
The Charlie Factor
Diana DeRicci
Published By Purple Sword Publications, LLC
THE CHARLIE FACTOR
Copyright © 2011 DIANA DERICCI
ISBN 978-1-936165-84-1
Cover Art Designed By Anastasia Rabiyah
Edited By Shoshana Hurwitz and Traci Markou
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
Charlie Baker held the cell phone in his hand, staring at it blankly. He swept his thumb over the picture on the display, waiting for the old hurt to return, but it didn't. The emotional pain that had haunted him for months was gone. The agony of betrayal, of being deceived, and ultimately of loss, had run its course. The physical reminders would be with him until the day he died. Gazing at the now-bucolic picture where the pixilated image of his ex had been for three years, all he felt was a hollowness, a vague wish to turn back the clock and do something---anything---different. That was pointless, and he knew it.
Sighing, he wrapped his arms around his knees, watching the waves from the sand dunes where he sat. There was a nip of fall in the air. The Texas coast in early November didn't really get cold, but early-morning breezes, pulses of salt air that came in from the gulf, weren't uncommon. The oversized fisherman's sweater covering his frame protected him. The occasional cry of a seagull broke the morning quiet, but that was about it. People didn't come to the beach in November. And that worked well for him. Charlie wasn't ready for people, but his wish for solitude wasn't to be granted.
The spirited yaps of a puppy pulled his attention down the beach. He felt a weak smile try to break free at the pup's antics as he raced in and out with the waves, barking at the water like it was a vicious monster, and he was protecting the coast from it. Folding his arms over his knees, he rested to watch his carefree romping. He noticed the athletic form jogging not too far behind, glad he wasn't a stray. The closer they came, the better he could make out the pair. The dog looked to be around six months old, still wily but not gangly, and full of life. A yellow lab, if he wasn't too wrong. The man trailing behind was in his twenties or early thirties, he guessed, with finger-length blond hair. He only wore a pair of dark green jogging shorts and sneakers with a windbreaker knotted around his waist, obviously used to the coastal weather and the beach.
Charlie hadn't felt warm in months. One of the things he'd grown accustomed to, he supposed. He was surprised when the dog spotted him and changed direction faster than an animal in loose sand should have been able. The puppy charged him, but didn't bark or growl, his tail wagging like Charlie was just his latest friend---or toy. How long did teething last for dogs?
"Hey, big guy," he crooned. The dog plopped on his back in instant love, waggling his tail and whining, begging for a tummy rub. "Okay, but I don't want to get you in trouble." Charlie stretched out his right arm, glad it didn't shake too badly, and ran his fingers over the panting body. The animal grunted in sheer appreciation.
"Samson." Charlie's head snapped up, instantly withdrawing. The dog's owner was looking his way. He tucked his hand back into the sweater sleeve, leaving only his fingers visible. Samson rolled to his feet and bounded to his master with a woof.
Then he surprised Charlie, racing back to him. He wiggled closer, like he wanted to climb on his lap. Charlie oomphed when a rather large puppy paw jabbed him in the middle.
"Samson!"
The dog whined and blatantly disobeyed. Charlie caught it when the man calling for the dog began to lope in his direction. A rueful scowl seemed to say he'd expected something of the sort from the animal.
"I'm sorry," they said at the same time.
"Samson is in obedience training and still young enough to be a brat." The man unfurled a leash that had been stashed in a side pocket, and clipped it to Samson's collar.
"He's a very friendly dog," Charlie offered.
"Sorry he bothered you." He tugged on the leash and Samson finally deigned to listen, sitting not quite calmly at his owner's side.
"He didn't." Charlie pushed his hands into opposite sleeves, making sure his body was covered.
"Aren't you hot?"
"Aren't you cold?" He raised his chin to look up. The man was nearly naked. How could he not be cold?
The blond laughed. "Touché." He tapped the dog's head, whose tongue lolled as he panted. "Well, this is Samson. I'm Gregory."
"Nice to meet you both." It wasn't frosty, but it was a far cry from honestly welcoming.
Charlie guessed Gregory took the hint as he stepped away. "Enjoy your morning."
"Thank you," Charlie replied. Gregory turned and continued with their run, Samson now trotting at his side on his leash. Charlie watched them go, their forms shrinking to dots on the beach.
He'd been coming to the beach for a few days in the mornings and hadn't seen the pair before. He didn't try to postulate why. It wasn't like he owned the beach, just rented the bungalow across the dunes. His PT had told him he needed to walk more, and Charlie took that to mean walking to the beach counted. So what if he came and sat? His legs got him there, didn't they?
He sighed, flexing his shoulder, feeling the tightness of the healed skin. The burns had healed, though he still felt the monumental difference along his side and to his shoulder. Twenty-eight fucking years old and on disability. He snorted, disgusted.
"Don't wallow, Charles," his physical therapist and psychiatrist had both cautioned him. "You are not to blame. There's still a whole world out there. You're young and healthy."
Except he'd be walking with a cane for the rest of his life.
He wanted to pitch something, but clutched his phone tighter to restrain the impulse. Stretching his legs, he couldn't help but notice how much muscle mass he'd lost under the thin sweats while laid up in the hospital. He'd always been a little on the thin side, but he'd worked hours every day to make himself stronger, to be a reliable member of the firehouse team.
Charlie never expected his lover to try to kill him by burning down their own house, though. A plotted suicide. A firefighter murdered in his own home. The irony wasn't lost on him.
The burn scars stretched from his shoulder, down his back ending on his right thigh above his knee. The doctors had grafted some to minimize the largest scars, but he'd lost chunks. Skin and muscle. He shivered, closing his eyes for a moment. Stop it. You're alive, and he's in jail along with his fuck toy. They'd both planned it. How sick was that? He couldn't just break up with Charlie.
Plucking at the top of the sweats, he popped sand off in powdery bursts. With a glance at the phone for the time, not the picture, he reached behind him for the cane he used. He was stronger now, but he kept it close for those times when his thigh gave him problems. It was useless on the shifting sands, but he could manage that much until he hit the hard pavement to walk the few blocks on the sidewalks to his home. After attempting the sand, he knew he'd need it on the return trek.
Charlie took slow, measured steps, concentrating to make his legs work in sync in the soft sand. With the damaged hamstring and tendons, his right leg would never flex and support him the way it had before. He'd always need the cane. What made it hard was the damage to his shoulder. He had to hold his weight on that shoulder when his leg grew tired. For a man who had taken his body for granted before the fire, he knew he never would again.
Gregory ran with Samson at his side. The light lap of the rolling waves helped him keep a steady pace, the air filled with the salt of the sea and things that a person either loved or hated about the beach. The salt spray. The humid scent of fish and water. Gregory had always loved the beach and missed it. A California transplant for four years, he knew he wasn't leaving Texas, but at least he could get a good beach fix.
After a quick time check, he made a U-turn, tugging a still-energetic Samson with him. The dog had energy to spare, but he'd be settled by the time they reached the car to drive home. He loved the morning runs and knew he needed to make them more regular. Samson's latest attempt at home decorating had made Gregory see that much. The poor couch. He groaned with mild humor. He knew what he was getting into when he adopted the rascal at three months of age. He'd just forgotten how much work there was in training and keeping all things smaller than an elephant out of his jaws. He'd been well-behaved all morning. His exuberance had kept Gregory smiling most of the run.
Until Charlie.
What would have been a slow breath was instead a head shake because he was running. Samson was the ultimate goodwill ambassador of puppy-dom. He loved everyone, and wasn't at all modest about begging for attention. "Slut," he teased. Samson wagged his tail.
Gregory noticed a slow-moving person ahead, and immediately knew it was Charlie. The man was wearing a sweater thick enough for the Canadian Rockies. This was Texas. Charlie's choice of attire dumbfounded him. As Gregory drew closer, he noticed the cane in his right hand.
Coming up from behind, Gregory was also able to follow the other man's hitched movements, the stiff stride as he balanced on his left leg and maneuvered his right in a steady motion, like he was relearning how to walk. Unconsciously, Gregory slowed his run to an easy jog. He doubted Charlie would want to know he was being spied on.
Gregory followed his awkward gait, his frown deepening as he noticed the way Charlie's leg kept trying to buckle, but he managed not to let it. It was clear the cane wouldn't help him in the sand, then noting the direction he was taking, Gregory spotted the dip in the dune Charlie was clearly aiming for. The soft sand was all but sucking his feet out from under him. He doubted with the way Charlie's head was bowed with concentration that he was aware of the pitfall looming before him.
As though aware in a sixth sense kind of way, Samson made no bones about yanking loose from Gregory's lax control and galloped up to Charlie to stand in his way. He didn't bark, but he stood his ground, stopping Charlie in his tracks. His tail moved slowly.
"Samson," Gregory growled, not at all pleased with his behavior. So much for training. Gregory jogged to catch up.
Charlie looked over his shoulder, a questioning expression on his face.
"I'm sorry. I guess he wanted to say goodbye."
Charlie blinked, then relaxed, leaning on his left leg. "It's okay."
Gregory bent at the waist and grasped the leash out of the sand, wrapping it over his palm this time. "Do you live close by? I think Samson wants to walk you home."
Charlie's green eyes darkened, his frame reflexively weaving in the other direction. "Crummy pick-up line," he muttered.
Gregory was struck silent, then it hit him. "Oh. I'm not gay."
Charlie's head tilted.
Gregory sighed. "Look, I know you don't want the company, but you're about to fall headfirst into a sinkhole. I'm not an asshole who's going to let some guy, anyone, do that."
Charlie faced forward, searching ahead, and his eyes widened. Then he looked down. "Thanks, Samson." He grinned when the dog wagged harder. He shifted his weight, glancing to his side. "Sorry. I'm not usually this difficult."
A light smile hit Charlie's face, an actual softening of his lips in apology, and Gregory returned it. The man's green eyes were deep, like a stone green. They were brilliant in the morning sunlight. "Not a problem. We're on our cool-down anyway. If you wouldn't mind a guy just hanging out to be a friend?"
Charlie seemed to consider it, staring him in the face. "I walk slow. Might not be worth your time."
Gregory didn't let his expression change, but he caught the between-the-lines meaning in that. "Nah. Though that sweater boggles my mind. It's barely sixty out here."
Charlie shrugged, but didn't offer an explanation.
"Okay," Charlie finally said. Gregory stepped clear to let Charlie regain his balance and direction, then with Samson at his side, adjusted his stride for Charlie.
"Do you like football?" Gregory asked a few minutes later.
Charlie focused ahead, then dropped his attention to where he was walking, one stiff pace at a time. "I'll watch almost anything but golf. I just don't get the shut up and wait of the tension."
Gregory chuckled. "Me neither. I mean, who wants to whack a ball for three hundred yards only to have to hunt for it and whack it again?"
Charlie's laugh was low and short, but Gregory was sure he needed it.
"This is going to sound corny, but I'm new in Texas." Little white lie; bad Gregory. "Would you like to come watch a game this afternoon?"
Charlie stopped, studying him through some wicked golden lashes. "You sure you're not gay?"
"Completely." Then Gregory's devil spoke up. "It's a waste, I know."
Charlie smiled knowingly, transforming the whole brooding depth of his features. "Conceited much?"
"All the way," Gregory retorted, fighting hard not to grin like a jackass. Charlie was the first guy he'd met in ages that he genuinely felt relaxed around. He knew he'd been too reclusive of late, stuck to his computer working. It was the cycle of the seasons though. The beach was all but deserted except for the native residents.
Charlie debated his invitation, eyeing him with some speculation in his gaze. "Why don't you come to my place? I need to do my stretches, and the first game will have started before I'd be able to go anywhere."
"You're sure?"
Charlie rolled an unconcerned shoulder. "Why not? If you want beer, bring some. I don't drink."
That surprised Gregory, but he made a note of it for later. He liked Charlie and thought they could be good friends.
"Sure. Come on, slowpoke. Let's go. I stink and want a shower."
"Bastard," Charlie mumbled.
With a wince, Gregory realized what he'd said, but noted there wasn't any anger in Charlie's expression or in his tone. He let out a thankful breath, signaling to Samson with the leash that he could stop sniffing the dried dune grass now.
Gregory walked with Charlie for a couple blocks, surprised he'd managed as far as he had with the bad leg and cane.
Charlie pointed. "That's my place. The bungalow with the shit-brown siding."
Gregory laughed. "Why don't you change it?"
"Renting. Don't really care."
Gregory didn't remark on that. A lot of people rented. He was probably getting it for a deal during the off-season by the beach. "Okay. So be back in say, two hours?"
Gregory met Charlie's eyes, unsurprised at the dubiousness in their green depths.
"Sure. I'll be here."
"Want me to bring anything? Don't want to invade and mooch."
"Sure. You can even bring Samson if you want. He's housebroken?"
Gregory groaned, rolling his eyes. Oh, the arguments he and Samson had over that. "One of the first things we covered."
Charlie smiled at his aggrieved tone. Gregory noticed Charlie was physically using his cane now, so he decided it was time to let him go home. "I'll go shower and stop by the store on the way. Football cannot be enjoyed without mounds of food with health warnings on it."
"Sounds good."
Gregory offered his hand to shake. "Should've done this at the beach, but hey. Nice to meet you."
Charlie switched the cane to his other hand and offered to return the gesture. Immediately, Gregory noted the shake in his grasp. He made a point not to overwhelm the man. "You too."
Gregory released him. "Great. See you in a while then." With a last glance, he turned on a heel and jogged with Samson down the block, noting the name of the street when he hit the end of the sidewalk. He controlled the urge not to twist around to ensure Charlie made it home. Though the man was obviously recovering from something, he sincerely doubted he wanted anyone, even a new---or any---friend, hovering over him.
Charlie heaved, bracing his torso to do another round of leg lifts. The three-pound weight killed him, but it was necessary to rebuild any of the muscle he had left. The spare bedroom was layered in mats with various weights aligned in sets along the wall. None of the weights were like the ones he used to do workouts with. Nothing was over ten pounds. In order not to overcompensate with his left side, he refused to use heavier weights. It had taken his PT about four weeks to convince him he needed to build them back up equally, though the left side would structure faster and in tighter form. He couldn't look at it as his right side not doing the same; it simply was going to rebuild at a different level. And it would never again be equal.
He longed to do the presses and knee crunches he used to, but knew those weren't happening, so he made do with the lifts, arm curls, and stretches.
Removing the weight after the last count, he stretched again, breathing a little heavier. Rolling his neck, it popped and he groaned. He was regretting inviting Gregory over. What's a straight guy doing bugging me? He chided himself. Okay, he wasn't bugging him, but still. Charlie's friends were all in Houston, hours away. None of them even bothered to call anymore. I haven't made it easy for them.
A few had come to see him in the hospital. He hadn't really been up to facing anyone right after the fire. After the truth of what Garen had done, Charlie had just felt used and beaten. He'd had no room for sympathy, or worse, pity. The firehouse crew had been supportive, but once it came out that Garen was his partner and not just his roommate... He let out a hot breath. The shit had hit the fan. They'd unanimously written him off. Charlie let them. He was useless to anyone in his current shape. He'd accepted their rejection at the time, though now he knew it was plain ignorance on their behalf. It wasn't like he'd been less of a man because he was gay. When they should've had his back, kept him strong from rescue to rehab, they'd dumped him like a ripe bag of trash. Charlie hadn't cared a whole hell of a lot at the time, and still didn't.
Not when his lover had drugged him, dragged him to bed and then set his house on fire after posting a suicide note on the internet. Five more minutes and he'd have been dead. That's what the arson investigator had told him.
That note he'd sent to God and beyond was the only reason anyone had thought to see if it was real. The note was sent to everyone on his e-mail list because Garen hadn't really cared who his closest friends were, just that he covered his bases. Well, that was where the fucker screwed up. Shithead sent the letter to his parents and to his sister, Elizabeth. The instant she got it on her Blackberry, she'd called nine-one-one and commanded their asses to his house. His sister wasn't stupid. It was because of her that Charlie learned how long Garen had been cheating on him. She'd led the charge on discovering the truth. Lying in bed, recovering from being burned, half-buried, and inhaling smoke, Charlie just hadn't given a rat's ass over anything to do with Garen. He'd made the connection as his consciousness returned and his capacity to think grew stronger. He didn't have the strength to be mad, not when he was simply trying to stay alive.
It's why he didn't drink alcohol anymore. The fucker had toasted him with Class-A bourbon and enough sleeping pills to drop a horse on its ass.
Everything from the kerosene to the leftover suicide pills were stashed in the bedroom with Charlie. How a drugged man could start a fire passed out in bed had never occurred to Garen. For a murder attempt, it was sloppy as hell. As suicide went, Charlie had to be superhuman to accomplish all the stuff that Garen had done while drugged, because even an insane man would have a hell of a time imbibing that much plus the pills while his house burned to the ground around him.
Breathing evenly after his workout, Charlie pushed himself up and stood straight, feeling the pull in his back. A hot shower would ease the strain. Tired, but not limping as badly as he had been that morning, he aimed for the bathroom and the shower. He knew he was going to pay for sitting on the cool ground for so long.
And just think, he silently groused. You've only got another sixty years or so of this hell to live through.
"Ain't I fucking lucky?" He ran a stiff hand over his hair, no longer buzz-cut but still short, then stalked to the bathroom.
Gregory knocked on the door and waited. The bungalow was small in comparison to a few of the other homes on the street, but it looked sturdy for coastal weather. The little yard was winter dead, with sand lining the edge of the street. Hard to get away from it. But Gregory didn't mind. He'd been on or near one beach or another almost his whole life. He noticed there wasn't a car anywhere except his Jeep in the drive near the front door. It made him wonder a little more about what had happened to Charlie.
"The party has arrived," he announced when Charlie opened the door. Surprise was replaced by light pleasure.
"I honestly had my doubts."
Charlie looked down, that kind smile softening his lips in welcome. Figures. The hairball would get a warmer greeting. Should just make him the icebreaker everywhere.
"Hi, Samson." The traitor had the nerve to wag his tail. "Come on in. It's not much, but it's comfortable."
Gregory went inside, letting him close the door on the November chill. The standard hardwood floor was swept clean of sand, a typical problem. There wasn't much in view. A couch, a good-sized TV on a stand along the farthest wall with a coffee table in the middle of the room. The kitchen was to the left, with a low break wall and a baluster painted a sky blue, the same as the kitchen.
"Nothing to worry about. Okay to let him loose?" Charlie waved a hand in the universal 'go ahead' motion and then turned for the kitchen. Gregory noticed that Charlie was walking around without the cane, not as slowly or gingerly as he had been that morning. He hoped that meant he was feeling better. He didn't want to be a guest who was a burden. "I snagged some chips, dip, and some sodas," he added, lifting the three bags hanging from his fingers.
"Sounds good. I have ice. Can't live without it, even in a blizzard."
"Damn. Will you marry me?"
Charlie glanced over a shoulder, then laughed. "Careful, sailor. Someone might think you are gay."
"I have a confession," Gregory said while setting things out on the kitchen table.
Charlie stuttered to a stop a few feet ahead of him, his eyes wary.
Gregory rushed on, knowing Charlie thought he'd deceived him. "I used to work with a group of guys and three of them were gay. They rubbed off on me, but they were more sane than the straight bastards I knew." And not nearly the assholes either, he added to himself.
Assimilating the answer, Charlie nodded, then asked, "What did you do?" He gathered glasses for their drinks.
"Same thing I do now from home. I'm an academic translator."
"From home? I didn't think you could do that."
"Well, I work with about eight major national campuses and freelance across the country. Can't really tote that to the office."
"Good point." Gregory handed over the balled-up plastic shopping bags and Charlie stuffed them in a container under the kitchen sink. With freshly washed dark blond hair that was still damp, he was dressed in loose sweats and an oversized sweatshirt, looking like someone's younger brother hanging out. "What about you?"
Charlie's jaw tightened. "I was a firefighter near Sugar Land until about fourteen months ago. I was released."
"Nothing doing since?"
Charlie shook his head.
Samson trotted into the kitchen, his nose to the floor, snuffling and investigating, expelling the building tension Gregory caught in Charlie's frame. "Feel free to tell me to shut up," Gregory said, apologizing.
Charlie lifted his chin, his green eyes losing the shadows in them. "It's okay. Just a sore spot."
"No doubt. I bet you were awesome," Gregory said without even thinking about it. He just wanted Charlie to feel better, and doubted he was wrong.
Charlie swallowed. "Thanks. Grab the junk food. Let's go see who's playing."
Gregory recognized evasion and a wish to drop it. Charlie quickly filled both glasses with ice and Gregory brought up the rear to get comfortable on the couch with him. The TV flickered on and he let his mind go blank with following the game.
Charlie felt Samson plop his head onto a bare foot, immediately rolling back to sleep. It had been ages since he'd had a dog. He couldn't keep up with one now, and Samson was a good example of why. He had endless energy, and he was going to be as large as his coffee table when he was fully grown. Regardless, those brown eyes and an innate eagerness to please sure did make him likeable.
He rocked his foot under the weight of the dog's head and got a grunt of pleasure.
The sound drew Gregory's attention to the floor. "Sheesh. He's such a slut."
Charlie's lips quirked. It was a shame he wasn't gay. Charlie peeked at him, catching him unawares watching the game again. Golden blond hair long enough to grasp, but trimmed. Warm brown eyes. Remembering him running by on the beach brought to mind his firm chest, nearly hairless except for a thin line running below his collarbone to meet on his sternum. He had strong legs, and he hated to admit he'd noticed so much, but a great ass. He hadn't looked at a soul with any kind of interest since he left the hospital.
It was probably better that he wasn't gay. Charlie wasn't interested in even considering a relationship again, but a friend was something else. Except for his sister, he didn't talk to anyone, didn't see anyone. The friends he'd had in Houston were in his past. They didn't want to have anything to do with him if he couldn't go out and party and dance like he used to. Mentally he shrugged. It was their choice. Having someone close by on the island wouldn't be so bad.
"I'm glad Samson stopped," Charlie said quietly a couple hours later as they gathered up the remains of their snackfest and empty cans after the game. He caught Gregory's brown eyes. "If you're new to Texas, I can tell you where there are some great sightseeing spots. I'm not much on clubs anymore, but those are all over Houston and Corpus anyway."
Gregory's gaze grew confused for a heartbeat, then he replied, "Oh, great. Thanks." He carried decimated chip bags into the kitchen, trailing Charlie.
Sitting had stiffened Charlie's leg some, but he could walk without it bitching. "I guess what I'm sucking at saying is...thanks for coming over. It's been quiet since I moved in, and I hadn't realized how much."
Gregory's eyes warmed to a gleaming mocha. Faint streaks of black pulled them out of the boring column. Something told him Gregory had a certain mischievousness about him with the way his eyes sparkled. That flare went with the comments on the beach. Gregory made him want to laugh, something he hadn't been doing lately.
"Happy to waste a Sunday with you. Feel free to repay the favor. You're welcome whenever." Spotting the magnetic pad and pen Charlie kept on his refrigerator, Gregory wrote down his address and phone number. He handed it to Charlie expectantly.
Grasping it between his fingers, he carefully wrote out his information at the bottom, then tore the portion off. With Samson on his leash once more, Gregory headed home.
Watching Gregory and Samson leave, Charlie wondered idly how much shit his sister was going to give him at finding a friend. He wasn't exactly in the third grade now, but it had been a long time just the same.
Gregory pitched his glasses on his desk, stretching his arms high over his head and groaning as muscles unkinked from sitting in front of his computer for the last six hours. Noting the time, he stood, palming Samson's leash. "Come on, hairball," he said kindly, scratching the beast behind his ears when he trotted up at the now-familiar actions. Congenial panting was his answer. "Seventh-inning stretch."
Opening the front door, he walked them both out, tugging the door closed behind them. Almost absently, he glanced in the direction Charlie lived, as though expecting him to be coming up the street in his direction. Oddly, the other man would pop up into his thoughts at unexpected moments, like now.
Strolling down the sidewalk, letting Samson sniff and pee at will, he dug his cell phone out. On a whim, he'd programmed Charlie's number into his phone. Charlie hadn't called him, but Gregory had a feeling it wasn't from lack of wanting to, more a case of not sure what to do if he did. Gregory didn't have that problem. Like his dog, he could be friends with just about anyone.
He tapped the speed dial, and with the phone held to his ear, he waited.
"Hello?"
The brusque grunt took him off guard. He stopped walking and Samson sat at his side, apparently content for the moment not to be sniffing every bush and blade of grass along the way. "Charlie. It's Gregory."
"Just a...sec." A guttural groan and a loud thud carried through the phone. Shit. He's doing something or he has company. Panting, he came back to the phone. "Sorry about...that."
"Hey, Charlie, is this a bad time? If you have company..."
His laugh was forced. "No. Not company. Fucking leg."
Oh, hell. That's pain in his voice. "Are you all right?"
"No, but that's nothing new."
Gregory had planned to ask if he wanted to come over for burgers, but hearing the pain bleeding into the replies barked over the line made him immediately anxious for the man. "Do you need me to come over?"
"No!" Charlie hissed a harsh breath. "No," he repeated more calmly. "I'll be fine."
Gregory had his doubts. "Stay put. I'll bring dinner."
"Greg." Charlie was apparently strong enough to argue. Lucky for Charlie, annoyed frustration merely bounced off his chest.
"Too bad, tiger. And before you bitch again, I'd do this for any friend." Then he hung up, wondering why he'd felt compelled to say that at the end. Shaking his head and shoving his phone in a pocket, he spun with a firm hand on Samson's leash for him to fall in at his side.
Once inside, he quickly sacked up enough to make burgers at Charlie's. With that ready to go, he brought out a fresh rawhide for Samson. "Please, chew on that and not the couch, okay?" Samson went to the living room and laid down, the epitome of canine dismissal.
He locked the door, then scurried to the car, arriving at Charlie's minutes later. He knocked, then when he didn't hear anything, he tried to open the door. It swung in. "Charlie?" Noting he wasn't in the front room or the kitchen, he called again, louder.
The house wasn't huge, but the dead silence made his skin crawl. With the sack in hand, he let himself in. He placed it and his car keys on the kitchen table, then began snooping for Charlie.
A scraped sound drew him to a partially closed door in the hall beyond the kitchen. The door had been closed last Sunday.
"Charlie?" A moan reached him. Gregory shoved the door in and froze. "Shit! Charlie? What happened?"
"Leg. Cramped." He bit the words through a clenched jaw. He was lying on his left side, hunched over protectively with his arms holding his right leg still. Pain emanated from him as tendons stretched and bowed in his neck and shoulders.
"What do you need?"
"Hot. Pad. Top shelf...closet." Each word was a gasped effort.
Gregory leaped in that direction, searching for and quickly finding the heating pad. He plugged it in and knelt at his side. "Where?"
White-knuckled and bloodless, he lifted a hand. "There. Wrap it. Hot. Full."
Gregory didn't take the time to question, figuring Charlie knew what he needed to do to help himself. "Would a hot bath help?"
Shakily, he nodded.
"Okay. Hold this." Charlie clutched the heating pad under his hand, still sucking air in raw heaves.
Rushing to the bathroom, he opened the taps to full, waiting for the water to heat. Letting the tub fill, he rushed down the short hall to the mats, where he found Charlie still tied up like a knot. "Is it helping?"
"Not yet. Soon." But he was breathing easier, so something was improving.
"The bath is filling. Lean on me and I'll help you get there." Gregory helped roll him over. Charlie let the heating pad slide away. Using his upper body for leverage, Gregory eased Charlie up to stand on his uninjured leg. "Slow and easy."
Charlie nodded, every muscle trembling against the pain. With an arm over Gregory's shoulders, he partially carried the blond out the door and down the hall to the restroom.
"Feel strong enough to hold up a wall?" Gregory asked. He searched Charlie's pale face, noting the pinched tightness to his mouth. When he nodded with a jerk of his chin, Gregory gently leaned him into the nearest wall to turn off the water. Facing him again, he couldn't miss the shudders that wracked his frame.
Then he realized the next problem. He was going to have to undress Charlie to get him into the water.
Looking into his eyes, it seemed Charlie also had the same realization at that moment. He straightened, but hissed when he tried to shift his leg too far. His head fell to the wall, exhaustion adding more shadows. "Some predicament, huh? Sure you wanted to come over?"
"Can you..." Gregory swallowed. "To get in the water?"
Consternation and impatience were his answer. "Seriously?" When Gregory didn't---couldn't---move, Charlie tossed his shoulder for him to get out of the way. "I'll do it. It's not like this is the first time."
Gregory shook his head. "It's no worse than gym class, right?" Charlie rolled his eyes. "I won't wrestle you, but dude, you're barely on one foot."
"Really? Tell me something I don't know."
"All right. All right." He couldn't blame him for his surly attitude. He was the one who'd barged in. Gregory grabbed the cuff of his sweatshirt. "One arm at a time." After a flickering pause, Charlie did as asked. Gregory repeated it for the other arm, letting Charlie use him for balance to move as he needed to. Grasping the bottom, he worked it over his head.
He froze for the second time since walking into Charlie's, his gaze immediately landing on the scar tissue that snaked to the front of his ribs from around his back.
Charlie sneered with a lifted lip. "Want the whole show?"
Gregory shook his head, focusing on what needed to be done. "Lean on me again." Charlie did with one hand, using the other in tandem with Gregory to drop his sweatpants. With his right leg as stiff as a board, bent and uncooperative, it was up to Gregory to get them lower. He ignored the dick that was lying right at eye level.
Or tried to. It was impossible to completely ignore. He had never been that close to another guy's package, and even using himself as the end-all guide, had to admit Charlie was a hell of a guy. Blond hair coated his groin, but not too thick. Gregory swallowed, amazed as Charlie's cock pulsed. Before Charlie realized what he was doing, he squatted and eased the sweats over his bare foot, letting him shimmy his left foot out of the bottom of the leg. He dropped them with the sweatshirt, standing once more.
"Now the fun," Charlie groused. They both faced the ominous challenge of the tub. Steam curled up in translucent tendrils. The white tub didn't look at all comfortable for his length, but this wasn't a beggar's convention.
"Any pointers?" Gregory asked, hoping for something helpful, switching between eyeing the full tub and the solid male length before him.
"It's not an Olympic dive, I'll tell you that."
Gregory crossed his arms. "Smartass."
"I have to roll in," Charlie explained stiffly. "It's the most ungainly, unappealing sight on the planet."
"Any way I can help?"
For the first time, Charlie looked at him as though he were actually there to help, not just to give him hell. He sighed. "Unless you think you can lift me, no."
"What do you weigh?" His arms fell to his sides in preparation.
Charlie swept up a hand, those green eyes widening in shock. "Christ, Greg. I was kidding."
"I'm not. If you're under two-eighty, I can do it." He was pretty sure Charlie didn't top one-seventy-five, but he'd be the last one to make a discussion of it.
Charlie bared his teeth with a low snarl. "I'm able."
"The hell you are," Gregory came back, sharper. "You're in pain from your teeth to your toenails. I can see it. Now what do you weigh?"
"You're really..."
"Yep, because aside from being a friend, I'm a total bastard."
"Now I find out," Charlie griped. "Should have thrown sand at you last weekend."
"Too late."
Charlie groaned, and Gregory stifled the grin. He'd won, and they both knew it.
"I'm under two-eighty," Charlie said, relenting to Gregory's determination. "Fuck. If anyone ever finds out, I'll kill you myself."
"Yeah, yeah," Gregory intoned, swinging Charlie's arm over his shoulders to help support his weight. "I just hope the water's still hot, you big baby."
"Bite me," Charlie replied, gritting his teeth as Gregory hoisted him up, supporting his back and carrying his loose leg. Charlie tucked his scarred leg close as they twisted to face the tub.
"Okay, steady," Gregory cautioned, positioning him over the tub. "Grab anything but hair and genitals if you must."
Charlie choked on a laugh, but concentrated on maneuvering a slide into the tub, using his good leg as a brake to ease into the water with Gregory supporting him on the down slope. Together, they eased his lean length fairly smoothly into the water. Charlie hissed, his spine arching as the water enveloped him. Gregory pulled his drenched arms out from beneath him. "Too hot?" Water splashed and lapped hungrily over his body. Lean, and pale tan skin. Gregory wasn't sure just what had happened or what Charlie was dealing with, but there wasn't anything to be embarrassed about with that physique.
"No," he gasped. "It's always a shock."
Gregory pulled the towel off the rod and dried his arms. "You going to be all right?"
Sinking into the water, Charlie massaged his right thigh with his eyes closed. "I think so."
"Okay. I'm going to make those burgers I offered. Yell if you need anything."
Charlie snorted. "You never offered burgers."
"Sure I did. Right between the 'Oh shit' and 'I'm coming over'." He threaded the towel in his hands over the bar and turned to leave, sure Charlie didn't really want an audience.
"Hey, Greg?"
"Yeah?" He paused in the doorway, catching the slightest blush on Charlie's face.
Charlie broke eye contact first. "Thanks."
"Sure, buddy. Relax." His brows tightened as a new thought hit him. "Is there anything you should take for cramps like that?"
"Yeah. There's a muscle relaxer on the fridge. Thought the heating pad would be enough. Those things only work if you can actually get to them," he retorted sourly.
"Okay to take now?"
Charlie nodded, resting his head once more on the rim of the tub. Leaving the naked man in peace, he wondered what had just happened. Returning to the room with the mats first, Gregory surmised this was where he worked out with all the weights lined along the wall. He unplugged the heating pad and slid it on the shelf of the closet to cool. Just what had hurt him so badly? He'd only seen the scar on his chest, unable to fathom what the rest of him looked like. And guiltily, and just as unexplainable, he'd been eyeballing his cock when it was his leg that had been causing him pain. Just thinking about how close it had been to him, to his face, to his lips, made his stomach tighten a little, and not in revulsion.
"You're one sick jerk," he muttered, shaking the thought loose while returning to the kitchen. It was the oddity of the moment. That was all.
He found the bottle of pills, reading the warnings and dosage before getting a pill out to give to Charlie. Then he began prepping the meat for the burgers. With those on a plate, he covered them with a paper towel. Glancing at the kitchen clock, he guessed Charlie had been soaking for about twenty minutes. He strolled to the still-open doorway of the bathroom.
"Turned into a fish yet?" Gregory was glad to see his leg stretched out in the water, relaxed the way it should be.
"Still trying." Charlie lolled to gaze at him. He lifted a dripping hand. "Pruning doesn't mean scales, does it?"
"Afraid not." He leaned on the door, his arms crossed over his chest, purposely keeping his eyes locked on Charlie's face. He wasn't going to be busted for looking at things he shouldn't be.
"Then I guess I'm done. Could you bring me my cane? It's in the living room."
"Sure. Anything else?"
"Other than my dignity, no, I'm good."
Gregory smiled kindly. "You're fine, man. Get dried off. I'm about to make a wreck of your kitchen and you should be there to witness a master at work."
Charlie thumped his head against the wall. The phone was pressed to his ear, and the latest car repair update was going to make him spew some stringently virulent curse words. He needed his car back. "Elizabeth, seriously?"
"I'm sorry." He knew by her tone she really was.
"You said the shop would be done by now."
"Because they told me that," she pointed out, equally frustrated. Her Maxima was her baby, even as old as it was. She sighed. "Three more days, max."
"But my doctor's appointment is this afternoon." Fuck. How am I going to find a ride into Houston?
"I promise, Charlie, as soon as the shop is done, I'll get yours to you. They had to order the parts. I swear, no shop carries parts anymore. They always have to order things, and if that place doesn't have it, then it's another delay for them to get it."
Charlie let out a slow breath. "I know, I know. Okay. How's it going at work?"
"Busy." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "The regional manager has been here since last week. I think something's going on, but I don't know what."
"Bad something?"
"I hope not. Donald hasn't been seen much, so it's hard to say."
Charlie crossed his fingers that her company wasn't next to start downsizing. Fucking economy. "Okay, hang in there." He ran a hand over his head. "I'll figure out something. I'll talk to you this weekend."
"Okay. Love you."
"Love you too, Sissy."
"Brat."
That garnered a faint smile. "Bye."
Hanging up the phone, he looked around his kitchen. How was he going to get to Houston? Cabs were out of his price range for that long of a fare. If he'd been in town, there would be about four different people he could call. No, I couldn't. They haven't talked to me since the fire. Sitting in the closest chair, he stretched out his leg. It was holding him, but it twitched every now and then.
Then he spotted the torn piece of paper with Gregory's information on it, stuck by a magnet to his fridge freezer.
"Well, hell, he's seen you naked," he jeered. "What's a mooched ride?"
He lifted the phone and punched out the numbers.
"Hi, Greg," he said when he answered.
"Hey. How's tricks?"
"You're impossible." Somehow, Greg always had him smiling.
"So says my mother. What's up?"
Charlie rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm in a spot. My sister still needs my car, and I have an appointment this afternoon. Could you drive me to Houston?" He hadn't been thinking of how he'd get there when he'd scheduled the appointment first thing that morning, not remembering he'd let Liz borrow his car while hers was in the shop. It wasn't like he drove every day, so why wouldn't it be sitting out front? Because he was too kindhearted to his family, that's why.
When it took Greg a few minutes to reply, he offered, "I'll pay the gas."
"Huh? Oh, that's not a problem. I was checking my schedule to see if I needed to stop anywhere, take advantage of being up there." A second or two pause. "It doesn't look like it, but I can take my laptop and get some work done anyway."
"I know it's a bitch of a drive---"
"Don't worry about it. When do you need to leave?"
"Within the hour." Damn, he hated this, feeling helpless all over again.
"Okay. Let me kennel Samson and I'll come over."
"Shit. I forgot about him. Let me just reschedule it. I'll wait until I get the car back from Elizabeth."
"It's not a problem. He doesn't freak out alone, but he's been trying to eat my couch a bite at a time if he's left alone for too long."
"You're sure?" At the affirmative, he told Gregory, "Thanks, man. I'll buy dinner."
"You're on." Greg said goodbye, then hung up.
Charlie put the phone back on the wall, then went to his room to change. He had enough manners not to wear sweats to see his shrink.
Twenty minutes later, a horn honked outside. With his cane in his hand, he patted his pockets, and with everything attached or tucked away, he walked outside and locked the door.
The steps were a slow bitch, but once he was on solid ground, he cut a path to the drive and the waiting car.
Settling into the mid-size Jeep, he had to wonder just what guardian angel had dropped Gregory into his life.
"So you do have a car, huh?" Gregory teased.
"Yeah, Elizabeth's went into the shop last week and they've stretched the repair out. It's an older model, so parts are a pain in the ass, but she'd sell her first child to keep her car, if she ever has any."
"She's single?"
"Want to meet her?" Charlie shot back, grinning mischievously.
Greg glanced his way, then shook his head a moment later. "Nah, but thanks."
Charlie studied him, noting a frown on his face. What was that about? "I'm not going to throw my sister at you."
