by J P Barnaby
The quiet whimper that escaped Anthony’s lips as Bren’s fingers penetrated his ass made Bren want to drive his cock so deep into him that they’d never separate again. He held on to that need, tucking it inside himself as he gently rubbed lube around the rim of Anthony’s entrance, hot and tight against his fingers. His boyfriend writhed against his hand, arching his back to take the fingers deeper.
“Do you like that?” Bren asked, as almost at the same time Anthony started to stroke his softening cock.
“There’s some pain, but I like the stretch and knowing you’re touching me like that.”
“Fucking your ass with my fingers?”
Anthony moaned and pulled his dick a little faster. Bren grabbed the lube with his free hand and poured a little over the peek-a-boo head of Anthony’s cock as it popped in and out of his fist. He’d need that later anyway, once Bren buried himself balls deep and they were both desperate to come.
“Try another.” Anthony opened his eyes and looked up at Bren. “Then I think we can try. The burn feels good when I’m jacking off.”
“Okay.” Bren did as Anthony asked and slid his ring finger in next to the other two. Anthony’s eyes slammed shut, and he moaned again, a guttural thing that made Bren’s skin tingle. He watched Anthony’s hand race over his cock, twisting over the head while his hips writhed. Fuck, if he came, Bren would too.
Anthony’s eyes opened as if waking from a dream, and he pushed Bren’s arm back, dislodging his fingers. Then he pulled Bren down on top of him.
“Please, Bren, please fuck me,” he whispered against the shell of Bren’s ear, and the pleading note made everything in him tighten. Bren reached between them and grabbed his own dick. He rubbed it against Anthony’s body and searched with his fingers until he found that tight little hole. With an ache that radiated through his core, Bren slid the head into Anthony’s body with reverence. The need of it made the backs of his teeth grind, but he forced himself to go slow. Anthony’s breathless whimper didn’t help anything.
“Give me a second,” Anthony moaned and moved his hips a fraction, then a bit more. Bren balled his hands into fists, dropping to his forearms beneath Anthony’s shoulders. He pressed his forehead into the side of Anthony’s neck and waited. The body beneath his moved again, harder, plunging his cock deeper, and his toes curled.
“Please,” he whispered against Anthony’s skin.
“Okay,” Anthony conceded, and Bren pushed forward with torturous slowness. When Anthony didn’t protest, he pulled out and did it again. Then faster. With Anthony’s mouth near his ear, Bren heard every sound that came out of him. Every fucking sound. They drove him insane with the need to slam into Anthony.
After a minute of awkward maneuvering, they came together in a slow rhythm. Push and pull, yin and yang, in and out, the same steps of a centuries old rhythm. Then Anthony kissed the side of his face.
“I love you,” he whispered, and any control Bren ever possessed broke in that instant. He wrapped his arms tightly around Anthony to hold on for the ride and threw himself into their lovemaking with abandon. He drove into Anthony, who cried out, not in pain, but in need. The sheer want in his voice made Bren crazy.
“Anthony,” Bren whispered over and over as the friction and heat sent him spiraling, racing toward climax. Anthony clenched the back of Bren’s hair with his free hand, and Bren pulled back, but Anthony’s legs wrapped tight around his waist, tugging him closer instead. He covered Anthony’s mouth, lost in the kissing and the heat of his lover’s body. When he could no longer contain it, he jerked his arms from under Anthony’s shoulders and put them on either side of his head, cradling him, as Anthony wrapped his arms around Bren.
They were one.
Anthony came first, the heat of it splashing on Bren’s abs as well as his own. He loved the cry Anthony made, soundless at first and then a whine of release. As Anthony fell back against the sheets, Bren didn’t slow; he raced toward his own finishing line, tightening everything in a desperate suspension of time.
“Bren,” Anthony whispered. Bren’s body took over, driving relentlessly, harder, deeper, until everything exploded in shards of color and he came inside Anthony’s hot, tight body. He tried to fall to the side, but Anthony pulled him down like a blanket.
“That was…. God, that was amazing,” Anthony said against his cheek between slow, distracted kisses.
“It’s always been fun and got me off, but it’s never been that intense for me,” Bren admitted. “I’ve never been in love with the guy I’d fucked before.”
“Can we just stay here for, maybe, two or three weeks? Just like this?” Anthony asked with a laugh.
Bren cupped Anthony’s face in his hands and placed a gentle kiss upon his lips.
“We can stay like this forever.”
THIS FIFTH and final story in Aaron and Spencer’s journey is the culmination of how wonderful love can be. Love isn’t about grand romantic gestures but rather the smallest of everyday details. It’s about believing in someone even when they don’t believe in themselves. It’s about helping someone to be the best person they can be. And it’s about holding someone’s hand when sometimes things don’t go as planned.
This book is dedicated to Paul Gillham, because he is all of those for me and so much more than I could have hoped for.
Author’s Note
IN JUNE of 2010, a terribly tiny and frightened voice woke me in the middle of the night to tell me about his monsters in the dark. He told me about his best friend Juliette and the horrors they had endured. He told me how alone he was. He told me how much his life hurt and how he wished it would stop. That all of it would just stop.
