Chapter 7 Nick
seven
Nick
I fight the urge to run down the stairs to my bedroom even though my pulse is racing.
I’m not sure what’s made it imperative for me to get some space from Aaron—if it’s his presence, something he said, or the whole fucked up reason both he and Kit are in my home—all I know is I need a moment without him in it.
By the time I’m in my shower, eyes closed and head tilted back as the falling water soothes me, I’m calmer, but there’s a new issue.
My dick is half-hard, and I feel the tightness of arousal in my groin and stomach, an ache of need that has me sighing as the water cascades over my body like a caress.
I’m hyperaware of my skin and the fact that I haven’t been touched in weeks, not since Zack.
That thought should be enough to kill the boner I’m now sporting, but it doesn’t.
Nor does my awareness of Aaron, who’s probably sitting at the table directly above me. And that thought makes me even harder.
Fuck.
Earlier this evening at Prowl, guys were grinding their asses against me, draping themselves all over me.
My hands had been on their hips, my tongue in their mouths, our bodies moving like we were having sex rather than dancing and my dick had still been AWOL just like it’s been for the past several weeks.
But that’s not the case now.
Now, it’s standing tall and proud, acting as if it’s ready for some action, my body sparking to life as I trail my hand down my chest and across my abs.
Coarse hair flattens under my fingers as I follow my treasure trail lower and lower until I’m touching my cock.
I squeeze the base with my fingers, run my thumb along my length and graze it across my tip, hissing at how sensitive I am.
Even under the water, I’m slick with precum.
And, fuck, it feels good to give myself a couple of hard strokes, my blunt fingernails scraping across my balls every time my hand descends.
Before I give it too much thought, I’m jerking off, leaning against the shower tile, my breath coming hard and fast. I groan, and it echoes, so I bite my lower lip and hope Aaron didn’t hear me.
The thought that he might have makes my hips jut forward, my cock thrusting into my fist, my breathing turned harsh as every nerve ending in my body wakes up.
I am so turned on, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself even if I wanted to, and I come what would be embarrassingly fast if it wasn’t one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had.
Blinding in its intensity, my dick hard as a rock as I spill into my fist, my entire body tightens as a second wave hits me.
I rest my forehead against the tile, breathing hard as conscious thought returns. Was I too loud? Did my voice carry? Fuck. I can’t believe I did that with Aaron right upstairs.
My cheeks burn as I finish washing myself, but I can’t deny it’s really hot to think Aaron might have heard me.
That I might go upstairs to find him flushed, trying to hide that he’s aroused.
It would embarrass him, somehow I know that even though we haven’t spent enough time together for me to know him.
If Kit weren’t passed out on my couch, he’d want to leave—I’m sure of that, too—would have already done so except he wants to take care of Kit.
And, strangely, I find that thought—about how Aaron would put Kit’s needs before his own discomfort—the one that stays with me as I get out of the shower and put on a clean pair of sweats.
When I get back upstairs, Kit’s still asleep on the couch, and Aaron’s sound asleep at the table with his head resting on his arms. I pause a moment to take him in.
Although Zack and I spent less than an hour in each other’s company, I’ve looked at his social media pics enough to see the similarities between him and Aaron.
But where Zack was all toned muscle and carefully styled and sculpted perfection, Aaron is softer with unkempt hair that curls around his face and clothing that does nothing to show off his broad shoulders and narrow waist.
Especially not tonight.
I smile as I walk into the kitchen as quietly as I can and grab myself a beer from the fridge. Not wanting to disturb either Kit or Aaron, I drink it leaning against the counter, letting the alcohol and the aftereffect of my orgasm wrap me in a cozy glow.
It feels nice having people in my space.
I eye the huddled form on the couch. Okay, maybe not Kit.
He was pretty much an asshole as Avy, Min, Sash, and I were trying to get him out of the club, but given what Aaron said, I can maybe forgive him.
I know how much this situation has messed with my mind, I can only imagine what it’s like for Zack’s best friend and his brother.
Turning my attention to Aaron, that sense of warmth in my core grows stronger.
It’s nice having him here if only because he so clearly needed someone to watch over him for a bit.
The sense I get from him—especially given our conversation the day I asked him to tell me about Zack—is that he’s a caretaker, someone who makes sure everyone around him is safe before worrying about himself.
If that’s the case, Zack’s death must have done a number on Aaron, so I’m happy to give him some space to relax.
But it doesn’t mean anything. As soon as Kit is able to get on his feet, they’ll be out of my life.
I almost hear Ty’s voice in my head, “Sure, Nick, whatever you need to tell yourself.”
Fuck off, I tell that voice just as Aaron inhales deeply, snorts, then sits up. He rubs his eyes, clearly confused about where he is, and I push off the counter and walk over to the table.
“Want me to make a new one for you?” I ask as I reach for the mug of now cold coffee.
The confusion in Aaron’s expression morphs into something that looks like happiness and affection before he sits up all the way and rubs his face.
“Sorry about that,” he says. “It’s been a rough couple of days at work. Not to mention…”
“Yeah,” I say. “I can’t imagine.” I hold up the mug. “Do you want a fresh one?” Aaron nods and follows me into the kitchen. “I’ve also got beer, if you’d rather, or wine.”
