Crash: M/M Straight to Gay First Time Romance (12 page)

Liam

              I feel like a lunatic, standing in Reid’s doorway, watching him sleep. Buster is sleeping in my spot, his head resting on Reid’s chest. Sensing my presence, he opens his eyes, yawns and blinks at me before resettling in my spot, sending a canine fuck you to the cripple stalking him and his master. I have never hated an animal more than I hate that happy mutt right now.

              Honestly, I don’t know why the hell I am here. We didn’t speak again after he delivered dinner. I can bathe myself these days, so there is no need for him to help me get ready for bed. He obviously doesn’t want to speak to me. But I can’t sleep. I am worried. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want Ruairi to hurt him. I don’t want to tell him I am Liam Hasker. I seem to be running out of options. I have to let something go, and the thing I fear most is that I will end up losing Reid before I ever have a chance to see what we could be.

              “Are you just going to stand there and grind your teeth, or are you getting into bed?” His voice sounds clear as a bell as if he has been awake the whole time. The asshole!

              “You and Buster look so well suited to each other I didn’t want to interfere,” I say, turning on my heel and limping away. My legs still hurts like hell, and I have another pt session tomorrow, which promises to be as soul crushing and agonizing as the last one. I can feel my face twisting into a scowl as I think about it.

              “You made the trip all the way here just to turn back?” He is standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but his underwear. The moonlight from the window embraces his silhouette and makes his disheveled appearance seem sexy and dangerous.

              “I made the trip to see if you were okay. You seemed upset when you left, so I thought you might want to talk or something. You seem to be okay, so I can go back to bed.” I continue walking. Even if I am dying inside, I won’t show him.

              “Then I am going to sleep with you.” His voice sounds closer to me than it was, and I turn just in time to see him push past me and walk to my room.

I roll my eyes. The jerk could at least offer to help me back to my room. On the other hand, his butt looks so cute twitching down the hallway. I choke on a smile as I hobble after him. When I get back to my bedroom, he is stretched out on his side like the cover of a cheap romance novel. I glower at his cheesy display.

“I hope you aren’t expecting a repeat of last night. Every muscle hurts,” I complain, exaggerating my limp for the sake of gaining sympathy. It works.

“Let me help you,” he whispers, rolling my body over so that I am lying on my stomach. With strong hands he massages my shoulders and back, easing the tension of the day and breaking down my defenses. Time passes, and we don’t talk. In the darkness and the silence that surrounds us, I remember all of the things that I once loved about him. I remember the way his shoulders would round and bend as he struggled to copy homework assignments before turning them in. I remember that he was the only one who ever noticed when a rowdy classmate would trip the sweaty, silent kid trying to hide in a crowd. I remember how he would help me to my feet, jerking me up off of the floor and patting my head like I was a member of his circle of friends.

I also remember the boy who would wander into class, eyes glassy and unfocused, and spend hours not speaking. Those were the moments that hurt me the most. Seeing him broken and unhappy only made me love him more. I don’t think I could have loved him if he was always happy and in control. He wouldn’t have been so special if he had been perfect in every way. It was his flaws, his deep and abiding undeniable flaws, that made me love him from afar. Silently.

“I could love you,” I whisper, drowsiness making me forget that he can hear me.

“Me too.”

His hands moved lower, easing the tension in my lower back and thighs. I groan as the muscles protest and then uncoil under his magic touch.

“Why?” The last time I knew somebody loved me, wholeheartedly and without reservation, was the night my parents died. Since then, nobody ever has. Why would Reid be any different?

“Because you need somebody to love, and I need somebody to love me. And because I need somebody to love, and you need somebody to love you.”

“I’m not a nice person,” I say.

“I gave up any hope of being with somebody nice a long time ago. I don’t deserve nice. I deserve somebody who is going to make me crazy,” he chuckles softly.

“I make you crazy?”

“In all of the best ways. Look at me. At no point in my life did I ever think I would end up sitting in my underwear massaging a half-naked man.”

We both laugh.

“I am sorry about this afternoon. I didn’t mean to push. I understand that there are things you want to leave in the past. I am just trying to protect you from my insane family. I don’t want to lose you, Reid.”

His hands work their magic on my legs, pulling at the knotted muscles and pressing on my pressure points to encourage blood flow. Every moment of discomfort is obliterated by a soothing tingling sensation all over my body. I roll over and sit up, looking him in the eye, searching for something behind their hazel depths that I can depend on and believe in.

