12

Jadon

He’d gotten away.

Again.

Jadon tried to tamp down his fury as he escorted Nico—pale and trembling—to his room, but it felt like a losing battle. The suspect had been here. Inside the dorm. Waiting. He’d planned the whole thing. He’d been waiting. He’d watched them approach the dorm. If Nico had returned alone, Jadon guessed the assault would have happened near the entrance. But Jadon had ruined that plan, and so the suspect had retreated and gone with his backup plan: the lights on Nico’s floor. And in spite of Jadon’s best efforts, the man had escaped again—in Jadon’s memory, the chase was a blur of impressions: the sky a gray smear of light pollution, the branches of old trees swaying overhead, the narrow passageways between the old campus buildings, and then emerging, his body hot from the run, his breath steaming, into the emptiness of the quad.

When they stopped at Nico’s doors, Jadon waited for Nico to unlock it, but Nico only stood there. After a moment, Jadon took Nico’s hand and slowly worked the keys loose from between his fingers. Nico’s breathing stuttered, and tears rushed into his eyes. He blinked them away, and as he released the keys, shook out his hand like it was aching.

“That was smart,” Jadon said as he opened the door. “The keys were a good idea. You kept your head, and you remembered how to protect yourself.”

Nico’s little noise was half laugh, half sob. After Jadon gave the room a quick look, Nico didn’t resist when Jadon put a hand at the small of his back and walked him inside.

He’d been in Nico’s room earlier that day, but it seemed like it had been so much longer. The morning, and that run through Forest Park, and the moment that had flowered between them, with the Jewel Box like a giant prism, and Nico talking about subjectivity and truth, and the way Nico had seemed brighter, more alive as he talked—all of it felt like it had happened ages ago. Sparkling, Jadon thought, remembering how Nico had looked with the sunrise lighting his face. Like Nico was a prism too, and people only saw the sharp edges, the glass, until light hit him at the right angle, and then there was so much more.

“Why don’t we pack your clothes,” Jadon said as he helped Nico sit on the bed, “and we’ll get out of here? You can stay at my place—” Nico opened his mouth, and Jadon rushed to add, “—in the guest room. Or if that makes you uncomfortable, I’ll get you a hotel.”

“What?” Nico stared at him blankly.

“You can’t stay here, Nico. I’ll pack your stuff. Tell me if I miss anything.”

“I can’t leave.”

“What do you—”

“Do you know how that would look?”

“How it would look? What—” Jadon stopped himself from saying, What does it matter how it looks? Instead, he managed “Right now, the most important thing is that you’re safe.”

“The most important thing that matters is giving my paper tomorrow, convincing one of the professors to write me a letter, and making sure they include me in the edited collection.” Nico’s voice got stronger as he spoke, and some of the color was coming into his face. He pushed his shaggy hair back with both hands and said, “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll lock my door or something and—”

“Nobody is going to care if you sleep somewhere else tonight. They’re certainly not going to be upset that you took steps to keep yourself safe when you’re clearly in danger.”

Nico shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right about that. I don’t understand.”

“Dr. Chapman, he—God, it’s a long story, but he heard me saying something stupid about hooking up, and you don’t know how he is. He’s this terror of a dinosaur, and he, I mean, he’s going to say it’s my fault or something. That I shouldn’t have drawn that kind of attention, or—or I don’t know.”

Jadon breathed slowly. He studied Nico’s wide eyes, his shallow breathing, the restless hands that plucked at hair and clothing. “I understand that right now, you’re upset, and you’ve been through a lot. But you’re not thinking clearly. What matters—”

“I already told you what matters!” Nico recoiled from his own shout, making himself smaller, arms wrapping around his stomach. In a quieter voice, he said, “I’m not leaving.”

After a long ten-count, Jadon said, “I’ve got to call this in.”

Nico nodded without looking up at him.

