A red tainted Silence (48 page)

Who the hell had emptied it? A giggle escaped me, followed by a loud burp.

“You’re so stupid, Brandon,” I said out loud. “You did, you dickhead.” Shit. Damn. Fuck.

I was getting drunk.

Good.

I picked up number five, six, whatever, popped the top, and drank that one down, too.

Amazing how fast that could happen. Pop, zoom, swig it down, and that was that, bottle empty ... Yeah yeah yeah. Who loves you, baby? Corona does. The Corona people love you, Brandon Ashwood, you drunken bastard, you.

My dad would kill me for getting drunk, but then, he didn’t give a shit about me anyway now that I was gay, so what did it matter? I wondered what he’d told my mom.

I missed my mom.

280

Carolyn Gray

Tears welled in my eyes. For a second, I thought about stumbling back inside and getting my keys and going to see her or maybe calling her, but what would I say? I’d just cry, and then she’d feel sad, and I didn’t want to make someone else I loved sad. Couldn’t bear it.

Shit.

I chucked the bottle into the bushes and folded over, running my hands through my hair and gripping hard. I sank my fingernails into my scalp, welcoming the pain. I bit my lip against the drunken despair rolling through me. Everything was so messed up, and it was because of me. Me me me me.

“Brandon?”

I looked up to see two Nicholases standing in the doorway, clutching blankets to their chests. No, just one. One Nicholas, one blanket. Okay. I looked down again, not wanting him to see the tears on my face. And that I was drunk. Oh, shit, why did he have to come out here now? The porch boards creaked as he walked up to me. He draped the blanket -- his blanket -- around my shoulders.

It smelled like Nicholas.

“Thanks,” I whispered and cowered beneath the folds.

The swing moved as Nicholas sat next to me. “Are you okay?” He reached down to pick up one of the empty bottles. I watched his hand set it back down again, heard his sigh. “I guess you’re not. Had a few, babe?”

“I -- I’m okay.”

“Uh-huh, and so is that lasagna.”

A wild giggle burst out of me at that. “It burned.”

“Yes, I can tell. Amanda’s going to have our hides for that.” He sighed. “Oh, Brandon, did you drink all of these?”

I sniffled, feeling an overwhelming desire to cry again. All I could do was nod, but hot tears coursed down my cheeks. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He’d pulled on his jeans, but otherwise wore nothing else, his pale skin luminescent in the faint porch light.

I wanted to reach out and touch him, stroke his smooth skin -- but I didn’t dare. I didn’t know what to say.

He caught me looking and smiled. But his eyes were as red-rimmed as mine, his face pale as the moon. He reached out to touch me, then let his hand drop. He looked away and stood.

“Well, it’s kind of chilly out here. I guess I’ll go back inside. I -- I’ll sleep on the couch, if that’s okay with you. I think you should go upstairs now, get some sleep.” Wild panic shot through me. “No!” He turned back and looked down at me. “Don’t leave me, Nick,” I said. I opened the blanket, praying he would understand. Praying he would want to -- I knew he didn’t like beer. And now I was pretty stinky with it.

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With only a moment’s hesitation, he came back to the swing and let me fold the blanket over us both. I pulled him tight to me, wincing as a soft sob escaped him. My dick hummed with anticipation, I swear it. A renewed flush warmed my whole body at the feel of his cool skin against my own.

“Are you drinking because of me?”

I sniffled again. “Yes. I mean no. I don’t know.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t --”

He pulled away then, his expression angry. “No, stop it, Brandon. I hurt you. I’m not an idiot. I really thought you were doing okay there, and so I just went and banged away at you like you were a ... a ... meatloaf or something. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“A meatloaf?” I said with a sloppy grin.

He shrugged, but a laugh escaped him. “It’s what came to my mind.” He shifted on the seat so he could look at me. “The point is, I lost control.” He shook his head, his gaze fixed on the blanket. “I thought you were liking it, that you were okay.”

“I ... I did for a minute. It felt --” I broke off, feeling my face heat. “It was the best thing I’d ever felt in my life. But I ... I guess I didn’t realize what it would be like.”

“You hadn’t ever really done that before, had you? You’ve never been with anyone?

For real?”

“No.”

