Chapter 15 #2
Emmett also turned out to be the most handy with a first aid kit, which Melody had stashed in her bathroom cabinet.
She went in with him for better light, the door wide open, leaving Lincoln alone with Van.
A still-furious, vengeful Van. Water ran in the bathroom sink, and soft voices drifted out.
All Lincoln could do was sit on one side of the bed and stare at the wall.
And seethe.
Seethe for Melody’s terror and rage. For how degraded she must have felt. He seethed for the other women her date had probably attacked. He seethed for everyone who’d ever lost control and was still struggling to come out the other side.
“We’ve all got a story,” Van said quietly, his voice barely carrying from the other side of the bed. “Me. Melody. Emmett. You.”
He glared across the bed, unimpressed with Van’s composure. “Oh yeah? What’s your story?”
“I didn’t say I wanted to share, only that we all have one. Some wounds are just fresher than others. Closer to the surface.”
Lincoln turned around completely, irritated by the way Van seemed to look right inside him and see the bogeyman lurking deep down in the shadows. First Dominic stirred the pot, and now Van. Maybe if people stopped reminding him about it, Lincoln could fucking forget it was there at all.
Water ran in the tub and, less than a minute later, Emmett walked out, still drying his hands on a towel. At the moment, he seemed like the most put-together person in the room.
“It’s an ugly cut,” he reported. “And it’s probably going to leave a scar, unless she gets a medical professional to look at it, but the bleeding stopped.”
“Thank you,” Van said before Lincoln could.
“Of course. I barely know her, but she’s important to you guys.” Emmett said the final few words to Lincoln. “I’m sorry she was hurt.”
“Me too.” Lincoln got up, and Emmett met him halfway for a long, hard embrace. Their hearts beat wildly together, and Lincoln held on until he felt strong enough to let go.
Then he yanked Van over into an awkward three-way hug.
“We’ll get her through this,” Lincoln whispered. “All of us.”
While Melody bathed, Emmett helped Van change the sheets and shake out the top cover.
It was pretty awful, cheap hotel-grade stuff, but they did their best to tidy up.
And once Melody was dried off and dressed, all four of them piled onto the bed to watch TV.
The easy camaraderie between four people who’d all met in the last few weeks was a gentle balm on Emmett’s frazzled nerves.
Hearing about Melody’s ordeal had been awful, but Lincoln’s reaction to it had surprised him. He’d gone pale, as if personally affected by the events. And he’d overheard Van whispering about stories.
He tried to concentrate on whatever movie Van had chosen, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Lincoln, who lay restlessly between him and Melody, with Van bookending Melody’s other side.
He hated assigning the word to him, but Lincoln looked vulnerable.
More than anything, Emmett wanted to help him.
Troubled waters lay ahead, he knew for certain. He only hoped he was strong enough to be Lincoln’s bridge when the time came.
Lincoln texted someone, probably his other friends, letting them know not to worry.
He and Lincoln had to leave eventually, and when Van brought up giving them a ride home, Melody protested being left alone.
Van told her to pack up a few days’ worth of stuff, because he was taking her home with him.
She was ready in under five minutes.
It was after three in the morning by the time Van dropped them off at Beatrice’s house, and Emmett didn’t see the issue there until after he’d pulled out.
Lincoln headed right for the front door, seeming not to care that he was there instead of his own house.
They went to Emmett’s room, kicked off their shoes, and climbed into bed.
Emmett pulled Lincoln close and wrapped his arms around his waist, offering all of the silent support and comfort that he could. Lincoln trembled once, then relaxed into the embrace. “I’ve got you,” Emmett whispered.
“I know. Thank you.”
“I’m glad I was there to help.”
“Me too.” He pulled one of Emmett’s hands up to kiss his knuckles. “So much.”
Lincoln startled awake to a warm, heavy body pinning him down and wood pressing into the crease of his ass. The instant panic made his stomach squirm, and a shout formed in his lungs. Familiar scents of sweat and aftershave kept that shout from ripping loose.
Emmett. He went home with Emmett last night.
Everything with Melody came crashing back. Lincoln wanted to hide under the covers with Emmett forever. Only his too-full bladder started kicking, so Lincoln slid out from under Emmett and sneaked across the hall to the bathroom.
He didn’t have to peek at his reflection to know he looked like shit. He felt like shit, his emotions were shredded, and he needed more sleep. Water on his face didn’t do much for his sandy eyes.
Oh well.
Emmett was awake when he got back, absently running fingers through his tangled hair. “Hey,” he said, then cracked a yawn. “Morning. I think.”
Lincoln checked his phone, but the damn thing had died. “Shit.”
“My charger is on the nightstand.” Emmett dug his own phone out from under the covers. “Almost noon.”
“What? Fuck!” Lincoln regretted his shout the instant Emmett flinched. “Sorry. I missed saying good-bye to Dom and Trey. They had to be at BWI by eleven to board.”
“I’m sorry. If Van had taken you home, you’d have been there to say good-bye.”
Lincoln nearly agreed with that. Except he didn’t. His house was full of people and seriously lacking in privacy. Van had taken him exactly where he needed to be—someplace to be alone with his boyfriend to process last night.
“Maybe I’d have been there to say good-bye.” He climbed onto the bed and pushed Emmett flat, straddling his hips. “But then I wouldn’t be here with you. I needed you last night, and you were there for me.”
“I will be. Whenever you need me.”
“I know.” He scooted back, enjoying the sensation of Emmett’s hard dick against his own soft one. He rutted a bit, the friction making Emmett’s eyes light up and sending blood right where Lincoln wanted it. “You have too many clothes on.”
“So do you.”