Jadon called campus security first. Then he called Cerise. In actuality, everyone responded promptly, but the process was long and onerous, with Jadon briefing the campus security guards who arrived, and then telling his story to Cerise, and then Nico, withdrawn and still hugging himself, delivering his statement in a monotone, without looking anyone in the eye.

When it was finally over, one of the campus security guards offered to patrol the area for the rest of the night. Cerise lingered with Jadon near the stairs at the end of the hall. Her eyes cut to Nico’s door, still open, and she lowered her voice. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

“No.”

“He should go to a hotel.”

“I told him.”

“I can tell him if you want.”

Jadon shook his head.

A radiator rattled to life nearby, pinging and creaking and groaning. Cerise’s face was a maze of questions, but finally she said, “Don’t fuck yourself over, please.”

“I won’t.”

“I’m begging you.”

Jadon surprised himself with a quick smile. “I appreciate the concern.”

“I don’t want to break in a new partner,” Cerise said as she pushed open the door to the stairwell. “Dhan’s excited to see you tomorrow. At our Halloween party. On time.”

Jadon tried to swallow a groan.

“I believe the invitation includes a plus one.”

“Goodnight,” Jadon said, and he chose not to acknowledge the smirk as Cerise cut her eyes toward Nico’s room again.

Jadon made his way down the hall and stopped in the doorway. Nico stood in the middle of the room. He was still in the trousers and quarter-zip, staring at his suitcase on the floor. After what felt like a long time, he looked up, his face was unreadable.

“If you’re staying here,” Jadon said. “I’m staying here.”

Nico opened his mouth.

But Jadon spoke first, pointing to the second bed. “It’s not a discussion, Nico. Right there.”

Nico pushed fingers through his hair. Then he nodded.

“I’ll let you change—”

“I’m sorry I shouted at you.” Nico shifted his weight. Some of that shaggy hair fell over his eyes. “Will you please come in and not stand there?”

So, Jadon stepped into the room. It seemed smaller with the door shut. The two of them taking up almost all the space. But fitting, somehow. Like their bodies were lock and key. Like everything lined up the way it should.

“I know you think I’m overreacting,” Nico said. “I know I’m overreacting. I—I—” For a moment, he looked like he was about to cry.

Jadon moved before he could tell himself not to. He slid his arms around Nico, and Nico melted into him. He wasn’t shaking anymore, but his breath came in little bird-wing flutters, and Jadon made soothing noises as he rubbed Nico’s back.

“I told you,” Nico finally whispered. “About what happened. With that guy.”

Those three little bursts of words contained a lot: being betrayed, being drugged, being kidnapped, being forced to endure darkness and isolation and mind games, thinking you were about to die. Nico had told Jadon some of it in those strangely confessional texts. Other parts, Jadon had learned on his own, piecing together the story. Because it had mattered. Because it had happened to Nico.

Still rubbing Nico’s back, Jadon said, “This isn’t the same, okay? I want you to understand that. You’re not alone. You’re not on your own. You’re going to be safe.”

Nico’s breathing slowed. The air that moved across Jadon’s neck was hot and dry, and the skin there was sensitive to each tiny puff, to the faint hint of stubble on Nico’s cheek when he burrowed more deeply into Jadon, to the contact of skin on skin. One of Nico’s legs was slotted between Jadon’s, and he was painfully aware of how their bodies lined up, of the slight tremors in Nico’s body that made it feel like he was vibrating against Jadon.

“I hate feeling like this,” he mumbled into Jadon’s shoulder. “I thought I was done feeling like this.”

“It’s a process.” Jadon kept his hand moving across Nico’s back. “Ups and downs.”

“I hate feeling helpless. I’m not helpless.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am, actually. I froze.”

“You didn’t freeze. You ran, and then, when you found help, you improvised a weapon and defended yourself.”

“It felt a lot like freezing.”

“You didn’t freeze.” Then, making his voice lighter, Jadon added, “But a little tip for next time: keep running until you’re somewhere with a lot of other people.”