Aaron has been with me for six years now, and in that time, he has gone from a scarred, broken child to a functioning adult. It’s been an incredible transition to watch, because Spencer’s love didn’t make Aaron stronger. Aaron made Aaron stronger. That’s all any one person can do in the face of such pain and anguish—take one day at a time and pull oneself out of the darkness.
I’ve taken those steps. We all take those steps in one way or another. So whenever you feel that maybe those steps are too much for you to bear, try to take just one more. You are not alone. There are so many people taking those steps right beside you.
All it ever takes is one more step, because you never know what’s going to be around the corner.
With love,
JP Barnaby
February 2016
Acknowledgments
AARON, SPENCER, and I have traveled a long, hard road together. Along the way we’ve met some interesting people. We’ve loved. We’ve lost. We’ve found strength in ourselves we didn’t know we possessed. In other words, we’ve lived.
There are people who have stood by us in this journey who we would like to thank. Elizabeth North saw in Aaron something beyond the typical romance, something people could identify with, something worth sharing. She believed in Aaron and in me. Without her he wouldn’t have seen the light of day.
Jodi, Rowan, Kage, and Brandilyn, who have taken the thrown-together lumps of literary clay in this series and helped me shape them into something worth reading.
As always, my William Cooper, who stood beside me no matter what outrageous thing JP did. He believed in me like no other.
Amy Lane, who set the bar for me as an author. It was a bar I never quite reached—but I made an amazing friend in the process.
Rhys Ford, who told me I could write anything I set my mind to.
Andrew Grey, who always had kindness and advice for the new girl.
Brandon Witt, who finds promoting others far easier than promoting himself. I’m grateful for him in my life because he is a wonderful friend and also a very kind man.
Bran and Justin, who caught me when I landed in Atlanta and helped me keep my sanity by kidnapping me into weekly Mario Kart game nights. You don’t know what those times meant to me. I miss you both.
Shae Connor, who not only fixes all my commas bu
t helped me change my life. Without her I wouldn’t have had the courage to move to Atlanta and find such a fundamental shift in perspective. I found I could live without fear and darkness.
A big thank-you to the newcomer in my life, my Paul, who told me that if I wanted to write, I should write something amazing. If I didn’t want to write, I didn’t have to. That, either way, he would love me and stand next to me through all the new phases in our lives.
Finally—a thank-you to “JP,” who taught me more about myself than I was ever prepared to learn. She was the popular girl that I always wanted to be—on the VIP list for events, hanging out with the cool kids, and surrounded by loving readers who waited and watched for her next crazy adventure. In some ways I will miss her. She gave me the confidence I needed to stand in front of a crowd with some of the great authors in our genre and speak intelligently about my work. She gave me the courage to travel to places like New Orleans, New York, Orlando, and Atlanta to sign books when I thought no one would come. She gave me the spunk to answer the one Match.com e-mail that truly mattered.
She changed my life in innumerable ways, and I will always be thankful to her for it.
AND WITH that, I give you the final book in the Survivor series and the final book by author JP Barnaby. It’s been a wonderful ride.
Chapter 1
“SPENNA.”
It’s amazing how one word can change the course of someone’s life. Aaron Downing listened to the tiny voice coming through the computer speakers even as the toddler’s hands made spastic movements on the screen. Her pudgy little fist tried to make the sign for “I love you,” but she just couldn’t get her fingers to stay. Nell’s face came into focus as she helped her daughter sign for Spencer to see.
“I. Love. You. Too. Sophie.,” Spencer said with a laugh, his face full of delight.
Between Spencer’s work, Aaron’s school, laundry, cooking, and all the other drains on their time and energy, Aaron didn’t see that light in his boyfriend’s face often anymore. They’d settled into a routine. But that just meant things were stable.
Things were safe.
“She gets excited when I tell her about coming to see her Spenna.” Nell’s tired smile filled the screen as she signed and spoke aloud out of habit. The gray had spun its way through her hair since Aaron first met Aunt Nell at Spencer’s graduation. Laugh lines highlighted her eyes even as the bags beneath them sagged—a contrast to the laughter and exhaustion that came with caring for a precocious three-year-old girl.
“One more month! We cannot wait for you to get here,” Spencer signed.
Well, Spencer couldn’t. Aaron wasn’t much for children. He knew how life could change for a kid in an instant, leaving them shattered and with a lifetime of pain. The thought of that kind of responsibility left him cold—shivering and aching with it.
“I know. I’m a little nervous about taking her on the plane, but she is a good kid. And it’s only three hours.” Nell heaved a sigh and pulled Sophie higher onto her lap after the baby wiggled and slid down Nell’s legs.
“She will be fine. Bring a little candy to make her swallow and get her ears to release pressure. If she screams, there is not a lot you can do about it.”
Bored of the conversation, Sophie successfully squirmed down her mother’s legs, and her little blonde head toddled out of sight.
“Are the headaches any better?” Spencer signed.
“Some. I have a doctor’s appointment next week. I’ll talk to him about it then. Today the little adventurer and I are going to the grocery store.”
“You look tired.”
