouldn’t call him. Someone else must have his phone. But why? Why would they call him? A second later his phone chirped, and a message came through.
[Spencer] I need to see you. I am on my way to dad’s. Can you meet me there in half an hour?
Aaron’s heart hammered. He couldn’t explain the fear, but Aaron didn’t deal well with change, and this was something entirely new in Spencer’s behavior.
[Aaron] Yeah. Allen left me his keys. I’ll take his car. Are you okay?
[Spencer] Don’t want to text and drive. See you in half an hour.
Aaron threw the covers back and crawled out of bed. It took about twenty minutes to drive to the house, and he didn’t want to keep Spencer waiting. Whatever pain Spencer was in, he didn’t want to prolong it, and Aaron could tell that something hurt the boy he loved more than anything. Throwing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, he stopped in the bathroom just long enough to run a brush through his hair. He’d brushed his teeth before crawling into bed. Everything else would just have to be good enough.
At a little past midnight, no one rattled around downstairs, so Aaron left a note for his mother and grabbed Allen’s keys from the hook next to the door. When he got outside, he saw that his mother had parked behind Allen’s car, so it took him a good ten minutes to move his mother’s car, move Allen’s car, move his mother’s car back, and then take off for Spencer’s house. He arrived just minutes after Spencer, who sat in the car gazing out the driver’s side window, his eyes lost and unfocused.
Aaron put his hand on the glass, and Spencer started, brought out of his thoughts abruptly. He opened the door and climbed out of the car. He’d wrapped himself around Aaron before either of them could speak. Aaron loved the feel of being in Spencer’s arms, especially when Spencer stroked his face or his hair. Nothing in the world compared with that feeling, and it started to calm the terror in his heart until he felt Spencer’s hands shake.
Aaron pulled out of his arms just as they got to the doorstep.
“Didn’t you bring a bag?” Aaron asked when he saw Spencer carried nothing in his hands except keys, which he used to unlock the door. When they stepped inside, Spencer typed the code on a keypad to disable the alarm, and Aaron noticed he needed to type it twice.
“What is it?” he asked, putting a hand on Spencer’s face. Spencer covered Aaron’s hand on his face and closed his eyes for the briefest moment. He took Aaron’s hand and led him up the stairs to his old room. It took just a moment for him to peek in at his father to tell him they were there, but then Spencer closed the bedroom door and sat Aaron on the bed as if he were made of spun glass, something fragile and precious.
“I have to tell you something, and it is going to hurt both of us,” Spencer signed, not bothering to take the time to speak aloud. Aaron’s heart froze in his chest. He didn’t want to hurt. Especially not now with everything going on with the trial. Even with Jordan’s and Dr. Thomas’s help, he barely held on.
“I do not understand. What happened?”
“My friends from work took me dancing tonight, and it was great. I got a couple of beers, I danced with Clare, and no one else could hear either. It was almost like I was normal. Then this guy started talking to me. He could sign. He said his sister was deaf. Anyway, he asked me to dance, and I said yeah. I’d already had two beers, so I felt pretty good. We got out onto the floor and we were dancing pretty hot and heavy and then he… uhm… he… he… he kissed me. I… and I kissed him back before I realized what I was doing, and I hate myself so much right now. And I will understand if you hate me too, but I had to… I needed to tell you.” A tear slid down Spencer’s face, and then another.
Aaron sat on the bed, stunned. The pain in his chest expanded to fill him like an invisible vapor of jealousy, hurt, and shame. If he could just be a fucking boyfriend for Spencer, kiss him and blow him and fuck him like a normal guy, Spencer wouldn’t have kissed someone else.
God, Spencer kissed someone else.
“Did you get his number?” Aaron asked with morbid curiosity. Maybe Spencer could hook up with this guy again and have a normal relationship that didn’t include screaming and crying and being so fucked up he couldn’t have anything he wanted.
“Oh God, baby, of course not.” Spencer’s tears fell harder, and he choked out a sob. His issues hurt Spencer just as much as they hurt him. They couldn’t keep going on like they had been. Something needed to change.
Aaron stood up, trying to feel more confident than terrified, more like an adult than a frightened little boy. He put his hand on the side of Spencer’s face.
“I love you,” he said and slid his hand to the back of Spencer’s head, pulling him forward and capturing his lips. “I love you,” he whispered again against Spencer’s lips and licked them, asking to be let inside.
“Aaron.,” Spencer murmured into his mouth, and Aaron took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. He wrapped his arms around Spencer’s neck and felt Spencer’s slide around his waist. For the moment, Spencer was his, and he had to keep him. He couldn’t function without Spencer. If that meant he needed more, then Aaron would give it to him.
He had to.
