8
“Smile, Theo.”
Theo smiled, accepting the arm around his shoulder, turning his face up into the camera. He was alive, he reminded himself. Auggie was alive. In spite of everything. That was something to smile about.
The phone clicked, the flash went off, and Theo blinked to clear his eyes. Auggie’s arm slid from around his shoulders, and Auggie flopped onto Theo’s bed, examining the photo. He was making a face.
“Another?” Theo asked.
“No,” Auggie said. “It’s fine.”
Under the cable-knit cardigan, the casually cool button-up, the jeans, and the boots—the boots Theo had gotten him for Christmas—you could hardly tell that Auggie had been hit by a car. You had to look, really look, to see it: when he forgot and tried to prop himself up on one elbow, the flash of pain as he adjusted to take the weight off his injured arm, the silhouette of bandages under the sweater. Most people, Theo thought, wouldn’t have any idea.
“You’re doing it again,” Auggie said in a quiet voice.
Theo forced himself to relax his face. He seemed to have forgotten how—every variation of the expression that he tried felt like papier-mâché. He tried, again, as he settled onto the bed next to Auggie. Careful, he told himself as he laid a hand on Auggie’s leg. Not his knee because it’s still black and blue. But not too high, either, where he got road rash. He had drawn the map in his mind at night, midnight after sleepless midnight. Here, but not here. And not here. And not here, either.
In the aftermath of the accident, Theo had been useless. Worse than useless. He’d failed to follow the attacker. He’d stood there, staring at Auggie. His mind was busy mixing tracks: the semi swerving into their lane, Ian and Lana, the car spinning across the highway; but also, spliced in where it didn’t make any sense, the Prius, the headlights picking out tufts of hair on the side of Auggie’s head, the half-formed thought that Auggie stumbling had been, somehow, a joke, and that he’d turn around with a shit-eating grin, and then the crunch of steel and fiberglass connecting with flesh.
Someone else had called 911.
In the hospital room, after the miracle of learning that Auggie didn’t have any broken bones, just some bad bruises and scrapes and cuts, Theo had felt himself reboot. Auggie had been pretty doped up by then, squeezing Theo’s hand, and it had taken work to extricate himself. He’d gone to the bathroom and been sick in one of the stalls, white-knuckling the porcelain rim. And then, with strands of saliva, hanging from his mouth, he had stared down at his own mess. It had taken a long time before he could tear off squares of toilet paper and clean himself up, clean the toilet up, and totter out to the sink, avoiding his eyes in the mirror.
The next morning, of course, Auggie had been Auggie again, albeit slightly grumpy in a way that was unusual for him. He complained about everything unless Theo sat next to him, holding his hand. Twice, Theo caught himself turning, already opening his mouth to say, It’s happening again, Auggie, and I can’t. But both times, he managed to say something else instead.
If anything good had come out of the accident—and that was a small if—it was that Auggie being hospitalized had ended the strange, tense silence with Fer. Theo had sat next to the hospital bed, squeezing Auggie’s hand, while Fer bellowed for forty-five minutes. Auggie had rolled with it, winding Fer up more and more, occasionally making faces, occasionally smiling at Theo.
At one point, though, the conversation had changed, and Auggie’s smile had hardened. “No,” he said. “I’m not going to tell him that.” Fer must have asked why because Auggie said, “Because it’s not his fault. I tripped, Fer, and he feels awful enough as it is. I’m not going to tell him he’s a human-shaped prolapsed anus because you’re feeling protective.” Auggie had listened again, his hand tight around Theo’s, and now Theo noticed that Auggie wasn’t looking at him. On purpose. Finally, after Fer’s screaming had subsided, Auggie said, “No, Fer. Because he went to the bathroom, that’s why. And because I don’t want you interrogating him.” Fer’s next question had been loud enough for Theo to hear it, and Auggie’s answer, and the way he kept his eyes fixed on the TV running an episode of Maurie, told Theo everything he needed to know: “It’s none of your business.”
But the fireworks that should have prompted never came, and in the weeks that followed Auggie and Fer seemed to have resumed their normal interactions—from what Theo overheard, anyway. Today, Fer had called to wish Auggie a happy birthday, and it had been peppered with what Theo was coming to identify as Fer’s unique terms of endearment—gaping dong hole and jizz guzzler were trending this month. Auggie had ended the call with a big smile, which was nice to see, especially when the last few weeks hadn’t given either of them much to smile about.