Nico stilled. And then he laughed softly into Jadon’s shoulder and shook his head. He moved like he might pull away. “I’m sorry. God, I’m being ridiculous. You probably think I’m insane.”

Before he could think about it too much, Jadon found Nico’s hand and clasped it in his own. He brought Nico’s fingers to his chest, pressed them against the shirt, and moved them until he felt the familiar ridges of the scars there. Nico’s breathing changed.

“I know what it’s like to feel helpless,” Jadon whispered. “I know what it’s like to be hurting and alone and afraid. You don’t have to pretend to be okay. You don’t have to do anything except be here.”

The change in breath against Jadon’s neck suggested Nico might speak, but no words came. Just those hot blasts of air, every centimeter of Jadon’s skin blazing and awake at the sensation. He released Nico’s hand, but Nico kept his fingers where they were, pressed to the scars hidden under Jadon’s shirt. Jadon looped his arms around Nico’s waist. Like we’re dancing, Jadon thought, and it felt like a betrayal, but he couldn’t ignore it. This is how he would feel against me.

“Why don’t you change into something more comfortable—” Jadon began.

Nico kissed him.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t sneaky. He turned his head, and their mouths aligned, and then his lips were pressed to Jadon’s, and they felt rough and chapped and warm and soft, and they tasted like the beer and like salt and like Nico, the faint hints of him that Jadon had gotten over the last few days. Nico pulled his head back. It was strange how his eyes could be so dark and still be so full of fire.

Almost, Jadon opened his mouth to ask or to tell or to warn or to suggest. And then he remembered the salad, and he didn’t. He brought his mouth to Nico’s, and he made the next kiss a question. One that Nico answered a moment later when his lips parted, and he let Jadon’s tongue into his mouth.

Then they were moving. Nico pulled Jadon toward the bed, shoving on Jadon’s jacket to force it off. He unbuttoned Jadon’s shirt, stroked his chest, pulled at his waistband. It was like he had a million hands instead of two, and Jadon could only stumble after him. It had been so long, felt like longer, since he’d touched someone, had someone touch him. He’d forgotten how good a kiss could be, how much sensation could carry through the nerves of lips and mouth and tongue. Nico’s mouth, for example, was warm and almost unbelievably soft. His kisses alternated between demanding and playful, his tongue teasing Jadon’s before he sucked him back in. Jadon was only distantly aware of being turned around—manhandled was the correct term, a part of his brain recognized; Nico is manhandling you—and urged up onto the bed. Nico climbed up to straddle his lap. He’d lost his quarter-zip, and his shirt hung open to expose his flat chest and belly. Then he stopped. Ran his fingers slowly over the scars on Jadon’s chest—the lines that marked him there. Jadon opened his mouth with the stupid idea of asking a question, but Nico was there almost immediately, his kisses insistent, crushing.

He pulled his mouth away from Nico’s to sit up straighter, and as Nico worked his shirt free from first one arm and then the next, Jadon kissed his way along Nico’s jawline. He stopped at Nico’s ear, kissing, running his tongue around it, and Nico giggled and moaned and wiggled forward. Jadon grabbed his ass in both hands and hauled him forward the remaining inches. It was a great ass—a cute little bubble butt, surprisingly muscular as Jadon kneaded it with his fingers. Then he had one hand in Nico’s hair, pulling his head to the side so he could attack Nico’s neck, kissing and sucking and biting. Nico made helpless little noises, one hand coming down to rub Jadon’s dick through the wool trousers. Then Nico’s hand switched to Jadon’s belt and waistband, and he was aware of the zipper being tugged down. He kept his attention on Nico, nipping at his collarbone, kissing hard enough to bruise, sucking. The cocktail of anger and frustration and pent-up horniness frenzied him. The thought that someone had tried to hurt Nico.

“Oh shit,” Nico moaned. And then the word drawn out with pleasure, “Jay.”

Jadon lowered his head and took Nico’s nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue around the dark bud. He was vaguely aware of Nico’s ragged breaths, of his hand fumbling over the length of Jadon’s erection, trying to jerk him off through his trunks. He closed his teeth lightly around the nipple, and Nico let out a constrained groan, like he was fighting the noise.

