Outcome (Aftermath #2) (17 page)

"Fucking perfect." Remy licked his bottom lip and stroked Chase's rock-hard cock. "Can—" He hesitated and looked up. "Can I ask you something?"

Chase could barely think straight, but he managed a nod as he pulled Remy closer and kissed his neck.

Remy shivered. "Why are you in the closet?"

Chase stiffened, a long line of curses and fears rushing through his head, but then he forced himself to relax. This was Remy; he could be trusted, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Chase was a closet case, even though he'd never actually said anything.

He let out a breath and moved his hands up Remy's sides.

"I don’t even know anymore." Chase dropped his forehead to Remy's shoulder, his confession at least partly true. He didn't know—
at the moment
. Or rather, he doubted he could go on with the hiding. After being with Remy, the whole thing seemed more and more ridiculous for every day that passed.

Once upon a time, Chase had wanted nothing more than to be Pops's good deed in the world. A pride and joy, a purpose, a legacy.
One thing…
that didn’t make Chase feel so damn sorry for his father, who had failed in all other aspects of his life.

But Pops didn’t fucking deserve better, did he? Only a fool would be proud of a straight son and not a gay one.

Chase could still imagine his dad's voice if he'd been alive when the kidnapping took place. He could picture Pops's shame, another failure.
"This wouldn’t have happened if you weren't queer."
Maybe the words would've been shouted. Or said quietly, with disgust.

Well, fuck that, Dad.

Though, if Chase was gonna be completely honest, his embarrassment over what had happened in that alley three-and-a-half years ago was probably holding him back more than his promise to restore some of his dad's pride. And he wasn’t sure he could talk about that with Remy because the kid would find a way to blame himself. 

Lifting his head, Chase kissed the corner of Remy's mouth. He felt nervous at the prospect of letting go of his past; it was something he ached for, but old habits died hard.

"I'm not sure I
can
hide any longer," he whispered. It was the closest he'd get to telling Remy he was the main reason Chase questioned everything.

Remy palmed Chase's cheeks and kissed him. "Come on. I want you under the covers for a while. The outside world can go fuck itself, all right?"

Chase liked the sound of that.

Chapter 19

Over the next several weeks, Remy and Chase created a new routine. Diners along the edges of Bakersfield were replaced with Remy's house, and they closed themselves in whenever they had the opportunity.

There were several matters Remy wanted to push Chase on, but he never did, telling himself Chase would talk when he was ready. But yeah…fuck…Remy was itching to know more about Chase's issues with his sexuality, the reasons behind hiding—if it really was only because of his dead parents—and if Chase had brought it up with Gale yet.

Remy also wanted to know how honest he could be about all this with Minna and Andy. As it was now, nobody knew anything. They didn’t know that Remy and Chase occupied the backyard or the guest room several days of the week while the rest of Bakersfield was at work. They didn’t know about any kind of relationship—or whatever one could call what Remy had with Chase.

It was making Remy uncomfortable to hide so much, but he couldn’t bring himself to voice his concerns when he was busy reveling in Chase's company. Whether they were fucking each other's brains out, arguing over music, using the punching bag that now hung in the backyard, laughing at Chase's failed attempts at cooking, or taking naps together, Remy was hooked. He didn’t want to lose any of that by asking too much.

Time with Chase had made Remy greedy. He couldn’t deny that he wanted more—a lot more—and that his heart and mind were already there. It had happened effortlessly, without Remy's consent, and there was nothing he could do about it. Not that he wanted to, but…

He was lucky Chase was here at all.

Here
, right this minute, was the bed. They'd cranked up the air conditioning after a long morning of soaking in the sun and swimming laps in the pool. They'd even showered cold, only so they'd enjoy taking refuge under the covers more.

Remy breathed in their scent and nudged his knee between Chase's legs.

For the first time in his life, Remy felt so at peace in another man's arms that he couldn’t imagine wanting anything more than this. Cuddling wasn’t a necessary evil anymore, a kiss didn’t have to lead to groping, and a naked body pressed against him didn’t mean he had to bend over.

He felt thoroughly desired and cherished by Chase, which was a new experience.

Remy had never fucked slow, either. Now it was high up on his list, along with the raw and rough sex that left his body sore and aching for hours.

He could go for either option right now. They both needed it. Remy wanted the connection, and he knew Chase had a session with Gale soon—one he'd said he was dreading—so perhaps Remy could take his mind off things.

*

Chase was dozing on and off when he felt Remy's hand trail down his torso.