“We’re going to be late,” Theo said.
Auggie looked up and smiled, his eyes moving to take Theo in. “You’re so handsome.”
“Thank you. You’re very handsome too. Especially tonight.” And that was the truth; in spite of the subterranean injuries, Auggie had never looked better. The cardigan and the button-up fit him perfectly, accenting the chest and arms and shoulders that he’d been working hard to develop. The jeans were practically strangling his thighs and calves. When he tilted his head back, Theo thought about trying to lick away the shadow that fell in the hollow of his throat. It wouldn’t work, but he wouldn’t have minded giving it a shot.
“We don’t have to go to the party. We could stay here. I could celebrate with my handsome boyfriend.”
“It’s your party, Auggie. And it’s a big one. And all your friends are going.” Very little changed in Auggie’s face—a slight widening of his eyes, a slight pursing of his lips, making them fuller, shinier—but it was enough for Theo to hear himself say, “No. None of that.”
Auggie laughed, and then he was Auggie again, face bright with youth and excitement and the joy of being alive. He wriggled off the bed, checked his phone one last time, and tossed it onto the mattress. “Are you sure you’re ok with this?”
“Ok with what?”
Auggie gave him a look.
“You’re twenty-one now,” Theo said. “Why wouldn’t I be ok with you having a drink?”
Rolling his eyes, Auggie shook his head.
“What?” Theo said.
“You’re hopeless. You understand that, right? Like, legitimately hopeless.”
“I can live with that.”
Auggie grinned. “Hold on. I got you something.”
“What do you mean you got me something? You’re not supposed to get me something. It’s your birthday; I’m supposed to get you something.”
“Just hold on!”
Auggie jogged—well, it was more like a limping hustle—out of the room. The old stairs groaned under his weight, and then Theo could hear him moving across the house, tracking him by the protests from the floorboards. Then Auggie was making his way back. When he got to the bedroom, he stopped in the doorway and rubbed his hip without seeming to realize it. He was holding a small, white box in one hand.
“You shouldn’t have done this,” Theo said.
“You don’t even know what it is.” Auggie thrust it at him, his smile growing. “Open it.”
Theo opened the box. It held an iPhone.
“Auggie, you can’t—this is way too much money. And it’s your birthday.”
“It’s my old one. I had Fer ship it out here; it cost, I don’t know, twenty bucks to mail it. It was just sitting in my room, and I thought maybe, you know, you’d like it. And then you could actually have Instagram and Snapchat and Facebook on your phone instead of doing everything on your computer with reading glasses.”
“I don’t wear reading glasses,” Theo said, weighing the box in one hand.
“Yeah, but you are going to be so fucking hot when you do, I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Uh huh,” Theo said.
“I’m going to have to beat the twinks off with a stick.”
“Jesus God.” He hefted the box again. “Auggie, this is—”
“Don’t say it’s too much. Or that it’s my birthday. Just—think about it. Sleep on it. How about that? And you can feel totally safe and secure that it didn’t cost me more than twenty dollars. Oh my God, your face. You don’t have to decide now. Hand me my phone, and we’ll get going.”
Theo stretched to set the box with the old phone on the dresser. Then he picked up Auggie’s phone. It buzzed in his hand, and he glanced down automatically. Then he froze.
“Why is Maria Maldonado emailing you?”
Auggie snatched the phone. He held it behind his back. After clearing his throat, he said, “I’m trying out for wrestling. With Orlando. He’s been teaching me, um, moves. Are they called moves?”
“Auggie.”
“Don’t be mad.”
Theo tented his fingers over his face. Then he stood, hands falling to his sides, and looked Auggie in the eye.
“Promise you won’t be mad,” Auggie said in a near-whisper. “It’s my birthday.”
“I have the feeling that I will be mad.”
“It’s nothing, Theo. I just—I asked her about people in her department, people who might have complained about Harley and then retracted the complaint. Or complained about football players. That kind of thing. That’s what Trace told us, right? That Harley had a way of making those kinds of things go away. And we haven’t made any progress on finding the killer—”
When Theo held up a hand, Auggie stopped. Theo worked his jaw and heard it crack. His voice didn’t sound like anyone he knew when he asked, “Are you kidding me?”
A defiant light shone in Auggie’s eyes, and he held Theo’s gaze.