He slapped his forehead. “And you told me that. I am a fool ...” Nicholas dwindled off, shaking his head. He reached for my hand. “I should’ve remembered.”

“I should’ve maybe told you again.” I reached for another beer, but he pulled me back.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so carried away.”

I flushed, and this time it wasn’t from the beer. “I -- I kinda liked it.” I hiccupped. “I mean, seeing you like that, before we -- In the driveway, against the tree --” I gulped. “I need another drink, I think.”

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

“Mmm.” I stared longingly at the bottles left and found myself leaning over, falling against Nicholas. With a sigh, he wrapped his arms around me and held me, kinda awkward given our positions on the not-too-comfortable swing.

“Yes, I think you’ve had enough,” he said with a soft chuckle.

“My butt hurts, Nicholas.” I buried my face in his shoulder.

He hugged me tight. “I shouldn’t have let my lust for you get out of control.”

“You lusted me?”

He chuckled. “Of course I do, babe. Does it hurt bad?” 282

Carolyn Gray

“I don’t know. I’m kinda numb right now.” I reached for my backside and touched the offended area. “Yeah, it still hurts a bit.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I closed my eyes, but everything started to swim around me. I felt nauseous, so I opened my eyes again and took a deep breath. I couldn’t sit like this anymore. Not because of my sore backside, but because my limbs felt like jelly and I was afraid I’d fall off. I slid down so my head was in his jean-clad lap, then pulled my legs up onto the swing. I felt the soft cushiness of his dick and turned my head to nuzzle it, making him giggle and squirm.

“Cut that out.”

“Ha. Made you squirm.”

He laughed. “Yes, you did, silly.”

He shifted position and started to stroke my hair. It felt so good, so sweet. My brain was muddled, but not so much my fears didn’t resurface. I was so scared -- but I had to ask him. I didn’t have anyone else to ask and I should’ve asked, but ... Oh, shit, Brandon, just blurt it out. I could always claim later it was the alcohol ... Unless it really was the alcohol.

“Nicholas?”

“Yeah, babe?”

I looked up at him. The porch light illuminated his face. “What if ... what if I can’t do it?”

Nick’s eyes widened at that, and he burst out laughing. “Oh, baby, it’ll get better, I promise. You did just fine. It was me, not you. We just need to go slower, that’s all. I need to go slower.” He touched me on the chest. “Fucking your brains out can come later. I shouldn’t have gone crazy on you just yet.”

I smiled at that. “You did kinda get crazy.”

He smiled shyly at me. “Only because I want you so bad, Brandon.” I bit my lip, looked away. “You really still want me?”

“Of course I do. Granted, I think maybe we’ll have to do things a bit differently, but that’s okay. Maybe you should be top.”

“No!” I said, nearly barking out the word. “No, no.”

“It’d probably be simpler. I’m so easy. All I have to do is drop my pants and I’m ready.”

“Nicholas!”

“No, really. You sure you don’t want to try?”

“N-no,” I stuttered, my face heating. No, that wasn’t supposed to be how it should be. I couldn’t -- I didn’t want -- I groped for his hand, the one stroking my hair. I gripped it, tight, unable to say what I wanted to. The alcohol had loosened my inhibitions but had frozen my brain. I sat up and leaned against him, my head pressed against his neck. He pulled the blanket tighter around us.

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“Why not? It’s fun being top, I promise you.”

“I couldn’t do that, Nicholas. I ... I need you to -- I like it when you make me --” I cut myself off, groaning in embarrassment. “I don’t know what I mean,” I whispered.

“I think I do.” He kissed me on the cheek, then suckled my neck just beneath my ear.

Cascading shivers raced from where he’d kissed me, down to my groin. He chuckled and released my hand to place his own over my arousal. His fingers kneaded me, stroking my shaft through my boxers as I hardened beneath his touch.

“You know what I mean even though I don’t know what I mean?” I said, breathless.

Oh, man. I parted my legs, arching my back so he could do with me what he wanted to. And, oh, I wanted him to. To do anything. The Coronas had dulled my senses, but not my desire, that was for sure.

Nicholas breathed against my hair, hot and moist. I gasped as he gently sank his teeth into my earlobe, then nuzzled my neck. He ran his hand possessively up and down my chest, tweaking my nipples, spreading his warmth across my stomach just above my waistband.

