Chapter 11

11

ISAAC

I t was so damn hot .

As I blinked awake and tried to get my eyes to focus, the only thought in my foggy mind was that I was burning up. Surrounded by heat. And there was an incredible ache in my groin that was throbbing steadily.

Dim morning light snuck in through a tiny curtained window right under the ceiling, and I registered dully that I was lying on my stomach, draped over a furnace.

No. Not a furnace. Brody .

My skin felt sticky where it was plastered to his body, and the events of last night slowly crept back in.

Brody had come for me. Had been so painstakingly caring and gentle and sweet—the only thing that had been able to pull me from the haze of depression I'd been stuck in for days, the awful aftermath of a horrible panic attack. But I didn't want to think about that right now. All I could process, at this exact moment, was how good it felt to be glued to his body, how my face was nestled safely in the crook of his neck, my leg thrown over his thighs, my arm across his chest and my painfully hard cock digging into his hip. His chest moved up and down in slow, even intervals, his exhales fanning across my ear. One big arm was wrapped around my back, his long, calloused fingers curling around my waist. And he was shirtless.

Hadn't he been wearing a shirt last night? One or both of us had been sweating in the night because his skin was damp beneath my limbs. I dug my nose a little deeper into his neck, inhaling the salty scent of his skin, savoring it, and rocked my hips gently into him. The immediate burst of pleasure that flooded my groin had me clinging to him more tightly, and a small sound escaped me.

Fuck, this was so wrong of me. And yet, I still couldn't stop myself from thrusting into him again, seeking relief from this pulsing ache, and my next breath shuddered out of me. Brody's breathing stuttered, his fingers flexed against my waist, and he said throatily, "Isaac?"

Good god, his morning voice was husky and deep and so damn sexy. "Yeah," I said, way too breathily, and my fingers moved of their own accord, stroking across his chest, feeling the soft skin with firm, lean muscle underneath. My fingers played across his nipple, feeling the barbell, watching as the small bud hardened, and the ache in my groin tightened, deepened. Brody's hand slid down to my hip, and I watched, mesmerized, as he brought his other hand to his dick and rubbed hard. "Fuck," I panted, parting my lips against his skin and sweeping my tongue out to taste him. He tasted like salt and man and some kind of body wash, and it only had me humping into him again, needing more.

His hand gripped me tighter, and he stilled beneath me. "Isaac," he said, sounding a little more awake. "Stop."

I stopped moving immediately. "I don't want to stop," I said—practically whined—and disappointment flooded me. I just wanted him . I fucking needed him right now, and I didn't want him to stop me. To stop this.

When I trailed my hand from his nipple down his stomach, his abs contracted deliciously under my touch, the muscles quivering with tension. But he grabbed my hand, trapping it against his lower stomach. "Isaac," he said sternly. That only made more blood rush to my dick. Fuck, the way he said my name like that. "This isn't—you're not thinking clearly," he said, and I could hear how affected he was, could see his chest moving faster, could see the straining bulge of his own hard cock.

"Please don't make me stop," I begged. "Please. I need you, Brody." I tried to move my hand out from under his, to keep this going, because I was so fucking desperate and if we stopped now I didn't think I'd survive it.

Brody growled and, in an instant, had me flipped onto my back beneath him and was holding both of my wrists above my head. His eyes seared into mine, and there were lines of tension around his mouth. I looked down between us, where his big thighs straddled my hips, where his cock was hanging in his boxers, the tip prodding at the cloth like it was trying to break free. The sight of him hovering over me like this had me arching my back, trying to touch him, but he held himself just far enough away that I couldn't reach.

"Isaac," he snapped, drawing my gaze back to his. God but he was beautiful. I wished he would kiss me. "I don't think you really want this." His gaze softened, and I wanted to scream. "You've had a rough week, sweetheart. I would feel like I was taking advantage of you if we did something right now."

I banged my head against the pillow in frustration. "You're not," I said. "You won't be. Brody, I know what I fucking need, and I need you . So please , please, can you…can we…"

His eyes searched mine, and he said softly, "Can we what?"

"I just want you to make me come," I said, feeling pathetic. But him holding me like this, with his broad chest on display with all those tattoos and piercings, had only made that pounding need grow stronger. I knew what happened this week, and I would face it, in time. I just wanted him right now.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I need you to be sure, Isaac."