Theo took a breath. Then another. For a moment, that spliced reality flickered past him: the semi swerving into their lane; the rushing lights of the Prius. His chest was so tight that he thought, for a moment, he was having a heart attack.
Auggie spoke into the silence. “I know you’re worried, and I know you feel protective of me, but we haven’t even talked about the investigation for weeks—”
“Please stop talking.”
“—and I’m the one in danger, Theo. Me. Someone tried to kill me the night I got back from winter break. And someone tried to kill me that night after we talked to Trace in the Pocket. I’m not going to sit around and wait for them to get lucky the next time they try.”
A part of Theo heard the words, understood them, knew Auggie was right. A louder part of him said, “Stop talking.”
Auggie’s jaw snapped shut. He was breathing hard through his nose, his eyes still fixed on Theo.
“I don’t want to fight with you on your birthday,” Theo finally managed to say.
Auggie was still staring at him.
“So, I’m going to say this once,” Theo said. He stopped and coughed once. “And then the topic is closed. I do not want you doing anything like this—contacting anyone, talking to anyone, snooping or looking around, whatever you want to call it—until I tell you we’re ready to start working again.”
“You don’t get to make that decision. Not on your own.”
“Yes, I do.”
Auggie shook his head. He looked close to crying, and he turned away now, his face in profile as he blinked rapidly. “It’s never going to change, is it? I could be twenty-one or thirty-one or forty-one, and you’re always going to see me as a kid. We’re never going to be equal.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“Oh,” Auggie laughed wetly and scrubbed under his nose. “Great. Thanks for telling me.”
“It’s not. I am—Auggie, I’m your boyfriend. It’s my job to protect you. To take care of you.” Auggie was crying now, wiping his cheeks to try to catch the tears before they could roll down, and Theo tried to soften his voice. “I love you.”
“Yeah, well.” Auggie pressed the sleeve of his cardigan over his eyes.
Theo looked at the dresser: the little TV they’d set up at one end, where the pile of Ian’s clothes had been; a wooden tray with keys, wallet, watch; Auggie’s loose change at the other end. Seventy-seven cents. One of the pennies looked like the kind some people tried to collect.
“I’m sorry,” Theo said.
Auggie shook his head. If anything, it looked like he was crying harder.
“Auggie, come on, please. I don’t want your birthday to be like this. I’m sorry I said anything. I saw that email and—and I just reacted. I shouldn’t have handled it the way I did.”
“No. You shouldn’t have. And you know what, Theo? For somebody who’s really a great person, somebody I love and admire and who is probably the smartest person I know, you do a lot of reacting, and it’s really shitty.”
The grin came out of nowhere, and Theo surprised himself with it. “You’re right. It’s on my list to work on with my therapist, but that list is already a mile long.”
Auggie snuffled into his sleeve. “You don’t even have a therapist.”
Theo caught the sleeve, tugged Auggie’s arm down, and then pulled him into a hug. “Please don’t be mad, ok? I’m sorry I ruined your birthday.”
Dropping his head against Theo’s shoulder, Auggie took a few deep breaths. He sounded a little steadier when he spoke next. “You didn’t ruin it.”
“I kind of did.”
“No, you didn’t. I just wish—I mean, Theo, are you ever going to—”
Theo pulled back to look at him. “What?”
Auggie shook his head, chin dropping.
“Am I ever going to what, Auggie?”
“Never mind. I know you love me. I know you’re protective. That’s what matters.”
Is it, Theo wanted to ask. Is it, when all I seem to do is make you unhappy? But he threw dirt on the question until he could pretend it hadn’t come to him, and he bent and kissed Auggie, who was salty with tears.
After that, the birthday proceeded smoothly. The festivities took place at the Pretty Pretty—Wahredua’s only gay club. On the outside, it looked like an industrial leftover—the sidewalk broken and stained with rust, the neon pink letters that spelled out the club’s name buzzing in front of corrugated steel panels. The velvet rope for the queue was a bit of a giveaway, though, as were the dozens of guys lined up and waiting for their turn.
Inside, the air was glycerin-sweet from the smoke machine and heavy with musk and sweat. Mirrors hung everywhere, and clusters of LED lights in crystal settings ran around the room, cycling through rainbow hues. Music thudded over the house speakers, and the dance floor, when they got there, was already crowded with men. It had never been Theo’s scene; he had come out later in life, and then he had met Ian quickly, and neither of them had enjoyed crowded clubs and overpriced drinks. But he’d been here before, and it was Auggie’s first time, so he tried to keep a smile, whatever that looked like these days, on his face.
