Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Reed

I groan as the last of my piss hits the toilet, the pressure in my bladder alleviating. A quick shake, and then I tuck my dick in my joggers before adjusting the elastic and flushing. I cross to the sink.

Taking a piss feels different.

It all feels different. I turn on the water, then soap and wash my hands before drying them on the orange towel hanging by the sink.

It just feels different . Even the way I wash my hands. It doesn't make sense, but it's true.

I glance in the mirror, then lean forward and run a hand over my low stubble. I haven't shaved in a couple of days. Luckily, it takes a while for me to grow anything, and even then, it comes in patchy.

I even look different.

I look easier. A lift at the edge of my lips, a few lines there. They're happy lines. My eyes are a shade lighter; my messy hair looks darker. My neck is still red, and I'm betting that under my shirt my chest is too. His handprints were on me—my chest, my neck, my back. Not bruises, but just the grab of fingers, and I don't want them to fade.

I didn't think about it feeling different while Lennox and I were together. I was just surviving for the next millisecond, for every look he gave me, every time he moaned. Being with him… fuck me. I didn't know it was possible to want someone like that. Just being close . There was the sex, of course, but his nearness. The way he feels.

I glance at the door, missing him already.

Why the fuck am I hanging out in the bathroom by myself?

I step to the door and pull it open, glancing into the dark hallway.

I was nervous about using the bathroom. I'm not trying to hide, but I'm not looking for an argument right now, either.

I step quietly out, into the dark, and then head down toward Lennox's door at the other end, trying to keep the floor from creaking under my weight. I turn the handle and push open the door, slipping inside.

The blue light in his room makes me breathe out, and my shoulders release, a smile rising.

He's sitting on his bed, his back to the headboard, wearing just a pair of jeans, rips on his knees where they're propped. His sketchpad is on his thighs, but I can only see the top from this angle. He glances up when I close the door, his pencil pausing. His hair is loose, curling around his ears, his teeth grazing across his bottom lip.

"Can I sit with you?" I ask.

His lips lift. "You better."

I move to the bed, stomach tightening again, blood pooling low. Jesus, I'm out of control. Before I sit, I reach back and grab the neck of my shirt, then tug it over my head. I toss it somewhere on the floor. I don't give a fuck where it lands. I want to be skin to skin with him.

"Lay on me." I slide in behind him, my back to the headboard, his back to my chest. He snuggles against me, between my legs, his sketchpad still on his propped knees. I grab him around the chest and pull him closer, so we're propped up more, my nose against his temple.

I inhale the smell of him, then I squint at what he's drawing. "Is that me?"

"Yep." He traces the outline of my chest. I'm shirtless, hat backward, eyes fixed ahead, arms at my sides, although not completed. I don't exist from the waist down yet.

My arms are under his, hugging him back against me, his ass against my dick, his shoulders against my chest, our skin warm and still clammy.

Fuck, I like having him here. My dick is firming against him, but it doesn't seem like a problem for him. He accepts it, accepts my body reacting to him.

And I like being here. It's hard to explain why I like it so much. Although maybe I should try.

Maybe I should tell him the full truth.

The thought lingers as he twists his head, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. "I decided to stop at your waist in case you don't want me to draw your cock."

My lips lift. "You can draw my cock. I'd kinda like to see what it would look like in pencil."

"Really? You wouldn't mind."

"I don't know. Are you going to show it to people?"

"I don't usually hide my work." He twists more to smile back at me. "But I can make an exception in this case."

I shrug, my shoulder moving against the headboard. "I'm not worried about my dick, actually. I walk around in a Speedo—it's pretty much on display anyway. Although, I do have one issue with your drawing."

His right brow rises. "Is that so?"

"Yes," I say gruffly.

"Are you going to tell me?"

I bite back my smile, schooling my features. "Are you going to listen?"

"Doubtful." He taps the sketchbook with the tip of his pencil, his fingers moving, those painted nails colorful against the white paper.

"Then why should I tell you?"

"Because you can't resist."

"You've got me there." I squeeze him tighter. "My cheekbones are not that defined."

