Making Peace

by Sasha Goldie

  His dick was hard, of course. Mine was, too, aching behind the pants I'd worn to hike in, though my panic attack threatened to soften it. Once I was freed, I was able to enjoy the moment again and take my time showing Carson that I'd really begun to care for him, and that I was definitely attracted to him. I stroked down his length, scooting down his body before I had time to change my mind and talk myself out of going this far.

  Taking him into my mouth, I sucked him in hard, bobbing up and down on his head before taking him deeper into my mouth and down my throat.

  Chase moaned, rubbing his hands across my hair and neck. His fingers danced across my upper shoulders as I licked his shaft. "Max," he moaned as I sucked him in again.

  Using my hand to stroke his shaft as I sucked his head in and out, I slowly worked him into a frenzy. As his orgasm built, he started making tiny sounds of pleasure, a cross between a moan and a growl. I pulled my head up to watch his face while stroking him with my hand.

  His head was thrown back on the pillow, eyes closed and facing up. He had one hand on my shoulder and the other gripping the couch cushion behind him.

  With a smile, I went back to doing what I was doing that put that blissful expression on his face.

  He whispered my name several times before he came, my movements driving him crazy. I wanted to flip him over and fuck him senseless, but I didn't know if he was ready for that. Plus, I didn't have any lube in the house. I'd run out the week before and hadn't replaced it.

  His leg jerked and when he spoke, his voice was strangled. "I'm about to come," he said, gripping my shoulder.

  Moving faster, I tried to give him the best orgasm I could. He deserved a good blowjob after helping me with the job and being a friend.

  He gasped as he squirted into my mouth. I swallowed with relish, enjoying the taste of the pleasure I'd given him. When I was sure he was finished, I lifted my head and leaned forward, settling on the couch half on top of him, my head on his chest.

  It was an intimate move, but it felt right. Once in that position, I realized how much I liked being that close to him and hearing his heartbeat.

  "Let me return the favor," he whispered.

  I was desperate for an orgasm, hornier than I'd been in many years, but the thought of him leaning over me made my throat want to close up. I could maybe handle standing while he sat on the couch and sucked me off, but how to explain that to him?

  He'd said before that I was shy, and maybe I was. I didn't want people knowing my business. I'd already opened up to him about my injury and modeling. I wasn't ready to talk about my anxiety and PTSD yet.

  "I'm happy giving you an orgasm," I whispered. "You don't owe me one." I couldn't give him more than that. The scars on my hips sprang to mind as well. I was more sensitive about them than the missing limb. If he made one wrong facial expression, it would crush me.

  The photographer had made them look beautiful, but he'd had perfect lighting and scenery.

  "As much as I'd like to continue, I'd rather wait until you're ready," he whispered, his hands trailing along my shoulder. How had he picked up on my hesitancy? I tried not to show panic.

  "I just don't want to move too fast," I replied.

  "It's understandable." He wiggled under me, pulling at his shorts.

  "Sorry," I said and sat up. "I didn't mean to leave you hanging out there."

  "It's fine," he said as he pulled up his shorts and adjusted himself. "That was, well, amazing, frankly. But, are you sure there isn't anything I can do for you?" he asked with his eyes pointedly looking at the bulge in my pants.

  Opening myself up that much was more than I could bear at that moment. Maybe if we hadn't ended up with him on top of me, I wouldn't have been so hesitant.

  "Okay," he said awkwardly. "We can wait." Sitting up, he whistled softly at Droo. "You ready, boy?"

  Droo's ears twitched. He didn't want to get up. "Come on," Carson said.

  "Yeah, you should probably take him on home," I said, a little hurt that he was so eager to leave after what we'd done. I put a smile on my face. "I need a shower and a nap after the shelter and river."

  "Yeah," he agreed. "Me, too."

  After he clipped Droo's leash on, I walked him to the door. Turning back toward me, he looked into my eyes. "I had a wonderful time today."