Auggie’s birthday party definitely added some diversity to the crowd: Auggie’s straight (or, at least nominally straight) Sigma Sigma frat bros, and Auggie’s friends who were girls. The straight boys played it cool, although they looked around a lot, and Theo couldn’t tell if they were looking at the merchandise or trying to look at who was looking at them—it seemed to be a mix, and there was definitely some element of ego at stake. The girls, especially the ones who seemed to be straight, were bolder—talking to the guys in the club, dancing with them. More than anything else, what everyone in the party—straight or gay, boy or girl—wanted to do was drink, and Auggie’s primary responsibility seemed to be to drink whatever was handed to him.
For the most part, Theo sat with Auggie and did his best to keep his face smooth, no matter how many shots the Sigma Sigma bros pressed on Auggie, no matter how many sweet, syrupy drinks the girls insisted Auggie had to try. Theo wasn’t naïve; he knew that Auggie had had alcohol before. He was in a fraternity, after all, and Theo had witnessed drunk Auggie—and hungover Auggie—in person more than once. So, Theo tried to stay out of it, pressing water on Auggie to try to minimize the damage the next day, making sure Auggie didn’t fall down at the urinal, and in general, making sure none of the kids did anything excessively stupid. A couple of times, guys approached Auggie, strangers who had spotted him and decided to try their luck. Theo didn’t do anything except cross his arms and lean forward in his seat. The first guy bumped into a table, almost knocking it over, and had disappeared back into the crowd on the dance floor before the glasses had stopped rattling. The second guy took one look at Theo and turned around so fast that he walked into another guy, and they both went down.
That time, Theo made the mistake of catching Orlando’s eye. Orlando offered a goofy grin and a thumbs-up, his other arm around the neck of a skinny blond twink. Theo looked away, face heating.
Instead of driving home, they took a cab. Auggie kept trying to unbuckle himself and climb into Theo’s lap. When he finally gave up because Theo kept clicking the seat belt into place again, he settled for pawing at Theo through his jeans, leaning over to nuzzle at his neck, kissing and biting where Theo’s neck joined his shoulder.
“Auggie,” Theo said, pushing him back for what felt like the hundredth time, “cool it.”
But nothing helped, and by the time Theo had tossed cash over the seat to the driver, Auggie was working on Theo’s fly. Theo half-carried him inside, and when the door shut, Auggie began turning himself out of his cardigan and getting more tangled in the attempt. He stopped suddenly, staring at Theo with glassy eyes, and said, “Help me.”
Laughing, Theo tugged on one sleeve, then another. He undid the buttons on Auggie’s shirt while Auggie hopped out of his jeans. As soon as the last button was done, Auggie shouldered the shirt off. Cotton whispered as it brushed his back and puddled on the floor. Then Auggie was naked. And hard. He started on Theo’s fly again, yanking on the zipper.
“Easy,” Theo said with another laugh, taking Auggie’s hands in his own and moving them away. “If you want anything to play with down there, I mean. You had like a mini guillotine thing going in the back seat of that cab.”
With a drunk’s equanimity, Auggie steadied himself with a hand on Theo’s shoulder and said distinctly, “I want your dick.”
“Let’s go upstairs,” Theo said.
Under his hands, Auggie’s shoulders were smooth and warm. His eyes kept coming back to the contrast between his lighter skin and the soft brown of Auggie’s back. Something was knotting and unknotting itself in Theo’s gut, faster and faster. He missed a step and had to catch himself on the wall. Then Auggie missed a step, and Theo had to grab him around the waist to keep both of them from pitching back down the stairs. Auggie’s weight against him was familiar, he smelled like tequila and cologne and that smell that was distinctly Auggie. The younger man ground back against Theo, rubbing his ass on Theo.
“You’re hard,” Auggie said, and the words had a triumphant thrill.
“Yep,” Theo said, shifting his grip to get Auggie moving up the stairs again.
Auggie reached back, fondling Theo through the jeans as they stumbled up the steps together. “You’re so big. And so hard.”
Theo made a noise that he meant to sound cool, controlled. He heard himself, and he thought, Swing and a miss.
