by E M Lindsey
Everything had been going fine until the call came in. The nurse had been sweet, but a little taken aback when Rowan confessed that he had no idea what it was about. “I…sent some papers to your office. It’s nothing complicated, just some official forms regarding your mother’s end of life care.”
It was a miracle he’d taken this call in his apartment and not on the road. As it was, the shock of it was enough to send him reeling back, and he wasn’t quite aware of how he ended up crouched on the floor, his back to his bed frame. His hands were shaking as they clutched his knees, and he took several breaths before he could answer her.
“Right. I…right. Okay.”
“I’m assuming she’s gone over her results with you,” the nurse went on. “Because of the way her lung function has been decreasing, she’s taking the doctor’s advice on giving you power of attorney. I’ll be happy to go over the treatments, as well as the plan to keep her comfortable until she…”
Rowan cleared his throat loudly, interrupting her. “How much time?”
There was a long pause, then the nurse said, “The doctor’s estimating six months with aggressive treatment. COPD is a difficult diagnosis, and sometimes patients respond well and last for years. Sometimes, like in your mother’s case, we see extreme decline. We’re doing everything we can and…”
“No,” Rowan cut in. “I get it. It’s…I’ve been busy with work, so we haven’t had a chance to go over this in detail. I… I’ll be out there soon.”
“Alright, Mr. Balk. Thanks for taking my call.”
“Mm,” Rowan said, because it was all he was really capable of saying right then. The nurse disconnected and he let his hand rest at his side, phone loosely in his palm as he realized this was it. End of life care. There was no coming back from that. And deep down, he’d always known it would be sooner rather than later. Even if he had fallen in love, had kids, done things the family way, it would have never been traditional. His mom’s health had been declining since he was young, and a lot of her choices had set her up for failure.
She had rescued him, then by no fault of her own, abandoned him. It felt like it was coming full circle. He’d left her to pursue bigger and better things, and she was dying, and he wasn’t there.
He sent a text to Jeremy saying they needed to have a meeting, and he decided it was time. He had enough colleagues now he could transfer his cases and their retainers. He’d finish up with Sam now—he could fly back for the adoption hearing—and then…
And then he would call it a day. At least until his mom was…
“Fuck,” he whispered. It was unfair of him to use James like this, but he was desperate for the distraction. The fact that James was willing to come over and give this to him wasn’t comfort enough, but it was something. Rowan wasn’t ready to face the reality of his situation yet. If things were different—if his mom was fine, if it was just a matter of deciding where he was going to work next—he might reconsider. At some point he’d have to allow himself to be happy. He wasn’t single because he preferred it that way, he just never wanted to allow something to get in the way of his work.
But he was older now. Pushing forty, greying, tired, lonely. James was younger, fresh-faced, and so fucking willing it made Rowan want to weep. He was the best thing at the worst time, and Rowan hated the universe a little bit for that.
Before he could spiral too far, his buzzer rang. He jolted, then jumped to his feet and made his way to the door, trying to control the flush on his cheeks from the way the plug brushed his prostate. He took only half a second to picture the way James would feel sliding into his stretched hole, and he adjusted himself before pulling the door open.
James looked edible, as he always did. He was wearing shorts, which showed off his prosthetics. One of them bore an intricate design carved into the foam, the other with black etchings which looked like a blueprint. He glanced up, and James flushed just a bit.
“Mat’s handiwork. He’s obsessed with steam punk designs.” James rubbed the back of his neck like he was nervous, so Rowan stepped aside to let him in.
“I think it’s cool,” he said. “You’re a bit like a walking canvas.”
James chuckled as he turned, giving Rowan a significant look. “We call people like you a blank canvas.”
Rowan’s eyebrows lifted as he gestured toward the living room. “People like me?”
Bolder than he had been at their last encounter, James approached him instead of walking to the sofa. He laid his hand on the top of Rowan’s shoulder, and let his thumb trace a line along the exposed side of his neck. “People without ink. A blank canvas.”