"It's not that," he said distractedly. "So where am I going?"
Charlie let it drop, giving the address and directions.
Gregory paid attention to his driving, though the confusion swamping him made his skin cold.
Three weeks ago, he'd have been all over wanting to meet Charlie's sister. Gregory bet she had similar green eyes and thick blonde hair, and if she looked like her brother---without the masculine edges---she'd be a knockout. Yet now, he had absolutely no interest at all.
Gregory was flying home the following week for Thanksgiving, and crazily, oddly, he didn't want to go.
Why? If the question stumped him, the reasons were enough to make him fall on his ass in denial and shock. Every question and answer running through his brain had to do with the silent guy next to him. And none of them made a lick of sense.
He had friends at home; he loved his parents and adored his brother's wife. Since moving to Texas, he hadn't seen them, or talked to them, nearly enough. The colleges paid better for his services on a lower living expense than in California. Even living on the beach wasn't a huge money crunch.
He should have been eager to go home and see everyone and play at his old stomping grounds with the guys for their annual football game, except he wasn't. There were any number of legitimate reasons behind why he may not want to go this year, but the one he refused to acknowledge with the majority of the weight was sitting right next to him. Try rationalizing that. He couldn't.
Movement caught his attention. Charlie was rubbing his thigh, flexing his leg in timed repetitions. Twitchy fingers tightened on the wheel, miles being devoured by the Jeep. He wanted to help, but had absolutely no idea how.
"You have to work to keep it loose, don't you?"
Charlie swung to look his way. "Yeah."
"Was that what caused the cramp the other day?"
"Sort of. Sometimes it just seizes. No reason."
Gregory couldn't begin to fathom what he had to deal with every day. He remembered the afternoon he'd barged in when just that had happened. The pain Charlie had suffered. No, not pain. Agony. The man had been ready to shatter lying on the bedroom floor. Gregory drew even breaths, hiding his wildly running thoughts from Charlie, sitting less than three feet away.
After the emergency of the moment, his mind went right to his naked form. Something he'd never done in all his life was think of a male body as anything other than...well, a body. Not as a unique person. Not as a sleek form, and definitely not with any kind of interest, as sexy. Even though the majority of him was shrieking at the 'interest' part, a small voice, a very small part was only too happy to keep tugging his attention to the quiet, thoughtful guy at his side.
Okay, he told himself. Let's look at this logically. When was the last date you were on? Gregory had to think, and realized it had been almost a year. What made it seem worse was he'd not only never called her again, but he hadn't missed her companionship.
Okay. Point. Was it just her? Probably. He couldn't even remember her name now. He rolled a shoulder. So he hadn't been on a date in a while. With his workload and Samson, he hadn't really felt the need to squeeze in more.
He knew what it was. He genuinely liked Charlie. They had a similar sense of humor, and remembering the birth date on his prescription bottle, Gregory was barely six years older at thirty-three. He didn't feel pressured to be anything, just hang out, be a guy. Charlie was gay. Fine, but he was a far cry from the funny riot, Laurence, that he'd worked with at the college in California. Laurence was a walking feather boa when he let his girl side out, which was often because he loved to make people laugh. A person either got his over-the-top humor, or they didn't. It hadn't even occurred to Gregory that he should be worried as the only straight guy in that particular group on their floor. Half the time, he helped the other three ensure their pranks would fly, because he could give them the straight perspective.
Administration hadn't always appreciated it, but most of them still laughed, even if it was hidden behind their hands. He'd have to call those jokers. He hadn't realized how long it had been since he'd talked to them.
Glimpsing Charlie again, he noticed he'd let his head rest on the seat with his eyes closed. For the first time, the drawn tightness of his features registered. He looked tired. "You okay?"
"Yeah."
When Charlie wasn't forthcoming with an explanation, he said, "Why don't you catch a nap? There's not much to see on this highway anyway."
"Sorry I'm crappy company, especially after asking for the ride."
Gregory dismissed it. "It's okay. You can drive some on the way back, and pay for dinner," he added for emphasis.
When Charlie chuckled, he felt a slight pitter-pat against his ribs. Shaking his head, he faced the highway, checked the time, and ignored the reaction.
Standing beside the car with his hand on the door, Charlie stretched his leg.
"Not too stiff?"
"My leg?" Charlie teased, following Greg's approach as he rounded the vehicle.
"Jerk-off." Greg put his hands on his hips, a mock scowl on his face.
"Uh-huh." But Charlie couldn't completely hide the grin regardless. "With hot pictures, even."
"TMI, dude."
"Come on, California boy."
Snickering, Greg fell into step at his side, his laptop tucked under an arm. Greg just made it too easy for Charlie sometimes. It was like they'd been friends forever, not weeks. Once inside the building, Charlie headed for the elevators. "It sucks having to drive four hours for a one-hour appointment, but thanks for bringing me." He pushed the button and the silver doors slid open.
"Which doctor?"
Charlie answered with a perfectly straight face, "No, not a witch doctor, a shrink."
Greg shook his head. "You are truly incorrigible."
"We should all shoot for excellence," Charlie replied with sighed innocence and full-blown charm.
Choking on their laughter, Charlie opened the waiting room door. "Go look intelligent. Or at least busy." He waved to well-cushioned chairs against the wall.
Charlie walked up to the half-opened window at the front of the office. "I have a three o'clock with Dr. Morne."
The receptionist typed on her soundless keyboard. He waited, used to the procedure. He'd been seeing Dr. Morne for nearly a year now. "He's almost ready for you. Just have a seat."
His ass cringed at the thought of sitting again, but he sat next to Greg. He was warming up his laptop.
"So how many languages do you translate?"
Greg tapped on the keyboard, saying, "Quite a few. I was a linguistics major in college. Spanish, German, French, Russian, some Hindi and Arabic. I translate documents for the colleges."
"Do you speak any of them?"
"Some Russian. Spanish, though it's so common in the South. French, if I ever go to Canada or Europe."
Charlie tapped his cane on the floor. "I've been trying to figure out what to do with myself since this." He motioned with a weak effort to the cane. "I can't sit for an entire day, can't stand for hours. I don't want to go back to school just to go to school. I need a reason for the expense."
"Understandable."
"Charlie." They both swiveled for the office door. Dr. Morne was exiting with a young woman leaving through the outer office door.
"Time to go get shrunk," he whispered.
"I'll be here."
Charlie laid a hand on Greg's thigh and squeezed. "Thanks."
He doggedly followed Dr. Morne into his office.
"How are you, Charlie?" Dr. Morne asked.
He settled himself into a chair. "Not too bad."
"Any nightmares recently?" In an accompanying chair, Dr. Morne crossed his leg over a knee, his constant the notepad he wrote on propped there.
Charlie slouched, uncaring that it would make his shoulder ache. He'd take a very long, very hot bath later. He wasn't surprised by the question. It was part of the reason he'd made the appointment. He wasn't on a regimen any longer, though he continued to see the psychiatrist when he needed to.
"Two nights now."
"It's not unusual for them to reappear. It allows our minds to release different aspects of the suffered trauma."
"Makes sleeping a bitch," he muttered.
"I'm sure it does." Dr. Morne rolled his pencil between his fingers. "What happened before the nightmares began?"
"My leg seized. I was left incapacitated." His voice had quieted, his eyes open but staring at nothing above him. "My friend, the guy out there, found me. Helped me."
"How did it make you feel?"
"Humiliated, helpless." Cared for. Where that came from, Charlie wasn't completely sure, but he couldn't deny what Greg had done for him. Only a true friend would dunk a bare-assed naked man and make him dinner, not expecting anything in return.
Charlie felt Dr. Morne's speculation. "Are you attracted to him?"
Charlie blinked, gazing right through his doctor. "He's straight, Dr. Morne."
"Doesn't affect how you feel, though. I can appreciate a beautiful woman. My wife understands, but I don't stop caring for her because of it."
Charlie sank down again with his hands clasped over his stomach and grunted. "I'm not ready to feel, Doc," he explained flatly.
"Don't fight what may help you to heal further, Charlie," his shrink cautioned. Charlie knew what he was most likely writing on his notes, but ignored the man's actions, and the underlying meaning in his advice.
Charlie flexed his jaw, then sighed. "He's been a good friend. That's all I have in me to give right now."
"So the doctor said you're fit for public consumption, huh?"
Charlie shook his head, grumbling. "How do you make a sensible question come off sounding so homoerotic?"
Greg shrugged. "A gift?" He grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Those friends I told you about. Laurence would have you in stitches within five minutes."
"You miss your friends, don't you?"
Paused at a stoplight, Gregory waited for it to change. He tapped the wheel, thinking about the question. "Yeah. I do."
"Greg?"
The car picked up speed with traffic. They'd agreed to a Mexican restaurant on the way home. Charlie would drive for an hour or two from there, then let Gregory take over if he needed to stop. Gregory knew he'd been sitting a lot. He didn't want the guy to be in pain.
"Hm?"
"Why don't you have a girlfriend? For that matter, why are you being so nice to me?"
Gregory's head whipped to look at his passenger, then forward, then right back to those green eyes.
"Sheesh. Quit! You're going to have a wreck." Charlie crossed his arms over his chest and looked away.
"You're seriously nuts, man. It's called being a friend." He wished Charlie would look his way. He needed to see the man's expression. "As for the girl, I haven't met one in ages who appealed to me enough to spend my hard-earned money on an empty date, or a play for sex. I have standards. If you hadn't noticed, the beach is only stocked with babes from about May to early October. After that, it's a ghost town."
Charlie snorted. "I noticed. Eye candy goes both ways, you know."
"Huh. Hadn't thought of that. Oiled, nearly naked men?"
"Like shooting fish in a barrel."
Gregory imagined his dirtiest Spring Break possible. Girls covered only by the loosest definition of the term, guys flexing, just being guys, and Charlie and himself having a grand time eyeballing the whole beach. "We'd have a blast."
Charlie tilted, catching him out of the corner of his eye. "You letch."
"And proud of it."
Charlie smiled for the first time since walking out of Dr. Morne's office.
It wasn't quite dinnertime when they hit the restaurant, so they were seated right away.
"Chips and salsa. Gotta. And two teas." The waitress nodded and left them to study the menus. Gregory was feeling pretty good. He'd emailed Laurence while waiting for Charlie, giving an update of himself. He hoped the man replied. He'd been negligent with keeping in contact, and he knew his pals were going to give him shit for it. He was also wondering, again, about the girl question. He wasn't desperate for the company, and hadn't been sweating the lack of sex. So why didn't it bother him more that he hadn't had a date in so long, or even now, wasn't rushing to try to find female companionship now that it had been brought to his attention? And why did the thought of leaving Charlie behind for nearly a week cause him an almost borderline distressed feeling? He honestly had no answer to either question.
There was no doubt his mother was going to do the 'You can't expect one to just land in your lap. Strip clubs don't count' speech over Thanksgiving. Then he'd blush and she'd laugh and that would be it for a while. Just her way of saying, 'Get off your ass and settle down'.
Moms. Gotta love them or they cut the kids out of the wills. He chuckled silently. His mother was the best. His dad, too. If he was happy, then that was all they needed to know.
The waitress popped up, dropped stuff off on the table, and took their orders. Left alone again, Gregory said, "You talked about your sister. Where are your parents? Any other family?" Gregory poured a mountain of sugar into his tea and stirred it in, chasing the lemon with the spoon.
"They're in way north Houston. You need a passport to get to their house."
"So how'd you wind up so far south at the beach?" Testing the tea, he licked his lips. Perfect.
Charlie dunked a chip and munched. "I wanted away from everything. The station, the memories. The beach is different, and this time of year, quiet."
"Is it too soon to tell me what happened?" Gregory asked with a lowered voice.
Charlie's lips pinched and Gregory was going to retract the question, but Charlie told him, "No. You deserve it after the way you helped, and this. But not here." He glanced around, as if studying the décor of the walls surrounding them, making it hard for Gregory to help chase away the shadows dimming his eyes.
Then Charlie's perusal lurched to a stop and his eyes suddenly widened. He quickly returned to the chips in front of him, like they were a mystery to the universe. Searching the restaurant himself, Gregory couldn't see what had disturbed Charlie, but the reason soon showed itself.
A tall, thick man in a fireman's blue uniform stood from a table. Waving a hand impatiently at the woman seated across from him, he stalked up to their table.
"Charles."
Charlie let out a harsh breath and straightened, flicking an unwelcoming, guarded look upward. "Anthony. What do you want?"
"I wanted to eat my meal in peace, but I can't now. Not with your faggot ass here."
Gregory almost choked. The noise drew Anthony's cold blue eyes his way. "Is this your latest fuck toy?"
The woman he'd left behind at the table gasped and blanched, and several nearby had stopped eating to listen or just blatantly watch.
"Dude," Gregory interrupted. "Seriously. Great way to humiliate a man. Do you have this misconception with your wife's girlfriends? You know, two girls eating together, so they must be gay? Because there's medication for it." Charlie's gaze was boring into the table, his shoulders bowed in and his jaw so tight with anger, the lower half of his face was white. He knew there was a story here, and whatever it was had been a nightmare for Charlie. Gregory had never seen him this closed off and furious. Gregory wanted to beat the living shit out of the prick standing over them for causing it. "And sadly for you, your gaydar is way off. I'm straight. So take your foolish mouth back to your table and keep your bigoted ass away from us."
The burly jackass sneered. "Don't hang with him, loser. He'll make you gay." Anthony returned to his table to earn a fierce look from his wife. She was hunched over berating him, but it was falling on deaf ears, that Gregory could tell.
"Let's go," Charlie whispered. "I'm not hungry anymore."
Quietly, a woman in her late fifties with thick, black braided hair and an apron walked up to the table. Ready to get it again, Gregory glared at her.
She pulled out a chair without asking. "Honey, don't let him ruin your day. In about two minutes, my son will be asking him to vacate and never darken our door again."
"You don't have---" Charlie tried to say, apology in every movement.
She interrupted him. "It's my restaurant. I can do whatever I want."
"You're the owner?" Gregory asked, leaning forward.
"Marisa Rios. Nice to meet you, boys. I don't allow that kind of disruption anywhere, least of all in a family restaurant. Your dinners are on me tonight."
"I'm with her," another woman said from the closest booth, looking down her nose in the direction of Anthony's table. "He's an ass." The man at her side nodded.
Gregory saw a flush creep up Charlie's neck. There was power in numbers.
Marisa patted his forearm gently. "Don't worry, honey. Breathe. And let me handle it."
Right then, two younger males walked from the kitchen, the dividing door swinging shut with a whoosh. One had a sack of Styrofoam boxes. They approached the table and spoke to Anthony and his wife. He snarled into the waiter's face, ready to leap to his feet, but the guy without the food leaned on the table and spoke very quietly to him. Gregory was dying to know what was being said.
"Fine. This place sucks." Anthony shoved at the man, pushing him out of his way. He ignored the offered dinners, likely just the fastest way to get them out of the restaurant. "We won't be back."
Gregory laughed when several people started clapping. Charlie snicker-snorted, covering his mouth with his hand.
"I hate that," Marisa muttered as he stomped out the front door, his wife dutifully, if abjectly, following. "Like being a dick because you're Catholic in a Baptist county. Some people just can't grow up."
Charlie cleared his throat. "Thank you, Marisa."
"You two are welcome. Enjoy your dinners." She stood, returning the chair to its place to disappear into the kitchen.
Gregory stretched out his legs under the car's dash, sighing with the pull, getting comfortable now that they were on the road again. "Man, that was sweet of her. I love flan."
Charlie was still embarrassed by the whole encounter. His neck above his thick, royal blue sweater was a red hue. "I just can't figure out how Anthony had even been there. He had to have come off shift still in uniform like that."
"Meh, who cares?" Gregory waved a hand, then settled them over a very full and satisfied stomach. "Jackasses abound."
"No lie that."
"I take it he was one of the crew where you were stationed?"
Charlie nodded, twisting the steering wheel in tight palms. "Yes. I know you deserve the truth, but would the Reader's Digest version work?"
Gregory heard the reluctance. With just the two of them in the car, it couldn't be missed. "Charlie, whatever you want to tell."
They fell silent for a few minutes, then he began. "The nutshell of it is yes, a little more than a year and a half ago, I was stationed with Anthony and several others. I wasn't out to them, and you can see why. Anthony wasn't the only one like that and once I got a clue, I kept my mouth shut. It was fine overall, we were work close. I knew I could trust them, rely on them. We had a good team." He lifted the takeout tea from the holder and drew a sip. Replacing it, he went on with the story. "They thought my partner was just my roommate. He didn't come to the station for anything, so they wouldn't have known. The problem was, because I did work three-day and four-day shifts, Garen had loads of time to fuck around behind my back. His new beau convinced him that getting rid of me was worth murder. Garen spent a night getting me drunk, drugged me, plopped me on my bed, and lit the house up like a Friday night bonfire."
"Holy fuck." Gregory didn't even know how to respond to that.
"His mistake was sending the suicide note to everyone on my e-mail list. Elizabeth got it and immediately called the cops and fire teams. Because of digital delay, the house was in full blaze. Five more minutes and I'd have been a very toasted white boy."
"The scars?"
"From being buried under a collapsed roof support, from my shoulder to my knee. Garen thought he had it planned to perfection, but even drugged, I had enough presence of mind to crawl for a window in the bedroom. Hell, we're trained for those situations. It's instinctive to get out of a fire. I just didn't make it."
"Son of a bitch, Charlie."
He went on as though Gregory hadn't spoken. "I almost died twice. At the fire, and at the hospital. Once the crew learned I was gay, they wrote me off. I haven't spoken to them since. The friends I had were before the fire. After the fire Charlie is a very different person." He glanced toward Gregory. "So that's my sorry, sordid tale."
"And Garen?"
"In prison for arson and attempted murder. His boy is, too. I didn't have to show up. Being almost dead in a hospital ICU is proof enough, I guess."
"Un-fucking-believable," Gregory breathed.
"Yeah, it sucked too. It had been my great-grandmother's house."
"Ah, damn." He shook his head, appalled.
"Mom was ready to kill them herself. It wasn't big, and it had issues, but I loved it. Had some wonderful memories of Gram, my grandmother. Another reason it was susceptible to arson. It was just old."
Gregory reached over and formed a hand to Charlie's thigh in sympathy. "That was wrong on so many levels."
Charlie cupped his palm over Gregory where he held his leg. "Thanks. For all you've done. You're the best." He squeezed Gregory's hand, which was a nice return.
The unexpected stroke of his thumb over Gregory's knuckles made his heart do that pitter-pat thing into his ribs again. Harder and a lot more noticeable. Crazily, his heart wasn't the only thing that throbbed.
He withdrew his hand with a last comforting tap, ignoring the sudden rush of heat that roared up his arm and down his body. Charlie continued driving as though nothing had happened. Just two friends, bonding. Except the sensation across his knuckles had migrated to various appendages. It was all he could do not to adjust himself and make it even more noticeable.
Time to move on.
"Oh, before I forget, I'm flying to California for turkey next week. Tuesday to Sunday."
Charlie nodded. "Okay. I'm sure they'll be glad to see you. How long have you been here?"
Gregory replied having forgotten the little white lie he'd told when they'd met. "Four years now."
Charlie frowned. "You lied to me? Just moved here, my ass."
It was Gregory's turn to blush. Damn! "Okay, busted. But it's really the only thing."
"Honest?" The suspicious look Charlie gave Gregory made him want to squirm, unrelenting for honesty. What else could he have lied about? He fought to remember, and came up blank.
"Totally."
Charlie didn't push, though his gaze remained accusing. "What about Samson?"
"I'll take him with me. I don't want to kennel him at the vet for five days."
Charlie nodded. They both fell silent for the remainder of the drive.
Gregory stirred when the car stopped moving. "Time for me to take over?" He yawned and stretched.
"Yeah, if you want to get home. Or you could sleep in the car. Doubt it'll be comfortable though."
Gregory noticed they were parked in front of Charlie's bungalow. "Smartass." He opened his door, bending to pop his spine. He moaned when it cracked.
"You sound like an old man," Charlie joked from the other side of the Jeep.
Gregory flipped him off, smiling when Charlie laughed. Two peas, he mused. He shut his door, then walked around the front to take the driver's seat.
Charlie waited, leaning on his cane. Except for looking worn out, he didn't seem to be in pain. "Okay. I'll talk to you later."
Gregory was getting settled in the car, almost ready to hit reverse, when Charlie reached the steps to his front door. Charlie's gait was stiff from sitting for so long. For some reason, he paused, knowing Charlie didn't need the help, but unable to just desert the man. Gregory's excuse was his headlights lit up the front of the house. With a sigh of relief, Gregory followed his movement from the driver's seat as Charlie stiffly scaled the steps.
It was when he was standing at the door that his leg gave out on him.
Gregory was out of the car and dashing across the small yard before he realized what he was doing.
Charlie was cursing a blistering string of profanity, holding his weight on a hand and trembling.
Tenderly, Gregory eased his palms under his arms and hefted him up. "Lean on me," he whispered. Tight as a stretched cable everywhere, Charlie obeyed, bracing his torso on Gregory's shoulder with a slung arm. "Keys?"
Charlie dug them out and plopped them into his outstretched hand.
"It's okay," Gregory crooned.
"Fucking humiliating," Charlie bit out.
Gregory had the oddest urge to soothe him, to hold Charlie, ease the torment he suffered. He got the door unlocked to push it in. "Come on. Let's get inside." Once in, he found a light switch. He held Charlie close, his head on Gregory's shoulder. The scent of warm skin and clean male engulfed Gregory's senses. There was no doubt his heart was reacting to it, because his heart wasn't alone. His skin felt flushed everywhere Charlie touched, even the harsh pants of his breathing through his shirt. Gregory pushed it away. He couldn't think about it now. Not when Charlie was barely standing, and gritting his teeth in frustration and pain. "How are you feeling now?"
"Like I want to shoot myself," came the flat snarl.
"Shut up." Gregory wasn't sure there wasn't a level of truth to that statement, as despondent as he sounded. "You don't have a gun, do you?"
Charlie barked a sour laugh. "No. I'm pissed, not suicidal."
His groused reply calmed the rising fear in Gregory. "Okay. Can you stand yet?" Gregory had been embracing Charlie for a few minutes, one of Charlie's arms clutched around Gregory's waist for support with his own arms around Charlie's frame. Gradually, the tremors and heaves that had rocked his body ceased.
Whether it was accidental or not, a shift of weight brought their bodies closer. Gregory froze as their lengths came together.
Charlie was sporting a hell of a boner behind his jeans. It stole Gregory's breath away.
Charlie cleared his throat. "Yeah, I think I can now." The raw depth of those words shook him.
They straightened, but when they should have let their arms release each other, neither did. Gregory stared into his smoldering green eyes. Daring green eyes that whispered promises and hungry desires. Things that Gregory didn't understand and couldn't imagine, but felt safe with Charlie. A current that kept him frozen as surges of desire swept over him.
Charlie leaned forward, just a fraction, and Gregory felt panting breath on his lips. His heart pounded. Blood raced. Skin burned. There was no doubt his cock was paying attention, because it was growing painfully hard inside his jeans.
The epiphany was startling, shocking, and confusing as hell.
He was attracted to Charlie.
But he couldn't be. Gregory wasn't gay.
Gregory blinked and unwound his hold. The urge to flee screamed at him. "You okay?"
Charlie's gaze sank, gold lashes hiding him. "Yes. Thank you." With a purposeful effort, Charlie steadied his weight on his cane, releasing Gregory's waist completely. "Seems you're always picking me up off the ground."
"That's what friends do," he managed, trying for flippant and coming out way too tender. He sent the order to his brain to make his legs take a step away. They finally obeyed. "I better get home. Samson probably has to pee a river."
Charlie chuckled, though it sounded forced. Slipping out the door, Gregory escaped to his still-running Jeep with long, ground-eating strides. He slammed the door closed and released a shuddering breath. The man had been turned on, and unless he needed to take Chemistry 101 again, Charlie had almost kissed him, came damned close to kissing him.
What shook Gregory's world was that Charlie wasn't the only one who had been feeling the attraction. The sheer want had been electric. Gregory couldn't recall feeling the need to close the gap between his lips and Charlie's like he had just now. Not between himself and a woman, and never with another man. A shudder rocked him as he maneuvered the Jeep onto the road.
He was still full and aching as he pulled up in front of his home, his own dick showing a lot of interest in the heated secrets Gregory had seen in Charlie's green eyes.
The following day, while engrossed in a political translation from Russia, Gregory's e-mail dinged. Opening the new window, he smiled, seeing Laurence's e-mail address.
Well, look who finally decided to remember the country DOES expand beyond the Texas state line. I'm glad you emailed. Are you doing the annual Thanksgiving trip? Let me know. You're going to want to be here.
Hugs and all that sloppy crap,
Laurence.
Gregory wrote him with the trip details and within ten minutes had a reply.
Awesome. Can you make a party on Saturday? I know it's short notice. I'll send the invite to your mom's ASAP. The whole gang will be here.
Don't make me beg or blackmail.
Hugs,
L.
Gregory leaned back into his chair. "Huh. What does he have up his sleeve?"
I'll be there. Send it. Now you have me curious.
He snickered, hitting send.
Babe, it's the spice of life. See you next week.
Now Gregory knew he was going, just to see what the troublemakers were up to.
Charlie lay on the mats, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Pushups, crunches, and leg lifts, oh my. The wizard behind the curtain has nothing on me. He felt like he should beat his chest or something. At least his arm had stopped shaking from the exertions. He'd been sure to do his total workout circuit since the day he'd all but face-planted on the front step. Or maybe he should just get the damn knee brace his PT had been telling him would "help". It wasn't the knee so much that was giving out, but the weight-bearing tendon on the outside of his thigh, as well as his damaged hamstring muscle and that tendon. His knee just wasn't able to compensate for the workload of an entire tendon.
He'd call the center and get a recommendation, then have them order it. He sat and reached forward to unwrap the Velcro band on the weights on his ankles as someone knocked on the front door. He wasn't expecting anyone, so he didn't rush to see who it was.
He needn't have worried. The door creaked open.
"Charlie?" It was Greg.
"Back here." The door shut and footsteps were heard on the wood floors. He kept his gaze averted when Greg paused in the doorway. Since that trip to Houston days before, Charlie had been having problems controlling a certain physical reaction whenever he thought about the other man. Fuck. I almost kissed him. It's a wonder he's still talking to me. And don't get him started on the dreams. Life really loved being a bitch to him.
"Did I interrupt?"
He shook his head, yanking the weight free. "Just finished." He folded it over and placed it next to its twin.
"Want a hand up?"
Charlie rolled a shoulder, wiped a sweaty hand on his leg, and then raised it. Greg's hold was firm, warm, dry. With a smooth tug, Charlie was standing in front of him, facing him. "Thanks." Soft brown eyes, with tons of character. No way they could ever be called boring. "What's the special occasion?"
"Huh? Oh." Greg grinned, giving off waves of boyish charm to tuck his fingers into his jeans pockets. He made Charlie's head spin with renewed need. "I'm heading to the airport and wanted to wish you a good Thanksgiving. You going to your parents?"
"I'm going to try. I might stay the night, not make it a round trip. Samson good to go?"
"Yeah, he's being babied like you wouldn't believe. I hope it doesn't traumatize him. It's only for a few hours overall."
"He'll be fine." Charlie offered to ease the shadow of worry in his friend's eyes. Charlie knew Greg loved his dog. He palmed his cane, gathering it off the wall where it waited whenever he worked out. Yeah, definitely going to look into that brace.
"Charlie?"
He shivered, his lashes dropping a fraction. This was getting out of hand if just the depth of his voice was now making him react. He couldn't become involved, and didn't it just suck that he was getting turned on by his only friend, a straight friend. Greg's palm curved over his shoulder.
That he could almost deal with, determined to hide how much Greg was getting to him.
But when he swept his thumb up, caressing the heated damp of Charlie's neck, it felt like a fuse had been lit under the stroke of a flint. He couldn't stop the physical reaction. He could only pray Greg wouldn't notice it, because there was no doubt his cock was enjoying the sensation of his neck being stroked by the rough texture of that thumb.
Charlie swallowed down the tide of desire that Greg caused. He doesn't know what he's doing. Doesn't know what it's doing to me.
"If you drive up there, make sure you take some breaks."
Charlie felt the urge to laugh hysterically. Shit, he's warning me not to fall on my ass, and I wish I could see his. He forced his eyes to Greg's, hiding the tumultuous reactions behind a broad grin. "Yes, Mother."
"Dork."
Charlie decided right then that brown eyes warmed with humor should be considered a deadly weapon. "Go. Have a good holiday."
"You too. I'll see you Sunday or Monday."
Charlie walked Greg to the front door, offering a wave as he drove away. Slowly he closed, then locked the door. Leaning against it, his eyes dropped shut. He panted as his heart raced, and his dick ached for a man he didn't want to want, for a man he couldn't have even if he did.
Gregory sat behind the wheel, glad there was a long drive for once. His reactions to Charlie, the urges he'd been fighting were driving him insane, confusing the shit out of him. He could have called, but felt that was a cheap out. Charlie was his friend. One of the few he had, and really the only one in town.
He swept a hand down his face, remembering the heat of his skin against his palm. A shuddering breath slipped from him. "What is going on with you, Gregory?" he muttered.
He replayed the moments in his mind. All he'd wanted to do was wish him a good holiday. See if he had plans to drive to his parents. Yes, deep down, it worried him that he would make the drive and might have problems, but that was only one friend caring for another. Wasn't it? He knew the long drive would be a strain on him, especially after sharing it with him and seeing it for himself.
Approaching the spare bedroom door, finding Charlie on the workout mats, and not in thick clothes or sweaters, but a sweat-damp T-shirt that hugged his torso and black sweats, had made his legs feel weak. He was facing the door so Gregory could pull him straight up. Once he was standing in front of him, Gregory couldn't think of what to say.
When did a man's chest become hot? Charlie's was cut, defined. Gregory could tell he took care of himself, not letting what happened slow him down. But all he'd seen when he reached the room was a strong body, wide shoulders, and green eyes that were starting to haunt his dreams. Not just any green, a deep green, like a Christmas tree green.
"You just need to find a woman to go out on a date with, that's all," he convinced himself. "You've been alone for too long. The holidays are coming. Then spring, and the beach will be packed again in the summer. You're fine." He continued to reiterate those facts the whole drive.
The hard-ons he'd been battling were anomalies from being alone, not because he was attracted to Charlie. He was a great guy, but as a friend. Only as a friend. He wasn't homophobic. Some of his best and craziest friends at home in California had been gay. Gregory had straight and even married friends. Leaving any of them behind had sucked, he couldn't argue that. He'd had to move on to get ahead.
Charlie was a good friend, one he genuinely liked and felt like he could do any asinine thing and be forgiven, a true friend, giving him the same respect. He could live with that. It didn't mean he was attracted to him. It had been stress and worry, that's all.
Letting out a relieved breath that all was right in his world again, he checked on Samson sound asleep on the backseat, with the travel cage and luggage in the rear of the Jeep. California, here we come.
Gregory arrived without any problems, was slobbered on by an ecstatic Samson, and both were picked up by his mother at LAX.
"Oh! He's adorable!" She cooed at Samson, who wagged his tail in greeting from inside his cage.
"You do mean me, right?"
She smacked Gregory's arm, giving him that patient mother's smile. "Yes, dear, you too."
Once they were on the road, she dug into her purse. "Here. I got this and was told to give it to you immediately. What is Laurence doing these days?"
"I'm not sure." He gripped the linen envelope. "Fancy. I wonder why he didn't invite me before he knew I was coming to see you guys?"
"Maybe he didn't want to influence your trip?" his mother suggested.
"Maybe," he parroted, distracted. He ripped the flap, sliding out the invitation. The embossed card immediately got his attention. "I'll be damned."
"Gregory."
"Stop with the guilt trip. I've heard you in the garden."
His mother blushed, but didn't deny it. "What does it say?"
"He and Josh are getting married. This is their engagement party."
"And they didn't invite you?"
"I kind of fell out of touch over the last year. They probably thought I'd written them off. It's not like I live two 'burbs over any longer."
"Yeah." She nodded her head wistfully. "It's hard. You get older, get married, get jobs, move." She glanced at him, those brown eyes sharp as ever. "What about you?"
"You drive." He motioned forward with a hand. For a woman in her late fifties, he knew better than to go head to head with her. He'd lose, every time. "No one yet," he replied.
"Are you looking, honey?" She asked this with a motherly note of concern. Tiny frown lines formed between her eyebrows, proof she'd had plenty of practice over the years, thanks to him he was sure.
"No, not really. It's a tourist town. There's barely ten thousand there year-round. I have a better chance in Corpus or Houston, but I don't have a need to go there often." He remembered the trip he'd made with Charlie just last week. It was the first trip he'd made in almost three months, and his next one wasn't scheduled until after the holidays. And the fact that he'd had more fun just hanging out with him than anyone in recent memory, female or male, wasn't lost on him. He shook his thoughts loose of the other man. Gregory was in California for the next five days, and Charlie would be fine. He'd been on his own for over a year. Gregory's appearance in his life wouldn't change that.
Then why do you keep circling around the fact that you honestly didn't want to come this year? Because of Charlie. He swallowed the groan. He fell silent, not able to tell his mother more. It was too confusing for him, no matter how secure he convinced himself he was, something would rock that and he would be back to questioning and doubting what he'd always assumed was irrefutable.
"Are you going?" She glanced toward the card.
He tapped the corner on his thigh absently. "Oh, definitely. Those jokers invite me last minute? I'll give them hell."
"I'll send something with you. They don't have to ignore the whole family because you're a plane ride away."
Gregory smiled at his mom. "I'll remind them. I'm sure they'll appreciate it."
Working with Laurence, RJ, and Josh at the college for seven years, during and after his classes were complete, they'd grown close, and Mickie adored them all, like extended family, or more sons. She had room for as many kids as needed her, though she only had him and his older brother, Jay.
"I'll call them as soon as we get to the house. Get the details."
"See if one of their friends has a single sister."
Gregory rolled his eyes, but didn't rise to the bait.
Charlie flopped onto the spare bed at his parents' home as soon as he arrived, exhausted after making the drive to northwest Houston. His parents were nearly in The Woodlands, which meant he had to drive clear through Houston. No wonder he chose to live near the beach. People were ruthless drivers in Houston. There was no 'better man' mentality here. It was kill or be killed.
He tossed an arm over his eyes and slowly let the stress and tension, not to mention the strain on his leg and back, drain away.
He must have dozed off; he heard the front door close, bringing him awake. "Charlie? Is that your car?"
"Yes, Mom. I'm here." He groaned, rolling to sit up. "I thought I'd come a day early and go home on Friday," he called to her.
"Okay." There was noise in the kitchen. It wasn't the house he'd been raised in. His parents had sold that one. This one was a single-story, plain home, closer to his father's job, and considering the inner-city traffic, Charlie didn't blame him one bit. The house wasn't anything too fancy, but appropriate for the area, what some called cookie cutter-style homes. His parents were happy with it. They kept the extra bedrooms furnished in case he or his sister came for a weekend. He'd been guilty of not visiting since he'd moved after the fire. He'd stayed with them for months recovering, but they'd understood, he hoped, that he needed to get away from where it had all come crashing down around him. Just one of the many reasons why he'd added an extra day to the trip north.
It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he missed Gregory, and had felt more alone since he'd left for California himself.
Planting his cane to hold him, he stood from the bed, not even quibbling over the fact that he needed it after that drive. He'd called the physical therapy center before making the drive, but with the holiday, there was no chance of meeting with his PT to be sized for the right brace. He'd have to either make the trip again or see if a local center could get the specs and send them to the offices there in Houston.
A third trip just wasn't something he wanted to even think about at the moment.
Walking down the hall by frames of photos of himself, Elizabeth and their parents, he took in the pale walls, the low-pile carpet and the small decorations, familiar knickknacks from his childhood. She'd done a trim of trellis roses on a wallpaper border along the top of the walls at the ceiling. It was homey. He liked it. Gratefully, the one picture she'd had of himself and Garen had come down long ago.
"The house looks good, Mom." He bent and kissed her cheek. "The trim is new?"
She nodded. "Did it over the summer." She was emptying grocery sacks full of goodies and ingredients for cooking the next day.
"Anything you need help with?"
She smiled up at him. "No, I'm fine, baby. Go rest. You look dead on your feet."
"I feel it. Haven't been sleeping well."
She cupped his cheek. "It's okay. Your father won't be home for a couple hours yet, and Elizabeth won't be here until tomorrow morning. Go relax."
He kissed her again. "Thanks. I think I will."
Charlie guessed he'd been asleep for hours, because it was pitch dark when the dream woke him up. Well, the dream and the excruciating hard-on.
He curled up under the blankets, but had to stretch to lay on his back to alleviate the pressure on his balls.
His sweats and sweater were on the end of the bed because he'd stripped to relax more deeply. It apparently had worked. He twisted his head. The numbers on the bedside clock said it was past two in the morning. He'd slept for not quite eight hours, something he hadn't been able to accomplish in weeks. Running a hand down his hip, he unconsciously massaged his thigh. Shivers still sparked in diminishing bursts as remnants of the dream faded.
The dream had been so vivid, he'd awakened with the hardest erection ever in his boxers. The loose material had caressed him, much the way he'd dreamed of the hand touching him. A breath shuddered his chest where he lay flat. With his eyes still closed, he could envision the images, and focusing on them only made them sharper, fuller. He panted with a low groan. The hand on his thigh drifted.
Damn the wanting. He didn't know when it had started, but he knew who it was haunting him. Oh, did he know.
Gregory Anders. His one friend in the whole fucking world, who was still talking to him after he'd almost kissed him. Who still treated him like a man after watching him crumble, and bathed his bare-naked ass like a baby. His hand lightly folded over his covered cock and he shivered.
It didn't matter that the other man was straight. Subconsciously, he'd been fueling some fucking erotic dreams, fantasies his body was beginning to respond to when nothing had gotten to him in over a year. Charlie didn't want to want the man. Hell, Greg was straight, but try telling that to his raging libido.
The heated grip of his hand moved up, then down, not tight, just a light stroke. He hated himself, but it didn't stop the craving. Couldn't stop the wanting.
The dreams almost always began with that moment when they'd held each other, his arm around Greg's waist and both of his around Charlie. It had been so long since he'd just been held, it had made him feel lightheaded. His hand moved again, his spine arching as pleasure and desire flared bright in a larger-than-life sensation along his whole body.
Charlie had responded instantly to the contact, to the scent of warmed skin. He'd tried not to move, not to let the other man know what was happening, but then Greg had shifted, bringing their bodies closer. Charlie couldn't have hid his reaction with the way they pressed together.
