One for Sorrow

by Louise Collins

  “Thank you,” Chad whispered.

  Romeo put the photograph aside, then rolled to face Chad. It took Chad more of an effort, but he turned on his side, facing Romeo. There was no wolfish smile, or amusement in Romeo’s eyes, only sadness. Chad focused on his swollen lip, the ugliness he’d put there. He reached tentatively, cupping Romeo’s cheek, then brushed his thumb against the puffy flesh.

  Romeo licked at the cut, catching the pad of Chad’s thumb.

  “I shouldn’t have hit you. I’m sorry.”

  Romeo smirked. “Have you forgotten who I am, what I’ve done?”

  “No, sometimes I wish I could, then maybe I wouldn’t feel so … guilty.”

  “Guilty? Why do you feel guilty?”

  He didn’t know. He way lying next to his captor, in a room decorated with his failure, and Romeo’s triumph, the most horrific kind of triumph, but when he looked at him, he saw Romeo as an illusion, the handsome man with a monster mind, but beyond that, there was someone else, someone Chad connected with, his confidant, his secret keeper, an end to his loneliness.

  “Because I like you, and I feel guilty for liking you, not hating you, and I feel guilty for lashing out at you when you were only trying to calm me down. I feel guilty lying next to you now, knowing what you’ve done. So yeah, the byproduct of everything spinning in my head, is guilt.”

  The words rushed from his mouth, and only doubled his guilt, tripled it, made it so unbearable he verged on a breakdown. Romeo seemed to notice his inner conflict and pressed his hand to Chad’s, still against his cheek.

  “It’s okay, what you’re feeling is normal.”

  “Normal?”

  “Well, normal for this highly unusually situation.”

  “Feeling guilty all the time is exhausting.”

  “Then stop.”

  “Like it’s that easy.”

  Romeo lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know, I don’t feel guilt. But I have heard of the phrase guilty pleasure. I think I might be yours.”

  Chad’s throat tightened. “Maybe you are.”

  “Why not indulge in it completely?”

  “I’ll feel worse afterwards.”

  “You don’t know until you try.”

  They gazed at each other; Chad felt the puff of Romeo’s breath against his thumb and saw the pupil in the center of his marbled green eyes expand. When Romeo leaned forward to press a kiss to Chad’s lips, he didn’t dodge it. He shut his eyes and accepted it, but didn’t kiss back. Romeo nudged Chad’s cheek with his nose, then brushed his lips against Chad’s as he spoke.

  “Kiss me.”

  He slipped his hand down from Romeo’s cheek, to his firm chest. “I can’t cross that line.”

  “There’s only a line if you’ve drawn one. I certainly haven’t.”

  “There is a line: you’re a killer, I’m a detective.”

  “Not here, we’re not. We’re Chad and Romeo. We’re two men that want to know each other completely.”

  Chad closed his eyes, rubbing his nose to Romeo’s. He couldn’t help it, nor could he help the frantic beat of his heart, of his blood flowing south. Romeo so close felt intoxicating, his scent, his heat, his lips so close.

  “It’s not right,” Chad whispered, but it didn’t stop him pressing his mouth to Romeo’s, a quick touch just to see what it was like. Romeo’s lips were soft, warm, and he returned the kiss. He could smell his sweat, the earth from outside, and Romeo’s unique scent that made Chad’s gut squirm in the most addictive kind of way.

  “Imagine we met in a club, you know nothing about me, and I know nothing about you.”

  “But that’s not how it is.”

  Romeo gripped Chad’s hip, and the touch burned, making him shiver and rock his body in Romeo’s direction.

  “I said imagine. Now I’ve taken you back to mine, and we both know what we want, we both know where we’re heading.”

  “I can’t,” Chad said, pushing his hand against Romeo’s chest. His engagement ring sparkled, and Romeo glanced down at it, then lifted Chad’s hand.

  “You don’t love him.”

  Romeo curled each of Chad’s fingers, except his ring finger, then sucked it into his mouth, all the way. Chad gasped at the suddenness, and the wet heat around his finger.

  Romeo didn’t break eye-contact, and Chad felt his tongue, the slight suction and it went straight to his groin. He shivered, staring deep into Romeo’s dark eyes.

