A red tainted Silence (74 page)

He leaned over me, hands on my shoulders, and shook his head. “You’re exhausted.

Brandon will sleep until tomorrow, and Lee will stay and watch over him. I’m taking you home, feeding you, putting you to bed. Understand?”

“You can’t tell me what to do, Jon --”

“Yes I can. He’s my brother, Nicholas, and you are the most important person in the world to him.” He smiled. “And I’ll be damned if I let you collapse, too, and have him blame me. Understand?”

I looked down at the closed computer, at the secrets buried in it. Thought about what Brandon had written, how disjointed it was, yet oh, so revealing. So much hurt, so much pain -- I really couldn’t take it anymore. Not today. I nodded.

The computer was taken away. Lee’s hand found mine, and he hauled me to my feet.

Jon grabbed my coat, helped me on with it and zipped me up like I was a little child, then plunked my knit cap over my head.

I hated that thing, but let him do it. “Come on, Nicholas. Let’s get you home. We’ll bring the computer with us, and we’ll read more later, okay?”

“Since protesting is proving useless, I guess okay.” He grinned. “Good boy.”

Lee opened the door. “Jeff,” he called, and my bodyguard was there waiting. “Take him home. I’m going to stay with Brandon.”

“Hold on,” I said. I walked over to Brandon, studied his still, quiet face. So pale, he’d not seen the sun in so long. He’d lost all that tan he had. I remembered how he’d looked when I’d gone to see him, so golden, so blond, his hair down to his shoulders. He’d cut it since then. Next time I saw him, when he saved me, it was the shortest I’d ever seen it, almost buzzed to his scalp. It’d looked pretty weird, but I hadn’t cared -- Brandon had come for me.

“I love you so much,” I whispered to him, then bent over and pressed my lips to his, hating how cold and still they were. How I longed for those eyes of his to open and look at me and for him to grin and say, “Hey, Nick!”

But they didn’t.

I felt Jon’s hand on my shoulder. “Come on, Nicholas. He’s safe.” For now.

Seconds later I was on the elevator, Jon at my side, holding my arm with one hand as if I’d try to escape back to Brandon (thought about it), my computer with the other hand; Jeff 438

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behind us. The elevator lurched and I closed my eyes, leaning on Jon’s shoulder. He wrapped his arm around me and squeezed me tight.

“It’ll be okay, Nick.”

I sighed as the elevator door’s opened.

“Will it, Jon? Will it ever be okay again?”

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But he came anyway. Found me at my parents’ house, where I went to visit them for Jon’s birthday even though he didn’t want me there, didn’t want to see me or talk to me.

Adam was there, too, and he talked to me. But Nicholas came -- oh, my God, he came, and he called the house and said, “Come get me at the airport.” And I did. Oh, God forgive me, I did.

“Thanks for picking me up.”

“Uh, yeah, no problem,” I said as I tossed his single piece of luggage onto the back seat.

I opened the door for Nicholas and he slid in, his usually so expressive blue eyes not betraying what he was thinking. I closed the door and walked over to the driver’s side, hesitating before I got in. Come on, he just wants a ride home.

Yeah, right.

I got in the car, started the engine, and pulled out of the parking space. Nicholas stayed silent, staring out the window, his expression thoughtful when I stole a glance at him.

Pensive even. I was glad he wasn’t talking. I could barely breathe, much less say anything.

He looked tired, his face unshaven, his skin pale and ghostly compared to mine, especially now. His hair was a mess. He looked like he hadn’t slept well in days. I knew, of course, his frustrations about everything with his new album were getting to him, but it worried me just how haggard he looked.

I had no idea right then that I, not his album, was the cause of his pain.

As I came up to the crossroad that would either lead us to a hotel or my own house and I prepared to go left, he said, “Turn right.”

“Sorry?” I said, confused. “Don’t you want to check into a hotel?” 440

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He looked at me then, his expression as grim as I’d ever seen it. “I don’t want to see a hotel, Brandon. I came to see you.”

I looked away, a rush of heat running down my spine, pooling in my stomach. Lower.

My stomach clenched. I turned right and headed for my beach house.

None of the idle chit-chat I’d expected took place. No “How you doing, Brandon?” or

“Hey, I’ve never seen your hair so long, so blond” or even “Hey, you look like shit, Brandon, why are you trying to kill yourself?” He didn’t say a word, and I found myself wishing he would. I felt like I would explode.