His fist tightened in answer to the remembered moments, the sensations, the rough scrape of denim, the smooth cotton of Greg's shirt under his fingers. The movement of flesh beneath that thin barrier.
In his dreams, Charlie got to kiss him. He devoured Greg, breathing with him, tasting him. Lying on the bed, his hand moved on its own now, fueling the fire his dreams had lit. He eased his thighs open, wanting to feel the weight of Greg over him, pressing into him, chest to chest, all the while suckling on his tongue and lingering on his lips.
Greg's mouth was an incredible fantasy-maker. Lips that weren't too thin, lips that knew how to smile.
Charlie moaned softly, arching his neck, feeling the flickered heat of Greg's kisses, the tasting torment of his tongue. The dreams had given him many fantasies.
"You taste good," Greg would whisper, nibbling with little sipped kisses and love bites down his neck to grasp the flesh of Charlie's shoulder between his teeth, just hard enough to make him shudder and moan with desire. "Mmm, are you going to come for me, baby? I love watching you stroke that thick cock. Drives me wild."
Charlie's body shivered harder, his hand obeying the secret fantasy, the raw desire. Greg would be the kind to drive him slowly out of his mind, make him crave and beg, then shatter his world with ecstasy.
He didn't remember doing it, but he canted a knee, pushing into the now-tight cage of his fist, pumping his cock with hard thrusts of his hips. The glitter of desire in Greg's brown eyes drove him, hungrily watching every motion.
"God, you're sexy," his fantasy Greg breathed. "I want you."
There would be no hesitation, their bodies attuned and eager. He would be considerate of Charlie's leg, caressing and crooning as Charlie raised himself for Greg's dick.
"Please," Charlie moaned; whether in the fantasy or for real he didn't know, and couldn't care less.
"I got you, baby." The swipe of a tongue over his spine made his fantasy self shiver. Charlie trembled, his cock swelling in his hand, so lost in the fantasy, his ass clenched in eager anticipation of the invasion to come. Greg would take his time, tormenting with pleasure until Charlie was reduced to whimpered pleas. "You are the sexiest man I know." Charlie wanted to sob, starved for the attention, but dying for release more.
Then the pressure of a slick coated finger would send his world careening, his body shaking with the need for release.
"Not yet," Greg said into his ear, Charlie's hand moving faster over the fabric of his boxers. His body clenched, his asshole burning with the need to be filled.
With the patience of a man who loved him, Gregory would prepare him, touch him and not be disappointed or shy away from the body he now had. Charlie had never forgone a condom in his life, but somehow, the deeper desire of what he wanted with Gregory eliminated it from his fantasy.
"Oh, God," he groaned, biting his lip, rolling his head on the pillow as the heat of being filled, one slow inch at a time, swept over him. His skin felt hot, his breathing labored and sharp.
"Take it, gorgeous. Every last inch."
"Fuck me," he breathed.
"For the rest of my life," Gregory replied, then with a steady arm on Charlie's hip, withdrew, teasing him, to push in until their bodies were one.
Charlie cried out, stuffing his knuckles into his mouth to bite them, to muffle the cry as spunk erupted beneath his boxers. White dots shot across his closed eyelids as his hips thrust, his balls squeezing tight with each spurt.
Panting for breath, he gradually returned to the dark quiet of his borrowed bedroom, his ass clenching, empty. The vision of a passionate Greg faded, the craved heat of their bodies, the taste of him on his tongue, gone.
He tossed an arm over his eyes, hiding from reality. Physically, a shower would cure his immediate problem.
Emotionally, he was a wreck with no hope in sight.
Wanting the man was bad enough.
It was a dead-end hope for him completely.
Charlie couldn't trust to love again, and the biggie: Greg was straight.
"Gregory!" The door swung open Saturday night and Laurence, all five-feet-nine inches of the lightweight man, leaped into his arms.
Gregory laughed as he was hugged tighter than a starving boa constrictor by Laurence. "Hey, string bean!"
"Bite my ass."
Gregory slid a laughing bundle of exuberance to the floor. "Nope. Josh would smash my lights."
"Not in your case," Josh said, coming up behind Laurence and tugging him backwards into his body. "You're family. That's a free pass."
Gregory hooted, bending to lift the gifts he'd put down to knock. It wasn't the first time he'd been greeted a la Laurence, and he doubted it would be the last. The man was almost as bad as Samson, just better housebroken. "Here. One's from me, the other one is from Mom, and she said quit ignoring her."
Laurence held his hand up, letting Gregory walk into the packed house. "I swear, she's invited to the wedding."
"She better be, or I'll never hear the end of it."
Laurence's baby blue eyes twinkled. "Come on in." He twisted to shout over his shoulder, uncaring of the people in the living room, or in the path of his voice. "RJ! Damn you, man! Get in here!"
Josh eased the two wrapped packages out of his hands. "Glad you could make it." He smiled at Gregory with an unrestrained happiness that had been a long time coming for the pair.
"What were you two thinking? Not inviting me?"
Laurence's smile wavered. "You went quiet on us, Gregory. You didn't answer any e-mails."
"I didn't get any," he replied, helpless.
"I told you!" RJ bounded into the room, two guys and a woman on his heels. "The man has never checked his spam folder. Do you even know where it is?"
"Sure I do. It's right next to the spumante folder." He laughed with their group-wide groan. "Anita!" He swallowed her up into a hug.
"Hi, handsome." She pecked him on the cheek. Stepping back, she folded her hand into her husband Trace's.
"Good to see you, Gregory." They shook hands.
He sighed in happy pleasure. Surrounded by friends again, he felt lighter than he had in days.
"Next time, call. It's an amazing invention," Gregory teased Laurence.
Laurence yelped, yanked away with a tug on his hand, literally, in another direction, laughing as he was sucked into the crowd. RJ hugged Gregory and he settled in to see what his friends from home were up to.
Standing on the patio with a beer a little while later talking to Josh, Laurence, RJ and his boyfriend Toby, they rehashed memories under lantern lights and streamers. The backyard was lit with tiki torches while music and laughter rolled in waves from inside the house where the party was being held. Gregory discovered it was a friend of Laurence's and Josh's who'd volunteered to host the crowd. The man was a brave being.
"So who's the lucky girl back home for you?" Josh asked.
Laurence nestled against the bigger body of Josh, a sigh of contentment hitting Gregory hard. Their combined happiness was the kind of happy Gregory wanted, but for some reason, the who was eluding him. Tipping his bottle, he swallowed a few, feeling off kilter again. "I don't have one."
"You're kidding? A hot stud like you? The beach babes should be all over you," Laurence cried.
Gregory smirked at his friends and their mutually appalled expressions, like he was some Lothario of the beach. "If I left my house, maybe. I work from home, guys. Unless I meet her in the produce aisle, I'm not finding her."
"Cucumbers," RJ snickered from behind his own drink.
Laurence blushed to the roots of his platinum blond hair. "Shut. Up!"
RJ raised his hands in surrender. Gregory smiled, aware he'd missed something, but it was to be expected. Especially with these three.
"Has anyone caught your eye? Four years is a long time." Josh studied him with understanding and concern. Until the recent lack of communication, Gregory had kept them up on his shenanigans. There really hadn't been a long-term anyone since he'd moved to Texas. Being close in age, he and Josh had looked out for each other, tight friends who'd stayed that way. Gregory couldn't imagine giving up any of his closest friends, even if they were states away.
As for Josh, he had fought long and hard to corner Laurence and then keep him. Josh had been in love with him for over a year before Laurence even had a clue, then the real work began, because Laurence was a bitch, both in and out of bed if their stories were to be believed. But once that animal had been tamed, Laurence was no one's but Josh's. It went without saying that if anyone understood the dry spell Gregory had been in, he did.
"All I have is a friend I met a few weeks ago on the beach. Charles Baker. Charlie. He was a fireman, but was released after an injury. I know you guys would like him." Picturing Charlie with this group made him smile. Gregory knew he'd like them. Honestly, it would be damned fantastic.
"A fireman." Laurence purred in appreciation, his eyelids drifting to half-mast. Gregory doubted he wanted to know what he was thinking.
"Down, baby." Josh tugged on his shoulder, forming them frame to frame, then locking him tight with a forearm across his chest. The underemphasized shit-eating grin Laurence gave Gregory proved it had been a ploy, and it worked. He just shook his head, chuckling silently at the power play. Laurence may be the smaller man, but it was clear who ruled.
"Why don't you bring him to the wedding? A friend of yours is a friend of ours," RJ offered.
Bring Charlie? Why did that make his heart trip the way it had before he'd left? He realized he missed the other man, and that was only adding to his dilemma of what was wrong. There wasn't much he could do about it right then. Gregory shrugged. "I can ask him. He'd probably love it. He's been secluded since his injury."
"Oh," Laurence breathed in sympathy. "Poor man. We'll find him a couple girls to coddle him while he's here. Nothing like a little attention to perk a man right up."
"I'd say yes, but I doubt that would help. One, you'd need guys, and two, he's very reserved." Considering the tragedy and trauma the man had suffered, it was a wonder he'd spoken to Gregory at all that day on the beach. He wasn't so sure Gregory himself wouldn't have kissed off anything to do with socializing after what Garen had done.
"Wait." RJ blinked, fisting a hand to his hip. "He's gay?"
"Not on a Laurence level, but yeah, he's out."
Laurence flipped him off, Gregory grinning evilly in return. He just caught the look Josh and RJ shared, dismissing it as he drained his beer.
"Another?" RJ wrenched the drained bottle out of his fingers before he'd even finished the action of swallowing the last dregs, Gregory gaping after as he whirled and disappeared inside, Toby trailing hot on his heels.
"Uh, sure?" he replied.
"Babe, go tell Micro Man to bring out some snacks, could you?" Josh smooched Laurence's lips, then swatted his black chino-covered ass.
The blond purred, then followed after RJ.
"You guys have perfected that to an art," Gregory intoned drily.
"What?" Josh's eyebrows rose, innocence not reached.
"Okay, what do you want to tell me?"
Josh motioned with a head tilt to take them further into the yard. "Tell me about Charlie."
"Huh?" They both stopped at the edge of the bricks. "Why?"
"Just tell me how you met him." Confused, Gregory did. Then, "Have you spent time with him?" Josh crossed his arms, listening, watching, but for what Gregory couldn't have said if his life depended on it.
"Yeah, a football game the first day we met, and he needed a ride not too long ago." He frowned. "What's up with the interrogation, Josh?"
Josh ran a hand around his neck. "Gregory, don't take this the wrong way, but you literally light up when you talk about him."
"What?" Gregory's mouth fell open.
"You weren't even like this when you dated Rachel, and I know you cared for her a lot."
Gregory shrugged, that particular girlfriend deep in his history. "So?"
"Okay, let me take this another direction. Your best friends are gay. Your closest friend where you live now, is gay."
Gregory sighed with growing exasperation. "Josh, I'm not gay."
"Not saying you are," he continued amicably. "But I think you do like Charlie."
"He's a great guy, of course I do." He spread his palms out, confused again.
"So it wouldn't bother you if he hooked up with a boyfriend this week while you're out of town?" Josh's gray eyes darkened, intense astuteness zeroed in on every facet of Gregory's reaction.
Gregory was ready to answer that, sure of the words that would fall from his lips. He said, "I'd hate it."
Stunned silent, Gregory wanted to hit rewind and edit because that wasn't what he'd planned on saying.
Josh smiled gently and placed a kind hand on his shoulder. "Gregory, I think Charlie means more to you than a friend. I'm not telling you to change teams, but if you're not sure one way or the other, someone will be hurt if you can't decide. You can't keep him if you don't want him for yourself. If he finds someone, then you'll be hurt, and none of us want to see that. You're our other brother."
Gregory was gaping in utter disbelief at what Josh was all too broadly hinting at. "You think...me...Charlie..."
Josh shook his head. "I'm not saying I think anything, Gregory, but I've only seen you with that expression one other time, and she's long gone and married to someone else. So you tell me. What does Charlie mean to you?"
He dragged a trembling hand over his head. "Josh." Gregory wanted to run. Wanted to run from the knowing kindness of his friends, from the confusion that had grown from a mild irritation and sometimes hindrance to a full-blown tsunami in his gut. "I don't know what to do," he finally whispered, his stomach crunched in on itself so tight, he knew in a few more seconds he'd be doubled over.
"The only suggestion I have is be open." Josh looked over Gregory's shoulder and shook his head, obviously keeping the others at bay, which was fine with him. Gregory wasn't even sure which way was up at the moment. "You probably don't know this, but I was exactly like you before Laurence. That man drove me insane, and not sexually in the beginning. All I could see was disco balls and sequins when he walked into a room. It's his natural effervescence and I was still trying to justify how it made me feel because I didn't want to want another man. When I finally admitted I cared, well, you were around for that circus. If I ever lost Laurence, I'm not sure I could find anyone else." He swallowed, a thin sheen making his eyes glisten. "For me, he's the real deal. Do you really think I'm going to say fuck it and toss that away because he's a guy? So people have felt the need to label it. It means jack to me, or to him. What matters to us is we love each other."
Josh's hand slid away. "Maybe the package the happiness comes in wouldn't be such a controversy if more people honestly cherished the happiness to begin with." Josh paused, standing at his shoulder before leaving Gregory to gather himself together again. "Just remember. You're our friend, our brother from those crazy years before, until we're old and gray and shooting the shit at the retirement home. We do want you to be happy, and no matter who you brought home to meet us, we'd love them too."
Gregory swallowed hard, staring off into the shadows of the decorated yard as Josh left him, fighting not to let the tears in his eyes fall free. He'd never been emotional, but the urge to crouch and hide his face in his hands until he couldn't spare another drop beat at him. Confusion, emotions, and the silent whisper that what Josh said might just be true swirled through him.
Gregory remembered those years, his mid-twenties, finishing his degree and freelancing through his college and garnering respect and contacts with others. The friendship Josh, Laurence and RJ had offered had been unconditional. He'd even taken Rachel on dates with them, though Josh was still snarling and generally annoyed with Laurence back then. What they had now hadn't started as a loving relationship. More like a tiger and grizzly bear in the same cage.
"Sequins and disco balls." He almost snorted. That was Laurence to the letter. Nothing held him down, but there was no arguing how much calmer he was with Josh around, and how much happier both men were. Drawing a slow breath, he imagined introducing Charlie to the three stooges.
With his breathing even, he closed his eyes and pictured Charlie. The beach-blond short hair and green eyes. The broad cheekbones that gave him a generous mouth. The wicked sense of humor that played so well between them both. Images continued to appear.
The dark blue T-shirt sculpting what his large sweaters camouflaged. Gregory still had no idea what the extent of Charlie's scars were. Running his hands over his jeans, he realized it didn't matter.
Biting his inner cheek, the only thing he wasn't sure of was if Charlie wanted to even try. After the attempt on his life, it was clear he'd secluded himself for a reason. Gregory wasn't sure if he could commit enough to see it through if he'd only hurt Charlie more. He didn't want to ruin their friendship, either. Maybe if he tried going slowly, which made sense, considering he had no clue how to...court? Date? Shit... Another guy. A fist pounded his thigh in irritation.
One thing he was nearly positive of was that Charlie was attracted to him also. He knew he hadn't imagined what had almost happened between them before he'd come to California. The trip to Houston. The stumble at his door. The ensuing embrace that had both of them feeling more than he knew he had anticipated, that had both of them physically tied into knots. And oh, God, the almost kiss. What would have happened if Charlie hadn't stopped? If Gregory had allowed it? Had even moved just that much more himself? His fingers curled into a tight fist, to release again slowly. He wasn't some green teenager. He knew what a hard-on was, especially if it wasn't his own. Now Gregory could face what that had been between them.
Cataclysmic attraction.
And it didn't terrify him. It made him edgy, uncertain, but the sheer terror of the moment was gone.
Could he? He'd never once thought like this over any other man. He should be dismissing it, should be able to shove it well away and never think about it again. Even he was smart enough to realize he'd already been trying to do exactly that. And it wasn't working.
Was it just Charlie? Gregory swore under his breath. It had to be. There was no one like him. Gregory had never once felt like this either, with his heart racing, his hands clammy just thinking about him. Maybe he needed his head examined. Wouldn't be the first time he'd questioned himself over something that should be obvious, but wasn't.
Or maybe he needed to just do like Josh suggested and be open. It wasn't rocket science, and for all he knew, it could be a colossal failure. He could be misreading all the cues. Chemistry could happen anywhere, it didn't mean it was meant for them.
It wasn't like he'd ever chased a guy either and as far as he knew, he'd never been chased himself. Yet he knew, deep inside, in the secret shadows, that he wanted to do this, that he was very attracted to Charlie. Wanted to touch him, and if he got that far, a lot more, though he had no idea how. Those sweaters hid a hell of a lot of hard muscle that the Tshirts showcased.
He wasn't sure what would come next, but he could find out. And why would Charlie try to kiss him if he hadn't wanted to? Or the boner? He closed his eyes, determined not to get too ahead of himself. Was he willing to see what could be there? Shit. Am I ready? His heart galloped and he sucked air to calm himself.
He hadn't thought about it until Josh mentioned it, but the thought of Charlie finding someone to be close to, closer than he was with Gregory, made him tense, his stomach churning with the mere idea, made him want Charlie right there at his side. That told him more than anything else running through his head tonight.
Cherish the happiness.
Maybe it was time he did.
Gregory took his time once he was home to reach out to Charlie. He guessed it wasn't all that normal to call a person to just say hi the second the plane landed anyway. Since it was after midnight Sunday by the time he drove up to his own place, he knew he'd have to wait.
Monday he had to at least pretend he had a week's worth of work to catch up on, so it was in fact Tuesday before he called.
He felt a rush at the prospect of talking to Charlie again.
"Come over tonight. There's a badass car movie marathon. I'll order pizza."
Gregory held his breath, hoping he sounded blasé enough not to come across as desperate.
"Okay. When does the first one start?"
"Seven."
"I can do that."
"Great. Just come on in."
He said goodbye, then collapsed onto his couch. Samson walked up and settled his head on Gregory's knee. Gregory was now more nervous than he could ever remember being for asking a woman to come over. He scratched absently at the hard lunkhead eyeing him like a new species. "I know. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing." In all seriousness, he didn't. He figured the first step would be to just spend more time with the man, see if those crazy pulses of attraction continued. He wasn't inexperienced, just when it came to it happening between himself and another man. If they died off, then he still had a good friend.
It was the 'if they didn't stop' question that was twisting him like a rope in the wind. He genuinely liked Charlie, and knew if he gave himself an ounce of credit, he cared for him as well. The shocking thing that hadn't hit home until he got home was that he'd missed him. The entire week. Saturday, when he'd stood under the stars and lights telling his friends about him, he honestly wished he'd been there and not just to meet everyone, though he hadn't recognized that was what he'd wanted at the time.
He may not be able to make the full jump. He honestly didn't know, but if what he felt for Charlie could be something, then... He drew a breath. Then he had to try. He could only fail if he didn't try at all.
Josh had said nearly the exact same thing. He wanted Charlie to be happy, but not with anyone else, and that wasn't fair to him. Gregory couldn't impose his restrictions on Charlie without being willing to make a few commitments himself. If he tried and failed, then hopefully they could remain friends. What became of him after...well, Gregory would definitely have to sit down and have a solid talk with himself over exactly that if he was wrong, figure out just what the hell he planned on doing with himself, but right now the only person he wanted to try to get to know better, in whatever form that may take, was Charlie.
At fifteen 'til seven, he intentionally jumped in the shower, knowing he wouldn't be able to answer the door. He'd taken great pains to choose his clothing. A test. Casual, but something that cried sex, if the person knew what to look for. And after watching Laurence flaunt his body to tease Josh for years, he thought he could manage something on his own terms. For once he prayed all those years spent with the boys back home and listening to their craziness helped him. Lord knew they'd embarrassed him enough. Being the only straight guy in the herd had given them plenty of fodder. Now it was his turn to use what he'd learned through osmosis.
Barely toweling his hair, he ran his fingers through it, then called it good. Deodorant. Check. A dab of his cologne. Check. Teeth. Check. He hurried to the bedroom, able to hear Charlie laughing at his obviously so-vicious guard dog. He'd kill an intruder with kisses and slobber.
Without warning, a shiver slid down his damp spine as the rough, raw sound filled his house like a forgotten song. He'd heard him laugh like that, but rarely, relaxed and deep. Shaking himself out of the spell, he pulled up his nearly bleached-through jeans, running his hands down the thighs where the soft fabric molded to him. The hole on the knee was perfect, unintentional from God-only-knew-where, but just what he wanted. The waist hung low on his hips. Fuck me jeans. He knew more than one woman had appreciated his physique in them.
The shirt was a lightweight black sweater, something he could wear indoors and not swelter in. Stretching, he noticed the rise of the bottom, slipping glimpses of that low-slung jeans waist as he moved. "Perfect." He hoped. Time to see how one man reacted.
And pray he wasn't about to make a fool out of himself.
Charlie knocked on the door. Samson's bark was all he heard through the barrier. He cracked the door open. "Greg?" Samson nosed at the gap. He wasn't upset, growling or trying to tear the door down to get to him, so he guessed he was welcome. He opened it and walked in. "Hey, fella. Where's the human?" A tail wag was the whole of his answer. "Gotcha." He shut the door.
Samson nosed his hand and he obliged by petting him. "Did you have a good trip? Meet any hot ladies in California?"
Samson pressed his head into Charlie's open palm and he laughed.
"Really? That bad, huh? Poor baby."
He heard the swish of a door, he guessed from the bedroom, and glanced up as Greg walked into the room.
His heart slammed into his ribs with the force of a cannonball. Damn, the man was sex on legs. A week away from him had lessened nothing.
"Uh." He stood from petting Samson, leaning on his cane, unable to look away as Greg neared. "Did you have a date?"
"No." Greg walked up to him to pet Samson, though Charlie was positive he was missing something, or maybe seeing too much. Too much in his gaze. Too much in the way he walked up. Charlie couldn't get enough.
Where did he find those jeans? Did he always walk like that? Charlie gripped his cane in reflex, feeling the need to shake himself. Or fall right into Greg's arms.
"I was waiting for you to call for the pizza. Do you have anything you won't eat?"
Charlie worked his tongue, looking for moisture to speak. Curving lips. The scent of just-washed skin and... He inhaled. Cologne. Charlie almost moaned. His lashes fluttered and he drew a much-needed breath to clear his thoughts. He felt like he was living in a fog, a delicious, handsome fog. "Um. Not eat?"
"Onions, spicy? Anchovies?" Greg's voice held a wicked, teasing flair, snapping his attention to the question.
Charlie shuddered "God, no fish. Fish and pizza were not meant to meet."
Greg laughed and Charlie's legs felt weak. What is he doing? "Uh, Greg?"
He twisted and looked over his shoulder, halfway across the room, assumedly to reach the phone, but all Charlie saw was the trim waist, the hot ass and, oh my God, those legs.
"You don't want pizza?" he asked with hesitation.
Fuck, I want you. "No, pizza is fine. Nothing." Charlie followed him, unable not to as Greg walked to the kitchen counter and opened a black book resting by the phone. When he hung up, he faced Charlie.
Charlie bounced on the ball of his foot, too hyped not to lean in and steal the kiss he'd wanted so badly before. "This was a bad idea," Charlie murmured. He felt flushed and completely starved for the man in front of him. This wanting problem had multiplied. And geez, but had Greg ever looked hotter? The man was smokin' hot sexy. Charlie prayed Greg didn't look too closely, because he couldn't hide the ridge of his erection in his sweats.
Greg frowned. "Why? Nothing wrong with just hanging out, right?" He lightly brushed Charlie's arm, tingles sparking in his wake. "Come on. The first movie has started. It's a Fast and Furious double feature."
Oh shit. Is he flirting with me? Charlie didn't know if he was coming or going, positive he was reading this wrong, that his desire for the man was confusing the intentions of his actions. Why would he flirt? Come on, Charlie, get your head on straight. Straight. He almost barked a laugh. Tonight was going to be torture.
Greg waved at him to follow to the couch and TV in the living room. Samson trotted along beside them. Charlie managed to obey, praying he could get his cock not to be so damned happy about the male perfection now sitting on the couch.
"How was turkey at your mom's?" Greg asked as he found the channel and movie.
Charlie sat gingerly, stretching out his leg. "Quiet." Except for the fantasies, except for dreaming about you. Except for not being able to control how much I want you. The deepest secrets that at the darkest point of the night, he hadn't been able to fight, when he hadn't been able to control the wanting, and he'd given in.
"Good. Mine too, well, until Saturday. I found out right after I got there a couple of the old gang are getting married and I've been invited. They asked if I was bringing anyone. Want to crash a wedding with me?" Greg's smile was cajoling. "I know it's not much of a warning, but the wedding is in late January."
Charlie shook his head. Days alone with Greg? There was never a worse idea. "I don't have the excess money for a trip to California. I'd love to go, though. I've never been."
"Really?"
Charlie shook his head. "Who are the couple?"
"Laurence Toliver and Josh Daily."
"A gay couple?" Charlie stared at Greg, waiting for him to tell Charlie it was a joke.
"Yeah. Craziest couple of guys, but they're family to me. Not related, just close." Greg shrugged, propped against the corner of the couch to face Charlie. "I'd love to have you go as my guest, check out the coast for a few days."
Man, that was tempting. Warning bells were screeching like five different kinds of alarms ringing over each other. It was every fantasy, culminating in nothing but agony.
When it took moments for Charlie to answer, Greg tilted his head. "Charlie. Is something wrong?" He moved closer. "Is it your leg? Has it been bothering you? You're tense."
He shook his head.
"Come on, buddy. It's me." A hand inched toward him, hovered, then fell by his thigh on the couch.
Touch me! He clenched the couch edges in self-defense. The places he could put that hand.
Tension clawed into Charlie. He was sure he vibrated with it. He couldn't make himself relax. Not when the man who'd been haunting his fantasies had come to life and sat next to him. Greg at any other time was a great friend. Right at that moment, Charlie wanted to wrap his tongue around Greg's and not stop.
Those jeans were going to be fueling all kinds of lewd fantasies, and whenever Greg moved a certain way, the gape of the sweater he wore either dropped to bare the top of a shoulder or teased with glimpses of a flat stomach. Charlie would happily drop to his knees and nuzzle what lay behind zipper number one.
The doorbell rang, slicing the silence and tension between them like a razor blade. Greg stood, tugging his wallet from his pocket to pay for the pizza. He carried the pie box to the kitchen counter, his taut back to Charlie.
His head sagged and a shudder rocked his frame. "Charlie, I'm sorry. I owe you an apology. And an explanation."
Charlie studied Greg. He bent over the counter on his elbows, rubbing his face, then stood and slowly spun on a heel, facing Charlie from across the room. Arms crossed over a lean chest, stretching touchable material, raising the sweater to expose the strip of skin between the sweater and his jeans. There was room beneath the exposed belly button. Charlie wanted to lick the flesh winking at him.
"I needed to make sure..." Charlie raised his gaze from that firm playground when Greg trailed off. "I'm not used to this, and I'm not sure how to do it. I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable tonight. It's not what I wanted." He sighed, rocking a bare foot back and forth as he leaned against the wood-covered counter between the living room and the kitchen. "I don't want to lose your friendship, so I'm sorry. I won't be upset if you leave tonight. I'll go change."
Charlie stood, a flicker of understanding beginning to worm into his lust-addled mind. "You---you dressed like that for me?" Greg had dressed like that intentionally? He doubted he could've sounded more shocked.
A flicker of uncertainty chased by consternation shadowed Greg's face. "Yeah. I guess I made a bigger fool of myself than I had even thought possible."
"Why, Greg?"
He gave a nonchalant, dismissive glance, avoiding making direct eye contact. "Because I thought you were attracted to me. Like I said, it was a mistake."
Charlie moved as though pulled by a gravitational force toward him, barely conscious of the weight on his leg. "Greg, what are you trying to prove? If you want the truth, yes, I'm very attracted to you, but it doesn't matter. You're straight, and you're right. I don't want to lose our friendship either. I just don't understand what this is about." He waved a hand up and down, encompassing the whole package.
Greg's chest barely moved, each breath a steady paced action. "Because, believe it or not, I was miserable most of the time I was in California. I was either thinking about you, worried about you, or just wanting to talk to you. Because..." Greg drew a very slow, very deep breath, letting his arms fall to his sides to stand directly in front of Charlie. Something potent began to burn in his eyes. Something Charlie knew he should be fleeing from, but was unable to make his body obey. "Because sometimes happiness doesn't come the way we're taught to expect."
Charlie shook his head. "Greg. What are you talking about? Happiness? What are---"
That was as much as he was allowed to say because Greg lifted his palms and cupped Charlie's face. It wasn't a sudden move, though the surprise of it stole Charlie's ability to evade or defy him. Stole his ability to speak and think. He felt himself fall heart-first into the most amazing brown eyes. Charlie's heart thudded like a freight train into his chest in answer to the yearning heat staring at him.
Greg's lips hovered over his, warm breath that melted him to his bones. As a first kiss, it was awkward. Neither sure where to give, neither being the first to succumb.
Then, as if Greg had been his lover for a decade, he ran his fingers into Charlie's hair and held him captive, tipping him to seal their mouths together, a sweet fusion. There was no strength, no boiling heat, no explosive fireworks.
It went worlds beyond any of that.
Charlie's eyes sank shut in sheer bliss. He wrapped his arms around Greg, leaning into his strength, and Greg caught him. Every fantasy, every dream fell short of the real thing. Charlie lived in that kiss, in the moment. The press of fingertips in his hair kept him still for Greg's exploration. Not demanding, not even questing, but learning with the gentlest of steps. It was the most chaste kiss of his life, yet the most stunning for that very fact. It stole Charlie's strength until he felt weak from his eyeballs down.
Clawed fingers gripped onto chunks of black sweater when Greg released his lips.
Greg swallowed several times, staring into his eyes. "Would I sound completely naïve to say wow?"
Charlie smiled. "Not in the least." He was breathing shallowly, panting as much as Greg was.
"You're not mad?"
Charlie massaged him through the fabric of his sweater. "Confused, worried about your state of mind, but no, not mad."
Greg chuckled, a crimson hue visible on his skin. "I can't answer safely to any of that. Don't go."
"I wasn't going, to begin with. I just didn't understand, but now I do." He pressed more evenly into Greg's body, aware of every nuance as light honey lashes lowered over brown eyes growing hazy. Physically, they were a perfect match, their heights comfortable and Greg a little broader and stronger. Perfect. "Tell me why," Charlie whispered, adjusting his weight. Greg had messed him up so bad, he'd forgotten his cane by the couch.
"Something that was pointed out to me while I was gone. I suspected, but wasn't sure about what was happening with me. Less sure of myself than you, I'll put it that way. I've never feared it, just never expected to feel this way because of a guy. It was unsettling," he finished quietly.
Charlie stroked Greg's spine with a light thumb. "Feeling? As in aroused? Attracted? Curious?"
Greg molded him closer, his voice lighter as the tension that had filled them both dissipated. "All of that."
Charlie didn't ask him to divulge more. He didn't have it in him to give in return. Not emotionally, and he knew physically he was damaged with no way to hide it. But he did understand what Greg was telling him. He wasn't going to shy away from the attraction just because Charlie didn't have boobs. It was almost a relief. At least for the moment. The tension of the evening had been excruciating.
For tonight, a kiss he could give, and maybe a few more. Then he would have to see what tomorrow would bring.
Gregory was still a little stunned at himself. In all honesty, he hadn't been able to stop himself. Who knew a kiss could feel like that? As though he stood in the warmest beam of sunshine on a spring day while being kicked in the gut by a Kentucky mule. Electric and mind-shattering.
He should have known anything to do with Charlie wouldn't be 'normal' as he knew it.
Wide, green eyes stared into his, patient and warm. And it blew his mind that he wanted to kiss him again. He kneaded his scalp under gentle fingertips, one hand drifting to caress a firm jaw. Nothing soft here. Charlie's face wasn't harsh, but it was strong. A long nose, full lips... He brushed his thumb over Charlie's lower lip, testing. A puff of warm breath flowed over his skin as he did.
"Can I kiss you again?" he asked, feeling sixteen all over again. Blood raced through his body, and if he were any more turned on, he'd come in his jeans. He couldn't believe how much he was feeling. He wanted to remember everything to savor it all later.
In answer, Charlie tipped and Gregory closed the distance naturally, as though they'd kissed a thousand times. The awkwardness was minimal, the strangeness making him tremble, but it was the excitement that made him push for a little more.
He sipped at Charlie's upper lip and felt the man shake against him. Charlie was letting him find his way, discover each moment for himself. With his eyes closed, he could only feel. Then he danced the tip of his tongue over Charlie's lips, learning their shape, their heat, amazed at the softness when he'd never once considered how a man's kiss would feel, or taste. Charlie's moan almost knocked his legs out from underneath him.
Gregory sucked a hard gasp, yanking free of the kiss.
With a tight brow, Charlie followed his retreat. "You okay?"
Gregory gulped. "Yeah. Just..." He let his hands fall. Rather than letting him go, they landed at Charlie's waist. "I..." He bit his lip and groaned, fighting to get his body to obey. He wasn't sure how to take it to the next level, but if he did, he knew he'd have taken things a whole lot farther than just a kiss. When he found Charlie watching him, he was smiling softly, amusement clear in his gaze.
"More wow?"
Gregory nodded. Was it possible to get a buzz from a kiss? He felt shaky and dizzy, as though the floor were rolling beneath his bare feet. Charlie's hand flitted over Gregory's neck to pluck through his hair, teasing. Mini shocks struck from every touch, every brush of skin against him.
"Get the pizza before it forms icicles. If you're a good boy, I'll let you hold my hand through the movie."
Gregory choked. "Jerk."
Charlie leaned close, his voice a breathy whisper in Gregory's ear. "Believe me, that's the safest thing for right now." The nudge of a hard cock against Gregory almost had him swallowing his own tongue. Uncertainty, desire, hunger, and so much more were beating at him that holding hands was actually looking to be about all he'd be able to manage without coming unglued.
When Charlie straightened, the hungry heat in those green eyes drove a shiver like a stake through his body. Carefully extricating himself, Charlie slid away to return with a stilted gait to the couch.
Charlie let out a slow breath, then lifted his leg again, holding the pose for thirty seconds to slowly let his foot find the mat. He had an appointment the following day to visit a PT center in Corpus. They were going to measure his leg mass, then test his muscle strength and elasticity to recommend the right brace for him.
Now that he'd set his mind to finally doing it, he wanted it. Now. He worked his legs every day, and exercised. If he was lucky, he'd have it before Christmas. Then he'd only need the cane as a backup and in relief if the brace became uncomfortable. He wasn't sure why he'd delayed getting it. Maybe Dr. Morne was right and he needed to stop fighting the healing, not shy away from it when it presented itself.
Or in Charlie's case, when Greg shouldered his way into Charlie's life. He knew he'd never be able to run with him, but just to walk normally again or even close to it, without the cane. He stretched his leg out, pulsing the muscles with slow clenches to cool them down after the workout.
"How is it, every time I find you, you're flat on your back?"
Greg's laughing tones popped Charlie's eyes open, locking on him leaning against the door jamb of the spare room. Brown eyes watched him through a fan of lashes.
The simple look sent Charlie's pulse pounding, a reaction he was still trying to get used to. "I didn't hear you come in this time." Charlie had intentionally left the door open in case Greg arrived while he was in the shower. He sure wasn't going to answer the door naked.
"You were thinking hard about something. I didn't even pull out my mad ninja skills."
"I'm almost done, then shower. You don't mind waiting?"
In answer, Greg bent and offered a hand. "Come here."
Charlie grasped it, unsure. Greg was taking things slow, which worked for them both. He was figuring out how much was comfortable for him, and Charlie had time to fortify any chinks created between attacks.
One thing Greg did know was how to kiss. And he liked to do that at every opportunity.
"No, I don't mind," Gregory replied, just before laying one of those kisses on Charlie. A strong arm scooped around his shoulders, bringing him tight into Greg's frame. He had to wrap his arms around him in reflex, then Greg took him by surprise, spinning them both like two dancers and pinning Charlie against the wall. Charlie's breath left him in a sharp whoosh.
Instantly, Greg lightened his hold. "Shit. I'm sorry. I forgot about your back." Apology darkened his eyes.
Charlie grasped Greg's shoulders, shuddering with excitement. Damn, the strength, the heat of the touch. It hit him with a wild impact, searing him and his nerves until more than his nerves were standing at attention. Charlie was burning up. He shook his head, barely able to speak as he shoved his heart into place. God, he'd missed strong arms around him. He'd gone from workout to overworked in point-zero-two seconds. "No. I'm fine. Wasn't expecting it."
"You're sure?"
Charlie shivered. Greg was running his hands all over him, caressing him, inspecting him, though he didn't really care why. "I'm sure. I'm not breakable," he pointed out.
Remorseful, Greg said, "I know, but I don't want to do something that will hurt you, either."
Charlie stiffened, his jaw firming. Greg's hands stopped moving, though he didn't physically stop touching him. "I'm not a fucking porcelain doll."
"Did I say anything like that? Damn it, Charlie." He stepped clear and dug a hand through honey-blond strands. "I don't have any idea of just what you're dealing with. I'm going insane with wanting to touch you, but I don't want to hurt you because I'm fucking clueless. I can't exactly see through your sweats to know."
"You want to touch me?" Charlie wasn't sure if he was floored or terrified.
"If you were a woman, I'd know how to cope, but Christ, man." Greg scrubbed his face under his palms; next was pacing. Charlie knew the signs.
"It's not pretty," Charlie cautioned.
Greg closed the gap between them, cupping his face lightly, searing him with the intensity of his stare. "I don't care about that. Want to know why?" He didn't let Charlie answer before he continued. "Because it's you, man. Because it's the you I know." He let out a sigh, despondent. He drew away. "Look, if it's really not what you want, then we'll go back to friends. You went through hell once already. Hurting you would kill me," he finished.
The ache-filled honesty in Greg's voice made his decision for him. Flattening a hand to the chest in front of him, Charlie pushed until Greg took a couple steps, then, making it clear what he was going to do, he fisted the hem of his workout T-shirt.
"Charlie?"
"You might as well know what you're getting into. I'm not whole, Greg. I'm always going to have weaknesses, and I'll always have the scars. They did what they could to keep me out of a wheelchair. I guess I should be grateful for that much."
Brown eyes watched him, pained and worried. "Are you sure?"
"You're going to see them anyway, if we ever have sex," he said emotionlessly. Chills filled his chest. He hadn't let himself think about that between them. Not yet. He released a steadying breath. "Ready?"
Greg nodded. Steeling himself for the worst, Charlie lifted the material, tugging it up and over his head until he held it fisted in a nearly bloodless grip. "The front has nothing on the back." Then he turned and faced the wall.