Lennox laughs, his shoulders shaking, his ass pressing back against me. I inwardly moan, my cock twitching against his ass where it's managed to nestle into his crack, and fuck… I am perfectly content right now. Truly and deeply happy.

"Yes, they are that defined," he says. "Trust me on this. I've evaluated them from every angle."

"You have?"

"I have."

I press my nose against his temple, then lightly kiss him, my lips lingering, my hands slipping lower, down to his stomach, which moves under my touch. "Then I have another issue."

"What is it this time?"

"Where are my wings?"

He laughs. Then he turns, and in a few quick strokes, they come to life. It's completely fucking astounding. It's a few lines, and suddenly wings are branching out from behind me like they're falling out of his pencil. Created so effortlessly and with such precision that it's mind boggling.

"You're so talented," I whisper. It rolls off him—this deeply creative vibe that I feel down to my toes. Being with him inspires me. It makes me want to do better.

He stiffens. "It's just a sketch."

"But even with that, you're fucking incredible." I kiss his temple again, feeling the echo of his heartbeat against my lips. "Everything you create amazes me. I'm so lucky to be here. To be someone you share your time with." Fuck, I hadn't expected to say all that, and maybe it's edging on too much, but it's true. "I'm lucky you even look at me. That you let me hold you like this. I don't understand how it's possible that we fit together so well. Even when we're so different."

He clears his throat. "Are we different?"

I hesitate. I'm not sure how to answer that question. "From the outside, yeah, I think we are. But it doesn't feel like that when we're together."

"No, it doesn't." His voice roughens, his pencil lifting from his paper. "It's the same for me, Reed. You bewilder me, and then, at the same time, you make perfect sense. I just…"

"Yeah?" I prod, shifting behind him, keeping him close.

"I don't always feel like I know you," he says.

"You don't?"

"You've been in my world. My room, my friends, my life. I haven't seen yours. And if you don't want me to, then?—"

"Fuck, you're right." I drop my head back against the headboard. "I didn't fully realize that. I…" Fuck. "I'm not out."

He nods, but I can't see his expression. "I'm not pressuring you."

I squeeze him tighter. "I'm sorry. I feel like a dick. I just?—"

He twists to look at me, dark brown eyes serious. "The last thing I'd want is for you to do anything out of obligation."

"Jesus, it's not that. It doesn't feel like an obligation." I lick my lips. "Colin knows. I told him."

His right brow hitches. "When?"

"On the bus when I was gone. He wants to know if you like lasagna."

"I fucking love lasagna."

"Good." I slide my hand up to cup the side of his neck, then lean to kiss him, slowly, brushing my tongue against his. My cock throbs between his ass cheeks, my biceps tightening around his chest, the low stubble under my fingertips makes me groan, and I deepen the kiss more—as much as I can from this angle.

Fuck, I like kissing him.

"I'll get there," I say as we break, both breathing harder. "You're always waiting on me."

"I don't look at it like that." He pulls in a slow breath, his lips reddened and his back expanding against my chest. "I think we're both trying to sort a hell of a lot out."

I let my fingers trail down his stomach, along the ridges of his abs. I didn't expect him to be so fit, but Muay Thai must keep him lean. "What are you trying to sort out?"

He huffs out a low laugh. "Life? What I'm going to do after this movie. What I'm going to do in general."

"What do you want to do?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know."

"Shit, I don't either . I figured you probably had it all sorted out."

He laughs. "No. I thought you did."

I shake my head. "I hate this fucking assistant job. I want to play, but opportunities are limited here."

"Are they unlimited somewhere else?"

"Well, not unlimited. But better."

"Where?"

My shoulders stiffen. "Europe, Australia, Brazil."

He sets his sketchpad aside. "That sounds amazing, Reed."

My throat tightens. "Does it?"

"Yes."

I press my lips. "Colin's going to Spain. If I did something like that, I'd have to try out."

"You should."

I inhale the way he's looking at me, eyes fierce but focused. "I've imagined you telling me that. Telling me to stop picking up dirty towels. And at the same time…" I roll my thumb across his sternum and around his nipple, my heart thumping at his intake of breath. "There are a lot of reasons not to go. There's…" Him .