"I want you." Remy shifted so he was on top of Chase, his mouth dropping openmouthed kisses on Chase's chest. "I know you're awake."

Chase cracked a sleepy smile and pulled Remy in for a quick but hard kiss.

"What time is it?" Chase murmured drowsily. He lifted his head and glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand.
Damn
. "I gotta go in an hour." He had that
fucking
session with Gale, and how he was gonna work afterward was beyond him.

So far, therapy had been relatively easy—even helpful and useful. He was slowly but surely working on being more optimistic, not shouldering everyone's troubles, and not feeling guilty for shit that didn’t have anything to do with him.

"There will always be people who are worse off than you, Chase,"
Gale had told him.
"And better off, of course. But neither means you don’t deserve the good things you create for yourself."
She'd paused and scribbled something in her notepad.
"Next time you feel the need to make comparisons between you and others, take a minute and consider if what you're doing is fair. For instance, would you be as demanding toward your sister as you would to yourself?"

Chase needed to cut himself some fucking slack, in other words. And he'd been trying, mainly by indulging in every moment with Remy and not feeling guilty about it. Because it was there, the guilt, as fucked-up as it may be. But was that so weird? He'd promised to
help
Remy, not screw him six ways to Sunday and practically move into his house during the day.

There was more, too. The attraction Chase had for him had spiraled outta control, and as he searched Remy's eyes, all the right and wrong words were at the tip of his tongue.

I think I love you
.

Remy smirked down at him and reached for the lube on the nightstand. "I can work with an hour."

Chase grinned, content to let Remy run the show. While he prepared Chase's ass with magic fingers and kissed him sensually, Chase focused on just feeling. He ran his hands down Remy's back, stroked his cock, and squeezed his sexy ass.

The kiss grew hungrier as Remy fucked him a little harder and moved his fingers a little faster. Chase cursed, his mind swimming with images of the two of them from the past few weeks. Sometimes they were both dominant, fighting until one submitted. Sometimes they tripped on their way to bed and ended up laughing during foreplay. Sometimes it was a sleepy fuck, where closeness mattered more than coming. Sometimes they both wanted to bottom, so they took turns until they were exhausted to the point where they fell asleep in a pile.

"Now," Chase moaned.

"Fuck, yes." Remy slicked up his cock and pushed in, filling Chase in one deep thrust. "I love—this. I love this." He let out a stuttered breath against Chase's neck and stayed still for a few beats.

Chase closed his eyes, the overwhelming pleasure mingling with a bite of pain. It was fucking addictive, almost as good as the damn orgasm that would follow.

Was there anything better than being with Remy?

Chase didn’t wanna deny this part of himself anymore.

He reached up and kissed Remy's neck. "I want more, baby." How true those words were, although he knew Remy would interpret them differently.

Chase was right.

Remy grabbed Chase's jaw, kissed him hard, and picked up the pace. "I want your come on me, so tell me when you're close," he said, grunting as he hooked an arm under Chase's knee and slammed in. "
Fuck
."

Chase gritted out a curse and fisted his cock, but Remy batted away his hand and took over. With each thrust Remy delivered, Chase clenched his ass and got rougher when he touched Remy.

The rhythm and the continuous sounds of skin slapping, heavy breaths, and the bed creaking wrapped Chase in a fog of lust he couldn’t see past. When Remy went harder, it spurred Chase on like nothing else. He met each push and pull by lifting his hips and tugging Remy closer, but no matter how much he gave back, it wasn’t enough.

In the end, he let out a growl and took Remy by surprise when he flipped them over. He had his cock coated in lube before he knew it, and then he got in between Remy's legs and forced himself deep inside.

Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Okay, that works—fuuuck!" Remy moaned breathlessly and dug his blunt fingernails into Chase's shoulders. "
Jesus
, Chase."

Chase froze. "Christ, I'm sorry—"

"No!" Remy laughed through a groan. "Fuck—no. I'm good. Just caught me off-guard. Keep going." He hissed and shivered when Chase shifted inside him. "Take whatever you want." But Chase couldn’t. Not yet. He felt like shit. Remy seemed to notice, and something in his eyes softened. "Sweetheart, look at my dick. It's rock-fucking-hard. You didn’t hurt me. Please continue."

Chase didn’t need to look; he could feel it pressed between them. Instead he closed his eyes, his body taking over. He couldn’t fucking help it.

"That’s it." Remy palmed Chase's cheeks and tilted their foreheads together. "Take it."

