Chapter 9 #2
I soften and shake my head. I’m overly full from the gas station breakfast burrito I choked down in the car while watching the gym. In hindsight, that’s probably a good part of why I had the vertigo attack.
But sodium and I are old friends, and it’s hard to stick to the breakup some days.
“Thank you,” I say aloud. “I’m good. But if you have an ice pack, that’ll help my vertigo.”
He bites his lip and runs his gaze up and down my body before nodding and motioning me inside and back toward the kitchen table.
He rummages around in the freezer and returns to me with an ice pack as I drop down into a chair. I feel almost instant relief as I push it to my neck and sip on the water he’s given me. The dizzy spell should be over shortly, and it helps that I have someone here who gives a shit.
That thought comforts me as I sit with my head bowed, the ice cooling my overheated skin.
I haven’t had anyone care about me like this in forever.
Or at all, really. Though I’m not sure what to think considering he’s a total stranger.
It should bother me more—who he is and why I’m here—but it doesn’t.
When I finally look up, Leaf is lounging on the chair beside me, casually flipping through an old magazine. He lifts it up toward me when I quirk a curious brow, and I read the title.
Blueboy.
It has a picture of a guy with a mullet and a six-pack standing on the beach, his hand near his groin, his body naked except for a towel hiding his dick.
‘Found this in that box. I think it’s from the eighties. Look at that hair.’ He uses his hands to describe the mullet in detail, and I can’t help but smile.
His eyes flick up to me, and he grins. He holds the magazine out to me. ‘You want to take this home. Have a good wank with it?’
I flush at the very visual representation of jack off in ASL, and I toss it back into the box. “Why do I need the magazine when I have you?”
His cheeks darken, and he wiggles on his seat. ‘I am better than a magazine.’ His eyes flick across my body as I set the ice pack down, feeling as normal as I can at the moment. ‘How are you feeling?’
“Better.”
He nods and then cocks his head slightly. ‘Why are you here?’
“Stalking, remember?”
He grins and then shakes his head. ‘It’s really rude to just invite yourself to sit on my porch.’
“Who said I was polite?”
He shifts on his seat again, his hand dragging down the bulge in his pants.
I like the way he squirms, the way he flushes from head to toe, how he always makes excuses as to why he should get on his knees and suck me off.
Maybe it will be a pity blowjob this time.
Either way, I’ll take it. My obsession with Leaf is a little… intense.
Even I can admit that.
Maybe it’s because he’s the first guy I’ve ever touched like this and the first man who’s ever touched me.
Or maybe it’s just him. His chaotic nature, the way he does everything with gusto.
And the mystery of him, of this place. I tell myself it’s because of my job, my last big project before I leave the Bureau forever, but I think I have to admit it’s him.
He keeps bringing me back.
He leans forward, his hands poised to tell me something, but then he turns his head toward the door and sighs. ‘Sorry. Doorbell.’
He pushes up and walks to the door, and I can’t help but track his movements. The way he walks, the way his ass bounces. This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about pushing him onto all fours and sliding into him.
A man moves into my view, tall, handsome, wearing a cowboy hat and a long-sleeved shirt. He looks like he just stepped off a horse.
Who the fuck is this guy, and why does Leaf speak to him like he knows him? Like he likes him? And the way the man smiles down at Leaf, his eyes twinkling, his gaze tracking all the details of Leaf?
I know what those fucking looks mean.
Suddenly, Leaf laughs, his head thrown back, gesturing to the backyard.
The man, far too handsome for anyone’s sanity, follows Leaf inside, his gaze tracking down to Leaf’s ass as he walks. But when he sees me, his movements falter slightly. I lean back in the kitchen chair, folding my arms across my chest and staring.
“Who’s this?” I make out the words on the man’s lips as Leaf just chuckles, slapping me on the shoulder.
“Thorne. My new friend.” He signs this and says it, the man’s gaze flicking down to Leaf’s hands.
My lips curl down at the corners. New friend? I’m more than that. A stalker at worst. A lover at most.
But a fucking friend?
I stand up, happy that my vertigo session is over.
I bet this man doesn’t have the issues I have, doesn’t have all the baggage I’m carrying around all the fucking time. And the lies.
Fuck, I should tell Leaf who I really am.
The thought winds its way around my head before I shove it back into a tiny box.
