by E M Lindsey
He was gay, he still believed in God—at least, some form of Him—and he was okay. That was the best part of it all. He was okay.
“You’re smiling,” Mat pointed out after Will dropped off their food.
James picked up his sandwich, then turned his grin on his best friend. “Just realized somethin’.”
Mat raised his brows. “Care to share with the class?”
James shrugged. “Realized I don’t owe nobody nothin’. Realized whatever I am—whoever I am—I’m gonna be alright.”
At that, Mat grinned back.
* * *
James heard the little bell at the front of the shop, annoyed that Mike hadn’t locked up before taking off. The guy was a good apprentice at the shop, but a little one-track minded. He had a date that night, and had been chomping at the bit to leave early until James got tired and sent him home to shower up and get ready.
In the winter, James closed up the shop quite often, but there had been a string of accidents on the freeway and people needed repairs. Since Irons and Works was always slow in the winter months as well, he tried to split his time evenly, and it wasn’t a hardship to hang out in the garage all day and tinker with Sage’s new bike.
It was well past five though, and he braced himself to tell the newcomer that he wouldn’t be taking any new cars in, when he came to a skidding halt. His mouth dropped at the sight of the one man he’d wanted to see for weeks, and his heart began to thud so hard, he was dizzy with it.
“I…”
Rowan stood there, looking a little sheepish and unsure, but he was smiling all the same. It was the man James was fairly sure was never coming back—the man who hadn’t made any real promises, though his body had told James every time they touched that he was in love. It was just hard to believe it with so much separation until he came to grips with the fact that Rowan was right here.
“What…”
Rowan let out a tiny laugh at both their inability to speak a full sentence. “Closed on my mom’s house today. I…I thought I should call, but then I realized I was too afraid to hear a rejection over the phone. I needed to see you when I asked if you still…”
“Shut up,” James said, then flushed because it wasn’t what he meant to say. He tripped a little, catching himself on the counter, and saw Rowan had darted forward a few feet with his hands outstretched. James flushed, but managed to throw the swinging door open and get through, catching Rowan in his arms when the other man finally closed the distance between them. “It wasn’t even a question,” he murmured against Rowan’s frantic mouth.
Rowan pulled back like it was a struggle to do so, and he cupped James’ cheeks between both hands. “It was a question. So much shit hit me after you left, and I knew I should have done better—called more. Called at all,” he added with a bitter laugh.
James shook his head, leaning in to nuzzle their noses together. “I understood.”
“I know, which is why I’m here,” Rowan said. “I’ve done a lot over the years, and there’s so fucking much more to be done, but I don’t have to be elsewhere. I can make a difference and make a home with you at the same time. Here.”
James let out a laugh, which came out like a half-sob, and he kissed him again. “You’re staying?”
“I’m staying,” Rowan said.
And then there wasn’t talking for a while.
* * *
Rowan stepped out of James’ shower, swiping the towel over his arms and realizing there was still some grease there. It had been a dirty fantasy of his—literally—to fuck James on his desk, but he hadn’t realized the consequences until he saw himself in the mirror later.
James laughed himself to tears, then led the way back to his place where they fucked again, then finally showered. James had finished a little quicker, leaving Rowan to slough off both grease and the awful smell from the plane, while he threw something together for dinner. It felt good to relax under the spray at James’, and for the first time, Rowan realized that he was allowed to get used to this. That he would be getting used to this.
It wasn’t a one-and-done. He had no plans—at least, none that would take him away from James. This was it, it was solid. He wanted to be there, and James wanted him to stay. The rest would come however it did, and he’d work that around the roots he was planting.
With a sigh, he slipped into lounge pants and a t-shirt, loving the way the floor was warm beneath his bare feet. He hung the towel, then stepped into the bedroom and found James lounging on the bed. His legs were off, his right stump crossed over his left knee, a tray of sandwiches at the foot of the bed.
Rowan had been hungry, but at the sight of James there sleepy and soft, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms and stay there. He carefully avoided the food, sliding up to James’ side, and pressed his face into the crook of his neck.
“You smell nice, darlin’,” James said.
Rowan snorted. “I smell like you.”
“I stand by what I said.” James grinned, reaching to tilt Rowan’s head up so he could kiss the tip of his nose. “How was the shower?”
Rowan sighed. “I couldn’t get all the grease off my arm, but it was worth it.”
At the sight of James’ feral grin, Rowan smacked his side, though he burrowed even closer. “I’ve got some orange shit that’ll get it off later.” He reached for Rowan’s hand, pressing their palms together. “You hungry?”
“In a bit,” Rowan said. Mostly, he just wanted to bask. He’d spent the last four weeks dealing with his mom’s estate, trying his best to get the house sold. Rob had pulled through, selling the house to a newly married couple with a paraplegic husband who was thrilled with all the built-in accessible features. Rowan let Rob drop the price as far down as he needed to—it wasn’t like Rowan needed the cash—and he was happy to sign on the dotted line.