  "I did, too." The anxiety demon was riding me hard. He was leaving right after his blowjob because that was all he'd wanted from me. It hadn't been about me at all, it had been about sex.

  "Can I call you later?" he asked, putting a hand on my arm.

  "Maybe text?" I asked, hurt but trying not to show it. I didn't know if I had a legitimate reason to feel rejected or if my unsteady nerves were talking me into a spiral.

  "Sure," he said, a confused expression on his face. "Okay."

  I rubbed Droo's head. "Bye, old man." I pecked Carson on the cheek, then they headed out, leaving me feeling empty and alone.

  I'd just had my first sexual experience since before my injury. I should've been excited. So why did I feel like I'd made a huge mistake?

  12

  Carson

  All I could think about all night was whether or not the blowjob had been a mistake. Corey was covering the new lunch shift at the restaurant, so I didn't have to be at the brewery until later. All morning, I’d been restless, starting one chore and abandoning it halfway through. Distracted, because my mind was almost exclusively on Max and what I should do about our situation.

  Finally, I gave up. "Droo, I’m going over there," I said decisively. Droo didn’t respond, of course. After a shower and a few minutes making sure my hair didn’t look too crazy, I left for Max’s.

  Ian was in the shop when I pulled up. He’d been taking more and more time off, giving more trust and responsibility to his new shop manager so that he could spend time with Nate.

  "How’s it going, Carson?" Ian asked, looking up from the inside of a car he was working on. We’d been friends for a long time, though since he met Nate, he hadn’t had much time for hanging out with his friends. Not that I blamed him. If I could get things turned around with Max, I wouldn’t mind taking some time to ignore my friends either.

  "Oh, you know. Just coming to say hey to Max."

  He pulled himself up out of the engine and stared at me, a wrench in one hand. "I see."

  "You don’t see anything," I snapped.

  "Okay, I don’t see anything." He turned back to the engine.

  "Just worry about your car and your wedding." I headed toward the door to Max’s apartment.

  "Speaking of the wedding," he said, this time not bothering to look up from his work. "Can we have it at the brewery?"

  "Of course you can. Do it on a Sunday when we’re normally closed if you can."

  The sound of his wrench turning inside the engine stopped. He looked up, a calculating expression on his face. “Okay, I’ll see you later,” he said with a wicked smile. "Not that I saw you this time."

  He could speculate all he wanted to, and tease me all he wanted to, but I didn’t want him making Max feel weird. "Hey, Ian?" I stopped and turned around. "Don’t give Max a hard time, okay?"

  "I wouldn’t," he said, seeming a little offended.

  "I know. But I just wanted to cover my bases. He’s shy."

  "Yeah, I noticed. Don’t sweat it. I’ve got your back. Go on." He nodded toward the door then went back to ignoring me.

  With that settled, I hesitated at the door, but then jerked it open, worried Ian might see me hesitate and have ammunition to tease me with when I came back downstairs.

  Climbing the stairs slowly, I took my time gathering my nerves before knocking on the inner door. I didn’t want to just barge in. Just because Max’s place was unconventional didn’t mean he deserved any less privacy.

  Max answered the door in seconds, no shirt on and a surprised look on his face. "Oh," he said after he saw it was me. "I figured you were Ian."

  Max’s chest drew my eyes. His pecs were damn nea
r perfection. Not too big, but big enough to make me want to bite them and flick his hardened nipples with the tip of my tongue.

  Damn. That went south quickly. "Can I come in? I just thought we should talk."

  He jumped back. "Of course, please."

  I stepped up into the apartment and turned toward the living room. Free weights were sitting around as if I’d interrupted his workout. "I should’ve called first," I said. "I didn’t mean to interrupt you."

  "No, no," he said as he moved a couple of fifteens off the couch. "You didn’t. I was just about to get started, so you’re just a good reason to procrastinate."

  "Well, happy to be of service," I joked as I sat down. Max sat right beside me, his thigh touching mine. That was a good sign, that he was willing to touch me. "I thought we should talk about what happened. I haven’t been able to focus on anything except, uh. You know.”

