Nathaniel
I’M SO CONFUSED THAT I could scream. The desire to find something solid to slam my fist into is overwhelming, but with Landon sleeping next to me so peacefully, I’m too scared to move.
Why? Why am I against disturbing him? Nothing makes sense anymore.
The way he was last night, resembling a wounded, wild animal, has thrown me for a loop. Now I’ve seen a side of Landon that is too human, too real, and I’m finding it hard to match it up with the larger part of him that I know.
The part that has me wanting to destroy him.
But he sniffles softly in his sleep as his head rests against my shoulder, completely immobilizing me. He’s still dressed only in his briefs, the tight black fabric emphasizing the gentle pink flush his skin shows after he’s slept for so long.
Soft brown hair is pressed against his forehead and sticking up against the pillow; his hands rest against his chest as he curls up on his side.
Landon looks peaceful. He looks young and soft. Which, to be fair, he is young. Much younger than I am.
But I’m still startled by how innocent he appears in his sleep—like the kind of boy who wouldn’t hurt a bunny.
I wish I could forget what I saw last night. I wish I hadn’t comforted him or let him off the hook so easily after he tortured me with that cock sleeve.
Sure, I could have removed it at any point, but the audacity of slipping it onto my dick in the first place was already, in and of itself, enough to make me want to beat him.
No way was I admitting defeat in front of him. I will not back down or give him any sort of ammunition against me.
And then he went and threw me for a loop, giving me just that: something to use against him. Clearly, Landon has something eating him up inside, and even though he didn’t specifically tell me what it is, he got vulnerable with me.
Landon also hates it when I’m not around, I’m realizing. My not traveling to California this weekend truly upset him, which I find odd. When I do go, all I do is fuck him hard or torture painful orgasms out of his body.
I haven’t even asked him about his gift of coercion in weeks, and I definitely haven’t asked about his mysterious uncle.
Any day now, the council will be reaching out, demanding answers or insisting on sending a different repressor to capture Landon. Neither of those things is even slightly appealing to me, but I can’t bring myself to waste the time we do get together on such a boring topic.
Landon would get suspicious. He’d push me away. Or worse, he’ll clam up and fall apart again, just like he did last night.
A dissatisfied, paranoid sound leaves me as I rub my hand—the one not connected to the arm Landon is lying against—over my face.
But the sound stirs him anyway, despite my leaving him be, and I watch as his brows pinch and he shuffles slightly. He’s about to wake up, and I’m not sure what that is going to look like.
Will he panic again? Will he be angry? Or will I get incredibly lucky, and Landon will find it within himself to just be the normal Landon I know?
I want that to be the reality I’m about to experience, so before his eyes can open, I conjure my illusion and bring him back to the endless sky he loves so much: alone and safe.
Bright green eyes blink open a second later, widening quickly as he takes in the infinite black and the uncountable number of small, twinkling stars.
“N-Nate?” he whispers, his voice full of something thick and low. I’ve heard how he sounds when he’s just waking up, and this isn’t it.
It sounds like emotion.
“I’m here,” I tell him, careful to keep my own voice calm and disinterested.
“Can I see you?” Landon sounds a little startled, so I roll onto my side to lie next to him and include myself in his own personal pocket of the universe.
His gaze snaps to mine, his body relaxing as he reaches out and rests a hand over my bicep.
“Hi,” he greets hesitantly.
“Morning.”
Landon is staring at me like he doesn’t know where we should go from here. Like he’s just as freaked out by all of this as I am. And I wish I had some kind of answer to give him, but I honestly don’t.
“About last night,” he finally starts, his eyes dropping to stare at my chest. Is he shy? “I’m not normally like that. I don’t know why I… Can we just forget about it? I really don’t want you to… You know…”
Treat him differently? Stop manhandling him? Leave completely, or kick him out?
“Everyone is entitled to having a moment, Landon,” I say coolly, and suddenly all my worries about what’s happening between us fade into the realization that nothing has to happen between us. We can just forget about it.
“Right,” he agrees, nodding his head a little too quickly.
“I have no intention of changing how I treat you or walking on eggshells around you. Though I will…” I take a deep breath, focusing on the stars that surround us. “I’ll call next time.”
It’s silent for a long time, with both of us gazing above and ignoring any kind of intimate eye contact.
And then suddenly, as if he’s had enough of sitting around, Landon sits up.