“Why?” I finally burst out.

He cast me a somewhat smug smile. “I came to prove to you that you still love me.” He reached over then, touched me on the ear. “That you never stopped.” My ear burned. When his hand dropped and he sighed, so sad, I gulped and stared straight ahead, wishing we’d get out of the car, away from the confined intimacy, and yet terrified of arriving at my house. There he would see all of me, the man I’d become, and the thought terrified me.

You never stopped.

I did. I did love him, and fool that I was, I knew I was going to let him prove it. I was helpless to prevent it now that he was here. Did I hide the tape well enough? Will he find it?

Will he start digging around while I’m in the shower or --

No, no, no, he couldn’t stay there. Maybe I could convince him there was nothing to prove, to let me take him to a hotel, let him do with me what he wanted and then he’d leave.

He’d be safe.

We arrived at my beach house. I started to say, “Hey, maybe you’d rather stay at a hotel,” but Nicholas gave me another of those looks. One of those “I know what you’re going to say and forget it” looks, hopped out, grabbed his luggage out of the back, and headed for the front door.

I bolted out of the car, not even bothering to lock it, and ran after him. He half-turned as I approached the door, the key in my hand. He looked up at me, a ghost of a smile on his face.

“Here,” I said, hesitating, waiting for him to move out of the way, give me room so I wouldn’t touch him while opening the door. But he didn’t. He just stood there, waiting, so I finally gave a huff of exasperation and stood next to him and unlocked the door. I pushed it open, held it so he could go in ahead of me.

“Nice, Brandon,” he said as he set his suitcase down and walked into the living room.

“Very comfortable.”

“We’re comfortable here,” I said, feeling a little jolt as he stared at me. “I mean, well, Jenn was living with me. But she isn’t anymore.” He smiled faintly then. “Yeah, I heard she got married.” A Red-Tainted Silence

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“She’s pregnant, too.”

“She happy?”

I set my keys down. “Yeah, very.”

He nodded. “Good. I’m glad. Give her my love, won’t you? I’ll send the baby a present.

Maybe ... I saw this huge teddy bear at F.A.O. Schwartz a few months ago.” I laughed. “You still going there?”

He grinned, flopping down on my couch. “Of course. If they had season passes, I’d get one. You know me.”

“Yeah, I do. Want some water?”

“I’m thirsty, yes. Thanks.”

I headed for the kitchen, feeling a little more comfortable. This was going to be okay. I opened the refrigerator and pulled out two cold bottles of water, grimacing at all the Corona in there. He wouldn’t see it, though; I’d make sure of it. I could handle this, let him say what he had to say, then call him a cab --

“Hey.”

I whirled around. He stood directly behind me. He glanced inside the refrigerator, his eyes widening a bit, but he didn’t say anything, just held out his hand.

“What?”

He smirked. “Water?”

“Oh, yeah.”

I handed it to him. He opened it, then raised the bottle to his lips and drank half of it. I stared at him, unable to stop myself. And, damn it, he noticed. Waggled his eyebrows, then set the bottle and the cap down.

“I’m pretty rank. Mind if I take a shower?”

“Sure. No problem.” I escaped the kitchen. He followed behind, and I went into my bedroom, the master bath. Too late I thought, You should’ve taken him to Jenn’s old room!

Her bathroom! I cleared my throat. “Uh, there you go. You can use my shampoo and stuff, if you need to.”

“I’ve got some in my suitcase.”

“I’ll get it for you.” I darted out of the room before he could say anything else. By the time I got back, he’d closed the bathroom door and the shower was running. I set the suitcase down, knocked on the door, and said, “It’s outside the door.” No sound.

Not knowing what else to do, I left the bedroom, tried not to imagine him, naked and alone in the shower. I went into the living room and sat on the couch, closing my eyes, to wait for him to come out.

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* * * * *

I opened my eyes. Gasped. “Nicholas!”

He stood before me, a towel in one hand, his face freshly shaved, his hair still wet, and the rest of him naked.

And fully aroused.