  Romeo pulled Chad’s finger back out, then gripped the ring. He yanked. Chad winced at the burn in his knuckle, but didn’t ask for him to stop. He was panting, too turned on and frustrated to care about the pain to his finger. He wanted the ring off, and he wanted Romeo to be the one to release him from the lie.

  His finger bled as Romeo tugged. The blood and saliva were what set it free, and it slipped off. The hair on the back of Chad’s neck stood up, and another shivery wave traveled through him. Even though his finger hurt, it felt good, and fueled his arousal.

  Romeo threw the ring in the direction of the fireplace, then plunged Chad’s finger back into his mouth. He soothed the burning graze with his tongue, then skipped his lips higher before digging his teeth in. Chad’s heavy breathing got worse, and embarrassed heat surged into his cheeks. He was so horny he was hyperventilating, so desperate he was prepared to overlook all the bad, for a quick moment of something good.

  When Romeo removed Chad’s finger from his lips, Chad focused on the teeth indents, right where his engagement ring had been. Romeo had branded him, marked him, and although the marks would fade, he knew he wouldn’t forget. He’d been freed from a lie but was trapped in the truth. He wanted Romeo.

  “He doesn’t know you like I do, no one does.”

  Romeo slipped his hand into Chad’s boxers, freeing his neglected cock. The first touch was almost too much, and Chad trembled, groaning softly. Romeo swiped his thumb against the head of Chad’s cock, applying light pressure at the slit until moisture escaped, pre-cum that he circled back into Chad’s head, making him writhe and whine. It kept coming, making him wetter, more receptive to Romeo’s circling thumb. He wasn’t going to last, was amazed he’d managed to keep it together.

  “We both know the real us,” Romeo whispered. “There’s no line between us.”

  Chad nodded, giving in. He wanted to badly to touch, and be touched, and blocked out the niggling voice at the back of his head. He ran his hand down Romeo’s body, finding the top of his sweatpants. It was easy to pull them down, and when he realized Romeo wasn’t wearing any underwear, he bit his lip to stop a broken moan.

  Chad took hold, and as soon as the hot weight was in his hand he swallowed and shivered at how good it felt. Romeo’s cock was silky smooth. The head was wet and wide, and his lashes fluttered when he thought of it entering him, breaching him, pressing its heavy weight on his body until it was accepted inside.

  One light tug and a shudder ran up Romeo’s body, the giant chest of muscle hitching under Chad’s testing touch, and Chad’s stomach fizzled. Romeo was panting into his open mouth. They were both staring at each other, gasping for breath, hands on each other’s cocks. Chad tugged again and watched another wave of sensation travel through Romeo. His eyes momentarily closed, then flashed open, dark and devouring.

  Chad shifted closer, pushing his mouth to Romeo’s waiting one. It was a kiss of sweat, mud, and blood, and Chad couldn’t get enough. Chad kissed until the tastes all blended, and it was their addictive cocktail of desire, wrongness, and relief.

  Their tongues curled, slowed, until the pace was leisurely, fleeting licks and swipes across slackened lips. Chad gave as much as he got back, and they pressed their foreheads together. As soon as they were no longer distracted by their mouths, they remembered their hands.

  Romeo started fisting him, fast and unforgiving. Chad increased the speed of his touches on Romeo, chasing him as if it were a game of who’d come first. He let his guilty thoughts dissolve away, and all he could feel wa
s Romeo’s stiff cock, slick under his touch, his own cock tingling so intensely, so close to the edge of oblivion. It was messy, uncoordinated, full of wet gasps and desperate pants, but it was the hottest hand-job he’d ever given, hottest one he’d ever received. Chad shoved his face forward, not to kiss, but to press himself into Romeo’s throat. He breathed deep, getting drunk on his scent as he spilled into Romeo’s hand. His moan muffled against Romeo’s muscles, but Chad heard the shudder of his voice, wrecked and devastated by the sudden release.

  He could’ve stopped stroking Romeo—he’d finished, Romeo’s hard-on was his problem—but Chad couldn’t stop. He wanted to finish Romeo off, wanted to feel his cum splatter against his chest and soak his hand. Chad kept his face against Romeo’s throat, closed his eyes, listening to the panting by his ear, the wet slide of his hand. It spurred him on, and when Romeo tensed suddenly, Chad pulled back to see the orgasm wash over his handsome face.