"Holy fuck!" It wasn't a shout, but it was sharp enough to make Charlie wince, and he wanted to kick his own ass for it. Charlie sagged until his forehead rested on crossed arms, supporting himself against the wall.
"It's worse on the leg." His words were muffled. "You can touch them. They don't hurt. There are a couple places that are sensitive, like to hot water, because the skin is so fucked up and the nerves are shot to hell and back."
Delicately, fearing he would hurt him regardless, Gregory drifted across the top of his left shoulder, aiming for the right. The gnarl of skin, pits, and gouges from his shoulder to his waist was alarming. Some scars were obviously from sutures, others were deep burns. Third-degree burns that had destroyed the upper epidermis, delving deep into skin and muscle. Concave irregularities showed where he'd lost muscle tissue. Gregory swallowed hard, touching, lingering, needing to take it all away but helpless to do anything. "How did you survive the pain?" he choked out, spreading a palm over the largest area, a wider than handprint-sized marbled patch of skin over his kidney.
Gregory blinked, completely failing to stop the tears at the enormity of just what he'd suffered through.
"Morphine. You feel absolutely nothing on that stuff. After the burns came the surgeries. After those came the physical therapy. It took months to rebuild my leg to just hold weight. It's why I have to work it every day. Each step is made with barely enough muscle support to keep me from falling on my ass. Any less and I would be in a wheelchair."
Gregory cinched his arms around Charlie's waist, pressing a damp cheek to a shoulder and not caring that he would feel the tears. "I did hurt you."
A forgiving hand cupped his where they rested over Charlie's abdomen, giving him a squeeze. He murmured kindly, "No, dork. You were turning me on."
Gregory coughed in disbelief. "You can't be serious?"
"Greg. No one has seen me like this except for my family where I finished my recovery. I haven't been touched, held or kissed since before this happened. If I slammed you up to a wall and lip-locked you to do a tonsil check after so long, what do you think you'd feel?"
He laughed, but it was watery. "You swear?"
A light tug on his clasped hands urged them to separate. With gentle guidance, Charlie adjusted his angle, and suddenly Gregory wasn't clasping his own hand. The firm flesh pulsing against his palm was definitely not his own. It stretched and pushed and throbbed as Gregory's hand stayed frozen in place. Sensory shock kept him there.
"That's been there for a couple minutes now," Charlie explained, subdued, his voice growing hoarse. "Just being touched by you turns me on."
Gregory shuddered. A flash of heat sank into his blood. He couldn't restrain his own body's answer. It was an incredible aphrodisiac knowing he was doing that for him, that Gregory was making him tremble and pant with desire. Charlie sighed, arching until his ass rubbed where Gregory's cock pressed into his fly.
"God," Charlie moaned. "That feels so good."
Gregory moved his flat palm up and down Charlie's shaft in front. "And this?" He shocked himself with the way his voice purred, the deepening arousal that was heightening his own desires and the want to really touch the firm cock under his palm. He drew a slow breath through his nose, admitting the need. He wanted Charlie.
Gregory had been cautious, but with Charlie at his fingertips, caution didn't seem to have a place in the room.
"Not too much?" Gregory asked. This was the first time he'd held Charlie, stroked him in any way. It hadn't even been a full week since those first kisses, and now...he couldn't have stopped, not with Charlie moaning and panting, pressing into him for more. The dreams he'd been having at night were coming to life under his hand. He flexed his fingers, testing, absorbing sensation and heat. Charlie whimpered.
Gregory spread his feet, caging Charlie beneath him to the wall intentionally now. He'd been taking things slow, unsure on so many levels, but this felt good, felt right. He pressed his chest into bare skin, the thickening ridge of his arousal wedged neatly into the valley of Charlie's ass. Even that was making his blood pulse with an erratic rhythm.
Gregory moved his head to the side and Charlie naturally arched to settle his alongside, nuzzling temple to temple. "More," Charlie breathed.
Gregory's heart leaped at the husky plea. He curled his fingers and fisted Charlie's dick through the fleece of his sweats.
"Aw, shit." Charlie shuddered.
"Tell me how," Gregory breathed into his ear.
"Touch me." The scrape of Charlie's fingernails on the wall was background to their dual panting. "Jerk me off."
"And that feels good?"
"Greg," Charlie groaned, impatience and hungry need in his voice.
"Okay, okay." He smiled, laughing roughly. He nibbled at the bare juncture of Charlie's shoulder. "Let me do this."
"Mm, yes." Charlie sighed in sheer surrender.
Gregory eased his hand upward, learning by feel. Not being able to physically see what he was doing meant he had to rely on his other senses, and in some ways, he was sure that helped him get over the initial oddness of knowing what he was touching. His own cock he was used to, but another's was a new experience. Being Charlie's sent shocks throughout his frame. Bare skin above the elastic of his waist trembled when he dragged his nails over the expanse. Charlie hissed, but didn't make him rush, or worse, stop. Gregory throbbed behind his zipper, the intensity growing painful, swept up into the need of the moment.
Gliding his other hand to Charlie's waist, he hooked material with his thumbs and quickly inched the waist of Charlie's sweats down before he could stumble. Not far, just over his hips enough to free the thick weight of his shaft. The combined heated scent of Charlie's arousal and skin made him lightheaded. Their sharp breaths echoed in the room, punctuating their reactions.
With his eyes closed, he dug questing fingers through Charlie's bush. An inch at a time, he grew braver, stroking and petting, learning the texture of another man's flesh. Fine hairs tugged and captured inquisitive fingertips as he teased through curls. Charlie's shivers and gasps told him he was doing something right. He lifted his other hand to brace himself on the wall with a flat palm. Almost on autopilot now, he licked and nibbled at will on the shoulder and neck in front of him, discovering the heady taste of Charlie's skin on his tongue.
Charlie's breathy moans were worse than adding gasoline to a bonfire. He couldn't get enough. He'd never realized how much the sound of a person's pleasure affected him. Charlie's whimpers and tight gasps were exquisite torture, and he received more by pleasuring more. A win-win situation.
Traveling by feel, he tap-danced his fingertips down the now-fully erect length of Charlie's cock. Smooth flesh, hard to hold yet soft with a silken heat. Gregory's heart raced in his chest.
Eating up every moan and whimper the man made, Gregory caressed him, running his palm over the thick end. Gregory knew he'd enjoyed it when women gave him head. With the way Charlie was falling apart over a hand job, Gregory couldn't wait to try and see how much it would take to make him shatter.
He made a ring of his fingers and popped them over the broad tip, like a mouth taking him. Charlie's shivers revealed his reaction plainly. Gregory wondered what he would taste like on his tongue. The idea of actually going down on him made him burn inside. What would he taste like? Could he do it? Swirling his tongue over Charlie's pulse point, he imagined having the hard tip of Charlie's cock under his lips instead, and quivered with untested excitement. He moaned, surprised at how turned on he was, how desperate he felt. He'd never felt like this with a woman, always in control and able to please them for as long as they needed. Charlie was driving him out of his mind even at Gregory's mercy, captured under his weight. Just spending minutes like this, on the edge, drove him insane with wanting, every inch of his body on fire where they touched and pressed into one another.
He wouldn't push Charlie, not this time, but soon, he wanted to find Charlie's limits and exceed them with explosive results.
Then he dragged his thumbnail over the slit at the tip, a light scraping sensation. Charlie arched like a bridge, crying out. His ass thrust hard into Gregory's groin in answer, swaying and grinding, bringing surges of adrenaline-filled lust with him. Gregory bit bare shoulder to stifle his own groan. He did the next thing naturally, wrapping Charlie's dick with firm fingers and starting a slow pumping action.
"Fuck! Greg." He whimpered Gregory's name, pleading, but he kept Charlie off-balance, not finding a rhythm. Slow and steady, then hard and rough. Charlie reached back and clawed at Gregory's leg, grinding into him with his hard ass. Not too small, but definitely tight.
Gregory hissed, thrown for another loop. "Shit, that feels good."
Charlie was moaning loudly, absorbed, lost.
Caught up in the moment, Gregory corralled him, licking, then biting down and sucking at flushed skin, pumping throbbing flesh in tandem. He sucked hard, knowing he was going to mark him with a hickey. Then Charlie was thrusting in return, fucking Gregory's hand, gasping and swearing. Charlie cried out, flexing at the same time, shaking as he hung onto Gregory with a looped hand thrown over the top of his head. Skin swelled and it hit. Charlie's orgasm. Gregory almost held his breath in awe. He knew how it felt for him. Watching Charlie's pleasure was beautiful. Spurts of white shot from the tip, dripping down his hand, down the underside of his pulsating shaft. Slowly, the turgid length in his palm spent its fury, the last bursts dribbling free.
Both were breathing hard when he gently let Charlie go.
Gregory kissed the new mark on his shoulder, then rested his forehead on heated skin. A shiver telegraphed down Charlie's entire body.
"Mm," Charlie panted. Still clinging to Gregory, he gradually unwound himself and managed to slink around to face him. The sheer glow of pleasure in his green eyes blew Gregory away. He leaned against the wall, looking for all the world like a man who'd just been well-fucked.
Gregory groaned. "Sexy." He leaned, keeping his weight off of him, kissing him.
"Brace your hands."
Gregory blinked, leaving those sweet lips.
"Do it, then kiss me."
Gregory wasn't about to argue. With his palms on either side of Charlie's head, he claimed the mouth in front of him. Driving his tongue alongside, they dueled. His heart lurched when Charlie wrapped his lips around Gregory's tongue and suckled, drawing him deep with drugging pulls to lick him back into a kiss and repeat it. Gregory felt the tug of his button and zipper, but what Charlie intended didn't reach his brain until his jeans were dropped like dead weight from his hips.
Charlie broke away from the kiss to look down. "That's gorgeous." Then Charlie's hands were touching him and his mouth was being conquered once more. Charlie's kiss was hotter than anything he could think of. The stroke of his tongue, the heat of his need, all of it mangled Gregory's capacity to think.
Gregory was melting. But Charlie was ahead of the game. With both hands wrapped around his dick, he toyed with Gregory, repaying the teasing he'd inflicted. He moaned in answer. There was nothing in the world but him and Charlie, and the exquisite shocks of his dick being handled and stroked.
When Charlie broke away from his kiss, leaving him confused, his eyes cracked open. Charlie slid down the wall, one hand on Gregory's hip to bring him closer, the other on his hard-as-nails cock.
"Perfect," Charlie murmured, then Gregory's world vanished in a burst of white ecstasy.
Charlie wrapped his lips around Gregory's tip and sucked.
Gregory pounded the wall with a fist, bowed forward, careful not to throw Charlie off-balance, but in no way able to stay upright. Talented was the first of his compliments as Charlie swirled, sucked and nibbled. Gregory's leg muscles quivered. He spread them as far as his jeans would allow for balance, and Charlie took shameless advantage of it. Teasing flicks of Charlie's tongue lashed at him, drawing out every sensation. Then he engulfed his length, hollowing his cheeks for pressure. Gregory wanted to slip through the floorboards. Charlie was turning his entire body to liquid, to simply drain away on a sea of bliss. He couldn't think of one woman who'd blown him with this much abandon. As for a man... Charlie was a first. Leave it to a man to know exactly what another man would want, and how to make it feel like Gregory was coming undone.
Grinding his teeth, he fought not to come, drowning in the pleasure of Charlie's mouth. The swipe of Charlie's wicked tongue along the underside had him clawing the wall, gasping and moaning.
The tight pull of his balls warned him. Orgasm imminent. He tried to warn him. "Charlie...oh, fuck." He sagged to the wall, locking his knees in self-preservation. Crumpling to the ground like a house of cards wouldn't do.
Charlie fisted his length, twisting at the base as he rode Gregory's cock up and down with his mouth. Then the bastard went for broke. Charlie cupped his aching balls and rolled them, taking as much of his dick into his mouth as he could.
"Charlie!" His shout filled the house. Gregory's ass clenched as hard as steel as he shot, grinding between those incredible hot lips. His heart pounded erratically into his ribs as he thrust each spurt and Charlie ate it up, licking and swallowing every drop.
When he was sucked dry and panting for breath, he collapsed to his knees right in front of Charlie on the workout mats. Together, they fell over when Charlie tackled him, kissing him. Gregory tasted his own flavor for the first time in his life. And when Charlie let him go to breathe, he captured him and went back for seconds.
"I think we're late for dinner," Charlie teased lightly, stroking a hand across Greg's chest. That was initially why Greg had come to his place, to pick him up to grab a bite. This wasn't quite how he'd expected the day to go, and he doubted Greg had either.
"We'll eat tomorrow, or the next day. Can't move," he replied on a faint parched gasp, as though he were lost somewhere in the clouds. Charlie's hand rested over the still-thundering race of Greg's heartbeat.
"You know you're half naked?" Charlie flicked fingertips over the side of Greg's hip, noticing his spasm. "You're ticklish?"
"Kinda," Greg muttered with a cross growl.
Charlie chortled under his breath. "I'll only use it as a last resort to get what I want."
Greg huffed. "Uh-huh, so you say now."
Charlie smiled, Greg's beating heart cushioning where he rested.
"I guess I should go shower now."
Greg tossed an arm over him before he'd even finished the statement.
He arched an eyebrow quizzically at the unrelenting clasp. "Is that a no?"
"That's a 'you can wait'. I'm still in shock. Don't you dare leave me like this."
Charlie heard the humor, but also the underlying truth and insecurity. He raised himself enough to tug his sweatpants up, then laid more over Greg's frame. "Hey, it's okay." Charlie ghosted fingertips through thoroughly bedraggled hair. "You don't really know what two guys do together, do you?"
With his eyes still closed, Greg shook his head, though with a stuttered hesitancy.
"As much as we want, as often as we want," Charlie told him tenderly. A heartbeat later Charlie's voice rose in mock horror. "Are you on the pill?"
Greg snickered.
"Exactly my point." He snuggled close. "There are a few things different." He ignored Greg's pugnacious grunt. "But from what just happened, I'd say you're doing fine."
"How long does it take to get used to it?" Greg asked.
"Well, you can't use me as a meter. I've always been gay. I didn't come out to my family until my senior year, mostly because I was convinced I'd failed them somehow."
"Failed? Impossible." Greg's arms now both held on. The strength in that embrace shot warmth all through Charlie, content in a way he hadn't felt in ages.
"Yeah, well, at eighteen it's a whole different ballgame. Plus, I'm the only son. I know my dad got drunk that night, but luckily he hasn't shunned me for it."
Greg stroked Charlie's sides in support. "I guess I do kind of understand. Josh wasn't gay when he joined our research team, but he was absolutely mad for Laurence, and still is." Greg fell silent, then harrumphed. "Is it possible for a man to be turned gay?"
Charlie bracketed Greg's body with stiff arms, glaring down at him. His expression was thoughtful, not accusatory, so it took some of the anger out of his words. "If you think what Anthony said is true, so help me, I'll deck you and whip you with my cane."
Greg's eyes shot open. "No! Of course not. I'm thinking. You might hit me for this---thinking about past girlfriends."
Charlie shrugged. Past was past. "Okay."
Charlie felt the glide of fingers as Greg slid up and down his side and ribs, massaging in slow circles. Whether it was to ease Charlie or himself, he had no clue. He did know he wasn't going to ask him to stop.
"Well, there was one I was really, or thought I was, in love with. I hadn't asked her, but I was considering marriage."
When he paused, Charlie asked, "What happened?"
"She got a promotion and moved. I knew she was career-minded. So was I, still am, but she wasn't flexible on it in the least. She liked my friends, and my mom."
"Always a plus," Charlie offered. Greg smiled up at him.
"But it wasn't enough." Greg sighed and Charlie dipped to kiss away the traces of heartache in Greg's eyes. "When she was gone, I realized it was for the better. We were almost right, but not perfect for each other. Looking back, they were all like that, well, the ones I cared for. There were, of course, the girls who were just..." He didn't finish it, but he didn't have to. Charlie got the meaning loud and clear by the red heat crawling up Greg's neck.
"Don't beat yourself up over that." He wiggled his body to rock Greg's playfully. "Believe me. The hook-up is a science and an art in the gay community."
"Really?"
"Oh, ye of little knowledge."
"Smartass."
Charlie folded against his chest again, Greg still stroking him and holding him close. "So what are you silently beating yourself up over here? The fact that you're just now realizing you could very well be one of the dark side?"
Greg snickered. "Yeah. Something like that."
"Do you really think it's all that bad?"
Silence.
Charlie tried to lift, to give him space, to see what was happening in the man's mind, but Greg wouldn't budge to let him go.
"Greg?" he whispered, getting worried.
He finally sighed. "No. And that's the scary part. I don't think you made me this way, though I think you may have finally been the right everything to make it click. Josh knows me as well as anyone and he saw it bright as day."
"Really?" He was definitely intrigued. "How?"
"I spent the better part of fifteen minutes bragging about you."
Charlie blinked, surprised to see the return of that red hue on his face and neck. "You told them about me?"
"Yeah." Greg sighed, his eyes drifting closed. "About your green eyes, your courage, your sense of humor." He chuckled. "I think RJ would have fallen over if he'd had the chance when I told them you were gay."
Charlie shivered, all kinds of horror stories and fears rearing up. "You told them everything?" The pounding of his heart almost echoed inside his ears, it was so fierce.
Greg's eyes snapped open once more, staring right into his. "No, Charlie. I would never tell that about you. It's not mine to share."
He went limp as an overcooked noodle and Greg caught him, practically crushing him into his embrace.
"I would never betray your trust like that. I might be new to this, but I'm not that kind of an ass." He stretched and kissed Charlie's temple. "Look, I'm not saying I'm hating holding you, but these mats suck for this."
"Shit!" Charlie jerked up. "Want to go get a bite now?"
"Nope."
"No?" Charlie asked, confused. "Did I say something?"
"Not at all." A palm curved under Charlie's jaw and he felt himself lean into its warmth. Greg continued to gaze up at him from where he lay sprawled on those same mats. He'd never once tried to adjust his clothing, leaving himself looking like a man who'd been absolutely debauched. "Let's go take that shower."
Charlie groaned, catching the burgeoning heat, darkening eyes to melted chocolate. "Us?" He gulped.
"Tease me with this naked chest for almost an hour." He let his hand drift from Charlie's jaw to trail in wicked patterns down Charlie's chest. "Baby, if you're the reason I'm going gay, then I'm going headfirst."
Charlie shivered all over this time, his lashes lowering as sparks were lit to life again. Greg's fingers were like magic, creating trails of flame in their wake.
"God, I've wanted to touch you for so long," Greg told him with a hoarse rumble. Charlie felt the surge in his groin as he reacted to the blatant hunger in those words. Strong hands caressed and floated over his shoulders, down his chest. "I'm such a virgin." Greg laughed to vanquish the awkwardness, and Charlie joined him. "This is amazing."
Charlie sighed, sinking into the pleasure of being touched, then hissed when two thumbs rubbed unexpectedly over his hardening nipples at the same time.
"Is that normal?" Hushed amazement floated around him.
Charlie groaned when Greg strummed the hard points. "Aren't you sensitive?"
"Not really."
Charlie opened his eyes finding utter disappointment in Greg's. "Don't worry. We'll find every spot you have until you melt like butter."
"Promise?"
Charlie shook his head good-naturedly at the unrepentant begging in Greg's expression. "Cheeky." Charlie fell forward again, this time pressing and rubbing his chest to Greg's. "I love a solid chest." Greg's breath left him on a groan. He murmured against Greg's ear. "Bedroom, then shower?"
"Yes." The guttural heat in that answer made it sound like a swear word. Charlie slid away and Greg tugged his jeans up beneath his ass, but didn't fasten them. The sight of Greg's cock, framed within the denim, made his mouth water. Greg stood first, offering a hand to ease Charlie to his feet, then embraced him. He took Charlie by complete surprise by licking up the side of his neck. "Damn." Charlie snaked his arms around Greg's shoulders and held on, his legs feeling unsteady from the sensory overload, tipping his head hungrily as Greg licked and kissed skin. "You're making me crazy," Greg said, the growled words vibrating right against Charlie's vein.
"Want you." Charlie ground into Greg, wanting so much, needing.
Somehow, Charlie managed to direct him to the other bedroom, where his unmade queen bed waited. At least he was fanatical about clean sheets. A mess? No problem. Grungy? Never.
"Right here." Greg stopped. Dazed, Charlie knew the bed was behind him, but at the moment, the rest of the room could have been empty. Greg knelt in front of him, taking down rumpled sweatpants as he lowered. Helping Charlie step out, he flung them over a shoulder, leaving him utterly naked. Charlie quaked as Greg studied his dick. Moisture pearled at the slit. Charlie stood mesmerized as Greg raised a hand, and with his thumb, swept that bead away to bring to his mouth. Charlie and Greg both moaned as he licked it between his lips.
"Greg." He was feeling desperate. For touch. For his mouth. For anything.
Then Greg did the unexpected and wrapped snug fingers around Charlie's hips and opened up. "Fuck, fuck!" Charlie dug fingers into Greg's hair, gripping like he held a lifeline as the gap between those hungry, waiting lips and the end of Charlie's aching cock disappeared. The swirl of a learning tongue had him coming apart at the seams. "Shit, yes, suck it." Raging desire sped through him, surging, and he thrust, unable to restrain the impulse. Expecting Greg to wrench back, prepared for it, he shuddered when he loosened his jaw instead and let Charlie pump into his mouth. "Aw, fuck. You're a natural." Fingertips gripped Charlie's hips and he cried out, gliding in and out of Greg's sucking lips like a piston.
Greg moaned and Charlie's world shrank to the hot, wet suction on his cock and nothing else. "God, please," Charlie whimpered. Pressure made his skin tight, his balls drawing up as Greg slid from base to tip, then back again. Muscles clenched as Greg moved, dipping and licking. Sparks rode his spine when the lightest scrape of teeth bit into him, as though testing. He moaned, and Greg repeated the torture. Forcing his eyes open, he looked down at those lips slurping over him and groaned. Greg was enjoying it, getting into it, first time or not. Greg wasn't holding anything back and Charlie's legs trembled, falling headfirst into the powerful feeling of his cock being surrounded by that mouth.
Greg slowed his attack, gliding with lighter touches, letting Charlie catch his breath. When Greg released him with an audible pop, he almost collapsed.
"You're a God damned natural," he gasped, sinking to the edge of the bed. "Your mouth is incredible."
Greg inched forward on his knees and Charlie clasped him close, tearing his shirt off his body. "Stand up." He tugged and Greg obeyed, allowing Charlie to finish stripping him. Then he looked up at the blond god before him. "Could you... Do you think you're ready?"
"What do you want, baby?" He ran a tender hand over Charlie's scalp, tracing the shell of his ear.
"Fuck me." Charlie licked his lips. "I need you."
The flicker of uncertainty and hesitation forced Charlie to wait. He couldn't make Greg do something he wasn't ready for, no matter how badly he needed it. Tense minutes passed as Greg and Charlie stared unblinking into each other's eyes.
"What do I do?"
Relief swamped Charlie, riding a fresh wave of desire, not to mention a fair amount of gratitude. This wasn't like asking Greg for a massage, or even like a strong lift into a steaming tub. He leaned forward and licked the end of Greg's cock, rolling his flavor over his tongue before swallowing the dew. "I'll help you."
Greg nodded once. Charlie reached for the nightstand and found what he needed. He didn't want to alarm Greg, so he only grabbed one packet and the lube. "Remember what I said about there being differences?" He glanced up at Greg, praying he wasn't pushing too hard or too fast. "This is part of it."
Gently, Greg lifted the lube bottle out of his hand. "Lie down," he whispered.
"You're sure?"
"If I don't get it right the first time, just more reasons to practice, right?"
Charlie licked his lips, staring through wide eyes at the sexy-as-sin heat in Greg's gaze, shaken to know he was the one to almost falter. Greg wasn't doing this just to see if he was gay, to discover which way his pendulum may swing.
That reasoning Charlie could accept and even welcome. The reality scared the shit out of him.
Greg was gay because he wanted Charlie.
The truth at any other time would have had him running as fast as his damaged leg would let him, but trapped beneath him on the bed, his body betraying him for the touch and desire Greg's gaze promised, he couldn't move. He could barely breathe. But fuck, did he want.
He wanted Greg filling him, fucking him, taking him and never stopping. And if he wasn't already scared out of his wits about all of this, that did it.
"I never thought I'd say this about another man in my life, but you're gorgeous." Gregory crawled up onto the bed on his hands and knees, chasing after a scooting Charlie. When Charlie hit the top of the bed, he stopped. Gregory glided up his beckoning body, dropping kisses to his chest. Remembering the expression of bliss on his face from the little stimulation he'd caused with his thumbs, he paused to lave and suck on one of the dusky tan discs of smooth skin and the tight-budded point in its center.
Charlie's hiss was all he needed to know he'd really found a hot spot. "Love the sounds you make," he breathed, coasting to the other side. Swiping his tongue over him, he noticed how smooth his skin was, and how good he smelled. Gregory couldn't get enough of it. Charlie's own personal cologne, heated skin and arousal. He'd never found anything like it on any woman. Not soft or sweet like a woman's skin, but something truly unique that made his heart trip and his mouth water. He drew a breath, savoring it, then formed his lips in a circle on a nipple and sucked until Charlie moaned.
Never had a woman speak dirty during sex, either. Damn, what else had he been missing? He loved listening to Charlie lose it. Knowing how it felt for himself when he was touched, he grazed the inside of Charlie's thigh with a drifting hand and Charlie spread his legs wantonly. In control of his own desires once more, Gregory wanted to take his time pleasuring the man beneath him. My man. He shivered as it sank into him.
Since Tuesday night, the fact that this was a man had ceased to trip him up. He knew who he wanted. Maybe he should've been paying better attention to the three stooges all along, because Josh sure as shit nailed this one. He wondered if it had always been there, but like he'd said, until Charlie, it hadn't clicked.
He honestly didn't care about the reasoning. Gregory couldn't fight this...yearning. The hungry desire. Charlie was like no one else, and no one else had ever demanded so little when he'd wanted to give the very best of himself. Gregory also knew what that meant, that he was falling in love with him. But he didn't bring that up. Charlie wasn't ready, and he knew it. He wasn't sure he was ready for it either. One thing at a time. And right at that moment, he had a hot, naked, panting man practically melting beneath his every caress. Gregory was riveted by every motion, every flicker. He'd never considered if he'd pleased a partner enough, guessing they'd tell him if they wanted more. With Charlie, he was as transparent as glass, and the realization that Gregory liked making him lose it, liked him enthralled in every little touch and kiss, drove him crazy.
"Love the way you taste," Gregory murmured as he suckled wet kisses across his chest. "Dilemma, dilemma. Up to your hungry mouth, or down to this incredible cock?" He wrapped his fingers around Charlie's hardened length, massaging him gently. The feel of him against Gregory's palm was unlike anything he could name. The man was definitely not lacking. Heated and hard as a rock, Gregory stroked him from base to tip, dragging out every sensation to keep him right at the edge. Charlie's eyes rolled into his head while his lips quivered, sighing a moan.
"Or even better, both," he purred, lying along Charlie's length to caress and play with his body while he kissed him.
Charlie's arm circled his frame, gripping, kneading at his shoulder in answer.
"That's it, baby. Let me make you feel good."
Charlie sucked in air, groaning through a tight laugh. "Damn. You went from hand job to master of the bed in nothing flat."
Gregory slipped his hand down and grasped Charlie's balls, tugging them until he shuddered. "Just doing what we both want, right?"
"Oh, fuck! Yeah," Charlie replied on a breathy moan.
"And I love the way you say it."
He separated Charlie's nuts with a light pinch on his sac and Charlie almost shot off the bed. "Oh, shit!"
"I bet you'd scream if I sucked on you."
"I bet you'd be right," Charlie replied, gasping, tossing his head on the bed. "Fuck, yes. Your hand...oh, my God." Then Gregory swallowed his mumbled words as he claimed Charlie's mouth. He went wild for him, thrusting and grinding as Gregory played with his balls. Every now and then, he reached to stroke or tap his ass and Charlie went insane.
Moments later, he pushed Gregory up with stiff arms. "Stop! Fuck, gonna come. Want you in me." Green eyes bored into his with an intensity that was electrifying. "Please, Greg?"
No going back. He heard the thought, and didn't want to stop. "Okay, baby." He clutched the lube bottle. "I need to go slow this time, okay?"
Charlie blushed. He actually blushed. "Anything."
A ripple rolled over Gregory's frame at the breathy reply. Gregory had a pretty good idea of what needed to be done. Slicking his fingers, he rubbed the tips together, getting a feeling for the liquid.
"Tell me if I hurt you." Charlie nodded, not blinking once. He circled Charlie's rosette and Gregory watched his lashes slam shut, his chest rising and falling with rapid bursts of oxygen.
Charlie's fingers clawed into the bedding. Pushing forward, Gregory slowly stroked him, feeling his muscles loosen.
"Another. Keep going," Charlie urged. "Feels so good. Been so long."
"You're okay?"
"Incredible," he moaned.
Following Charlie's instructions, Gregory loosened him, amazed at how the friction had Charlie almost howling like a tomcat. He opened, then rolled on the rubber. "Charlie?"
With a faraway stare, Charlie focused in his direction. "Slick it up, then bring it home."
"That's it?"
Charlie's smile was sweet as spring rain. "That's it. Just hurry. I'm wound tighter than a top."
Positioning himself on his knees between Charlie's thighs, Charlie canted a leg and Gregory watched as the tip of his cock nestled against pulsating, slick-glistening skin. Then he stopped thinking before the obvious differences froze him, only allowing himself to feel.
It happened almost effortlessly. Maybe it was Charlie's knowledge, maybe it was the way it was meant to be between them. He had no idea, but a breath later, two, and he had breached the outer muscle and had to stop, quivering as sensation consumed him. Swamped by a tenderness he'd never known, he eased his weight forward, impaling Charlie, one excruciating inch at a time.
By the time he was sunk balls deep, he was sweating and shaking. "Oh, God. Never imagined." He leaned forward, bracing himself over Charlie's chest. "So tight. So good." The urge to thrust was beating at him. His balls sucked up, tight, craving, and he had to do something. "Have to move, Charlie."
"Fuck me, Greg. Make me feel everything."
"Love your mouth. Talk to me, baby. Love every filthy thing you say." He twisted his hips, engulfed in more clenched heat. Gregory slit his eyes, catching the evil knowing look in Charlie's gaze.
"You like that? Then fuck me, Greg. Fuck that ass until I scream."
Gregory shivered, swept up then under with a strike of need that sank deeper than anything he'd ever felt in his life. Hiking Charlie's legs with a quick assurance that he was comfortable, he did what the man asked for.
He pounded the hell out of his hole, driving long strokes hard and deep.
"Oooh, yesss. Just like that," Charlie panted. "Shit! Make me paint my chest."
"Stroke your cock, Charlie." It was an order, but neither seemed to care as Charlie moved to fulfill his wish. Gregory was lost, grinding and fucking Charlie's ass like he never would have dreamed of fucking a woman. Deep, powerful thrusts that slapped their bodies together. Muscles screamed as tension mounted. Charlie's body was flushed with heat, his face taut with pleasure, his lips swollen as he panted out more wickedly filthy things that deliberately tossed fuel on the fire.
Then Gregory was swearing and his frame bowed. The heated prison of that tight ass on Gregory's cock sent him over the edge. Wild, forceful jets that sucked the energy right out of him. He watched amazed as Charlie did the same, shooting hard as he pumped his shaft with a fist until he whimpered, exhausted and drained.
Sweat dripped down Gregory's shoulders. He let Charlie's legs slide to the bed and the motion inched him backward. Barely conscious, he gripped the condom and staggered to his feet. Damn the house for having a separate bathroom, but he made it, disposed of the condom and washed his hands. With a towel in his grasp, he returned to the bed, leaning over Charlie before he collapsed on him. "Do you need this?"
Charlie's voice was hoarse, dry. "You're a prince." He raised enough to steal a kiss, and then, claiming the towel, cleaned up his chest.
"Can I?" Gregory picked at the sheets, still under a slowly moving Charlie.
"Come here." Charlie rolled over, made room and slipped underneath to wrap himself into Gregory's arms as he stretched out with him, his head on Gregory's chest. "Amazing."
Gregory stared at the ceiling long after deep breaths proved Charlie had fallen asleep. He was just as exhausted.
Only there had just been a monumental change in his life which hadn't been there that morning when he'd awakened.
There was no doubt Gregory was gay, and even less of a doubt that he was in love with Charlie.
"Do you really not want me to go?"
Charlie bristled. "It's not that I don't want you to go..."
"Could've fooled me." Greg growled, then stomped his foot into his sneaker the next morning. "I want to be there for you."
"But it's going to take hours---"
"So?" Greg reached his feet from the side of the bed he'd slept on. "Look, if it bothers you that much, I won't go, but honestly it sounds to me like you're picking a fight."
Charlie grimaced. He was, but Greg didn't have to know that. The man was getting under his skin. Charlie stayed frozen on his side of the bed, unwilling to get too close. He feared he may bend, or worse, crumble if Greg touched him again. He never should have let yesterday happen, but now it was too late.
They'd awakened in each other's arms and had begun talking about their plans for the day. When Charlie had explained he had to go to Corpus, Greg immediately offered to go with him, take him, anything he needed.
Except waking up, finding those brown eyes watching him with an amplitude of warmth, had shaken him. The discussion had degenerated into a push-and-pull argument, and was escalating quickly into a full-blown fight, and Charlie didn't know how to stop it. He wasn't sure it was in his best interest to stop it. Not after yesterday. Not after last night.
"Greg. Have you really thought about what you're getting with me?" Picking the worst thing that Charlie could think of did nothing to sway him.
"Every fucking day," he muttered, tucking his long-sleeve shirt in with jabs. "Don't throw that at me. You're not in a wheelchair, and even if you were, I'd still want to spend time with you."
Charlie gaped at him. "You can't be serious. You really don't know that."
Greg heaved a breath, plowing a hand through his hair. "Maybe not," he replied evenly, staring across the bed, conceding that point, but the determination in his gaze said he would do what it took regardless. "I saw your damaged leg last night, Charlie. Did you think I'd run screaming because of it?" Gentleness smoothed his anger, though his eyes still snapped. "I know it's a part of you. You think it makes you less than perfect. To me, it makes no difference at all." He stood, unmoving, waiting. With fury deepening the red on his neck the longer Charlie stayed silent, he bit through a clenched jaw, "This was just about the sex?"
"Of course it was," Charlie tossed out, determined not to let the hurt on Greg's face get to him. He almost broke right there at the fire of pure anger in the lash of Greg's words.
"And you're a fucking liar." Greg snarled. "Fine. Go to Corpus. I'm not going to let you do this, Charlie. We've both got hang-ups, but I'll be damned before I let you force yours onto me. I have to go see if my house is still standing. I didn't kennel Samson last night and I've never left him alone overnight. I'll call tonight to see how it went."
"Don't," Charlie whispered. He dropped his eyes. He swore he couldn't let his heart get involved again because he honestly didn't think he could. He knew he couldn't trust, knew he couldn't care.
Now wasn't the time to be proven wrong.
"Bastard. You used me," Greg spat, his eyes narrowing and growing colder by the second. "This isn't easy for me, Charlie, and now you act like I'm a cheap fuck. Are you going to pay me next?"
"No!" Charlie shouted, his heart in his throat. He flinched at the pain and anger emanating from Greg, the insult cutting him deep. It was exactly how he was treating Greg and it wasn't fair or right, or true. But it hadn't meant more. Had it? Greg's snarl whipped across the bed and Charlie wanted to beg him to stop.
"The fuck you didn't. What? Did you guess I was attracted? Did you play it all up so you'd get laid? You're the scarred, feeling sorry for yourself victim, and I played right along with it, didn't I?"
"Greg..." No, no, no. This isn't right! You have it wrong. But he couldn't tell him that. Greg's humiliation was feeding his own. This was going so wrong, but he couldn't make him stop, couldn't tell him he was wrong. There was no future in an emotional relationship. It had to be a one-off deal. The memory of how he'd touched Charlie last night shook him, not avoiding or making an issue of his leg or scars. It all made his heart thud painfully. Soon Greg would realize just what he was getting with Charlie if he pushed, and he'd regret it to the last word. Charlie didn't have the strength to stop any of it.
Greg took a step away from the bed as if he needed a little more space between them. The chasm Charlie was helping to create. "I'll tell you what, if this friendship means anything to you, call me when you're fucking ready." Then he spun on his heel and marched out of the bedroom to smack the front door closed, out of Charlie's house, and very probably out of his life.
Isn't that what you wanted?
Not like this, he silently moaned. Not like this.
"No, Mom. I'll be there in January for Josh and Laurence's ceremony. I bought that ticket before I even got home." Gregory didn't want to be scrounging at the last minute for airfare or a seat.
Gregory sighed, his head pounding. He was stretched out on the couch, the one with two more holes in the side thanks to Samson. It was only what he deserved. At least he hadn't actually destroyed something or left landmines as special welcome home presents. The couch was a couch and when he wanted to do something about it, replaceable. He wasn't so sure about the rest of his life.
"Well, Jay and Libby will miss you for Christmas."
"I know, Mom. I'm sorry, but three months in a row is a stretch, especially since Christmas is right around the corner. I'd be lucky to find a seat on a wing, outside."
"I'm sorry, too. Speaking of your friends, Laurence and RJ stopped by. We had a nice lunch last weekend."
"I'm glad to hear it. I know we've all been busy. They miss you."
"They miss you too, honey. I'm not saying this to nag, but would you think about moving home? It's just not the same when you only get to fly home once or twice a year."
Gregory dropped an arm over his eyes. Two days ago, it would have been an emphatic no. Now... "I have the house, Mom. The market isn't all that great. I'm not sure I wouldn't be in the hole over it."
"Give it some thought. We all miss you."
"I miss you guys too," he replied, forlorn and aching.
"I hope you have a good Christmas. Spending it with anyone? Didn't you say you had friends on the beach? Charlotte?"
He grimaced. "Charlie. A guy." He knew what his mother was getting at. Good God, was she going to be disappointed. Gregory had been wallowing for two days. He was spoiled for women now. He hadn't felt a flicker of interest watching the volleyball championship replays, one of his usual eye candy musts. All because... He stopped himself. He couldn't think about it, least of all with his mother on the other end of the phone. "I don't know what he's doing." He definitely didn't have the balls to break it to her over the phone. Sorry, Mom, your little boy is gay. Yeah, he was just dying to do that to her. Maybe he wouldn't ever have to face it again. Maybe... Maybe he could put it off indefinitely. If Charlie never talked to him again... Oh, fuck, was that depressing.
"Look, Mom. I have a headache. I need to find the aspirin. I'll call on Christmas and talk to everyone, okay?"