I nodded. "Yes. Yes, I'm so fucking sure, Brody." I arched my hips up, seeking friction, and Brody's eyes slid down my body, the fingers circled around my wrists tightening.

"Fuck, why can't I say no to you," he muttered, lowering his hips until I could feel the burning heat of his cock through the thin material of our boxers.

We both groaned at the contact, and when he pressed down harder, rolling his hips, my groan turned into a desperate whine. My body was on fire, and everything was thrumming with a buzzing energy that kept rolling to my cock in overwhelming waves. I was trembling now, and when Brody let go of my wrists, when he lifted his hips from mine and started to pull away, I grabbed for him, panicking. He pushed my wrists down again, placing a gentle kiss on my sternum. "I'm not going anywhere," he assured me. He released my wrists and dragged the material of my shirt up until it bunched above my chest, his hands immediately sliding along my ribcage. He lowered his head and began placing soft, barely-there kisses down my stomach, his wicked eyes flashing to mine when he dipped his tongue into my belly button. I jerked against him, and then he was tugging at my boxers, yanking them down my hips and sitting up to pull them off my legs.

"Fuck, baby, look at you," he rasped, his eyes devouring my cock. It twitched under his hungry gaze, a small bead of precum spilling from the tip. He flung my boxers away and rested his big hands on my thighs, his thumbs rubbing small circles against my skin. "You're so damn beautiful, Isaac. I knew your cock would be as pretty as the rest of you."

His words were only making the throbbing more painful. My fingers slid into the sheets on either side of me, clutching hard. "Touch me," I begged. "Please, Brody."

Brody slid his hands higher until his thumbs were digging into the crease between my hips and groin, and the stimulation was like nothing I'd ever felt. He kept rubbing his thumbs there, sending little shockwaves of pleasure to my cock, and when he lowered himself until his lips were a breath away, I gasped.

"Is this what you want, sweetheart? Do you want me to taste this pretty little cock?"

I nodded, incapable of speaking, and when he opened his mouth and flattened his tongue, licking from the base to the head, dipping his tongue into my leaking slit, a strangled moan was ripped from my throat and my eyes started to roll back.

"You taste even better than I imagined," he murmured. I could only hold onto the sheets and try to keep my eyes open as he wrapped one hand around the base and positioned me upright. His lips closed around the head and his tongue pressed and swirled as he took more of me into his mouth. And fuck me, he was so warm and wet and soft that a starburst of euphoria made me thrust involuntarily, seeking more pleasure, making me hit the back of his throat. I cried out, my hands flying to his head, fingers threading through his hair and gripping tightly. When he pulled back, sucking hard, his cheeks hollowing, that damn piercing dragging along my sensitive skin, I stopped breathing. He came off my cock and said, "That's it, baby, take what you need from me."

My entire body was shaking as he slid his hands under my thighs, pushing them up and spreading me open. Then he took me back into his mouth, focusing on the tip, gliding his tongue along the sensitive underside of the head and sending throbbing bursts of sensation to my balls, then swallowed me down in one quick move that drove me right into the constrictive pressure of his throat. I was making small noises with every panted exhale, unable to fight against the mounting ecstasy that was consuming me, a million tiny explosions happening all at once, and when he grabbed my hips and forced me even deeper, when his satisfied groan vibrated around my length, a hoarse cry erupted from me. I shoved his head down, holding myself deep in his throat as my balls drew up and the pressure detonated. There was a roaring in my ears as my vision whited out, as I pumped into his throat, my body curling forward. I was moaning as the roaring began to fade, but Brody kept me where I was, until my aftershocks began to die down, until my arms flopped to my sides, until everything I was made of felt like jelly.

Brody slid my softening cock from his mouth, his hands running soothing lines up and down my thighs, and I felt him place small kisses around my groin. And then he was moving higher, his hands following the path his lips took, and I shuddered when he reached my neck, his body pressed to mine. He nipped gently at my pulse point, making me twitch and bring my arms up, my hands settling on his back. My heart was pounding, my pulse roaring; I was sure he could hear every desperate beat. And it was all for him.