"All of it," Chase heard himself mumble. Drawing back, he rammed forward again and kissed Remy so hard his jaw ached.

"Take it," Remy repeated in a gasp.

So Chase took. Driven by his need to possess and love, Chase took all he could in that moment, and he took it savagely. He touched and manipulated every spot he'd learned excited Remy, and he gave all of himself back in return. Until there was nothing left but erratic heartbeats, silence, consuming orgasms, and stunning clarity.

There was no "think" about it. Chase loved Remy and would do anything for him.

*

A while after Chase had left, Remy wandered around aimlessly, lost in his thoughts. Things were changing; he could feel it. The house had become
home
again. Touches, smiles, and kisses with Chase lingered more. Remy could envision pictures on the walls in his living room—pictures of the only family that mattered. Laughter was returning to his life. And maybe—just maybe—he could imagine walking into Andy's studio, hearing the buzzing of a tattoo gun, and feeling his fingers itching to hold it.

Remy's gut tightened at the realization of how much he had to
lose
.

He was so hopeful for a bright future, but it absolutely terrified him at the same time.

Minna believed in him, and letting her down would crush Remy. Chase…fuck, Chase. Remy could suddenly see everything with Chase. Like a freshly paved road that hadn't been there before. But the on-ramp was still unstable—a little too shaky to walk on—and he needed Chase to take that turn first.

He needed Chase to want the same things.

It
was
a possibility, though. The way Chase had left things today had only sparked more hope in Remy. The tight hug, the whispered
"I'll call you later, baby,"
and
the long kiss by the door couldn’t have been more relationship-like.

In the same breath, Remy had to be careful about moving too fast. He had to put a leash on the part of him that was ready to move back home and give Chase a new address. Because the truth was, on the days Remy had therapy, he couldn’t be more thankful for the solitude the cabin brought him.

"That fucking Gale," he muttered to himself, walking into the kitchen.

Gale was like a sadist for the mind. She grabbed ahold of memories he shared about his childhood, put proverbial nipple clamps on them, and twisted whenever Remy came to conclusions that put him at fault.

Worse was when she caned his ego with facts and observations.

"Let me just see if I understand this,"
she'd interrupted him patiently.
"Are you saying that if you'd known more about Ben's intentions, you would have been able to stop him?"
Sort of? Remy had nodded hesitantly, instinct telling him he was about to get his ass handed to him. And Gale hadn't disappointed.
"I see. Well, allow me to put it this way, then. If your best friend had only predicted your reaction to your mother's suicide by hiding all the alcohol in the state of California, you wouldn’t have been able to drink."

Remy had felt so fucking stupid when she'd put it that way, and so had Chase, apparently. They'd discussed how similar they could be and were baffled as to how completely blind they'd been.

A new perspective
, Cam had evidently told Chase once. But wasn’t it ridiculous? So much pain; Remy and Chase had both been so snowed in, thinking they knew best. Believing they knew
themselves
best.

Gale had struck her cane with,
"Some might call it arrogant to think a person has the power to change someone else."
She was right, of course.
"You can very well open up a person's mind to new possibilities, but change comes from within. Regardless of what is right and wrong, only
you
can decide to change your behavior or rethink something you have planned to do."

Mind. Fucked.

They'd touched the subject again when Remy had mentioned the therapist he'd seen the one time he'd tried to get help. Remy had asked why shit hadn't worked out then.

"Because that therapist didn’t tell you what you wanted to hear, Remy. At that point in your life, you wanted the blame. You weren't open to other possibilities."
She'd smiled softly, a reminder of their previous talk about open minds and changes.
"It's different now. You're not here to tell me how it is. You're not pretending to know the solution. Perhaps you've even understood that I can't magically
fix
you. But I can do my best to guide you and help you gain understanding."

Remy slumped down in a kitchen chair, exhausted just
thinking
about his sessions with Gale. He still had a few days before his next one, but… Chase was there now, and despite having focused on the deeper connection that was developing between them, Remy had to have been blind to miss the extra weight Chase carried on his shoulders when he'd walked out the door.

Considering he still didn't have a car, Remy swiped the cordless from next to the microwave and dialed Andy's cell. Minna was working, but he didn’t know about Andreas.

Remy had told himself to research AA today before he called the guy Gale had suggested, so maybe he couldn’t physically be there for Chase, but he could at least help out a little. If the session was a bad one, Remy didn’t like the idea of Chase getting on his bike afterward.