Bad Things (50 page)

“
Would you…”

He couldn’t just say it, standing there in the middle of the living room. Hell, they hadn’t kissed. They hadn’t even hugged.

“I had sex with someone yesterday.”

How did he make his face completely blank like that? Eyes perfectly dark. Impenetrable.

“Completely random, unplanned stranger sex, in the middle of the afternoon.”

“
Were you safe?” As soon as he asked, Xavier looked ashamed.

“
Yes. Of course.”

“
Good. And good, that you had a new experience.” He sounded sincere, if a little sad.

“
It was one of the most depressing things that’s happened to me in years.”

Four years. Since he’d last gone to bed with a woman, and mid-screw, had completely lost the ability to pretend that he had any desire to fuck her. Finishing, after the Kool-Aid had worn off, had been excruciating. Fucking someone, while feeling utterly despicable.

“I’m sorry. It’ll keep getting better.”

“
It wasn’t depressing because I’m relapsing. It was depressing, because all I wanted, the whole time I was with him, was to be with you.”

Face blank again. “Carson—”

“I know. I know we can’t. But please, Xavi…”

“
It’s okay. Just ask.”

“
Please, can we have one more night together? Tonight?”

Carson thought maybe he saw a tremor ripple through Xavier’s shoulders. “That’s a bad idea.”

“I just…God, I never got to make love to you. I was even ready, for days before we ended things. But I thought we had time.” He took a couple deep breaths, and managed to keep the tears back. “And now, when I think about us, there’s this Goddamned hole, this empty space.”

“
I regret it, too. But I can’t do that with you, without letting you back in. And I don’t think you can, either.”

“
I know. I’m sorry. I knew it was too much to ask. It was selfish of me. I just…the idea of doing that with anyone but you…I don’t want my first time to be sad and empty, like I felt yesterday while that guy was fucking me.”

Xavier touched his jaw, made him look up and meet his eyes. “Carson, I’m not guarding my heart. I’m trying to be careful with yours.”

Fuck, that hurt his feelings.

“
Because, what?” Shit, he hated how fucking petulant he sounded. “You’re so over it, it’s just the same to you, either way?”

“
No. Of course not.”

“
Then what’s with the bravado?”

“
It’s not bravado. Just, I haven’t started getting over…us, so there’s nothing to undo.”

“
Well neither have I.”

God fucking damn it. He shouldn’t have spoken. He knew he was about to lose it, and now he was standing there with tears sliding down his fucking face. The one thing he’d promised, sworn to himself he wouldn’t do if Xavier let him in.

Xavier’s blank mask dissolved, and he moved to put his arms around him, but Carson pulled back and turned away. Fuck. He should have been still. But it was embarrassing. Humiliating. Coming begging, then bursting into tears.

“
Carson.” Xavier’s arms around him. God. That familiar strength. His warmth. The scent of him. His touch just made everything hurt more, made it impossible to stop crying.

Xavier sighed and hugged him tighter. “
Cariño
.”

Carson felt the familiar warm press of Xavier’s kiss in his hair. That soothing stroking, then his fingertips combing gently over his scalp. Lips on his forehead, at his temple. Xavier touching his chin, making him lift his face so he could kiss his lips. God. Oh, God. That kiss. His taste. That palpable hunger, even when he was being his most gentle.

Xavier pulled back, and Carson braced himself. Now Xavier would tell him to go, and he’d have to walk out that door again.

“
You have to give me a few minutes.”

Xavier went into the bathroom and closed the door. A few minutes later, the shower started running. When he came out, Xavier took Carson’s hand, led him to the bedroom and slowly undressed him, kissing every inch of skin as he bared it. Then he let Carson pull the towel from around his hips.

Carson had missed the feel of Xavier so much. The heat of him. The taut, trembling energy that seemed to hum through Xavier more than anyone he’d ever touched. The taste of his skin. His hungry kiss. His greedy grasping of his hair, pulling him closer.