It's too soon to say that.

Two minutes ago, we were talking about me not being out, and now I've jumped to what it would mean if I left the country.

Jesus. I need to dial it back.

But I don't want to,

I want to skip over all the uncertainty. Skip all the games and questions.

"What about you?" I ask, trying to shift the subject to something safer. "What's after Jamie's film?"

His eyes move over me. Twice. The whites around his irises are tinted blue from the light, eyeliner still dark under his eyes, although it's faded. His lips are so soft and pink. I want to crush them, but I want to hear his answer more.

"I haven't told this to Jamie," he says quietly. "Or Indy."

I blink at him. "Told them what?"

"Uh…" He flashes me a quick smile. He's nervous . And it's so fucking cute that my cock twitches.

Has he been nervous around me before? Perhaps in the dark hallways in the hotel. But when we're talking, he's always in control. Steady and certain. Determined and straightforward.

I kiss his temple, letting my lips linger before moving down and nuzzling my nose against his cheek. He smells so ridiculously good—sweaty and musky and masculine. My blood heats, simmering in ways that I didn't know it could until recently. Being with him is the strangest cross between so deeply relaxed and so completely charged at the same time.

"Tell me," I say.

His cheek rises under my lips. "It's a long shot."

"That makes me even more curious."

"It feels ridiculous to say out loud."

"You're really building it up now."

He sighs. "Have you ever seen Illusion ?"

"Oh, hell, yeah. Colin and I watched it. It's a reality show for— holy fuck ."

"For SFX makeup." He scratches at the side of his jaw. "The film is part of my application. Not the makeup portfolio. I made it through that part. But they like to see evidence of following projects through, like this film. They asked for more information."

"Wait." I sit up, forcing him to do the same. "Are you saying you got through the first round?"

He sweeps his hair behind his ear. "And the second."

"Jesus, Lennox. Are you serious?"

He nods. "It's a long shot to be self-taught and be on one of these shows. And even if I did get on, it's still a competition. And I don't know if…" He stiffens. "I don't know if leaving Boston would be the right decision."

My eyes narrow. "You just told me to go."

"That doesn't mean I should." He reaches for his sketchpad and folds it closed, tucking his pencil in the spiral. "Besides, Jamie's here."

"Jamie's capable of taking care of himself."

He runs his thumb over the top edge of his sketchpad. Even the doodles on the cover are amazing. "He is now."

"What do you mean ‘now'?"

"It hasn't always been that simple." He stretches to set his sketchpad on the bedside table and then spins to face me. He swings his legs over the top of mine, his knees bent, his feet by my ass. We're pretzeled together, facing each other, and I reach around our legs to grab his hips, pulling him closer, thankful for my stupidly long arms.

"It's always been me and Jamie," he continues. The soft blue light plays over his face, the hush of his room around us. It's like we're the only two people in a fantasy world, creatures with wings rising on all sides of us. I'm always in the most amazing places when I'm with him.

"He was the first person I came out to." His hands settle on my shins. "He was there for my surgeries and all the changes, which is like a second fucking puberty. It was a lot. And now…" He glances at the door. "I don't even know where he and I stand."

"Because of me." I scrub a hand over my face.

His eyes whip to me. "I chose to kiss you. And then I chose to do it again."

"And again," I say.

His smile rises. "As many times as it takes."

I bite back my own smile. "It's going to take a lot of fucking times."

"Is it?" His voice gravels, and my cock twitches.

Jesus, how does he do that to me?

"You get me hot, Lennox." I rest back against the headboard, but my cock is swelling in my joggers, my balls tightening, my stomach contracting. "I love sitting here and talking, and at the same time, being so fucking turned on by you. Even when we argue, I feel it."

He shakes his head. "We don't argue."

"We disagree."

"That doesn't mean we're arguing."

"Are you sure?"

His lips press. "Yes."

"I feel like we're on the verge of arguing right now." And it's turning me on so damn much that I can feel the slickness of precum as my cock presses against my joggers. So much that I don't even care that it's four in the morning and I have a pickup game in two hours. I'll text Colin and cancel. This is the best night of my entire fucking life, and I'm going to suck up every last second. "Fuck, I like you."

