by E M Lindsey
James swallowed thickly. “You sure know how to get your way.”
Rowan couldn’t help a small laugh. “I didn’t get my impressive record in court by not being able to deliver on my promises.” He moved from James’ chin to cupping his cheek. “I won’t judge you if you choose not to, either. You know that, right?”
James drew his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down. When he released it, it was wet and plump, and Rowan wanted to taste it. “I want things,” James said. “I really do. I just…don’t know how to let myself.”
Rowan nodded, his thumb brushing the corner of James’ mouth. “Start small, then. Like I said, I’m going to be here a while. Just text me one thing, and we can start from there.”
“Just one?” James asked, like he was waiting for permission.
Rowan nodded. “It can be something as small as, I want you to bite my earlobe when we make out. Or something a little bigger, like, I want you to put your tongue in my asshole and eat me out.”
“Fuck,” James gasped.
Rowan curled his fingers in the front of James’ shirt and pulled him so they were pressed together from chest to groin. “Anything you want. We’ll take it one step at a time until you feel like you’ve gotten everything you need from me.” And saying that last bit was wrenching, because a piece of Rowan didn’t want James to ever be done with him. Less than twenty-four hours and he was addicted.
But all good things ended—whether by choice or by force —there was no forever here. It was a harsh lesson, but Rowan had learned that one years ago.
“Okay,” James said after a long moment. “I can do that.”
“Good.” Rowan pushed up to kiss him once more, then peeled himself away. “I look forward to it. See you tonight, James.”
James nodded, and Rowan turned on his heel, heading to his car without looking back.
Chapter Ten
James walked into the house, unsurprised to find Mat there, his feet up on the coffee table, one of Wyatt’s large books spread out over his legs. James had watched Wyatt read before, the way his fingers flowed over each line like water, and it was nothing like the stuttered, careful pace Mat was using. But it warmed him inside to see the man he considered his best friend with this gift. He had seen how much Mat’s injury wrecked him, how much it had stolen from him. Mat was better now, far from the mess he’d been when he showed up in Fairfield, but there was a haunted look in his eyes from time to time that James hated.
“Hey, man. I wasn’t sure if you were coming back before your appointment.” Mat leaned forward to set the book down, then shifted over as James flopped on the cushion next to him.
“Albert’s at the shop today. He’s got the rest of my shit covered.” James closed his eyes as he leaned back. He wanted to tell Mat everything, wanted to confess that he’d broken through the barrier of his father’s making, but he was still struggling. He hadn’t found peace at the church—nor had he expected to.
He’d heard enough liberal Christians talk about acceptance and love, and how God didn’t hate the gays, but there was always an under-current of malice in those words. Maybe he was just inventing it, maybe it had everything to do with the fact that every time he saw someone sporting a little cross or Jesus tattoo, his heart threatened to choke him, but he couldn’t help it. He’d grown up hated for the person he was, for something he couldn’t change—and holy hell had he tried to change it—but it was hard to wrap his mind around the idea that there could be reconciliation between who he was, and what God wanted from him.
“You feeling okay, man?” Mat asked. “If you need someone to take your appointment…”
“No,” James said. He dropped his hand and pushed himself up slightly with his elbows. “Uh, is Wyatt around?”
“He grabbed an uber to the doctor’s,” Mat said with a shrug. “He’s going to show me braille sheet music when he gets back, but I think he’s gonna be a while. Why, you want me to take off?”
“No,” James said, maybe a little too forcefully. Mat sat up straighter and gave him a concerned look. “It’s nothing,” he hurried to say.
Mat rolled his eyes. “My brain might be half-fucked, but I’m not stupid. What the hell is going on?”
With a groan, James flopped back and scrubbed both hands over his face, then rubbed his palms over where his hair was getting just a bit too long for his liking. “I uh…okay. Fuck. You can’t tell anyone.”
Mat shifted so he was facing James, his arms tight over his chest. “You know me.”
James stared at him a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Okay. So, uh…that night when things went to shit with Niko and Sam? Outside the bar.”
“Yeah,” Mat said slowly. “Sam’s lawyer drove you home, and there was a moment.”
“Okay, fuck you,” James said, but actually did manage a faint smile. “And also I guess I kind of fucked him.”
Mat blinked, and he looked like he was barely holding back a reaction. “You’re not lying.”
“I’m not lying,” James said. “It was…shit, man, I don’t even know. Like, we agreed to hook up. He knew I was a virgin, knew how messed up I am over the whole sex thing. But he was so fucking patient.”
“I don’t want details,” Mat said carefully, “because those are none of my business…but was it at least good?”
“It was so fucking good,” James said. He lowered his voice, feeling on the verge of humiliation, but so relieved he could actually talk about this. “Lord, it was so good, and then I just…that old bastard was just screamin’ in my head, and I was like, I did it. I secured my one-way trip to hell. I started cryin’ like a damn fool right on top of him.”
“Tell me you’re not upset right now because he ghosted you,” Mat said, his voice dangerous and low. “I don’t fucking care if he’s Sam’s lawyer. I will kill him.”