Lying in bed, they held themselves in trembling check. Touching lightly. Lingering for minutes, just stroking over the contours of muscle and sinew of a bent arm, tracing along a hair line with a fingertip. Memorizing the planes and sleek slopes of chest, of belly. Stretching out each minute, each second together as long as mortally possible.

Even if it meant he could never make love to him, never transgress past the safety of his paler, less sensitive flesh, Carson would have eagerly, gratefully stayed like that forever with Xavier. Just whispering to each other, looking at each other. God, that smile. But his gaze was still strangely opaque. That was so unfamiliar, it hurt.

“
Xavi?”

A soft kiss. Then, his full attention.

“Please. Really look at me.”

Again, Xavier made himself blank. So blank, so cold, Carson cooled in a panic. He’d asked too much. Xavier’s slow, even, deep breaths. Finally Xavier softened. Even his mask, even his gaze faintly came through that opaque veil, now.

“I wanted to try…” Xavier sighed. “But no. We can’t do this without hurting each other.”

Xavier was right. The way he was looking at Carson, now, was excruciating. His dark eyes like two deep, vast chasms, filled up, flowing over with love, and all Carson wanted was to let himself fall into the abyss, to sink down and be lost there forever. But all he was allowed to do, was come near, and look for a little while, from the edge. And then, he’d have to leave with nothing but a memory.

Maybe he saw Carson’s feeling of terrible loss in his eyes. Of course he had. Xavier gave him a sad smile, and kissed his lips. Pulled him to him, caressing, kissing, holding him tight.

Then, trying to efface his pain, both of their pain, with pleasure. Real, hungry kisses. Rousing touches. Fingertips. Tongue. Lips and teeth.

They drew this out, too. Provoking, relenting. Teasing and tormenting until neither of them could wait any more.

Lying on top of Xavier, their radiant, damp torsos pressed together, hips nestled in the V of Xavier’s thighs, cock nuzzled up against his hole, Carson hesitated. He wasn’t afraid, this time. He just wanted to suck this moment dry. Memorize it with every cell of his body. The feel of Xavier’s humid hair, still slightly damp from his shower and with sweat from their exertions. The rhythm of his breaths, lifting and lowering Carson like gentle waves.

And Xavier’s eyes, his gaze pulling Carson in with the force of a black hole, waiting to envelop him in that vast, all-consuming love.

That deepening, that expanding of Xavier’s devouring gaze as Carson carefully shifted and slowly pushed inside of him. Oh, God. God, the feel of his body. The feeling of that look enveloping him, safe and loved.

Xavier’s lips parting, breath rising up in a softly voiced sigh. Brows knitting.

“
Am I hurting you? Should I do something differently?”

Such a tender smile. “No,
cariño
. You’re not hurting me. You’re perfect. You feel fucking incredible.”

Under his body, Carson could feel Xavier’s trembling strain. Not pain. His quivering, held-back hunger.

Moving, held tight in Xavier’s body, held close in his arms, suspended in the forever of his gaze, the pleasure was too much. Too much to believe. Too much to bear. Not just physical, but like his soul was being caressed and kissed.

“
God, I love you, Xavi,” he sighed.

It had just come out of him, as if something inside of him had chosen to speak, without asking him, first. He shouldn’t have. He was already demanding too much of Xavier.

But Xavier gave him another tender smile, combed his fingers into his hair, cradled his face. “I love you, too.”

A sweet, deep but slow kiss. Wet and slippery. Sliding. Sucking. Nursing.

Fuck. He pulled out.

Soft kisses across his forehead. Over his cheek. “Don’t worry. We’ll just kiss for a while, and try again,” Xavier said with sweet patience.

Carson laughed. “I’m not losing my hard-on. I’m just getting too close, too soon. I need to stop for a second.”

Such a radiant smile. He loved seeing Xavier so happy. Exuberant.