Rowan bit down on his lower lip as he leaned into the touch, desperate to feel it, wanting to be pulled away from the reality of his life and into the chaotic, unpracticed pleasure James could give him. Rowan suddenly loved that James hadn’t done this with anyone else. Every sensation, every new step, was for Rowan alone. It made him a little power hungry in a way he’d never experienced before.
He turned toward James, taking him by the waist as he stepped in to press their bodies together. “Take your hand and put it down the back of my pants.”
James looked vaguely startled, and a little hesitant, but he did as he was asked. His fingers struggled a little to get past the tight waist, everything about him just slightly bigger than Rowan, but he managed it. His hand flattened, then cupped Rowan’s left cheek. “Like this?”
“I want you to touch me. Touch my hole,” Rowan said.
James jolted, his eyes fluttering closed, but he curled his hand into a fist save for two fingers, then he dragged them down from the top of Rowan’s crack. He startled when he hit the plug, and Rowan couldn’t help his moan as it jostled inside of him. His hips thrust out against James without meaning to.
“What is this?” James murmured.
“I cleaned myself out, filled myself with lube, and plugged myself up. For you,” he added softly.
James’ head fell forward, forehead landing on Rowan’s collarbone, and he breathed in deep. “I…I’m not sure what to say.”
“Well, I’m hoping you’ll say you’re eager to take the plug out and put your cock in there,” Rowan said, just a hint of a laugh in his tone.
James snorted. “That’s one way to put it. I think I’m going to disappoint you, though. I’m probably going to shoot off the second I’m inside you.”
“That’s okay,” Rowan said. He eased James back a few inches, then cupped one of his cheeks. “I have all night.” He leaned in and their lips met, parted and eager. James’ tongue slipped in first, a little too wet and forceful, but Rowan didn’t much care then. He wanted to be overwhelmed by this man. When they broke apart, Rowan was breathing slightly heavier, and he clutched at James’ hips like a lifeline. James was still gently playing with the plug, an absent movement that sent little jolts of pleasure through Rowan, his eyes closed. “Do you want to eat and relax first?”
“I think if I don’t get this first part over with, I’m gonna lose my nerve,” he admitted. He looked up, his expression a little sheepish. “I know that ain’t romantic.”
“I’m not looking to be romanced right now. I’m looking to be fucked,” Rowan said. He carefully eased away from James’ hands, feeling a little bereft at the loss, but it was necessary for the moment.
He led the way down the little hallway, into his bedroom. It was smaller than James’, but a little more tidy and utilitarian. When Rowan had been taken from his home, he’d stopped connecting with things. He possessed exactly what he needed to get from day to day, and the most he carried with him were a handful of photographs from when he was young. Right now, his room was nothing more than a bed on a metal frame, a plush duvet, and a dresser. He didn’t hang art, kept the cheap venetian blinds that had come with the condo, and he didn’t even remember where his throw-rug had come from.
James didn’t seem to care much about any of that. His eyes were fixed on the pillow where Rowan had left lube, a box of condom
s, and his medium sized, peach-colored dildo. “Is that,” James said, then cleared his throat. “You want us to use all that tonight?”
Rowan almost laughed, because that was the bare basics of things he liked to play with on a casual night, but for James, he knew it was as overwhelming as stepping into his first sex shop. Which, he lamented, was probably something he wouldn’t get the chance to do with him, depending on when he’d need to leave. He pushed the thought out of his head as he turned to face James again.
“I was tested about a month and a half ago—negative, but condoms help with the mess,” he said. “Lube is a must, no questions asked, and the dildo…was a suggestion. For later,” he added. He reached out and flicked open the button on James’ shorts, eyes fixed on where James’ erection was straining against the zipper. “Do you want to undress me?”
James swallowed thickly, then nodded. “More’n anythin’,” he drawled.
Rowan got a particular surge of triumph when he could make James forget himself, draw out that accent, thicken his tongue with want. He spread his arms, letting James’ trembling hands unbutton his shirt, dragging it over his arms, pooling it on the floor at their feet. He gave only the bare minimum help as he stepped out of his trousers, and his dick gave a firm twitch as James’ palms slid down his thighs as he dragged Rowan’s boxers off.