“Up,” he rasped. “Up, up, Jadon, lift your hips.”

It took some gymnastics, but Jadon managed to raise himself a few inches without spilling Nico onto the floor. Nico yanked Jadon’s trousers and trunks down. Cold air met his dick, which jutted up against his belly. Nico fumbled with his own waistband, and a moment later, he was shoving his pants down until his cock sprang free. Like everything else on him, it was beautiful—a nice size, a nice girth, uncut with the hood of foreskin slightly pulled back. His balls were pulled up tightly. He was, of course, groomed.

Nico sounded a little breathless as he squirmed forward on Jadon’s lap. It was awkward with his pants around his thighs, and he made a little bleat of distress when Jadon stopped him, forced him to shift his weight to one knee and then the other as Jadon tugged pants down around his ankles. It was easier after that, Nico astride him, pressing in for every inch of contact. The brush of bare skin against bare skin. Their dicks rubbing together and then sliding apart. Nico’s dick rubbing through Jadon’s bush, grinding against his belly. Jadon’s dick sliding across the smooth toned flatness of Nico’s stomach. Mouth on mouth again, Nico demanding more, like he was pulling the breath from Jadon’s lungs.

It had been so long. And so much, so fast, was overwhelming. It happened so quickly that Jadon only had time to moan a failed warning—“Nico”—and then the orgasm gripped him, his whole world contracting to the rush of pleasure, the release, the feeling like a part of his mind had blown open onto somewhere else. Nico’s hand was tight around him, milking him through the finish. And then Jadon slumped against the wall, every muscle loose and relaxed.

Nico’s shaggy hair was a mess. Hickeys covered his shoulders. Jadon had painted himself with his load, and already, it was starting to run down the sides of his chest and stomach onto the mattress.

“I’m sorry,” he began.

But Nico shook his head, smiling. He scooped up some of Jadon’s load and began to stroke himself. He closed his eyes, thrust into the circle of his fingers. His belly tightened. Jadon had the dreamy image of what Nico would look like when he fucked. Or got fucked.

Nico’s face screwed up, and he grunted as he shot—volleying his load onto Jadon’s chest. His face relaxed, he let go of his dick, and his eyes opened with a kind of hazy pleasure. He bent forward and kissed Jadon.

Somehow, they stripped the rest of the way and ended up lying together, Jadon spooning Nico as their loads cooled between them, one hand low on Nico’s belly, pressing him to him. The possessiveness of it surprised a part of Jadon’s mind. But not too much. Not enough to bother him. Their breathing evened out. Jadon kissed Nico’s neck, and Nico shivered.

“It’s been a long time,” Jadon said.

Nico shook his head. “It’s fine, Jay. It was wonderful.”

“I don’t want you to think every time.”

Nico’s laugh was unexpectedly sweet, and he brought Jadon’s hand to his mouth and kissed his fingers. “It’s been a while for me too.” And then, his voice huskier, he added, “You make me feel safe.”

“You make me feel happy,” Jadon said, and he hadn’t known he was going to say the words until he had. Hadn’t known they were true until he’d said them.

Nico didn’t say anything, but Jadon could see his mouth curve with pleasure, and he kissed Jadon’s fingers again.

“Come to a Halloween party with me,” Jadon said.

With a laugh, Nico looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“Tomorrow. Please. I don’t want to go, and I have to, and the only way I’m going to make it through the night is if I get to spend it with you.”

Nico was silent for several moments. Then he said, “Okay. I’ve got the closing dinner of the seminar, and then I’m free.” In a hesitant voice, he added, “You could come with me.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” And then, his voice slightly different, “Is it a date?”

“I’d like it to be.”

Jadon’s heartbeats sounded loud in the silence that followed.

“I’d like that too.”

“Then,” Jadon said as he leaned in for another kiss, “it’s a date.”