Chapter 23
CHAD
The drive home is quiet. I think we’re both lost in thought. I knew about Luke, and that John is still working through what happened with him, but until today, I never really knew just how deep his pain went.
John’s grief is all-consuming and affects his entire life.
His need for control and to distance himself from the people who care about him most makes so much more sense now.
It’s like he’s always preparing for the moment they won’t be there anymore.
Anticipatory grief or something. At least, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard my mom mention that phrase before.
I can’t pretend I actually understand what he’s experiencing.
I’ve never lost someone I loved to that degree, that intensity.
But knowing what I do about him now, it’s not a surprise to me that he’s kept everyone at arm’s length to protect himself.
He even does it with his own brothers it seems. The three of them appear to be close, and then there’s John.
He must believe that if he avoids caring about the people in his life that the next loss won’t take him down with it.
But that’s only living half a life. Doesn’t he see that too?
I understand he thought he’d be with Luke forever, and now I know that future was gone in an instant. Unfairly ripped away before they had a chance to even try.
When I met John, I thought he was grumpy and mad at the world, but I had no idea why.
I just knew he was Liam’s best friend, so I wanted to be his friend too.
Then in Vegas, I saw glimpses of his caring, protective nature, and when he dropped his gruff exterior and laughed with me, smiled even, it made me feel more special than I’d ever felt around anyone else.
Now I realize he does have a reason to be mad at the world. That loss destroyed him.
Of course he stopped planning after that.
Of course he stopped letting people in.
Those smiles and laughs I’ve earned from him feel even more important now.
The more I get to know John, the more I realize he doesn’t do anything halfway, especially not feelings. It could be wishful thinking, but I’m pretty sure he builds his entire world around the person he loves, and I think that’s exactly why he refuses to admit he has feelings for me.
Not that I think he’s in love with me. Yet.
But I think he might be incapable of loving casually or lightly. If he were to admit that whatever we are isn’t just about sex, he would be making himself vulnerable again. A relationship with me could have the power to destroy him if something ever happens to me.
The way he looked when he saw me on his motorcycle keeps replaying in my mind. His voice was filled with sheer panic, and his hands were literally shaking after he pulled me off. That wasn’t about control. It wasn’t about pride or possessiveness.
It was terror of losing another person he cares about.
Because he cares about me.
He can think he’s protecting himself by keeping me at arm’s length and refusing to call this more than it is, but I know better. He showed me tonight that I mean more to him than he’s willing to put into words.
That has to be why he’s so careful with me, so protective. He thinks if he can control everything, then he can stop the bad things from happening.
But that’s not how the world works.
And if that’s true, why the hell does he treat his own life like it’s expendable?
That’s the part that unsettles me the most. He doesn’t seem nearly as concerned about his own safety as he does with others. He still rides his motorcycle, still tempts the same kind of fate that took the person he loved from him.
He acts like if something happened to him, it wouldn’t really matter. Does he feel guilty that he’s still here and Luke isn’t? As though he’s been living on borrowed time ever since he lost him in that tragic accident?
Fuck. I hope he knows that isn’t true. The idea of something happening to me nearly unraveled him, and honestly, I feel the same way at the idea of anything happening to him.
He needs to know how much I value him in my life, how much he enhances it.
That’s all I’ve tried to do since the beginning, what I’m still trying to do, but I’m not sure he can see it.
He can tell himself this is just sex. He can insist we have rules to “eliminate” feelings.
He can keep repeating that we’re nothing more than our arrangement.
And I will keep doing my best to respect that because I don’t want to risk pushing him before he’s ready.
I’ll keep showing up and showing him that I’m here because I want to be, because I care about him.
Even if he doesn’t believe it yet, having him in my life really does make it so much better.
And maybe, one day, he’ll realize it doesn’t matter what our labels are for each other: arrangement, friend, boyfriend, husband, his life is also better with me in it. We’re so much better together than we are apart, and the life he thought ended years ago isn’t the only future he can have.