"You are so fucking beautiful when you come, Isaac," he murmured into my neck, nipping and kissing and sucking up and down the column of my throat. "You're so damn sexy, so unbelievably responsive, that you made me come untouched, just from sucking you off. Just from hearing all the noises you make. God, I can't believe I found you," he said, sounding in awe.

The care he had taken with me had a well of emotions springing up; an amalgam of affection, happiness, relief, gratitude, and contentedness that had me wrapping my legs around his waist. And his unwavering tenderness with me made me never want to let go. "Brody," I whispered, gliding my hands up and down the soft expanse of skin covering his back. The muscles there flexed as he held himself up on his elbows, lifting his head to meet my gaze. There was a thickness in my throat, and my infatuation with him only grew as he smiled down at me. "Thank you," I said. "For everything." He kissed my cheek, just a small peck, but it filled me with warmth.

"Are you okay?" he asked, bringing his hands up to either side of my face, threading his fingers through my hair. Stroking gently.

"Yeah," I said, giving him a small smile. "More than okay."

"Good," he said, his eyes moving all around my face, taking in every detail. "We should probably shower, though. And brush our teeth."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Good idea."

Brody kept sifting his fingers through my hair for a little bit longer, just staring down at me as I rubbed my hands up and down his back. And then he was sliding off me, holding out his hand, helping me to my feet.

"When was the last time you showered?" he asked.

"Yesterday. Jordan made me," I said. "Said he couldn't live in ‘the stink' anymore and that he loved me too much to let me die from my own toxic fumes."

Brody chuckled and said, "Why don't you look for your toothbrush while I use the bathroom, and then you can go."

Anxiety started building in my chest at him leaving, but I tried to tamp it down and nodded. I guess I wasn't quick enough to hide my panic, because he kissed my forehead and drew me into a hug. "I'll be right back," he said. "I promise."

"Okay," I said, my fingers flexing against his bare back.

I watched him leave, stared at the empty doorway for a moment, then looked at the two bags Jordan had packed for me. I still didn't let my mind wander anywhere near what had happened this week, instead focusing hard on rifling through all the clothes and unzipping outer pockets. By the time I found my toothbrush, Brody came back into the room, and I once again felt settled. Grounded. Safe.

"I don't know if…" he paused, scratching the top of his head. "If you want to shower together, or…"

"Together," I said quickly. Then added, "Please."

"Okay, Isaac."

When he smiled at me, I wanted to freeze this moment and exist here forever.

"I lied to you," I blurted out.

His smile fell and his face twisted in confusion. "About what?" he asked slowly.

"Your nose isn't too big. I actually really like your face, Brody." And a whole hell of a lot more than just that .

His laugh was loud and abrupt, and I was transfixed by the way he tilted his head back and closed his eyes for a brief moment, exposing the tantalizing column of his throat. "I like your face too," he said, his smile so wide it lit up his eyes. They practically glowed as he stared at me, and the pure joy in his features was heady.

"I'm gonna go brush my teeth and stuff, but I'll come get you in a few minutes," I told him.

"Okay," he said. "I'll be right here."

The bathroom was small, with just enough room for a toilet, sink, and bathtub. But, as with everywhere in Brody's domain, it was neat and tidy, sparkling and clean, and the green bath mat looked invitingly plush. I took care of my business and didn't look at my reflection in the mirror while I brushed my teeth. I wasn't ready to face myself just yet.

When I was done, I got Brody, and as we stood in the small bathroom together, he looked even larger than he was. Anticipation at being completely naked with him sang through my veins, and when he started lifting my shirt off me, I raised my arms to help him. He dropped it to the floor and just stared at me for a long time, his breathing picking up. I wasn't sure what about me he liked, because when I looked in the mirror, all I saw was a small, skinny guy. Nothing special at all. But he kept calling me beautiful, and I kept believing him. I wasn't sure which one of us was more delusional for that.

I reached out and started tugging at his boxers, thinking they had to be more than a little uncomfortable, filled with cum as they were, and slid them down his legs until he stepped out of them.

