by Con Riley
“He sounds very cool, Theo. You should bring him with you next time.” Chris nodded across at Robyn as if there wouldn’t be anything weird about Theo bringing a virtual friend out on a double date. He snorted, smiling.
“That’s okay. I can barely keep him under control in my chat box. Who knows what he would be like in real life?”
“What do you think he would be like?” Robyn fiddled with the ends of his hair, a cascade of titian waves, bright against his black shirt.
“Oh, I don’t know. Annoying? He’s funny, definitely funny, but with the kind of wit that could cut easily. I think that’s a defense mechanism, though. Something made him like that, but he’s been so much more relaxed lately. He’s kind, full of empathy, and so fucking thoughtful. Of course he’s dumb sometimes, but most of the time he’s extraordinarily insightful, and patient too. I’ve never met anyone with such profound intelligence. Did I say that he’s kind?” Theo looked up from the napkin he was shredding.
Chris had tears in his eyes. “Welcome back, Theo.”
HE LEFT his friends—accepting their hugs, then surprising himself when he found it hard to let them go, promising to get together again soon—and headed straight to the gym. If he went twice during the weekend, he had more time in bed to chat with Morgan before heading into work during the week. Theo could see that the way he used to head to the gym early was left over from his life with Ben. Every single moment of the weekend used to be mapped out for him—shopping, lunch, afternoon sex, chores—so time for weekend gym sessions had been rare.
Now, he would laze in bed seven mornings a week if it weren’t for his job. His dad used to lose his voice yelling for Theo to get his lazy ass out of bed as a teen. To be honest, he could still sleep most of the day away. He only ever got up early for Ben and for work. He and Morgan had an interesting discussion about weekend morning routines. Theo had no idea how the subject came up in the first place.
MORGAN: Blow job.
MORGAN: No, hand job and kissing.
MORGAN: No, that means getting up to brush my teeth.
MORGAN: Blow job.
THEO: I’m almost certain I only asked what you liked for breakfast.
MORGAN: Next you’ll be asking what my favorite color is. You’re so very gay, Theo.
MORGAN: But just so you know. Blow job, then breakfast—preferably in bed—followed by kissing and some lazy humping. Then lunch. I don’t do anything energetic before lunch. People who do are insane.
Lazing in bed with Morgan in his chat box after that sort of conversation had some unexpected consequences which left Theo feeling breathless. Seeing Peter’s truck in the gym parking lot after he left the coffee shop made his breath catch all over again. Fishing out his cell phone, he scrolled back through messages and missed calls until he located a voice mail he’d neglected to pick up.
“Hey, you, I’ll be back this weekend. Call me if you want to hook up.” Peter sounded as friendly as ever. Hesitating for just a moment, Theo shouldered his gym bag and headed on in.
Peter’s smile, reflected in the floor to ceiling gym mirrors, was bright and genuine. He nearly put down the free weights he was using, then reconsidered—Theo saw doubt flash across his face like a windblown rain cloud—continuing again with his routine rather than approaching Theo first.
Theo couldn’t help but feel awkward as he watched the blue-eyed man work through his reps. Taking a deep breath, he walked up to where Peter worked out and casually placed his palms on Peter’s shoulders.
“Drop them a little,” he suggested.
Peter leaned back slightly, the pressure warm and solid against Theo’s hands. He finished his set, smiling.
“I’m sorry,” Theo said. “I only just picked up your message. Are you home for a while?”
Peter took a long, slow drink from his water bottle, throat working and sweat trickling down the tight cords of his neck. When he answered, Theo felt like he needed a drink himself. He’d forgotten how good Peter looked.
“I’m only here for the weekend.” He took another quick drink, looking at Theo in the mirror before saying, “I’m not going to lie, Theo. It would be great to spend some time with you. Nothing heavy; maybe we could watch a game and eat some pizza?” His smile was so warm.
“I’m not sure I can resist your version of ‘nothing heavy,’ Peter.” Theo felt a little dizzy.