He’d been halfway through packing up his mom’s things when Marie’s daughter showed up, and though he’d half been expecting her, it was still hard to see the woman who looked just like Marie in ways he never would. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but she’d been sweet. She’d had a falling out with her parents years back, and was just looking for where she’d come from.
“When her attorney told me about you,” she’d told him the first day, over tea in the living room, “I was kind of angry. I mean, I wanted to know why she’d thrown me to the wolves, then had gone out of her way to try and adopt you.”
Rowan’s throat went tight, too afraid to tell her he knew the reason why. No one really wanted to know that their biological father was a monster, and he didn’t want to be the one to break that to her. “I’m sorry.”
Anna shook her head. “After I really thought about it, it made sense. I mean, Rob didn’t tell me a lot about your situation…”
“It was bad,” Rowan told her. “Marie was my mom’s cousin, and probably the only reason I survived. My mom was an addict, died when I was six, and no one else in the family wanted to step up and help out.”
Her eyebrows dipped. “They’ve all been so nice to me.”
He couldn’t help a bitter laugh. “I don’t doubt it. But when Marie got sick—and I mean really sick—no one ever came out to see her. She lost the use of her legs when I was a kid, and no one stepped in to see if she needed help. When CPS dragged me out of the house because they deemed her disability unfit for parenting—nothing. Not a word. So you’ll have to forgive me if I’m not overly encouraging of fostering new relationships with them.”
Her smile was small and a little sad. “Well, if it helps, my adoptive family was the same. They didn’t love that I came out as gay.”
Rowan laughed. “The one thing this family doesn’t give a shit about anymore. I came out as bisexual pretty young, and they still love me… now that I make money, but before…” He trailed off with a shrug. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
Anna sighed, sipping her tea before she answered him. “It’s okay. My girlfriend is really nice. It’
s all still pretty new for me, and I’m trying to figure it all out, but she helps. My daughter loves her. One of the reasons I was hoping to meet my bio-mom was for her.”
Rowan felt his stomach twist. “For what it’s worth,” he said after a beat, “she would have loved to know her. She had a lot of love in her.”
Anna looked down at her hands. “I want to believe you, but she didn’t tell you I even existed.”
Rowan did his best not to flinch. “She had her reasons.” He wasn’t willing to tell her outright about the trial, but the stuff he planned to give Anna would show everything. Rowan was just glad he didn’t have to be there for it, and he was glad Anna wouldn’t be dealing with it alone.
“Either way, I’m grateful for anything you’ve got. My girlfriend has been my rock through this, and she’s going to help me sort through it all,” Anna eventually said.
“That’s all you can hope for,” Rowan said, and his mind had gone straight to James.
“Are you married or…anything?”
“My boyfriend lives in Colorado,” he said, the word ‘boyfriend’ almost tripping over his tongue, mostly because he wasn’t sure it was true anymore. He’d been out of contact for so long, and he couldn’t guarantee James would forgive him for it a second time. “He’s one of the best people I know.”
“You’re going back there?” she asked.
And he’d been able to answer without a second of hesitation, because he knew that’s where he belonged. “Yes, the moment this place closes.”
She seemed happy for him, and happy to take all the documents and letters he’d managed to find. If anything, he hoped it would bring her some closure, and some way to feel connected to the mother who had died before she got the chance to know her. He tried to think about how Marie would have felt if Anna had come along sooner, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He didn’t know how Marie felt about giving her up, and maybe Anna would have been nothing but a reminder of what she’d suffered through.
So, he told himself, it was better this way.
Whatever it was, it led him straight to James’ arms, right there in that bed, with James pressing him into the mattress and kissing him until he couldn’t breathe. The tray crashed to the floor as their bodies twisted together, cocks hard and leaking, James’ hands pressing into his own. They were aware of nothing but each other—their breath hot and panting, mouths desperately searching, tongues fucking the way their cocks would do later.
It was perfect. No, it was more than perfect.
It was home.
Epilogue
Rowan couldn’t help his leg twitching with nerves as he watched James work, his gloved hands moving gracefully to fill tiny ink cups, to lay out large dollops of yellowish goo. A plastic cup of water sat to the right of the machine, two parts with two different types of needles that James had explained earlier, but Rowan had forgotten amidst his waves of anxiety.
He was wearing a pair of James’ basketball shorts, rolled up toward his hips to expose the top of his left thigh. It was hairless now, James laughing as he went through six disposable razors to clear the area. It felt prickly and cool, and he wasn’t sure how it was going to look after everything grew back, but right now he felt naked and over-exposed.
The shop was officially closed, just past midnight on a Wednesday, one year to the day since his mother had died. He wanted to commemorate the day with something both good and painful, and James had jumped at the chance when Rowan suggested the tattoo.
Rowan had seen the design months ago, when James had finished it, and he hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. It was a loping, intricate willow tree with branches that he swore he could see moving in the wind. He didn’t know how James could managed to achieve something so amazing and perfect, but he wasn’t surprised by it.
James constantly surprised him. Not just with art, but with everything else. With his ability to take stress in stride, to remain Rowan’s rock as he started his new charity that helped put disabled parents in touch with lawyers in every state. He often couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have a man so selfless as he watched James carefully guide young teens staying at Derek and Sage’s shelter as they learned about cars and motorcycles, and got their first paying job under his careful eye.
