Chapter 10 – Age 27 #2
Twenty minutes later, he was racing into his apartment, excitement zinging through him.
He had given Tor his door code when he moved in and he never stopped getting a thrill from finding him in his shower or in his bed or on his couch.
When that happened, he lied to himself and pretended that this was his life, that he regularly got to come home to his person doing regular, everyday things.
That night, Tor was waiting for him in the entryway, eyes on fire, and Jule’s entire body went molten hot.
He couldn’t get a word out before Tor was on him.
Pressing him against the door with a palm firmly caging his throat.
Kissing him with a harsh ferocity that pierced his lip and stole his breath.
Grabbing him through his pants with enough pressure to make him cry into Tor’s mouth.
Grappling with his button and zipper and then his own so he could press their dicks together.
Hands on his face, his neck, his hair, while he rocked against him, thrusting and groaning.
And the entire time, kissing him with such desperation that Jule wasn’t sure he’d survive it and yet he never wanted it to end.
In under a minute, they were grunting, and coming, and heaving for air.
And then Tor pressed his face into his neck and laughed, Jule joining him.
“Fuck, that was embarrassing,” Tor said as he peppered gentle kisses along Jule’s jawline.
“You were faster than that time you beat me in the hundred-meter dash,” Jule replied, voice breathless and amused.
“Hey, now, that’s a lie.” Tor pressed his fingertips into his sides, tickling him. “My dash was under eleven seconds.”
“Two-hundred-meter?” Jule said between chuckles.
“That performance lasted at least as long as a four hundred. Give us some credit.” Tor grinned at him.
“What was your time in the four hundred?” Jule asked, eyebrows raised in challenge. He knew the answer.
“Get fucked, Julie. You didn’t make it fifty seconds either!”
“Gladly.” Jule wove his hands through Tor’s hair, tugged him forward so their foreheads pressed together, and lowered his voice to a more serious tone. “I missed this, Tori.”
“Come on now. I know you can do better than don’t-blink-or-you’ll-miss-it, practically fully dressed, still standing by the door sex.”
“I actually can’t.” He skimmed his knuckles down Tor’s neck.
“At least not with anyone else.” Sex with Tor was phenomenal.
Any kind of sex. “I get more out of jerking off to memories of you than I do from being with anyone else, so I don’t bother trying anymore.
” But as much as he craved Tor’s body, he missed his presence in his life, his complicated insights, his dry humor, he missed his company most of all.
“Besides, that’s not what I meant.” He looked into Tor’s eyes as he spoke, hoping he’d take that opening and they could have a conversation about their situation.
It wasn’t sustainable and Jule needed Tor to acknowledge that and work with him to solve it.
“It was really good sex.” Tor cupped his hands around both sides of Jule’s neck and caressed him with his thumbs. “How is it always this good?”
“Maybe because we don’t see each other enough for it to get stale,” he answered, refusing to let the topic go, even if he sounded bitter. Honest, but bitter.
“That sounds like a complaint.” Tor chuckled, but it sounded strained, like he was trying to keep the conversation light but knew Jule wasn’t going to let that happen. He focused on Jule’s pants, tucking him away carefully and then zipping and buttoning. “Are you hoping for stale sex?”
“I’m hoping for you.”
“You have me.” Tor was doing up his own jeans, which meant he was still not looking Jule in the face, which stabbed at his self-control.
“Bullshit.” He clutched Tor’s shirt and flipped their positions, slamming Tor against the door.
“Jule,” he warned, finally looking him in the eyes.
“No, don’t do that.” Still gripping his shirt, he shook him.
“Don’t tell me I’m not allowed to get mad.
I’m so sick of this shit. You show up when you feel like it, leave the same way, and disappear for months at a time.
You never tell me what you’re doing. I know nothing about your life except what I can see on your body, because on top of all the rest of this bullshit, you’re always hurt in some new way.
” He yanked Tor’s shirt up, knowing what he’d find and seeing confirmation littered on his skin.
“I see the bruises, the healing scars, but I can’t ask about them, right?
Because if I do, you’ll fuck off to wherever it is you go and I’ll have to deal with it because what choice do I have, right?
” He yanked him forward and slammed him back again.
“I have no way to get ahold of you, no way to talk to you until you decide to grace me with your presence. How is that fair?” he shouted.
“It’s not,” Tor said, voice quiet. Jule’s heart was still beating at a rapid clip, worked up from his rant.
He had expected Tor to push back, yell at him.
He wasn’t prepared for a calm acknowledgement, though he should have expected exactly that.
Unlike him, Tor never lost his temper. “What do you want?” Tor asked him.
“I want…” He had no idea how to answer that question.
He’d never thought beyond his frustration and resentment about their situation.
What could he have with Tor? He now had a rap sheet longer than Tyson’s and seemed to have no interest in changing his lifestyle.
Any public relationship with Tor very well could mean the end of his job and almost certainly would mean the end of his relationship with his mother and grandparents, both of which he was willing to accept, but that wasn’t their biggest barrier.
The real issue was that Tor was hiding from his murderous father who law enforcement hadn’t apprehended but had helpfully confirmed would kill anyone he considered a threat or even tangential to a threat.
If he and Tor lived their lives together openly, they’d both be at risk from John Jones, along with their families.
Jule couldn’t have what he wanted, not with this man.
But all he wanted was a life with this man.
The fight drained out of him. “I want to know you, Tori,” he finally said, even though that barely scratched the surface. “I’m sick of the walls and the secrets.”
“You’re the only one who does,” Tor whispered, palm on his cheek. “I only exist with you.”
“Tor,” he begged, his heart aching.
“These stolen days when I come here, they’re the only times I’m me.
Making dinner with you or fighting over the last slice of pizza.
Watching whatever reality show you pretend you’re not into.
Gaming. Hearing about your cases. You think that you don’t know me, but you’re the only person who knows me.
Everything out there—” He waved his hand in the direction of the door.
“I do for survival. None of that is real. None of that is me. The only time I exist is when I’m here with you, Jule. ”
How the fuck was he supposed to respond to that. “Dammit, Tori.” He looked up at the ceiling and blinked away the moisture in his eyes. “You kill me.”
“I wish it could be different.”
When Jule lowered his gaze and looked at Tor’s face, he knew he meant those words. “Me too.”