19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Beau
I ’m gentle at first, almost as though I lack any sort of goal or focus, though the opposite is certainly true. My tongue circles Adrian’s rim, then paints a few longer strokes before I pull away, a hundred kisses landing anywhere else until he pushes against me like he misses something more direct, and I whisper every kind of promise. My hands move too, caressing his skin and squeezing it roughly and then making room for myself to truly feast, everything slick with spit while I lap at him, Adrian growing louder and louder and muffling what he can with his arm or my pillow.
“Don’t do that,” I huff, biting his ass again and maybe leaving a mark this time. “Want to hear you.”
That has Adrian grinding hard into the bed, the cry pulled from him just as primal, but then I use my leverage to pull him closer to my mouth again, and I almost stop to ask whether he’s being teased by the sheets beneath him more than he can find relief from them. I imagine he’s starting to drip now, and it makes me relentless, hopeful that the contrast of my tongue and my beard are going to wreck him in some entirely new way. He says something about it, I think—if babbling frantically can be called that—and I encourage him and ask for more without saying a word, the vibration of the sounds I make quick to make him cry out again.
Then I back away only to press my thumb against Adrian’s hole, and he immediately goes in search of more, rocking into my touch as much as he can from where he lies.
“You’ve gotta keep going,” he pleads.
“Wasn’t planning to stop, love,” I say, the endearment tumbling from me when I barely sink inside him and ease away again. “You want me to fuck you with my fingers?”
Even as I ask, I begin to do it, one finger sliding all the way forward because Adrian’s body is relaxed enough for my spit to work until I grab a nearby bottle seconds later—massage oil traded for lube—to make it a little more obscene.
“Want—yes, but—no, not just your fingers.”
I push two slick fingers into him then, and his groan is nearly endless. I’ve always known how to touch him, even long before I understood how much he wanted me to, and I want this part of his massage to be as good as everything that’s come before, taking my time with each thrust as I take him apart. And somewhere in the middle of it all, I slowly kiss him everywhere, still or again or just for a moment or close to forever. My mouth skates over Adrian’s hips to his lower back, to his shoulder blade, to the nape of his neck, and then finally to his ear, while my fingers still fuck him open.
“This isn’t enough?” I ask, and though I’m still wearing my briefs, I’m unabashed about using Adrian’s leg for my own damn good, my cock seeking and finding something solid where I need it. “Tell me.”
“I want you to fuck me.”
I drop back down his body and add a third finger, overwhelmed when I realize I haven’t stretched someone like this in years, and only taking it back seconds later when I decide I can work him better with only two. My fingers stroke him confidently, each new touch leaving him a little louder beneath me, and I make plenty of my own noise too—some mix of mumbled vows and filth. I lick and suck and kiss Adrian everywhere until I suddenly grow still and silent, the next moment taking me by surprise when there’s no reason it should if I’m the one speaking.
“You said before—I know it was just talk but—” I slip my fingers from his body and nuzzle the back of his neck while I rut against him as slowly as I can. “I’m clean. I can fuck you bare if you want me to.”
Adrian’s gasp becomes about three other things before he responds. “After our phone call, you—”
“You mentioned it, and I—” I swallow hard and try one more time. “I want it if you do.”
I don’t ask him if he’s been tested recently, trusting that he’ll stop this if he wants to or needs to, and I’m quiet when I ease my body away from his to rid myself of my boxer briefs. There are condoms in the drawer if I need them, but I don’t have a chance to move in that direction before I hear him again.
“I don’t want anything between us anymore.”
It’s enough—it’s everything —and as soon as I stroke myself with slick fingers and lower myself between his legs, I don’t hesitate to nudge them further apart and push the head of my cock against him, one hand bracketing his side when I slide forward. His entire body is radiating heat I want to absorb when I blanket him on the bed, and while he’s not all that much smaller than I am, he seems it now, surrendering control to me as soon as I’ve filled him up. I rock back and then bury myself deep inside him again and—
It’s really, really good.
“You feel really, really good,” I breathe.