Instead of rising to his feet, James eased all the way down to his knees and stared first at the cock, erect and dripping just inches from his face. Then he tilted his head all the way up to look at Rowan’s face. “You’re beautiful.”
Rowan swallowed thickly. James was still dressed, t-shirt and shorts, cock tenting the front. He saw the way the tops of James’ thighs trembled, and he knew the position was probably unbearable for him. “Do you want to stand up?”
James shook his head. “Can I…?” He curled his hands around Rowan’s ankles before spreading his fingers and dragging his palms upward.
“I told you before,” Rowan said, “you can do anything you want to me.”
James made a soft noise in the back of his throat. He lifted up to his knees, adjusting his legs before grabbing Rowan by the hips. He was so damn tall, his face came almost to Rowan’s chest, but he ducked low and buried his face in his forest of pubic hair. Rowan could feel him suck in a breath, then felt the tentative touch of a tongue—warm and wet—at the base of his dick.
“Shit,” he groaned. His ass clenched around the plug, and he curled his hands into fists to keep himself from trying to rush this.
James hummed, an almost curious noise. His hand reached between Rowan’s legs, stretching to touch the plug, then dragging two fingers forward until they pressed just behind his balls. Rowan’s entire body twitched, and another moan escaped him.
James shot him a bold grin before he pushed Rowan’s cock out of the way, then put his mouth to Rowan’s left testicle. Rowan was tense, a little afraid. Someone like James with no experience was a risk, and Rowan liked some pain, but he didn’t want to be brought to his knees by it.
James, however, was more than delicate. His mouth was so soft it almost hurt, and Rowan was on the verge of begging him to be rougher. James didn’t linger, though. He let the sac slip from his mouth, licking his lips, brows furrowed. “I don’t really know what I was expecting.”
Rowan offered a hand down, and James levered himself to stand, wobbling a bit as he regained his balance. “Was it bad?”
James shook his head, reaching for Rowan, digging fingertips into his waist. “You tasted clean.”
“I showered,” Rowan told him before surging up to take another kiss.
James chuckled into it as he allowed Rowan to walk him backward, careful and easy, until they met the resistance of the bed. James broke the kiss with a wet pop, licking his lips as he dragged his hands to Rowan’s nipples, the pad of his thumbs circling until they formed tight peaks.
“Let me undress you,” Rowan said. His hand moved to the hem of James’ shirt, and his eyes stared down at James’ legs. “Completely.”
He felt James heat under his hand, saw the hesitation in his eyes, but eventually the younger man nodded. “Okay.”
Rowan didn’t bother with patience or finesse as he dragged James’ clothes off, then urged him to sit as he knelt between his legs. He’d done kneeling in his past—not really his thing before, but it felt strangely comfortable now. His hands touched the top of James’ sockets. “How do I…?”
James took Rowan’s hands, guiding his fingers to a small divot in the side. “Just push here. Releases the suction.”
Rowan took over when James moved his hand away. It wasn’t just a simple button. There were layers underneath before he finally got to bare skin, and maybe it was just having been so caught up in the moment before, but he hadn’t noticed the ink on James’ legs until right then.
He couldn’t help but touch it, the pads of his fingers tracing the shaded bolts and sockets, the way it was imbedded in his skin with shadows that looked like his flesh had been ripped away to reveal gears and mechanics to make him go.
He glanced up to see James, propped up on his elbows, watching him. Rowan lowered his face, dragging open mouthed kisses along the ink before pushing forward between his thighs. “Who did this?”
“The ink?” James asked, his voice a little rough. He reached out, tracing his thumb over Rowan’s lower lip. “Tony started them. I was in a dark place for a while, when I first got here. We met when I was gettin’ my shop set up, and he said he’d been in a real bad place in his life, and the pain helped him. Thought I’d give it a try.”
“Did it work?” Rowan asked.