"Of course, sweetheart. Take care of yourself, and your puppy too."
Gregory rolled his eyes. That puppy had hit a growth spurt and now had legs like stilts and no concept of body mass. "I will. Tell Dad and everyone I said hi."
He tapped the end button on the phone, lying prone on the couch. A wet nose dug into his neck. "Hi, Samson." Snufflelick. Aspirin, then a potty break for the hairball.
Groggy, he stood and rummaged in the kitchen until he found the aspirin. Shaking a couple loose, he downed them with a gulp of juice out of the carton, putting it back where he found it. He palmed the leash as he walked the way he'd come from. After toeing into his sneakers, he donned his windbreaker.
Christmas was looming, and the winds weren't being kind. With his hands in his pockets, he let Samson wander the front yard, debating if he should do the tree thing this year. He did last year, but it had been depressing, and now with Charlie not talking to him, he knew it would be as bad, if not worse.
He missed him, and that was just the sad truth. He hadn't even really been able to concentrate enough to think about his documents since the fight. But this was something Charlie had to fix.
When Samson was finished, he took him inside, not even interested enough to walk on the beach.
Two more days slipped by and Gregory wasn't so sure Charlie was going to even try. To get through those last two days, he'd been glued to his computer, and just hit send to ship off some eighty pages of translated documents. It would make a nice paycheck considering he didn't have any presents to buy.
On a whim, he pulled up the airline site for his flight in January. He really wanted to take Charlie, wanted him to meet everyone.
He closed the page before he made a colossal financial mistake.
They really should be speaking before committing him to being on that flight.
Turning off the monitor, Samson's head perked up next to his feet. "It's the wind," he muttered. Then he was proven a liar when someone knocked at the door. This close to Christmas it was probably someone looking to take a bleeding heart to the bank, or his mother had mailed him something and it was the postman.
Running a hand over his jaw, he realized he hadn't shaved. Who cares? At least he was dressed, even if it wasn't anything better than staying in jeans and a T-shirt.
He stood and walked to the door, opening it with no real way to prepare himself. The sight of the man on his front stoop knocked him speechless.
"Hi," Charlie said, an unsure shadow deep in his eyes, which snagged on him, then dropped a fraction.
"Hi." Oh, you're so intelligent-sounding, he mocked himself. "Come on in."
"Thanks." Charlie cleared his throat. The tap of the rubber knob on his cane on the tile was louder than either of them. Charlie shut the door. Samson sauntered up and Charlie obliged with a head scratch. Gregory's heart lurched at the softening of his face, the smile on his lips. Fuck. I have this bad.
Charlie wore another one of those thick, chunky sweaters, though now with it being colder, the first day of winter looming, he had a valid excuse, Gregory supposed. But instead of loose sweats, he wore relaxed jeans. Following the way the denim curved to his shape, then didn't, it occurred to him why he wore the loose clothing. To hide the irregular shape of his leg tighter-fitting fabrics would too easily expose. It didn't really matter what he wore, because he looked amazing. Gregory took his fill while Charlie petted Samson, whether or not in a hurry or unsure, he took his time to speak or look at Gregory. It was killing him, but he kept his mouth shut.
"I guess you're waiting for me?" Charlie finally asked. His attention pinned on Samson.
Gregory shrugged, crossing his arms. "You're the only one who knows why you're here."
Charlie nodded. "True." He stopped petting Samson, who left them with a wagging tail, satisfied he'd received his due. Green eyes rose and held Gregory's. "I'm sorry. None of it was true. You're not a cheap lay, and..." Charlie took a slow breath. "And whether I'm ready for it or not, you mean the world to me."
Gregory's arms loosened to wrap around Charlie's body, bringing him close. Charlie rested his head on Gregory's shoulder in answer. "It's okay, baby," Gregory murmured, caressing his neck with tender fingertips.
"Not really, but I'm dealing with it."
Gregory tugged him up with a light hand to look in his eyes. "If it helps, I've been miserable."
Charlie shook his head. "I never wanted you to be. It went from taking our time to waking up feeling like a couple."
"And that scared the shit out of you, didn't it?"
"In so many ways," he replied, wide eyes framed by golden lashes.
Gregory continued to massage his neck.
"I don't even understand how you're making the change so easily. It's confounding me," Charlie told him. "You were heterosexual for your entire life, safe for me to know, then in less than two months, you go gay and I'm in so much trouble, I can't say my own name most of the time."
"I guess it isn't making sense." Gregory eased his arms from around him, sorry to let him go, but knowing he shouldn't smother him either, no matter how much he'd missed him. With a guiding hand, he led him to the couch. Charlie slowed as they neared, frowning at the latest war badges in the fabric from Samson. "It's okay. It was the sum of the damages." Greg kept a firm hand on Charlie. No getting away twice.
"And that's a good thing?"
"Considering what he could have done? Completely. Now come here and sit with me for a few minutes." Charlie obeyed, sitting side-by-side with Gregory. "I think the problem is we have two different views of the spectrum. One end is your time at the station with Anthony and people like him." He paused and waited to see if Charlie was keeping track. When Charlie nodded, he continued. "Your family is a safe zone; they're going to support you no matter what." Gregory cupped Charlie's hand where it rested on his knee, just wanting to touch him after being without him for four days.
"For me, I've been around the gay community since the eighth grade. Maybe not living in the thick of it, but aware of it, with friends. When I went to college, the research floor I interned on was shared by several other students and mentors. That's where I met the three stooges. I wasn't the odd man out because at the time, Josh didn't know he was gay. They happened similar to us, as friends, then attraction. But that happening between them didn't matter, because we all stayed close, even though I moved out here." He paused to make sure what he was trying to say was making sense. "Honestly, no, it's not the easiest thing for me to go through. I've questioned myself more than once since I came home from Mom's, and I always come up with the same answer." He stroked Charlie's hand with his thumb. Knowing what he was about to admit could make Charlie push him away again, or worse. Gregory caressed the hand in his, saying, "Being gay doesn't scare me, Charlie, but not being with you does."
"But what about your family? And coming out? And---"
Gregory leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips to shut him up. Charlie's sudden intake of air proved he hadn't been expecting it. When Gregory raised and let those trembling lips go, he said, "What matters to me is you. As for them, exactly? I'll have to deal with it when it happens. I can't not make it hurt." Gregory ran a gentle hand over Charlie's jaw to ply into his short hair. "Now, the big question is, are you here to tell me you want to honestly try, or to justify why you think we can't make this work?"
"Damn," he breathed. "You're a real bastard." Though Gregory held him steady, Charlie's eyes dropped, his lashes hiding his thoughts.
"I'm not a pull-punches kind of guy, Charlie." He soothed him by rubbing little circles with his fingers into his scalp and temple. "And when it comes to something this important, I won't play games."
It was several agonizing moments before either spoke again. Charlie licked at his lips with a slow, enticing tongue, giving Gregory the want to nibble in its wake. He waited as patiently as he could for Charlie's answer. When in truth, he wanted to pin him to the couch and kiss him until neither could think a coherent thought, and never let him go again.
"Will---will you give us another try?" Charlie's emotion-laden voice sent goose bumps across Gregory's back.
"If you will do the same and mean it? In a heartbeat." Gregory watched Charlie's expression, almost feeling as walls cracked or crumbled entirely. The deep, protective barriers he'd carried and wielded for more than a year fell into piles of rubble and dust.
The hand in Gregory's grasp flipped, and Charlie knitted their fingers together. "You know what you're getting. I'm the scratch-and-dent model," he said, attempting for humor, though the insecurity in his expression said far more.
"And I'll tell you this until I can't say it anymore. It makes no difference to me."
Firming his shoulders, Charlie straightened and stared into Gregory's eyes with a clear, green gaze. "Does this mean we've made up?"
Gregory grinned, feeling lighter than he had since the second Charlie's front door had slammed behind him. He never wanted to experience that bereavement again. "Yes." He even leaned in and grabbed another kiss to prove it.
Charlie melted into the kiss. Gregory tightened the hold on his nape, not overwhelming him, though the man's kiss certainly made it challenging not to sink headfirst into the heat.
Gregory's lips tingled when he released him, savoring the flavor of Charlie's kiss.
Charlie trembled. He didn't think he'd ever felt so exposed in his entire life. Greg's hands were gentle, cradling, caressing, demanding nothing more. Slowly, he began to relax. He'd been such a knot since the morning Greg had stormed out on him. The only time his mind hadn't been wrapped around Greg was during the evaluation visit when he'd needed to respond to commands and move his leg in precise patterns.
He continued to play with the hand clasped in his own as he came to accept he couldn't run from what he felt for Greg. Charlie wasn't any happier with that admission, but at least he wasn't falling apart like he had been. Walking through his door after his trip to Corpus, dying to pick up the phone and tell Greg all about it...then stopping himself from doing anything of the sort had felt like he'd ripped a part of his heart out.
He'd barely bothered to get out of bed the next day.
That was when he knew he needed to really think about what was happening between them. Charlie ran his own fingertips down the cupped bowl of Greg's palm, noting the fine shiver that marched up his arm because of it. "Do I really make you feel like that?" he whispered.
Greg tipped him upward with the press of a thumb under his jaw. "Charlie. You've been making me feel 'like that' since before Thanksgiving. Taking that trip to LA was the best thing I could've done."
"Really?" He studied brown eyes, following them as Greg shrank the space between them again to steal another kiss. Just a light, slow caress. It made Charlie's heart pound until Greg straightened. His lips were warm and tingled from his kisses.
"Really. Something Josh said to me made what I felt manageable. And when I got home, manageable became all-consuming. I had to know the truth."
"Wow," Charlie breathed. "What did he tell you?"
"That I may not have been gay then, but I did like you, and he was right."
"The jeans." So much became clearer then. Charlie would never forget that night. The jeans, or the kisses that came after.
Greg's gentle smile turned into a devilish smirk. "I take it they worked?"
"You're lucky I didn't toss you to the floor the minute you walked into the room," Charlie retorted.
Greg leaned forward, scratching against Charlie's cheek and throat with the stubble on his chin. He leaned into the roughness, arching with a gasp, eating up the raw shocks. Warm breath eased over his ear, then Greg said, "If we've made up, want to go cuddle?"
"Just cuddle?" Charlie gazed at him through his lashes with a knowing tip of his mouth.
"If clothes happen to get in the way..."
Charlie laughed quietly when Greg trailed off, striving for an innocence that was as fake as snow in south Texas. The secrets in his eyes were anything but innocent.
"I like the way you think." Charlie followed when Greg stood, walking with him to the bedroom, still holding hands.
Like the front of the house, there were unpolished tile floors to make it easier to get rid of sand, with a rug runner to the bathroom. The blinds were pulled open to a small backyard, though he wasn't close enough to get a view of the beach. The bed and dresser were a matched pair, understated in comparison to the rich hues of the rest of the house, a lighter wood tone. His bed was made though. Charlie's hadn't been officially made since he'd changed the sheets the day he drove to Corpus. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep on them with Greg's unique scent embedded in the cotton.
"How did the appointment go for your brace?" Greg eased Charlie to the edge of the bed and nimbly flipped off his sneakers, then pushed his shoulder to urge him to fall over. Charlie did as he asked, watching as Greg set his cane nearby at the nightstand. He scooted over on the bed, making room for Greg.
Once they were lying comfortably beneath the blankets, Charlie wrapped in Greg's arms, he answered, "It went really well, actually. The routine I've kept up on my leg has improved it."
"That's good, right?"
Charlie smiled, pressing into the valley of Greg's throat beneath his chin. "Very good. I might never need the cane again with the brace."
"That's wonderful for you," Greg said. His fingers danced up and down Charlie's spine. "Did they say anything about the seizures?"
"Just that if I continue to work it, keep it limber, they'll occur less frequently, but they likely will never go away."
"Good and bad."
"Yeah." Charlie sighed. "I'll take it." Greg chuckled lightly, bringing him closer, hooking a leg between Charlie's to wind them together. Their combined warmth and the softness of the bed was making him drowsy. He'd lost sleep since Greg had stormed out on him. Not too surprising, he guessed. And just being held by Greg again felt so damn good. He couldn't fight the yawn when it hit. "Sorry," he mumbled. Charlie tried to pry his eyes open, but they refused to cooperate.
"It's okay. Sleep. It's been one of those weeks," he offered with a hint of wry humor.
"No kidding," Charlie replied, snuggling in tighter with Greg reciprocating. The gentle swished stroke of Greg's hands on his spine relaxed him into sleep.
Charlie hummed sleepily when warm lips brushed across his temple, leaving a slow burning trail over his cheekbone. The rasp of short stubble burned and aroused at the same time as Greg nuzzled closer to flick at Charlie's earlobe with a teasing tongue. Somehow, he wasn't complaining on just how, exactly, Greg's hand had wiggled under the front of Charlie's loose sweater without him knowing, and was rubbing and petting over his chest and nipples, firing shivers of flickering desire into his bloodstream. He sighed, awakening to the delicious feeling of being stroked to consciousness.
"Am I doing it right?"
Charlie smiled. His eyelids lifted drowsily to stare into brown orbs. Dusk had swept over the room, replacing corners with shadows, and the quiet of coming night.
"I don't think you could do it wrong." As if testing the theory, Greg scored Charlie's chest with gentle clawed nails. He hissed in answer, arching with a gasp as he snapped fully awake---all over. He moaned thickly. "Definitely not wrong," he managed, his throat tight as he fought for gasps of air.
Greg raised the bottom hem. "I think this is where clothes are going to start getting in the way."
Charlie slipped an arm out of a sleeve and Greg tugged the garment over Charlie's head and off, tossing it to the side. The change of temperature caused his nipples to tighten.
Greg rolled their lengths together until Charlie was beneath him. "Is it normal for a guy to be this sexy?" he asked, gazing down at Charlie with unadulterated hunger.
Charlie shrugged, feeling a bashful heat on his face. "If you find it sexy, then I guess so."
Greg shifted, aligning their bodies. The raw honesty in his gaze froze Charlie. "I think you're incredible." The hushed tone of his voice registered. Greg was still coming to terms with what it all meant. Charlie wanted to be the one to help him get there.
With a tender hand, he sifted upward through Greg's hair. "I'm glad. I can see it in your eyes when you look at me. You don't see the scars, and that means everything to me."
"Baby," he breathed, dipping down to sip a kiss from his lips.
Charlie melted, his arm plopping limply to the bed. How could he not melt? He knew he was cracking under Greg's persistence, scars or not, fears or not. Tipping his chin, Greg didn't disappoint, flowing from his lips down his neck with slow, hungry kisses. He purposely dragged the rough of his chin over Charlie's chest and he moaned.
"The sounds you make." Gregory's shoulders flexed and he panted, a ragged shudder racing over his form.
"Turns you on?"
"So much. Never knew."
"Not like a woman?" Charlie asked, honestly curious.
"Not like this, not like you." Gregory hefted to lean over him on locked arms, his gaze searching, thoughts running like rampant winds over his features. "It's like something that was missing has finally clicked, but I never knew it was missing to begin with because I've never been in this situation."
Charlie's heart pounded. It would destroy him to be betrayed twice. "Do you think anyone else---"
Greg shook his head with an assured strength. "Only you. I know I couldn't be like this with another man. You've never been with a woman, have you?"
It was Charlie's turn to shake his head. "Not once. I kissed a few in high school, determined to prove to myself that if I could, I wasn't gay. It only proved I didn't care for it half as much," he admitted.
Greg's fingers massaged his scalp again. "Color me selfish, but I'm glad."
"Cheesy." But it warmed Charlie from his knees up.
"So I'm doing this right?" Greg asked again.
"Babe, I really don't think you could do anything wrong." Charlie's fingers caressed Greg's shoulder to glide down his arm. "Touch me," he whispered. "Like you did the first time."
"I will."
Charlie trembled at the promise in that answer. He didn't want to close his eyes and just lay there, but the meticulous attention from Greg made him boneless. It became clear then that Greg was a force to be reckoned with. While Charlie had been a top with Garen, he couldn't seem to find an ounce of strength to try to take down the man who held him in the palm of his hand in so many ways. Shivers and shudders rolled over his body as Greg enticed him, teased him. Fingers to fingernails, tongue to teeth.
The fastenings on his jeans were undone and with tender care, Greg stripped Charlie bare.
"Damn," Greg breathed in an awed tone. "That is one of the sexiest pictures I've ever seen."
Dazed, Charlie tried to focus. Burning embers were what he found when he collided with Greg's gaze.
Greg splayed a flat hand over Charlie's torso, reaching from his chest to his upper abdomen, stilling him. His fingers flexed, as though absorbing his essence into himself through his palm. "You, baby. Women will do anything to try to make themselves appealing. Waxing, fake tits, dyed hair, but this, it's all you with that sexy, kiss-me mouth, looking like you've been loved for hours already. I can't get enough of it."
Charlie knew he blushed from his neck to his hair. No one had ever spoken like that about him. Then he gasped sharply when Greg lowered his head, teasing the tip of his cock with the heat of his breath.
"Like that?"
All Charlie could do was mumble in agreement. The lash of Greg's tongue on flesh was shocking, driving heat into rushing blood with volcanic force. He bit his lip, holding back the moan. Geez, Greg made him sound like a cheap whore, moaning and whimpering at the slightest touch. The bed shook as Greg shifted his weight between Charlie's splayed legs. He blinked and tried to peer down his own body. "You're still dressed?" The scratch of denim on his legs was unmistakable.
"For now," he answered.
Charlie sagged to the pillow, panting. Greg's breath flowed over him as he nuzzled his nose into Charlie's groin, drawing deep inhales and sighing. Goose bumps erupted over Charlie's body. The dragged swipe of Greg's tongue over his balls was heaven and hell.
"That's it, moan for me." Greg licked again and Charlie couldn't keep himself from doing exactly that, moaning under the torment of Greg's learning tongue. He arched, crying out when Greg took one hardened nut between his lips. The hum of approval sent shocks up his spine in ricocheting ripples. His cock throbbed. Then, as if Greg knew where he ached the most, he swept the flat of his tongue up his length, beginning at the base to engulf his head and close his jaws around him. Charlie's body clenched when Greg drew on him, sucking him slowly into his mouth. Charlie reached down and flicked his fingers through Greg's hair, holding him, needing to touch him as he learned what Charlie liked, which was a lot.
He hissed as Greg continued to lap and suckle, the stroke of fingertips teasing and tantalizing over skin and muscles. Charlie bit his lip when Greg pressed at his ass. He lifted off the throbbing hardness of Charlie's cock. "You ready for me, baby?"
"Don't you dare stop," he managed, his voice graveled with need.
"Wouldn't dream of it." When Greg rose up and smiled, Charlie's heart trembled at the heat and emotion in the other man's expression.
Greg eased from the bed, and standing beside Charlie, opened the nightstand drawer. "I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks." He lifted a bottle of lube and a strip of condoms out, a fully unapologetic glimmer in his gaze. Setting what he held on the edge of the bed, he undressed, untucking his shirt and tossing it away. Lowering jeans were a slow tease, exposing him in inches of suntanned skin.
Charlie couldn't look away. He loved Greg's cock. The head was flushed and deep red and as he watched, liquid seeped to the tip. He swallowed. Damn, he wanted to taste that again. Seeking upward, he caught the hungry burn pouring through him mirrored in Greg's eyes. As though reading his mind, Greg encouraged Charlie with an open palm to sit on the bed, then held him still, purposely directing the action as he lined up, then slid between Charlie's lips.
They both moaned. "I love your mouth," Greg choked out, his fingers digging into Charlie's shoulder. "Fucking best lips. Oh, shit." Greg shook, gliding in and out.
Now that Charlie had him, he didn't want to let him go, sucking him deeper and harder with each measured thrust. Strong hips pistoned the smooth length evenly between his lips. Charlie clawed his fingers into Greg's muscled thighs.
"Mmm, yeah, like that." Greg cupped Charlie's head, controlling even more. Charlie whimpered, wanting his cock deep on his tongue. He sucked as Greg withdrew and felt the man's body shake under his hands in reaction. "Fuck, Charlie." Greg held him back when he wanted to lean forward and do it again. "Never known anyone with a mouth like yours."
Charlie coughed lightly to clear his throat, Greg's taste swirling over his taste buds like an expensive wine. "Is that a compliment?"
"That's a fucking medal." Caring hands brought him to his feet. Charlie met his kiss tongue-to-tongue, and shivered when their cocks rubbed together. His skin burned everywhere they brushed and bumped.
Greg let him go, licking at his lips to nip at them with gentle teeth. "Turn around." Charlie blinked. "It's okay, baby. I got you." Greg gave him another lingering kiss. Charlie couldn't find it in him to resist.
He's already seen the scars, he told himself. Drawing a slow breath, he did as requested, giving Greg his back.
The unexpected heat of Greg's tongue sweeping up his spine sent shudders cascading in wild rushes over his body. He arched into the fiery sensation. Greg's fingers danced over his body, caressing his spine, massaging his shoulders and kneading where he knew the worst of his scars were. What he didn't expect was the feel of his giving mouth pressing kisses to those same scars. A shudder overtook him as he fought to breathe as shocks exploded beneath Greg's caring mouth.
Greg took his time, delivering soul-shattering adoration to Charlie's damaged body. The press of a flat palm urged him to lean forward and he did, landing to hold himself above the bed. Pressure on his legs encouraged him to widen his stance and Greg proceeded to totally destroy Charlie's control.
The care he'd taken on his back was repeated, lovingly on each ass cheek, then lower as he knelt behind Charlie and worshipped his legs. Running his hands in drugging sweeps over muscles and scars alike, he caressed and loved Charlie's body. In no small sense of the meaning, he claimed Charlie.
Every kiss pulled him tighter and tighter into the web of seduction and adoration that Greg cast over him. Every touch seared him to his soul. Then there was the gentle press of lips to the healed wounds of his right leg. It was the first time he almost collapsed because something had felt so good.
Charlie panted, his lips parted, his head hanging limply, entrenched in everything Greg did to him. At his utter mercy, and happy to be there.
The scrape of teeth on his ass dragged a growled moan out of him. Charlie was so close to having an out-of-body experience, it sucked him in hard to feel that rough sting, spiraling him into a sea of overload. The tap of Greg's tongue on his hole knocked his arms out from under him, shoving his ass into the air for the other man's exploration.
"Is this okay?"
Greg's concerned whisper echoed through the fog of pleasure. "Feels so good."
"Not too far?"
Charlie managed to shake his head, a breathy no his answer. Then he realized what Greg meant. The stabbing tip of Greg's tongue connected with flesh, rimming Charlie's hole. He shouted in bliss, his spine arching. "Oh, fuck!" Charlie's cock throbbed, drips leaking down the side. His balls were tight, heavy and full. Every clench of desire brought them tighter into his body.
"Okay?"
Charlie released the fisted grip he had on the sheets, gulping to relax. Not even Garen had done that for him. "Un-fucking-believable," he choked out. "Oh...arrrgh!" Greg did it again, not limiting himself to the tip of his tongue. Nails, breath, lips in contact to any inch of skin within range of his ecstasy-filled tools of torture.
Charlie was shaking uncontrollably with restrained need when Greg finally stopped. He petted the bed, thankful it was there to hold him steady.
"Charlie?"
"Anything," he croaked.
"Like this?" Greg asked, the tone a request, not a demand. He stood behind Charlie now, petting him with patient strokes of his palms.
"Oh, fuck, please. Yes!"
Cool liquid slick preempted the thrust of Greg's finger, slipping in easily with his body already heated to boiling and hungry for a good fucking. Greg didn't need instruction a second time, one hand caressing his lower spine as he worked Charlie's ass.
The sound of the condom opening was music to Charlie.
"This is incredible, Charlie," Greg breathed. "So perfect." Firm hands held him steady as Greg lined up and Charlie grunted, pushing into him, demanding and impatient. "Easy, baby, don't want to hurt you."
"Greg." He didn't care that he was begging, whining. He needed, in a way he couldn't ever remember feeling in his life.
He grunted when Greg slid through, the slicked glide of his cock filling him full. "Oh, fuck, yes," Charlie panted. "Give it to me. Want you."
"God, Charlie. You know what dirty talk does to me."
Charlie's shoulders flexed, his body wiggling, encouraging Greg's pace. "Then fucking fill me." Charlie was practically snarling, so stretched, so in need. Greg was killing him.
"Brace yourself."
Charlie did, planting his knees against the edge of the mattress and giving Greg his ass to pound. When Greg fitted them together, Charlie swallowed his sob, groaning deep in his chest.
"Harder?"
Charlie nodded, barely able to breathe as his body ignited.
Greg fulfilled his need. Like a lock had been broken, he reared backward, meeting the pistoning action with vicious grinds of his own. The slap of skin to skin echoed in the bedroom.
Grunts grew loud, his and Greg's. "Fuck. Gonna come, Greg."
Greg moaned, relentless fingers digging into his hips. "God, Charlie. So hot. So tight."
Charlie quivered, his skin tightening as his balls hardened more. "Come on, Greg. Fuck that ass." He felt Greg's shudder at his growled demand. He wished he had a mirror to see his lover's face, to see how he felt, to watch him as he lost it when he finally came.
Easing a hand under his body he fisted his bulging cock, and grunted as lightning struck. Greg groaned loudly as the pressure dominoed down his body, gripping Greg's cock in combined answer.
Then there was no stopping either as Greg shouted his release, grinding into Charlie's ass as his shaft thickened and he shot hot spurts into the condom. It only took a couple strokes to send Charlie's orgasm ripping through his system, hard jets that painted the edge of the bed under his chest and shoulders. Greg pulsed and glided until both were drained.
"God, Charlie. You're incredible. That was..." Greg trailed off, panting, sucking in heaves of air. A damp forehead rested between Charlie's shoulder blades.
Charlie tensed, unable to hide it completely, fearing he'd hear those three words he knew he wasn't ready for. After what they'd just shared, he really didn't want to end it on a bad note again.
Greg wrapped an arm around Charlie's stomach, giving him a one-arm hug. "Missed you, baby."
Relief swamped him. That he could accept and even return, because he'd missed the hell out of Greg. "You too, babe."
Carefully, Greg pulled his softening cock out of Charlie's body. "As often as we want, huh?"
"Like rabbits, if you're up to it." Charlie grinned, still pressed into the mattress, too blissed-out to really care about anything else at the moment.
"In about twenty minutes, if that long." Greg stroked his back lovingly. "It's like learning sex all over again, and trust me, this beats the shit out of Health Ed."
Charlie snorted, laughing at the leer in his voice. "Dork."
"Yeah, I know." But Charlie heard Greg's joshing grin loud and clear. A moment later, Greg returned with towels and after a teasing attempt at cleaning, they fell together to land in Greg's bed, snuggling into each other's arms.
Gregory held himself on a propped hand, watching Charlie sleep beside him. Samson had needed to go out, or he likely wouldn't have left the bed for anything. It was still sinking in that Charlie was there, and better, in his bed. His heart accelerated simply by watching him, his easy breathing a light snore that was as cute as he was.
There were flashes of memory, muted sparks, of the sex they'd had, though even he knew the difference between sex and something deeper. He feared Charlie had too and it had frightened him.
Charlie's hesitation was why he hadn't come out and told him he loved him right then and there. Gregory had never imagined two men could honestly make love, but now, he knew it was possible, and it was beautiful, fantastic. He'd poured all of himself into what they'd shared and Charlie's response had been euphoric, indescribable. He'd had a hard time stopping his explorations at all because he wanted to try everything, touch everything, kiss him everywhere. Gregory had been moving on instinct, and Charlie's responses had gone far above anything he would have otherwise had expected.
Hell, Charlie was more of a sex animal than any woman he'd ever been with. It was one of the things he loved about him. He was passionate. Deeply, wildly passionate. Greg wasn't always that rough himself, but Charlie enflamed him, drove him crazy with wanting to feel him, to taste him, to hear him shout and moan. Goose bumps rose along with the memories. He blinked, still amazed at himself by what he'd done, but once he got going, he couldn't stop himself. Not considering how it set Charlie on fire. There was a certain heat, a wildness to every inch he'd kissed or licked and even then, remembering, he craved more of it.
Gregory drew a breath, trying to keep his body from responding to the memories. He didn't want to wake up Charlie while he was working his way through what they'd done, and what he'd done to Charlie on top of it because there was no doubt Charlie had definitely enjoyed it. Saying Gregory had enjoyed exploring and shattering preconceived limitations was like saying the sun was a small, hot rock.
What if he did that to me? Oh, hell. That made his breathing slam to a jerked stop in his chest. Would he? Would he touch me, kiss me, like that? Shit, what if he...with his tongue? Gregory rolled to his back, panting jaggedly. His ass clenched in answer, a craving beginning to build that proved he wasn't going in the wrong direction with his own desires. He loved feeling Charlie's mouth on his cock. His cock fucking loved it. He was sure the rest of his body would be only too happy to be on that train.
Would he ever fuck me? Do I want him to? Hmm...how did this work between two guys? Feeling an embarrassed heat, he wondered if Laurence or Josh would tell him, help him fill in the blanks. He immediately shook his head. Gregory didn't need to take his questions to one of them when the man who would know best for the both of them was in his own bed.
Thinking of the evil duo, he realized if things were improving, Charlie could go with him to Los Angeles. That brought a smile to his lips. Charlie and all his friends from back home? He'd love it.
Gregory hoped Charlie coming to him was a good sign. Every minute he was in the other man's personal orbit he knew he was only falling deeper in love with him. How insane was it that even as much as he'd cared for Rachel, he felt absolutely vulnerable to Charlie, a guy?
Because he's the one who could break you. He couldn't deny it, not after only spending four days away from him, feeling his miserable lowest, missing him.
Rolling to face him again, he gazed at Charlie's sleeping profile. "I love you," he breathed, drawing a fingertip from Charlie's temple to his chin with the touch of a butterfly. Surprisingly, it didn't cause a wave of panic or terror to say those words. Maybe he'd honestly always been gay, and just never met the right guy. No wonder Josh understood him so well. Seriously, he'd never once thought of making love to a guy, never once found a male form attractive on the level that Charlie drew him. If they'd never met, he was willing to guess he'd have eventually married a woman, or maybe not. If after four years he really wasn't feeling their loss, he had his doubts.
Four years without Charlie, though, now after what they'd shared, how he felt? He shuddered at the thought.
Bringing their bodies tighter, he looped an arm over Charlie's waist and he shifted in sleep, curling into Gregory's chest where he liked to lay, his face in the valley below Gregory's chin. He was perfectly fine with that.
"Want to do Christmas at my parents'?"
Greg's fork paused while rising from his plate. "Are you sure you're ready for that?"
Charlie shrugged. Greg's gaze on him felt like a heavy weight. Here he thought Greg would jump at the chance. Maybe he was reading him wrong after all and Charlie really didn't have anything to worry about.
Now why did that cause a depressed lump in his stomach? He didn't want Greg to be that enthused to meet his family, did he? Charlie resumed eating his breakfast the same as Greg, confused by Greg's calmness and his own desires, which were still a mess, apparently. He'd stayed over at Greg's for the first time. Making up had taken most of the night, as it turned out, and he wasn't driving home at the ass-crack of dawn when Greg had all but tied him to the bed to keep him there. Naked, well-fucked, and exhausted, but there, nonetheless.
Charlie startled when Greg cupped the hand resting on the tabletop. "Baby, if you want me to come, I'd love to. Will they be okay with it? I mean, like in the same house?"
Charlie shrugged. "Garen and I never stayed over. Didn't have to, but if it makes them uncomfortable, we'll get a room. I don't see it happening." He glanced up and snagged on clear brown eyes. "Will you be okay with it?"
"First time for everything." Greg smiled, leaned in and swept a quick, stolen kiss from Charlie's lips.
Charlie studied him, wondering if he'd awakened a few cards short that morning. "Why do I get the feeling you'd do anything for me?"
"Because you're not wrong," Greg replied easily. "Well, anything within reason." He winked, then stood and walked into the kitchen to dump his plate and rinse it. Charlie watched the play of muscle under Greg's T-shirt as he moved. "Does it bother you that I want to do things for you? Take care of you?" he asked from where he stood at the sink.
Charlie rose from his chair and walked over to stand behind him, resting his cane on the counter to wrap both arms around his middle. Pressing his cheek to Greg's back, he replied, "Not as much as it would have a week ago." Greg's length relaxed in his embrace as tension seeped from him. "There's no reason to rush anything, Greg."
Greg's hand covered where his clasped in the front. "I know. That's why I wanted you to be comfortable with me, with asking me to go."
"I am." Charlie nuzzled him behind his ear, sipping at freshly-showered skin. There was something about the mix of soap, shampoo and Greg that comforted him. He seemed to find himself burrowing into the crook of his shoulder or neck whenever they were close like this. "I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't ready."
Greg eased himself around to stare into Charlie's eyes. "Then yes, I'd love to meet your family. They should see the riffraff you're keeping company with."
Charlie tapped him on the shoulder, admonishing. "Sure, professor. Try and convince them you're a bad seed."
"You should know. You make me grow in sinful ways."
Charlie shook his head, then grinned broader when Greg leaned in and kissed the end of his nose.
"Hmm. Would this be one of those times?" Charlie smirked, sneaking a telling peek downward.
"Now, definitely." Greg rocked his hips as though needing to prove it.
"God, that feels amazing." Charlie felt himself wanting to melt, the stiffening shaft of Greg's cock rocking against his own. He trembled, then shook himself as if out of a trance. "Greg."
He sighed. "I know. But you're coming back, right?"
"I am. Want me to promise?"
"Don't tempt me. I'll take it and hold it over your head," he groused good-naturedly. He swooped in and kissed Charlie hard. "Come back when you're ready. And this time, bring clothes and your weights if you want."
"Okay. Later this afternoon." Greg was kissing him before he could add more.
Gregory worked through lunch, wanting to have the evening to spend with Charlie. He wasn't expecting his e-mail to pop up. The colleges didn't usually contact him midweek.
He clicked through and read, his eyes widening while shaking his head. "They're kidding, right?" He lifted his hand to mouse over the message to delete, but stopped himself. One of the colleges he worked long-distance with was offering him a permanent in-house translations-slash-researcher position for damn good pay. Except it was in California. He could go home. But he couldn't leave Charlie. Greg gnawed on his lip. He remembered his mother's desire to have him home again, at least closer than he was, half a country away. He read the invitation again. It wasn't in stone, just a test-the-water e-mail. The more he considered what he could do if he accepted, the more it sounded like a good idea.
No, he knew he couldn't do it. Charlie meant more to him, and he wasn't scraping by so long as he didn't slack for too long, meeting the deadlines the colleges requested, and it wasn't as though they were unreasonable.
He closed the screen and got to work.
Charlie knocked on the door. Hearing a muffled "Come in," he opened the door and let himself in.
"No, Mom. I don't know."
Charlie shut the door quietly. He didn't want to disturb a phone call.
"I'm glad Josh put in a good word for me, but I can't." Charlie spotted Greg talking on the phone in the kitchen. When their gazes met, Greg blew him a kiss. Charlie let the duffel he carried slip to the floor. "Mom, look, that's not the only thing, but I don't really want to talk to you about it over the phone. I met someone."
Charlie smiled at his aggrieved eye roll.
"Yes, that's why I don't want to take the job, but it's not the only reason."
A job? Charlie feigned indifference, petting Samson now that he'd decided to come investigate. "Some watchdog you are," he whispered, smiling at the accelerating tail wags.
"Yes, I care a lot, but Mom..." He drew a breath. Frustration was clear in the way he paced stiffly around the kitchen. "I don't want to do this over the phone. There's something you don't know, a big something. Her name?" Charlie whipped up as Greg's face paled, his gaze locked on him. "Mom. Please. No, she won't be coming with me next month. Mom..." Greg sank to the floor where he froze, cradling his head in a shaking palm. "Mom, it's Charlie. Yes, my friend that I told you about. Yes, my male friend. I told you I didn't want to do it this way."
Charlie glided over as quietly as he could to where he sat in dull shock, unsure if he was wanted, or if he could help. Greg must have seen his sneakers because when he got close enough, he reached and grasped for his free hand, yanking him down to the floor, careful enough not to hurt him with his angst.
Greg's grip was clammy and tight as a vice over his hand when he said into the phone, "Mom, I'm gay."
The silence that permeated the house spoke volumes and Charlie held his breath, waiting.
"Mom? Are you there?"
Charlie's heart broke for him, the grown man a suddenly lost little boy. He leaned to rest his head on Greg's shoulder.
"I know, Mom. I'm almost thirty-four. You think I haven't wondered the same damn thing?" he muttered. "I knew it was going to be a shock."
Charlie rubbed his hand up and down Greg's thigh, supporting him.
Greg huffed ruefully. "No, you can't blame them. It's because of them that I'm actually handling it with a level of sanity. They're a good bunch and you know you adore them."
His friends. Charlie could guess that one.
"Yes, Mom." Greg raised his face and for the first time since he'd sunk to the floor, looked at Charlie with an absolutely peaceful expression. "There's no doubt. He's wonderful. Look, I need to finish up some stuff. Dinner. I'll call. Do me a favor? Let me tell Dad to his face. You know what it felt like to hear it this way. He deserves to hear it from me. Thanks, Mom. Love you, too."
Greg slowly lowered the phone, his head hanging limply. "Damn. That sucked."
"You weren't ready to tell her?"
"I just didn't want to over the phone, but she cornered me. Trust me. Never get into an argument with my mother. You can't win. I've had more than thirty years to figure out how. It's not possible. I'm not even sure if Dad's won any."
Charlie brushed a tender kiss to his cheek. "How did she take it?"
"I'm not sure. Shocked. Not thrilled, but not brimstone pissed."
"That's a good sign." He continued to rub Greg's thigh. "It'll be okay. But what was this about a job?"
Greg waved a hand, straightening to stretch his spine. Relief brought color to his features again. "Nothing important." He stood, then helped Charlie to rise as well. "Now then. Hi, there."
Charlie wrapped his arms around Greg's waist, and he did the same, caging him into his embrace. "Hi, yourself. Do I get a kiss?"
"Do you think you even have to ask?" Greg closed the gap and nibbled on Charlie like a sweet dessert, licking at his lips before claiming them fully. Greg dipped and teased with his tongue before delving in and wiping Charlie's brain clear of any thought but him. "Do you have any idea what that look does to me?" he asked when he let Charlie go.
"What look?" Charlie blinked, trying to get his brain online after Greg's welcoming kiss.
"This sexy, come-and-get-me stare that makes me want to strip you here and run my tongue over anything attached to you."
"And you say I'm the dirty talker."
"Don't get me started. We'll skip dinner again."
"Hey, I didn't start last night," Charlie teased with a smart reply and a toss of his chin. "But I am curious. What job?"
Greg pulled back, a slight frown dampening the playful lust. "One I'm not going to take. Josh put in a reference for me, and they emailed today to make contact. That's it. It's not a guarantee, and it's not one I'm taking."