  He sat back and nodded. I positioned myself so I sat sideways on the couch, facing Max. I wanted to be able to see him as we spoke. "Was it me, or was it really weird last night after I had..." I trailed off, unable to make myself say the word orgasm.

  Max smiled. "An orgasm?"

  Laughing, I put my hand on his knee. "Yeah. Am I wrong?"

  "No, you’re not wrong." Max’s smile disappeared. "I think that it’s obvious we’re attracted to each other."

  "Agreed," I said firmly. As I opened my mouth to suggest we go on a real date, Max continued. I closed my mouth and listened.

  "I think at this point, being friends with benefits might be a good option for us." He looked so apprehensive as he spoke that I couldn’t bring myself to react the way I wanted to.

  I wanted to ask why in an angry tone of voice.

  But I didn’t. "Why?" I asked, trying to sound mildly curious. "Just wondering why you wouldn’t be interested in more."

  "Yesterday was great, but I really just want to go slow."

  That was a non-answer. He didn’t want to start a relationship, but I wasn’t sure if it was because he wasn’t ready for one for some reason, he was afraid of commitment, or something about me was repulsive.

  He really made a guy feel special. I was saved from trying to find the right thing to say by his phone dinging in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the screen. "Crap," he muttered. "I forgot."

  "What?" I asked, nosy.

  "I promised my parents I’d mow their lawn today since I’m off." He stood and held his hand out to help me up. "I’m sorry we have to cut this short."

  "You know," I said tentatively. "I don’t have to be at the brewery until later. Would you like some help?"

  "I mean, I’m not going to turn down help with yard work, but you really don’t have to do that."

  Our conversation wasn’t over, not by a long shot. I wasn’t ready to tuck my tail between my legs and go home. "I’m happy to. I haven’t seen your parents in a while, anyway."

  "Okay then," he said. “But really, it’s not necessary.”

  “I insist.” He nodded, and once we stopped talking about relationships, he became happy-go-lucky again. Maybe he had commitment issues? I needed to get to the bottom of it.

  "I’ll drive," I offered.

  "Gladly," he said. "Yours has air conditioning."

  While I waited on him to change into his old jeans, I looked around at his possessions. He’d hung pictures on the walls since we swam. I hadn’t paid any attention to them the night before, more focused on the naked pictures of him, but I had ample opportunity now.

  Most of them were of his parents, but he had a couple of his time overseas. He stood proudly with his unit, obviously right after boot camp. His physique was still more scrawny than built out in the picture, and his skin was pale. He looked like a kid.

  The picture next to it looked like it had been taken just days before. This was the Max I knew now. Filled out, sun hardened, and a little world weary. I studied the background to see if I could tell when it was taken.

  "We took that the week I left Seattle to move back here," he said behind me.

  "So, not long ago."

  "Just a few months. They brought it to me as a house-warming present." He sat on the couch and laced up his boots.

  "You’re close to them."

  "Not as close as I once was. But, there are some things you go through that form a bond. What we’ve seen and done together means we’ll always be bonded, for better or worse."

  I turned and studied him as he spoke. "It sounds deep."

  He looked up at me as he adjusted his jeans over his boots. "It was."

  "Like, therapy deep?" I raised my eyebrows, so curious about what his missions were that I was about to burst. But, he was talking. I didn’t want to press too much and have him close down on me.

  "Yes. Therapy deep. I still speak to my therapist via video chat once a week. It's really helpful." He raised his eyebrows as if challenging me to say anything negative about him seeing a therapist. I had nothing negative to say.

  "I think that's great. So many men are closed off about things like depression and PTSD. They think they're bad words or something." I took his hand. "I'm really glad you don't."

  Remembering I was only supposed to be his friend, I dropped his hand and walked toward the door. "Ready?" I asked.

  The drive to his parents' house was a little quiet. He was really pensive, looking out the window the whole time. I wanted to ask him to talk, but obviously, he still had things to work through, and me pressing wouldn't help that at all.

