19 Cutter
GETTING DRESSED IS AWKWARD. I don’t know how to behave around Aubie now.
We did it. We were as close as two people could get. I gave him exactly what he wanted.
Fucked him.
One and done.
So why do I feel like I’m missing something?
I was a little slow to warm up to the act, but once I relaxed and let him take charge, it got easier.
I may even have enjoyed it, though I refuse to read anything into that.
It was just the physical reaction to burying my cock in a warm hole. It’s been a while.
“So we’re good?” I ask hopefully.
His expression betrays nothing. “I made a promise to you. One time, then we go about our lives. I can go back to hating you and you can go back to hating me.”
“How do I know you’ll honor that agreement? How do I know you won’t continue to ambush me with innuendos and blow jobs?”
He shrugs. “You’ll just have to trust me.”
And there’s the rub. “Maybe I can’t trust,” I murmur as I pull on my pants. I glance up at him to gage his reaction before going on, though I don’t know why. Do I really want him knowing this?
“I was betrayed by the two people closest to me.”
“And now you can’t move on. Poor baby.”
His flippancy pisses me off. I glare at him. “Have you ever cared about anyone besides yourself?”
The question seems to strike a nerve. He drops his eyes, staring at his hands, his voice barely a whisper. “I have.”
Maybe he has, but it obviously didn’t mean dick to him. One look at his life would prove that. I should just shut up and finish getting dressed, but I can’t seem to stop myself from continuing. Can’t seem to stop myself from explaining why I am the way I am. Why I have reasons.
“My world fell apart. All because I walked in on something I wasn’t supposed to see.”
Is that it? Is that the sticking point? Would I have turned a blind eye to the evidence if I hadn’t caught them? Would our lives have gone on just like we planned, a house built on lies? Is that what I wanted?
Or is it honesty? Is it fucking a man in the middle of the day?
Is it fucking this man?
What he says next surprises me. “Speaking as someone who has done the betraying, it hurts just as much to be on this end. The regret will eat at you like a cancer until any distraction is welcome. Believe me, I’m a pro at distraction.”
That’s quite a confession, and I’m not sure how to take it. I can doubt his sincerity, but I can’t deny the anguish in his voice. When I don’t say anything, he continues.
“Want to know a secret?”
Do I? To say no when he’s opening up would be rude, so I nod for him to go on.
“I have everything a young queer man could possibly want, but none of it matters. The truth is, there’s only one thing I really want in this world. One thing I crave with every beat of my immoral little heart.”
Do I really want to hear more about his deviant lifestyle? My knee-jerk reaction is no. The sooner I get out of here, the sooner life can go back to normal. Whatever that is.
But we just shared something intense. I can push it aside and pretend it didn’t affect me, but that would be a lie. It did affect me. Way more than I thought it would, and I’m back to wondering if it’s what he is or who he is that makes the difference.
The attraction hasn’t gone away. When I look at him, I still feel the same twinge in my cock. I could just ignore it and hope it will fade over time, but is that what I really want?
Or do I want to experience it again?
Because while we were joined, while we were lost in the throes of passion, I’ve never felt more alive. And it made me realize how dead I’ve been inside these last few years.
“What one thing?” I ask, because I suddenly want to know. I can’t believe we’re actually doing the post-coital confession thing, though with him I have to weigh how much of it is an act, a bid for sympathy. Was he lying when he said he would go back to hating me?
He looks up, his eyes raw when they meet mine. “Forgiveness. The chance to say I’m sorry.”
Forgiveness?
The word vibrates like a tuning fork against my heart.
I’ve never had a reason to offer forgiveness because no one’s ever said they were sorry for what happened to me.
And yes, it happened to me. I didn’t do anything to cause it.
I watched it happen right in front of my eyes, watched the very bedrock I had built my life on collapse beneath my feet while both parties knew they were in the wrong and did nothing to make it right.
And never once did either of them apologize. Hell, they didn’t even acknowledge it.
Forgiveness.
Is that what I need to get past this? Would it matter? I’m sure Callum couldn’t care less. He doesn’t even believe he did anything to be forgiven for. And Amber…she did reach out to me last week. I just don’t know if I could be in the same room with either of them again.
The trouble is, feeling this way, carrying this resentment, this hatred, is like a weight around my heart. It’s strangling any chance I have of actually enjoying my life again. No matter what Aubie says he feels, it can’t be as bad as this.