"Were you interested in it?"
"Charlie."
"Were you?"
He waited, watching Greg debate his answer. "I was, but only because it would get me home again. But I'm not taking a job that will take me from you."
Home. In California. Family. Friends. He knew he couldn't hold him back from that if he wanted to take it.
"Greg. If you want the job, don't use me as an excuse to turn it down." He lifted a hand and stroked his jaw, shaven now, toying with his ear and hair. Charlie touched his lips to Greg's. "If you decide for any other reason not to take it, fine, but don't use me. Promise me."
"I promise."
"Good, now what's for dinner?"
Greg chuckled, moving in for another kiss. Charlie found out what was for dessert first.
"Are you pissed about the brace?"
Greg slipped a quick look to Charlie, then forward, keeping his eyes on the road as they drove from the coast to Houston.
"Disappointed more. I'd hoped I'd have it by now." The holidays had done the usual and interrupted normal production of life's necessities. The brace would arrive, just not as soon as hoped.
Charlie had been thinking a lot since Greg's job offer a couple weeks before. One of the big things he'd been doing was working out where he was heading. He couldn't live off of his insurance for the rest of life. Well, financially he could, but another six months of inactivity? A year? He'd be going insane very soon. Especially with someone like Greg around, prying him out of the shell he'd been in since the fire. The brace would have helped him make another step forward, but it was only a delay, not a huge hurdle. A minor setback that would be corrected early next year. A fitting and a physical, and he'd be cleared to use it freely. He was definitely ready for it. No more wallowing. Dr. Morne would be proud of him.
Glancing behind him to check, Samson was asleep on the backseat and a few wrapped gifts were in the rear of the Jeep. Charlie was actually kind of surprised at how easily his mother had agreed to both Greg and Samson as holiday guests. Garen hadn't ever wanted to stay, and really, living in Sugar Land, it hadn't been necessary. Charlie guessed he'd never wanted to test his family's acceptance. Now he was going to, ready or not.
And if that was the case, then just what was he doing with Greg? Was this a relationship? Well, in all honesty, he couldn't deny that it was. Was it growing to be something more? Maybe even permanent? That thought made him pause.
Charlie stared out the window as the world flew by, not sure how to feel about that possibility. They'd been a couple for not quite a month. He honestly didn't see himself as a hausfrau. He wasn't a great cook, and he couldn't lift or do a lot of hard housework. His jaw rocked back and forth. He didn't hate taking care of things, but he wasn't the best housekeeper; his bed was a prime example. So being the stay-at-home, greet-him-with-dinner-on-the-table type wasn't going to work for him.
Greg was proof that a good education could pay off, and even better, find a way to work from home, which was something Charlie hoped to find. He knew his limitations, even if the brace increased his mobility. That was something that would take trial and error to discover his new boundaries. Which also meant he could take an at-home job wherever he went: Texas, California, or anywhere.
Greg was excellent at what he did. Any college would be lucky to have him. Charlie barely understood rudimentary Spanish. It was kind of hard not to get a little infusion, living in Texas.
So what did he want to do?
He'd always wanted to be a fireman. He loved the roll of the trucks, the adrenaline rush, the scream of the sirens and flashing lights, having a mission and helping those in need, saving lives. He'd felt like he had a purpose. Ever since he was a kid and took a tour of a local stationhouse with his elementary class, it was what he'd wanted to do. Too bad he'd never thought to choose a Plan B. He still wasn't sold on going to college, but if he had a purpose he'd go in a heartbeat. What he needed was a high school counselor to say, "I think you'd be great at..." and let Charlie pick from the six or so options to research or consider. Unfortunately, he was SOL on that. He did know he couldn't drift any longer. Maybe something would inspire him over the holidays.
Thinking about his future also kept him from dwelling too long on just what this was between himself and Greg. But thinking about his future made him wonder about Greg and his future. Good distraction.
"Did you talk to the college about the job?"
Greg straightened on his seat, as though coming out of his own thoughts. He tightened and twisted his fingers on the steering wheel, several popping as he readjusted. "I did. It's a good position, but there's a lot involved with taking it. There's the move, the house, and whether you want to be or not, you are on the same list, but you're not the only thing, and you're not in first place. I can be subjective about this."
Charlie shook his head, hiding his laughter, not at all hurt in Greg's honesty. "Glad to see it. So what is really holding you back? It would take you home."
"True."
"Is the money less?"
"Actually, it's a raise, plus they're not demanding exclusivity. I can still freelance."
"Very generous."
"I told them the same thing."
Charlie moved to sit on his hip, stretching his right leg out. "So, is it that you just don't want the job? Sounds to me like it's the closest to a promotion you could get in your type of work."
"In just about every way, it is." Greg looked over at him. His voice was curt when he said, "I'll tell you what. Let's talk about it after Christmas. I haven't written it off, but I'm not saying yes."
Charlie studied him, and relented. Maybe Christmas wasn't really the best time to make this kind of a decision after all. "Okay."
With a firm nod, Greg faced forward, both hands on the wheel, and a firmness to his jaw that silenced Charlie for the next two hours.
Greg's stomach was churning. He was trying to let him go. He could feel it. With the brace coming, Charlie wouldn't have anything holding him back. He'd have smoother mobility, wouldn't feel so self-conscious over using the cane.
Charlie wanted him to take the job, to make it Greg's choice to break them up.
He couldn't do it. Not the way he loved the man at his side. Hell, he'd actually admitted he was gay to his mother less than two weeks ago. He couldn't go back on that. He couldn't move forward with another man either. And definitely not a woman.
But if Charlie didn't care... God, that almost crushed him right there. This couldn't mean that little to him, could it? He'd invited him to meet his parents. They were almost to Houston as it was. To spend Christmas with his entire family. In the same bed, under their roof.
Damn, now he knew how a woman felt. Is he playing with me? Does this mean anything? Am I toy? How many times had he heard those same questions from girlfriends or women friends? He hoped like hell he'd never unintentionally led anyone on. He didn't think Charlie was trying to, but why else would he push him toward the job?
Maybe Charlie would care enough, maybe even love him by the beginning of the New Year, because Greg was going to shatter if all this had been one-sided after all.
Charlie knocked on the door, then opened it, shouting, "Mom, we're here."
"In the kitchen."
Charlie rolled a shoulder, beckoning to Greg to follow, Samson on his heels.
"You sure she's okay with the hairball?"
"He'll be fine. There's the backyard, a real one. He'll love it."
Greg shut the door behind them. Charlie tried to catch his eye, but he'd been lost in thought ever since their conversation in the car. He reached for him, tender fingers wrapping around his forearm, bringing his gaze up from a curious Samson, but anything he was going to say was interrupted.
"Charlie!"
He whirled and just managed to catch his pint-sized sister. She didn't throw herself at him. She knew better than to do that, but it always made him feel like the big brother when she hugged him like this. He embraced her, needing the contact more than he'd realized.
"You're here."
"Well, yeah. Did you think I was going to pass up my allowance of worshipping this year?"
Elizabeth giggled and smacked his arm lightly. "I should've known. All the big ones under the tree are yours anyway." She turned and offered a hand. "You must be Greg. I'm Elizabeth."
"Nice to meet you." He shook, and Charlie couldn't hide the pleased fact that Greg didn't seem at all attracted to her. There was nothing but politeness in his gestures, or in his voice.
Wait a damn minute! Charlie shook himself. Which is it? Do you want him, or do you want to let him go? The million-dollar question.
"The slobber machine is Samson." Greg petted Samson's head and he sniffed at Elizabeth; approving of her, the dog leaned into her for cuddles of his own.
"So you're really with my brother?"
Greg blinked and Charlie frowned. "Elizabeth."
She flipped a hand, then resumed petting Samson, unconcerned with the foibles of humankind. "What? So, he's cute. I'm single. I gotta take my chances."
"Sorry," Greg replied gently, as though genuinely not wanting to hurt her. "I'm most definitely with your brother."
The sheer strength of that answer showered tingles down Charlie's spine.
Wryly, Charlie said as an aside, "I'm taller, but she's older. She's made giving me hell an art form."
Greg faced him and smiled for the first time since they'd spoken in the car, though he should've known when the grin was pure male evilness he was in trouble. "I know a thing or two about art forms." Charlie blushed to the roots of his hair, making Elizabeth hoot with laughter.
"I love him already. Come on. Mom's elbow-deep in crust, or else she would've been out here already."
With Elizabeth tugging Greg with a slim hand on an arm, they trailed Charlie into the kitchen. Charlie heard the quiet whispers of the two behind him. Though when he worried about just what those whispers could be, confusing himself further, Greg caressed his hip with a fleeting touch when they stood side-by-side. The slightest heat of his breath warmed him as he whispered, "Only yours," into his ear.
Those tingles on his spine burst into full-blown sparks. He bit his lip. The next few days were going to be hell.
Gregory walked with Samson around the backyard, his dog thrilled with the change of pace and space, running back and forth to sniff at everything under Gregory's watchful eye.
"He's not a digger, is he?"
Gregory whirled, spotting the speaker by the rear door. Blond hair, though faded and laced with white, with the same rich green eyes Charlie had. The married life had been good to him, softening the same rough edges Charlie's were obviously hewn from. Maybe not as old as his own parents, but close within a few years. With the regimen Charlie maintained, Greg was sure he was looking at a good rendition of Charlie in thirty or so years.
"Not that I've seen. I keep him inside a lot. If you don't mind, I'd like to at least let him sleep in the room with me."
Charlie's dad shrugged. "Makes no difference to me. Greg, was it?"
"Well, Gregory, but I've gotten used to Greg."
"Leon." He neared from where he'd been watching Samson by the closed door. "I guess you've met Cyndi and Elizabeth." Leon hadn't really looked in his direction yet.
"I have. Both very kind." Elizabeth was quite charming, already proving she was on Gregory's side when it came to her brother's happiness. Now if Gregory just knew how to give it to him.
Silence fell between the two men, Samson's antics the only thing to break the quiet.
Gregory tucked his hands into his windbreaker pockets. The stiffness of the conversation wasn't lost on him, and he had a pretty good idea about what was causing it. He was replacing a bad specter of Garen. He wasn't wrong when Leon began to speak again.
"He won't tolerate pity," Leon said, his attention also on Samson.
"I've never shown him any."
"That's good to hear. I won't tolerate anyone else abusing him."
Gregory nodded, keeping his mouth shut to deliberately make his reply count. Flying off the handle because Charlie's dad was being protective would win him nothing. He knew the warning was and wasn't directed at him.
"I'm glad to hear that," Gregory emphasized. "Because neither will I."
Leon finally shifted his body to look at him, looked him up and down as though trying to figure out a boggling clue to a puzzle. "I don't understand it, but I honestly believe you care for him."
"That I could care for someone who's been hurt like him? Or as another guy?" Gregory didn't flinch, making it clear which he was.
"As a man."
The tension in Gregory's body eased somewhat. "Honestly, it's harder than hell to explain. Try explaining to your best friend how you felt when you first fell in love with Cyndi. It's just like that, only the package is different." Josh's wisdom comes through again. He almost sighed, but managed to stifle it.
Leon seemed to consider that. He rubbed the side of his face, then stuffed his hand into his slacks pocket. "I respect my son. I know it simply is. When he came out in high school, I did research to try to understand. It helped. Ultimately, I just want him to be happy. I thought Garen..." He paused thoughtfully. "We all make mistakes. His almost cost him his life."
"Mr. Baker...Leon," Gregory said, knowing what the man was trying to get across. "It's more than caring for him. There's things I haven't told him yet because he's not ready. If I didn't care, I wouldn't take that into consideration. I'm not going to railroad him. We both have things to work through to make this work. All either of us want is what he's believed he's always had: your support and love in his choices."
Leon's green eyes lifted, going unfocused as he stared outward to the yard before speaking. "That's a mouthful, son."
Gregory shrugged. "I wasn't gay before Charlie, Leon. He's more to me than just another guy. It's a lifelong decision to do this, and I can't and won't back out. Not on him, not on us."
Leon nodded. The elongating silence was finally broken when he said, "I appreciate you being so upfront about how you feel. You're the first since Garen. We'd all feared he'd never take the risk again. Finding someone to care for you is hard enough, but being gay, and the effects of the fire? Honestly, I can't imagine how hard it is for him." He raised a hand to rub over the back of his neck. "I can't understand, and it wouldn't be fair to assume that I do. Just take good care of my boy, Gregory. Now, if I could just find someone to take care of Elizabeth." He sighed, the exaggerated sound of a beleaguered father.
"Um...good luck?" He dared to offer a small grin.
Leon chuckled, looking much less drawn than when he'd first come outside. "Exactly."
Charlie opened his arms when Greg returned from the bathroom. With the door shut, cocooning them in, Greg slipped under the covers, and Charlie nuzzled into his embrace. "Merry Christmas," he whispered.
"You too, baby." Greg's light fingers stroked his spine. Charlie hadn't really thought about it, but Greg never avoided touching any part of him, as though the scars weren't there, or were simply a part of him, which he knew they were. Charlie wondered if Greg realized just how special that simple action made him.
"I love my family and I'm thankful that they've accepted us, but I'm ready to go home."
Greg made a thoughtful sound in his throat. His chin rested above Charlie where he settled in the crook of Greg's neck, breathing in the heady scent of his skin. It had been a stretched couple of days, but they were driving south the next day.
"Would that be home with me?"
Charlie stopped, just froze. Not moving and barely breathing. "Are you asking me to move in with you?" Or was he reading more into that than was meant?
"Well, you are renting."
Charlie tipped from his comfortable spot to see Greg's face. It was as calm as a motionless lake and offering nothing of his thoughts. His eyes weren't even open. "Greg," he breathed hesitantly. Greg sighed, his hand continuing to sweep up and down his back.
"Think about it."
Charlie heard the disappointment in the single soughing sound and his voice. "It sounds permanent," Charlie hedged.
"And that still scares you."
"Some." Charlie rubbed his head into Greg's chin and neck, caressing and connecting. Not running. He hoped Greg could see the difference.
"Charlie." Greg tipped Charlie's chin up, staring into his eyes. "Are you trying to break up with me?"
"No!" he cried, remembering at the last second to keep his voice lowered. "What gave you that idea?"
Greg studied him. "It's been eating at me since we drove up here. The way you pushed at me to take the job."
The beam of enlightenment hit him square. "That's why you've been so quiet." Charlie quickly wound his hands up and dug them into Greg's hair, bringing them close, almost nose to nose. "No. I'm not. I just don't want you to miss a chance at a good opportunity by using me as an excuse." To bring them closer, he wrapped a leg over Greg's thigh, pinning them together.
"If I promise you I won't, which I thought I already swore I wouldn't, will you move in with me?"
The tender hopefulness in Greg's gaze made his heart race painfully into his ribs. He realized what he was looking at and it made his mouth run dry. "Me, as in the whole package?"
One of Greg's eyebrows arched over a wide stare. "Why? Do you come in separate parts?"
"Smartass," he muttered, grinning.
Greg brushed his lips to Charlie's cheek. "Yes, Charlie. You."
Charlie rolled them both on the bed until Greg lay under him. Greg's legs widened, fitting them together, shooting a shiver of banked desire through Charlie's length as they lined up naturally. "If I think about it, can I tell you when we get home tomorrow, or after the New Year?"
"However long you need, baby." Caressing fingers ran up his body to form to the nape of his neck. "I want you with me. I..." Greg's petting paused, the focus of his eyes meeting, then slipping past his gaze, studying his fingers as they kneaded. "I know you're not ready, but I want you, like this, with me. I can't stop that."
Charlie listened to his words, listened to the way he said them and knew what he was holding back, what he was keeping inside. A drawn breath filled his aching lungs. Was he ready for what Greg was offering?
Laying his head on Greg's warm chest, he closed his eyes, listening to the steady thrum of his heart beneath him.
He really didn't know, but the bright light at the end of the tunnel was that it didn't terrify him the way it had, knowing Greg loved him and wanted for him to love Greg in return. And the fact that he thought he could didn't scare him now either. Cautious, yes. Too scared to even consider it? Not any longer.
With the sound of Greg's easy heartbeat under his ear, he was lulled to sleep, his heart healing with each thud beneath his chest.
Gregory held Charlie, feeling as he drifted off to sleep wrapped up close in his arms. Today had been long and fun, even a little exhausting with gifts that morning for the family and then a loving, jab-and-stab teasing affair at dinner. Cyndi was adorable, and obviously loved both her children with the thoughtful presents and large, planned meal she'd purposely made for them all. Leon was reserved in some instances, the same as Charlie, likely still withholding some aspect of judgment when it came to Gregory. What had surprised him was how they'd all treated Gregory like one of their family.
He hadn't expected anything but to spend time with them and get to know them all, and had been welcomed completely, although he still had Charlie's gift in his bag. He'd been debating when he should give it to him. Gregory didn't want to put the pressure on him in front of his family, and then he had to go and impulsively ask him to move in. Yeeeah, that's not pressure.
Gregory did want him to come live with him; he just hadn't planned on asking him five minutes ago. But one thing had led to another, least of which had been his relief that he'd been misreading Charlie's intentions on the job offer and it had slipped out. He was glad that he'd been wrong about that. He'd tried to put the worry out of his mind for Charlie's time spent with his family, and good to his word, Charlie hadn't mentioned the job again. Gregory's imagination had been creating all kinds of scenarios, none of which made Gregory feel confident or happy.
Never once had Gregory ever thought he'd feel like this. Rachel had been close, but not right. Now he understood why. He'd been ignorant to a certain aspect of his nature. It was as though, with meeting Charlie, a transparent separating wall had been knocked down. He'd seen the moving shadows on the other side, and understood what they were, but never saw himself in the same way. His upbringing and expectations had guided him. Jay, his older brother, was most certainly not gay. He wondered if this was why he had been more able to relate to the three stooges and their ilk than the beer drinking, boob and ass group he'd also known, but hadn't preferred to mingle with. And here he'd thought it had just been their crazy ways that he'd appreciated, not their lifestyles.
Now he couldn't get enough of Charlie's tight stomach, his smooth shoulders, or the sparkle of green eyes that gave away nearly every thought, whether Charlie was aware of it or not. Gregory didn't care about the scars on his leg; he had a fabulous ass. And he would never see Charlie as weak. Floating into the feeling, the love he never expected to happen this way warmed his heart, and so much more.
The press of Charlie's hard chest sent his blood pulsing wildly through his body. The heat of his skin made his palms burn with the need to touch him more. Charlie was an incredible man, and Gregory wanted to be the one to show him how incredible he truly was for the rest of their lives.
He let out a slow breath, hugging a sleeping Charlie into him. He knew there were still things to work through, but he feared he was more willing to try than Charlie was, and that bothered him. At least Charlie admitting he had no plans to end this between them had been a relief, gave him a little hope. He knew it was really his own insecurities in his latest changes that were adding weight to his fears. Hell, how often did men wake up and realize they weren't who they thought they were? He was weeks from thirty-four. Stroking Charlie's side with a thumb, he could easily remember the dumbstruck shock of his mother over the phone.
God, how he wished he could've found another way, any way to do that differently. But when she'd started pushing about the girl's name, and details, he'd cratered. He knew he couldn't let his mom create some imaginary vision. The disappointment after that would be mountainous, especially if he showed up in January with, he hoped, Charlie, and not a woman.
He'd been thinking over his life since meeting the man in his arms, trying to find the hints, and couldn't. It simply was because of Charlie that the changes were happening. The little tingles of excitement, the craving to be near him, the want to touch him. Those first kisses had sent him for loops. They still did. Gregory hoped that never changed.
Which brought him right back to square one and just what Charlie felt for Gregory. He swallowed the sigh. Gregory was pretty sure Charlie did care, it was there in his touches, in his glances. Caution shadowed everything the man did.
Then there was the job. It wasn't the job so much that he wanted, though it was an excellent position. It was getting home to his family and his friends. But not if it meant leaving the man in his arms behind.
What if he could go with me?
Gregory stared upward at the shadowed ceiling. He hadn't considered that before. Would he even want to? He wasn't tied to a job here, and coming home to visit wouldn't be a hardship. It would be no different than Gregory's own trips to the west coast. And there could be more options for him in Los Angeles than here on the coastal side of Texas where he was hours from any larger city.
He remembered he'd said if he had a purpose, he'd go to college, and Gregory would be working at one if he took the job. As his mind ticked, he began to get ideas, some good, some that needed to be discussed, yet all of them made it possible for Gregory and Charlie to stay together, and that was really all he wanted.
It was late by the time he finally fell asleep, but it was with a mind full of ideas and a heart full of hope.
"Can you come over for a little while, or are you too tired?"
Gregory reached across and wrapped a hand resting on a leg into one of his own as they crossed the bridge to the island. He hadn't brought up any of the ideas he'd come up with the night before on the drive. Now that they were away from family and rough traffic, he could barely contain himself. He wanted to start it with Charlie's last gift.
"No, not too tired, but I should go home tonight. Get clean clothes."
Gregory didn't push. If Charlie wanted some space after the last few days, he'd willingly give it to him. The days at his parents had been a successful test in his eyes. He couldn't imagine being without the man at his side now. Reading Charlie, though, remained a challenge.
"That's fine with me." He tapped his foot, wishing they were home, though it only took a little longer in reality. Samson leaped from the Jeep, recognizing home as soon as Gregory opened the rear seat door. "Samson, heel." He fell into step on command.
Charlie followed Samson as he did as told. "Those lessons have really paid off, considering how he listened to you when we met."
Gregory chuckled ruefully. "Tell me about it. Wild child. Come on inside. Leave your bag. It'll be fine until you leave." Gregory hefted his bag over a shoulder to carry in. He waited, wondering if Charlie's leg was the reason he was hesitant, his gaze flickering to the Jeep. He was about to offer to take him home, then, let him have his breathing space, when he reached Greg's side.
"Okay."
Gregory followed as he walked with a stilted gait, leaning hard on his cane.
"I hope the brace comes in this week. I hate seeing you so tired."
"It's just hard to sit for so long. Makes it stiff."
Gregory coughed to hide his snicker, aware Charlie hadn't meant that at all how it had sounded.
"Get out of the gutter," Charlie remarked as Gregory unlocked the door and turned on the lights.
"Hey, I'm only there because you led me there."
"Uh-huh. Blame me."
Love you was more what came to mind, but he held his tongue. "Go stretch. There's one present I want to give to you still."
"Oh?" Charlie toddled across the living room, working the kinks out of his thigh.
"Yeah. I waited because I felt it was more a you-me thing." When Charlie yanked around to stare at him with a cornered look in his eyes, he walked up to him, quickly adding, "It's nothing huge, baby. But it means a lot to me." Gregory cupped his face with two palms and brought their lips together. "Relax, baby. It's something that I really want you to have, okay?"
"Okay."
Worry flitted like dark clouds through Charlie's eyes. Gregory wanted to kiss them away, leave him with nothing but warmth and security in the moment. It wasn't fair that he could fall so hard into those green eyes. He had no idea how Charlie really felt, and it was starting to gnaw on him. He prayed this would be a way to find out, at least a little.
"Be right back," he whispered, dipping in for another kiss. After he let Charlie's lips go, he grasped his bag and disappeared into the bedroom. He tossed it onto the bed. He quickly stripped out of the light jacket he wore, dropping it on the bed with the bag. Opening the zipper pocket of his luggage, he withdrew the colorful red envelope, a green foil-embossed Christmas bow stamped on the corner. It reminded him of Charlie's eyes.
Drawing a deep breath to calm his nerves, he turned and walked into the living room. His gaze landed on the only other person in the house and his heart tripped. His lips tingled to touch his, to taste him. The jeans he wore sculpted over his hips and ass, teasing with what Gregory knew was really underneath the denim. The sweater was a rich purple. The man had a collection of sweaters that an army of sheep had provided. With his light blond hair and green eyes, he was magnificent.
"You're gorgeous," he said, unaware he'd spoken until the words slipped free.
Charlie spun.
"Damn ninja skills," he joked, his smile warm and welcoming. Gregory strode up to him, and with a palm capturing the back of his head, claimed his lips with the kiss he hungered for. He swept over warm, parted lips, then thrust within, tasting and dueling with Charlie's tongue until he was panting with Charlie leaning into him. "Damn." Charlie panted. "Where did that come from? And can we do it again?"
"As often as you like." Gregory's body was throbbing with wanting to do it again, but first... "I have this for you."
He held his hand up and waited as Charlie clasped the envelope between his fingers.
"What is it?"
"I can't tell you. It's a gift. Ruins the surprise."
Charlie lifted curious, questioning eyes for a moment. Then, carefully pulling the seal apart, he opened the flap and withdrew the two pages. Gregory waited, almost holding his breath as Charlie absorbed what he held.
"Are you serious?" Charlie's voice was quiet, shocked. He snapped up to catch Gregory's gaze, then returned to the pages and read them again, shaking.
"Completely. You said you'd never been."
"I haven't," he replied absently. Charlie's lip twisted. "I notice you whited-out the price."
"Only because it's not necessary for the gift. Besides, you always remove price tags, right?"
"I guess so."
Gregory's heart was pounding, waiting. "Charlie?" The silence was killing him. Samson came to stand at his leg and whined once. He knew this was making his human worried, because he was definitely beginning to worry that this was going to blow up in his face.
And he was proven right when Charlie tried to hand him the sheets. "I can't accept this, Greg. It had to cost a fortune."
"Money isn't an issue on this. It's a gift. Just say you'll come."
Gregory's hands rose and cupped Charlie's, and he felt the trembles flowing over the other man. Tremors he wanted to comfort out of him.
"Please? You invited me to meet your family. I want to do the same. I want you to meet them, and this would be perfect."
When Charlie finally raised his head from staring at the pages, Gregory knew he was going to decline, and it almost broke his heart. Worse than that, it felt like it was ripping right down the middle. He gripped the clutched hands in his more tightly. "Charlie, before you say no, could you at least try to meet me halfway? Christ, man. I came out for you!"
"It's not that, Greg."
"Then what? What is it? Because I'm at my wit's end. There's a thousand ways I've come up with to be with you, but it means nothing if you don't want to be with me."
"I do want to be with you, Greg, but you also asked me to move in with you. Now this. What next? Rings?"
Gregory's gut lurched. Rings? That concept shook him to the floor. Marriage? Gregory knew it was done, same-sex marriages. Hell, there was Josh and Laurence's in less than a month, but him? He'd never thought that far ahead. Apparently Charlie had the ability to do so and make it clear. Gregory's thoughts were about as clear as mud. His rampant thoughts were frozen when Charlie moved, creating a gap that Gregory wanted to destroy between them.
Charlie eased a pace away, shaking his head with a knowing sadness shadowing his expression. "Where did you think this would end up, Gregory? If I move in, meet your family? You've met mine. Even I can see what you're doing."
"You never call me Gregory," he mumbled, his heart thudding, breaking. What did he do wrong?
"Greg, this isn't a Cinderella story. You can't come to my rescue." A cool tightness had taken over Charlie's voice. It sent ice spiraling through Gregory's system.
"I'm not trying to!" Gregory yanked his hands away from Charlie's. "Damn it! Charlie, I care for you. How is this going so wrong?" How did an airline ticket do this much damage? He shoved a hand through his hair. "Okay, yes, I want you to move in, but I told you, when you're ready."
"And what happens if you take the job?"
"Damn it! What is it about the job? Why do you keep throwing that between us?" He tossed his hands through the air, at a loss.
Charlie hesitated, staring unfocused at the still-clutched sheets in his hand. Straightening his shoulders and with a blank expression, he offered the pages once more. "Because I think you're overlooking an important fact about all of this. If you take the job, where will I be?"
"I've thought of that," Gregory growled, ignoring the shaking ticket pages. His patience over these arguments was thinning fast. Why did it scare him so badly? Gregory was willing to bet it circled back to something having to do with Garen. Man, if he ever met that prick, he was kicking his ass to kingdom come. He wanted to shake some sense into Charlie, but instead fisted his hands by his sides.
"It's almost all I thought of last night, as a matter of fact. Why do you think I want you to meet everyone?" Charlie's exaggerated look of disbelief was the last straw. He hadn't planned on saying anything this soon. He knew Charlie wasn't ready for it and couldn't return it, not yet, but Charlie's doubts were driving him into a maelstrom of no return. He wasn't going to lose the man because he thought Gregory was anything like that shallow asshole he'd been living with.
"Damn it, Charlie. I love you. Okay? Is that what you wanted to know? Had to hear? I've been thinking about this, me, the job, fuck...us! For days. I want you to understand something this time, though. If you walk out that door thinking you're leaving for me, you're fucking wrong. You pushed me away once already. This time you're taking yourself out of the picture. You're leaving me, and I won't chase a man who doesn't want to be with me enough to try. I've given everything of myself because I fell for you. Either you love me enough to meet me halfway, or at least care enough to see if you can love me at all."
"I do care, Greg," Charlie replied hoarsely, skipping past Gregory's searching eyes.
"Then, baby, what is wrong?" Gregory encircled Charlie's biceps under his fingers, restraining himself not to jerk him into his body and keep him there, though it was a battle not to let him walk out the front door for what he knew would be the last time. "Why is the job such a struggle?" When Charlie didn't answer, Gregory knew he was right. He purposely gentled his voice, his hands. This was one wall that had to come down, if not right now, tonight, then soon, because Gregory could see this one keeping Charlie from him.
"Baby, I'm not Garen. I'd cut off my right arm before I'd hurt you. I don't even want you to go home tonight, if you want the honest truth. The thought of being here alone sucks, but I'm willing because after days at your parents, I believed you wanted some space. I'm not a dick."
"You thought..." Charlie's eyes widened into huge green pools. "You were so impatient to get home. I thought you were sick of me. You didn't even try to ask me to stay."
Gregory groaned and forewent his control, catching Charlie's trembling frame against his own. "You can go home tomorrow---to pack your stuff. You're moving in right now."
"But---"
"Charlie, the job is an option. Not only that, it's not even there until next fall. So we have, what? Eight months? Not to mention I haven't said yes. There's the red tape, interviews. It's not in stone, sweetheart. Are you listening to me? You, you, are my only in-stone priority." He swept a hand over the wisps of blond hair that were thickening without the usual formal tight cut most emergency personnel wore. Gregory liked the way it felt in his fingers. He braced Charlie against him, each wrapped into the other, letting the swirl of emotions fade from the room.
"Why do you think I'm trying to come to your rescue?" Gregory asked him gently several minutes later when the tension had dissipated between them and Charlie's fingers held and caressed him in languid answer.
"Because it's all you've done since we met," Charlie replied weakly, tucked as he was into Gregory's shoulder.
"No, I see it as supporting someone I care about. Sharing. The last person who needs to be rescued is you. You're incredible, don't you know that?"
"And love is blind."
"Quit being a dick," Gregory groused.
Charlie snickered and Gregory hid his smile against his hair, just thankful to hear it.
"Think about it, baby. If I take that job, I'll be at one of the state's best colleges. You'd have opportunities falling over themselves to entice you."
Charlie jerked up. "Whoa! That went from moving in to moving across the country." Eyes popped wide, blinking to do it again.
"Shh. Not happening tomorrow. Okay?" And not without you. But Gregory could tell Charlie had hit his limit.
A nudge on his leg pulled both of their attentions south. Samson stared up with baleful eyes and a short whine. Then he sneezed.
"Hairball, we have to work on your timing."
"Potty break?"
"Yeah." Gregory put a palm under Charlie's chin. "Stay?" He made no bones about meaning it.
Charlie studied him, worry and doubts still chasing each other over his features. Then he sighed, relenting. "I'll stay."
"I'll bring in your things when I come in. This is your house when you're here, living or otherwise." He pressed a finger to his lips when Charlie drew a breath. "Just nod. I'm tired and honestly, after Samson, I just want to fall into bed with you in my arms. You wouldn't withhold that from me, would you?"
Charlie tilted his head, considering. "No, I wouldn't, because I'd be depriving myself as well."
"Finally. I won an argument."
Charlie's eyebrows shot up, then he burst out laughing. Gregory stole a kiss, then, grabbing Samson's leash, let them both outside for the last potty break of the night.
Charlie groaned, walking into the kitchen the next morning. Greg had showered and dressed before he was done, and that was a good thing because he wasn't sure Greg would have even made it out of the bedroom if Charlie had seen him. "Did you have to wear those jeans?" His toes curled against the cool tile under his feet as his gaze raked over the man before him.
Greg turned from the counter where he was making coffee, two mugs waiting as the pot filled. "I thought you liked them?" A concerned sweep of his body had him spreading his arms and legs.
Charlie licked his lips, imagining the taste of just-showered skin. A bare chest and those jeans. The way the denim hugged his thighs. Curved obediently to hang just right on his hips. The sexy, rebel bad-boy hole in the knee. Liking was a little tame. "I do. Too much." Blood was thickening his cock as he stood there staring. He was willing to bet there was nothing under there either. One thing he'd discovered was that Greg relaxed at home by going commando.
Greg's gaze turned questioning, then the light bulb brightened as he smiled a little wickedly. "Ah, I see." Lashes dropped, lowering over sizzling brown eyes. "See something you like?" he asked huskily.
"Damn. You are insatiable."
"And that's a bad thing?" Greg shot right back.
Not in Charlie's book. But Greg might not want the same thing. So far Greg had been in control, and he loved it. Except Charlie wanted him, and with Greg standing there looking like a full smorgasbord offering, it was more than Charlie could take.
Shaking his head, he slid on bare feet to inch out of the room.
"Baby, come here." Greg whispered, the three words riding like fingers of delight down his spine.
Powerless against that throaty summons, Charlie reversed direction and neared, determined not to accost him---though he was all but dying to.
Greg settled his hands to the edge of the counter, the smell of fresh coffee filling the space around him. "If you want it, take it," he said, his chest rising and falling as intention became action. As though in punctuation, he drifted one hand down the center of his chest in offering, to fall to grip the counter once more.
"You're okay with it?" Charlie's fingers tightened on his cane. He wasn't technically leaning on it, but it was there because he wasn't sure he wouldn't need it to hold him up. Any second now.
Greg dropped his chin, searing him with a gaze that left little doubt to the meaning. "Baby, I want to make you happy, and if it feels that good for you?" His grin became sheer sultry deviltry. "I want it."
Greg's purred reply cascaded sparks into his bloodstream. "Oh, God," he breathed. Greg was a natural top, and before him, before the fire, Charlie would have said the same. It wasn't fair that the man could make him go weak in the knees.
"Tell me what you want."
Shivers sliced down Charlie's body. Free rein? "You're sure?" The tick of his pulse was loud in his ears.
As if to prove it, Greg popped the snap of his jeans free, then stopped. "Any part of me, baby."
Charlie couldn't withstand the temptation and glided forward until he stood in front of Greg. Leaning the cane against the cabinetry, he cupped Greg's head in light palms. "You are so sexy." Greg's chest shuddered as a jagged breath slipped free. Then he kissed those lips, Greg's mouth welcoming and warm.
With slow hands, he trailed teasing fingertips up from Greg's wrists, dragging blunt nails over the sensitive skin on the inside of his elbows and upward. Feeling Greg shiver under his touch encouraged him. The dance of Greg's tongue played alongside his, stroking and licking. Smooth skin heated under his palms, where he splayed them wide across his shoulders to sink to form to his chest.
Charlie sucked on his tongue and Greg moaned. Letting him go, Greg tipped upward, panting gently, and Charlie took full advantage of his arched throat, licking and sucking. Pressing into his braced length, the hard ridge of Greg's cock rubbed against his, covered in thin sweats for comfort. The friction elicited a growled moan from both men.
Lowering a hand, Charlie cupped the pulsating heat behind Greg's zipper. He trembled like a leaf in a hard wind, sending Charlie's heart thundering against his ribs. When he glanced up, Greg's gaze burned like a summer wildfire.
"So hard." He squeezed and Greg inhaled a sharp breath.
"You planning on foreplaying me to death?"
"No topping from the bottom," Charlie chastised him.
Greg huffed. "I'm not even sure I know what that means."
Charlie ran his tongue over a dancing Adam's apple. "It means I'm in charge."
"Does it mean you're going to do something soon?" he asked breathlessly.
"Soon? Yes. I plan on having you scream like a bitch for me."
"Promises, promises," Greg taunted.
Charlie removed his hand and allowed a millimeter or two between them. "What was that?" An arched eyebrow punctuated his question.
Brown lashes swept up, revealing wide eyes, pleading eyes. "Sonofabitch," Greg replied. "Don't stop now." There was a hint of panic in his tone.
Charlie's laugh bubbled up, knowing and powerful. It felt good to be in control again. Leaning forward, he scraped over Greg's tanned chest with his teeth; his head snapped on his neck and his shoulders clenched in answer. Gentle claws raked down the front of his body to snag in the waist of the loosened jeans. The zipper fell without a fight. Greg remained braced against the counter.
It had been a long time since Charlie had kitchen or counter sex. Nothing this spontaneous, that was for sure. And Greg offering himself so wonderfully was a treat to savor. The man was delicious, taut and still summer-tanned. His stomach jumped when Charlie's fingers flicked over the creases of his abdominal muscles.
Lowering the jeans, he pushed them down. "Get rid of them." Greg did, kicking them free and across the tile. Charlie's lips twitched. "Not shy either, are you?" His throbbing length bobbed, then settled, stiff and proud, thrusting upward toward his stomach from his groin.
"Should I be?"
"With anyone but me," he replied instantly, then shook himself as the statement registered. The pulse in Greg's neck thudded noticeably.
"Don't stop," Greg whispered, centering Charlie once more, his gaze following him with an intensity that heated Charlie's blood.
"On the counter," Charlie commanded.
Greg framed his weight and heaved himself up. Charlie pushed and angled the man until he was situated the way he wanted him, half leaning with that delectable package just waiting for pleasure.
"Kinky," Greg murmured, his lips twitching. "No waffle marks, okay?"
Charlie didn't answer. Opening the refrigerator, he studied the innards, his gaze landing on a small bottle of syrup with delight. "Hm. Never would have guessed you for strawberry." He grasped the small bottle off the door, then let it swing shut.
"What are you---"
"Making my breakfast."
A heavy shudder rolled down Greg's body. "Seriously?"
"Completely." And to prove it, he flipped the top and turned it to its side to drip over Greg's veined cock.
Greg hissed. "Cold!" His body trembled in reaction. Charlie didn't stop, being sure to place a few well-landed drops on his balls.
Setting the bottle on the counter, he lowered himself between Greg's thighs. Greg's groan filled the kitchen with the first stroke of Charlie's tongue. Heat swamped him, drawing him tighter into Greg and his pleasure. He'd missed having this kind of closeness with a lover. Garen had played, at best, rarely. Greg seemed open and willing, at least if the sharp gasps and growls filling the kitchen meant anything.