I keep moving before Adrian can ask me to, but I’m deliberate about it, dragging my cock nearly all the way out before I roll my hips forward a third time, my stuttered groan something he can probably feel in his own chest. It’s like that for a while, our pace one that should make at least one of us scream, but slow-fucking Adrian into the mattress is everything I didn’t know we needed, and I think it’ll last longer this way, even as his body pushes back for more.
A hum lands between us, and I let my hands roam everywhere—over Adrian’s ribcage and up to his arms, and I pull on his hair a little. I have the fleeting thought that I’ll never touch anyone else like this again, my body at home here in a way I’m not sure has ever been true before, even if I won’t try to find any of the words to say as much. I’m buried deep inside him with just enough of a grip to tug his head off the pillow, and playing his body is an intuitive thing, all of it easy when I push us to the right side of rough for a while. He’s so damn tight around me, and I thrust past the demanding heat coiling low in my belly and the tingle tripping down my spine, willing myself to wait so I can continue to watch him. I clock the moment his fingers curl around the edge of the mattress in an attempt to hold on to anything while our positions keep him from grabbing on to me, and I fuck him even better for it.
“I—fuck—I’m so close,” Adrian pants. “Just need—more—”
He rubs his cock against the sheets again, and I relax the hand in his hair in response, eager to wrap an arm around his waist instead. I lift him enough to change the angle and drive both of us mad when what would’ve gotten him off in seconds is now just out of reach, Adrian crying out as he gets so thoroughly fucked, and my voice rattling with the same pleasure I’m withholding from both of us.
“Mmmm, not yet. Gonna make you come so hard, but not yet,” I say, my entire body both taut and impossibly relaxed when I slow us all the way down again. “Just wanna feel you. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful—always, and—fuck, just like this. So good. It’s so fuckin’ good.”
For several moments, I could swear I’m barely moving anymore, except that I must be because I can track every second that Adrian clenches around me and every second that he pulls me that much deeper inside him. It’s excruciating and perfect and we’re both sweaty and shaking, and my arm slides further under his body to confine him or cradle him or take him apart or put him back together. I’m pretty sure he’s close to incoherent, and I’m busy telling him things he might not even remember tomorrow, but I want him to know.
And I want him to believe it all.
“Please,” he begs, and it sounds like something he tried a while ago, but I ignored him then, and the only reason I won’t ignore him now is because I very selfishly want everything that happens next.
“Yeah? Are you ready to come for me?”
He’s mostly boneless now, but Adrian whimpers and nods, and I move my hand to his cock for the few strokes it takes him to spill all over my sheet, my fingers plenty slick as I work him through it. I’m not exactly gentle about it, my control barely admirable at this point and my body shuddering until I swear with abandon and finally have to let go of Adrian just to brace myself before I come, my mouth open at his ear in time to send a perfect aftershock down his spine. We weren’t that loud and we’re not nearly as messy as we could be, but my heartbeat thumps in my ears and I think I need to get us cleaned up before I can’t move at all.
“Jesus, that—” Adrian trails off when I start to slip away. “Stay.”
“M’not gonna go far, love. Just gotta—”
“I know, but don’t. Just—a few more seconds of this. Please.”
I brush my lips to his neck and his shoulder and let my beard drag back and forth for a moment, lost in the sensation of being this close to him until I crave a way to be closer. The tip of my nose nudges his ear, and then I do my best to reassure him there.
“Not leaving, but I—let me kiss you.”
Adrian agrees without a word, and I pull out of him as carefully as possible, rolling onto my back and tugging him with me as my mouth opens for him. The bed is wet and sticky next to us, but it doesn’t matter when one of my hands trails down his back and over the curve of his ass and then close enough for me to slide a fingertip through the mess I’ve left behind. He relaxes even more than should be possible, his body undoubtedly sensitive when I press a finger deep and gently fuck my cum back into him, the gorgeous sound he makes caught by the back of my throat.