Heat cascaded through me. I moaned as my groin swelled. The look in my eyes must’ve reassured him because he smiled then, tossed the towel on the coffee table, and, without saying a word, straddled me. I instinctively reached my hands to his hips and leaned my head back. My face was hot; my entire body thrummed. He knew me, knew me so damn fucking well. Don’t give me time to talk, to think, to excuse. Just do it.

Pressing me back with his hands so I couldn’t escape -- I didn’t want to escape -- he bent his head to mine and brushed his lips over mine, just like he had before, always had before, teasing me, those warm, soft lips of his capturing mine, possessing me with their insistence.

“Open for me, Brandon,” he whispered.

And, God help me, I did.

His tongue, hot and sweet, dove into my mouth, lazily mating with mine. He strained against me, wiggling himself tighter against me. All the last bitter months, all the fear, fled from me and I became mindless, became once again his, the grateful receiver of the incredible gifts Nicholas gave me.

His kisses grew harder, more demanding. I met them even as I yielded to him, so sweet, oh, God, it felt so good to give myself to someone again, to him. To feel his kisses hard against my mouth, his hands cradling my face, his lips tracing my jaw line, giggling softly at my beard. His hands sank into my hair, pushing it back from my face, chuckling at how long it’d grown. Nearly to my shoulders by then.

I stared up at the ceiling as his mouth continued exploring me. My heart raced; my breath grew rapid; my chest heaved. Yet all I could do was sit there and take it, my hands still holding his hips as with his mouth he undid all my pain.

“Brandon,” he murmured against my neck.

At the sound of my name, I finally moved, pushed him back. He sat back on my legs, concern in his eyes, waiting I knew for the rejection, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t. I’m sorry --

“Help me with my shirt,” was all I said.

He smiled, and together we took it off. He ran his hands up my chest, tweaking my nipples as he knew I liked. He smiled in appreciation. “Golden boy.” A Red-Tainted Silence

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“Been outside a lot.”

“I can tell.”

I ran my hands over his chest, thumbing his nipples. He arched back, letting out a moan of pleasure. I pulled him to me, took one nipple into my mouth, tonguing it into a hardened nub as he bucked against me. I thrust against him, my cock hard and hot, straining against my jeans.

“Brandon, please, I want inside you.”

I pulled back, nodded. So long, it’s been so long. He got off me and I stood. Somehow we got my jeans off. I fell back on the couch, and he shoved me into place, how he wanted me.

“Lube?”

“I --” Oh, fuck. “Bedside table drawer.”

He nodded, his eyes clouding for a moment, but now wasn’t the time to discuss the reasons for why I had any in the first place. I closed my eyes, put my hand over my face --

he’d find the lube, and a half-used box of condoms. Briefly I wondered if he’d grab one, too. I should’ve insisted, he should’ve. But when he came back, only one thing was gripped in his hand.

Then he was on top of me again. He pushed one of my legs over the back of the couch; the other I held up. He knelt between my legs, a soft, mysterious smile on his face as he looked at me, flagrantly opening myself to him. Just as I used to. I thought he’d say something, but he didn’t. The only sounds were our harsh breathing and the faint sound of the surf beating against the shore.

He flipped the lube open, coating his fingers. I reached out and stopped him. He looked at me in surprise.

“Not necessary. Just get inside me, Nick. Please.” He nodded, wiped the gel on his cock, and, holding my gaze with his own, gently guided himself inside me.

Oh, my God, he still wants me. Nicholas still wants me, even after all I’d done to him --

I cried out, pain skittering through me as he breached me.

“So tight,” he murmured as he gently thrust into me. I pushed against him until finally he was in inside me. “You okay?” he asked, his breath warm as it brushed against my cheek.

“Yes, yes, Nick, fuck me, fuck me hard. Please.” He thrust into me, slow at first, then harder. I could barely contain myself, the pain laced with the pleasure as he expertly hit my prostate over and over again. I started to shake, could barely hold my leg up anymore, had to let it drop, but he didn’t protest the awkwardness, his angle sharp and hard as he possessed me, fucked me, made me his once again.

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I held him, my beautiful, amazing lover, as he came inside me, his cries mingling with my own as I, too, came, digging into his stomach, feeling a rush of love and wonder for this incredible man. But as we lay on the couch, him still inside me, on top of me, as our breathing slowly settled and our hearts calmed, the darkness crept into my awareness again.