22. Grady

When I hadn't heard anything from Cameron by midafternoon on Thursday, I tried to distract myself. It wasn't my job to check up on him or to even care when he returned from his folks' house, but my restless brain wouldn't leave me alone after another hour had passed.

I stared out the window, where rain pelted the panes. If he left and was driving in this… Christ, what was I thinking? Cameron was an adult. Still, I checked my phone again and then fired off a quick message.

Grady:Just checking in to see how it's going.

Cameron:I'm back. I should have messaged. I'm sorry.

Grady:You don't need to apologize. You're back, though, that's good. Did the visit go alright?

Cameron:It was fine.

A second later, the bubbles indicating he was typing popped up again.

Cameron:Honestly? It didn't end well. But I'll be fine. That's what I should have said.

Grady:Do you want to talk about it? You can call.

Cameron:No, not really.

Grady:What are you doing now?

Cameron:I said I'm fine. I'm not tempted to go swallow a handful of pills or anything, okay?

Grady:Not where I was going with that.

Cameron:Fuck. Sorry, I'm on edge. I'm sitting in the parking lot of the cafe, debating whether to go in and try to pick up a shift.

Cameron:I should go in and pick up a shift.

Grady:Or you could come over here instead.

Cameron:For sex?

Grady:For a talk. To relax. Get things off your chest. I'm a decent listener.

Cameron:I don't want to interrupt you.

Grady:Cameron. Put the damn car in gear and come over here.

Cameron:Or what? You'll dock my grade?

A glimmer of a smile formed on my lips. He was okay enough to be sarcastic, which was promising.

Grady:Something like that.

I kept an eye on the back door and, when I saw his lanky figure approaching, set aside the stack of papers I hadn't been reading anyway.

In the short walk to my stoop, Cameron had gotten soaked by the downpour, despite the hooded coat he wore.

"Christ, where's your umbrella," I muttered as I flung open the back door and yanked him inside.

"Couldn't find it." He let out a soft laugh as he glanced down at himself. "Here, let me… I'm dripping all over your floor."

"Lemme grab some towels. Don't move." I dashed down the hallway and upstairs, swiping some towels from the linen closet, along with a pair of sweats and a tee, before heading back downstairs to find Cameron carefully peeling off his clothes. I halted in my tracks, studying the dripping ends of his hair, the patchwork of goose bumps all over his skin, the scintillating blue eyes as he peered up at me. He was stunning.

"I'll clean this up, promise."

"No, I…" I shook my head from my daze and bustled forward to wrap a towel around his shoulders.

Cameron grinned up at me as he straightened. "You gonna dry me off, too?"

"Maybe, smart-ass. Here, put these on and get in the kitchen." I handed him the clothes. "I'll make some hot chocolate. Or tea. Or coffee. Whatever you like."

Maybe Cameron read the concern in my eyes because his expression softened. "That sounds good. Any of them. Or even all three. I'm fine, seriously."

"I don't have a good track record with ‘I'm fine,'" I muttered as I ushered him into the kitchen.

Cam stopped in his tracks and spun around, causing me to nearly bump into him. He caught me by the arms as I stumbled, melted warmth in his eyes as he said, "Who takes care of you?"

"Huh?" I blinked. "I do. And I know, yes, you can take care of yourself," I continued, thinking he was about to make a point about being a grown man, which I was well aware of. "But?—"

"That's not what I meant." He shook his head. "I…I don't want to be something you have to take care of."

"That's not at all what I meant, Cameron. I want to…" I trailed off, the meaning of his words—both the spoken and unspoken—sinking in. I cupped his jaw, the bite of stubble against the pad of my thumb soothing and familiar as I met his eyes. "You're not a task to complete or something I have to take care of. You're not a burden."

His gaze burned back into mine. "Then let me take care of you, too. While we're doing this together, let me take care of you, too."

He staggered me, caught me off guard, and while I didn't move an inch physically, inside me, something shifted, a swooping sensation in my stomach, and then a strange lightness rushed in. This was usually the part where my guard went up, where I would seal that sensation off into a different compartment and try to forget it existed. I wondered what would happen if I didn't do that, if I allowed that feeling to persist inside me, to spread out and sprawl, to take root. The prospect had me inhaling a shaky breath, and then I nodded. "Okay."

"Good." I felt him smile into the kiss I brushed over his lips and carried that sensation with me as we broke apart and I continued to the stove, rummaging around beside it until I found the kettle. I felt his eye on me, and when I glanced back, he'd hopped onto the counter and was watching me with a little half smile. "Never thought I'd be sitting in the kitchen of my professor's house while he makes me tea."