“Then don’t.” He winked as he spoke, then added, “I promise I won’t make a move on you unless you ask me to, Theo.” He bent to retrieve his weights while saying, “Go work out. I’ll wait for you.”
By the time they were both done it was late afternoon and starting to sleet outside. Peter paused just inside the gym entrance. Catching Theo’s arm, he pulled him closer as some other patrons rushed in, shaking icy water from their coats.
“I meant it, Theo. I’d love to see you.” Everything about the man was genuine, Theo thought.
“We’ll watch a game?” Peter nodded in agreement. “Come back with me now, then.”
Before he could second-guess himself, Theo ran out to his car, watching in the rearview mirror as Peter climbed into his truck and followed him back to his apartment. As soon as Peter settled in front of the TV, Theo relaxed. With a beer in his hand and a broad smile on his face, Peter looked completely at home. Theo retreated to the kitchen, looking for menus and logging onto his laptop for a second to check his mail. He’d missed some chats while his phone had been switched off at the gym.
MORGAN: I’ve changed my mind again.
MORGAN: I can do that. I’m in touch with my feminine side.
MORGAN: My final decision is….
MORGAN: Kissing.
MORGAN: I’d get up and brush my teeth.
MORGAN: Then I’d kiss.
MORGAN: All morning.
Swallowing, feeling heat creep up his neck, Theo typed quickly.
THEO: Are you STILL thinking about that?
He located the menus, then stepped into the hallway, turning back abruptly as he heard his laptop’s ping.
MORGAN: I haven’t thought about anything else ALL day.
MORGAN: I think we both know who’s to blame.
THEO: All I asked was
THEO: Don’t blame me for your oral fixation.
MORGAN: Did you just say oral?
THEO: Shut up.
MORGAN: Now I’m thinking about your mouth. Do you still have your own teeth?
Theo burst into helpless laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Peter’s voice made Theo jump out of his skin. Turning quickly, he closed the laptop and brandished the menus at the man who leaned against his kitchen doorway.
“Nothing. Just a friend, acting the fool on the Internet.” They walked back to the living room together, discussing pizza toppings and who might win the game. The evening passed quickly, Peter making things easier by keeping to his end of the couch, chatting enthusiastically about his progress at work.
“It’s amazing how teams doing exactly the same job approach things from a different angle. It makes no sense, really. What we do with the same manpower has such a different impact that it really makes you think.”
Theo asked him to clarify a little.
“Take domestic abuse, for example. If it gets bad enough for people to dial 911, that usually means it’s been going on for a while. Statistics show that if victims get attended to here in Seattle, they’ll be seen at least twice more, usually with injuries of increasing severity.” He shook his head. “In other areas, more victims are treated only once. Either those teams are doing a better job of pointing people in the direction of help, or they’re being scared away from asking for help again.”
“Why do people stay in relationships just to get hurt again?” Theo asked.
Peter shrugged. “I can’t even get into that mind-set so I don’t waste time thinking about it. All I know is that if there is some better way of dealing with those calls, I’m going to bring it ba
ck to Seattle. I’ve seen too many battered women.” He sighed, taking another long pull from his beer before adding, “And men.”
Theo had heard that before. He supposed he could see the possibility, but it was so outside his field of experience—his relationship had been a place of safety—that he couldn’t wrap his head around it.
“That’s why I’m back this weekend. I had a chance to catch a few days’ leave before flying out again. I’m going to cover the holidays down in San Francisco. It’s a busy time of year, what with all that stressing over buying gifts or having family to stay. The cracks show quickly.”
It sickened Theo a little to think of kids listening to their parents fight at what was meant to be a peaceful, joyful time of year.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Theo said with admiration. He watched as Peter stretched, his back arching, revealing a glimpse of toned stomach.
He smiled, blue eyes bright, wetting his lips before saying, “I just want to do my job as well as I can.”
