twenty-four #2
The guilt is suffocating. I treated him as a monster when he came home with blood drying on his clothes, but he had literally just found out the truth about his family. He must have been in deep shock.
“I could. It’ll have to be someone I really trust, though. Evan maybe. He’s a genius with computers, and I trust him. I could get him to do some digging later. Peadar definitely can’t find out, though. If he does, then he will know I let Violet go.”
Leo sounds detached. I hate it, but I assume that is how he deals with things.
He dissociates himself from it, so it doesn’t hurt as badly.
“I can’t say I know exactly how you feel, but I kind of do. My mom didn’t die, but the nanny I was telling you about did. One day when I was nine, my dad told me that she had passed away, and she was no longer going to be our nanny.” I clear my throat, trying to dispel the sadness from the memory.
“Did he tell you what happened to her?” There is no contempt to his tone, only curiosity.
“No. I wanted to go to her funeral, but he wouldn’t let me.”
My eyes prickle with tears. I’d never begged for anything in my entire life.
I’d always been given anything I wanted without question.
This was the first time they had ever said no, and it was one of the most important things I had ever asked for.
“What the fuck? Why not?” Leo’s sudden outburst of anger over the story is strangely sweet. Like he wants to go back in time and protect a younger me from my father.
“I don’t really know. I was so upset. She was like a mom to me. I loved her so much. She taught me a lot that I still carry with me. I never got to say goodbye. I think about that a lot.”
I sigh at the memory, wishing I had one more day with her or at least knew what happened to her.
Now that I’m older, I can probably find out. I never thought to try.
“Yeah. I think that’s what hurts the most. I never got to say goodbye to her. I never got to ask her why she let me leave that day. She just allowed my dad to kick me out. I never knew why, and I have never been able to forgive her for that,” he says, his voice cracking.
He clears his throat, sniffling a moment later, and I can sense that he doesn't want to talk about it anymore.
We lie in silence for a moment as I continue my pursuit of memorizing every tattoo, freckle and scar littering his body.
“How did you get these scars?” I ask, tracing one on his rib cage.
Its light coloring is a harsh contrast to his tan skin.
The edges are rough, but the inside is smooth, and I find myself wondering what could have caused such a scar.
He looks relieved at the change of subject, his features smoothing out.
He watches me trace the scar for a few moments, almost as if he’s in a trance.
“Oh umm…” He blinks a few times, seeming to come back to reality.
“That one was from a knife I took to the ribs. It punctured my lung, but no other damage was done. Wasn’t so bad, I guess,” he answers.
It sounds so casual, as if he’s answering a question about the weather.
His tone is so normal for such an abnormal explanation.
“What?” I ask, my expression creasing with dismay.
I’m horrified by the answer. It must have been so scary and painful for him.
Did he get it in an altercation? Is there more to the story?
I have seen firsthand that Leo can throw a punch.
It’s so strange to actually imagine him in a fight, though.
Everything I had witnessed was more one-sided.
Does he fight dirty? I could see him being scrappy, using any means necessary to win.
“It’s okay. It happened a few years ago. Peadar has a bunch of doctors and surgeons on the payroll for that kind of thing. It hurt like a bitch, but I’ve had worse,” he shrugs, his fingers in the hair at the base of my neck, fiddling with a strand there.
It’s very relaxing. I could almost fall back to sleep, but I have more questions.
“That sounds really painful. What could be worse?”
My long fingers move to another scar on his bicep.
The whole morning is surreal, as if I am living the moment through a blurred camera filter.
The harsh lines of reality are smoothed out, imperfections long forgotten in the morning light.
This filter is different from the one I had on my life before I met Leo.
Maybe it’s because I have seen the world for what it is.
I know what lies outside of this moment.
“Well, that one is from a gunshot wound. The bullet just grazed me that time, though. Nothing too life threatening, so the knife was worse in a way. Knife wounds aren’t as clean, and a lot of the ones you see are knife wounds or burns. The burns sucked really bad. That is some of the worst pain.”
I nod as if I understand.
“That sounds painful,” I wince. I couldn’t imagine. “I sprained my ankle once and was limping for a week.” Leo looks down at me, a bemused expression painted on his features.
“I have had seven broken bones, but to be fair, one of those happened outside of work, when I was 18. I fell while doing a trick on my skateboard, and I broke my wrist. A few weeks later, I was also shot in the shoulder by one of Altieri’s men. That was a shitty month, but I made it through.”
