The Darker Side of Trey Grey (30 page)

“It wouldn’t have mattered. They’re pretty cool. Grandpa knew I was gay before I did.” He shrugged as he leaned against the pedestal sink, drying his hands on a yellow floral hand towel.

“
Everyone
knew you were gay before you did, or at least before you chose to acknowledge it,” I said, standing up.

I looked ridiculous in my purple sweats and tight navy blue v-neck tee. The white socks completed the hideous mismatched outfit nicely. Justin’s ensemble wasn’t much better, but at least he had an excuse. He was in his painting clothes, as evidenced by the multi-hued splatters of actual paint. His pink bunny slippers were a nice childish touch however, making me look like a pederast.

He was shaking his head at me, shuffling one of his bunny slippers. “I was trying to be something my father could live with. But alas, this cute, broken, wild brunette showed up and now... everyone else pales in comparison.” His head tilted as he gazed at me with benevolent blue eyes. “Only, he can’t seem to see how special he really is.”

“We’re not really going to get into this now are we?”

He tossed the towel onto the washer. “No.” He opened the door and reached back for my hand. “I said it because I know your mind will roll it over and over mercilessly for days.” He captured my hand then frowned down at my trembling fingers.

“I’m ignoring it,” I told him with a squeeze of my hand.

He looked at me concerned.

“I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t believe me, and I didn’t really believe myself, but I was damn well going to try.

He kept me close as we entered the front room. His grandfather appeared abashed. Justin’s tiny grandmother, however, was beaming at us without a trace of embarrassment.

“Ah, darling, it is good to see you, and looking so happy too!” She threw her arms around him, and he leaned down so she could kiss his cheek.

“Grandma, Grandpa, this is my boyfriend, Trey Grey. Trey,” He squeezed my hand, giving me a goofy smile, “Ben and Mira Kent.”

Ben shook my hand very firmly then slapped his other hand around mine as his face broke into a smile. “It is really good to meet you,” he said righteously, and I swear the man teared up. His reaction was so much different than his son’s, I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to taint Justin’s father’s opinion about gays.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, sir.” I returned his smile.

He nodded, letting my hand go, then turned away to wipe his eyes, confirming my suspicion. Mira beamed at me so brightly I almost backed up a step.

“Well now, I always knew Justin would find someone handsome.” She clapped her hands together in front of her chest then slapped them onto my cheeks.

“Thank you?” I answered, not really knowing how to respond.

Mira was bubbly, with a sweet face, but there was a helluva lot of wisdom in the old bird’s ashen eyes. She patted one of my cheeks before she clasped her knobby hands in front of her again.

“So, tell us how you met. We want to hear everything.” She wrinkled her bonny nose excitedly.

We looked at each other knowingly. “We met at a restaurant,” I said. “He, um, took my breath away.”

Justin’s mouth opened.

“And somehow he keeps managing to do it,” I added gently, not taking my eyes off him. His lip trembled slightly. He licked his lips and swallowed, managing a weak smile before he turned back to his grandma. I knew I had put him on the spot, but it seemed like the right thing to say just then.

His grandparents settled on the couch and asked about me, school, and things we had to skirt carefully, making me shift uncomfortably on the folding chair I was sitting on. When my leg began bouncing nervously, Justin laid a hand on my thigh, and his touch somehow steadied me.

Finally the spotlight swooshed off us as they launched into what they had been up to, where they had been, and the fabulous things they had seen. I relaxed, listening to their soft excited voices as they took us with them through
Italy, then Greece.

Justin took in every word with enraptured glee. It was so obvious he wanted to go. But then why wouldn’t he? Didn’t every artist want to experience the splendor of
Europe?

I glanced at his steady, calming hand on my leg. I found myself wanting to make that trip with him. Maybe, someday, if he were by my side... Anything was possible, wasn’t it? I took in his twinkling eyes and slightly jealous grin. If I couldn’t overcome my issues associated with travel, then he would definitely have to go to
Europe without me. The boy was completely beguiled.

As Ben rose from the couch, and helped his wife up, he stated, “Dinner tomorrow night.”

“Sounds good.” Justin looked at me, “What time can you be here?”

I shook my head. “I can’t tomorrow. I have a meeting.” A pang of guilt, and a whole crapload of remorse, hit me at that moment over my agreement with Freddie. I couldn’t ditch him though. He might absolve the arrangement when he hears it will only be a month, but I doubted it. Besides, I needed his money in order to keep my promises to Justin.

“But—”

I regarded him firmly, and he nodded, looking like a puppy I had just stepped on.

“We’re here until Friday morning. Does Thursday work for you, Trey?”

“Sorry, sir, I have to work.”

Justin’s lips thinned as his jaw tensed. “Excuse us for a moment.” He dragged me to the kitchen, letting go of my hand as he whirled around to face me. “Work after your therapy appointment? Is that an excuse because you don’t want to go?”

I shook my head, and sighed. “All right, I’ll leave it up to you. I
have
to work two days. I planned on working Thursday and Friday so we could spend the weekend together. But if you want me here Thursday, then I can work Saturday instead.”

He scratched his forehead, chewing everything over for a moment before answering. He didn’t look happy with any of it.

“I’m going to be selfish. I want you for the weekend. There’s a party Saturday by the way, and I figured we could hole ourselves up in our room, or the studio, or something, just us.” He sighed, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “My grandparents will just have to see you on their next visit.”

“You said our room.” I cocked my head curiously at him.

“You’re still moving in aren’t you?” His shoulders went ramrod straight.

“Yes, that’s my plan.”

“Then it’s our room,” Justin said, relaxing. “You know, your mind works in the weirdest ways.” He shook his head. “Let’s go say goodbye and get you in the shower. You’re still shaking.” He made a little face, “And sweating.” He led the way back to his grandparents.