Aaron laughs. “Alcohol would probably knock me right out again. I’ll stick with coffee.”
As I set about making another cup, I ask him, “So, how are you doing with everything?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aaron startle and wonder if anyone has asked him how he’s coping since Zack’s death. I suspect not.
He shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. “Some days are better than others. This…” he waves a hand toward the living room where Kit still lies immobile on my couch, “…is probably the worst so far.”
At that moment, Kit grumbles and rolls over.
He’s restless, pushing at the blanket and tossing his head, all the while making indistinct sounds.
It seems like he might be having a nightmare, and Aaron immediately goes to him, placing a gentle hand on Kit’s shoulder then tucking the blanket around him again once he settles.
When he returns to the kitchen, I hand him the freshly brewed coffee. “Maybe it’s time to get Kit some help,” he says.
“Maybe,” I say, but it’s not really any of my business. Except, when I really look at Aaron, I see how exhausted he is. “What about you?”
Aaron shrugs and looks down at the mug in his hands as if he just realized he’s holding it.
Without thinking, I reach out and lift his chin so he has no choice but to look at me. “Who’s taking care of you, Aaron?”
As soon as his eyes meet mine, everything around us fades into the background, and the only thing I know is the warmth of his skin under my fingertips, the slow part of his lips, the soft heat of his breath against my thumb as he exhales, and the pounding of my own heart.
His eyes are a beautiful mosaic of greens and golds with flecks of copper near the fathomless depths of his pupils.
They are full of pain, but as we stand together, something else flickers to life in them.
My body is still buzzing slightly from my orgasm, but as I touch Aaron for the first time, a different sensation takes me over.
It’s warmth and light, a settling of my thoughts as I draw in a deep breath.
Calm takes me over as I glance at Aaron’s lips.
I know what arousal feels like, attraction, desire, lust, all the stages of when I want someone, but this is different.
It’s like those moments when I would go home with Ty after school, and we’d walk into a house smelling of fresh-baked cookies or homemade bread, and I’d tell myself this is what home feels like, and wish I could move in with him and his family because my own was such a shitshow with the endless succession of my mom’s boyfriends.
It’s more than that, though, and I wish I was able to name it, but I’ve never felt anything like this before.
Aaron shifts, leaning into my hand. “No one,” he says as he closes his eyes, and it takes a beat of my heart to realize he’s answering my question about who takes care of him.
I want to kiss him, I realize. We’re near enough, it wouldn’t take much for me to touch my lips to his, but I don’t. With the gentlest of strokes to his jaw, I increase the distance between us and drop my hand, not understanding why my heart aches ever so slightly at the loss of contact.
“That’s not okay,” I say. “You need someone, too.”
There isn’t time for Aaron to reply because Kit lets out a groan and begins to retch.
“Fuck,” I say as I grab for the bowl I’d left on the counter for just this instance and run to the couch, Aaron a step behind me. He rolls Kit onto his side, rubbing his back and shoulders, while I position the bowl on the floor.
Between the two of us, we manage to keep Kit from aspirating on his own vomit without anything landing on my floor.
I’d like to say this is the first time I’ve had to do something like this, but a couple of my friends have no common sense when it comes to alcohol.
I’ll admit that I’ve been in Kit’s position more than a few times as well.
I don’t envy him the hangover he’s going to have when he wakes up.
Once Kit’s stomach is empty, I take the bowl away and wash it out in the sink, then come back with a wad of damp paper towels in the now clean bowl. Aaron has shifted positions so he’s behind Kit, arms wrapped around him. Kit’s still out of it.
“What do you think he took?” I ask as I hand Aaron the towels.
Aaron shakes his head as he takes them. “I have no idea. I’m hoping it was just molly and not something harder.
” He wipes the sweat from Kit’s face, then cleans his mouth.
I hold out the bowl so he can toss the towels in it, then pick up the bottle of Gatorade, twist off the top, and hand it to him so he can try to get Kit to drink something.
“He and Zack never got into the harder stuff, but I don’t know. This is so far beyond…”
Even though Aaron closes his eyes, I see the tears.
I’m moving before I know what I’m doing, squeezing myself behind him with my ass on the armrest, my legs straddling him.
I pull him against my chest. At first, he resists, but then he surrenders, turning his upper body to press his face into my belly.
When I wrap my arms around him, he lets out a shuddering breath, and it’s all I can do not to shiver in response.
This is not like me. I’m not the guy my friends turn to when they need comfort.
They don’t pour their hearts out to me or talk to me about issues with their boyfriends and girlfriends.
And I don’t either. Emotions are messy, and I don’t like feeling responsible for anyone else’s.
It’s why I prefer hookups. All my relationships have started with a casual encounter that became interesting enough to do multiple times.
But that’s all they were, and that’s why they all ended with partners telling me I didn’t care enough or pay enough attention to them.
“You check out as soon as feelings get involved,” one of my exes told me.
All of it is true and is why I am completely unprepared by how right it feels to have Aaron in my arms, to be giving him comfort, and how much I hate it when he pulls away.