Chapter 13
Thirteen
He stared down at the toy on his lap. It was still in the packaging. He was going to be using it in a few hours, so it needed to be sterilized and examined. When the user won the bid to send him the sleeve, Rami sat with it for hours, playing with it in his hands, studying the weight and feel of it so nothing would feel like a surprise.
It took him weeks to start another live to use it. Weeks, in fact, which led to the one after he met Skye and everything changed. He wondered if there would ever be another user besides Skye who won bids like this.
Surely not for the physical things he was promising. The first cock he sucked would be Skye’s. The first tongue inside him would be Skye’s. And maybe the first fingers and first dick. He shuddered at the thought as he finally tore open the plastic and lifted the dildo into his hands.
It wasn’t what he was expecting. He thought Skye would go with something complicated, full of buttons and lights and vibrations in weird colors. The flesh of it was the same color as Skye’s skin—though his cock was redder and darker when it was hard.
But there were no bells and whistles. Just thick, heavy silicone and a suction cup at the base that easily popped off with a push and twist.
He stared at his fingers holding it, at the contrast of his skin, and he thought about the way it looked when he touched his lover. He thought about the feel of Skye’s warmth beneath his palms and the way he shuddered like he wanted to be touched by Rami in spite of being touched all the time by other people.
He had a way of making Rami feel like he was the only man in the world, and that was as terrifying as it was thrilling. It was like a landslide—crashing through his life without warning or any way to stop it. It was destructive and yet oddly beautiful. Whatever was going to come after, Rami knew he would be changed, and for the first time ever, that didn’t make him want to turn and run.
Standing up, he moved to the kitchen, where he had his pot ready for the toys he was sent. It was a strange thought. Never in a million years had he thought he would be doing this in his grandfather’s house.
“Astaghfar,” he muttered quietly, though it wasn’t so much Allah’s forgiveness that he wanted than his grandfather’s. “Jiddi,” he murmured aloud, “would you want this for me right now if you were here?”
The answer was no. His grandfather wouldn’t. He knew that for a fact. But then again, if he’d been alive, Rami wouldn’t be in this position.
But he’d never really doubted this decision. He’d been given his body for a reason, and maybe this wasn’t his purpose in life, but it gave him an edge over others that drew an audience. It provided him what he needed.
He couldn’t really find the sin in that. At least not the social-moral sin. Religion had always baffled him, so he never took that into account. Of course, some days, he wished he could be the person his parents wanted. That he could be a good Muslim boy who liked girls growing up and had a plain job that earned a paycheck. He could have a happy, quiet marriage with kids and a house and not fuss about every single tiny thing that crossed his path.
It would be less exhausting to not fight his brain every waking moment. To not be consumed when things simply felt wrong or when his routine was disturbed.
But that was in direct opposition to the fact that in spite of it being harder, Rami still liked himself. He liked being weird. He liked making art and being able to get lost in his thoughts like he was slipping into another universe.
He wouldn’t trade it for anything most days.
And now that he’d found a man who liked him as he was, he was feeling even less keen to be anything other than the collection of atoms the universe had gathered together to make him who he was.
He jumped half a foot when his phone started to buzz, and for a moment, he grinned, thinking it would be Skye. But it wasn’t. Ahmed was sending him a FaceTime request. His stomach sank. It felt like another ambush, but he was feeling so alone and cut off from his family it was impossible to ignore him.
A chance to see one of them, even for a minute?
He swiped the button to answer, then turned the screen away from the stove so Ahmed couldn’t accidentally catch a glimpse of what was in the boiling water. His brother’s face appeared on his screen, his office wall visible in the background.
‘Hi.’
Ahmed gave him the brotherly glare of disapproval. ‘Is that all you have to say?’
‘What else do people say when they answer a call?’
“Rami,” Ahmed said aloud. That was one of only a few words his brother ever vocalized.
With a sigh, he leaned against the counter. ‘Why are you calling?’
‘Because Mama cried,’ Ahmed signed, his brows dipped low.
Rami felt his guts clench. ‘About me?’
‘She thinks she and Baba said something wrong and hurt you. Yara said she tried to call you, but you wouldn’t answer.’
Rami tried to remember the last time his sister called. Weeks ago. Maybe a month. He’d been in the middle of a live, so he hadn’t seen it until after it was over, and he was too overwhelmed to talk to her once it was done.
By the time he remembered, it was too late, and he didn’t want to be forced to lie. This was hard enough.
‘No one upset me. I’m busy.’
‘With your art?’ Ahmed asked. His hands were full of sarcasm, and that hurt. He knew his siblings loved him—and so did his parents—but there would always be a slight disdain whenever they spoke about his job. It must have shown on his face, though, because Ahmed’s face fell. ‘I’m sorry.’
Rami shook his head. ‘I can’t talk long. I have to go.’
‘Please,’ Ahmed signed quickly. ‘Just call them. Please. If they didn’t upset you?—’
‘I can’t.’ He swallowed heavily. ‘I’m trying to work on some stuff at the house, and I’m…’ He hesitated. He couldn’t tell the truth, but he also didn’t want to lie any more than he already had. ‘I’m seeing someone.’