Yeah, Theo guessed that life didn’t have to be as complex as he often made it for himself. Sometimes it was as simple as trying to make bad things a little better for people who didn’t have the strength to help themselves.
That was something Morgan was particularly fierce about on the forum, and in their private conversations. He wasn’t a blamer, unless it came to what he called governmental fuckery. No, if someone opened a discussion about a controversial topic like addiction, he would be right there, defending the person at the bottom of the pile. Theo asked him about it after a particularly virulent online argument about addiction being a choice, so undeserving of health-care dollars.
MORGAN: No, I’ve never had addiction issues.
MORGAN: Apart from being addicted to the Internet, but that’s a recent thing.
MORGAN: I blame you.
MORGAN: You enable me.
He’d gone on to explain that, based on his limited experience, people who needed help just needed help. They didn’t need blame or criticism. When you were at the bottom—without work, or a home, or even somewhere to sleep—blame wouldn’t keep you warm, or fed, or alive. Sure, some people were idiots. Yes, some people took advantage of the system, but there had to be a system.
MORGAN: It could happen to anyone.
Theo looked around his living room, full of home comforts, in an apartment that had been fully paid for years earlier than planned due to Ben’s life insurance, and thought to himself that he’d never hit rock bottom like that. Not like one of those people.
MORGAN: Personal crisis just hits people different ways. Anyone can fall into an abusive pattern of behavior. Anyone.
Theo remembered waking up on the couch in the weeks after losing Ben. He’d woken with a hangover and went straight to the kitchen for more beer, then thumped the refrigerator when he discovered there was none left. The fist-shaped dent was still there, fingers clearly outlined—you could even make out his ring in the brushed steel door—but no one had ever asked him about it. Later that day, his mom had just wiped over the dent, pausing momentarily before she threw out his empties.
He hadn’t drunk while alone since then.
MORGAN: Rock bottom might be closer than you imagine. It’s just one drink, one toke, or one punch too many, away.
Peter moved up the couch a little, until they sat next to each other. His hand on Theo’s face was warm—just for a second—before it dropped.
“I want to make the odds better, that’s all. I don’t have an axe to grind about the why or how. I’m just sick of patching up people who don’t need to get hurt.” He swallowed. Theo watched as Peter’s hands gripped his own legs before adding, “Life’s too short, you know?”
Theo knew. He shifted slightly.
Peter shifted too.
Theo could feel Peter’s breath against his neck, hot, damp, and so fucking close. Blood rushed from his head toward his lap, thundering like an internal waterfall weighted with storm water. Shutting his eyes, he leaned his head back against the couch, helpless. When Peter spoke into his ear, he shivered.
“I’m not going to pressure you, Theo. You’ve told me twice that you aren’t ready.” His tongue tip touched the shell of Theo’s ear, lighting an invisible cordite trail linked directly to his cock. Something about Peter sent him from zero to one hundred miles per hour in seconds.
“Yeah, you’ve told me twice, and I have to believe you, even though—” Theo felt a fingertip circle his left nipple, making both of them ache. “—I’m not sure your body believes you. But I want you to listen to me now, Theo. I’m only going to tell you this once.”
Theo opened his eyes, dazed almost to have Peter so close, and hot, and wanting him.
“I want you.” He kissed Theo’s lips impossibly lightly.
“I want this.” He pushed Theo’s head back again and kissed his neck, tongue flicking—rough, wet, rough—over his Adam’s apple.
“I want this.” He pulled up Theo’s shirt and kissed his stomach, dropping featherlight kisses around his navel.
“I want this.” His hand pressing over Theo’s dick made him arch, chasing pressure. “Yeah, that. Just like that,” he added, his voice hoarse.
When he pulled away again, Theo panted, completely breathless, gasping when Peter cupped the side of his face.
“I just had to let you know.” He stood, picking up his jacket from the armchair nearby. “I’ll be back.” He took a breath, scrubbing at his face before adding, “I might not be your ideal man, but I think you might be mine. I don’t know whether it’s guilt that keeps you in the past.” His eyes flickered toward the kitchen. “Or maybe there’s someone else in your life already. I’m a simple kind of guy, and I can only deal with honesty. So this is me, being honest.” He swallowed once, then again.
