Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Aunt Beatrice dropped them off at Lincoln’s house Tuesday afternoon, deciding by some silent mutual agreement that Emmett needed alone time with his boyfriend—which worked out perfectly, because Roxy had texted earlier that she was working a double and wouldn’t be home until eleven.
Emmett flopped onto the sofa, limbs askew, still kind of confused about the entire arraignment process. Movies had given him false expectations of giant courthouses, crowds of paparazzi, flashbulbs, and people with handmade signs. He’d seen exactly one reporter before going inside.
He hadn’t been sure what he’d feel when he saw Chandler Gunn led into the courtroom by the deputy.
Anger had been there in spades, but Emmett no longer saw the cocksure football player who pinned him to lockers and threatened to shove baseball bats up his ass.
He saw a guy who forced his swagger, whose eyes weren’t as confident as his posture.
He saw a guy who’d been caught.
The prosecutor spoke the most, offering up evidence and witness statements.
Pete Monroe was called to make his statement about the night of the fire.
No one called Emmett to speak, and he was told later that his words would hold more weight at the sentencing hearing, which would be scheduled for a later date, after the judge had time to sort through the evidence.
In the end, Chandler Gunn pled guilty to three counts of aggravated assault and one count of arson. The judge accepted the plea, and that was that. Emmett walked out slightly nauseated, but also relieved that Chandler was safely in lockup until sentencing.
One reporter had approached them on the walk to the car, and Emmett had stopped long enough to look into the local news camera and say, “I’m thankful the truth has finally come out, and that perhaps my family can find peace.”
He’d slept on the ride back, his head in Lincoln’s lap, so he didn’t have to talk about it. He wouldn’t know what to say.
Lincoln puttered around in the kitchen before returning with two beers. “I think we deserve these, especially you.”
Emmett clinked his bottle’s neck against Lincoln’s.
He’d taken a Xanax that morning, hours ago, so one beer should be okay.
He sucked down the cheap, yeasty liquid.
Lincoln rearranged them so that he was leaning against the corner of the couch, with Emmett lounging on his chest, their free hands tangled together over Emmett’s belly.
They didn’t talk for a while. They drank their beers and Emmett enjoyed the simplicity of sitting in silence with his boyfriend. Of being cared for without asking.
“I thought I would feel more today,” Emmett said. “About the hearing.”
“I don’t think anyone expects you to feel any certain way. It’s pretty huge, them finally putting Chandler behind bars.”
“I know it is. Maybe that’s why it feels weird to be so calm. Shouldn’t I be celebrating or something?”
“Hmmm.” Lincoln’s thumb caressed his palm.
“Know what I think? I think you are such a sensitive, caring human being that you can’t celebrate another person going to prison.
You want justice, but you don’t want to cause another person pain, and prison probably won’t be a fun place for a guy like Chandler. ”
“What kind of guy is that?”
“Soft. After the thing with my parents, and after my collarbone healed, I moved to Philly to make my own way. I lived in some dumps, and I saw a lot of shit. I learned how to protect myself. I taught myself how to look at a guy and know if he was someone who’d take a swing, or who’d duck for cover. Chandler? He’d duck.”
“So would I.”
“So would a lot of people.”
“Not you.”
He felt Lincoln’s shrug. “Before the accident? No, I’d have come out swinging, especially to protect someone I care about. But now? I have to be a lot more careful.” Lincoln laughed. “I can’t afford to get hit in the head anymore.”
That dinged Emmett’s guilt bell hard.
“That being said.” Lincoln put his empty beer bottle on the floor, then flattened both his palms over Emmett’s lower belly. “I will do everything I can to protect what’s mine.”
Heat surged through Emmett, a heady mixture of arousal and joy that made his dick take notice of the hot guy in proximity. “Oh yeah?”
“You up to it?”
He pushed one of Lincoln’s hands lower so he could feel his growing erection. “What do you think?”
Lincoln rubbed him through his dress slacks until he was fully hard and alternately pushing up into Lincoln’s palm and rutting his ass against Lincoln’s own thickening cock.
Lincoln kissed along his jaw and throat, licking and nibbling, while his free hand pinched at Emmett’s nipples.
Emmett gasped and writhed, loving the way Lincoln played his body so perfectly.
Creating an achingly slow buildup to what Emmett knew would be a deafening crescendo.
“Please,” Emmett whispered.