After we bade farewell to a disappointed, but forgiving, Ben and Mira, he practically dragged me to the shower. I thought I had been doing quite well actually.

“I decided to instigate a rule since this
is
my house.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a pink plastic bag. “You’re not allowed to bring your scrub brush with you. It’s not allowed in this house.” He dumped the contents of the bag on the counter. “I feel you shouldn’t need it since it’ll just be you and I. You can use any of these exfoliating products to scrub with, but your brush will be officially retired.” He gave me a very firm look.

I gazed at the small pile of loofas and body brushes, then closed my eyes and nodded. I could do this. I
would
do this for Justin. I would do this for me.
See, that wasn’t so hard
. My OCD railed, sending a shudder through me. I ignored it, or tried to anyway, as I pried my fingers from my palms.

Justin scrubbed every inch of me with a loofa sponge. The sponge did a decent job and I was baby pink when he was done. Not to mention “IT” was in a rather amorous mood again, as was Justin, or at least his ten inch hard-on said he was. I was tired, and sore, and not in the mood, and this wasn’t like me, damn it.

I couldn’t deny Justin was special in ways I hadn’t begun to understand, but I wasn’t about to let my rampant hormones control me or our relationship. My eyes wandered over Justin causing “IT” to tighten.
Goddamn sonofabitch
. I gathered up the clothes on the floor, tearing the towel away from Justin while he was still using it, leaving him wide-eyed and gawking.

“When did showering become a couple’s activity?” I belted as I stomped petulantly to the laundry room. I grumbled about our relationship being about more than sex as I shoved the clothes in, and started the washer. By the time I added detergent “IT” was weeping.

“Quit acting like a pubescent child. Jesus Christ, you’re a fucking professional.” I tore off some toilet paper, and wiped him off. “He’s not the first tight ass you’ve been in.” I chucked the TP in the toilet, sighing. He was the first “IT” had ever truly wanted though. My fingers locked into my damp hair. He was the first I had ever truly wanted.

Even with that enlightening revelation, not to mention the fact I
knew
I was being childish, I still refused to turn our relationship into a Trey Grey sexual revolution. I left the laundry room intent on dressing, and disinfecting the table, possibly even borrowing a pair of Justin’s form-fitting boxers so I could keep “IT” in line.

I skittered to a stop. “Damn it.”

The bane of my sexual turmoil was posed in the middle of the front room looking every bit the slut I had accused him of being earlier. He was on his front, lying a bit like a frog, knees out to the side while his cheek rested on his folded arms. The position somehow enhanced his back and thigh muscles while giving a peek-a-boo view of his tight little...
he was such a slut.
He glanced back at me with mopey eyes, pulling the thumb he had been biting out of his mouth.

“If you don’t want me...” He slid his hands forward and arched his back down. I never thought I could get excited about a guy posing, but oh baby, was I. Justin’s ass wagging in the air was incredibly enticing. I banged my head against the wall. It didn’t help.

Then I realized he had said if I didn’t want him, not if I wasn’t in the mood. I gazed at him and caught him fumbling with his ear. A tell. It was a tell for his insecurity. How had I missed that?

I walked over and knelt down. “Justin, you’re going to be sore tomorrow.” I ran a hand down his back and he arched into my touch. What we had done in the kitchen hadn’t been enough for him. Or more than likely hadn’t been the right
type
of affection.

He purred the words, “I know.”

I opened my mouth then closed it on my rebuke as I realized why he wanted to be sore. I watched him move sensually against my hand, saw the flush travel across his body, all the while his eyes were closed. This was all part of his insecurity issues. He must have taken my walking out of the bathroom as a rejection and he needed to know I desired him. I shook my head as an enlightened smile crept across my face. The rough fuck I fell for was actually an exceedingly insecure bottom, even if he didn’t realize it himself.

This whole time he had been taking care of me, and I had completely missed what he required in our relationship. Justin needed affection, softness, love.

I took my time with him and gave Justin what he craved. This was another first for me. Some tricks need a little caressing to get the ball rolling, but I had never taken things so slowly, or listened to another’s body so completely.

I let my hands and lips roam over him, noting the areas he responded to with a sigh or a whispered;
yes
. I let him know with my body that he was very desired, wanted, and needed. I took him as gently as I could and after I came, I stroked him until he whimpered, shuddered, and collapsed underneath me.

I encased him in my arms and kissed across his shoulders until he relaxed. He melted into me. I was in a rather warm, languid state, and felt my lids weighting down.

“I love you, baby. Thank you,” Justin whispered, placing his lips on my palm.

“Mmm,hmm,” I mumbled as I drifted off.

I woke to the smell of food cooking, and Justin tightly wrapped around me with his face planted into the crook of my shoulder. The comforter from his bed had been laid over us, and there was clanking coming from the kitchen. Kelly was home.

I placed a hand over my eyes as I chuckled quietly. She’s the one who wanted to move in with two gay boys. Justin stirred, nuzzling my neck.

I turned, kissed his forehead, and my lips froze there for an instant.
Oh God
.
Relax, relax, relax.
Big fucking slimy wet spot beneath my back. It’s... it’s okay, I’m okay. It’s not dirty, it’s not foul. I moaned as my mouth turned pasty at the same time my stomach lurched.

“Trey, look at me, open your eyes.”

“Mmhaa.”

He jostled my neck. “You’re fine. The carpet can be cleaned, you can be cleaned. Relax.”

I cracked my eyes and felt Justin’s thumbs running along my jaw, saw his blue eyes staring intently down at me, and then felt the wet spot underneath me again and shuddered.

“That’s it, keep looking at me.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Kelly, can you bring me a
clean
towel from the laundry room please.”