Fingering him like this is nothing like before and we both know it, the slow drag of his tongue against mine matching the pace I’ve set with my hand. He flutters around me, seeking more and being nowhere near ready for it, and I love that I can touch him like this without needing it to be anything else. And it’s filthy except in all the ways it’s more intimate than anything I’ve done in years, our kiss enough to say all the things neither of us will put into words.
Not tonight.
But I know I want to do this again and I know I can’t do it forever now, so after a few more tender thrusts and the chance to bite his lower lip for him, I finally pull myself away. I’m gone as little as possible, and when Adrian sees me return with a warm washcloth in my hand, he blinks through too many emotions for me to define them on my own. I take as long as necessary to get him clean, and then fetch a large blanket from the bench at the foot of my bed, encouraging him to move just enough for me to lay it over the wet spot, Adrian smiling almost shyly when I crawl back into bed and pull him into my arms.
“It’s been a minute—didn’t remember to plan ahead for that.”
“I’m sor—”
I cut him off with a kiss, stupidly soft and lazy about it. “Don’t you dare apologize. Can’t think of a better reason to do an extra load of laundry tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Adrian whispers, lifting a finger to trace my jaw.
“Is it? I mean, are you okay?”
“With the sex or with everything else in my head?”
“Are the two really all that far apart?” I ask. “Not that I think you’re upset about the sex, and maybe we would’ve ended up here no matter what, but you were gonna fall apart when you walked through my door tonight, and I’m nowhere near arrogant enough to think I solved that problem, even if you might’ve liked me to.”
Adrian frowns. “But you don’t think I came over just for that, right?”
There’s another kiss, longer than the last one, and I fumble with the duvet somewhere in the middle of it all, and then we’re buried beneath it and still naked and wrapped up in each other, and it’s so fucking comfortable. I don’t want him to be bothered by anything, but whatever else is on his mind, I want to reassure him that the parts that have something to do with me—with us—aren’t what I think he needs to talk about tonight or tomorrow or next week.
“You came over so I could hold you,” I tell him. “That’s all. Dinner was because we had to eat. The massage was because it’s a decent way to ease some tension, especially when someone doesn’t want to have a conversation. And the sex was because—well, I just wanted us to fuck. But I still want to make sure you’re okay with whatever else you brought with you, and I still want you to know I’m ready to listen whenever you need me to.”
“It’s a mess, though. It’s a mess, and I’m a mess.”
“And a bitch, Ade. Don’t forget that part.”
“Love.”
I quirk an eyebrow, almost certain I’m missing something. “Love what?”
“While we were fucking—you didn’t call me Ade then.”
He doesn’t continue and doesn’t have to. He explained it backward, but it’s all there and it brings my heart close to tipping sideways again, so many other words close to spilling out alongside the one he’s already heard. Some part of me wants to argue that it’s a term of endearment and nothing more, but I think we’re past those kinds of lies, and Adrian wouldn’t believe me if I tried.
“No, I didn’t,” I murmur.
Adrian responds by pressing his fingertips to my chest. “I want to stop taking the jobs I’ve been taking—to stop booking the photoshoots I’ve been booking. And I know I’ve said something like that before, but daydreaming about change and making a change are two different things.”
“Knowing you need to walk away from something for your own good and walking away from it are two different things.”
“See? Messy.”
“Real,” I counter.
“It’s almost too much though,” he sighs. “I feel like I’m leaving so many things behind—New York, Levi, the business I’ve spent years building.”
“And you don’t know the person you are without them.”
“What if neither of us like him very much?”
I smile. “I already like him a lot, probably because he left some of his hatred of me behind, too.”
“Just some of it?”
“Enough of it,” I say. “But look, you’re leaving people and places and things behind, but you’re gonna be stuck with yourself for a while. And if you’re worried that too much of you will change along the way, look around for the pieces of yourself you’ve lost in those people and places and take them with you when you go.”
“That’s—ridiculously wise. A Beau original?”
“Not even close. I just listen to wise friends once in a while.”
“And then you left the rest behind?” he asks.
“Working on it. And however I can help you get away from the stuff you don’t want anymore, you know I’ll do it.”
“I know.”