Call me a hopeless romantic, but I really do think we can be happy. I’ve believed it since the start. It might sound crazy, but I think there’s a reason we ended up in Vegas together that weekend, that we went to that chapel and no one else was there.
John pulls into his driveway, and I look over to him, unsure where we go from here. We haven’t said a word to each other this entire drive, and it seems like he plans to keep it that way as he turns off the car and walks up his rotting porch steps to unlock his front door.
“Hey, John,” I call out as I get out behind him, following until I catch up with him in the kitchen. “Thank you for telling me all that. I know it isn’t easy for you to talk about.”
He says nothing in response, just grunts.
I hate seeing him so upset. Especially when—even if it was unintentional—I’m the one who triggered this response in him. He’s trying to act like he’s fine, but I know he’s still tense about the motorcycle and what he just shared with me.
All I want is to make him feel better. I need to get him out of his head, and what better way to do that for him than to hand him control?
To remind him that I’m here, and that I’m not going anywhere.
I’m very much alive and happy to be with him in whatever capacity he’s ready for.
I’m also turned on by him being so concerned about me.
Maybe I can help him feel more balanced by taking his frustration out on me.
John’s standing in front of the fridge, so I close the distance between us, and slide my hands over his waist.
“I need you to understand I’m here because I want to be,” I start, and he turns in my arms to snap his eyes at me. “And right now, I don’t want to think about anything. Just want to feel you.”
I nudge my knee between his thighs, wanting him to react. My hand moves from his waist up to his chest, rubbing circles with my thumbs around his nipples through his shirt, feeling them harden beneath my touch.
“I want you to remind me that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, Sir.”
John’s pupils flare slightly at my words and a hint of a smile is on his lips as his hands finally come up to settle on my hips. Bingo. That’s what I want to see. He already looks happier.
“What exactly do you want, Chad?”
“You,” I answer simply.
His fingers twitch on my hips as he hums, biting his lip.
He’s hesitating, likely still overthinking and in his head.
I don’t want that. “I want you to decide everything tonight,” I say, my voice trembling just a little with nerves even though I know he wants this too.
“I want you to tell me exactly what to do with my mouth, my hands, my body. No part of me wants to think. Let me follow your orders and feel you inside of me until I can’t think about anything else. ”
John doesn’t say anything, but the air around us changes, replaced by the heavy, magnetic pull of his dominance. His grip on my hips tightens, fingers digging in hard enough that I know I’ll feel it tomorrow, but I love it. Love being marked by him.
“Mmm, you want to be my sub tonight, Princess?” he taunts, and the ghost of a smile at the corners of his mouth as he says it makes me so fucking happy.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Then get on your knees,” John commands, and I gulp, falling to the kitchen floor.
My hands rest on my thighs as I look up at him, waiting for his next instruction.
“Good boy,” he murmurs, and fuck, those words send a shiver down my spine.
His hand comes up to my jaw, thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “Open.”
I part my lips, and he slides his thumb inside, pressing down on my tongue. I close my mouth around it and suck gently, maintaining eye contact with him. His other hand moves to unbutton his pants, and my saliva starts pooling in my mouth, knowing I’m only seconds away from seeing his piercings.
“You’re going to take my cock in that pretty mouth of yours,” he says, pulling his thumb free with a wet pop. “And you’re not going to use your hands unless I tell you to. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” I respond automatically, surrendering fully to his request. I love it, not only because I do enjoy this dynamic and how freeing it is, but tonight especially, I love knowing I’m giving him what he needs, that I’m helping him feel settled after a tough day.
I’ll do almost anything he asks because I’m his, no matter what he wants to call me.
John unzips his jeans, pushing them down with his underwear just enough to free his cock.
He’s hard and thick; his Prince Albert piercing is shining with a dab of precum waiting for me to lick it clean.
I lean forward instinctively, but his hand shoots out to grab my hair, gripping tight and holding me in place.
“Did I say you could move?”
“No, Sir.” I probably sound a little happier than I’m meant to in this situation, but I can’t help it. I just love this so much.
“Color?”
“Green, very green.”