Short curls tickled his lips as he bathed Greg's nuts clean, his hands keeping his shaking legs opened and still. He slouched against the wall and cabinets, slack and moaning beneath Charlie's mouth.
"Hasn't anyone ever introduced you to the fun of flavor?"
Swallowing rapidly, he shook his head, his eyes closed. "There's more?" he croaked.
Charlie thrilled at that response. That he was making Greg incapable of speaking blew his mind. And he hadn't even touched his cock yet.
"There's tons more," Charlie said. Urging Greg to wiggle that perfect ass forward, he positioned him until he was nearly flat on the counter, and completely uncaring of that fact. "Let me show you." Grasping the syrup bottle, he deftly dribbled a few drops to glide toward his ass.
"Still cold!"
Charlie chuckled but didn't stop. "Don't worry, babe. It's going to be very hot very soon."
"Oh, God." Greg whimpered.
Charlie blew a breath against quivering skin and Greg jumped, almost shrieking. Remembering Greg had never experienced anal play, he glanced up, seeking and finding a thunderstruck man in front of him. He lay on the counter, his eyes open, but definitely not aware. "If you're not ready, babe, just say so."
"More." It was a single gasped plea.
"You'll let me know if I need to stop?"
His head lolled in Charlie's direction to nod weakly. Catching his gaze for a heartbeat, Charlie saw nothing but trust and desire in his darkened eyes.
Breaking that magnetic gaze, Charlie resumed his place. The garbled sounds Greg made were wild and uninhibited. He released a slow breath, bathing the flushed skin, and Greg shot an arm upward, clawing into the cabinets.
"Hang on, babe," Charlie warned. Then he pressed his lips to Greg's skin and kissed. Greg jerked, but didn't push him away. Licking away the sweet drips drove Greg insane, panting and grunting, pushing toward Charlie for more.
With the sticky sweet strawberry flavor on his tongue, Charlie tapped at Greg's rosette. Greg's shout filled the house. Twisting to keep his balance on his leg, he roamed upward, sucking a hardened nut into his mouth. Damp and loose, he dared to slip half of his index finger into Greg's tight channel. Muscles clenched and bucked in answer.
"Unngh...Charlie...fuck, oh, shit!" Greg clawed at anything for purchase, rocking unsteadily into Charlie.
"Ready for more?" He licked his lips, his own cock throbbing to fill the ass in front of him. With a sharp nod, Charlie began to stroke Greg's tunnel while starting the cleanup on his cock. More sweetened Greg filled his mouth, swirling his tongue and lapping to get every drip, to touch every inch of a now very hard, very thick cock.
Strawberry mixed with precum oozing from the tip created a one-of-a-kind flavor. He moaned, swallowing as he salivated for more. Working fingers in and out, he sucked on Greg's dick. Bending the tips of his fingers, he ran over the bump of Greg's prostate. He jumped like he'd been electrocuted, groaning wildly. Bracing a foot on the counter, Greg arched his hips, filling Charlie's mouth with rapid strokes.
Devouring Greg's length, he slid to the end, licking him clean, to raise enough to gasp a few short breaths himself. He slid his fingers free, massaging him.
"Do you want me, Greg?" Fuck, please say yes.
Rocking his head, Charlie thought he was saying no, until he heard, "Do it. So close. So good." The rest was mumbled as Greg gulped for air.
"Condoms?"
"Jeans," was the gasped reply.
Charlie wasn't expecting that. "Prick. You were prepared?"
"Only for you, baby," Greg hoarsely uttered.
Seeking over his shoulder, he spotted the rumpled jeans. Stretching, he grasped them without losing his balance to quickly search the pockets. And lube? You're kidding me. Giving Greg a short-lived glare, he dropped them to the floor once more. Prepared or not, Greg had expected something. Flicking his gaze to the jeans, the same jeans that Greg knew turned Charlie inside out, he wondered if the whole thing had been a setup.
He smacked a thigh. "On your feet." Uncoordinated and choppy, Greg managed to do as told. "Turn around."
Greg studied him blearily over his shoulder for a few seconds. "Everything okay?"
"Fucking dandy," Charlie almost snarled.
"Charlie?" Greg's startled hesitation forced him to clear his thoughts. He shook his head, pushing his anger out of arm's reach. Even if it had been a ploy, this was still Greg's first time.
"It's okay, babe. Later. Get comfortable."
Watching him carefully, Greg finally did as asked, spinning slowly to bend at the waist. "Okay?"
"Yeah, babe. Perfect." Charlie ran a hand down his spine to cup his ass. "Your ass is amazing."
Greg shivered under his touch. Removing clothing quickly, he covered himself with the condom. Then he opened the mini tube of lube and coated his length, hissing as sensation roared over him. Wiping the excess onto Greg, he eased his stance apart to steady them both at the counter. "We'll go slow, babe."
Greg's head jerked in answer. He supported his head on bent arms, bowing his body to Charlie's commands.
Slowly, Charlie eased into his virgin channel. "Breathe for me, sexy. Relax." He sank deeper with each advance and withdrawal as muscles gave way, while ripples flowed up and down Greg's body in response to the pleasure of being taken.
"You with me, babe?" he asked, a little more tenderly, shuddering as heat enveloped his shaft.
"Amazing," was the gasped reply. "Never...like this."
"It's okay, babe. It only gets better."
"I'm not going to live," he murmured, moaning when Charlie flexed.
His legs trembled, but held steady. It had been a long time since he'd done this kind of a workout, and never with his damaged leg.
Gliding in and out with a slow stroke, Charlie clasped Greg's hips, holding him close. He shivered, his lip quivering when Greg's body twisted, seeking that perfect connection. A ragged moan ripped from him when Greg found it. "Not gonna last, babe. Wanted to."
Jagged gasps told him Greg was on the edge right there with him. Pressing forward, he reached around a smooth hip and found Greg's heavy shaft, thick and dewy with saliva and drips of moisture seeping from the engorged head. Heat filled his clasping palm and Greg mewled a breathless cry when he gripped him. Tremors shook his leg as he pounded forward, but he refused to quit, not this close. Their rhythm was hard, wild, then Greg's spine jerked and he shot, shaking uncontrollably. The air in Charlie's lungs vanished as heat and pressure swept him under.
"Oh, fuck! Greg!" The force of his orgasm made his world dim; the only things he was aware of were the heat holding him and the thrusts he made as he filled the condom.
Sucking air like a hot air balloon, he gradually felt life return to his limbs. He blinked, leaning heavily on Greg's damp back, his legs tired, though thankfully holding. His hand was sticky with cum, while his lips and chin were sticky with syrup. He closed his eyes and honestly didn't care.
Running a towel over his damp hair after another morning shower, Charlie sat on the edge of the freshly-made bed, watching Greg as he tugged on clean jeans, and not the 'Come and fuck me, wildman' jeans, either.
"Why did you have the condom and lube?"
Greg blinked, stuttering as he straightened. Lashes covered his gaze, avoiding looking in his general direction. He finished easing jeans over his hips, then tugged the zipper closed. Glancing toward Charlie, he asked, "Was that what upset you earlier?" He still didn't bother with a shirt, but what did that matter, really? Charlie liked looking at Greg. He kept the house warm enough anyway. Charlie was sure it was very comfortable during the summer, feeling the sea breeze blowing in off the gulf. It was him who couldn't seem to find a warm medium in life.
Greg sat on the bed with him, unbending a stiff arm to twine their fingers together.
"It did make you mad."
Charlie couldn't look him in the eye.
"Why?"
"Because I felt like I'd been set up." Used. No wonder Greg was so pissed the morning he'd stormed out. Charlie understood it clearly now.
"Baby," Greg breathed. He tugged the towel away and urged Charlie to look at him, cupping his cheek. "It wasn't a setup. More wishful thinking for me." Greg lowered his eyes, embarrassment darkening his face a shade or two. "The truth is, I didn't know how to ask you to do what you did," he said very quietly. "I've honestly been prepared for the last few days, in case opportunity..." He cleared his throat, following as he rubbed a thumb over Charlie's hand as if it were the most entrancing thing of his day. "I knew we'd behave at your parents', but...um. If you would've tried, I'd have been ready."
"Are you serious?"
That red hue deepened considerably. "I've wanted to see if I'd like it, been imagining it. I know it's stupid---"
Charlie covered Greg's mouth with his free hand. "Shh. That it isn't. Not everyone can switch."
Greg's lashes flickered, then he resumed his attentive study of their entwined hands.
Charlie remembered his confusion about the topping comment too. Realization wasn't hard to reach. "You know what it is to be gay, but you honestly don't know how, do you?"
Stiffly, he shook his head.
"Greg." Charlie sighed. Understanding what he'd done, it wasn't hard to forgive. Charlie slipped an arm around him, and this time, Greg nuzzled in against Charlie's neck. "So long as you're comfortable, and I'm comfortable, then we can make it work." He couldn't believe he just said that, but he couldn't take it back either. He ignored the flicker of fear that swerved down his spine.
"You're not mad?"
"Not now." He rubbed his chin over Greg's head. "Just...don't be worried about things like that. You can talk to me, ask questions."
Greg sighed and pressed tender kisses to the side of Charlie's neck. "I love you."
Charlie shivered at the soft brush of his lips and the heat of his breath, holding him tighter.
But he couldn't say what he knew Greg needed to hear.
"I got it!"
Greg lifted his eyes from his computer screen, a smile stretching over his lips. "Yeehaw! So now what?"
Charlie sat on the couch, the box resting on his lap. "First..." He eyed the box. "I have to figure out the magic way of getting into it."
Greg chuckled lightly at his puzzled expression. It was pretty heavily taped. Pawing through pens and junk in his desk, he grasped what he wanted. "This should do it." Standing from his chair, he then strode over to sit next to Charlie.
Charlie had driven home to check on the small rental, grab a few fresh things and see if the brace had been dropped off. By the gleam of excitement in his eyes, that was the surprise in his lap. He handed over the box blade. "Let's see it."
Green eyes lit up and he snatched the blade, locked it and tore into the seams.
Seconds later, with the sound of packing tape snapping where it hung on for dear life, he tore the edges apart. Inside were inflated plastic packing bubbles.
"You know, they say to recycle these, but how? Leave them inflated? And where?" Charlie held one up almost the length of his forearm. "But you pop them and they're useless."
"One of those mysteries of the world," Greg teased. "Come on. You're getting distracted." He was just as excited as Charlie. He wanted Charlie to have his confidence again, to see himself as whole. The brace would help him get there.
"Right." Charlie tossed the bubble on the couch on the other side. Samson strolled up and sniffed at the bubble, the box, then at Charlie, who gave him an absent pet on the noggin. With all the plastic packing bubbles out of the way, he lifted the black framed brace into his hand. "Wow. It's big."
"Does it go above or below what you're wearing?"
"Either, but I think I'd feel better with it under."
"Okay."
He stood from the couch, then slid his leg out of the sweats he wore. Greg moved the box out of the way to let him sit again and let Charlie maneuver and finagle the brace where he needed it on his leg.
"How does it feel?"
Charlie looked at it, twisting his leg. "About how they said it would. The PT said if it begins to rub, to get one of those elastic joint sleeves for under it, just large enough to cover, not to be tight."
"Makes sense."
Charlie snugged down the brace, then slipped his leg back into his sweats, wiggling his foot at the other end. He drew a steadying breath. "Here goes."
With his palms planted on the edge of the couch, he pushed himself up.
And for the first time in almost two years, stood square, without the cane.
"You can't even tell," Greg told him solemnly. Charlie was a sight to behold. His eyes shone, his shoulders strong and straight. There wasn't a shadow of the man who'd been wounded emotionally or injured physically.
Charlie swallowed. "Time to test it."
"Strut your stuff, sexy."
Charlie laughed, but it was a nervous laugh. Greg had to blink, knowing he shouldn't be this emotional, but fuck it. This was Charlie.
And he was walking.
Meeting his glowing gaze, he reached his feet from the couch, waiting for Charlie to make the circuit around the living room and come back to him, each step solid and true. Greg waited in front of him. Charlie's eyes literally sparkled, lit with pride and an overwhelming amount of happiness that stole Greg's breath away. If he'd met the man before him that first time, he probably would have fallen on sight for him, he was that incredible.
Greg swallowed thickly. "Well?"
Charlie's face was flushed.
"I'm walking, Greg," he whispered, then his lips trembled. Greg was there with his arms around him in an instant. Charlie gripped him in a crushing embrace, his hands fisting the back of his shirt. Charlie clutched him, burying his face into Greg's solid shoulder. Hard sobs shook them both. Greg held him, and loved him more.
Unfortunately, that night was when things started to just go wrong, in all quarters. A cold rain hit the coast with whipping winds, making Samson clingy and not happy. Power was hit or miss for the first twenty minutes until it couldn't take the punishment and vanished.
Which left little for either Gregory or Charlie to do except to huddle under a blanket chest to chest on the couch in the dark and watch the shadows for entertainment.
"Too bad I don't have a fireplace. This weather would be perfect for one," Gregory mused. With Charlie nestled under his chin, they lay entwined enjoying the quiet and each other's body heat. Forty degrees was still forty degrees, regardless of the longitude.
"Let me guess," Charlie said, his lips brushing lightly over Gregory's skin enough to send tingles down his body. "You're a hopeless romantic."
Gregory guffawed. "I wouldn't quite say hopeless."
Charlie shook his head, then settled into his spot, cushioned on Gregory's upper arm. "Romantic," he breathed, laughing to himself.
Gregory didn't rise to the bait. A jingle began to echo from his hip pocket. "Crud. Just like someone to know I'm not in the mood to move." Gregory lurched, Charlie clinging to the back of the couch in order not to roll off in the interim as he dug out his phone. Once it was in his palm, he groaned. "It's Mom." Charlie kissed the underside of his chin and nestled into his spot.
"Hello, Mom."
"Oh, good! So you are answering your phone."
Whoa! He stiffened at his tone. "Dad, what's wrong?" The power must have knocked out his landline if he was calling on the cell. Charlie caught it right away that something was wrong. His arms grew tense around Gregory's chest where he was wrapped around him.
"What the hell is this about you being gay?"
"Shit." The word slipped out on a hiss. His stomach tried to shrivel up and hide behind his spleen.
"Is it true?"
Gregory shivered. Crap, that's one mother of a cold tone. He should've known at some point his secret was going to get blown sky-high. He tapped Charlie to sit up. He couldn't talk to his dad, not sensibly, while lying down. He reached out a hand, though, keeping Charlie close.
"Dad, I'm sorry."
Silence hit the air, the phone making that eerie 'are you there' echo in his ear.
"How long?"
He slumped against the couch. "In all reality, less than three months."
"Are you serious? You just suddenly became gay? And you were waiting this long to tell me?"
Snide disbelief made his heart ache. He'd had no idea his dad would take it this hard. Or think he'd been lying about it all this time. "I don't know, Dad. I'm still working through it."
"I can't believe you told your mother not to tell me."
Oh, yeah, that's Dad, pissed. He rubbed a hand down his face, then quickly captured Charlie's when it looked like he was trying to inch away to give him space. He didn't want space. He wanted to be smothered in Charlie at the moment.
"I asked her to let me tell you, when I come home again. That was all." He drew a breath. "I felt you should hear it from me, and meet the reason why, if possible," he added, dejected. He knew better now. That wasn't happening. "You don't have a problem with my friends," Gregory tried.
"Because they're not you, son." A disgusted, weary sigh came over the phone. "I need to think about this, Gregory." A shiver hit his shoulders and kept going. That should have been a median, a this-way or that-way over the fence. Gregory wasn't sure his father was going to lean in his favor. His heart thudded painfully. "I'll have your mother call you." Click.
He blinked, bringing the phone numbly to his lap. God, that sounded...final.
"Brimstone?" Charlie asked, rubbing his thigh.
"And pitchforks."
"I'm sorry, babe."
He leaned over and pressed his forehead to Charlie's. "Don't. There is no way to make it easy, on any of them." He wondered how Jay would greet him. With a hug or with a fist? He stifled the sigh. Not much he could do about any of it. "Stay tonight?" he asked quietly.
Charlie's answer was a slow, soft kiss. Gregory never assumed one way or the other, since Charlie still hadn't made it an official choice to move in, but he stayed over frequently, and tonight Gregory desperately needed his comfort. At least he'd had this long, though to actually tell him in person first may not have been any better an experience for either of them. Maybe by the time they left for LAX his dad will have calmed down. Maybe he won't still be furious with him. Maybe it won't feel like he'd failed everyone. Maybe.
Gregory could hope.
"Why don't we go to bed?" Charlie asked, sipping tender kisses to his face. The stunned hurt on Greg's face made his chest ache for him.
Greg nodded absently. "Samson..."
Charlie wrapped his hand up. "It's okay, babe. I'll take care of him. Go take a hot shower and relax. There should be some heat left in the water." He groped around the floor for the flashlight Greg had found when the lights went out. "At least the worst of the rain has stopped." He plopped the flashlight into Greg's hands. Worried, he gazed into his lover's face when he remained unmoving. "Greg?" he whispered.
The hollow pain in those brown eyes tore through him. There was a hint of fear swirling in there too. The fear of the unknown, of what was coming, of his family's reaction---the rest of his family. Charlie understood all too well. In the duskiness of nighttime with only the world outside the windows providing even an inkling of light, the shadows in his eyes were almost as deep as the ones flitting through the living room with them.
As though moving by remote, Greg finally stood with a hollow grace and left Charlie in the living room with a not-quite-so-whiny Samson. At least he'd settled now that the thunder and lightning had passed.
Unfurling from the couch, he walked to the counter to gather the leash. "Samson," he called quietly. The dog came over and sat obediently. With his leash attached, Charlie grabbed for his jacket and slipped his arms inside. Bundled and ready for the breezy damp and cold, he led the dog outside. It felt incredibly odd walking without the attached extension of his cane in his hand, like he was forgetting something, while learning he could trust the brace and his leg. He'd begun to wear jeans instead of sweats more frequently. Begun to feel like himself in almost every way, and with Greg's support, knew he could be himself no matter what.
Tipping his head against the cold, he also recognized Greg's love for him. At times, he felt so enveloped by it, he never wanted to leave, and then he would feel a twinge, or move the wrong way and his back or his shoulder would take the brunt of some stupid movement and he would be reminded that he would never be complete, never be whole.
Being himself was one thing. Being whole was something else altogether. He feared nearly as constantly Greg would realize just how imperfect he was. It was coming. It was the largest reason he hadn't agreed to move in yet, though the New Year had come and gone. They'd stayed at home and watched the celebratory shows on TV, ate popcorn and made a ginger-ale toast followed by a night of loving that had left them both sleeping late the next morning. Greg didn't even try to buy champagne for their at-home celebrations, and didn't seem at all put out that he made that concession for Charlie. Again, another shortcoming that would grow old fast, but Charlie couldn't do it. Alcohol, even the smell of it, turned his stomach.
Samson stopped and added to the water on the ground. Charlie tucked his hands into his pockets. It sucked that he had a low tolerance for cold. He wouldn't be outside for long.
A brilliant flash over the water in the distance caught his attention. Nature was incredible, beautiful, eerie at times. The coal black clouds hanging over the water just beyond the remaining homes looked like thick plumes of smoke, roiling and tossing as the storm took its fury over the water. Not all that surprising it was dark everywhere he looked, he guessed, after the walloping the storm had delivered. At least where he could see, there weren't any downed lines or tree damage. That inevitably only elongated their powerless state.
Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed he'd walked farther than he'd planned without paying attention. It just seemed worse because the streetlights were out and there were no welcoming lights from any of the homes. A chill caused by more than the cold of the damp air struck his frame.
"Come on, Samson. Time to go in. Greg should be done in the shower, if he didn't sink down the drain, anyway," he teased, rolling his lips to warm them.
He shook his head, and water droplets sprang free, the mist and light rain finding him and clinging. Samson shied from something on the side of the road and tugged on the leash at the same time Charlie was off balance, and wrenched him hard on his leg.
Almost like a slow motion comedy of errors, he collapsed to the ground, crying out. Trying to catch himself, he twisted further, but his toes snagged on the sidewalk and pain erupted up his body from his ankle through his knee to his hip and beyond. A muffled sob broke the night as his leg seized on him in retaliation. Hunched on the ground, agony and tearing pain roped his muscles into iron cords of torture. He didn't even feel the wet as his jeans became soaked on the rain-drenched ground, or the chill that bit at him with unforgiving teeth.
Gregory finished in the shower and dressed in his underwear, waiting for sounds of Charlie's return. When the snuffle of a wet nose and the click of nails at the front door reached him, he turned on the flashlight and opened it for them.
He only found Samson, his leash trailing behind a wet, rain-dampened body.
"Where's Charlie?" He braced himself to lean forward through the door, but swinging the flashlight back and forth, found no one in the front yard. "Inside." He unhooked the leash and pitched it toward the kitchen, not caring if it reached or not, then spun and jogged for the bedroom to throw on something to go outside in.
Wearing jeans and his windbreaker, he toed into his sneakers and flew out the front door, flashlight in hand. "Charlie?" His heart pounded. Something had happened. He knew it. Samson was better trained than that to bolt, and he listened to both himself and Charlie. He called again. Nothing.
Taking a chance, he went away from the beach, toward the other houses on the street, but spotted nothing. The town had gone to bed, as far as he could tell. Swallowing, he swung around on a heel and sprinted in the other direction.
After about fifteen minutes, he spotted him. Down. Huddled on the ground. Clutching his leg.
"Oh, God," he choked out. He collapsed to his knees in the wet grass at his side. "Charlie? Baby, talk to me."
Shivers rocked his frame and pain so intense, Gregory felt it coming off him in waves. This was worse than what he'd walked in on those months ago. He wasn't just holding his leg, he was reaching for his shin too.
"Baby, what's hurt?"
"Ankle. Leg." He gasped, shuddering. Then probably the best thing that could have happened, did. He passed out.
Gregory called nine-one-one. It was the only thing he could think to do. If he'd hurt something, it was going to take more than a hot bath to fix.
He sidled around to prop Charlie's head on his lap to get him off the wet ground, then waited until the ambulance arrived. Charlie roused when they strapped him to the gurney for the trip.
"Greg?"
"I'm here. I'm following. It's okay."
Charlie's eyes went blank, then they closed. He didn't speak again. It took Greg a few precious minutes to get home, lock up and rev his Jeep to life to trail after the ambulance. The worst imaginable thoughts and worries crowded themselves into the vehicle with him, making it the hardest drive of his life.
But if he thought his life was being tossed on its ear, things only got worse once he arrived at the hospital.
"What do you mean, no visitors?" He gulped for air, having ran from the parking lot for the glass doors with no other thought than to get to Charlie.
The ER nurse gave him a flat no-nonsense stare. "The patient requested it. He is allowed to do that."
"But..."
"Are you family?" she inquired with a snooty undertone, probably thinking he'd done something to put Charlie there. Gregory didn't give a shit what she thought. He had to see Charlie.
Gregory's gaze bored into hers. "Please," he whispered.
"Are you family?"
He couldn't even claim to be a fiancé. "No." His hands felt clammy clutched at his sides, and the wet mud on his jeans was starting to cake up. He knew he looked like a disheveled disaster, but damn it! This was Charlie.
And no one in the hospital was going to get Gregory in to see him.
"You don't understand," he tried again. "He's my best friend. I need to know he's all right. Please?"
The nurse sighed, all put upon. "Fine. I'll see if I can get one of the doctors to inform you."
"Thank you," he managed, feeling weak. He trudged to the farthest set of seats away from anyone and propped his face in his hands. His phone rang. Great. Now what? He tugged it from his pocket.
"What?"
"Well, if that isn't the greeting of a lifetime." Laurence's voice was miffed.
"Sorry, Laurence. Hi."
"What's wrong?"
Gregory gave him the run-down, starting with the phone call from his father to his current lack of knowledge about the man who mattered the most to him while he waited in the ER seats.
"Wow. Sweetie, come stay with us. Let them have some time to get over the shock."
"I can't do that," he replied automatically, not wanting to impose. Hell, they were days from making it all official.
"Bullshit. When you get here, call me or RJ. Josh will probably still be at work. And don't worry about Charlie, Gregory. It'll all work out."
Gregory wished he could say the same. That last look Charlie had given him struck him like a blow to the throat. He hadn't allowed himself to think about it. It terrified him too much. The hospital's interior doors swished open.
"Doctor. Call you back." And he hung up, rising to his feet in a rush.
A man in a white coat approached. "Gregory Anders?" The doctor offered to shake his hand and he noted the name of B. Blakeny on his badge.
"Yes. How is Charlie?"
"He's physically fine. He sprained his ankle and pulled the damaged outer tendon, which is what likely caused the seizure, but nothing major."
"Can I see him?"
The doctor's expression turned apologetic. "I'm sorry. He requested to be left alone."
Gregory raked his hands through his hair, unmindful of the dried dirt and dampness. Why was Charlie keeping him away? What was with the hollow look from the gurney? And why did he suddenly have a chilling feeling everything was rapidly drawing to an end? His hands dropped. "Wait. You said physically. Is something else wrong?" Dr. Blakeny looked away. "Please, Doctor. He means everything to me."
The reply was even, almost too automatic. "I can't give that kind of information out. I'm sorry."
"I can't see him, at all?"
"I'm sorry."
"Christ, you must say that an awful lot," he growled.
"Unfortunately." With a final appraising look, he left Gregory standing in the waiting room.
Somehow, he found himself sitting in his Jeep, staring off into space, lost, and for the first time afraid of what losing someone could do to him. He glanced in the direction of the lit windows, the hospital not affected by the power issues on the island, and wondered just what was running through his lover's mind, because right at that moment he wasn't sure if he wanted to kick his ass for them, or hold him close and comfort him.
He tugged his phone from his pocket. Gritting his teeth, he searched his numbers. "Won't see me, asshole. Let's see you keep your family away."
He hit speed dial and began calling.
Charlie rolled over in bed to face the window, his eyes unfocused. His cane and brace both waited for him on a chair nearby. He'd touched neither since coming home.
Except he didn't have the guts to go home to Greg, or even for himself. He was at his parents' in Houston. Hiding. He winced, remembering the disappointment in his sister's voice.
And he thought he'd been having it rough. She'd been unemployed since Christmas, not that he would know. She'd never said a word, not even to their mother, until after the beginning of the year. He vaguely remembered her talking about things going on at the offices before Thanksgiving, but hadn't thought about it since. His sister was putting up a much braver front than he was.
She was looking for work, moving, living.
He was wallowing in bed, heartbroken, heartsick and almost as emotionally empty as when he'd learned of Garen's duplicity and the senseless attack on his life.
Except he'd brought this on himself. He'd pushed Greg away. And Elizabeth made sure he didn't forget it was his own mistake every time she saw him.
Which was why he was hiding in his room while hiding from the world. His sister was a primal bitch.
The phone rang in the house, and someone answered it. There was a standing order---no calls from Greg. Not that he didn't try. He did. Constantly. Little messages that he was waiting, thinking of Charlie, that he missed him, and that he wanted to work through this.
That he still loved him.
Charlie's immediate question was, how? He couldn't even walk the damn dog without falling apart. Didn't Greg understand that? Didn't he see? He burrowed his face into his pillow, sucking in arid draughts of air, trying to alleviate the heavy burn in his chest. It did nothing to help.
A tap on his door sounded. "Charlie?"
"I'm awake," he answered his mother, fighting to hide the turmoil, to keep it out of his voice. "It was Greg, wasn't it?"
"It was. He wanted to let you know he was leaving for California in the morning. A wedding he's going to," she offered.
He pushed deeper into the bed. Greg's friends. He knew all about them, the wedding, and that he wasn't going. "I know."
"He wanted to let you know two things."
Charlie shrugged.
"The ticket you have is still good. He won't change it."
When she paused for several heartbeats, he lifted enough from the bed to see her out of the corner of his eye. She stared at him, and he wasn't sure what he found in her gaze, but it wasn't the understanding maternal love he'd been comforted with up until then. "What is the second?"
"He's not coming back."
Charlie winced, hiding the grunt of pain, curling up on himself. "I knew it would end this way," he muttered emotionlessly. What else had he expected? He knew Gregory would see the truth.
Then why the fuck did it hurt so damn much if he'd been preparing for this moment all along?
"You're a spoiled child, Charles Baker." He closed his eyes, shutting away the outside world. It didn't keep him from hearing her condemning voice, though. "You're making it end this way, not him. You've left him no choice but to go on. If you talked to him once, you'd hear it in his voice how much that man misses you, how much he loves you. He's taking the research position. He said if you want to know the reasons, then come to California. And personally, I agree with him."
The pound of his heart was a hollow thud that only emphasized his own pain and loneliness. "I can't," he whispered.
Except no one answered him. His mother had already left.
What did it matter? He was really leaving. It was over. His gaze swept the room and when he locked on the brace, remembering in a scrolling view in his mind all they'd done, he snarled and twisted the other way, closing his eyes to the memories.
Gregory claimed Samson in the baggage area, then waited, sitting on a bench, talking to a hyped-up canine. He sure was getting some wonderful travel experience. This would probably be it for him, though. If Greg went back to Texas, his travel-wise pup wouldn't have to go, and with modern technology, he wasn't even needed to be present to sell his house. That saddened him further. He'd loved that house. Loved the beach. Inside, he trembled, though none of it showed on his face. He put his fingers on the grid cage door and Samson licked them, as though understanding his melancholy.
He barely shifted when a man in tight black jeans and a maroon jacket sat at his side. "So you're really staying?" RJ asked.
"Yeah. I can't stay there. It hurts too much." It was why he came ahead of schedule. He just couldn't stay in the same bed, in the same house. It killed him a little each day.
RJ brought him into a one-armed hug. "It's okay, man. We'll be miserable together."
"Why?" After a pat on the back, Gregory let him go.
RJ shrugged, though even through his own pain, Gregory could tell his was still fresh and deep. "Didn't you hear? Toby dumped me." RJ's smile was weak.
"Are you serious?" No, Gregory guessed he hadn't heard. He'd been rather wrapped up with his own misery of late. "God, I hope we're not contagious. Laurence will skin us alive."
RJ chuckled ruefully. "No worries. He and Josh are about to kill each other again. The wedding is driving them both at each other's throats."
The bear and tiger return. "Ah. Just like old times."
"Pretty much." RJ stood and rolled a shoulder, gathering up the carry-on at Gregory's side. "Come on. I'm parked out in the lot."
Dutifully toting luggage, a pet carrier and a broken heart, Gregory followed him.
Once settled at RJ's condo, he called home; the answer on the other end wasn't as warm as he'd hoped, but about what he'd expected.
His father still wasn't talking to him. While his mother was trying to be supportive, she couldn't be the mediator between the two men. Gregory understood, and didn't ask her to. Jay was remaining neutral until he spoke to Gregory face-to-face. He supposed he could respect his brother for that, and was grateful.
But it did nothing to ease the ache in his heart, the one hole that was large enough to cruise a tanker through. A pain that only one person could cure, and as of yet, was a country unheard from.
The only other phone call he needed to make was to the Superintendent of Deans for the research position, then he was done until they contacted him to get the ball rolling to start the red tape interviews and background checks.
He just wished he could be happier about being home among his friends and with family again. He feared that would be a long time in coming.
Gregory walked to the living room of RJ's condo. Samson was asleep in a sunbeam, sprawled on the carpet like a dog without a care. Gregory envied him that. The phone he held in his hand rang on the other end, half a continent away, but it might as well have been Mars.
"Hello."
"Hi, Elizabeth."
"Hi, hon," she replied, immediately warm and kindhearted.
"Has he changed his mind?" Gregory sat in an armchair, leaning over his knees, his fingers pressed into and rubbing his forehead. He had no idea why he kept trying when the faintest hope that he would just talk to him was fading. He understood what the problem was, but if Charlie wouldn't talk to him about it, he couldn't tell him how wrong he was.
"I'm sorry," she replied.
"Don't be. He's the pigheaded one. Look, do you have a pen handy?"
"Yep."
"Take this down. If by some miracle he gets his head on straight..." He sighed. "I just want him to know I'm here." He gave addresses and phone numbers.
"Got it. Greg? I know he cares."
"I wish I was as sure," he muttered. Charlie had never once said one syllable about his own feelings. He wiped a hand over his mouth. "He hasn't talked to me since the accident. I don't want to quit trying, I love him---"
"Greg," she interrupted him firmly to drop to a conspirator's whisper. "Don't give up on him. I think I know how to get him off his ass."
He paused, hearing the evil plotting in her voice. "He's listening, isn't he?" He was nearly as quiet as she was, even though there wasn't a need.
She hummed an affirmative. "Really?" she chirped, making Greg wonder what she was doing. "What was his name? Oh, he sounds awesome."
"Liz, don't do that to him," he asked, his head shaking. "Not after Garen---" His pleas fell on deaf ears.
"Black hair, green eyes, Greek. Wow. They have those in California?" she teased.
"Elizabeth."
The sound of a slammed door was impossible to miss as it echoed through the phone on her end.
"And stage one is complete," she chortled.
"You are truly evil."
"Never doubt the genius of a woman."
Gregory sniggered. "Never. So now what?"
"Just don't give up on him. I'll find a way to get him on that plane."
"You do, and I'll owe you huge."
This time, when she laughed, it was sheer joy. "Just make him happy, Greg. And love him."
"I do, hon. I do."
He hung up the phone, terrified to hope.
Charlie snarled when Elizabeth just walked into the bedroom, uncaring that the door had obviously been closed in a Do Not Disturb manner. She hunkered down on the edge of the bed with an obvious intent to stay. "You are such an ass. Do you have any idea how many women would give everything to have a man like him?"
Charlie rolled over, giving his sister a view of his back. "Go away."
"No. We've walked on eggshells long enough around you. We've played interference long enough. It's time you acted like the man that dick you were born with proves you to be."
"Classy." He tucked his hands under the pillow. "He doesn't want me back. He's found someone else."
"And how do you feel about that?"
"Shut up, Dr. Phil."
She smacked his ass. Hard. He yelped. "No, you shut up. I knew you were listening, you coward."
He gritted his teeth. He wasn't a coward. "I said---"
"He doesn't have anyone else," she said, cutting him off. "I wanted to prove something, and I did. You still care. If you didn't, what he does from here on out wouldn't matter at all to you. Admit it. You love him."
"Elizabeth." He growled low in his throat. His hands were fisting, and he was having to force himself to relax them.
"He calls every day to ask about you, to want to talk to you. How is that a man who doesn't care?"
"Being gay is a phase for him."
"Now that's an out and out self-delusional lie, and you should be ashamed of yourself. What if he does find someone? What if some guy sweeps him off his feet while you're in here acting like the Lord Supreme Ass?"
Greg wouldn't. He'd sweep his new love off their feet. Like he did with me.
Elizabeth stood. "If he calls again, because even I can tell when a man is at the end of his hope rope, if he calls, you're answering the phone. I quit."
He thought she left, but she hadn't. She wasn't finished with him yet.
"Or you could get off your sorry ass, fly to California and actually talk to him, oh, I don't know, like a grown man."
"Piss off," he mumbled.
"He loves you, Charlie. Don't waste that. Getting it once is a chance so few ever really get. Getting it twice is a miracle." Then he knew she left because he heard her feet leave the room, hopefully with the rest of his meddling sister attached.
"Come on! We're going to be late. With the mood Laurence has been in this week, I do not want to have him bitching at me. He might actually cause violent physical damage." RJ tapped his foot. Gregory combed his hair, then dropped the comb on the sink.
"Okay. Okay. Samson?" He adjusted his suit jacket. In the last seventy-two hours, he'd actually been roped into helping. He should've seen it coming, yet was actually glad he had something to occupy his mind and time. Thinking about who he'd left behind was all he'd done since leaving Texas nearly two weeks before.
"He's fine. Toys and rawhides everywhere."
Gregory couldn't think of anything else. "Let's go."
RJ tossed his hands in the air, clear exasperated impatience in his tone. "Finally. And I thought I was the mirror hog in this family."
"You are," Gregory retorted. RJ glowered at him.
Together, they drove to the hotel where the ceremony and reception were being held. When they arrived, people were being seated to witness the event---the ceremony, or the tiger and bear in a throwdown. Either could happen.
"So what do I do?"
RJ pushed him forward into the room with a hand on his elbow. "Just help anyone who looks lost, or talks to you. There's no real sides to this one, unless it becomes a ring match."
"Great," Gregory muttered. But it wasn't long before he was helping people understand what was happening, find seats, or find people they were supposed to meet. When it got to be almost time, and only stragglers were arriving, he stood near the doorway, taking in his first real glimpse of the layout.
There wasn't an arch, podium or anything like that in the front of the gathering. Gregory was kind of surprised as his gaze flowed over the backs of heads. There had to be over a hundred people there, and many of them he knew. The hall was bright with light music playing over the system, nothing too romantic, but calming. That was probably RJ's doing. As an event planner, he was an expert at setting the mood for anything, except he rarely did weddings. He hated dealing with overdramatic brides, which was probably why he'd been avoiding Laurence's wrath. That man in a full snit was downright frightening. To give RJ credit, the hall was professional plain in beiges and creams, with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling giving it a nice touch of class.
There were Grecian vases along the wall with tall, dried flower arrangements, a little elegance that didn't detract. Off to the side was the three-tier cake, as well as two long tables filled with caterer serving pans, all of it ready as soon as they rearranged the room afterward for the crowd in attendance in support of the two knuckleheads.
RJ and Laurence did a wonderful job. Gregory had to give them that. It looked like a simple, elegant celebration, not an overdone, overbaked grandiose affair.
A light tap on his elbow brought his attention to his side. A weak smile lifted his mouth and some of his spirits. "Hi, Mom." He leaned to get a kiss. "Glad to see you here." She had styled her hair, wearing a pale yellow pantsuit that seemed to make her glow.
She gave him air kisses in answer. She always joked her lipstick wasn't his shade. "Are you kidding? For these two the San Andreas Fault quakes in fear. They need to do this."
Gregory couldn't help but agree, seeing the humor glinting in her brown eyes. "No Dad?" He glanced beyond her, but guessed he already knew the answer.
"No, but he might show up for the reception."
Gregory sighed. It was better than nothing. Until he'd come out to him, he'd held no ill will against his friends. He wanted to get past it because he knew he couldn't give up his best friends, and prayed along the way he could bridge the gap he'd created.
He offered an arm. "Let me find you a seat." She looped her fingers over his arm. Gallantly, he helped her get comfortable. Standing by the wall, it was only a few minutes later before the music changed and a man holding a bible took a place facing outward from the other end of the aisle.
It wasn't the Wedding March, which would have only pissed off Laurence. It was an instrumental ballad, one of their favorite songs. He swallowed thickly. Damn, RJ. He knew how to do this right. Gregory even remembered the night this song played back to. Ah, the memories. For the first time since leaving Texas, he was truly glad to be home.