“If I’d known that you wanted to get away from everything before, I would’ve helped way back then.”
Adrian’s eyes shine in the dim room. “I think I know that, too.”
He starts to reach up and wipe a tear away—it’s the third time I’ve seen him cry now—but I knock his hand aside and do it for him. Adrian’s fingers curl around my wrist as though I had any plans to pull away again, and my breath catches in my chest before I swallow around the lump in my own throat and go on.
“Tell me some of the best things about him. The best things about being in love with him. Not all the passive reasons you stayed after you should’ve gone, but the active ones that might have kept you there forever if it didn’t hurt so much. The reasons you would’ve said yes if you could’ve.”
Adrian’s the one to pull away then, but it’s okay. I know he’s capable of telling me to fuck off if he needs to, and there’s a pretty incredible couch just feet away if that becomes a better option than where he lies now. Our hands end up clasped between us on the bed, and I already know it’s the only contact we’ll make until sometime after we’ve fallen asleep.
“I’ve never met anyone who laughs at their own jokes as much as he did,” Adrian says, hushed in the still of the night. “Not—he wasn't arrogant about it. But he’d get the giggles and have tears streaming down his face and it was the dumbest, most beautiful thing to see.”
“Keep going.”
He does. For a long, long time.
Some incredibly vague thoughts begin to kick around my head that night, fully waking up when I do, not long after sunrise. Adrian is still asleep, and it makes me wonder how little he’s been able to rest lately, but my thoughts and I sneak away to the bathroom and then the kitchen, Adrian’s fancy coffee right where he’d left it the morning of our hike. It’s been a couple of weeks since then, and I don’t have control over much more now than I did that day—not where fixing his shit is concerned—but I can handle brewing a pot for us while I let my brain toy with everything else.
Adrian needs to come to terms with his past while chasing a barely imaginable future.
I think I know too much about that and nothing at all.
He joins me eventually and keeps his mouth at my neck when he’s not busy drinking his coffee. Another few Levi stories come tumbling out, and I’m glad Adrian knows they weren’t limited to a single night. When he pauses, he draws lazy lines up and down my arms and doesn’t quite look at me.
“Will you tell me more about dancing with him?” he asks. “Not when—not the stuff about me. But about all the small things you might’ve loved about a stranger who was on his way to loving you a little bit, too.”
I put my knuckle under his chin and tip his head back until he can see my smile. “Well, first of all, his fucking shoes . ”
Adrian laughs into a kiss and we keep talking in between. When the coffee is gone, we take a shower together, and I hear about what happened with Jake at Trailhead, surprised that Riley and Darren didn’t get to me first. And while we both have busy work days ahead of us, I suggest we meet back at the bar for the drink we didn’t get to have then. I also suggest Adrian pack another bag and come home with me afterward.
In between appointments, I poke around on my phone, but information is hard to find when I have no real idea what I’m searching for, and a couple of texts from Adrian make me feel like there’s less of a rush to solve every problem, everything about him seeming more relaxed even within the handful of words he has to share. I double-check my bank account on a whim, and don’t dare ask about his, my thoughts held close when they’re still far from fully formed.
That afternoon, my last massage of the day cancels, and I had left myself some time for dinner before drinks anyway, so I drive out of my way to grab some food and spend awhile walking past stores I only sort of know. They give me more ideas though, and I think maybe I need to text him and ask a question I shouldn’t.
Hey on a scale of 1-10 how mad would you be if I push our drinks back an hour?
Adrian doesn’t respond right away, and whether it’s because he’s in the middle of something or just trying to do some complicated math is anyone’s guess.
2 probably. 3 maybe. And mad isn’t the right word. Everything ok ?
Yeah just want to run a couple of errands before I go home to shower and change
It’s true enough, and as long as traffic remains typically terrible and not unusually so, I can drive down the few streets I’d like to see without being any later than what I’ve already planned. I get back in my truck and set my half-drunk Coke in the cup holder, and then I head toward the beach and a couple of places I haven’t paid attention to in years.
Traffic is fine.