Brody had to be the most beautiful person I'd ever met. His body was all long, lean lines of muscle, deliciously tanned skin, and soft black hair. The entirety of him, standing before me, was almost overwhelming, and I wanted to touch and lick every inch of his gorgeous body. His cock was half hard, with short black curls at the base that connected to his happy trail. He didn't have any hair over his pecs, but his thighs, calves, and forearms were dusted with dark hair. When he reached over to turn the shower on, his delicious glutes flexed, and I couldn't help brushing my palm down his flank. He looked over his shoulder at me and smirked, and I wanted to kiss that smug smile right off his face.

When the water was hot enough, he stepped under the spray and held his hand out. I slipped my fingers in his and stepped over the lip of the tub. Sudden nerves gathered in my belly as I looked up at him, but they disappeared when he maneuvered me where he wanted me, my back pressed against his chest and groin, his powerful thighs brushing mine. As the warm water cascaded over us, I let my head fall back to rest on his chest and closed my eyes. I heard the snap of a cap, felt him moving, and let myself fall into the relaxation of letting him take over. He slipped an arm under mine and spread his broad hand across my stomach, and then I felt the brush of a loofa down my right arm, slow, gentle motions that he repeated across my chest, down my stomach, his hand moving to grip my waist. Then he was tilting me forward, washing my back, tranquil little circles that eventually reached my ass.

"Is this okay?" he murmured into my ear. I nodded, and he slid the loofa lower, over each cheek, then gently urged it into the crease. The first stroke against my hole made me jump, and he paused.

"No, I—it's okay," I said. I didn't want him to stop. Nothing had ever felt this good, this intimate. Not even what we'd just done in his bed.

Brody swept the loofa gently through my crease again, and then it disappeared. I felt him moving behind me, and then he was leaning over to soap up my legs, and when he got to my groin, my dick half hard from his lazy ministrations, he was as gentle and methodical as he'd been with the rest of me. Then the loofa was gone, there was another snap of a cap, and both his hands were in my hair.

"Tilt your head back," he instructed softly. I did as he said, keeping my eyes closed and relishing the feel of his long fingers scrubbing my scalp and washing my hair. I could feel the prod of his erection in my lower back, could feel the heat of it. But it felt like we were lost in a bubble of timelessness, and there was no hurry to do anything except feel and relax and bask in each other.

And in that moment, I realized I'd never known how much I'd been craving this kind of touch. His touch. Part of me was glad I didn't know, that I hadn't tried searching for something that, I knew now, would never compare to what Brody did to me. How he made me feel. That I hadn't wasted countless hours yearning for something I wouldn't have found for a long time. And I was so, so happy that, by whatever twist of fate, I had found him. And he felt the same way. Whatever this was between us, I wanted to prolong it for as long as I could.

Sadness tightened in my chest when I realized that this wasn't something I could have forever. That no one would ever want to tie themselves to someone as broken and fucked up as I was. That I don't think I was even capable of offering him what he deserved.

But maybe, for right now, we could just…keep exploring this thing between us. Keep enjoying each other. I knew I was getting too attached, and the ultimate end would break me even more, but I couldn't stop myself from pursuing this. Brody was safe and kind and thoughtful and hard-working, someone who'd been through hell and pulled himself from those hopeless depths and kept on going. Someone I could trust.

Brody's fingers were gently massaging my head, and then sliding down my neck until his arms wrapped around me.

"Can I wash you?" I asked. I wanted to take care of him like he was taking care of me. No one in my life had ever been as kind or considerate of me as Brody had been. No one. And it was a little selfish, too, because I wanted to soap up that big body of his, to feel every inch of him.

I felt him kiss the top of my head, and warmth snaked down to my toes at the show of affection. "Whatever you want, Isaac."

I turned around, and he had the loofa in his hands, already drizzling his body wash on it. Water streamed down his shoulders, sluicing over his pecs, through the gaps between his abs, around his outie belly button, and lower. For now, I kept my eyes and my hands focused on his torso. I glanced up and found him watching me, those gray eyes intense and soft at the same time, a dangerous dichotomy that was all Brody.