“Good!” he announces happily. “Back to normal, then. Which means you need to get up and make me some fucking breakfast.”
Little brat. Such a devious, self-centered asshole.
It’s perfect—it’s normal.
“Me? I’m pretty sure the guy who shows up unannounced should have to provide the food,” I counter.
Landon scoffs. “I did try announcing myself, old man. You’re the one who ignored me.”
The slight hint of annoyance, of disappointment, that coats his words makes me flinch. But I rectify it quickly, my brain forever calculating and planning.
“How about we go out then? If neither of us wants to cook?” I ask.
Landon’s eyes finally land back on mine, his brows raising. “You asking me on a date? Because that does not fall in line with our back-to-normal plan.”
I can’t help but laugh, shoving his shoulder until I have him pinned under the length of my body. “Not a date, brat. It’s breakfast. We can go eat at the park in town or something. I need to get out of this house.”
And it’s true. I feel like I’m about ten seconds away from suffocating under the smell of him, under the memories of how he nearly crumbled last night.
“Like a picnic?” he questions gently, and I can tell from those words alone that he likes the idea, even if it isn’t a date.
Wait, because it’s not a date.
“Sure. We can get the stuff to make sandwiches and buy a Frisbee or something,” I offer, shrugging my shoulders as I stare down at him.
“Sounds fun! My plane leaves around eight, so I have plenty of time.”
“Let’s go then.” I pull myself from his warmth, standing next to the bed as he scrambles up.
Things do feel more normal now, though still slightly weird considering we’re about to do an activity together. But I’m happy to pretend nothing is amiss, especially now that his anxious, hesitant expression has faded into something teasing and relaxed.
Landon makes quick work of readying himself; he fixes his wild bedhead and slips on a new pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. By the time I have my wallet, phone, and keys settled firmly into my pocket, Landon is waiting by the front door with minty breath and an impatient glare.
“You’re so fucking slow,” he jeers.
“Keep talking shit, and I’ll throw you right off the back of my bike,” I threaten, dipping into the closet for my spare helmet.
“Your bike?” Landon chuckles. “What makes you think I’ll get on that? I have a perfectly suitable car in the driveway.”
“The fact that I know where everything is and am buying all the food—that’s what makes me think that.” I shove him out of the way, pulling the front door open before heading straight for my bike as I snatch up my own helmet.
It’s no longer raining, so my leather jacket has more than enough coverage. Landon, on the other hand, is bound to freeze in his fleece zip-up. Not that I’ll be trading him—he’s made his own choice.
I swing a leg over my bike, straddling it as I hold the spare helmet in Landon’s direction. He approaches slowly, eyeing me.
“How do I know you won’t try to shove me off anyway?” he asks, but before I can speak, he’s slipping the helmet over his brown hair, snapping the clasp shut.
“You don’t. Isn’t that exhilarating?” I tease, and he startles as I yank on the strap under his chin, tightening it.
Then, Landon grins, swinging his leg over the same way I did a few seconds ago and gripping my shoulder as he pulls himself up, settling on the bitch seat behind me.
“Alright, old man,” he says. “Take me for a ride.”
Having Landon’s ass settled firmly onto my bike, his back searing into the leather of my jacket, has been a bit distracting as we drive through town.
And the feeling doesn’t leave, even as we grab a few pre-made sandwiches from the grocery store to eliminate clean-up.
Everything he does causes a great fire to ignite within me, burning my insides until nothing is left but desire and irritation; until I am nothing but yearning and self-loathing.
As I park outside of the sporting goods store in the strip mall, I close my eyes to focus on his weight as he slips off the back seat, his skin grazing mine and filling my senses with the scent of his flesh, his sweat.
“You coming?” he prompts, sliding his helmet off for the second time today and ruffling his silky hair, making him appear as a beautiful, debauched bike bunny.
I huff, hooking our helmets over the handles of my bike so we can head inside. Our food is stashed in my backpack, the one Landon threw on before we left the house.
Getting a Frisbee is pretty childish, but otherwise we’ll be forced to talk to each other, and I’m not really mentally prepared to dive into that kind of afternoon with him.
“I think we should get one that can fold up, considering space limitations,” Landon rambles, leading the way into the store without a single care in the world.
I half listen, a little distracted by the priest fleeing from one of the aisles and toward the checkout. He must be late for something.