“You won’t lose me. Not to Clarissa or Ruairi or anybody else. I told you, I am a man who is trying to die without regrets. If I walk away from you without putting up a fight, I will spend the rest of my life regretting it.” He says his words like a solemn oath and seals the deal with a kiss.

He brushes his lips against mine, seeking my hands in the tangle of nearly forgotten blankets. His fingers intertwine with mine, and I am sure that everything in the history of human existence has been leading to this moment. There is nothing about kissing Reid Cummings that is unpleasant or doubtful. There is nothing about us that is restrained or forced. Touching him is an inescapable fate, so I let him kiss me until I forget to breathe. Even when my lungs scream for air and my body feels weightless, I am reluctant to stop. I pull away first, catching my breath as his other hand caresses my face.

“Why don’t we?” I ask, kissing his palm.

“What?”

I swallow hard and try to focus enough to answer this question well.

“Why don’t you let yourself love me? You love me, and I will love you.” I will let myself love you
again
. That is what I want to say. Instead, I sit and watch as strong emotions play across his face. I want to take my words back but it’s too late now. Now he knows what I want, and he can destroy my heart with one word.

“Sounds good,” he says, wrapping those strong arms around my waist and pulling me in close for another kiss.

This time, our tongues duel, tasting and teasing without restraint. I let my fingers find their home on his shoulders, gripping him and holding tight just in case I am dreaming, and this isn’t happening to me.

I turn my face away and lean against his body, my head tucked neatly into the crevice of his neck. I can’t help but exhale audibly, relief and resentment mingling in my unspoken words. I hate that we are so good together. I hate that I forget to hate him for running away that night whenever he opens his mouth and says something honest and true. I hate that he is so easy to love, and I am such a miserable cynic.

He crushes me against his body and regains his original position in my bed, stretched out on his side with my body tucked against his. With his wide, warm chest pressed against my back and the moonlight as our only witness, I fall asleep.

When I wake up, Reid’s hands are still on my body. His knee is crushed between my legs and his erection pressed against the small of my back. I lay there, keeping my breathing deep and even, trying to ascertain whether or not he is still sleeping.

His hands grip me tighter, and his lips skim across the skin along the back of my neck, sending warmth through my body. His breath caresses my ear, stirring something deeper, igniting my blood.

“Reid,” his name escapes my lips on a sigh.

“Oh, you do know who your lover is?” his voice is husky and playful.

“Just checking.”

His hand darts between my legs, palming my crotch as he speaks.

“Are you sure you don’t need to turn over and check?”

I refuse to answer, and I refuse to turn over.

“You are stubborn this morning,” he growls, capturing my earlobe in his teeth and biting gently. I stifle a moan and continue to ignore his advances. He concentrates on my neck, kissing and licking as his fingers find my nipples, massaging them gently until my cock is rock hard. I turn my face toward the pillow, powerless to stop the assault on my senses.

“Go on, keep pretending that you are asleep.” His challenge accompanies his hips rocking seductively against my back.

“One lesson and you think you are a pro?” I am playing a dangerous game. He could make me pay dearly for my cheek.

He snickers in my ear and presses my body beneath his own. His strong hands slide under my waistbands and expose my bare skin to the cool morning air. Without hesitation, his lips are on my back, moving slowly down my spine. My breath comes in desperate gasps as he moves closer to my hips. I grip the pillow with my hands, clamping my teeth so hard that my jaw cracks.

              “Are you still going to pretend?” He teases me as his hands massage my ass suggestively.

              “I have no idea what you mean,” I declare, trying to keep the smile out of my voice.

              “Okay, don’t call me cruel,” he says, pushing down on my hips with his forearms and sliding a slick finger between my cheeks, massaging my tight entrance. My hips buck on their own, pressing against his thick digit unintentionally. I choke back a shocked cry and bury my face in the pillow.

              “Still not willing to admit defeat?”

              “What was your name again?”

              He presses harder against my hole, slowly forcing it to open for him.

              “You remind me of somebody I used to know,” I shout, laughter and lust eating away at my control. His devious digits intensify their siege, applying a second finger to my tortured body. My cock jumps as his invasion intensifies.

              “Who is your lover?” He growls in my ear and presses deeper into my body, breaking my resolve and leaving me desperate and wanting.