“Draw it out all you want. I’m in heaven. But we have all night. Don’t torture yourself because you think you only get one shot at this.”

All night? Hours and hours stretched out in his imagination, like a dying man who’d just been granted a brand new life. They had hours together. Hours of kissing, of touching Xavier’s body, being touched and held and made love to.

“I want to feel you come while I’m inside you,” Carson said.

Teasing grin. “Well. That’ll be easy.”

And it was. Fuck. Like all Xavier had to do was stop holding himself back, and all Carson had to do was ease himself back inside of him, and move. Still cautious, terrified of hurting him by being clumsy or careless. Even reining himself in, barely letting himself pump, he was right back at the edge. But Xavier was sighing and clutching at him with every kiss, and when he started touching his cock, Xavier growled and bit his pec so hard it hurt. A lot. The pain surged down his body and twisted his balls with violent pleasure.

“
Fuck, Xavi. Fuck, I can’t—”

He was clinging by a thread, but Xavier pumped into his hand, three long, slow strokes, and came, hissing and clawing and biting.

Thank God. Oh God. Restraint crumbling, Carson’s climax crashed down over him, blinding him, drowning him.

Like waking up, after. Like he’d been gone. Groping his way through the dark, back to consciousness.

Xavier trailed his fingers up and down the length of Carson’s back, almost tickling over his ass. Warm breath and a lingering kiss on the crown of his head. That gaze, still naked and vastly deep. And then a penetrating, lasting kiss.

This. This was everything. He’d stay like this forever, if Xavier would let him.

They rested, holding each other. They talked and teased each other. They laughed.

Then kissed. Touched. Roused each other all over again, not holding back this time, everything building up to such a desperate pitch that when it finally happened, Xavier took him more brutally than ever before, not tying him up, but lashing him down with his own hands, his own limbs, his own weight until Carson was helpless to move, except to groan his strain, his overwhelming, breath-stealing, mind-blanking pleasure.

They gasped for breath in each other’s arms. They cuddled. They slept. They woke.

They made love again, one last time, Xavier taking him so gently, watching him so closely, kissing him so deeply and tenderly, Carson felt like his heart was fucking breaking even while he came. And fuck, in those beautiful, terrible moments after, when he was sated and so present, he felt every flex of Xavier’s body, every tiny, sweaty slip of skin against skin, felt the slightest sigh against his cheek. And all the way deep down in the dark of Xavier’s gaze, Carson saw all the love that was there for him. All that love that Xavier wouldn’t, or couldn’t give anymore. It felt like fucking suicide, agreeing to let it go.

But he held Xavier’s love-filled gaze as he came, held him in his arms as Xavier cried out his climax, kissed his quivering lips, caressed his trembling arms, finally at the limit of their strength after a whole night of fucking, of holding Carson down, holding himself up.

For a long time they were quiet. Still. Just holding each other.

Soon, Carson would make himself get up. He’d force himself to slip out of that warm embrace that made him feel safe and loved. Safer, more loved than he’d felt in his whole life.

He tried not to think about that awful moment, looming closer and closer. He wanted to relish these last minutes with Xavier. To just be.

But his mind kept wandering, just like it had, over and over, every day the past three weeks. Searching in the murky dark for all the moments, all the words, the looks that somehow added up to a reason why Xavier couldn’t be with him.

He kept thinking about the seven trees—Xavier’s latest tattoo creation, reworked again and again, struggling for the ideal balance between what was sick, and what thrived. Between rot and vitality, death and life.

With a fingertip, he traced the undulating body of Xavier’s Aztec dragon; his strength, his goodness. The nemesis of the monstrous squid, tentacles probing and transgressing its crumbling encasement.

“
Xavi?”

Xavier met his eyes, but as soon as he recognized that there was a dark and serious question behind that murmuring of his name, the bottom rose up from the deep well of his gaze, until it was shallow, impenetrable, and in an instant, there was no seeing beyond the surface, hard and reflective as wet stone.