Microsoft Word - Taxes_and_TARDIS-NR_Walker.doc (8 page)

He sighed. "It's the back storage room. I think it's the wiring."

I snorted. "Logan, baby, wiring is what I do."

His face fell. "That's why I didn't want to say anything. I didn't want you to think I—"

I pressed my fingers to his mouth to shush him. His eyes were wide behind his glasses, so I replaced my fingers with my lips, kissing him softly. "Call your sister and tell her you'll have someone take a look at it tomorrow for her."

He smiled, held his phone up and texted her instead, while I went back to studying his bookshelves.

"Have you read all these?" I asked.

He nodded. "Some a few times," he said. "Do you read?"

"Um, I read job cards at work and the takeout menus for dinner," I told him with an embarrassed laugh.

"But I don't think they count."

Logan chuckled. "No, I don't think they do."

I smiled and turned back to the books. I reached out

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and took
Treasure Island
, looking over the familiar cover.

"This used to be my favorite when I was a kid."

"Take it and read it again."

"Um…" I shook my head. I'm not sure I could explain what the book itself meant, what childhood memories were attached to it. "I, um…"

Logan took the book out of my hand and grabbing

my arm, he led me back to his room. He climbed onto his bed, wearing only his boxer briefs and glasses, put
Treasure Island
on my pillow and patted the bed beside him.

He pulled his pillow up against the headboard,

grabbed his own book off the bedside table and grinned at me. "I've always wanted to lie in bed with another man and just read," he said quietly. "Not your average fantasy, I know."

I smiled at him, crawled up the bed, and kissed him right on the lips. "You're such a nerd." I picked up the book, and I lay down beside him. He smiled sheepishly at me before opening his book, and for the next few minutes, he read quietly, where I just turned the book over in my hands.

"We don't have to read if you don't want to."

I looked up at him, then back to the unopened book in my hands. "It's not that… it's just… it's just this book…"

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I trailed off, not too comfortable in discussing this part of my life.

Logan closed his book and put it down on the bed.

Then he did the darndest thing. He took the book out of my hands, opened it to the beginning, and started to read the book to me.

Out loud.

Just like my mom used to do.

His voice was soft, musical, and his accent made it sound somehow even better.

I found myself lying down on my side next to him,

watching him, listening to him, mesmerized by him.

Only when he'd read the entire first chapter did he stop and look over at me. I smiled at him and told him softly, "My mom used to read this book to me."

He slid down the bed from his sitting position and lay down on his side facing me. He held the book to his chest, and his other hand cupped the side of my face. He didn't pry; he didn't push for answers. He just stared at me.

"She would read a few pages to me every night," I told him. "It was my favorite book."

"Oh, Brent," he whispered.

There was only concern in his eyes, no pity, no

doubt. Maybe that's why I told him. Maybe there were other reasons. Maybe some part of me wanted him to know,

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needed him to know.

Whatever it was, I didn't question it. I just talked.

"I had the best childhood. I was just your average kid, did okay at school, played sports. Got to high school and my parents had really high expectations, you know, football, grades… college…" I sighed. "You know, I always thought a parent's love was supposed to be

unconditional. I always thought they'd love and support me no matter what… but when I was fifteen, I told them I was gay," I finished quietly. "Well, I'd been wrong about love being unconditional."

Logan rubbed his thumb along my face. He still

didn't speak. He just listened.

"Anyway, I found out there were some things my parents wouldn't accept. Or forgive. My mother was horrified, though I think she was more worried about what her church group would think and what gossip she'd be subject to."

"And your dad?"

I exhaled loudly. "Well, he threatened to beat it out of me, and that's when my grandma stepped in, Dad's very own mother."

Logan looked mortified, so I gave him a small

smile. "I can't even remember why she was at our home, but she was there and witnessed the whole thing. She stood

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between me and my father and told me to go upstairs and pack my bags."

Logan blinked, wide-eyed, and was paler than

usual.

"I heard them from upstairs," I went on to say. "Dad was yelling about religion and God, and my grandma yelled back, telling him the only one God would be ashamed of was him. I came back downstairs with my school bag and a bag of clothes, and we left. I haven't seen them or spoken to them since."

Logan shook his head and whispered, "Oh, my

God."

"Grandma went back a few days later to get more of my stuff, but that was it. I don't know what was said that day, but Grandma never spoke to them again." I looked at Logan, and his eyes were glistening. I covered his hand on my face with my own and brought it down between us. His fingers squeezed mine. "That's my biggest regret, that Grandma died without making peace with her own son."

Logan shook his head. "Oh, baby."

I looked back at
Treasure Island
, which Logan now clutched to his chest. "I don't have many fond memories of my mother, but this book is one of them."

And then tears spilled down his temple.

I closed my eyes and whispered, "Please don't cry."

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He didn't say anything. But with a strength that

surprised me, he pulled me into his arms so my face buried into his neck, wrapped his arms around me, and he just held me.

So fucking tight.

I felt relieved that I'd told him about my parents. It was freeing. But it was something more than that. It was opening myself up to him. I'd just told him something I'd only told a few people, and I knew what it meant. I was letting him in.

It was both frightening and exhilarating.

After a long while, I broke the silence. "Logan?"

His fingers stroked my hair. "Yes?"

"Would you keep reading to me?"

He kissed the top of my head, rolled onto his back, and keeping my head on his chest and his free arm around my shoulder, he started on chapter two.