Ahmed’s eyes went wide. ‘A man?’
Rami nodded. He was gay. He’d come out years ago, so of course it was a man. He braced himself.
‘Do you think they’ll be angry? They know you don’t date women,’ Ahmed signed quickly.
Rami’s gaze darted away as he gathered his breath. ‘I want to bring him home to meet everyone. He’s deaf.’
Ahmed brightened and leaned in closer to his screen. ‘Deaf? Like me?’
Rami shook his head. ‘He’s losing his hearing. Learning ASL. He’s not very good. He prefers talking, but he’s trying.’
Ahmed still looked thrilled. ‘I want to meet him.’
‘Soon,’ Rami promised. That was vague enough, wasn’t it? Soon could be any number of days, or weeks, or months. ‘I need more time.’
‘Can I tell them that you’re not going to call soon?’
Rami bit his lip, and after a long beat, he nodded. ‘I promise I will though.’ More ambiguity, but he could live with that over a complete untruth.
Ahmed nodded. ‘Call me more, at least. Please. Let me know you’re okay.’
Rami managed a smile. ‘I’m okay. I’m happy.’
Cocking his head to the side, his brother studied him, then looked satisfied. ‘Okay. But if he hurts you, the whole family will come for him. Make sure he knows that.’
Rami felt a soft, aching pulse in his chest. He missed them. Ah, he missed them so much. He couldn’t keep this up for long. He needed to do more and quickly. He had to get his bills paid and end this so he could have his house, and get his family back to the way it was, and maybe carve out a space for Skye too.
“Rami,” Ahmed said aloud. Rami looked at him. ‘You know that, right? We won’t let anyone hurt you.’
‘I know. Thank you.’ And he meant that.
They hung up quickly after that, and Rami felt a small pulse of regret for not asking how his brother was doing, but he didn’t want the call to get any longer. He didn’t want Ahmed to ask more questions that Rami couldn’t give the answers to.
So he’d live with this feeling in his chest for a little while longer. It wasn’t ideal, but for the first time, it felt like there was some promise that everything was going to work out.
“Did you try it?”
Rami startled when warm arms wrapped around his waist. He’d been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t heard Skye come up behind him. Taking a breath, he leaned back into his lover’s arms and followed his gaze to the bed, where the dildo package was still lying spread out on the covers.
“No. I boiled it.”
“You—oh.” Skye laughed and kissed him on the side of the neck. “Good call. I always forget that’s a thing.”
Rami quickly turned to look at him. “You don’t sterilize?”
Skye’s grin lit up his face, and he kissed Rami again like he couldn’t help it. “We have someone do that for us, sweetheart.”
“Very spoiled,” Rami murmured.
Skye laughed again and tilted Rami’s chin to the side so he could kiss his lips. “Mm. I suppose I am. In a lot more ways now than I was before.”
It took Rami a second to realize what he was implying, and when he did, his body jolted. “I…you think I spoil you?”
“Very much.” Skye’s face was full of the blunt honesty Rami preferred, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with that admission.
He licked his lips, then muttered, “Thank you,” before breaking away.
Skye let him go, and Rami could feel his eyes on him as he began to clear up the trash. He shoved everything into the little bin beside his bed, then carefully tugged the sheets and comforter into their correct positions. He fluffed the pillows, then grabbed his laptop and attached the webcam to the top before positioning it on his desk.
He knew the setup by heart, but it felt strange to be watched this time. He was self-conscious of every move and was doing his best not to second-guess what he’d been doing for a while now. Skye wasn’t there to judge him.
Skye was there to watch him and then to bring him back down to earth when it was all over.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Skye asked once Rami was done.
He was standing in the middle of the room, letting himself work through his stims, his body relaxing a fraction with each sway of his arms.
“No,” he said. “I always get anxious before a live.”
“Sorry, sweetheart. I can’t understand you when you’re moving your head like that.”
Rami turned and didn’t want to stop stimming, so he raised his hands instead and repeated himself in sign as he continued to move.
“Got it. Is there anything I can do?”
‘No,’ Rami signed. Then he stopped. It always felt weird when he went still after so much movement. It was like his body had been buzzing, and now, it was completely silent. He took a breath, then walked over and stood in front of Skye. “I want you to bid on me.”
Skye blinked at him. “Bid on you?”
Rami bowed his head and let out a trembling breath. “I know I have no right to ask?—”
“Sweetheart,” Skye said, touching Rami’s chin and drawing his gaze up. “You have every right to ask me anything you want. You’re my boyf—uh. We’re…we have a thing.”
“Boyfriend,” Rami said.
Skye swallowed heavily. “We’ve only been on two official dates.”
“Three. I count you coming over here as three.”
Skye rolled his eyes and grinned. “Fine. Three. We’ve only been on three dates.”
