Bowl Full of Cherries (14 page)

R
ELL
REACHED
out in the dark, his hand creeping across the damp wall. He fumbled for a second, a little freaked out that he might touch a spider or a roach, before finally finding the switch. He quickly flicked it upward, and light filled the large space. A groan escaped his lips.

“Jesus. It’s gotten worse.”

He’d thought the task was going to be impossible when the garage looked like he’d remembered. This was worse than ever.

“We’ve got to get that garage door open.”

“You want some help?” He looked over his shoulder to find Tyler standing there, the sleeves rolled up on his ridiculous Christmas sweater. He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t look sarcastic either.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I left your present in Avona anyway. Consider this your gift.”

“Okay, so… where do we start?”

The hipster with Rell’s face looked past him, into the murky garage, and sighed.

“I’m tired just looking at it.”

“Right?”

“We need some sort of cleaning engineer.”

By that point, other family members had gathered nearby. Sondra and Charley looked into the dauntingly cluttered garage.

“Looks like an episode of
Hoarders
.”

“You think anyone
died
in there?” Charley whispered.

“Possibly,” Tyler said.

“We should get started,” Rell said uncertainly.

“Aunt Katie is an interior decorator.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to help,” Tyler said, tapping his foot.

“You’re supposed to start with the big things, I think,” Sondra offered.

“I thought it was the small things. Get the little stuff out of the way?” Tyler asked.

“Why don’t we start by gathering the trash?”

There was a murmuring of agreement amongst the group, which had, by that point, grown by Crowley, Andy, and Jack.

“But what’s trash?” Rell asked.

“Well, the fast food bags are probably a given. What did Mom do? Just wad things up and toss them in here?”

“Hey, Andy, go get your mom.”

“She’s taking a nap.”

“What do you want with Jes, anyway?” Tyler asked his brother.

“I just figured she’d play drill sergeant. She’s the only reason I took my SATs.
Study! Study! Study!
”

“Okay, so we need trash bags….”

“Mom!” Rell hollered down the hall, “Where are the big trash bags?”

“In the garage!” she called back.

“Shit.”

“Mom says we’re not supposed to curse,” Charley informed him loftily.

Rell laughed and tousled Charley’s hair. “Well, I’m pretty sure this whole project is going to run on Mountain Dew and cursing, so you might want to go play.”

“No way!” she replied. “I bet there’s toys in there.”

“Guys?” Crowley’s voice was quiet in the din of competing arguments and conversation. “I think I’ve got an idea….”

At Crowley’s insistence, they formed a branching assembly line with Rell right in the thick of the junk. His job was to grab out of the pile, hand the object up to Tyler, who passed it back to Crowley, who decided whether to hand it to Charley if it was worth a second look or Andy if it was trash. Then Rell’s mother and Katie sifted through the okay things for things of value, sorting out the donations, and Andy and Jack filled bag upon bag with trash. The boys reveled in the disgusting things that came out of the garage and had to be told, on more than one occasion, to “throw it away!”

Rell passed back a gray tub full of cards.

Crowley’s eyes went wide. “Are these—?”

“Set them aside. If Mom sees them, she’s going to donate them and then I’ll be in a funk all weekend long.” He loved the way Crowley’s mouth turned up at the corners.

It was long, hard, hot work despite the open back door and the draft from the gap under the garage door. After an hour, though, they’d made a good-sized space on the cold concrete and filled the living room with things from their collective past. When Jes got up from her nap, she wandered into the fray and immediately began to look through hardbound spirals she’d filled in high school.

“You kept these?” she asked their mother, holding the book open to word art she’d done in India ink. She ran her fingers over the page, as if sweeping the memories off the dried ink and up into her fingertips. They found toys and photos and school papers. Clothing they’d meant to donate years ago and old checkbooks. Sondra offered to make a donation run, since aside from snapping pictures of them working, she hadn’t done anything to help.

They blasted Christmas music throughout the house and when donations had been separated from keepsakes and there was space in the living room, they went at it again—cleaning, clearing, sorting, and trashing, until, slowly, inch by inch, the garage floor emerged. By midafternoon, Rell’s back ached, but
by God
if they’d had a working garage door, they could have fit a full-sized SUV within the bay.