"And hot chocolate and coffee," I quipped back, and his smile broke into a full-on grin that might as well have been the sun breaking through the clouds.

Once I'd finished concocting our assortment of beverages, I set them all in the middle of the table and gestured for him to join me.

"This is ridiculous, you know that?" he said, eyeing the spread.

I shrugged. "Sometimes ridiculous is exactly what you need." I waited until he selected a mug of tea and then pushed a mug of hot chocolate toward him, as well. "Will you tell me about the visit with your parents?"

Cameron's gaze slowly dropped from mine to the steaming mug in his hands. He took a sip, the hot liquid seeming to relax the tight grip he held on his emotions.

"It's complicated. It always is, right? They're complicated. I'm complicated." The way his fingers danced on the rim of the mug seemed like a sign of discomfort, and I reached across the table to lay a hand over his. He glanced down at our hands, an unreadable expression flickering across his face before he turned his gaze back to meet mine. "It's hard for me to escape feeling like they still see me as the kid who messed up and can't get anything right. It's not like they say that outright. They're not abusive. It's just this…" He ran his hand through his hair, pulling at it with frustration. "Undercurrent. I don't know if I'm projecting or if it's real, to be honest. It feels like since I left home, and everything that happened after, I'm no longer the same person I was before, yet they still want me to be the kid who did everything they told me to while looking at me as the one who did things they taught me not to do. Does that make sense?" His confusion was almost tangible, a haze of miscommunication and heartache that made the kitchen air feel heavy.

"Perfect sense," I replied gently, squeezing his hand. "You've grown and evolved, but sometimes those who've known us the longest struggle to see past the image they've held on to for years."

He nodded, a flicker of relief passing over his face that I understood. "Yeah, it's like they're stuck in a time warp and can't…or won't…move forward with me. At the same time, it makes me feel really ungrateful because they fucking raised me. They got me to rehab when I really needed it. I know they love me. I know they want what's best for me, but I don't think we're ever going to agree on what that is, and I can't get them to understand that pills and college aren't the reason I am who am, that a liberal arts education didn't make me more gay." He scratched the edge of his thumbnail over the Silver Ridge U logo blazoned on the mug. "I just wish they could like who I am now. See past the mistakes I've made to the progress."

My chest tightened at his words, and I glimpsed the vulnerability in his eyes. "Was there an argument while you were home? Something that brought all of this to the fore again?"

He sighed. "The first night I got there, I told them I was thinking about staying here again for the summer, maxing out summer courses so I could graduate in August instead of next winter. And then I refused to take the drug test they leave out for me every time I come home. It escalated from there."

"Oh?" Cameron's summer plans were news to me, as well, and a soft ache spread through my chest thinking about it. We didn't talk about the future. There was never supposed to be a future. And while I was obviously aware that he'd eventually graduate and move on—and of course, I wanted him to go live his life—I was increasingly reluctant for that to happen anytime soon. I'd made a classic mistake assuming that as long as we were careful, we'd have longer.

"Yeah. I talked to my advisor last week before the break, and he thinks I'll be able to manage it. I'll probably have to cut back a bit with work, but long term, it saves me a little money to graduate over the summer."

And there it was. Future plans, the inevitable separation looming in the distance. I felt a pang of regret, a selfish wish that we could stand still in time and let the world turn without us. But I knew better.

"That sounds like a wise decision," I forced out, sounding more enthusiastic than I felt. The last thing I wanted was for my self-serving disappointment to cloud his achievement, especially on top of the weight of his parents' apparent disapproval. "So your folks didn't like the idea?"

A laugh escaped him, gritty and lacking any true humor. "Not at all. Especially Dad. He started in on how I'm already barely keeping my head above water. He thinks I'm setting myself up for another failure. He meant relapse, too, but he didn't say that aloud. He thinks I'll fall back into old habits. My mom was disappointed because she'd been hoping I'd come back as a counselor for their church's summer camp. I never committed, but I didn't say no outright initially because I'd been thinking about it from a resume-boosting angle when I apply for grad school. But the more I've thought about it, I can't do it. I love kids, but I can't go along with the whole religious aspect that the camp centers around. It's not what I believe." He shook his head. "It feels like a betrayal of myself to get involved. So then my mom said she was disappointed that they'd ever agreed to let me come here in the first place, that she no longer recognized me and was sad that I'd left home her son and come back a stranger."

The heaviness of his words studded the air between us, a bittersweet cocktail of self-discovery, parental disappointment, and the looming uncertainty of the future. I felt intense sympathy for him.

"I'm really sorry that happened, Cameron."