              “Reid,” I moan.

              “Who?”

              “You are!” I shout, my voice sounding strange as it echoes off of the bare walls in the room I have come to call my own. He stretches across my back, running his hand across my body and wrapping his arm around my chest.

              “You love me?” He whispers in my ear. It is not a demand. I can hear the pleading note in his voice.

              “I think so,” I say, honestly.

              “Say it again,” he whispers, his hips grinding against my body, pressing the swollen head of his engorged cock into the cleft of my firm cheeks.

              “I think I love you, Reid Cummings,” I say. Words I wish I had been able to say a decade ago. Words that I know would never have made it past my stuttering tongue, even if I were brave enough to say them.

              “Say it again,” he whispers, his breath labored as he guides his manhood into me, joining us together seamlessly.

              “I love you,” I say, inhaling sharply as he thrusts into my body, eliminating any space between us.

              His knees separate mine, pulling my thighs up and outward like a frog, splayed across my mattress. The muscles in my legs and hips stretch and strain to accommodate him, lifting my hips slightly, giving him unrestricted access to my body. Reid is ruthless, driving his thick shaft deeper and deeper into my body until I think my intestines will explode. He thrusts powerfully, holding nothing back, grunting as he pushes himself into me.

              I reach behind me, grasping a fist full of his hair and craning my neck to kiss him as our bodies move together.

              “You belong to me,” I say. He bites my shoulder in response, making my body shudder and my cock weep sticky translucent tears.

              “You want me?”

              “I want more,” I beg.

              He doesn’t disappoint me, picking up his pace as I moan wantonly. He shackles my body against his with an iron grip across my chest. Our bodies glisten with the soft sheen of sweat. I wrap my hand around my cock, stroking my neglected shaft until I feel spasms begin deep in my body and ricochet through my pelvis, spilling my seed in hot spurts.

              He soon follows suit, emptying himself inside me. His sits back on his heels, folding me along with him and wrapping both arms around my body. His damp forehead rests against my spine as we both struggle to catch our breath.

              “Don’t forget,” he pants.

              “I won’t,” I say. I have been waiting too long for a moment like this. I won’t ever forget the day I truly became Reid Cumming’s lover or the day his heart became mine.

Reid

              Once when I was a kid and my parents were still talking to each other, we all went camping. I fell asleep in this tiny rowboat that had been, at the time, sitting on the shore beside the river where we were camping. I don’t know how I ended up adrift in the river, but when I woke up, I was far from shore and nearly out of sight. I started yelling and screaming and nearly capsized the boat twice before I got my sister’s attention. I remember watching my family, distraught on the shore, trying to figure out how to save me.

              Now that I think about it, it was pretty peaceful. The current was gentle, and the boat was in good condition. If I hadn’t been watching my family in a state of panic on the shore, trying to think of ways to reach me, I could have sat back and enjoyed the scenery. It was the distress of others that bothered me most. My loved ones were afraid of losing me, and I was afraid of losing them. And the harder we tried to close the distance between us, the farther away we drifted. No amount of tears or violent thrashing would change that. In fact, it only made things worse.

              In the end, I drifted until I reached a place where the river narrowed and my boat, with very little effort, drifted right onto the river bank.

              The last two weeks have been like that impromptu boat ride for me. No matter what I do, it feels like Liam is drifting farther and farther away from me. We don’t fight. We still sleep in the same bed, either in his room or mine, depending on whose sheets are clean. But there is something growing between us. A wall of resentment that I can’t seem to penetrate.

              To meet the requirements for approval from MCM, I have had to put in a lot of extra hours. I have reports to write, case studies to compile and records to submit. Until it is all said and done, Clarissa will be my shadow. He doesn’t say anything about it. He simply buries himself in his work. His reaction to her presence in my life is strange. It’s not jealousy; it’s contempt. And while I know that this situation isn’t ideal, I can’t help but feel like there is something more.

              If it weren't for his cold eyes and a startling lack of sarcasm, I wouldn’t have noticed anything was amiss. Except for Liam’s uncharacteristic quiet, everything in my life is peaceful, but it’s his obvious distress that bothers me. If I know one thing about Liam, it’s that asking him about it won’t work. He won’t admit that he is hurting, even when it is obvious. I saw that when I helped him bathe and when I watched him push through his physical therapy. And it kills me.