James wanted to hug his friend, just for the sheer fact that Mat was willing to go to war over something as stupid as hurt feelings. He shook his head. “Nah. I uh…so I had this little freak out at work today, told Albert to take care of shit, and went down to Our Lady of Sorrows.”
Mat snorted. “You went to a Catholic church? For what, absolution? Because unless you’re a priest diddling kids, they’re not going to give it to you.”
James felt green around the gills at the truth of Mat’s statement, but he shook his head. “I don’t know, man. I just… needed something. Needed to see if God was gonna strike me down for bein’ a fuckin’ homo. He didn’t, obviously.”
Mat rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”
“So, I was on my knees, prayin’, and suddenly he’s fuckin’ there.” James cleared his throat when his voice got rough. “Rowan’s just there, all scared that I was having some kinda break-down.”
Mat’s face went a little soft, and he reached out, gently clasping James’ shoulder. “Damn, dude. So are you two…”
“We’re not a thing,” James said in a hurry. “He’s not gonna be around after Sam’s case wraps up, and that’s fine. I’m not lookin’ for a husband or any of that shit. I ain’t Derek, you know?”
Mat laughed. “No one is Derek but Derek. I just…” He hesitated, biting his lip. “You’re allowed to be happy, you know that, right? You’re allowed to be gay and be happy. And you’re not going to hell.”
James swallowed thickly. “You don’t know that.”
“No,” Mat conceded. “But if you are, then all of us will follow, and you’ll be in good company. Satan’s got nothing on us.”
In spite of himself, in spite of his very real fear of the eternal, he couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a fuckin’ idiot.”
“Yeah, but you love me.” Mat looked at him another long moment before pulling the book back onto his lap. “You don’t mind if I keep working, do you?”
James couldn’t stop the warm fuzzies as he smiled. “Nah, man. Do your thing. I’m going to lay here until I gotta run. But uh…thanks. For everything.”
Mat just gave him a stiff nod, then
allowed the moment to sink into an easy silence.
* * *
At the sound of the fifth sniffle, James caved and reached for his numbing spray. He was the sort of person who craved the pain when he sat down in the chair. He needed it—needed the way it kept him grounded, the way it brought everything back into perspective when shit felt like it was too far out of control. The woman in his chair, Megan, was not like him, though. She obviously wanted this little piece, but her face had been pink since she sat down, and her fingers were still trembling.
With a bit of paper towel, he wiped her down, then added the spray. She stared at him with wonder, then laughed. “Wow, that actually does work.”
James chuckled, shaking his head as he glanced back to where Sage was watching him with a half-smirk. “Yeah, it does.”
Her hand hovered over her thigh where he was still inking, but before he could tell her not to touch, she dropped it back down. “Why doesn’t everyone use it?”
James turned his machine back on, dipping the needles into the soft yellow, then began to shade the little bee. “Some people like to feel it,” he told her, gently moving her arm to the side so he could change angles. “Some people get inked specifically for the pain.”
“Is that like you?” she asked him.
He glanced up at Megan, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, that’s like me.”
She touched the side of his head where he had black lines, and he flinched before he could stop himself. “Sorry,” she muttered. She looked embarrassed, but more than that, she looked rejected. He tried not to sigh at how often it happened. The job itself was intimate. Sometimes physically. He’d been propositioned more than once when he had his hand cupping someone’s tit, or the side of their ass. But even on something as benign as a thigh, he was all up in their business, leaving permanent marks on their skin.
It was to be expected. Everyone at the shop had warned him back when he was fresh-faced and apprenticing. But it was easy to forget how alone he was when shit like that happened. He’d cultivated such a strong, fake-as-hell reputation, no one ever stepped in to save him when someone got handsy, and he relied on himself every time.
“It’s fine.” He gently returned her to the position he needed, and his hand clutched at the machine so hard, his knuckles started to ache. “Just be careful. I need you to stay still. Any fuck up is basically permanent.”
She paled a bit, then went as stiff as a statue which wasn’t much better than the squirming, but at least her hands were off him. He could feel a couple of the guys behind him watching. Even if he was known as the shop-slut, they were always on high alert for when a customer got to be too much. It was one of the reasons he’d always love them, why he was ride-or-die with these guys no matter what. They might let customers get further with him than they would with Derek or Sam, but they’d step in when it mattered.
Luckily, she was nearly done. He swapped over to grey, putting the finishing touches on the wings, then cleaned her up, sprayed her down, and got her wrapped up. “I’d like to check it in a couple of weeks,” he told her, passing on his card with the aftercare instructions on it. “Once the peeling is done, just to make sure it doesn’t need to be touched up. Call the shop and book another consult.”
She pulled a face. “Do I have to get it touched up?”
“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” he goaded. She hesitated, so he sighed and sat back. “Tell you what, if you can live with it, you don’t have to call, but if you’re unhappy, I’m always here.”
She nodded, staring down at the bright bee under the cling-film, and then looked back at him. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”
“Maybe,” he offered. It was one of the few times he was grateful that tattooing wasn’t his full-time job. His auto shop was out of the way, tucked into a grove of trees, and people only showed up when they needed him. He doubted a little slip of a thing like her with her glass water bottle and new Tesla would ever need a backwoods auto shop. “Take care of that, okay? And anything goes wrong, any one of us can help you out.”