"I like you, too."

"I really like you."

His lips lift. "I really like you, too."

"I feel safe here. I…" I slide my fingers along the rough seam of his jeans. I want him to know me. "I was adopted."

Lennox tilts his head, watching me thoughtfully. "I didn't know that."

"Not many people do."

He doesn't point out that my statement probably came across as a giant non sequitur. It wasn't from my perspective. It followed very clearly from the admission that I feel safe here.

"How old were you?" he asks.

"Seven." I sigh. "My mom was fourteen when she had me. My father was fifteen. Her parents didn't want her tied to a baby, so my father emancipated himself and raised me for a while. He died of a drug overdose when I was seven."

"Holy fuck, Reed." His forehead lines. "Do you remember?"

"Bits and pieces, yes." I drag my teeth over my bottom lip. "I remember him OD'ing."

"You were there?"

I nod, not wanting to go back into those memories. I can already feel my jaw hardening, my expression wanting to shut down. "I had a friend in elementary school whose parents adopted me. That friend became my brother. His parents, mine. It was hard on them, though." I shift my ass on the bed, suddenly cramped. This is the shit that's embarrassing to say. "I couldn't sleep alone. My adoptive parents had to move my bed into their room and then slowly, foot by foot, move it back into mine. I'd piss the mattress a lot. I'd lash out at school. Throw tantrums. I'd lie. I'd hide. I'd run away." I breathe, heat rising behind my eyes. "I was a fucking dick."

"You were a scared child." His hands are still on my shins, his index finger stroking a circle on my joggers.

"I was." I curl my toes behind him, my legs cramping. "And it took a long time to adjust to life. Sometimes I'm still adjusting. The need to fit in. The need to be who I'm supposed to be. To feel safe." I hesitate. "And my brother… he was always a step ahead, but his entire life got disrupted. From his point of view, everything was moving along perfectly until this dickhead kid came in, just someone he used to play Groundies on the playground with, and then suddenly, everything in his life changed. We weren't really friends after that."

Life was hard with him.

I'm grateful to my adoptive parents, but sometimes I wonder if we'd all have been better off if I'd gone to another family. Or stayed in foster care.

Lennox squeezes my shins. "That's why it's so important you feel safe here."

I blink. Jesus. He'd put my non sequitur together. I suppose it wasn't completely unobvious, but I'm not used to people listening as closely as he does.

"It's difficult to leave," I say. "To walk away from somewhere I've grown accustomed to, the people I'm familiar with, the world I know. Even if it means picking up stinky-ass towels on the locker room floor. Or living in the same damn house I did in college. Or putting up with friends who say obnoxious shit." I pause. "Not Colin."

He nods, and I continue.

"But around you, I just keep doing things. Agreeing to this movie when I have no clue what I'm doing. Walking into abandoned basements. Kissing a hot as fuck man when I shouldn't be." I grip his hips and pull him another half inch closer. "Coming out to Colin and thinking about how my life could be different. Who I am, and who I want to be. And why there's been so much division between those two things. You do all that for me."

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. "I haven't done any of that." He grins. "Besides the abandoned basement and kissing a hot as fuck man when I shouldn't be. You've been doing it all. I wasn't even there for some of it."

I hesitate, ruminating on the meaning of his words.

It's after four in the morning. I've been up for nearly two days now. And I've never felt so awake in my entire life.

My eyes move down to his lips. "Can I kiss you?"

His smile expands. "Can you fuck me?"

I groan, dragging him onto my lap, my arms wrapping around his waist, my lips finding his for long minutes before he tug down his jeans, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut to restrain myself when he turns, and I take in his ass.

I rim him.

My first rim job.

But definitely not my last.

By the time I sheathe my cock in a condom and slide into him, heavenly and slippery with lube, both of us are shaking, his ass canted up at me with him on his hands and knees. It's nearing five in the morning, and I think that I'll just stay awake forever. That I don't need to sleep if we're together.

That maybe I'd been asleep for too damn long.

It's time to wake up.