  Romeo closed his eyes, opened his mouth wider in a silent gasp, then shivered right down to his toes. His cock spurted hot cum against Chad’s shirt, and he looked down at it glistening on him, not repulsed, but pleased he’d done it.

  Blissed out, satisfied, Romeo looked even better, and when he smiled, his cheeks lifted, and the skin around his eyes crinkled. Chad stared at him, mesmerized, then smiled back, a real smile, small, but real, not a lie.

  Romeo laughed, prodding his swollen lip. Chad’s shock, or amusement, or whatever it was that made him grin ended. He stared up at the ceiling, preparing himself for the tidal wave of shame, guilt, and self-loathing, but it didn’t come.

  The ceiling was blocked by Romeo rolling on top of him. “I’ve got you now.”

  He looked happy, triumphant, like he’d won a game, completed a puzzle.

  Chad had finally lost to Romeo.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chad hadn’t just crossed a line; he’d taken a huge two-footed leap over it. He told himself it was only lust, arousal, finishing in relief, that’s all it was, but as he gazed at the Band-Aid around his ring finger, his stomach rumbled with unease.

  He curled the Band-Aid off his finger, checking the wound. Scabbed over, slightly oozing, it looked better than the day before, and the day before that. Four days had passed since he gave into temptation, and although Romeo didn’t press him for more, or taunt, Chad felt it bubbling beneath the surface.

  He wanted more.

  Chad sighed and moved his attention back to the crossword. He’d reread the clues several times, but nothing was going in. The last few days were on repeat in Chad’s head.

  They’d washed, they’d cooked, cleaned up; Romeo had chopped wood, and Chad had watched the birds flying free through the binoculars. They settled in front of the TV to quiz shows, and movies, and then they came together at night, no longer separately, but pressed together. Romeo rubbed Chad’s shoulders, played with his hair, comforted him, and frustrated him, too. Chad had no idea how to instigate more, and every time temptation almost got the better of him, he scowled at himself, and glanced at the wallpaper decorating the living room.

  The door to the kitchen opened, and Romeo walked in, sporting his tweed jacket and flat cap. He rested with his hand on his hip, panting at the worksurface. He hadn’t driven back. He’d walked, and Chad forced the piece of information from his mind.

  Romeo put a grocery bag on the side, then craned his neck closer to see the crossword.

  “You’ve not done any?”

  “It’s hard.”

  “Well you’re certainly not 6 letters, a person with special knowledge.”

  Chad scrunched his face, thought really hard, then wagged the pen at Romeo. “Expert.”

  “Maybe you are slightly improving … slightly.”

  Chad sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been distracted.”

  Romeo flashed his confident smile, then started unpacking the grocery bag. He dropped the new newspaper on top of the one Chad had been staring at. He quickly flicked through the pages to get to the new crossword, ignoring the front-page headline.

  Romeo lined up the tins and jars he’d bought. “I thought a pasta dish for lunch…”

  “Sounds good.”

  “And this for when you’re ready.”

  Chad looked up and saw the bottle in Romeo’s hand. Lubricant. He didn’t comment, but he imagined his face said a thousand words. He felt hot, and sweaty, and that was the mere suggestion of sex. Then he looked down at the newspaper. The crossword, not the front-page headline, but still, it was there, if only he had the courage to turn the page.

  “Only if you want to,” Romeo said. “We’ve not got long left together…”

  Panic flared, not at the thought of Romeo stalking his next victim, but at being separated from his captor. Chad scrunched his face and began massaging his temples. Romeo came up behind him and took over.

  “I didn’t mean to stress you out.”

  “Yeah, you did,” Chad sighed, accepting his touch.

  “Okay, maybe a little. Time’s ticking away … counting down.”

  “I’m doing my best not to think about it.”

  Romeo moved his attention from Chad’s temples, to his tight shoulders. “I bought ice cream, too.”

  “Ice cream? It’s cold outside.”

  “So you don’t want any?”

  “Let’s not be too hasty.”

  Romeo snorted. “Ice cream, brownies, chocolate sauce, squirty cream, and a bear-shaped wafer.”