With circular motions, I stroked over his pecs, taking a closer look at the cherry blossoms stretching and curling across his chest. Then I moved to his left shoulder, where the roots of a tree arced over his deltoid, branches and stems twisting around one another and fading into another picture. A full moon was drawn over his bicep; beneath it and around it was a nighttime scene of trees and clouds and undergrowth, shooting upward. A myriad of plant growth, colored in blacks and grays that faded into his skin tone, were wrapped around his arm. It was eerie and hauntingly beautiful, and I loved it. It faded to black at his wrist, and then his hand was covered in small images that were fitted together, a jigsaw puzzle of various points of interest or meaning for Brody. I saw a tiny skull, a little rose with no stem, and a triangle, among others. He had a few rings tattooed around his pinky and index fingers. A word slicing across the side of his thumb. I brought his hand closer to read it and realized it was two words.

Take notice

I looked up again, and Brody already knew what I was going to ask. "My mom used to tell me that. When she felt like I was too in my own head or having a hard time appreciating things, or when things were hard in general. She'd say, ‘Take notice of all the beauty that surrounds you at any given time. Take notice, because it's always there, waiting for you to acknowledge it.' Or something like that," he laughed. "I got the cherry blossoms ‘cause they were her favorite, too."

I said nothing because my throat felt too tight, and no sufficient words were coming. Instead, I kissed his thumb, kept kissing up to his wrist, and wished I could take away the pain of the past. He rubbed his hand over my head, and then I kissed his chest and kept washing him. Kept discovering more. I was insatiable when it came to Brody. I wanted to learn everything I could, everything about what made him him . This wholly unique and beautiful creature with the patience of a saint.

I slid the loofa to his right arm, which didn't have a landscape, but rather a series of geometric shapes of blues and greens and blacks and reds that twisted and slanted around themselves. They ended in a triangular point in the middle of his hand, where a burst of flowers poured out onto his fingertips. Then I moved back to his abs, to the delectable vee of muscle that came together at his groin and, unable to stop myself, I licked a tiny stripe over his belly button.

He shuddered, his hands coming up to grip my head, but I just smiled up at him and began to lazily clean his cock and balls in the same methodical way he'd done for me. When I went lower and washed his legs, kneeling at his feet, he kept his hands on my head, and I could hear his breathing turn ragged. Still kneeling, I told him, "Turn around."

His fingers flexed in my hair, and then he let go, turning to face the wall. He braced his hands against the tiles in front of him, spreading his legs a few more inches. I could see his cock hanging in the space between his inner thighs, and the intensity of the urge I had to take it in my mouth almost startled me. But I didn't. I scrubbed up the backs of his legs, and then his ass, briefly drawing the sponge through his crease. He shivered and groaned, and my balls tightened up. When I did it a second time, he let out a frustrated growl.

"Isaac," he warned.

I sprang forward and bit his left cheek, and he bucked, letting out a string of curses. Then he turned around and hauled me to my feet, and for a brief moment, panic rose and fear took over. The briefest moment, barely a flicker. But Brodie saw the fear, heard my startled whimper, before I could tuck it all away again.

His face fell, and a not so small amount of self-loathing began to swell in my chest. Because I had a habit of ruining things. I couldn't even enjoy a simple shower with the man I liked, the man I trusted , without having the fucking past come show its ugly face again. As if I'd forget it, somehow. And, like the past had spoken to me, I could hear it: Remember me, Isaac? Remember this? You can never be free of me. I will have a hold over you that no one and nothing else will. You can never escape me. You can never escape yourself.

"Fuck, Isaac, I wasn't going to—hey, look at me," Brody said, sounding so distraught it tugged fiercely at my frayed heartstrings.

His hands were cupping my cheeks, his eyes desperately searching mine when I finally looked up at him. I placed my palms on his chest and said, "It's okay. I know. I just…got startled. That's all. I trust you, Brody." I pressed a kiss to his sternum, hoping to emphasize my point while apologizing for ruining the moment.

He leaned down and pressed his forehead to mine. "Okay, baby. I'll move slower next time. You ready to get out?"

I nodded against his temple, and he stood back up to his full height again, twisting to shut off the water. Then he reached out beyond the curtain and grabbed a towel, drying me thoroughly and wrapping it around me. It was huge and went from my shoulders to my shins, but I wasn't complaining. The bathroom was still damp and warm, but it would be cooler in his room. He got another towel for himself and then ushered me back to his room. All I wanted to do was fall back into his bed and cuddle against his naked body. Skin to skin. Let myself float in the cocoon of his warmth and safety.