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I was lost in the story, lost in Logan's voice and the feeling of being wanted and accepted. I couldn't ever remember feeling so at peace until he stopped reading, kissed the top of my head, and whispered, "Are you asleep?"

I answered him just as quietly. "No. Why?"

"You're so quiet. You're never this quiet."

I lifted my head off his chest, looked at him, and smiled. "I could listen to you read for hours."

He smiled warmly and pulled my face in so he

could kiss me. And he kept on kissing me, wider, deeper, slower, and holding me closer, tighter. Then he murmured, hot in my ear, "How about we try making it four?"

Four.

Four? Oh,
four.
I'd forgotten my little quest to see how many times I could make him come in one day.

We were still only in our underwear, so it didn't

take much to undress. I crawled off the bed and stood next to it, pulled him by his legs so his ass was at the edge and pulled off his boxer briefs in one swift movement. I quickly grabbed supplies from his bedside drawer, and when I looked back at him, the sight made my breath catch in my

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throat.

This beautiful man, his long, pale legs splayed open for me, his cock lying long and heavy on his stomach, looked at me with darkened eyes and nodded. I lifted his legs, pushing them up towards his chest, exposing his ass to me.

I swiped my tongue down the length of his cock,

over his balls, and across his hole.

And he moaned.

Then I licked him, pressing the tip of my tongue

inside him.

And he groaned.

Then I spread lube on my fingers and inched them

inside him, stretching him, prepping him.

And he fisted the sheets at his side and begged me.

He begged me.

I quickly rolled a condom on and edged my aching

cock inside his tight, hot ass. I gripped his hips and sank, slowly, oh-so-fucking-slowly inside him. He lifted his legs higher, locking his feet behind me, giving me all of him.

And I took it.

Over and over, as slow as my body would allow, I

pressed into him, thrusting, thrusting. I leaned down to kiss him, needing his mouth on mine. He arched into me, and I pushed in impossibly deeper.

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Logan slipped his arms around my neck, and he

held me to him, squeezing me with his legs, with his ass.

His mouth and tongue were fused to mine, and I slipped my arms under his shoulders.

All I could do was roll my hips, flexing into him.

My balls were on his ass as my body bent over his. It was slow. It was sweet. It was emotion and need; it was beautiful.

And then he started to shake underneath me as his

legs rose higher, tighter, and as I kissed down his jaw and neck, I felt his cock throb between us. Wedged between our bodies, but otherwise untouched, his cock erupted. He dug his fingers into me and threw his head back, and with a silent scream, he came.

Once his body collapsed under me, his legs spread

out, releasing his hold on me. So, standing up straight, I gripped his hips and impaled his pliable body, over and over, long, slow, and deep until I surged inside him.

An exquisite fire ran up my legs and down my spine as my orgasm obliterated every cell in my body. I came so hard, so deep inside him, emptying into the condom, again and again.

I don't remember getting up on the bed. I don't

remember much of anything, but we dozed for a while before having a shower. We ordered dinner, sprawled out

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on the couch, and watched some more
Dr. Who
.

* * * *

It was after eight on Sunday morning, and Logan

dropped me off at home in his energy-efficient car so I could get my gas-guzzling truck. I'd need my tools and gear so I could take a look at Beth's storage room electrical problem.

After a quick shower, I told Tim I'd be home after lunch and suggested we do something. I felt bad for not being around much, but he said he understood. He didn't mind. In fact, he found it all very amusing.

I flipped him the bird. He told me he'd line the boys up for a few games of pool, and I told him that sounded great. As much as I enjoyed my time with Logan, I did miss spending time with Tim, and even with the others. But then he teased me for sucking up to the sister by fixing shit. I sighed dramatically. "And there I was, thinking I missed my housemate."

He laughed, tried to put me in a headlock, and all but pushed me out the door. "Say hello to the in-laws for me," he crowed. I flipped him the bird again, and he laughed louder.

I smiled as I climbed into my truck, looking forward

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to this afternoon with the guys.

I followed Logan's directions and found a quaint

little storefront with brown side paneling and gold writing on the large glass window. It was in a row of shops—a bakery, a coffee shop, a newspaper stand, and Beth's second-hand bookstore.

I opened the door, making the bell chime, and

walked in. There were stacks filled with books under different categories, seemingly placed in some kind of order and a service counter to the side. It smelled like old paper. I could see why Logan loved it. He'd be in

bookworm heaven.

Logan walked out and stopped to smile when he

saw me. "Hey."

"Hey," I replied.

"I got you a coffee," he told me, walking to the counter where there were two to-go cups.

I smiled at his thoughtfulness. "Thank you."

I took the cup and was looking around the small

store when my eyes caught the corner display. "Are those vintage comic books?" I asked, probably a little too excitedly. "Man, I used to love those."

Logan grinned at me and nodded. "Me too." He told me he'd collected them as a kid, just for fun though, nothing serious, he stressed. "Not like the customers we

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get. They go berserk over them."

I laughed, and he shook his head at me. "If you think
I'm
a nerd, you should see these guys."

I gasped. "You're an
adorable
nerd," I said, and with smiling lips, I kissed him. He blushed, a deep scarlet tinting his cheeks and down his neck. Whether he blushed because I called him adorable or because I'd just kissed him in public, I wasn't sure. But it looked sexy as hell on him.