The beach streets are crowded.
I’m hopeful about things I don’t understand.
I still don’t know what I’m looking for.
And I want to see Adrian.
When I’m back at my apartment, I throw my scrubs in the hamper and take my second shower of the day because I’m hoping the next time I’m naked, it’s to crawl into bed next to Adrian. I don’t think too hard about what to wear, falling back to my regular Trailhead habits of jeans, a flannel, boots, and my cowboy hat, because maybe Adrian once liked me that way, and maybe I want to remember the tease of those early days now.
I’m halfway out the door when Darren texts to threaten me within an inch of my life if I stand Adrian up again. I almost argue that I didn’t technically stand him up last time, but that’s not Darren’s point.
Four minutes later, I walk into Trailhead, find Adrian at the bar, and kiss him before I’ve said hello. I guess that’s my point.
“Errands make the heart grow fonder?” Adrian asks with a wink.
“Eh, I think I was already plenty fond.”
Riley twists the cap on my beer and hands it over so I can tap it against Adrian’s glass. Darren winks at us before he gets busy serving another couple at the opposite end of where we’re sitting. Darren grabs two beers for them, and Riley moves to pour a few shots for someone else, and there’s a squeal from a bull rider, and laughter from some dancers. With the bar humming around us, Adrian and I have some time to talk and people watch and flirt and reminisce.
“When are you gonna get back out there?”
I follow Adrian’s nod toward the dance floor. “You that bored with our conversation already?”
“No, but dancing is a big deal to you and I haven’t seen you do it in a long damn time.”
“I haven’t done it in a long damn time.”
“Which brings us back to my question.”
It does, but I don’t have a good answer for him. I want to dance again, and very soon, but I think a few of those pieces of me left with Levi one night and never returned. I need a little more time before I gather the rest and step back into the sawdust, and I take a long pull from my bottle now in case it’ll help me stall long enough to find my rhythm again. Adrian drinks too, seemingly unbothered by my silence, and any more than that becomes unnecessary when V hurries over to us from where she’d been talking to someone near one of the pool tables.
“Perfect timing, boys,” she starts, kissing me on the cheek before she turns to Adrian. “There’s a man over there who’s really excited to talk to you about the pictures you took for us. He owns a place in WeHo. Saw the promo we dropped off down there.”
I glance at Adrian in time to catch the flicker of dread that’s there and gone before V has to make it a worry of hers. He’s told me about the handful of people who have reached out for help with their marketing—the potential boost for his business an unintended consequence of helping V with hers—and even without last night’s pillow talk, I would’ve understood the look in his eyes now. He doesn’t want to make shiny promotional handouts for anyone, and I reach over to squeeze his hand before he has to say that to a stranger with high hopes.
Once he’s gone, V and I chat with Riley for a bit, and I’m careful to say nothing on Adrian’s behalf, having probably overstepped a couple of times before showing up here. After a while, V ducks away to handle any of the dozen other things she needs to do, and Riley needs to check on things in the beer garden, the shift to warmer spring weather bringing crowds outside. I’m about as casual as I can be while keeping an eye on Adrian’s conversation with a stocky powerhouse of a man, familiar to me in a way I think most people in here are, confident where he faces Adrian in leather pants and a button-up shirt that fit him well. Adrian doesn’t look upset, or even all that bothered, a raised eyebrow suggesting skepticism before anything else.
Then I feel a strong hand on my shoulder and turn to look up at Jake from where I sit, the gray of his neatly trimmed beard surrounding his typically subtle smile. “Welcome back, cowboy. ”
“Oh, come on, I’ve been around.”
“For meetings and photoshoots,” he shrugs. “Not to drink and dance like you used to.”
I shake my head and lift my bottle. “You’re the second person to mention dancing tonight, and you don’t want to two-step with me any more than he does.”
Jake glances at Adrian’s glass and then he’s back to me again, his expression shifting. “You sure you don’t want to keep looking for a partner who’ll say yes when you ask?”
“I’m very sure. But maybe you and I should take a minute to talk about that.”