Rami wrung his hands in front of his chest, feeling a little distressed. “I don’t understand. Is there…is there a rule I don’t know about? Is there a time limit we have to reach before we can be boyfriends? I’m sorry it’s so confusing for me. I’ve never done this, and I don’t want to break any rules, but?—”
“Wait.” Skye reached out and took him by the hips. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to follow rules or some timeline. We feel how we feel. I just didn’t want you to rush into anything you’re not ready for.”
“If you don’t want to date other people, and I don’t want to date other people, why wouldn’t I be ready?”
Skye’s smile widened. “When you put it that way, I sound like a fool, don’t I?”
“Never,” Rami whispered, then signed it so he didn’t miss the word.
Skye closed his eyes in a slow blink, then reached up and curled his hands around the sides of Rami’s jaw. “Be my boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
Skye kissed him long, slow, and careful. Not enough to get his cocks hard, but enough to spark the heat that would soon become an inferno. “Okay, boyfriend. You can ask me for anything you want.”
Rami liked that word. A lot. It made him curl his toes into the carpet, and he let out a happy hum. “Boyfriend.”
“Again.”
Rami’s smile made the word sound strange with his lips stretched, but he said it anyway. “Boyfriend.”
Skye nodded. “What do you want me to bid on?”
“Everything,” Rami said. He licked his lips and glanced around. “I want to be done with this. I miss my family, and I want to be with you. If—if you like watching me, I could do stuff for you. But just you. When this is all over, I want to get back to my art, and I want to stop worrying that the county is going to come take the house.”
“And you won’t just take money from me, will you?”
Rami clenched his jaw and shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Not yet,” Skye repeated. He looked thoughtful. “You know about history, right?”
“A lot about history,” Rami said.
“Art history.”
Rami felt anxiety crawl up his spine along with joy because he loved—loved—talking about art history. He loved losing himself in the words, sharing every single fact he knew. But that was the fastest way to drive people away from him.
He swallowed heavily. “Probably too much.”
“I doubt it could ever be too much,” Skye said softly. “But you know about patrons, obviously.”
“Renaissance artists had them. Actually, a lot of artists…well, a lot of professions had them. There’s a long history behind it.” He clamped his jaw shut quickly, but Skye just swooped down and kissed him.
“Right. Sometimes it was business. Sometimes patrons were rich old men who didn’t have the talent they wanted, so they became obsessed with people of a lower class who did.”
“Yes,” Rami said. There was more to it than that, but he liked that Skye knew even that much.
“I’d wager that sometimes—maybe not often, but every now and again—there was an income or class disparity, but the two of them fell in love despite that. And one took care of the other.”
“Like a modern-day stay-at-home spouse,” Rami said.
Skye let out a trembling breath. “Mm. Or a partner who adores their significant other and wants to do everything in his power to give him what he can so he can follow his dreams.”
“I understand what you’re trying to say,” Rami told him. “I…I want to finish this. If I give up now, it’ll feel like the sacrifices I made were for nothing. And I don’t mind the idea of people watching me as long as you are too.”
Skye sucked in a breath and nodded. “I will be.”
“But I want you to be the one to bid tonight. I want you to win the bid. Please.”
“I can win the bid,” Skye vowed.
“Even if it’s more than?—”
“I don’t care how much it is,” Skye interrupted him. “If it’s more than you need, you can take me out to dinner.”
Rami burst into a fit of laughter, burying the sound against Skye’s front. “Yeah, okay.”
“Repeat?”
Rami lifted his head and repeated himself through his smile.
Skye’s grin matched his own. “What am I bidding on next?”
“Tonight,” Rami said. “While I’m using your toy, you have to be in the other room. It’ll be for the person to choose how I come. Any way they want me to.” Rami cupped Skye’s half-hard cock through his pants and rubbed. “Any way they fantasize about.”
“Shit.”
“If you don’t want?—”
“I want,” Skye said in a rush, cutting him off. “Sweetheart, I really, really want.”
Rami swallowed thickly, both of his cocks now hard and throbbing. “The live after that will be to fuck me. I need you to win that too.”
“Consider it done,” Skye vowed. “And then it’ll be over?”
“Yes.”
With Skye’s money, Rami was already close. With the way his viewers would drive up the other bids, he would meet his goal and then some. He’d be okay, exactly like he wanted. Only better, because it would be Skye. Because he’d get to keep this after it was all over.
Skye tugged him close again, leaning in, and they kissed until Rami’s alarm went off. He broke off reluctantly, then took a step back. “I have to start the live.”
“And I have to start my laptop because I will be damned—in the literal sense—if I let anyone else get to choose anything else for you.”
“I like that,” Rami told him.
Skye gripped him by the chin—hard, possessive, and perfect. “So do I. Have fun with that tonight, sweetheart. But remember while you’re on the video, however good it feels on your own, I’m going to make it feel even better after.”
Rami’s whole body shook with a tremor. “I like you.” I love you . Those were the words he wanted to say, but as much as Skye told him they were doing this on their own terms, he was going to wait for that. He needed to be sure—to know it wasn’t just because Skye was the first person who was good to him.
He had enough already. He could be patient for that—and for everything else that was to come.