“I want you.”
Theo watched him shrug, then dip down for another quick kiss.
He didn’t breathe again until he heard the front door close. Later, he lay in bed wondering why he felt so conflicted.
Shouldn’t Peter wanting him be enough?
Chapter 12
THEO decided that his office was a better place with the interns in it. Considering that, on paper at least, Joel and Evan shouldn’t have worked out, both kids were great additions to his team. Originally, they’d been scheduled to finish their internships at the end of October. Everyone was relieved when the Head Office agreed to employ them on temporary, part-time contracts until the end of the year.
That suited the kids just fine, he guessed, spying through his blinds as they opened their letters of confirmation. Joel jumped up, fist pumping wildly, making the office erupt into laughter. Whoever heard of someone so stoked at filing endless paperwork? Evan scrutinized the small print of his contract before raising his head. Theo smiled at the way the blond’s eyes slid across to meet Joel’s.
THEO: They are so sweet, it’s almost unbearable.
MORGAN: I bet they fuck over your desk as soon as you leave every day.
MORGAN: You should set up a webcam.
MORGAN: I could do that for you.
THEO: PERVERT.
THEO: They are just impossibly cute. J especially. He’s like the most adorable puppy on the planet.
MORGAN: I thought you liked E best?
THEO: I like them both. Honestly, the way they act at work is so sweet my teeth might just fall out.
MORGAN: And we’re back to my oral fixation….
It was true, though: The interns were helpful and polite to each other at work—completely professional. The signs were evident that the more space Joel put between them, the closer Evan inched toward him, seeking out his company. Theo was so glad he’d intervened. Given a little space, his smaller intern—the one who carried the heaviest load—was starting to enjoy himself.
“I wasn’t expecting to, but I kind of like working through a list and getting shit done.” Theo shook his head at Evan’s language. He apologized quickly, saying, “Sorry, sorry. You know what I
mean though, right?”
Theo did know exactly what Evan meant. He’d tried to explain his satisfaction at work to some of their friends over the years. Lots of people had a weird—to Theo, anyway—fear of numbers. He just loved them. Plowing through accounts was challenging, as was creating order out of chaos for clients. If he could figure out an easier, more logical way for them to achieve their objectives, then he considered his work valuable.
Some of his friends had graduated from college the same year and were now flying high in their own particular fields. Theo’s lack of ambition baffled them, but he had never needed to chase glory. He had that at home. That’s how he used to feel, anyway. Coming home to Ben’s tetchy eye roll if he had to lean against the buzzer was everything he needed. If life was a competition, he’d won the moment Ben pulled off his motorcycle helmet all those years ago in Milan, saying ciao. He was pretty sure that his focus on the rest of the world shifted at that moment, narrowing until Ben took up his entire lens.
Their life rolled on—parties, vacations, long afternoons in bed—and he simply didn’t need anything else to feel like a winner. Give Theo a column of numbers that added up and a warm Italian to rub his back and cook his dinner, and he was pretty much set for anything. So he nodded at Evan, agreeing that yeah, sometimes the simple pleasures really were the best.
“But you can find the same satisfaction in your own field, Evan. Don’t let the numbers here seduce you if they aren’t your first love.” Without his counterbalance at home, even Theo found work somewhat lacking lately. He talked it out with Morgan.
THEO: I don’t know.
MORGAN: What now, Theo?
MORGAN: Are we going to spend the whole night talking about you again?
MORGAN: Hang on a minute.
THEO: What are you doing?
MORGAN: Loading up some porn. You carry on whining. I’ll catch up later.
THEO: What kind of porn?
MORGAN: The gay kind. What else?
THEO: I was just thinking about work. Maybe it’s time for a change.
MORGAN: Really? How will the world continue turning without your tight grip on the economy?