              “Looks like I am out of here after Monday,” Clarissa says, sauntering into my office.

              “It’s been a pleasure having you,” I smile. Despite my worries, it has been fun working shoulder to shoulder with Clarissa again. It is easy to forget all the things about her that brought us together in the first place. She may look like a princess, but she has never been afraid of working hard or sweating it out. It has been amazing watching her bond with my kids.

              “Yeah, well if I stay any longer I am afraid I won’t ever be able to leave,” she says.

              “I know some teenaged boys around here who would love to keep you.”

              We both laugh. I miss how easy her laughter was. It would jangle through the air and clear away any sign of sadness in my heart.

              “You know, you could give me a reason to stay,” she says with a sly look.

              “And how is that?”

              “Make an honest woman out of me,” she says, leaning her hip against my desk.

              “Too late. I’m spoken for,” I say.

              “I know I know, but a girl can dream can’t she?”

              “I’ll ask a girl and find out.”

              “Okay, then how about dinner tonight. For old time’s sake. My treat.”

              I hesitate, thinking about Liam at home, hunched over his laptop, finishing his work. For the last three nights, it has been nearly impossible to pull him away from work, even to eat dinner. I have a choice; I can spend another night trying to convince Liam to look at me, or I can have dinner with somebody who genuinely wants to spend time with me.

              “Sounds great.”

              “You sure Liam won’t mind? He can come too,” she offers.

              “No, he is up to his neck in work. I will just call him and let him know he should eat without me,” I say, making a big show of picking up the office phone.

              “Okay, I’ll pick you up from here around seven?”

              “Sounds great,” I say as she waves goodbye.

              This is dumb. Why am I avoiding Liam? If we have a problem, I should go home and fix it. I know that. The problem is, we can’t fix anything as long as I am in the boat, and he is on the shore. Either he has to swim to me, or I have to wait until I run ashore again. Either way, for one night at least, I am going to stop watching the shore. I am going to do what I should have done years ago. I am going to sit back, look up at the stars, and enjoy the peace.

              I dial Liam’s number but don’t get any response. Knowing him, he has put his phone on silent and is staring at the computer screen as if he expects it to talk to him. Maybe it does. I’ve seen him yell and scream at it. I leave a message explaining my dinner plans and asking him not to wait for me. I know he might be angry, but that would be a step up from what I expect. I expect that he won’t even care.

              By the time I am finished locking up for the night, it is already nearly eight o’clock, and Clarissa has been waiting for an hour. I check my phone as I climb into the passenger side seat. No missed calls. My heart sinks a little. I expected at least a text message.

              “Trouble in paradise?” Clarissa asks while she folds her long legs into the luxury sedan she has been driving since she arrived.

              “No, just checking in.” I stuff the offending device in my pocket and look out the window.

              “If you are worried, just call,” she says, as we pull out into traffic.

              “You sound like Darlene.”

              “Is she a smart woman too?”

              “She’s my sister. She seems to think she’s pretty smart, although she dresses like a twelve-year-old from Victorian England and has hair the color of unicorn piss.”

              “What?” Clarissa laughs, the jangling musicality of it fills the car, and once again my sadness disappears.

              “She says it’s very popular in Japan,” I chuckle.

              “That is the most absurd thing I have ever heard.” She leans over the steering wheel, her smile so wide I can see her molars. Tears fill her eyes as she imagines what a grown woman dressed as a Victorian child must look like. I am caught up in her laughter, and I forget about the one whose sullen face and regressive silence has made my heart hurt all day.

              We eat and chat at a local Italian eatery. The food and the décor are rustic and authentically Italian. The generous portions and seemingly endless flow of warm bread to the table quickly put me in a good mood.

              “It's nice to eat dinner that I don’t have to cook,” I say, pushing back from the table and rubbing my stomach.

              “Liam doesn’t cook for you?” The sound of his name on her lips is jarring, making me flinch unconsciously.

              “No, I don’t even think he knows how.”

              “You don’t know?”

              “It never came up. I have always done the cooking. That’s just the way it is.” I stare at my wine glass, wishing it was full of something that would make the ache in my chest go away.

              “Did you ever bring it up?”

              I exhale, tired of carrying the weight of our unnamed problem on my shoulders alone.

              “I have always wanted to take care of Liam. I don’t mind. I don’t. He needs me, and I like that he needs me.”