“You’re hard for me,” Auggie said. He slipped free from Theo at the bedroom door and darted forward to jump onto the bed. Six-point-six on the landing because he slid across the quilt and barely missed the nightstand. Then he flopped onto his back, spread his legs, and planted his feet to put his ass on his display. He reached down to spread his cheeks. His hole was lighter than the skin around it, and he was smooth. Auggie adjusted his hands, but he didn’t actually touch himself—he kept his hands on his cheeks. “You want to fuck me.”
Theo had to try twice to get the first button undone. It had been a long time. Not that he always had to top, not that he even needed to top, but it had been a long time. And what was worse was that it had been a long time of wanting Auggie, of wanting to be with him, of wanting to give him whatever he wanted. The shirt fell away. The air inside the house was cold, and goose bumps tightened the skin across his chest. Something was tangling itself and then untangling in his gut. It’s ok, Theo thought. It’s sex. You and Auggie have had sex before. In this room, in fact. Plenty of times. He undid the button on his waistband and shucked his jeans. When he pulled his boxers down, his dick was hard and heavy, and his balls ached in that pleasant, this-is-going-to-be-a-good-come kind of way. The socks went last, and then he crawled onto the bed.
“Kiss me,” Auggie ordered, and when Theo got close enough, he released his cheeks and got up on his injured elbow to meet Theo’s mouth. One kiss turned into another. Auggie was making soft noises, and then he scooted around until his dick made contact, and he began to hump Theo.
“Slow down,” Theo said.
Auggie kissed along Theo’s jawline. His pupils were huge, and he was still making those tiny fucked-out noises.
“I said slow down,” Theo said, one hand to Auggie’s belly to force him away. “You’re going to finish before we even get started.”
Auggie made a broken noise that was full of so much pleasure that it almost undid Theo. He had to take a deep breath. He had to check all the walls, all the gates. You’re allowed to enjoy it, he reminded himself. It’s supposed to be fun. Auggie sat up, and they switched, Theo stretching out on the bed so that Auggie could straddle his hips. Auggie’s mouth found his collarbone. Then he licked his way through the blond hair on Theo’s chest. Then he found a nipple and latched on, the sucking turning to nips, the nips turning to harder bites, Auggie sometimes closing his teeth around the nipple and turning his head to pull. Theo heard his first woof, when he really felt it and started to leak, and he scrabbled to come back.
You’re allowed to enjoy it, he told himself again. But not too much. Don’t get carried away.
Auggie switched nipples, and after a few more minutes, he tore another of those sounds out of Theo.
Not too much, Theo thought, but it was the last cry of a drowning man, and he was going under.
Auggie kissed his way across Theo’s belly, stopping to nuzzle at him, breathe him in. “You want to fuck me? Yeah, you want to fuck me. Your cock is so fucking hard right now. It’s so fucking huge; you’re going to split me in half.” The tip of his tongue touched Theo’s slit, and the electric sizzle made Theo sit up halfway. Auggie was looking at him, and their eyes met, and Auggie’s tongue darted out again to lick around the head of his dick. “You’re going to drill me a pussy tonight, aren’t you? With this fat cock, you’re going to drill into my hole, and then it’ll be a pussy because a pussy is meant to take cocks.”
Theo heard his breathing in his throat. He couldn’t look away from Auggie’s eyes as Auggie bent to take his dick in his mouth. He didn’t get far, bobbing on the head, but it was like being wrapped in a sheet of fire. Theo’s jaw hung open, and when he tried to shut it, Auggie swirled his tongue and it dropped open again.
“S-slow down,” Theo said. Not too much, he told himself. Remember what happened with Ian. Remember what happened with Cart. “Auggie, get up here. I want to kiss you again.”
Eyes hooded, Auggie shook his head again. He went down on Theo, taking more of him, and then—this was a first—all of him. Auggie held himself there, nose buried in Theo’s pubes, shaking his head. And then Theo felt it, Auggie’s throat milking him. It only lasted an instant before Auggie pulled off, gasping and spitting. Saliva sparkled on his lips and chin. He offered a sloppy smile, head weaving, propping himself up with one hand so he wouldn’t fall over.
“I want you to,” he murmured. “I want you to rip me a pussy.”
“Not tonight,” Theo said.
“I want you to.”
“Not tonight, Auggie.”
“Yes, tonight!” The drunken petulance made Auggie sound younger. “I want you to fuck me tonight. I’m so fucking horny, and I want your dick, and I want it to be you.” He steadied himself, rising up on his knees. “Fuck me.”