  His mom was thrilled to see me, of course. “Carson!” She yanked me into a hug. "I'm so glad you came along. But you don't have to help with our yard work.” She opened the screen door wider. "Get in here, you two.”

  We walked in and within seconds had glasses of iced tea in our hands. “I don’t mind a bit helping out,” I finally replied, once she stopped scurrying around. “Max is an old friend, and it's my pleasure.”

  She gave us scrutinizing looks. “You boys were always close. I hope you get that way again."

  She usually had some reminiscence or another she wanted to talk about whenever she saw me. Today was no exception. “Do you remember the day you fell out of the tree in our back yard?” She went off talking about how Max wouldn't leave my side the whole time they set my shoulder. I smiled at him. My parents had gone to spend the weekend in the city, and I stayed with Max. He comforted me and made me feel like everything would be okay through the pain.

  His dad was a lot like Max. Shy, reserved, but if possible, quieter. “‘Lo, Carson.”

  “Mr. Watson, good to see you."

  We mowed the lawn in a short time. He insisted I take the riding mower while he did the trim. It didn't leave much time for talking, only longing glances on my part. A few times I felt like his eyes were on me, but when I looked, he was focused on his task.

  This wasn't going to be easy.

  13

  Max

  I tried so damn hard to ignore Carson. Why had he insisted on coming with me? And why hadn't I just refused him? My mom treated him like the prodigal son, of course.

  "Please, have some lemonade," she said as she handed us both a glass of the icy cold drink. "I appreciate you both so much.” We’d just finished the yard. As we put the mowers away, mom came out to the back patio and put the refreshing drinks on the large picnic table.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Watson." Carson gulped it down gratefully. It really hadn't taken us long, splitting the work, but it was still so hot out.

  "No, thank you, boys." Mom smiled encouragingly, then turned to go back in the house. Her back was to Carson, sitting at the table, so she widened her eyes and nodded her head toward him, followed by an overly exaggerated eyebrow wiggle.

  "Thanks, mom," I said in a tight voice. "Go back inside and rest now." I tried to tell her with my eyes to mind her own damn business, but I knew it was a futile effort. She'd never do that.

  "What was that about?" Carson asked with a smile.

  "I'm pretty sure she's alrea
dy got us married off," I said, then drained my lemonade. "I know you've got a shift. We can head back to my place.” I didn't sit. Staying would only invite my mother to meddle.

  "Okay, yeah," he said as he looked at his phone. “Shoot, I do need to go."

  We walked into my parents' house and said goodbye to them before heading to his truck. "Next time, bring Droo," I said and opened the truck door. As the words left my mouth, I realize they implied there would be a next time or a time after that. Like a relationship.

  "Tell me one more time." Carson stopped in front of his truck and faced me. "Why are we only friends again?" He didn't really give me time to answer, because he turned and walked toward his driver’s side door and hopped in, leaving me standing in front, speechless.

  He was great. My parents loved him. I'd known him nearly all my life. Why was I so scared of baring my whole self to him? I'd already told him the hard stuff. The leg, the therapy.

  But not the fear of being trapped. And not why.

  I followed him into the truck and buckled my seatbelt as he pulled out of the driveway. "I'm happy for something more to grow," I said cautiously. "I just didn't want to jump straight from renewing the friendship of our kid days into a full-blown relationship. Like, let's give it a few weeks before we start planning the wedding."

  "I'm more than okay with taking it slow," he said. "But you act like you're scared of something." Shaking his head, he frowned. "I'm sorry. I promised myself I wouldn't push. If there is something you're scared of or something holding you back, I'm willing to be friends, with or without benefits, while you figure that out. I'm not going anywhere."

  He stopped talking after saying that, and his words stuck to me. How could he know the perfect thing to say?

  He wasn't going anywhere. Not like Do-Yun. I studied his profile as he drove. He must've felt my scrutinization, because he looked at me out of the corner of his eyes, keeping his gaze on the road. "What?" he asked with a quizzical smile.