Aaron pulled Spencer’s shirt over his head, and then his own. The all-encompassing fear of losing Spencer overrode the shame he normally felt being naked. He forced the thought out of his head, drove it away with the force of his need to be normal, just this once, just for Spencer. Without breaking the kiss, he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled both denim and the cotton underneath over his hips. Spencer sucked in a breath and pulled back, looking into Aaron’s face.
“I want this,” Aaron said, putting a finger over Spencer’s lips to forestall any argument. If Spencer gave him an out he would take it, and he couldn’t afford to take it. “Take off your clothes.” Aaron pulled everything else off, including his socks, and climbed naked into Spencer’s bed. Spencer stood silent, stunned for a long moment before he did as Aaron asked. God, Aaron loved Spencer’s skin, unbroken, pale, and beautiful in the moonlight streaming from the bedroom window. He wanted to tell Spencer, but the words wouldn’t come past the lump in his
throat, the horrified little part of him that screamed he couldn’t do this.
Spencer pulled back the blankets and crawled into bed, gathering Aaron in his arms.
“I. Love. You. So. Much… God., Aaron., Please. Tell. Me. You. Forgive. Me….” The anguish in Spencer’s voice tore a hole in Aaron’s soul. It wasn’t Spencer’s fault; it was his.
“There is nothing to forgive,” Aaron said simply and turned Spencer’s face to the side, to press his lips to Spencer’s throat. Long, slow, openmouthed kisses along Spencer’s neck, his shoulder, made him moan and slide trembling fingers into Aaron’s hair. When Aaron’s mouth closed over one hard nipple, Spencer’s back arched. Aaron had never taken the initiative in their sexual relationship, ever. But he had to. He licked and sucked Spencer’s nipples until his lover bucked hips up into empty space, showing exactly what he needed to do. Aaron’s kisses moved lower, over Spencer’s abs, his hip, and then his cheek brushed Spencer’s cock.
“Please.,” Spencer whispered, a whimper Aaron felt as much as heard.
Get the kid to open his mouth.
Aaron opened his mouth as the first tear fell, taking in the head of Spencer’s cock. So fucking thankful Spencer couldn’t hear him, he let a sob escape when he pushed forward and took it deeper.
Yeah, you like that big dick, don’t you?
Choke on it.
Their voices were so loud in his head. Aaron used his own spit to lubricate his hand while he jacked Spencer off around his mouth. He kept his eyes closed. He couldn’t stand to see, couldn’t watch as Spencer changed into the man with the scar. There was no finesse in the act. He just sucked as hard as he could, bobbing his head like he saw on the porn Dr. Thomas had him watch, jerking Spencer off with the head of his cock in Aaron’s mouth.
It felt like forever, but it must have been enough.
“Aaron., Stop… Wait.,” Spencer choked out, but Aaron ignored his pleas, ignored his hands as they tried to push Aaron away. He held on, waiting for it. The man had pulled out and shot his disgusting load on Aaron’s face. He wouldn’t let it happen again. Sucking hard, he moved his hand faster.
Come on, Spencer, fucking do it already.
“Fuck.,” Spencer cried, and his hands tightened in his hair, just like the man’s had. It was one reason Aaron always kept his hair so short after that. He swore no one would do that to him again because he couldn’t stand the way it felt. Hot, slimy, sour spunk shot from Spencer’s cock and into Aaron’s mouth, and he nearly gagged. Forcing himself from the moment, Aaron waited until Spencer’s cock stopped spewing, stopped pulsing, and pushed himself away. He rolled off the bed and didn’t stop moving, not even when Spencer begged to return the favor, only then noticing that Aaron wasn’t hard.
He shut the bathroom door with a little more force than he meant to, slammed the faucet on full blast, and dropped to his knees in front of the toilet. The muscles in his stomach contracted, forcing everything up and out into the bowl, his dinner, the ice cream he’d shared with his mother after, and Spencer’s semen. It took a few minutes for the heaves to stop, for his hands to stop shaking, and for his legs to give out. While the faucet ran above him, he curled up on the floor with his back resting against the vanity. The first sob shook his body with the force of his pain.
The next was worse.
He didn’t even notice the water shutting off until silence filled the small room, and his sobs bounded harsh and loud off the walls. Spencer dropped to his knees next to Aaron and then fell onto the floor. It took just a moment for Spencer to pull Aaron into his lap.
“Sorry… So. Fucking. Sorry… Selfish… God. Damn. Selfish….” Spencer’s voice shook almost as much as his body as he cried around Aaron, naked and trembling and utterly devastated by Aaron’s pain.
Thirteen
THEY STAYED in bed until noon the next day, not talking, not sleeping, simply existing. Spencer couldn’t bring himself to talk to Aaron about what happened, not only the blow job but the devastating scene afterward. Their relationship balanced on a razor-thin wire. One misstep and they’d both fall. He pressed his lips to Aaron’s temple, stroking the soft black hair away from Aaron’s forehead. God, he loved the way Aaron’s hair had grown out, how it felt under his fingers, just another thing Spencer never told him. So many things between them went unsaid.