“Not when you’re drunk.”
“I told you to fuck me!”
“You’re not in any condition to make that decision, and you’re certainly not ready—”
“I’ll never be ready, Theo! And how am I supposed to get over it if I don’t try? It’s never going to get better if I don’t try!”
“Nothing has to get better. You’re fine. I love being with you—”
But Auggie was already shaking his head, crabbing his way up the bed on his knees to straddle Theo again. To himself, he mumbled, “I’ll do it myself.” He got himself into position, wrapped a hand around Theo’s dick, and stroked him a few times. Theo was still, against all reason, hard. Then Auggie set himself and began to lean back, guiding Theo’s dick between his legs.
For a moment, the spin inside Theo, that place of restless movement, was too disorienting for him to do anything. It was like the night Auggie had been pushed into traffic, or like so many other nights before and after, when Theo couldn’t do anything but hold on. I’ve tried, Theo thought. And the words had the clarity of a rung bell. I’ve really tried. I’ve tried to be good. For years, I’ve tried to be good. And it had been years. Years of denying himself. Years of holding back. Years of always being responsible, always being the adult, always being cautious and thoughtful and considerate. Years, he could see now, of paying penance for one mistake, one mistake he could never set right. Years that he had been spinning, held in place by his own momentum like a top, because one day, years ago, an asshole had changed lanes without signaling.
Auggie’s head hung back, his face lit on one side by the light from the lamp, shadows falling across his throat and shoulders to accent the definition of slim muscle. He arched his back. The tip of Theo’s dick brushed between his cheeks. Auggie’s jaw tightened, his eyes closed. A hundred thousand years ago, it might have been like this: the savagery of firelight, skin, sweat. Both bodies knowing what to do.
Theo grabbed Auggie by the throat, and Auggie’s eyes snapped open. They were glazed, and they moved slowly to take Theo in, almost unresponsive.
“You want my dick?” Theo tightened his grip. “Do you?”
Auggie whimpered and nodded. He was trying to sit up, but Theo held him in place, his back still bent, unable to bring his head up.
“Then you get my dick when I’m ready, understand?”
Auggie nodded.
“Get off me. On your knees, at the end of the bed.”
Theo held him a moment longer until Auggie gave a frantic nod. Then he released him. Auggie scrambled down to the foot of the bed, crouching on hands and knees, staring up at Theo. Theo arranged the pillows behind him, propping himself up. He took his time. Auggie was making faint, distressed noises, so Theo went more slowly, plumping the pillows, adjusting them. When he’d made Auggie wait long enough, he settled against them and spread his legs. Then he caught Auggie’s eyes, held him for a moment, and pointed at his dick.
Auggie crawled up to him. He started to take Theo in his mouth, but Theo made a noise deep in his chest, and Auggie looked up, his face blank with panic. He tried again, licking Theo’s balls, just little licks, lapping at them. When Theo didn’t stop him, he got bolder, taking them in his mouth, rolling them on his tongue, sucking, gently closing his teeth. Theo knew what Auggie needed; he’d known almost since the first day, in that firelight way at the back of his brain, known in a way that had made everything harder because, in a way, it would have been so easy. The orders, the commands, the clear instructions, the boundaries, the feedback, even the deep voice—they were all one side of the coin. But what Auggie really wanted was the other side.
Theo made a pleased noise and spread his legs farther. He watched the shiver of pleasure work its way through Auggie. You want to get fucked, Theo thought in that place of shadow and shifting firelight, that old, primal place inside himself. You don’t have any idea what you want. But I’m going to give it to you anyway.
He caught a handful of Auggie’s hair and pulled him up a few inches, and Auggie immediately began licking the shaft of Theo’s dick. Theo let him work there for a while, making gratified noises occasionally, enjoying the way Auggie reacted to the sounds—the goose bumps on Auggie’s shoulders, the way he humped up the bed, trying to get as close to Theo as possible, the way his spine curved like Theo was trailing a hand along it. That gave him an idea, and he released Auggie’s hair so that he could stroke it gently. Auggie let out a half-sob and went into a frenzy of licking.
“Suck,” Theo said.
Auggie devoured his cock. He tried to take it all the way, and when he had to pull back, gagging, the despair in his face was so real that Theo had to stop him, force Auggie’s wild eyes to meet his. “Slowly,” Theo said. “Do it right.”