He gave me a half-hearted smile as he switched over and took a long sip of the hot chocolate. "I thought coming out was the hardest thing I'd ever do, but it feels like they'd rather I pretend to be someone else for their comfort than accept me for who I am. Just your regular ol' atheist gay dude."

"You're much more than that, sweetheart. I hope you know that. You're smart, witty, empathetic, thoughtful, determined, breathtakingly gorgeous…"

"You think Clark Kent ever resented being Superman? Or, like, the whole dichotomy of who he was versus who he presented himself as? That's the whole premise of superheroes, right? They have two identities. The superhero and the citizen. Both respected and loved, but truly known by few. I'm not a superhero or anything, but when I'm around my folks, I always feel like they liked me in disguise better, like if I could keep wearing that costume, everything would be better. But the thing is, I didn't really understand how much of myself I disguised until I left home."

This was no light conversation; it was an excavation of truth and hurt, dug from the raw bedrock of Cameron's past, and I couldn't deny a part of me felt honored he trusted me enough to share it.

"You shouldn't have to be anything other than yourself, Cameron. No mask. No disguise. You're enough as you are."

"You don't have to say that, but thank you."

"I'm saying it because it's true."

Cameron exhaled a shuddery breath, meeting my gaze. "I'll figure it out. I just get overwhelmed sometimes."

"How about you stay here tonight?" I hated the idea of him going home to an empty house, all his roommates off on their vacations and him left to wrestle with all of this alone. Perhaps more selfishly, I also relished the idea of sharing a bed with him. Going to sleep and waking up next to him, regardless of whether we had sex or not. We'd never done that before. I wasn't even sure he'd agree.

Cam seemed surprised, but not unpleasantly so. His eyes were wide as he studied my face, perhaps looking for a hint of insincerity. "Stay here? Like…overnight?"

"Exactly like overnight," I affirmed with an encouraging nod as I squeezed his hand reassuringly. "No expectations, Cameron. Just company. Just you and me."

A shy smile curled around the edges of his lips, dimpling his cheeks irresistibly, and the flame of hope in his eyes melted me. "That sounds nice."

I returned his smile with relief, contentment washing over me. There was something else, too, undeniable and looming—a silent undercurrent of anticipation that was as delicious as it was intimidating. I'd not had anyone stay the night in over a year, hadn't wanted anyone to, but now I was practically leaping at the prospect of Cameron in my bed, eager for the kind of intimacy I'd never assumed we'd have.

"What should we do next?" he asked.

I considered, gaze moving over him and the still-damp ends of his hair. "How about a bath for you? Warm you up, relax a bit?"

"Fuck,this is perfect. I have no idea when the last time I took a bath was, and I definitely wouldn't use the bathtub at my place. God knows what's growing in there." Cameron rippled his hand through the water and then pushed his fingers through that shock of blond, slicking it back, making it go dark.

"I'm not sure I've ever used this tub," I admitted. Much like my dining room table, it had gone unused since I'd moved in. I leaned against the doorframe, studying Cameron. He'd dumped some shampoo in the tub, so there were a few sad bubbles floating around. But it did look warm and inviting.

"Do you want to come in? It's nice."

I nodded, shedding my clothes, aware Cameron was watching me as I did so. I wasn't particularly self-conscious of my body, but Cameron's gaze was so rapt that I slowed down, letting him enjoy the show as much as I enjoyed watching him. My cock stiffened under his attention, and I squeezed the shaft in my hand, a shudder running through my shoulders.

"Fuck, that's hot. You're hot. I could watch you undress all day, every day."

I chuckled and edged toward the tub, sparing an uncertain glance at the water. "I really don't think we're both going to fit."

"Oh, you'll fit. I promise." Cameron leered, and I laughed again, delighted his mood had improved enough to bring out his usual playfulness. It was one of my favorite things about him. Any lingering hesitation I had about demanding he come over earlier vanished.

Cameron wriggled around to make room for me, bending his knees and pulling my legs over his after I eased into the water. We just fit, though we were tangled together, and there wasn't much wiggle room. I stretched my arms out along the rim of the tub and let my head rest against the wall behind me.

Deep contentment washed over me, and impulse took hold. "Why don't you come with me to my sister's for the weekend, too? A little getaway. It'll be good for us both." Cameron's brows shot up, and maybe mine did, too. The invitation had skirted higher thought processes like logic and practicality, fueled by that damn smile. Never mind that my sister didn't have an idea I was seeing anyone in the slightest, much less a student. I blustered forward anyway. "I mean, if you're not on the schedule to work. It just sounds a bit lonely to remain here while all of your friends and roommates are gone."

"For real? I don't want to intrude or anything."

I sent a splash of water his way. "For the hundredth time, you're not intruding. I want you with me."