She looked around, her face showing she was slightly intimidated by the inked-up, massive dudes with intense expressions. Clearing her throat, she dug into her bag and handed over a wad of cash. “Thanks. I’ll…see you.”
She was out before he could finish counting, and when the door shut, Sage fell forward with a laugh. “Damn, dude.”
James rolled his eyes as he set aside his stall fee to give to Tony. “I’ve had worse.”
“I know, but she looked like she was about too piss her pants. Poor thing.” Sage sank into his chair and rolled it into the walkway in front of James’ doorway. “Did she tip?”
“Ten bucks,” James said. He was honestly surprised. Most people like her didn’t ever think to do it. He glanced at the clock, then grabbed his spray and towels to clean his shit. His phone was like a shining beacon, sitting on his toolbox. He hadn’t texted Rowan. Yet. He had ideas forming in his mind all damn day, and he felt some measure of guilt for making the guy wait this long, but he wanted to get his thoughts in order.
He was struggling internally with what it meant for his soul, but the rest of him knew he hadn’t been lying when he told Rowan he wanted more. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready to commit to someone—the fear of giving himself to someone else completely felt like he was slowly being choked to death—but the sex? Yeah, he could be okay with that for as long and as often as Rowan was willing.
“You want to do some walk-ins?” Tony asked as he strolled by.
James reached for his cash and handed it over. “Got plans.”
Tony lifted his brows, sharing a look with Sage, but neither of them called him on it as he grabbed his phone. He heard Tony move on to Sage’s stall, and he toyed with the screen, tapping on his message thread.
The last one between him and Rowan was so simple.
Rowan: See you tonight still?
* * *
James: I’ll be there.
He bit his lip as he thought of all the things he wanted to do, all the things he wanted Rowan to do with him. The moment Rowan had mentioned his tongue in James’ ass, it was over for him. He was tired of playing it safe. He wanted more. He wanted everything.
James: I want to know what it’s like inside your ass. And I want to know what it feels like to have something inside mine, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Is that okay?
* * *
Rowan: It’s all okay. I got done early and I’ve been at home. I put a plug in my ass just in case you were willing. It’s been a long day, and I’d like it if you fucked me.
“Jesus,” James swore, sinking down to his chair. He glanced up suddenly, afraid he’d been overheard, but Sage and Tony were still deep in conversation. His dick had immediately sprung to life, and he had to take several breaths and then adjust himself so he could walk out without being obvious. He gathered his things, then slung his bag over his shoulder as he peered over the wall to Sage and Tony. “I’m out. Call if you need anything.”
“Oh, we won’t,” Sage said with a knowing grin.
It was obvious then he hadn’t been as subtle as he was hoping. “I hate you,” he muttered to Tony’s raucous laughter.
Sage smiled wider. “No, you don’t. Also, can I borrow your bike tonight. I want to take my friend out.”
James waved him off as he started for the door. “Y’all know where the keys are. See you.” Then he was out before they could make him feel any worse. His legs ached a bit with how fast he was forcing himself to walk to his truck, but he was given some reprieve as he slid into the driver’s seat and stretched them out alongside the pedal cover.
He hooked his phone up to the USB and fired up the GPS, the sound blaring gently through his speakers as he was directed to the freeway. Pointed toward Denver, he took a moment to gather himself. He was really doing this. He’d gone too far too pull back, and it was all he could do not to imagine what it was going to feel like, sinking his cock into Rowan’s willing ass. Ju
st the thought of Rowan at his apartment with a plug in there was enough to have his head spinning.
He gripped the wheel tightly with one hand, using his other to press harder on the gas. Getting in a wreck would put a damper on things, but it was impossible to slow down now. Damned or not, he wanted this. ‘You’re allowed to be gay and happy.’ Mat’s words echoed through him, and it was a profound moment. Mat—the one straight guy at Irons and Works—had been the first one to point that out. And maybe the others were leading by example. Sam and Niko were figuring things out, Sage was obviously besotted with Will and James could already see their happy ending on the horizon. Tony and Kat—neither of them straight—were blissful in their marriage and raising a gorgeous little girl.
He hadn’t bothered to think that almost all of them were in his same position, and God or the Universe or whatever, hadn’t stopped them from finding love and being content. Hell, if he really thought about it, most of them had been miserable in the years they were denying themselves. Even with Sage losing his fiancé—and James had seen the agony that caused—he had put himself back together and was moving forward.
He was such a fool to think he shouldn’t try. His daddy was still alive, probably waiting for that death bed moment to tell his son what a disappointment he was, but James was still alive too. And he had years ahead of him.
Maybe not with Rowan, but Rowan was proof there could be others. There would be others. And James would never, ever regret what he did in these stolen moments he had with the other man.
Chapter Eleven
Rowan shifted on the sofa, the plug angled just so, so that it brushed along his prostate every time he moved. It was just a graze, nothing like the abuse he wanted to take—hopefully at the end of James’ dick—but it was enough to keep him focused. He needed it. If he let himself stop and think for even a single moment, he was going to fall apart.
