by Anna Zabo
Lavi jumped up onto the desk and peered out the window. Justin scratched between his ears. “I’ll let you come up here, buddy.” That tumble in his stomach wasn’t terror, but anticipation.
He returned to the stairwell and joined Eli, sitting next to him. “Thank you.”
“You’re—”
Justin kissed him. Not hard, but enough to shut him up. Eli cupped his neck, his warm fingers raising goose bumps on Justin’s arm.
Justin broke the kiss. “Please don’t give up on me.”
“I won’t,” Eli murmured. “If you won’t, I won’t.” He stroked Justin’s hair.
“Deal.” He wasn’t sure what Eli meant, but he wouldn’t give up on himself and he wouldn’t give up on Eli, either.
Chapter Nineteen
By the time evening rolled around, the roads were free of snow and even dry. Eli glanced out of the front window. Pity. Justin’s company had been delightful. Still, he understood the need to go home. Reevaluate. So much had happened in so short a span of time. Maybe that’s good. You think too much.
Justin stood in the foyer, his suit packed in a garment bag. He’d changed the sweats for an older pair of Eli’s jeans, cuffs rolled up, and a sweatshirt. The coat and gloves were Eli’s, too. The least he could do. Justin had likely saved his life last night, if not his sanity. “Ready?”
“Yes.” Eli buttoned his coat, gripped his keys, and fought the twisting in his gut.
When they reached the car, he hesitated. Icy roads, the lurch of spinning.
“I can drive,” Justin said. “If you need me to.”
He sucked in a lungful of cold air and opened the door. “When was the last time you’ve driven in this kind of weather?”
Justin’s expression answered that question, even before he spoke. “Never.”
Not surprising, what with growing up partly in the South and working in California. “Well, then.” Eli dropped into the driver’s seat. Justin sat in the passenger’s seat. “I do need to do this. It’s a control thing.”
“Imagine that.” Deadpanned, but with the smirk that made Eli want to bend Justin over his knee.
Perhaps someday soon, once they both settled a bit. In the meantime . . . “Two, Mr. White.”
“Promise?” Justin’s voice turned gravelly.
“If you’re willing. And when I decide.” He turned over the car and backed out.
A quick smile from Justin. “Good.”
Fear lurked at the thought of resuming that part of their relationship. The sight of Justin leaving haunted Eli, not like the accident, but still. Like driving on icy roads, he’d take it slow.
Eli forced himself to relax. Navigating to Oakland on dry tarmac, even in the dark, wasn’t troublesome. As minutes ticked by, his muscles loosened. By the time they pulled in front of the row house that contained Justin’s basement apartment, his heart beat at a normal rate and his palms weren’t even sweaty.
Excellent.
“You memorized my address?” Justin’s voice rose at the end of his question. He unclipped his belt.
Not so excellent, that. “No, just recognized it. My first place was two doors up. Also a basement apartment.” That had been hell—and heaven. Moving into a shitty apartment, away from everything he’d known, changing his culture, practically overnight. But the freedom . . .
Justin stared at him. “You lived here? Why?”
“It was dirt cheap and close to campus?”
“But—” Justin bit his lip. “You didn’t want to spend the money.”
Eli released his seat belt. “When every penny feels like death? I didn’t want to touch the money. I got a job on campus and this was what I could afford.”
Justin opened the car door and climbed out. “Maybe,” he said, “we should have talked more.”
“Probably.” He was wretched with that kind of thing, though. He followed Justin down the snow-covered back stairs, bracing himself with his cane. “But I never know when I’m oversharing once I get started. Michael threatened to gag me once when I started detailing my class schedule to him.”
Justin fished out his keys and unlocked the door. “Did he? Gag you?” A flush on Justin’s cheeks.
Interesting. Turned on at the thought of a gag, or at the thought of Eli gagged? He didn’t answer but followed Justin into the apartment instead.