Auggie nodded desperately until Theo released him, but he must have heard because he went more slowly, and after a few minutes, he took Theo to the root again. He hummed. His throat tightened and massaged Theo’s dick. Then he pulled back, licking the head, licking the slit, sucking hard to pull blood rushing into the tip so he could attack it, and then devouring Theo’s cock again.
From anyone else, it would have been the blow job of a lifetime. From Auggie, for Theo, it was more. Inside Theo, everything had gone still. His skin hummed like a high voltage was running through him, and he could feel the snap and crackle of the orgasm waiting, electricity ready to arc between him and Auggie. It was more than that, too, though. Everything had fallen away between them, all the walls that Theo had tried to keep up, all the doors and locks. To see, Theo thought, the voice in his head a muzzled thing. And to be seen.
Then it was too much, and Theo recognized that they had passed the tipping point. The buildup was slow, but it was inevitable, and he felt it curling up through him. “Good,” he whispered, stroking Auggie’s hair. “You’re so good. You’re so good for me, Auggie. Oh fuck, you are so fucking good.”
Auggie made a noise, dropping down to take Theo to the root again, and suddenly the suction and pressure and tightness of Auggie’s throat and mouth seemed to double. Theo had one glimpse of Auggie: ass in the air, face buried between Theo’s legs, the roll and swell of muscles, all of them defined and tight under his skin, all of them seizing at the same time. Auggie was still making that high-pitched noise, sucking Theo like his life depended on it, when Theo came. It was like something ripping him apart from the inside. He was vaguely aware of his hand spasming on the back of Auggie’s head, holding Auggie down as he bucked into Auggie’s mouth. Then there wasn’t enough left of him even for that. And then, blinking, still vibrating with the charge of what had passed through him, he tried to tell himself it had felt good. But that wasn’t true. It had been intense in a way that had nothing to do with good or bad.
Auggie coughed, and Theo realized he was trying to back off. He released Auggie, and the younger man sat up, hacking and gagging, hands on his thighs as he leaned forward and tried to clear his airway.
“Oh shit,” Theo said. “Oh shit, Auggie, I’m sorry.”
When Theo slid over to Auggie, he felt the warm wetness, and he shifted to see what had happened. The puddle of come was soaking into the quilt, directly under the spot where Auggie had been kneeling. Auggie’s dick was red, almost purple, but it was already softening. The tip glistened with the last few drops of his load. Theo tried to wrap his head around that, about what it meant. You’d better be careful, was the best thing he could come up with. You’d better be really careful if that’s what you can do to him.
By the time those thoughts had been spent, Auggie was wiping his mouth, his breathing normal again, albeit a bit harsher than usual. He gave a wobbly grin when he noticed Theo.
“Was that ok—”
Theo kissed him. He brushed hair back from Auggie’s sweaty forehead. He kissed him again. Then he kissed his temple, his forehead, the crown of his head. He pulled Auggie’s face to his chest, held him for a moment, and let him go so he could study his face again. Auggie’s grin was bigger. He looked at the wet spot on the bed and then he looked away, shifting his weight on his knees.
“I, uh—well, it got kind of intense. For me.”
“Kind of intense,” Theo echoed.
Auggie must have heard something in his voice because he glanced over, and whatever he saw on Theo’s face made some of the cockiness flare in his next smile. Theo took him in his arms, and they lay together, and when they cooled off, Theo pulled the quilt over them. Auggie was already slipping under the troughs of booze and sex, his body relaxing, unspooling in Theo’s arms.
“I love you so much,” Theo whispered when he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Are you ok?”
“Love you too,” Auggie mumbled.
When Theo was sure he wouldn’t wake, he got out of bed. He walked the house, arms tight around himself, and somehow, he ended up in the bathroom. He made himself look in the mirror because anything else would have been cheating, because he owed Auggie this much, and a little voice at the back of his head said, And Ian. And Cart.
You shouldn’t have done that, he told himself. Because now it’ll be worse. Now he’ll hold on even tighter, and you’ll ruin his life. You’re already ruining it. He has one chance, and you’re stealing it from him.
He turned on the water. He rested his elbows on the sink. The light above the mirror seemed too bright, and he had to squint.
You should kill yourself, he thought, and for a minute, the need for the pills was so strong that it felt physical, dragging on him like a strong wind. He put his head in his hands. He closed his eyes. You should go out into the trees, he thought, and blow your fucking brains out.
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