“I knew it would be a challenge, especially after the breakup with Jane. Being a single mom is not easy, but she is worth it. Usually.” Nell half turned, her eyes following the little girl as she searched for trouble.
“You’ll find that out one day,” she said, distracted by a bang off screen.
“I would like kids someday,” Spencer signed.
The book Aaron had been holding hit the floor with a dull thud. Pressure built in his chest, battling against the panic in his head. It took him a moment to stand before he could turn toward the kitchen. He didn’t stop when Spencer called his name. He didn’t stop when he banged his hip into the table where they’d just eaten dinner together. He didn’t stop until after he’d grabbed a Coke from the fridge and the Jack from the cabinet. The fear ate at the corners of his mind, and he poured. He didn’t drink much anymore, but the idea of kids deserved a special kind of beverage.
It didn’t take long for Spencer to follow, and he wrapped himself around Aaron’s small frame like he always did when Aaron needed him. No words were spoken. Spencer simply stroked his hair, pulling it back from his face, off his ears, anything to keep that physical contact between them. Seven years they’d been together, and Spencer’s touch still calmed him.
He’d had no idea Spencer wanted children. They’d never talked about it, not in all the time they’d been together. He’d just assumed that, like him, Spencer wouldn’t really care about having kids. They had other people’s kids—Allen’s son, Tony, and Jordan’s little girl, Anna. The room started to close in around him as Aaron thought about being responsible for a child—for their well-being, for their safety.
“Breathe. Aaron.,” Spencer whispered in his ear and took a deep breath. Then another. Aaron tried to follow his respiratory timing, but he couldn’t get his lungs to fill. Then Spencer rubbed his chest and took another breath. Aaron could do it that time, and he drew in enough air to make him explode. Then he let it rush out again. In… out…. Everything Dr. Thomas had taught him in their sessions those first few years.
“S… Sorry.” Aaron took another breath around the apology, shame creeping in through the edges of the word. It had been quite a while since he’d lost his shit like that.
“One. More. Deep. Breath. And. Then. Tell. Me. What. Is. Bothering. You.,” Spencer whispered against his skin.
He didn’t want to tell Spencer. Aaron had ruined other dreams for him—travel, marriage, and now kids. One day it would just be one dream too many. He had one shot at avoiding the conversation. If he could distract Spencer with sex….
Aaron turned around and found Spencer’s lips and kissed him hard, drawing a gasp of surprise. He got resistance at first, a gentle push against his shoulder, but Aaron didn’t relent. He stroked Spencer’s cheek even as he deepened the kiss. A low moan told him he’d hit the mark.
Well, until Spencer pulled back.
“Nice. Try.. Now. Spill..”
Fuck.
Aaron dragged Spencer back into the living room and sat cross-legged on the couch. Spencer sat next to him and mimicked his position. They’d had so many conversations this way, just sitting across from each other on the couch like teenage girls talking about boy bands.
“I did not know you wanted to have kids,” Aaron signed, his gaze focused on his hands instead of on Spencer’s face. A flush crept over his cheeks, and he hid it by staring at the faded couch cushions.
“I did not know it either. Not until Sophie. I am not saying right now. I want us to be married first—”
Aaron’s head shot up.
“Married? Why the hell would you want to get married?”
“Aaron, what did you think we were doing here? Moving in together? Aren’t we working toward a future?” Spencer’s hands flew through the air, the pain in his face clear.
“I did not think we would get this far.”
“You have so little faith in me.” Spencer’s hands dropped to his lap.
“No.” Aaron shook his head even as he signed. “I have no faith in me.”
“You are still waiting for me to leave. I know you are.”
Aaron didn’t have an answer for that. It was true, of course, but saying it aloud, even signing it, would only make it worse. It would only make it more true.
Spencer’s hand cupped his chin and forced him to look up into those hazel eyes he knew so well.
“I
. Am. Not. Leaving..”
Aaron nodded, but it was a halfhearted thing that didn’t even resemble agreement.
“I thought moving in together would prove that to you,” Spencer signed. “I do not know what it will take to prove it to you.” Then aloud he said, “I. Need. Some. Air..” Spencer surprised Aaron by getting off the couch and grabbing his shoes from the rack near the door. He didn’t say anything as he sat on the coffee table to put them on. When he finally headed toward the door, Aaron just watched him go. It closed with a finality Aaron felt somewhere deep inside his heart.
His hands itched from the anxiety and pain of their conversation. He didn’t want to keep pushing Spencer away, but it seemed like every opportunity afforded Spencer more and more distance. Instead of wondering if Spencer would come back, Aaron grabbed his cell phone from the desk and sent a text to Jordan. He did it every time he and Spencer argued, all the way back to those first message board messages. Jordan’s trauma might have come from a completely different source, but he certainly understood about the aftereffects.
What are you doing?
In the years since Jordan and Rachel started dating, it took longer and longer for Aaron to get a response to anything. When their daughter, Anna, came along, responses sometimes took days. This one took an hour, and Aaron had nearly given up on hearing from him at all.
Rachel is taking Anna for quality time at her mom’s tonight. I’m gonna grab a pizza, some beer, and watch something awful on TV.