Sweat dripped into Rell’s eyes and when he wiped at his forehead, his dirty hands were smeared with wet grime. Emerging from the garage, he was certain that he’d streaked gray and brown all over his face. He felt alive, loving the camaraderie and teamwork and the sense of accomplishment.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he declared, stepping up into the house from the lowered floor of the garage.

“And I’m going to make something to eat,” his mother said, not looking up from the yellowed baby book in her lap. “In a minute.”

As he walked past, Rell touched Crowley’s cheek and let his finger drag across the freckled skin. There was a streak of grime left behind. Crowley seemed to melt. He relished the power he had to make the man smile.

Crowley followed along, tub of cards in hand, stopping outside the bathroom door.

“You coming in?”

“I shouldn’t,” Crowley murmured warmly. “Tyler might notice.”

“Tyler won’t care.”

“That his brother’s with a man?”

“Well, he won’t care about that. He’ll probably think I’m not good enough for you. At least I’m not a jock, though.”

Crowley’s lips twitched. “Did Tyler tell you about David?”

Who was David? Another guy Crowley had liked who’d treated him like ass? Jealousy twinged inside Rell.

“There’s a guy at his school. His name is David. He plays lacrosse and he likes Tyler.”

Relief flooded through Rell. Relief, and then humor. “Oh God, a
jock
likes Tyler? Jesus. I bet that sent him into orbit.”

“Pretty much. David even bought him a gift.”

“Was it recycled? Upcycled?”

“It’s a gift card.”

“Shit.”

“To Target.”

Rell couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“He’s a nice guy, too,” Crowley said quietly, running his finger over the ridges in Rell’s T-shirt, sending pleasure through Rell’s body. Each ridge he pressed down caused another little fabric mountain to form. “It’s painful.”

“Let’s not talk about Jackass Jones anymore right now, okay?” Rell asked, stealing a gentle kiss.

A
FTER
HE
’
D
soaped and rinsed away every ounce of sweat and grime, Rell walked to his bedroom, towel wrapped around his waist. He’d been tempted to handle a particular
issue
that had come up in the shower. But he was amped and excited, and doing it solo seemed lonely when Crowley was right there in his bedroom.

Crowley’s head was turned down when Rell silently shut the door. His dark roots showed clearly, his face framed by a curtain of beautiful curls. He was sorting through the stacks upon stacks of
Rain Queen
cards. He’d spread them out around him like petals of a flower, and he was the gorgeous center. Rell could have stared at him all day.

When Crowley caught sight of Rell, still damp, the towel slung low on his hips, the flush that came into Crowley’s cheeks was the most flattering thing Rell had ever seen.

“You want to see more?” He was teasing now, tugging at the edge of the towel like he might expose himself. Crowley nodded, very slowly.

“You’ll be the first guy to ever see my junk, y’know,
like this
. I’m hesitant, though. You did laugh at me when we were in the bathroom at the Nook.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I’m just giving you hell, Owl.”

He kept his eyes on Crowley’s face, slowly peeling back the towel. Crowley stared with unabashed fascination.

“W-wow. You’re… amazing.”

“Am I?” He wasn’t being a jackass, he just didn’t know. He didn’t think he looked that great. He liked to hike and he did crunches and push-ups sometimes, when he remembered, but it wasn’t as if he’d dedicated himself to a fitness regime, and he definitely didn’t do yoga twice a day, seven days a week like Tyler. If Crowley liked hard-muscled jocks, well, Rell wasn’t that. “I played soccer in high school. I was way better looking then.”

“I wish I looked like you.”

“I like the way you look, Owl.”

“I like when you call me that, you know?” His voice was soft.

“Owly.”

“I like that too. Wish I had a nickname for you.”

“‘Rell’
is
a nickname.”

“That’s why I need something different,” Crowley said. “Something special just for you. Maybe I’ll call you by your full name—”

“No, no, no. Mom does that. Makes me feel like I’m in trouble.”

“Are you sure…
Averell
?”

A shock of pleasure went up Rell’s spine as he heard his full name on Crowley’s lips. It probably didn’t hurt that Crowley said it on a lusty whisper. Goddamn. “I really thought that was going to remind me of Mom.”