Leo moves, and I grumble. Eventually I detach myself, allowing Leo to turn over and show me the scar on his back.
I don't know what I expected a bullet scar to look like, but his looks as though someone took their finger and pressed it hard into his shoulder, then the skin never bounced back to its previous state.
I can’t stop myself from lightly pressing my own finger into the divot, finding it rough on the outside and smooth in the middle. I never knew scars could be smooth.
“You were so young,” I murmur, my face so close to the mark, my breath ghosts over it.
“Yeah, but that’s okay. We were all young once, I suppose.” He shrugs, but before he can turn around, I lean down to kiss the scar on his shoulder.
“What was that for?” Leo asks, when he turns back around, looking me in the eyes.
“Because you didn’t have anyone to kiss it for you when it happened.” At 18, I was preparing for college, not getting shot. I couldn’t even imagine. Our lives have been so different.
“Can I suck your dick?” Leo asks, and my head spins from the sudden change in subject.
“Why?” I ask, but he is already moving. He pushes my shoulders against the headboard and situates himself between my legs.
“‘Cause I want to,” he responds with a smirk, and I have to roll my eyes. My cock is already hardening, though, the image of his firm pink lips wrapped around my shaft floating through my mind. I didn’t know I wanted it until he said it, and now I need it to happen.
“Didn’t think you would enjoy having something in your mouth. You talk so much, it seems like it would be a hindrance,” I quip, but there is no bite to it.
I suppress a smile as he peppers kisses down my neck, hands roaming all over my pale torso.
The tattoos on his arm glide over top of the muscles, bringing the tiny sketches to life.
“I don’t mind. Seemed you were doing quite a bit of talking yourself last night,” Leo responds, a wicked glint in his eyes.
It takes me a moment to figure out exactly what Leo is referring to, but when I do, my body heats with embarrassment.
I had almost forgotten that I let a curse word slip last night.
It wasn’t intentional. I am usually able to keep my composure, even during moments of passion, but something about him eating my cum made my brain short circuit.
“I guess I just figured out that sometimes, there are literally no other words to describe a feeling. Maybe cursing isn’t low class. Maybe it’s being in moments where life is so high, there are no words to describe it except for ‘fuck’.”
The word is so foreign on my tongue that I almost swallow it back down.
It’s worth it to see the reaction on Leo's face, his mouth forming a small ‘o’.
“Jesus that just made me so hard,” Leo murmurs, and I laugh because that has to be a joke. I quickly realize that it wasn’t a joke though because Leo attacks my chest in a frenzy, teeth grazing over my nipple, making me squirm. My cock twitches again, warm and now hard beneath the sheets.
“I’ll have to remember that.” The words hitch with my breath when Leo grabs my cock with a warm hand.
My eyes roll back in my head, the feeling so good I don't exactly know how to process it.
He definitely knows what he’s doing. Last night was probably the best sex I have ever had, so there is no denying his skill.
I am addicted to it already, but I will have to quit cold turkey soon. This arrangement won’t last forever.
“Gonna suck you off, then I’ll go get us some breakfast. Whatever organic, non-dairy shit you want. I don’t care. I just need your dick in my mouth. I need to taste you again. Please, can I taste you again?”
His features are desperate, as if he needs my cock to continue living.
I get it. If I don't get my cock in his mouth soon, I may actually die. I nod, at a loss for words.
With my permission, he ducks down under the duvet, covering his head completely.
I can’t see what he’s doing, but I can certainly feel his sure hand stroking my cock to full hardness.
I moan, placing his feet flat on the bed, my knees creating a tent around him to hopefully make it easier for him to breathe.
The anticipation of what he’s going to do is driving me crazy.
I don't know when he is going to use his mouth.
I don't know if Leo is going to massage my balls or lick the tip of my cock.
“Leo. Please,” I whine when cool air is blown across my slit.
Asking nicely pays off because he licks the same spot.
The warm wetness is a direct contrast to the cool dryness of his breath, and I jump, biting back another moan.
I can’t see him, but his cheeky smile curves right against my thigh, lips already leaving my cock.
I miss them, but it’s not long before they are back, taking me deep.
“Shhi…” The curse word trails off as I squirm, hearing an audible pop when my cock leaves his mouth.
In place of his hot mouth, he blows cool air on my tip.
I fist my hands above where I know his head is to stop myself from grabbing it and pushing him down on my cock again.