  “You’re kidding right?”

  “Nope, how my mother used to make it for me.”

  “You were one spoiled kid…”

  “Yep, and now I’m spoiling you, but only if you eat all your vegetables.”

  “You’re such a patronizing bastard.”

  “Cursing is not allowed in this house.”

  “What you gonna do, chain me up in the barn?”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  Sometimes Chad thought things would’ve been simpler, if Romeo had left him tied up in the barn from the beginning. He wouldn’t have started to like him and crave his company.

  Romeo let Chad’s shoulders go. He moved to the sink, filled up a glass, then downed the lot. His cheeks were red from his strenuous trek back to the farm, and he continued to heave.

  “It’s an exhausting walk for me, and I have two functioning legs…”

  Chad saw the statement for what it really was, a reminder that he couldn’t escape even if he wanted to. He hadn’t made it across the first field before he collapsed, and Romeo had had to rescue him and bring him home.

  Romeo took off his jacket and hat, hanging them on the hooks by the backdoor. He took a load of letters out of his grocery bag, all tied together with an elastic band, and started flicking through them.

  Chad raised his eyebrow, and Romeo waved them. “Bills. I’ve got a mailbox in the city, saves the mailman trying to drive up the dirt track.”

  “Right.”

  “I need to get my affairs in order for when I leave. Cancel gas, water, electricity, that kinda thing.”

  “Why bother?”

  Romeo shrugged. “It’s the polite thing to do.”

  “Your priorities are messed up.”

  Chad clunked his wrist against the radiator. Romeo took noticed and hurried to uncuff him.

  “Sorry, sometimes I forget.”

  “Yeah, so do I.”

  Chad got to his feet, staggered over to the stack of letters, then read the name off the first one. “Benjamin Pollard, your name’s not even Romeo?”

  He didn’t know why, but the lie hurt. He thought he knew Romeo, but in reality, he knew nothing.

  Romeo cupped his face, lifting Chad’s chin.

  “It’s not something to get upset over.”

  “You lied. You said you haven’t lied to me. You said—you said I was…” Chad growled, turning his head, but Romeo gripped onto him with both hands.

  “You are special.”

  “I don’t even kn
ow why I care.”

  “Romeo’s the name my mother gave me. I’ve not used it since she died. It always felt too nice, too sweet. I couldn’t imagine a twisted person called Romeo, so I went by others, all until I met you. It sounds nice when you say it, I like it.”

  “I’ll be sure to say it with a weird accent from now on.”

  Romeo stepped back laughing.

  Chad looked at the tweed jacket and cap hanging on the back of the door. “What do you wear when you’re pretending to be homeless?”

  “Huh?”

  “You’ve got the suit, the farmer clothing, what do you wear when you’re on the street, outside the hospital?”

  “Old, brown pants with holes in the knees, fingerless gloves, a well-worn jacket, but it’s all about the face.”

  “The face?”

  “Dirty, I flatten my hair, grow my stubble, and stare at people. They grow uncomfortable when you stare. I told you, people act like you’re invisible, part of the building rather than the man sitting against it.”

  “I know what it feels like.”

  “Your mum treated you like you were invisible—”

  “That’s not what I meant. I spent nine months living rough with Toby.”

  “Really?”

  Chad picked his nails. “Yeah, I ran away from the kids’ home when I was sixteen, ended up on the streets of London. It’s not the other homeless who are terrifying, but everyone else. The fights I saw, the way I was treated.”

  “Good job you had Toby with you.”

  “The number of people that tried to take him from me…”

  Romeo came closer, frowning. “What?”

  “People that apparently worked for animal shelters, they tried to guilt trip me into giving him up, why make him suffer when it was my fault I was homeless.”

  “There’s a lot of ignorant people in this world.”

  “It played on my mind though. Would he have been better in a proper family, some big house, with a garden, walks in some posh park, fancy tins with proper meat? I guess keeping him by my side was a bit selfish, but he was all I had.”

  Chad drifted off, shaking his head. “I remember this one time, I woke up, and Toby was gone. I knew it might happen, he might leave me, he might wander off. I had no lead on him. I didn’t make him stay, and I told myself it was good I was giving him the option, but when I couldn’t find him, it felt like my heart had been crushed.”