I can’t tell him. Not now. Because the reality is, Leaf is still a potential suspect.
I’m investigating his illegal attempt at buying explosives off the dark web and the possible abduction and murder of a man named Michael.
I want to believe Leaf isn’t a killer, but I don’t have enough evidence to convince me either way.
And while I usually listen to my gut, that’s not exactly admissible in court.
“Thorne,” Leaf says, tapping my arm to get my attention, “this is Clay. He helps me harvest the orchard. He’s a lifesaver.”
I glower at that. A lifesaver indeed.
“Nice to meet you,” Clay says.
I feel myself grunt, and I can make out the sound of Leaf’s soft chuckle. He taps my arm again and signs without speaking, ‘I just need to talk to him about the harvest. If you want me to interpret…’
I shake my head. None of that is my business, and I very much doubt it has anything to do with Michael. ‘It’s fine,’ I sign back.
Leaf smiles at me, his eyes bright, before he and Clay move outside and onto the porch.
I follow, unable to keep my eyes off the way the two of them speak to each other.
Easy and free. Leaf doesn’t need to use his hands with this guy.
This guy doesn’t have a disease that is slowly stripping his hearing away.
Didn’t Leaf say that he quit because he was burned out? And here I am, appearing in his life and forcing him to sign. Maybe the conversation they’re having is about how irritating my presence is for Leaf. It wouldn’t surprise me.
I sigh loudly without meaning to, and Leaf turns around, glancing at me. He immediately switches to ASL, and I wince. They really are talking about the harvest, the apples, plans Clay has for the off-season.
Fuck. I should leave.
The cowboy leans over and chucks Leaf under the chin, making Leaf blush slightly as he regains his full attention.
Something twists in my gut, and I clench my fists at my sides.
“Come by anytime for a drink. I’ve been experimenting,” Leaf tells Clay as he squeezes Leaf’s shoulder. He keeps his hand there for far too long.
Clay grins at that, his eyes tracking the way Leaf smiles. He must catch me looming to the side because he just nods at me as he moves back through the house and disappears out the front door.
I don’t step from my place on the porch.
I should move. I should get in my car and go. I shouldn’t have come here in the first place, but my feet don’t move.
Leaf appears at my side before I can make any rash decisions and taps me on the shoulder. When I turn toward him, he offers me a soft smile.
‘Sorry about that,’ he signs. ‘Have to harvest the red grenades before they rot.’
I stare at him and then say, “He likes you.”
‘Of course he does. I’m his boss now. I pay him.’
I shake my head and add back in sign in case Clay is lurking nearby, ‘He wants to fuck you.’ I’m pretty sure I got those signs right from the way Leaf lets out a disbelieving laugh.
‘Clay?’
‘Yes.’ My fist shakes a little as it nods. God, this is so not like me.
He shakes his head and then sighs, running a hand over his giggling throat. ‘You’re hallucinating. Come on, let’s sit down.’
I don’t want to sit down. I want to leave, but my body does as he says.
I lower myself into a rickety chair and say, “I know what I saw. I’m not hallucinating.”
His giggles die off, and he nods solemnly.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest you really were.
I just…Clay has been around for ages. He doesn’t want to fuck me.
He just feels sorry for me. This mess my aunt left me.
’ I roll my eyes, and Leaf blushes and shakes his head again.
‘Understand, not many people want to fuck me. I think you’re one of the only people who wants anywhere near me. ’
My head cocks, and my hands unclench on my thighs. ‘That’s not true.’ My hands move up to sign, my voice completely off. Leaf watches my hands move, and his eyes flick up to meet mine.
‘I like the way your hands move.’ He shifts on his feet. ‘I like your hands.’ He does a cute little sign, one where he pretends to lick the tip of his fingers before emphasizing that last word. ‘Period.’
‘I like your hands too.’
‘My hands are quite talented.’
I know that. I’ve felt them wrapped around my dick, and the way he’s signing to me right now. Fucking fabulous.
‘True biz,’ I reply, and he grins.
‘Want me to show you how good they really are?’ he asks, and my cock thickens in my jeans. I shouldn’t. I should let him be with someone like Clay, someone who he’ll never have to sign with.
But I can’t move. Instead, I ask, ‘You sure you want this? I feel broken.’
His face falls, and he moves toward me, settling between my legs, his body so fucking close. ‘Why you say that? Why?’