Tease. I dropped my head back against his arm, helpless to move as his mouth slowly and surely explored my neck. His hand slipped inside my boxers, and I gasped, pushing into his fingers.

He kneaded me. I covered his hand with my own, thrilling as he manipulated me. The world spun around me, yet I felt still and calm as he claimed me with his hand. He reached deeper. I drew one leg up onto the swing, giving him better access, and he took advantage of it. His probing fingers brushed against my sore opening, and all I do was push against his fingers, my body instinctively craving what it had felt during those brief moments of utter bliss, pain be damned.

I sure hoped that car didn’t come back by.

“You need me to do this for you,” he whispered. “So you know it’s okay, what you’re feeling. There’s a part of you that no one suspects, no one knows except for me. Only me.

The part of you that needs to be dominated, possessed. To be taken and commanded.” He chuckled. “Okay, maybe everyone at Karen’s party who watched you play piano while I sang might suspect. And maybe at the bookstore. But they don’t know the half of it. Do they?”

“No,” I whispered. “They don’t. They won’t.”

I looked with wonder into his eyes; my head was still thrown back onto his arm, my neck exposed to him. He really did understand what I barely understood myself. Looking at us, even those who knew we were intimate with each other, most would assume pretty diva Nicholas was the feminine one of us, the one who was cosseted, dominated, possessed by the other. But that wasn’t so. It was me. I was the one who craved it, had to have it, to feel complete. I needed the safety that Nicholas gave me, his calm assurance, his private strength.

That he understood brought tears to my eyes.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

284

Carolyn Gray

He touched my boomerang necklace. “You’re welcome, baby.” My head reeled from too much alcohol and the overwhelming emotions that simple endearment brought me. He pulled the blanket over me, hiding my lower half. Not that anybody driving by wouldn’t know exactly what we were doing, but by then I couldn’t have cared less.

I groaned as he brushed his lips against mine, and his tongue explored my mouth as he continued stroking me, rimming me with his fingers while I leaned helpless and passive (and helplessly responsive) in his arms. I’d soon become addicted to him doing that to me. His mark of possession -- touching me where no one else was ever allowed to touch me. At least not like that.

His hand’s movement quickened, and I found myself panting, groaning, thrashing my head from side to side, craving more despite the dull ache that warned against intrusion just yet. He moved his hand to my shaft, stroking and pulling on me and rubbing my weeping head, chuckling softly into my ear as I pumped shamelessly. The whirling tingle of impending explosion filled me, and I cried out as I spilled, hot and hard, into his hand, clutching his thigh with one hand, the blanket with the other.

He continued to kiss me as I slowly came down from the heights he’d taken me to, until I broke free, still panting, and collapsed against him. I nuzzled his shoulder and kissed his neck. He still held my dick, caressing it with his fingers. I gave a few half-hearted pumps into his hand, and he finally released me.

“I messed up my boxers,” I said, still panting. I couldn’t catch my breath, and everything was getting kinda whirly on me.

“Yes, you did.” He kissed me again, resting his sticky hand on my chest and rubbing the moisture I had given him into my skin. Anointing me with myself. I wanted to anoint him the same way and did so, rubbing my essence into the soft fuzziness of his chest.

“I -- I love you, Nick.”

“I love you, too.”

“I’m drunk, Nick.”

He chuckled. “I know, babe.”

“Nick?”

“Yes?”

“Think the neighbors saw all that?”

“No, they’re probably all asleep. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay. It’s crazy, but I really don’t. Worry about it, that is.”

“You are drunk. Let’s go inside. Back upstairs. You need to go to sleep.”

“I don’t think I can make it upstairs.” I laid my hand over my eyes. “I think I’m drunk.” A Red-Tainted Silence

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“I thought we established that already. Come on, let Nicholas take care of you.” He hauled me to my feet, then pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

“I love it when you take care of me.”

“I know. I love it when you take care of me, too.” I grasped his face unsteadily with both hands -- the damn porch wouldn’t stop swaying -- and brushed my lips across his. I looked into his eyes, and he returned my gaze without wavering. “I love taking care of you, too. We take care of each other, don’t we?”

“Yes, Brandon, we do. Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He led the way upstairs, tugging me gently after him. He looked over his shoulder and smiled in encouragement at me --