Lincoln nipped his earlobe. “Please what?”
Emmett wasn’t entirely certain what he wanted until the words slipped out. “I want you in me.”
The talented hands strumming notes on his body stilled.
Emmett twisted his neck, his own words burning brightly inside of him, setting off a need that wouldn’t be quenched by anything other than what he’d asked for.
Lincoln’s unprotected eyes gleamed with desire and need and something so tender that Emmett’s heart rolled over completely.
“Are you sure?” Lincoln asked. “Absolutely sure? This is your limit, babe, and I don’t want you to regret it.”
“I’m positive.” He rolled over so they were chest-to-chest, hard cocks grinding together through layers of fabric. He showed Lincoln how ready he was with a long, lazy kiss. Slow licks into Lincoln’s mouth, a gentle chase of tongues. Maybe a soft bite or two.
They kissed until Lincoln’s hands were cupping Emmett’s ass, squeezing his cheeks, encouraging him to rut.
At some point they’d slid further down the couch, so Lincoln was flat on his back, his legs hitched up around Emmett’s hips, Emmett rocking into him.
They’d only ever made out the other way around, and Emmett enjoyed his chance to be the dominant one.
To cage Lincoln with his arms and suck a mark on the cord of his neck.
Until something changed. Lincoln’s arms and back had gone stiff, and when Emmett looked up, his eyelids were pressed shut.
“Crap, is it a migraine?” Emmett sat up, careful not to jostle him too much. “Do you need a pill?”
“Not a migraine.” Lincoln didn’t open his eyes or relax. “Sorry, give me a second.”
Unsure what was happening, or how to fix it, Emmett went into the kitchen and poured a glass of water.
When he returned to the couch, Lincoln was upright, knees drawn tight to his chest. He sipped the water Emmett offered, then put the glass on the side table.
Emmett watched him from the other end of the couch, uncertain of his footing here.
Lincoln hadn’t frozen up because he was in pain.
It was something else, and he had no idea how to ask.
“I’m sorry,” Emmett said.
Lincoln blinked at him. “For what?”
“If I did something. If I caused . . . whatever this weirdness is.”
“Believe me, Em, it’s nothing you did. It was something I did. Or several somethings. One bad decision piled on top of another, because I felt sorry for myself.”
Emmett wanted to reach out and hug Lincoln, but he looked like one loud noise might send him bolting to another room. So he stayed put. “Tell me about it?”
“It’s not that big a deal.”
“Linc, if it’s still eating at you and making you tense up, then it’s a big deal. Please? I’ve put so much of my personal crap on your shoulders. Let me carry something for you.”
For one brief moment, Lincoln looked ready to burst into tears.
Then his expression cleared, going eerily blank.
“Dominic and Trey were supposed to visit Memorial Day weekend. They’d negotiated the time off to relax, and I missed my best friend.
We’d lived in each other’s back pockets for four years, making XYZ work, and suddenly he was always gone, on tour with Trey.
I was happy for him, but I was crazy jealous, because he was out living our dream, and I couldn’t even strum my guitar without falling over.
I was really looking forward to seeing him. And then Dom canceled the visit.”
“You were upset.”
Lincoln nodded. “I was mad, but mostly I felt sorry for myself. I wanted to feel normal, so I decided fuck it all and went to Off Beat.”
“That was a week before we met.”
“Yeah.” His eyes brightened briefly. “I also met Melody that night. She tried hitting on me to buy her a drink, and I told her she wasn’t my type.
So we guy-watched together and I got a little hammered.
A lot hammered. I’d taken my depression meds later in the day than usual, plus four beers, and I wasn’t making great decisions. ”
Warning bells started ringing in the deep recesses of his mind, where Emmett saw a potential conclusion to this story that put all of his protective instincts on high alert.
“At some point this super-hot guy named Tom came over and we started flirting. We both agreed we were looking for a good fuck, so I brought him back here. He sucked me off, and drunk brain decided it was only fair to let him fuck me. Not my favorite thing, but the mix of alcohol and sex was starting to give me a godawful migraine, which was fucking with my head, so I wasn’t thinking super clear.
I tried to tell him to slow down, not go so hard. ”
He shivered, his gaze shifting to various points around the room, avoiding Emmett completely. “That’s when I realized he wasn’t wearing a condom.”
Emmett’s stomach churned with acid.