A moment later, Eli fought every instinct to drag Justin back out. The apartment—if you could call it that—was cold, dark even with the lights on, and smelled of mold and mildew. His skin crawled, but he kept silent. Justin needed the same freedom he’d required all those years ago.
His expression must have been readable, though. He’d never mastered a decent poker face.
“You’re not happy.” Justin hung up the suit on the back of a door—probably to the bathroom. There wasn’t anything else it could have been. Justin shoved his hands into the pocket of the coat. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
Yes, it was. A ring of mold lined the baseboard of the walls. “They never cleaned up after the water leak, did they?”
Justin twitched. “Um, they haven’t finished repairing that yet.”
Fuck. No wonder it was cold. Eli fiddled with his keys. “I . . . This isn’t good, Justin. Not for your health.” Or sanity. Maybe they should get in touch with Sam. He and Michael had a spare room and— He stopped himself. No. Eli took a breath. “Call me if you change your mind about staying here?”
Justin scratched his neck. “I do need to find something better, I know. But my budget . . .”
Now, there was something he could help with. “You know, I’m pretty decent when it comes to finances and getting the most out of a dollar. Perhaps I can help there?”
A smile curved onto Justin’s lips. “I’m not the best with my own money. I’ll probably take you up on that offer.”
Good. That took the edge off the desire to remove Justin from this place. Eli stepped forward and tipped Justin’s chin up. “I should go.” He stole a quick kiss and let go, but Justin didn’t and then kissed him back, harder and longer.
When Justin broke the kiss, he dug his fingers into Eli’s arms. “I’m afraid when you walk out, you’ll realize how awful I’ve been and never want to see me again.”
Yes, it had been bad. But— “I understand, Justin. I really do.” He blinked a few times to keep his vision clear as his mind clambered for purchase. “One of these days, you’ll figure out that I’m a monster and—” Leave. Run. That had happened once already.
“You’re not a monster,” Justin said. “I know that now.”
If only the voice in his head agreed. “And you’re not awful.” He touched his forehead to Justin’s. “You’re just a brat.”
That got him a laugh. Justin loosened his grip. “Well, you have a solution for that.”
Eli cupped Justin’s chin and stroked his jaw. “I do, indeed.” His tremble under Eli’s touch sent a shiver of delight to Eli’s core. “Don’t you forget it.”
“I won’t.”
The world clicked back into place. The apartment was a horror, they were both a bit fractured, but everything was right. Eli stepped back. “I’ll see you in the office tomorrow. Call if you want a ride and we can rescue your bike.”
“Yeah. That sounds good.” Justin looked lost, but also determined. “Tomorrow.”
It took effort to turn, to walk away, but Eli managed. His fingers shook a bit against the wheel as he drove back home, and the house felt big and empty. But Lavi was there, all purrs and demanding meows, and the couch was still comfortable.
Eli made himself a cup of valerian root tea, lay down on the couch, let Lavi crawl up onto his chest, and closed his eyes.
Usually he despised winter. He might change his mind about this one. Time would tell.
* * *
Monday morning, Justin melted against the passenger seat of Eli’s car. “Oh God, you turned the warmer on.”
“I thought you might appreciate it.” Eli waited until Justi
n had clipped his belt before pulling out from the curb.
“You have no idea. It’s freezing in there.” He stretched his fingers out in front of the vents.
Eli bit his tongue to keep from speaking. Still not the time or the place to harp on Justin’s living conditions. He thought about finding landlord’s name and calling around until the situation got fixed, but Justin would resent that. He was a grown man, after all.
And Eli didn’t own him. Just wanted to protect him, which had its own pitfalls. He tightened his grip on the wheel.
“I know. You don’t like it.” Justin dropped his hands to his lap. “It is hideous in there.”
“But it’s yours,” Eli said. Anything more would be too much. His chest hurt from conflicting desires. Rescue Justin. Let him be. The second was the correct choice, whether Eli liked it or not.
“Except it’s not mine, it’s the landlord’s, and he doesn’t give a shit.” Justin ran a hand through his hair. “I needed space, but . . .” He trailed off and glanced out the window.