Standing still, his hands clutched before him, he watched as they walked hand in hand through the doorway, up the aisle to the preacher now waiting for them.
"Good luck, guys," he whispered under his breath as he followed them with his gaze. Then he fell silent to listen.
When it was time, they each offered a shiny white gold band and even managed to---nearly---make their wedded kiss PG. Nearly. It made him laugh when Laurence reached and grabbed a little more sugar as Josh straightened.
For just a moment, a second really, he allowed himself to picture Charlie with him doing that. What was once foreign wasn't any longer. What was once misunderstood no longer left him questioning.
The only problem?
There was no Charlie.
When they turned and faced the crowd, he applauded as loud as the rest of the crowd, swallowing the loneliness and the ache that came with it. Maybe in time he'd figure out what to do with himself, now that it seemed Charlie really was done with him.
It wasn't for lack of trying. He'd called every day. Gregory had almost camped out on their front yard, but nothing had worked. But what they said was true. You couldn't take a horse to water and make him drink, and you couldn't make a heart love you if it wasn't meant to be.
It just amazed him on so many levels how much he'd changed since that morning jog in November. He wasn't disappointed or disgusted, just accepting. Gregory knew he couldn't go back to what was. Late at night he'd tested it, picturing every beautiful woman on the planet he could think of, and came up cold and unmoved.
But two seconds of Charlie's voice, his green eyes, and he was sprouting, hard. He did his best not to let it happen right then, since his mind had been circling the other man for days on end, wanting.
Moving chairs, he helped to clear areas for the coming tables, not letting his mind work over it too hard or too in-depth. Someone began rolling out the tables, and with a few extra hands, they were prepared and places were set for people to sit and enjoy the reception. There was even a little dance floor that he hadn't seen in another corner of the room. He wondered how long it would take for Laurence to convince Josh to do their first dance. He shook his head, still expecting the cage match to break out at any minute. But so far, they seemed to be relaxed and Laurence was beaming, both dressed to kill in their tuxes. Maybe they finally had hit their stride.
The music changed again, and Gregory spotted RJ on his cell phone, looking to be searching the crowd, smiling at him as he passed over, then continued his conversation, walking away.
Once everything was in order, he stood at the edge surveying the changes and nodded, happy that they'd completed the transformation with little fuss and in a short amount of time. The tablecloths looked balanced and since the food was a buffet line, they didn't need to place anything at the tables for the guests.
A tug on his elbow was RJ. "Help me pour punch."
He followed obediently, smiling and chatting with guests as the line flowed by. Once the last was seated, RJ stretched. "Our turn. I'm starving. Hope they left us something."
"So how long are they staying? And how long before the peons get to leave?" Gregory asked once he and RJ had found a pair of empty chairs. He tugged on his collar, wishing he could ditch the tie. Maybe after the cake.
RJ pushed his chicken around, glancing up in the newlyweds' direction, then shrugging in dismissal. "They're not taking a honeymoon for themselves, so I'm sure they're going to hang out and party." RJ peeked at him, saying, "And why? You in a hurry to get home?" He popped a bite into his mouth. "Samson will be fine until we get home."
Gregory studied his meal. "No." All he'd do was moon for someone who didn't want him. He couldn't think of one relationship that had left him this broken. Not anyone in school or after, not even Rachel, and she'd really hurt him. He was past hurt. He was hitting numb.
RJ gave him a gentle nudge. "Relax. It's all paid for, and you don't have to be anywhere. Ask your mom to dance."
"That sounds so lame," he joked.
"Yeah, but she'd love you for it. Besides, you have to dance with her first before we can ask. A rule of friendship."
Gregory's laugh was quiet. "You're sick, RJ."
"Nah. Just not wanting to worry about it today, y'know?"
Gregory glanced his way, spotting the cloud as it flitted over his gaze before he hid himself from scrutiny. "Toby?"
RJ sighed. "Yeah." He tapped his plate with his fork. "I thought we were closer than that, then right after the New Year, it's sayonara baby." He shook himself. "Ignore me. I know I can do better."
Gregory put a hand on RJ's shoulder. "Trust me, Randy, if anyone understands, I do." He gave him a gentle squeeze. "Go ahead and eat. There's cake after this."
RJ took another bite. A few minutes later, he said without warning, "If I was the teeniest bit attracted to you, I'd try. You're an awesome friend, too good-looking to not know it, yet you really don't, and unfortunately, already in love with someone."
That took Gregory by surprise. "Really? But until..." Gregory dragged, having a hard time saying his name for some reason. "I mean, I wasn't gay, or at least not aware I was."
RJ snorted, holding his napkin up. "I know. You could've knocked us all over that night when you talked about him. I don't think any of us even suspected until then. We love you anyway."
"Thanks." They jostled shoulders and finished eating.
Unfortunately, RJ was more right than he could guess. He was very much in love with Charlie.
So where did that leave him?
The knot in his stomach returned. He honestly didn't know.
Gregory laughed as loud as any of the guests as they all enjoyed watching the two lovebirds try to feed each other cake, Laurence winning in a landslide for smear points. He was sure Josh would be picking icing out of his hair all night.
Several of the tables were broken down and the music was replaced by a DJ. The lights were dimmed and the food was removed.
Laurence, with Josh in tow, weaved his way to the DJ stand. With the mic in hand, he jubilantly stated, "Thank you, everyone, for sharing this with us. This has been one of the most unforgettable days of my life, for the both of us. But now it's time to get our groove on!" Someone hollered in the rear of the group and a round of laughter and catcalls filled the hall. A smile a mile wide split his features, color and excitement turning his cheeks a warm red. "Exactly! I know it's not open bar, but the lovely lady has set up and is now filling orders. Enjoy the rest of your night!" He handed over the microphone, and tugged Josh out to the dance floor, wrapping his hands around him with Josh looking embarrassed but too happy to stop as he linked his arms around Laurence. "Okay, Bobby. Hit it."
The first song of the night was the love ballad that had been their wedding song.
Following them as they danced utterly oblivious to the world beyond themselves, whispering and grinning like loons, Gregory felt like he'd been kicked in the chest, but somehow managed to keep it from showing on his face.
"So how long are you going to sit here looking like you've lost everything?"
Gregory shrugged. "Want to dance? RJ says I need to before they're free to ask you."
Mickie laughed. "Is that what he said?"
"I knew he was pulling my leg."
She tapped his arm. "Dance with me, boy. It'll give me time to convince you to quit walking around with your tail between your legs."
"Sheesh. Mom!" he groaned. He stood and offered her a hand before she started divulging diaper tales to the others surrounding them. That was all he needed. "Fine. But if they ask, I've done my son-mother duty."
Once they were on the dance floor, swaying with the other couples, Josh and Laurence included, she went for the kill.
"You need to fight for him, honey."
"Already tried, and it didn't work."
She shook her head at him. "Gregory. I've never seen you like this. If you love him as much as I think you do, then nothing should stop you."
"Except you're forgetting one thing, Mom," he pointed out quietly.
She arched an eyebrow.
"He has to want to love me back." He dropped a kiss to her forehead. "I'll be okay." Someday. "Thank you for understanding though, I know it's been hard on Dad."
"We love you, Gregory, no matter what. You're a wonderful person. Give your father time. He's not closed-minded."
He didn't say what came to his tongue. It may not matter. Instead, he danced with his mom, appreciating her unconditional love.
Charlie swallowed with an audible gulp sitting in the car, knowing he was gaping. "Wow. They're holding it here?" He gazed up, taking in the swanky beachside hotel with granite walls, etched designs in the cement and driveway, and polished gold accents from the drop lane to beyond the front doors. He was sure it was the same inside. The engraved, frosted emblem on the doors shouted the hotel's lineage. Only those who could afford it came here.
"They've been saving," Greg's dad, Ian, replied evenly from the driver's seat. "I think they wanted to throw a big party rather than do a honeymoon. Knowing Laurence, I wouldn't be surprised." He put the car in park. "Just ask for the Toliver reception at the desk. I'll be in after I park."
He turned to face the other man. "Thank you, Mr. Anders. For this, for listening, understanding..."
Greg's dad cleared his throat. "Later, Charlie."
He nodded, accepting that this favor was, in reality, being done with a grain of salt. Picking Charlie up at the airport after he'd made a last-minute flight change to the ticket to be there at all. Driving him to the reception, which Ian hadn't exactly planned on attending. Charlie's bag was in the trunk. He owed RJ and Ian everything if he could win Greg back.
When a valet opened the side door, he twisted to get out.
"Leave the cane, Charlie."
Charlie jerked to a halt. He hadn't even realized he'd gripped it. Taking a fortifying breath, he set it on the floorboard. "If I need it?"
"If," he replied with a meaningful undertone. "It'll be here."
With his heart pounding, Charlie slid from the car to let the valet close the door after him. He heard as Ian drove away. His only hope of abortion.
Not happening. He'd come this far. The only reason he'd be leaving now would be if he were to leave alone, and even then it would only be to regroup.
Time for doubts was over.
It took very little to get the information he needed to find the reception room, and as he got closer, he was sure he'd found them. Music and laughter bounced into the hallway through the partially opened doors. By the noise level, it had to be one rockin' party. His steps slowed automatically. It had been a long time since he'd been with a crowd.
Wiping clammy hands on his jeans, he determinedly marched forward.
This stopped being about him the minute he put the brace back on.
With a hand on the door, he nudged it open and slipped inside, slinking along a wall to get his bearings. His gaze swept around the room. He couldn't believe how many people there were. The guests were a broad mix, but it made Charlie stumble at the number of male paired couples. He guessed Greg hadn't been kidding. He did have an eclectic mix of friends. He'd never find Greg in all of these people, though. Suits and dresses, jeans and designer tuxes. There was no symmetry. And somehow that made it more real.
Then he spotted him being dragged out of a chair by a couple of guys to the dance floor, one lithe and blond, the other closer to Greg in build but with dark black hair. He didn't know who they were and he really didn't care. Charlie only had eyes for Greg. He looked incredible after not seeing him for weeks. A black suit, pressed slacks, and it looked like he'd worn a tie that at some point had been lost. He was smiling and laughing at something the guys were telling him and the pleasure on his face made Charlie's chest ache. That should be him making him laugh. Then they started dancing to the music.
Unprepared for the wash of possessive anger that struck, he watched as the dark-haired guy slunk with the finesse of a pole dancer next to Greg, wrapping himself around his lean frame. He tossed his honey-blond head and laughed, bumping the flirt back with a sexy grind.
"Oh, hell no," Charlie muttered. He pushed off the wall without a clue of what he was going to say after not speaking for three weeks. The only thing he knew without a doubt was that Greg was his.
Cutting a path through the crowd, deaf to the noise and music, he reached Greg's side. In one move, he pushed Slutty away, grabbed Greg's face in both hands and planted one on him.
Greg's first reaction was to fight him off, then their eyes met and he froze.
So did Charlie.
Panting, he slowly released Greg. And then remembered he had no idea what he was going to say. He wasn't even sure how long he stood there staring into his eyes before his brain kicked into gear and finally gave his mouth something to do, aside from kissing him.
"Can we talk?"
Greg's mouth dropped. "Now? Now?"
Charlie didn't let go, firmly saying, "Yes. Now."
"I say just kiss him again."
Charlie swung to the speaker, finding a smug look on Slutty's face. "What is it to you?"
"Dude, be nice to RJ," Greg growled, which was heard over the loud thump of the music blaring around them. A small circle of dancers on the floor had created a space, but most only glanced their way or ignored them completely, having too much fun to worry over a small conversation.
Charlie blinked, realization making his face heat. He owed this man half his soul at the moment. "Shit! I almost decked you for tramping all over him."
RJ shrugged. "Had to do something to get you unpinned from the wall, grasshopper."
Charlie's head sank forward to a solid chest, thankful that Greg didn't shove him away. He felt the rise and fall of his breathing and the slight thud of his heart beneath his clothing. God, he felt so good.
"Wait. What?" Greg snapped, rightfully confused, glaring hard at everyone, Charlie included when he locked onto the most amazing brown eyes.
"Can we talk now?" Charlie tried again, stroking Greg's cheeks with his thumbs. "Please?" he added quietly.
"Here." RJ shoved a cardkey into Greg's hands, jostling Charlie. "Go."
"Fine. I'll be back."
"We'll understand if you aren't!" someone shouted, laughter following them as Greg whirled and stomped out of the melee. He only went as far as the hallway though, which was fine. At least Charlie could hear himself think.
Once alone, Charlie ate him up with his eyes, feasting on everything from the length of his blond hair to the curve of his jaw, all the way down his chest and hips to even enjoy the solid stance of his legs.
"I'm an idiot," he muttered, not really for Greg, more to chastise himself, but when the man glowering at him crossed his arms and gave Charlie the "Yeah. And?" look, he knew Greg had heard him clearly.
Not quite able to meet Greg's eyes, he said, "I guess starting with an apology would be a good place." He drew a breath. "I'm beyond sorry. I'm a stupid moron."
"Why, Charlie?"
He jerked, blinking at the man before him. "Why am I a moron?" He stumbled, unsure of where to even begin that explanation, because he had plenty of reasons.
Greg barely acknowledged Charlie's confusion with a flicker of his gaze. "Why did you do it? Why did you keep me away?"
He dragged a palm over his head. His heart was beating like a tom-tom mallet into his ribs. He had to make this right. Charlie started with the truth. "Because I was scared, okay?" His chest heaved as his lungs argued whether or not they wanted to work properly. "Because what happened that night could happen at any time." Quieter, he added, "Because I didn't think I was good enough for someone like you."
"Someone like me?" he parroted. Brown eyes gentled, losing the hardness that had greeted Charlie, but he didn't relax.
"Christ, Greg. You're perfect. I'm an insurance claim waiting to happen."
He rolled his eyes. "Shut up. You know that's not true."
Charlie smirked, hooking a thumb in his jeans pocket. "Which part? The idolization of perfection or being a wreck?"
Greg finally began to relax, his shoulders losing the tense edge he'd stood frozen in for the last several minutes. "Both." He almost grinned, then his focus shot over Charlie's shoulder. "Dad?"
Charlie twisted and spotted Ian approaching.
"I see you found him, Charlie."
Greg's arms slid limp to his sides, his mouth gaping. "Dad?" he repeated, unsure.
Ian neared Greg. "We'll talk later. I think this is more important." He didn't add more to it, but left them in the hallway to enter the party.
Greg gaped, following after his dad with a dazed expression. He whipped around. "Can you explain that?"
"Some. Can we go somewhere else? I'd like to sit down for a few minutes."
"Oh, shit! I didn't even realize... Where is your cane?" Greg closed the gap between them, almost chest to chest. His fingers fleetingly danced down Charlie's arm, but didn't do more.
"In the car. I'm fine, but I tend to tire my left leg trying to overcompensate for the right. I'll get the hang of it." It was the way his body had adjusted to using the cane. He knew it would pass, but after the day he'd had, he was starting to feel the strain.
Greg fished in his jacket pocket and brought out the plastic cardkey. Staring for a few seconds, he nodded. "Come on." Together, they made their way to the elevators and he tapped the button. "How long have you been here?"
"In California? About two hours." He glanced away. "I came right from the airport. Your dad picked me up."
"My dad?"
Charlie heard the disbelief and confusion, knowing after talking to Ian that this was still sensitive ground between himself and his son. "We had a chance to talk on the drive." The doors glided open and they entered the empty cabin. Greg chose the floor number and they were enclosed in silver, reflective silence. "I owed you the apology, but I also owed your father a reason to believe that what happened...that what is happening between us, is real. He needed to know to understand. I hoped my viewpoint could help explain some of it."
Charlie knew only too well the shock that came with that kind of an announcement, worse for Greg since it happened for him much later and no one saw it coming. Least of all, himself.
Greg faced him in the private space. "And?" he asked more gently.
Charlie's shoulders rose, then fell. "I told him I was head over heels in love with his son, that I'd been an ass and needed to fix it." Charlie met his appraising stare, bearing everything he felt in his gaze. "I want to fix it, Greg."
The floor alarm dinged, cutting through the building tension zapping between the two men inside the lavish space.
At least he hasn't stormed off or said no fucking way. Charlie would take it and run with it.
Elegant gray carpet with green diamond-cut accents covered the hallway where they exited the elevator. A moment or two later, Greg stopped at a nearly black stained door and slipped the key in the door's card reader. The access light went green and an audible click sounded, the door popping open a fraction.
Charlie waited for Greg's next move.
Gregory pushed the door in, letting Charlie go into the room first. He was still trying to catch up, debating if he needed to wake from a dream or not. He wondered if this was the stage after numbness. Delusion.
Charlie was there. His dad had spoken to him for the first time in weeks, and his dad had brought Charlie to him.
Gregory was waiting for the punch line. Or for the rug to be pulled out from under his feet.
Charlie eased himself into one of the leather tailored chairs in the suite's front room. "I can't decide what I hate more, sitting or standing. My ass hates sitting and my leg bitches about standing."
Gregory glanced at him, finding rued annoyance. "Have you soaked it lately?"
Charlie's eyes lifted swiftly to lock on him, as though surprised by the thoughtfulness of the concern. "Not in a few days."
Gregory tugged over the chair's mate and sank down. "How did you get here?" He wasn't ready to jump back into the thick of things. He needed some promises from Charlie first. There was still the residual shock and the doubts that Charlie was staying. So he sat without touching, and as hard as it was, without kissing him, though he really wanted to. That shocker on the dance floor had kicked his heart into his ribs, and it felt like it might still be there.
Charlie leaned back, stretching his lean length out to relax. "I called RJ's last night, begging for a chance to explain myself, only to find out you'd gone out to grab burgers. I knew it wasn't enough to do it over the phone, so I convinced RJ I was flying out today. I called when I landed, and he had your father come pick me up. The rest began when I saw RJ trying to slide down you like a fireman's pole, and I lost it."
"You called last night?" Gregory stiffened. "RJ never said one word." Before he could leave to find RJ to clobber him, Charlie continued.
"I didn't think he would. He wasn't exactly thrilled to talk to me when he learned it was me looking for you." Charlie tapped his lips with steepled fingers, his hands clasped over his chest. "I know I hurt you, Greg," he said without avoiding his eyes. "RJ was protecting you. It was a matter of proving myself, and as Elizabeth said, acting like the man my dick says I am. I came to try to win you back."
Gregory raked his teeth over his lower lip. Warmth was reaching the coldest niches of his soul, chasing away the dark loneliness that had been haunting him since the night Charlie had crowbarred him out of his life. "What happens if you do?"
"Then I guess I better start looking for work, professor, because I'm not leaving," he replied in total seriousness.
"You're moving here? Staying?" Gregory's heart dared to trip as hopefulness rose.
Need began to blaze in green eyes, dark and mysterious, and focused entirely on Gregory.
"Let me put it this way. If you still love me, still want me, then anywhere you go." Charlie waited. Tension ratcheted up a few notches, when he asked, "Do you?" The only sign of his doubts, that Gregory would deny him.
Gregory stood and offered him a hand, tugging him from the chair right into his arms with a steady pull.
Charlie moaned under his breath as their chests pressed together. His arms wound around Gregory holding on. "God, you feel good." Charlie's breath heated the side of Gregory's neck.
"Is your family okay with your decisions?" Gregory asked, trying to eliminate any possibility that Charlie wasn't telling the truth.
"One hundred percent."
"Did you mean it?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, hungry with needing to know, and still fearing he was dreaming everything.
Charlie leaned enough to meet his gaze, green pools as wide and as deep as emeralds framed in golden blond lashes. His lips parted and Gregory managed not to groan. The man had a mouth that was the beginning of every wildly erotic dream he could ever have.
"That I love you?" Charlie asked, his voice lower, breathless, and so sexy, Gregory's knees shook. "With every beat of my heart."
"What if something happens and you fall? Charlie, I love you. I can't live through you doing this to me again." He stroked his side, the usual sweater gliding beneath his touch, savoring the heat of skin under his palm.
His smile was tender, understanding, and most of all---accepting. "I guess I'll have to learn to be more gracious when you pick me up off the ground."
"You know you're not less than perfect because of that," Gregory assured him. "I have never seen any of your injuries as shortcomings with you."
Charlie's cheeks warmed with what could only be embarrassment. He laid his head on Gregory's shoulder, just sharing space and strength. "I know that too. Now. If it weren't for you, there's a good chance I'd still be on the beach, with no thoughts of ever walking normally again. Not believing I ever could."
Gregory swallowed to not let the lump in his throat choke him. "Baby, you would have. I believe that." He held on a little tighter, simply because he could.
After a few minutes, Charlie asked, "So now what? Want to go back to the party?"
"Not really," he admitted. "But I don't want to take whoever's room this is, either."
Thoughtful curiosity warmed Charlie's face. "Call RJ. See whose it is. I have a funny feeling he snuck one over on us. He had the cardkey handy, if you think about it."
It took a few seconds for Gregory to understand, but when it dawned on him, he laughed. "He wouldn't."
"If he's your friend... Need I say more?"
"Good point." He let Charlie go just enough to reach into his pants for his phone. It only took a few seconds to find the man. "RJ?"
"Yes, daaarhling."
Gregory groaned. "Are you drunk?"
"Not quite yet. Working on it."
He chuckled at the tipsy playfulness coming across the line. "You're staying here, right? No driving."
"No driving. I promise."
That was good. "Whose room is this?"
RJ burst out laughing. "Why? Did you find the present?"
"Huh?" Present?
"Whoops! It's yours. Well, yours and handsome man there with you."
"You got us a room?"
"Why are you talking to me? Did he piss you off?"
Gregory heard him bristling on the other end.
"No. We made up."
A mix of emotions was heard in RJ's voice when he said, "That's wah-wonderful. I'm glad for you. In that case, goodbye! Oh, I'll have his bags sent up." Silence. Not even the noise of the party.
"Well?"
"It's ours," he explained dumbfounded, staring at the phone in his hand. "And he said something about a present." That was really as much as he got out before Charlie slid down his frame to rest on his knees in front of him. "Charlie?" Nimble fingers were undoing the slim black belt in his trousers and within seconds had his pants split wide with his not-quite-flaccid cock in Charlie's waiting hand.
"God, I missed you," he breathed just before engulfing him in the sweet heat that was Charlie's mouth.
Gregory hissed, bucking hard as Charlie sucked him. "Shit! Baby...oh...uh..." From there it degenerated to unintelligible noises and grunts. His eyes slammed shut and he shoved a hand into Charlie's hair to keep himself from swaying too hard. Ecstasy drove into him like a lightning strike. After so long without, the pull and stroke of a wicked tongue over his quickly hardening length was better than any electrical shock to his system, than the warmest sunrise and finest wine combined.
A chirp from his hand brought his attention to the fact that he still clutched his phone. Maneuvering as little as possible, he tucked it into a pants pocket just in time to watch them fall to around his ankles. It also gave him an unencumbered view of Charlie's magic mouth gliding up and down his cock.
He gulped a breath watching those now-flushed pink lips riding him, bobbing up, then down the full length. "That is such a turn-on." Charlie hummed in answer and the vibration tickled his balls. His knees trembled. "Gotta sit, baby," he warned him, panting.
Charlie let him go with a soft pop. With guiding hands, he pushed Gregory a step or two, then let him sink down to the chair he'd been in earlier. Before returning to the blowjob that was stealing Gregory's sanity, he quickly divested him of his pants, shoes and socks. Gregory went ahead and peeled the jacket free and tugged his dress shirt off, sending it all somewhere. His tie was flotsam downstairs and forgotten.
The absolute adoration and affection in Charlie's expression sent his heart into a wild race, pouring heat into his blood.
"You're incredible, babe."
"Come here," Gregory invited with a hand to him. Charlie glided up his length, blanketing him until Gregory could find his mouth. Thrusting, he claimed that treat, hearing and feeling Charlie's pleasured moan throughout his body as tongues met and dueled. Inching his hands under the sweater, he urged Charlie to make room to pull it over his head. Then it was gone and they were pressed naked chest to naked chest.
"Aww, fuck," Charlie gasped, rubbing them together. "Love this." His panting breaths sent shots of lust over Gregory's skin.
"Stand up."
Braced on the arms of the chair, Charlie did, allowing Gregory enough space to strip his jeans. He peered upward, his hands poised at trim hips. "Is your leg okay, baby?"
"I'm fine," he whispered, sharp gasps proving his excitement as Gregory touched him, relearning his body as he slid denim off his legs. The brace seemed to be allowing him a full range of motion while supporting his weight. Trusting Charlie to tell him if anything wasn't right, he continued undressing him. Gregory dropped his jeans all the way to the floor and Charlie kicked them free, toeing off his sneakers at the same time.
Instead of letting Charlie return to his own hard cock, Gregory leaned forward, propping Charlie's hands on his shoulders. "My turn," he managed, hoarse with need. Gregory swept the spongy tip with the flat of his tongue and listened as Charlie came unglued.
"Mm. Yes. Damn." Charlie groaned.
"Love the way you taste." Then Gregory did it again. Charlie's cock thrust up at him, demanding more, and he gave it, enveloping him between his lips, sucking on the head. Shudders rocked Charlie's body. Clenching tight fingers around his hips, he slowly pistoned him in and out of his mouth.
"God, yes. Let me fuck that mouth," Charlie rasped.
Gregory paused, his lips and breath raking over him as he spoke. "You love that, don't you? Your cock fucking my mouth?"
"Feels so damned good," he answered, thrusting to show he wanted more.
"I'm going to make you shatter, baby," he warned him, then before Charlie could answer, he opened wide and swallowed Charlie's shaft to the root, fine hairs tickling his lips. The groan Gregory received in answer coursed shivers down his spine. That's it, baby. Fuck me.
Sucking with precision, he urged Charlie's hips into a rhythm. When he reached the base, he opened enough to lick and tease him with his tongue, gliding over the heavy veins, feeling them pulse in answer, then ride him to the flared head and do it again. Charlie began swearing under his breath and Gregory knew he was close.
"Fuck, Greg. Gonna make me shoot." Fingernails dug like claws into his shoulders, holding on as Gregory drove him to the brink, and held him there. "Greg!" Charlie's body shook under his hands, the urge to come pulsing through him so hard, Gregory felt it.
Almost counting the ticks like the timer on a bomb, Gregory waited, feeling Charlie's body wind tighter and tighter, his voice growing hoarser and his thrusts growing more desperate. The veins riding over his lips beat with a rhythm all their own.
"Fuck, Greg! Please!" His words grew to mumbles and Gregory took him deep, breathing out, then flexed his throat over the head of Charlie's cock.
That was the trigger.
"Arrrggh! Greg!" His shaft thickened, the first jets splashing against the back of his throat. Swallowing as fast as Charlie's orgasm filled him, he reveled in the taste, the heat, and the gasps of weakening pleasure coming from his lover. He loved doing that for Charlie, melting him to the core.
Sucking in gentle pulls, he milked Charlie's softening cock until he shivered, too sensitive for even that light pressure.
"Fuck, Greg. I love it when you make a point."
He grinned, licking the final drops clean from his lips, hearing both of their panting. Charlie bent in half, resting his cheek on Gregory's head as he caught his breath.
"Come on, sexy. Let's go find the bed before you fall over."
Shakily, Charlie stood, holding onto Gregory with an unsteady hand. "Oh, man. The room is spinning."
"I got you." He wrapped an arm around Charlie's waist when he stood at his side, holding him close, and he was just as sure, keeping him on his feet.
"Forever?" Charlie asked quietly, his head on Gregory's shoulder.
"Do you want to make it forever, permanently?" he returned, serious.
Charlie gazed at him, those green eyes open and bottomless. "Whenever you want, Gregory. I'm not leaving or letting you go again."
Gregory's heart thudded like a twenty-one gun salute into his ribs, happiness almost too strong to control making him feel weak. "I love you."
"Love you, too," Charlie sighed. "Come on. Mushy stuff later. Horny sex now."
Gregory laughed. "You're right. Priorities."
Charlie nodded smugly. "Damn straight."
"What is that?" Charlie asked, stopping at the same time Greg did as they entered the suite's bedroom.
"That looks like a gift." His eyes narrowed in confusion, then he said, "RJ. What did he do?"
"Should we douse it in water first?" Charlie eyed the beribboned and bow-topped hat-sized midnight blue box with caution. Silver edging on the ribbon made the box sparkle.
"If this had gone any other way, I'd say yes, but now he's just stumped me."
"Who is it for?"
Greg looked at him and smiled. "Honestly, I think it's for the both of us."
"Your friends are insane," Charlie said through a smile. "I think I'm going to love them."
Greg's shoulders shook as he laughed. Charlie had missed that laugh. He sighed, hugging him closer.
Sitting on the bed, Greg tugged Charlie down with him, lifting a leg to prop over one of his. He really wasn't an 'on the lap' kind of cuddler, but that worked fine with Charlie. He wasn't one to want it.
He pulled the box closer and settled it on his lap. "Well?"
"Go ahead," Greg said with a wave of a hand and the other on Charlie's back, stroking up and down in languid sweeps. Charlie knew he was just slowing things down to enjoy the coming moments more. If the hard-on staring at him was any indication, Greg was far from finished.
Charlie tugged the lid off the top of the box and dropped it to the bed. One glance inside and he burst out laughing.
Oh, he was so going to love Greg's friends.
"What's so funny?"
Gasping for air, Charlie held up a finger, keeping Greg from peeking with a shoulder in his way.
"First, your friends rock. Second, they had high hopes for us. Third, they think at least one of us is a sex maniac."
The first thing he held up was a gargantuan bottle of lube. Greg's eyes shot wide.
Then he pulled out not just one, but three boxes of condoms. Ribbed, flavored and he wasn't sure, but he thought the last said neon. He was laughing too hard to really focus on it.
"This feels more like a gag gift," Greg said, trying to look professor-serious, and failing miserably.
"I think they're officially hazing you into the 'club'," Charlie said with a wicked grin. "But wait, they're not done."
"There's more?" Eyebrows arched high, giving him a startled-worried look.
"Lots." And this was the one that made Charlie burst out laughing the most. He drew out a four-pack collection of flavored body oils. He couldn't wait to put those to use.
"Are you serious?" Greg's face turned pink.
"Oh, the ways to use these," he teased. "And last, but not least, violá! One black silk mask. I guess the accompanying cuffs, scarves and assorted leathers are left up to us." Charlie managed to hold his straight face for a total of three seconds before he was hit with raucous laughter again. He wrapped an arm over his stomach as his body shook harder, breathing becoming a challenge.
"Oh, my God. I'm going to kill them." If there was an ounce of real anger in his deepening laughter, Charlie couldn't find it.
"Nah, you won't," Charlie purred when he caught his breath, pushing Greg over onto the bed, their gift scattered around them. He let the now empty box drop to the floor. Hovering over Greg on his palms, he was able to look down at his face. "You're going to ask them where they hell they shop because we're going next time!"
Greg's eyes went as wide as windows. "Are you serious?"
"Hell, yeah! Those oils won't last forever."
Greg tossed an arm over his eyes, his chest rising and falling in jagged waves as he laughed quietly. "You're insane, Charlie." Greg moved his arm and threaded his fingers up into his hair, cupping him in the palm of his hand. "And I can't even begin to tell you how much I love that about you."
Charlie went more than willingly when Greg encouraged him to come close, their mouths barely meeting. Warm air flowed between them, panted breaths reigniting the desire they'd let cool to a waiting ember. The kiss was slow, like they had all the time in the world. Greg's lips moved beneath his, meeting and retreating. Leisurely kisses reawakened their mutual need in slow surges. Fingers danced and kneaded, nails trailed and teased. Low sighs and deep moans filled the quiet of the room.
Capturing Greg's hands, he pinned his arms to the sides of his head. Brown eyes sizzled behind half-closed lids. Charlie nipped at his jaw, laving a trail from his chin across his throat to suckle on the smooth skin beneath his ear. Greg's chest rose and fell in harsher gasps.
Painting a path with kisses, Charlie flowed over his collarbone to dance over his chest. Riding to the edge of his ribs, he licked the soft meeting of his shoulder and armpit. Greg moaned like an old tree in a hard wind.
Pausing, Charlie watched as shivers rolled over his chest. Really? He did it again and Greg's hips lifted, grinding for friction into Charlie. "Hot spot?" he asked.
Greg licked his lips. Hoarse gasps were his answers.
Pleased with the discovery, he traveled across his chest, suckling to leave love bites in his wake. When he reached the other side, he repeated the sensations to the tender flesh of his inner shoulder.
"Ohh." Greg groaned and rocked harder, fighting the hold Charlie had on his wrists. His hands unfurled and fisted repeatedly. The hardness of his shaft dug into Charlie's hip with a demanding heat.
"Good?"
"Fuck," he gasped, his head tossing from side to side. "Intense."
"So if I did this..." He nipped with his teeth, tugging gently.
Greg gasped, tightening from shoulder to knee. "Shit!"
"Mm. Hot spot. Definitely," Charlie murmured with delight.
Panting, Greg calmed trapped under his weight. "Fuck me," he gasped. "Never felt that."
Charlie nuzzled close, feeling as a legion of shivers struck Greg's frame. "I love that."
Gliding down his torso, Charlie licked over Greg's ribs, nibbling and sucking at hollows. He slid over his hips, straddling Greg. He grunted when their cocks rubbed together, sparks shooting up Charlie's spine. Silk and steel, their combined heat scorched him.
"I want to ride you," he breathed, rolling his hips. Friction whirled shocks outward, a hiss of need slipping from between his teeth.
"Anything," Greg answered, nearly grunting. He clasped the bedding in shaking fists, his gaze burning holes through Charlie.
Not bothering to ask twice, he glided over Greg's legs, kneeling next to him. Thankful for his friends' foresight, he reached for the lube and began stretching himself.
"Is that hard to do?"
Charlie focused, noticing Greg's attention was on his actions. He shook his head, his lashes dropping. "Feels incredible."
Greg bit on his bottom lip, staring.
"Next time, babe. Need you fucking me now," he growled.
A shaking breath lifted Greg's chest.
Within moments, Charlie was scrambling to rip open a condom and cover Greg's rigid dick. Soon, he'd bring up the blood tests. He wanted Greg's undivided devotion. Right now, he wanted his entire cock filling him.
A slow hiss broke from Greg as he seated the condom, then slicked him with the slippery lube.
He swung a leg over his lap, and for the first time felt the pressure on his thigh. Come on body, hold up just a little longer. With a palm on the hard chest beneath him for balance, he guided Greg's thick cock to his hole. "Easy, babe," he breathed, seeing the concentration on his lover's face.
Greg nodded, relaxing, letting Charlie do the work.
He gasped, then groaned as his weight took him down. "Fuck. Yes, so big," he panted. Charlie felt the weight of Greg's hands on his thighs, coaxing and petting. Grunts filled his throat.
A shiver stole over him and he relaxed, clenching and breathing as pleasure eclipsed the burn. "Ready, babe?" he asked, hoarse.
Greg nodded, breathing deeply.
Holding on with clawed fingertips dragging over Greg's chest, he rocked his hips.
"Beautiful."
Charlie blinked and gazed dazedly down at Greg. Passion-filled eyes watched him, traveling from head to groin as he moved, fucking Greg's thick cock.
When the unexpected tightness of a hand on his own shaft registered, he shouted out, bucking.
"Greg," he whimpered, riding up and down the pole in his ass harder and harder.
"Do it, baby. Sexiest damn thing," he moaned.
Charlie fell into the moment, the slick slide as Greg filled him, gliding against his channel and the pistoning of his dick.
Then Greg shifted, or clenched, but he did something and Charlie nearly screamed in pleasure as the head of his cock bumped over his prostate.
"Oh, God." Greg's hand grew hotter and his shaft thickened. "So good, Charlie."
Palms flat on Greg's chest gave him leverage. "Make me come, Greg." He ground harder and faster. "Want to feel you come."
Grunts were echoed by bounces of Greg's hips, sliding harder and deeper. Charlie's balls tightened, each slap sending electric shocks up his spine to explode at his nape.
Greg's neck arched and his frame stiffened, jets erupting unexpectedly. His shaft thickened, filling Charlie's channel to the hilt, sending his own orgasm ripping through him on a lightning bolt. Heat engulfed him inside and out, spurts shooting white over Greg's hand as his balls squeezed out every last drop.
Gasping, he collapsed forward to a heated and damp chest no longer able to stay up or hold his own weight.
"Unbelievable," Greg croaked. Tremors coursed over them both, little twitches that ricocheted small explosions of sensation between them until both were breathing near normally. With Greg's help, they rolled over and a few moments later he was able to separate them, holding the condom to dispose of in the restroom.
With a damp towel, he cleaned Charlie's chest. Tossing the towel the way of the box and gift remnants---somewhere on the floor---Greg tugged him until he could manage enough energy to roll off the blankets to get them both under the bedding.
At some point, a knock at the door roused them to get Greg out of bed. "Dad sent your bag up."
Charlie nodded, bleary and exhausted. "Okay." Greg wrapped an arm under Charlie and settled him right under his chin, the best place in the world as far as he was concerned.
"There was a note, too."
Charlie mumbled, waiting for the message details.
"They want us to come to dinner tomorrow at the house."
Charlie blinked. "Oh?" He adjusted, focusing blearily on Greg. "Is that good?"
"I think it's very good. I want them both to meet you, baby." Greg swept a hand over Charlie's chin, cradling him as he snuggled in close again. "They're going to love you."
Charlie sighed, sinking into Greg's affection. Yeah, it had taken some time, and more than his fair share of mistakes, but he was where he belonged, with whom he belonged. He knew there'd still be some rocky times, some bumps in the road to work over. The next weeks and months alone would be a trial for them to find their footing. Greg's family and friends, moving them both. So much to do.
His thoughts grew fuzzy as sleep sucked him into the abyss of nothing. The only thing that he knew for a fact was he was where he was supposed to be. Not in Houston, not on the beach and not wallowing in the self-doubt and pity that had colored his life for so many long months.
This time, he knew he got it right. And for the first time since the fire, he didn't feel cold anywhere.
About the Author
Diana DeRicci is the sexy, flirty pen name of Diana Castilleja. A romance author at heart, DeRicci's writing takes you into a saucier spectrum of sensuality and sexual adventure, where a happily-ever-after is still the key to any story. Diana lives in Central Texas with her husband, one son, and a feisty little Chihuahua named Rascal. You can catch the latest news on all of Diana DeRicci's writing and books on her website. Feel free to drop Diana an email. She'd love to hear from you.
Visit her on the web at:
www.DianaDeRicci.com
Also available from Purple Sword by Diana:
Watching Her Every Move
Alpha Awakening
Love's Learning Curves
Caged
Embraced By Passion
Delany's Catch
Shifted Perceptions
Draven's Crossing II: Mind Games
Wolf's Seduction
PURPLE SWORD PUBLICATIONS, LLC