No more.
“Tell. Me. We. Are. Going. To. Make. This. Work….” Spencer whispered against Aaron’s skin, more prayer than statement. Aaron’s hands came up and then fell back onto his chest, covered completely with the T-shirt he’d worn over the night before. Aaron had even put his jeans back on to sleep in, telling Spencer he felt exposed and vulnerable. Spencer had hated himself in that moment.
Aaron sighed and raised his hands again.
“I will not lose you. It will kill me.” He rolled to his side and pressed his face against Spencer’s neck, clinging, desperate. Spencer tightened his arms, not restraining but loving, and Aaron kissed his chest.
They’d figure it out, together.
They had to.
Please.
BECAUSE MUNDANE things like laundry and buying food still existed in the world, Spencer left early Sunday morning for the apartment. The sorrow in Aaron’s face as he climbed back into Allen’s Mustang nearly broke him. He wanted to call Eric and give notice right then, but they counted on him to lead his team, and he’d committed himself. And while he hated himself for it, a very small part of him liked his independence. He didn’t want to move back in with his father and admit defeat.
Laundry went by in a blur as he sat in the dingy, depressing closet that passed as his apartment building’s laundry room. He didn’t bother with a book or his laptop. With Aaron on his mind, he wouldn’t have been able to concentrate anyway. He’d already resolved to ask Aaron to move in with him, though he knew it would be pointless. As Spencer’s father told him during their fight, Aaron would never leave his comfort zone. So he made a list of things he could do to make things easier for him and Aaron:
1. Try to work from his father’s house a few days a week.
2. Move closer to Aaron and commute.
3. Quit his job.
4. Ask Aaron to move downtown with him.
Since Voyager didn’t have a telecommuting policy, the first option would be just as fruitless as asking Aaron to move in. Quitting his job would be the last resort, so that left moving closer to Aaron and commuting. It would put more strain on him but maybe less strain on Aaron. Maybe his dad would help him find a place.
The distraction went on while he shopped for food for the apartment. He remembered the cereal but forgot the milk. He picked up toothpaste but forgot deodorant. Next time he would make a list, but with Aaron’s pain so heavy on his heart, he couldn’t really be bothered. When everything had been put away, Spencer pulled out his laptop, sat on the brand new leather couch he rarely saw, and put his sock-clad feet on the oak coffee table his father insisted he take to have something of home.
His phone vibrated, and he pulled it from his jeans pocket.
[Aaron] The prosecutor called. I have to go in to his office tomorrow.
[Spencer] Did you call my dad?
[Aaron] Yeah, he’s going with me. He thinks they probably set a trial date, and they want to know if I’m going to freak out on the stand.
[Spencer] Are you?
[Aaron] Fuck if I know.
[Spencer] You are the strongest man I’ve ever met, but if it is going to hurt you, don’t do it. You do what is best for Aaron not the state of Illinois.
[Aaron] What about what’s best for Juliette?
[Spencer] Aaron, baby, Juliette is dead. Nothing can hurt her anymore. You have to keep yourself safe.
[Aaron] I haven’t been safe since that night.
[Spencer] Will putting them in jail make you feel safe?
[Aaron] Maybe. Your dad thinks it might.
[Spencer] I love you, Aaron. No matter what you decide to do, I’ll be right there.
> [Aaron] I love you.
After a long night, sleep eluding him, Spencer crawled out of bed and, for the first time since he’d started, did not want to go to work. He wanted to drive back to the suburbs, wrap Aaron in his arms, and never move again. Instead he went into the bathroom to take a shower and try to wash away his feelings of failure.
It wasn’t until he left the apartment and walked up Newport to Halsted that he felt like himself. Jesus, Aaron gave him a blow job, which tilted his whole world on its axis right there, not to mention the explosive drama afterward. He’d kissed some guy in a club, danced with him, gone out with friends and felt comfortable. Becoming an adult was so much different from being a kid, trapped in the rut of mean people and few options.
The train ride seemed to last twice as long as it should have, but he walked into the lobby of his building right on time. He didn’t have the urge to stop at Starbucks for coffee or even a bagel but instead strode to the elevators and headed up to their office. Clare sat at her desk when he dropped his bag onto the chair, but she didn’t turn around as she normally did to greet him. When he glanced around, he noticed Eric and Paul weren’t in yet.
“Good. Morning…,” he tried, but Clare didn’t turn around. With a sigh, he booted up his workstation and sat down. The log-in screen took forever, but eventually, the desktop came up and he fired up the chat program. Spencer was almost surprised to see Clare’s status listed as green.
[Spencer] I guess that means you’re mad at me. I’m really sorry about Friday night.