Lincoln rolled off long enough for them both to get naked, then reassumed his kneeling position over Emmett’s hips. Their erections pressed together against Emmett’s belly, balls dragging. Lincoln jacked them both lightly. “What do you want, Em?”
Emmett shook his head. “What do you want?”
He wanted to fuck Emmett, but his stuff was back in his room. There were other ways to get off in a similar way, though, that didn’t require penetration. Until he got his hands on a damned condom, they’d have to get creative.
Lincoln slid down Emmett’s body and took him into his mouth, because for some reason he hadn’t done that yet today.
He worked Emmett until his thighs were trembling and he was a panting mess.
Then he rolled him onto his left side so Lincoln could curl up behind him.
He’d been messy enough that the tight space between Emmett’s closed thighs was damp and slick, and Lincoln slid his cock into that heat.
His head nudged at Emmett’s balls, making him gasp.
Then tense up.
He tilted Emmett’s head back and kissed his exposed throat. “I’m not going to penetrate you, I promise, Em.”
That tension bled away. “I know, sorry.”
“It’s okay. This is pretty close to the real thing without going there.”
“Yeah.” Emmett stroked his hip. “Make us both feel good.”
Lincoln set a slow, steady pace with his hips that he kept in time with his hand on Emmett’s cock, jerking him as he fucked between his thighs.
Rubbing against his balls and taint. Creating a perfect friction that sent pleasure spiraling out to all of Lincoln’s nerve endings.
They moved together, hands touching, pinching, stroking.
Sending them both higher and higher, cresting that wave.
Emmett spilled first with a soft gasp, then twisted his head to kiss Lincoln hard. He squeezed his thighs, and little lights winked behind Lincoln’s eyes. “How do you want to finish, Linc?”
He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted until he said it. “In your mouth.”
“Okay.”
Emmett untangled them, knelt by Lincoln’s hips, and sucked on the head of his cock.
The pressure made his hips jerk. When Emmett tongued the slit, his balls drew up tight.
Release so close. Then Emmett closed his pretty pink lips around Lincoln’s cock and slid down, taking him as deep as he could, and that was it.
He tried to shout a warning, but Emmett seemed prepared.
He swallowed the load with greedy gulps, then licked him clean, never losing a wicked smile that did funny things to Lincoln’s heart. Instead of cuddling with Lincoln, though, he sat next to his hip and traced circles around his navel.
“What are you thinking about?” Lincoln asked.
“Sex.”
The totally reasonable way Emmett said that made Lincoln laugh. “Shocking. Anything in particular about sex?”
“Well, I think Friday proved that I like being, um, penetrated, and I want you do that to me again. One day even fuck me.” He tilted his head, cheeks staining. “I guess I was wondering about you.”
His stomach flipped. “What about me in particular?”
“Do you like being touched there? Licked? Do you, ah, ever bottom?”
“Yes to all three. I love being fingered, I haven’t had a decent rim job in ages, and I do prefer to top, but I’m versatile in bed. I’ve been fucked.” His voice went strangely high on that last part, and Emmett noticed.
“But it’s not your favorite thing.”
Lincoln tried to shrug, but it was hard lying down, so he sat up. Drew his knees to his chest, which he knew was a defensive posture but he couldn’t seem to relax. “No, it’s not.”
“Okay. I mean, it seemed like something we should talk about. Right?”
“Definitely. Everyone has likes, dislikes, and hard limits.”
“Hard limits?”
“Lines they won’t cross. Usually those limits come into play with rougher sex, or if you’re experimenting. Trying BDSM or something. But for some people, a hard limit could be not being fucked. Not everyone enjoys it, giving or receiving.”
Emmett’s eyebrows shot up. “How could they not?”
The innocence in the question made Lincoln reach out and ruffle his messy hair. “We aren’t all wired the same, that’s all. Besides, sex is about feeling good together. Creating something amazing. Getting off. If you aren’t enjoying it, there’s no point.”
“Stop.”
“Get off.”
All of the sound got sucked out of the room on a whoosh, leaving dead silence ringing in Lincoln’s ears.
Phantom pain struck his skull, tiny hammers banging hard behind his eyes.
He heard his name, far away. A friendly voice come to take care of him.
And suddenly the pain wasn’t phantom; it was real.
Only it wasn’t in his head, but in his aching hands.
He’d made fists, and his fingernails were digging into his palms.
Clarity struck him all at once. Emmett holding him, soothing him, naked body pressed close. Murmuring supportive things. Lincoln forced his fingers apart and stroked the hand covering his heart.
“What the fuck was that?”
“I don’t know,” Emmett said. “You just . . . froze up. Got kind of gray. I thought you were going to pass out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What happened? Do you know?”
“No.” Lincoln twisted around so he could hug Emmett properly, arms around his waist, chest-to-chest. Chin on his shoulder. “I don’t know what that was.” He did know he hated that he’d been so weak in front of Emmett. That he’d let the bogeyman out again, even for a moment.
One moment was all it would take to fuck everything up.
Emmett kissed him gently on the mouth. “Come on. Let’s take a shower, and then get something to eat. Maybe you’ll feel better.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Lincoln checked his phone first.
Voice mail from Dominic sent a few hours ago.
“Hey, you, guess you didn’t make it home last night.
I hope everything worked out okay for your friend Melody.
I’m glad you had Emmett there to take care of you.
I wish you’d talk to me about what’s eating you, because I’ve known you long enough to see something clearly is.
If you won’t talk to me, at least talk to Emmett. Please. Love ya. Shout at me later.”
He deleted the message, then joined his boyfriend in the already hot shower with absolutely zero intention of talking about anything. Or thinking about it. All he wanted to do for a while was exist, and enjoy the good things in his life.
Because life had a bad habit of stealing his good things away.