James chuckled, gesturing to his left arm where it was sleeved with the same grey colors. “Sometimes. Sometimes there just ain’t no cure for the pain inside you, but when you give yourself something tangible to hold on to…”
Rowan squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed by a reality that he didn’t want in that moment. He didn’t look up until James touched his chin. “Sorry,” he choked out.
James shook his head. “Don’t. You got nothing to apologize for, darlin’. We can talk if you want, or we can get to other things.”
Rowan’s laugh was a little wet, but he surged up and urged James further back on the bed. Their lips met in a near frenzy, Rowan letting the feeling of James’ hands take over, dragging him to a headspace that made everything else seem so damn far away.
“I want to ride you,” Rowan murmured against James’ lips. “Can I?”
“Hell yes,” James said. His hands flew to Rowan’s waist, and his hips gave a couple of ineffectual thrusts against his stomach.
Rowan loved the feeling of James’ cock, hard and leaking, the tip pushing through his foreskin. He reached between them and took the length in his hand, giving it a slow stroke.
“You have a gorgeous dick.”
“Well it’s about to be a spent dick if you’re not careful,” James cautioned, putting his hand over Rowan’s. “I still can’t seem to control myself when you touch me.”
“It’s okay,” Rowan said, though he drew his hand away. “I’ve been on the edge all damn day thinking about you.”
James fell back against the pillows with a soft groan, and he squirmed as Rowan straddled him properly, then reached for the lube. “What do I do?” he asked.
“Do what feels good,” Rowan told him simply. He took James’ hand and poured a generous dollop over his two fingers. “Pull the plug out and put those inside me.” He leaned forward to give James better access, and he sucked in a breath when he felt James’ left hand dig at the plug, gently removing it with a squelch. Lube, warmed from his body, dribbled down behind his balls, along the insides of his thighs, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck, I want you.”
“I got you, sweetheart,” James murmured. He carefully pushed two fingers inside, and Rowan felt his ass immediately constrict around them. “I got you,” James said again, but Rowan was pretty sure he was talking to himself that time.
; Rowan didn’t stay still long. As James began tentative thrusts with his hand, Rowan met him with firm movements of his hips. His ass slapped wet and slick against James’ palm, and he felt himself get closer than he expected so fast.
“I need,” James groaned.
“Yes.” Rowan reached over, scrabbling for the condoms, and he let out a quiet moan of frustration when James’ hand slipped out of him and fell to the bed. He didn’t want to be empty, didn’t want space to think. He wanted to be full of this man in any way he was allowed. He sat back on James’ thighs, quickly rolling the condom on, then coated him with more lube. “Okay?”
James frowned, then pushed onto his elbows. “Can I sit up a bit. I want…” He stopped with a blush.
Rowan touched his cheek, drawing his attention back. “Tell me.”
“I want to be able to hold you,” James admitted.
Rowan’s entire body shivered with how fucking much he wanted that. He helped James sit up, his back against the headboard with pillows to support him. Carefully shifting up, he leaned back until he felt the wet press of James’ cock brush his hole, and he let out a sharp breath of air, his head tipping forward.
He’d wanted this for hours now, had fantasized about every way it could possibly feel, and all of them paled in comparison to the sensation of James’ throbbing dick behind him. He cleared his throat, then looked up into James’ dark eyes. “Ready?”
James reached for Rowan’s hips, his legs spreading a little wider. “As I’ll ever be. Just promise you won’t hate me if I can’t last longer’n’a minute.”
Rowan chuckled and leaned in to nip at his lower lip, soothing it with a swipe of his tongue. “Never. We’ve got a dildo, and you’re so good with your hands. I don’t think for a moment this will end with me unsatisfied.”
“Shit,” James breathed out. He reached around Rowan to press at his still-open pucker, then grabbed his dick and guided it in. Rowan did most of the work, lifting his hips, lining himself up as James held himself steady. He didn’t love the feeling of the condom between them, mostly because he was craving the feeling of bare skin, but they didn’t have time to build up that trust.