“Sam and Michael have a roo—”
“No. If I’m going to move in with someone, it’ll be you or no one.”
For a moment the world stopped, then Eli hit the brakes to not ram the car in front of them. Thank goodness they were nearly there. His breath was gone and his limbs tingled to his feet and hands.
No idea what he looked like, but whatever his expression, it caused Justin to chuckle. “I’m not ready to move in, don’t you fear.”
“It’s not fear.” He found a snow-free parking spot near the office—one without a chair stuck in the middle of it—and pulled in. Fear didn’t taste like light and laughter and woodsmoke in the air. Fear was a bitter, awful thing.
Justin grinned. “Could have fooled me.” He unbelted and got out of the car.
Eli followed and they walked in silence up the street. So many words in his head, so many plans and ideas, all the things he wanted to tell Justin. Hopes he wanted to unbox, shake out, and share.
Everything was so raw. So new. “Would you like dinner tonight? Maybe order a pizza?”
Justin blew out a puff of air, passed the office door, and pulled open the one to Grounds N’at. “I have class tonight.”
Right. Monday. Eli shook his head ruefully and entered the warm shop behind Justin. “I forgot.”
“Well, I’m going to have to bum a ride to campus and back from someone. Maybe we can pick a pie up on the way home?”
The world stuttered again, tripping over the word Justin had mouthed. Home. “Sure. We can do that.” Though his heart beat double-time, Eli ordered coffee anyway. Home continued to rattle in his head while they waited for Brian to make their drinks. When Justin took his hand, the word lodged itself in his throat.
He needed to be careful. They both did, but he had no way to ask Justin to slow down. Nor did he want to.
Two coffees and a flight of stairs later, they walked into the office and split only when they had to go separate ways to reach their desks.
Eli shed his outerwear and stared at his desk. Friday, he had loathed being here. Saturday, he’d vowed to quit. And now? Everything had changed.
Well, not everything. He wasn’t at all surprised to hear his door click closed. The only question was whether it was Sam leaning against the wood surface—or Michael.
He turned and found Sam.
“Please tell me I’m not losing either of you.”
“You’re not losing either of us.” Eli sat down in his chair. “But it was a near thing.”
“I know.” Sam leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes. “Now tell me we won’t be going through this again in a couple of months.”
“I don’t think so. We’re . . . We understand each other better now.” He paused. “You were right about past trauma.”
Sam blinked his eyes open. “Figured I might be. Not like I have any experience with that.”
Sam’s own past had nearly kept him apart from Michael. “We’re going to take things slower. We both took so much for granted, and I should have noticed—”
“You’re not a mind reader, E.”
Eli fought with the idea, but Sam was right. “I know.”
“Good. ’Cause if you start with the ‘Doms know everything’ shit, I will kick your ass.”
Warmth touched Eli’s face. He was, on occasion, guilty of that line of thought. “I suspect Justin might get there first.”
“As he should.” Sam pushed himself off the door, and opened it. “You two really are ideal for each other.” A moment later, he disappeared into his office.
Justin must have heard Sam’s last words, because he sat openmouthed and ruddy-faced at his desk. Eli enjoyed that sight before waking up his computer. If he was going to stay at this job—which he was—he had quite a lot of work to do.
Chapter Twenty
Eli’s attic was a paradise compared to the shitty basement apartment. Now it felt like heaven. Justin stared at the computer screen. Done. His group had finished their capstone project.
Well, at least until the committee looked at it. But for now? It was complete and entirely cleaned up. Ready to be turned in. He closed his eyes and waited for the heady vertigo to stop. So many hours, so much research, so many arguments, negotiations. He croaked out something that felt both like a laugh and a sob as his head tried to touch the clouds that floated somewhere above the roof in the icy January air.