“But it doesn’t…?
Averell
.”

“Jesus. Can I kiss you?”

“Is the door locked?”

“Doesn’t lock. Say it again.”

“Averell.”

“God.”

“Averell.”

“
God
damn.”

“Averell?”

Rell stepped over the piles of cards and fell onto the trundle bed. It creaked under his weight, protesting the aggressive pounce. He was completely naked, splayed out on the bed for Crowley’s pleasure or use or all of it.

“Get up here,” Rell said. “I promise we won’t go too far if you’re not ready.”

Crowley froze. “How can you promise that? You’re totally naked.”

Very slowly he took the edge of Crowley’s covers and pulled them up just high enough so his delicate bits were covered. He grinned. Crowley got up in bed with him, pressed against him, kissed him.

“Jesus,” Crowley murmured hotly. The kisses deepened, breath mingling, tongues sliding, dancing together. “Wow.”

“We can stop,” Rell lied as he caught his breath between kisses. He’d try if Crowley said “stop” but it might involve running out in the snow bare-ass naked. He wondered if he had any condoms in his drawer or in the closet. His mother might have some under her sink—though he didn’t want to think about why that might be. Too damn far away, anyway.

“No,” Crowley argued, holding tightly to him, fingers digging into Rell’s bare skin. Each fingertip was like acupuncture going straight to his cock. “No, I don’t want to stop, it’s just…. Do you mind if I keep my clothes on?”

Rell did mind. He wanted Crowley completely naked. He wanted to kiss every part of him. He wanted to explore his skin, find all the secret, hidden places. He wanted Crowley in every way.

“Uh….” He didn’t know what to make of it, but Crowley asked so straightforwardly. “I mean, we’re going to have to lose some of the clothes if you want to… well, I don’t know, how far did you want to go?”

His head was spinning. He was eager, and that eagerness circumvented the fact that while Rell Lang understood the mechanics, he’d never actually done what they (God willing!) were about to do. What if he wasn’t any good at it? What if he couldn’t give Crowley pleasure? What if—?

“Far,” Crowley breathed. “As far as you want.”

Eagerness.

“All the way?”

“Definitely.”

Thrilled, Rell’s worries evaporated. It wasn’t that he was any more prepared for the mechanics, but the blood he needed for thinking and worrying was now elsewhere. “I can shove a chair under the knob; no one will walk in on us. You can get undressed.”

“I know,” he agreed, placing wicked, distracting kisses on Rell’s neck. “But I still just don’t want you to, y’know, see me.”

“Naked?” Rell asked. Here was Rell, naked as the day he was born and here was Crowley, offering Rell unlimited access to his mouth and his ass, but he didn’t want to be seen naked? His aching member reminded him there was sex to be had and that he was about to botch it. So Rell leaned into another kiss. “All right,” he said.

Crowley pushed Rell back against the bed, and began to kiss him. His lips, his chin, his neck, trailing kisses lower and lower. He kissed his ribs, his bellybutton. And it made Rell crazy. And frustrated in that phenomenally sexy way. He grabbed Crowley and pulled him on top of him, still clothed, rubbing himself against the rough fabric that covered Crowley’s crotch.

Crowley had just leaned over into a long, delicious kiss when Rell, stupid with lust, slipped his hand up the front of Crowley’s shirt, running his fingers over his soft stomach. Crowley groaned as Rell tweaked a nipple.

He started to push up Crowley’s shirt with his free hand. He wasn’t thinking about anything except his need to touch Crowley all over.

He felt Crowley tense before he saw it. Felt all the muscles in his body go stiff, and not in the sexy way he’d been pulsing and tensing before.

“What?” Rell asked, concerned.

“I just, I dunno, I’m nervous.”

“Even just taking your shirt off?”

Crowley started to quiver underneath Rell’s touch. Gently at first and then faster, until he was practically vibrating.

“Owl?”

“I-I….”

His eyes were glassy, far-off, his mouth tight, his face pale. He looked like he was going to be sick. Rell did the only thing he knew how to do in situations like this (which, incidentally, he’d never been in before). He grabbed Crowley and rolled with him so that Crowley was on his back and Rell—naked—was off the bed on his knees.