But Brody said, "We should get some food in you."

My stomach growled, agreeing.

Brody pulled on sweats and a t-shirt—no boxers, I noted—then said, "I'm gonna go heat up those tacos but I'll be right back, okay?"

I swallowed. "Okay." I watched him as he left the room, then started digging through my bags for something to wear. I needed to call Jordan and thank him for taking care of me, so I dug around for my phone and eventually found it in a side pocket with my charger and tried to power it on, but it was dead, so I plugged it in. Then I grabbed a shirt, boxers, and sleep pants and pulled them on.

As soon as I got my pants on, it all hit me at once.

I was fucking exhausted. My mind had been a nonstop whirlwind of frantic, fear-induced activity that I hadn't been able to shut off for days. I had come face-to-face with my abuser—no, no. That wasn't right. Jordan had said it wasn't him. It was his brother. But he looked so much like him, it had the same emotions from back then come surging to the surface, drowning me in hysteria and despair, helplessness and, ultimately, a cold numbness that had left me empty and paralyzed.

It had been easier to stay there. Like I was trapped beneath the frozen surface of a lake, unwilling to hunt for the hole I'd fallen into. Except, Brody had come. Had broken right through all that ice and thawed me out.

I didn't know whether to be terrified of the hold he had over me, or grateful that I'd finally found someone I was deeply comfortable with.

I'd known when he soothed me after that first time I'd freaked out on him that he was dangerous. That he had so much power over me. And even though I didn't think he'd abuse that power, it was hard to shut that small voice in my head up. The one that enjoyed catastrophizing and watching me flounder.

"There's six left, and about—Isaac?"

I blinked, the room coming back into focus. And there was Brody; strong, reliable Brody. Patient and giving. Making all my worries fly out the window, as if they were nothing but intangible shadows and he was the brightest light, forcing them away.

I smiled at him, and he smiled back. "We could split them evenly, but that doesn't seem fair considering you're so much bigger than me," I said.

He huffed, looking me up and down, and said, "Then it's good I grabbed some bagels and donuts, too. Jamie decided he doesn't want carbs anymore, so. Our gain. Come sit on the couch with me."

I followed him out to the couch, and he laid the food out neatly on the coffee table. Like a buffet. God, he was fucking adorable. He even had napkins and paper plates.

"Oh shit—I completely forgot to tell you, it's snowing out. A lot," Brody said.

"What? But it's almost April…" There weren't any windows down here except for the one in his room, and that one was tiny and had a little curtain on it, so no wonder I didn't know.

"Yeah, some kind of freak snowstorm that blew in from New England. Jamie said we're supposed to get a foot."

"What!?"

"Yeah. They'll probably cancel classes, if that's the case."

I groaned. "Fuck. Well, at least that gives me time to catch up."

He eyed me, but didn't say anything more.

We ate mostly in silence, sneaking glances at each other, and when Brody sat back after throwing our trash away, all I wanted to do was climb onto his lap and rub myself against him.

"I think we should talk," he said, his tone sedate.

I knew this was coming. Of course it was. But I still said, "Taco ‘bout what?"

Brody raised his eyebrows and said, "Wow. Are you proud of yourself?"

"A little bit."

"Not even your cringey puns will help you avoid this conversation."

"I haven't even gotten to kiss you yet," I said, even though it was a completely random thought and I was just complaining at this point. Complaining and delaying. But damn it I was dying to taste those lips.

"You can kiss me after we talk."

He won't want to kiss me, not after he hears everything.

With a long sigh, I grabbed the ties of my pants for something to fidget with. "Promise me you won't…that this won't affect how you, uh. How you look at me."

"Isaac. I just want to understand what happened so I can help you. And if you don't want to tell me anything about your past, that's fine. I just…I care about you, and it kills me to see you hurting. I felt so fucking useless last night, and I had no idea how to help you."

He sounded really upset about that, too, so I said, "You help me, Brody. A lot. Just by being you." I looked up at him, hoping he could see the truth on my face. "And…I want to tell you. I do."

He played with his lip piercing, his eyes boring into mine, then asked, "Isaac…who hurt you?"

So I told him.

Everything.