Cameron combed the water with his fingertips again, seeming to consider, and then said, "Alright, fuck it. Why not? A getaway sounds great."

We fell silent after that, enjoying the cocoon of warm water around us. Cameron leaned his head back against the opposing wall, closing his eyes, occasionally lifting a washcloth from the depths of the tub and squeezing it out over his chest. I let my eyes fall shut, too, listening to the drips and whoosh of water. After a while, the washcloth moved over my calf, and I cracked an eye, watching as Cameron dipped the cloth again and then rubbed it over my other calf.

"Mmm." My shoulders broke out in goose bumps as he continued, wetting the cloth, dripping it over the top of my knees, then brushing the hollows at the backs of them. Ankles, toes, the soles of my feet, and then up to my thighs. I focused on Cameron's face, how he concentrated, the way he bit at the corner of his lower lip, how his free hand dived below the water, shoulder moving slowly, rhythmically as he started stroking himself. When the washcloth reached the inside of my thighs and flicked lightly across my balls, I drew in a shaky breath.

Cameron looked up from beneath his lashes at me. "Feels good, huh?"

"God, yes."

Cameron trailed the washcloth up the length of my shaft, swirling it around the swollen crown, and then pulled it down the other side. I moaned, lifting my hips to chase that soft caress. Christ, the guy was going to get me off with a damn washcloth if he kept it up. That'd be a new one for me. My hips nudged forward, and Cameron wrapped the cloth around my cock loosely, the pressure of his fingers behind it light and teasing as he pumped my shaft. The friction was lacking, but the combination of nubby fabric and the smoothness of Cameron's fingers was exhilarating. Clenching my teeth, I exhaled another shaky breath as Cameron reached out and tugged gently on my balls, rolling his thumb over the soft skin and the hard knots beneath.

"Goddamn," I whispered.

"You have no idea." Cameron smirked. "Fuck, you're so sexy like this."

"Scoot closer. I want to see you touching yourself." I dropped one of my hands from the side of the tub and into the water, grasping the top of Cameron's thigh to urge him nearer. He complied by wiggling around and shifting onto his knees, then shuffling forward before sinking back on his heels. We were wedged in the tub pretty tightly, but now I had a better view of Cameron as he caressed his shaft. He used the closer proximity to dive the washcloth deeper into the water and drag it over the underside of my sac.

I felt my face contorting with pleasure and cuffed Cameron by the back of the neck, levering myself up a few inches to give him a slow, savoring kiss. His tongue danced with mine, licked the sides of my mouth, and dipped inside to the rhythm of his hand on my cock. Soft, slow, luxurious drags that sent ripples of ecstasy through my abdomen. I was helpless to resist and gave in to the temptation, reaching through the warm water to grasp Cameron's thigh again, then wrap around his hand as he worked his own cock. His resulting shiver made gentle waves on the water's surface. I took my time when his hand fell away, exploring his shape—the firm, plump head, the thick shaft. Just thinking about his cock inside me left me breathless, imagining how it would stretch me, remembering that sensation of being so full that there was no room for anything else, no other thought besides friction, besides pleasure, besides orgasm. I'd almost always topped, but I suddenly wanted, needed to feel him inside me. The desire hit me with the force of an anvil dropped from a roof.

I jerked Cameron slowly, steadily, eyes slitting as I watched his face transform, how he bit his lip, clenched his teeth, how his chest rose and fell in bursts that urged me on. He pushed the washcloth up my chest and rubbed it over my nipples until they were almost raw, but it was a pleasurable burn, an erotic one, and Cameron seemed to intuit that from the soft huffs of air coming from my mouth. He braced his hands on the side of the tub and leaned over me, the muscles of his arms popping out in stark relief and quivering with tension as he dropped his chin low to scrape his stubble over my chest before lapping at my hard nipples with his tongue.

I growled a noise of contentment and squeezed Cameron's cock to show my approval as he ground against me, needy little murmurs escaping his lips.

"I want you to fuck me," I rasped out.

Cameron lifted his head to give me a wide-eyed gaze. "Really? I kinda figured you—but yeah. Fuck yeah. Absolutely. I'd love to." It came out in a rush, and then he burst into laughter that struck me as adorably self-conscious. "I've never done that with another man before. Or anyone, actually."

"Think we may need to get out of the tub for that, though, before we compact ourselves into the porcelain."