I glance away from him for a moment and then back to him. ‘I’m losing my hearing. You hate signing.’
He shakes his head. ‘I never said that. I said I was burned out from interpreting. I don’t hate sign. I love ASL. Love the Deaf community.’
‘But you have to interpret for me. You just did.’
He frowns and shifts even closer, his finger twisting around the bottom of my shirt. His hand absently brushes against my cock, and I bite back a moan. I’m opening up to him, about my insecurity, about my weakness, and I’m horny at the same time.
‘Deaf is not broken, and I think you know that.’ He’s right, I do. I’m just taking this hard right now for some reason. ‘I don’t mind interpreting for you. You’re my exception.’ He signs the word special, but he mouths what I read it as.
Exception? Me?
‘You sure?’
‘Trust. Want me to prove it to you?’
I swallow as his finger untwists from my shirt and drifts down to the zipper of my pants.
Shit. I have a sudden vision of Clay watching us from somewhere on the property, and my dick thickens a little more.
I can’t believe I’m doing this outside, but there’s nothing in the world right now that could make me stop him.
I want this. With every atom of my body.
‘You don’t need to,’ I start to argue weakly, but my hand drops to the arm of the chair as he works my cock out of my pants. I let out a soft moan. It rattles against the back of my throat as he strokes me.
‘I don’t suck just anyone’s dick,’ he tells me and then catches my gaze as he licks up the underside of my cock.
I gasp as his tongue flicks out and twists around my tip.
Then he shifts up onto his knees, and he swallows me whole.
My hands move into his hair, holding onto him tightly as he works me toward the edge.
I can’t stop staring at him, the bob of his head, the way his free hand is working his own dick in tandem.
Why is he so hot?
I wrench his head off me, and he stares up at me, cheeks flushed and chin wet.
‘Up.’ It’s a simple sign, but he understands.
I pull him into my lap, his body fitting against mine perfectly.
His knees press against my sides as I place his hands on the arms of the chair.
I can feel the groan of the wooden seat beneath our weight, but I can’t be fucked to say anything about it.
I just want to bring him over the edge with me.
I pull his shorts down, exposing his cock, and pull him closer. I see the whites of his knuckles as he grasps onto the chair, holding on for dear life when I pull our dicks together and stroke. His chin hits his chest, his swollen lips parting as he moans.
My hand tightens around us. Neither of us can look away as I bring us toward the edge.
The edge of all reason, of all fucking sanity.
He comes first, his hands moving to my shoulders, squeezing tightly as his cock erupts. It pulses over the tip of my own, and I continue to stroke, using his release as lube. My own orgasm barrels through me a second later, and my back bows back as I let out a shout.
Leaf hasn’t moved, my fingers still wrapped around us, holding us together.
‘Hot.’ His hand is trembling just a little.
It’s one sign but conveys it perfectly. I nod and slowly let us go, our mixed release on my fingers.
He stares at it, bringing it up to his lips and licking one finger into his mouth, tasting us. I can’t stop staring at him, my entire body tingling in anticipation.
‘Delicious. Try.’
He lifts my hand to my lips, and I pull one of my fingers into my mouth. The bitter taste of cum hits my taste buds, but I like it. I suck on it, getting every last drop.
Leaf shifts on my lap, his cheeks still flushed, his eyes hooded. Then his eyes widen, and he gasps so hard I can feel the intake of his breath.
‘Shit! Cum. Salt. You okay?’
It takes me a minute to process what he’s saying, but before I can address it, the chair groans beneath us again, and this time, I feel it start to fracture.
My arms go around him, and I hold on as the leg gives out and we topple backward into a stack of newspapers that have been left to rot on the porch.
They flutter around us, Leaf’s body landing on top of mine with a grunt.
I cradle him against me as we just lie there in the rubble, neither of us moving.
Don’t think I want to, to be honest.
This right here is fine by me.
Eventually, he leans up and stares down at me. ‘Sorry about that. This chair was old.’
I blink up at him, his flushed cheeks. “You called me a friend to Clay,” I say aloud. My voice is jarring after signing for so long.
Leaf’s brows furrow in confusion. I know I’m going on a tangent, but still. I have to say it. I reach up and touch the nape of his neck, bringing him closer. “We’re more than just friends…aren’t we?”