And sometimes, late at night when they were in bed, he couldn’t believe he had done anything to deserve a man who loved as hard as James did. But he wasn’t about to take it for granted. He’d do everything in his power to love James back just as much as he deserved.
Now, though, he was regretting some of his choices. Rowan liked some pain—he certainly didn’t mind getting playful in bed, and certainly didn’t mind James’ domineering tendencies, which often left him with a red, sore ass. But he didn’t like needles, and he didn’t like something that lasted.
“You okay, darlin’?” James asked softly.
Rowan nodded. “Yeah.” He stared down at the stencil James had carefully spread out on his thigh, then at the picture which sat on a small easel resting on James’ toolbox. It was going to look beautiful, even if the pain was too much.
“If you can’t take it, we can stop,” James reminded him for the thousandth time. “I’d never judge you.”
“So, I’d live the rest of my life with a weird blob of ink on my thigh like some sort of douche?” Rowan asked irritably. “No thank you. I’ll get through it.”
James laughed, pressing his gloved hands on top of Rowan’s thighs so he could kiss him. “I wouldn’t let you live like that, sweetheart. I’d turn it into something small and cute. Like a cricket.”
Rowan pulled a face, and James laughed harder, but he still got to work. He adjusted Rowan’s leg over the cling film, then pulled his lamp overhead and picked up his machine. Rowan’s breath caught in his throat as James pushed a little switch, and the machine buzzed to life.
He looked up with his bright, beautiful eyes, smiling. “Ready?”
Rowan swallowed thickly, then nodded. “Ready.” He clenched the sides of the chair, then braced himself for impact.
* * *
The first half an hour wasn’t bad, but then James had to remind him with a tiny, almost evil smile that the outline was the easy part. The tree wasn’t massive, and James planned on doing the whole thing at once, mostly because Rowan insisted he wouldn’t want to sit through another session.
After the first hour, he was regretting that decision. James had gotten to the shading, and it felt like a tiny, hot little poker dragging over his skin. He felt a little queasy at the sight of blood beading up on his red, puffy skin, and he comforted himself with the fact that it looked very nearly done.
The only part missing by the end of the second hour were the branches up near the top part of his thigh. James sprayed something onto a paper towel, wiping him down and clearing up some of the black ink smudges, then looked up at Rowan’s face.
His thumb traced over the skin there, and he licked his lips. “Just these last few branches, and then we’re done. It’s a sensitive part, so if you want to wait…”
“No,” Rowan said, ready to be out of the chair, but not wanting to give up now, not at the home stretch. “Just do it.”
James had a strange look on his face, but he nodded and then turned the machine back on. He wasn’t wrong—it was sensitive. Not unbearable, but uncomfortable to say the least. The needle flew over his skin, leaving blood and black smudges against his pale thigh, and in a way, it was kind of beautiful. He liked knowing that not only was James leaving a permanent mark on him, but he’d done it in honor of Marie, so part of her would never die.
He sat back, determined to relax through the rest, when suddenly the pain turned into something else. The burning was still there, it was still awful, but there was an undercurrent of something…more. He startled a bit when suddenly he felt something hit a nerve, and his cock immediately responded. The second pass of the needle made it worse, and as much as he tried to will himself back to soft, it wasn’t working.
/>
He would have sworn James hadn’t noticed either, if it weren’t for the way James was biting his lip and blushing. But his boyfriend studiously kept going until the final shadow was done, and he sat back. His eyes weren’t looking at Rowan’s face, though, or the willow tree freshly etched into his skin.
No, he was staring at the way Rowan was tenting those thin, flimsy shorts and the barely-there boxers. He licked his lips like he was starving, and Rowan couldn’t stop himself from reaching in and pulling his dick out.
“Is this what you want?” Rowan asked, his voice husky and raw from disuse.
James finally looked up at him, the machine still in his hand, ink still everywhere. “Darlin’…you…”
Rowan gave his cock a stroke, and the pain was still there, but it was pushing to the background. “How bad am I going to fuck up your station when I come all over my stomach.”
“Fuck, fuck,” James hissed. He set his machine down, then pushed his rolling cart off to the side. When he stood up, he was reaching for a paper towel, wetting it down and wiping him up. “Keep stroking yourself,” he ordered when Rowan’s hand went still.
Rowan redoubled his efforts, trying to keep out of the way of the tattoo, and reaching his orgasm faster than he expected. “Keep going?” he asked when James laid a fresh towel over him with something wet and strangely soothing.
“I’m going to suck you off so you don’t get it everywhere,” he said, his voice a low growl. He whipped his gloves off, then stormed around to the other side of the chair, sank into his rolling one, and took Rowan’s cock down in one swallow.
Rowan’s head flopped back hard, his eyes rolling in his head, his hand gripping the rests so tight his knuckles were white and aching. He felt James swallow against him, like he was trying to suck the orgasm straight out of his balls, and holy hell, it was working.