We exited the tub carefully. Cameron stood on the bathmat and put a hand out as I reached for a towel hanging on a peg near the door. Instead of handing it over, I dropped to one knee and, starting with Cameron's feet, began to pat him dry, gently, tenderly, caressing the thin terry cloth over the taper of his ankles, up the slope of his calves. His body hair was light, almost nonexistent, the goose bumps that rose over his skin striking as I swabbed and swept him with the towel. His hand dropped to the top of my head and sifted through the strands there, stroking my temples as he said thoughtfully, "I don't think anyone has ever dried me off like this."

I felt a trill of pleasure at hearing that, in having done something no one else had. I aimed my smile at the ground when I replied, "I don't think I've ever dried anyone off like this either."

"I don't know if it's supposed to turn me on as much as it is." Cameron chuckled, then quieted abruptly as I reached his cock and teased its stiff length with rough, quick strokes of the towel. He gripped the edge of the sink as I leaned in and took his cock into my mouth, tasting clean, smooth flesh. I lapped at him, sucked his crown, flicked my tongue against his slit until I was rewarded with the flavor of his precum. Cameron tugged my hair impatiently, and when I sucked him down to the root, he moaned a quiet curse.

"You'd better finish drying me off fast because I'm close."

I gave him a few more languid sucks, then pulled off and stood, bending to meet his upturned mouth with my own when he reached to drape his arms around my shoulders. God, if he wasn't one of the kissiest guys I'd ever encountered. Not that I was complaining. He was a phenomenal kisser, all silky-tongued and sensual, with those damned lips that I wanted to sink my teeth into. I did right then, capturing his lower between my teeth, sucking, then scraping until he whimpered and his fingers curled into my shoulder blades, blunt nails gouging my skin.

I pulled back and took Cameron's hand. "Bedroom. Now."

I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Cameron to me, wrapping my hands around his thighs, kneading the muscles with my thumbs as I leaned closer to kiss the underside of his cock, and then lower on his sac. His muscles tensed beneath my palms as a breath whooshed from his lungs.

"I'm serious. I'm gonna lose it."

"I thought you had the age and stamina advantage here." I glanced up to see Cameron's lower lip pinched between his teeth. I pressed my lips together to tame the smile trying to break loose at how hard he was working to keep his composure. It felt so damn good to make him react the way he was. There was a thrilling power in it that I couldn't resist.

"Yeah, well, I guess not when there's a hot professor's ass involved." Cameron stroked his hand over my head, then traced from my hairline down to the tip of my chin. "I dunno. You just really do it for me. So…lube?"

"I've got it." I rose from the bed and dug around the nightstand drawer until I found the lube, stiff cock throbbing at the idea of Cameron inside me unsheathed, skin to skin. It was tantalizing enough to send me hastening back to the bed with the tube, which I dropped next to me before lying down on his stomach, resting my chin on my forearms.

A handful of seconds passed, and nothing happened. I had expected to feel Cameron's weight as he sank onto the bed behind me or straddled me. Craning a look over my shoulder, I found him standing there frozen, one hand loosely gripping his cock as he stared down at me.

Oh god, did he not want to fuck me now? Was it too much? "Everything okay?"

"Fuck." Cameron let out a laugh that sounded tinny. "I'm so damn nervous. God, this is embarrassing. I feel like such a noob. And then you spread out over the bed, and you're so…and the way you dried me off like you actually… It's just…nice. Really fucking nice." He drew in a deep breath and shook his head. "Ignore me. I really want this, and I want to make you feel so good that I'm stressing myself out about it."

I sat up in the bed, twisting around and moving to the edge so I could wrap my hands around Cameron's waist as I looked up and told him, "I don't want to ignore you. I don't think I could even if I did want to. And you're already making me feel good just standing there." I leaned forward and kissed his hip, the top of one thigh and then the other. Cameron sighed, his fingertips drifting through my hair and sending an eager shiver running down the back of my neck.

"I'm ready now, I think," Cameron whispered. "So ready."

I lay back down on my stomach, and this time, Cameron followed after me, kissing up my calves and the backs of my thighs, trailing a light touch over my ass cheeks. "I can't wait to feel you around me," he said softly.

Lube-slick fingers parted my cheeks and stroked over the sensitive ring of muscle that clenched reflexively at the wet chill. I spread my legs wider, giving Cameron more access, and he jerked his cock slowly while rubbing my back and squeezing one ass cheek at a time in his other. It felt so fucking good to be touched like that, gentle and reverent all at once, and I couldn't help the low moan that leaked from my lungs when he pressed a finger inside me.

His movements were exploratory and careful, tentative even, and though I wanted to combust from anticipation, I didn't want to hurry him along or make him more nervous than he already was. It was a pleasurable form of torture, and my muscles relaxed, welcoming the intrusion as Cameron added a second finger, stretching me with an intensity that had me gasping for my next breath. "That's perfect, baby, absolutely perfect."