Celebration time. Justin flicked his eyes open and pushed away from the desk. More and more of his belongings dotted the room. Books, art that had escaped the flood. A photo of Mercy. Sometimes he even slept here, especially on nights Eli tossed and turned due to his leg. Or he did, due to nightmares.
Most of the time, he woke in Eli’s bed.
They ought to get the rest of the stuff from the Oakland apartment. It had been almost a week since he’d gone there. All his mail came here now.
Time to admit he’d moved in with Eli. Justin eyed his laptop. Ends and beginnings. He stood and headed downstairs.
One of the best things about living with Eli was learning his little quirks, from the annoying—he squeezed the toothpaste from the center of the tube—to the endearing. On the weekends, Eli read in the afternoons, usually some history book or another. Except Eli’s reading always turned into a nap on the couch, book splayed out at his side and Lavi curled up on his chest.
Like everything Eli did, he slept with intensity, so Justin could sneak up on him, even when walking down two flights of stairs in a creaky older house. Justin took a seat next to Eli’s sock-covered feet.
No reaction whatsoever from Eli. Lavi, however eyed him though half-open lids.
“Sorry, bud. You’re not gonna like the way I wake your dad.”
The cat rotated an ear backward.
Justin ran his finger, nail first, up the inside of Eli’s right foot.
Eli arched his back and practically levitated into the air. Lavi took off, clearing the coffee table in a blur of white-and-black fur, and the book by Eli’s side hit the floor with an audible thump.
Nice. Very nice.
“Justin!” Eli’s voice pitched about an octave higher than normal, his eyes wide, and so far from his unflappable demeanor. Justin grinned. That was one of the delights of this round of dating—seeing behind Eli’s mask.
Eli grabbed Justin’s shirt and dragged him forward. “You little . . . fuck!” He gulped air.
Justin giggled.
“You’re so asking for it!” A mixture of surprise and annoyance, in Eli, but also a hint of joy.
“Yeah,” Justin said. “I am.” He shifted enough to press his hardening length against Eli’s thigh.
Eli loosened his grip. “So you are.” His voice fell back into his normal range and he pressed up against Justin. “But just what are you asking for?”
“Anything you’d like.” They hadn’t set foot in the playroom since the day Justin had walked out. Not together, anyway. Sometimes Justin walked in when
Eli wasn’t home, to look and remember. He wanted that again. Eli’s punishment. The pain and oblivion. The joy.
Eli stroked his cheek. “You’re going to need to be more specific.”
He couldn’t say it yet. “What number am I up to?”
Eli’s focus turned inward for a moment. “Seven. After that little maneuver?” He refocused. “Ten or eleven. I haven’t decided just how upset I am yet.”
Eleven, hopefully. Justin’s heart sped up. “I want that.” Eli had to understand what Justin meant.
Fingers grazed Justin’s lips. “Want what?”
Same conversation as always. Justin laid his head against Eli’s chest. “You know. You’ve known.”
“I do.” Eli stroked his hair. “But I want you to say it. Words have power.”
Like safewords. The echo of his own voice sounded in his mind.
This had to end. He’d finished his capstone. He was going to move in. If he couldn’t ask now, then when?
“I want you to whip me. Or cane me. Or both. I want you to tie me up and—” He pushed himself up. “I want you to punish me.”
Eli raised a brow. “Punish you for what?”
“For leaving you.” He’d planned to say For waking you, but the truth slipped out.
Eli’s expression softened. “Oh, Just.” A whisper of words. “I’m not mad at you for that.”
“I know you’re not.” His throat tightened. “But I’m mad at me. And I need . . .” No more words came. He could only search Eli’s face and hope he understood.
It wasn’t right, this need. Hell, his therapist told him none of what had happened was his fault. But he’d feel a lot better if he could get the guilt out of his head.
Or could drown it out—drown Francis out—with pain and joy and Eli’s approval. Their pleasure.
In the soft voice Eli used when he whispered I love you when he thought Justin was asleep, Eli spoke. “Then eleven it is, Mr. White.”
He melted into Eli’s arms. “I love you, too.”