He sighs, pulling me back to reality. I look at him, seeing him fully for perhaps the first time since I met him. There’s something vulnerable there. Something deep. Something I recognize because I see the same thing in my own eyes when I look in the mirror.
Loss.
Could it be all the acting out, the flamboyant lifestyle, the endless sex partners are just a mask? A protective cover?
I almost feel sorry for him.
I can’t feel sorry for him.
I need to get out of here before I say or do something stupid.
I pull my shirt on and reach for my jacket. “Well…thanks.”
When I turn toward the door he jumps up off the couch and sprints toward me.
No seductive prowl. No wanton strut. Gone is the hated smirk, the cocky brattiness.
His eyes are wide, his expression earnest, making him look years younger.
He steps in front of me and reaches down to wrap his hands around my wrists.
“One for the road?”
Before I can register what he means, he leans up and presses his lips to mine. There’s none of the frantic lust from earlier. It’s slow and soft and stirs something deep inside me that has nothing to do with my cock.
Before I realize what I’m doing, my hand closes around his nape and pulls him closer, deepening the kiss. Why do I want to inhale him?
Why does it feel as painful as a goodbye?
He withdraws first, his eyes studying my face. “Take care of yourself, Cutter.”
That’s my cue.
I should go now.
I should turn around and walk out the door. Get on my bike and go home. Forget this ever happened.
I should do that.
I will do that.
Just as soon as…
His eyes hold mine, and something passes between us. Something that doesn’t require words because there are no words to say what I’m feeling. I don’t even want to acknowledge it.
And yet here we are, and I know if anything is going to happen, it has to come from me. He made me a promise, and he’ll keep it. I know that now.
He’ll walk away unless I give him a reason to stay.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I pull him closer and claim his mouth with my own.
And just like that, all that lustful heat is surging through my body again.
That high I felt when I was deep inside him.
It’s like crack, and I’m definitely addicted.
Can’t even imagine how I ever lived without it.
He pulls back and stares into my eyes. “Are you sure?”
I sigh. “Fuck me. Yeah.”
? ? ?
I beat myself up all the way home, later than I intended. What was I thinking?
I can’t do this, whatever this is.
I can’t have a relationship with Aubie Gauthier. The thought of it is absurd. It must’ve been endorphins affecting my brain. Why else would I kiss him again when I accomplished everything I set out to do?
I had one foot out the door. Aubie was out of my life. Got what he wanted and was honoring our agreement.
It was me who pulled us back. Me who initiated that kiss.
Leave it to Aubie, he saw the writing on the wall.
“When you get home and regret what just happened, remember this.” Then he kissed me long and slow and sweet. “Ball’s in your court, big guy.”
Fucking brat.
Sitting around the apartment isn’t going to cut it. I need to do something. Get out of my head.
That’s how I end up at a meeting. I don’t feel like having a drink, but I’m not right either. I feel like something is crawling under my skin and I can’t get it out. Listening to the familiar drone of other experiences might be enough to help me make sense of all this.
Sammy finds me afterward at the coffee station at the back of the room. “What’s going on, Cutter?”
I dump a packet of sugar into the black sludge and take my time stirring it before looking up. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I haven’t seen you at a meeting in months–not that I don’t welcome you. But after that phone call last week, then showing up here tonight, I’m betting something’s changed.”
I offer a grim smile. “You know what they say about betting.”
“Cut the shit, man. I’m your sponsor. You’re supposed to be able to tell me anything. In fact, I encourage it because I know you have fuck all for friends to talk to.”
“You don’t know that.”
He levels me with an exasperated scowl. “Really?”
I sigh and take a sip of the coffee. Bad as I remember it. “I’ve been reassessing some things in my life lately.”
“Reassessing?” He smirks. “What the fuck does that mean?”
I can always count on Sammy to cut through my bullshit. That’s why he’s such a good sponsor. When I would screw up at the beginning, he was the one who offered tough love and a kick in the pants. And despite all that, I knew he had my back.
I toss the odious coffee in the trash and give my beard a tug. “I’m beginning to think I don’t know myself at all.”
He studies me for a minute. I don’t want to think about what he sees. I can feel my swollen lips, and I haven’t bothered to clean up since I left Aubie’s house.
“What led to this Come to Jesus moment?” Sammy finally asks.
Part of me wants to blurt the whole thing out. The seduction. The deal. The…sex.