              “Then what is the problem?”

              “I don’t know, and he won’t tell me,” I admit, snatching my glass from the table and gulping back the water.

              “Oh.” She presses her lips together and looks down at her plate.

              “Yeah. Oh.” I bunch my napkin up and drop it on the table.

              “You know, I know you two are newlyweds and all, but you still have options, Reid.”

              “Like what?”

              “Like me. Like us. We are still a good team, Reid. I know you have felt it too. Seeing you here, like this, surrounded by those kids. Those kids love you,” she says, her eyes soft and adoring the way I remember them.

              “I love them too. But Clarissa, we have so much baggage.” I am truly shocked by her. There are some doors that, once closed, can never be reopened. I had hoped Clarissa and I were on our way to building a new relationship. I had hoped that the ugliness of our past had faded enough to let us become something new. I never expected this.

              “We have a lot of history. Some of it bad, some of it awful, but most of it was good. This time, we are older, wiser, stronger. After all, we have been through you at least owe me one chance. You got that monkey off your back, and I took the chip off of my shoulder-“

              “Did you, Clarissa?”

              She blinks several times, her face blank.

              “W-wh-what?”

              “Did you take the chip off of your shoulder? Let’s be honest about the reason why we separated. It wasn’t because of the accident. It was because you would never let me live it down. You were determined to make me pay, and pay, and pay, until there was nothing left of me.” My hand curls into a fist as I speak, and I stare at her with new eyes. She really is the same old Clarissa. The good and the bad, they are both still there. It has been nearly five years since we last spoke and she hasn’t matured at all. She is still the same, but I am not.

              “Reid, I admit I was foolish,” she begins, regaining her composure the way any good cheerleader would.

              “No, you were honest. You were honest with yourself and me about what you wanted. I believed you then, and I believe you now,” I say standing up.

              “Reid!”

              “You honestly think, despite knowing the fact that I am married, despite knowing that I love Liam, that I owe you another chance?”

              “Do you love him?” She grips the edge of the table so tight that her knuckles turn white. I can hear the indignation in her voice as she challenges me, looking up at me defiantly.

              “You have seen us together. What do you think?”

              “If you love him so much, why are you here with me? Shouldn’t you be at home with him trying to figure out what is wrong with your relationship?”

              “You’re right,” I say walking away from the table. Sitting at home, waiting for Liam to talk to me would have been better than this. This wasn't doing anything; this was rowing towards new shores.

              “Reid!” Clarissa shrieks at me in hushed tones. I keep walking. It’s not until I am outside on the sidewalk that I realize my car is still at the center. Angry at myself and determined to put as much distance between myself and Clarissa as I can, I start walking.

              I fish my phone out of my pocket and call Liam. There is still no answer, but it doesn’t even matter to me anymore. I don’t care if he never says another word to me for as long as we live, as long as he is willing to stay by my side. Everything else can be worked out over time.

              I walk until I stop feeling the chill of the evening. I think about Liam’s fears and I wonder if I haven’t played right into the hands of his cousin. Was this part of his plan? Did anybody even know if he had a plan, or was he simply watching us walk around on eggshells, laughing at our paranoia?

              “It’s too far to walk. You won’t get home before morning at this rate. Get in and let me take you back to the center!”

              Clarissa’s luxury vehicle dominates the road as she slowly rolls down the road, yelling out of her window at me.

              “Reid! Don’t be so stubborn! Just let me take you back to your workplace!”

              I stop and look at her. She’s right. It will take me hours to walk all the way back to the center. Reluctantly, I climb into the car, facing forward, without saying another word to Clarissa. We ride in silence all the way back to the rec center. Despite all of the things we have in common, the one thing that keeps us apart is her need to even all of the scales. She won't ever let me go because there is nothing that I can give her that is as precious as what she lost.

              When we pull up to my car, I am tempted to say something to her. She looks miserable and older than she was a few short hours ago.

              “How about a hug for your friend before I go back to my hotel room and nurse my wounded pride,” she says, standing in front of me with her arms outstretched.

              I wrap my arms around her soft, warm form and pull it in close. I take a deep breath and inhale her perfume and the smell of a thousand nights spent dreaming of the future and railing against a broken system. Clarissa is my friend. Maybe tonight she wasn’t a shining example of friendship, but she was right about one thing. We had more good times than we had bad.