Fear of the rest of the world had prompted me to stay the next few days in the Bronx, and I’d quickly developed a new routine.
Morning sex, make coffee and breakfast, go to the fitness center, wander the neighborhood while Val was at work, make dinner while he was at Cadet’s, and then fuck ourselves to sleep. Three rounds per day was starting to look like the average, give or take a blowjob. I loved giving him head and got to my knees literally any time the urge struck me. Which was often. And I loved how turned on he was by my need to have it be messy and dirty and loud. The jury was still out on whether his neighbors felt similarly. They would likely be relieved that I was headed back home.
Regardless, the routine and the amazing sex were only part of the reason why I’d spent the week on cloud nine. Somehow, in the past week, I’d freed myself from all technology and social media and was ignoring the world. I had no idea what the gossip columns were saying and hoped they’d moved on to the next thing by now, but I didn’t care either way.
All I cared about was this happy bubble Val and I had formed around ourselves. I knew it wasn’t perfect, and I knew I was trying to trap us in a fantasy that he warned me wouldn’t last, but the longer I could avoid real life . . . the better.
“What’s wrong?”
I smiled when Val came up behind me, arms around my waist and mouth pressed to my ear. Several days of getting to know every part of his body, and I still wasn’t used to all of this affection. I turned my face to kiss his nose, then his mouth, but couldn’t bring myself to pull away. Not when I was forcing myself to leave what had become my tiny haven. I slid my tongue into his mouth and coaxed out a response until he was pinning me against the dresser and grinding up on my ass.
“Convince me to stay,” I said between presses of our mouths. “Please?”
“Mmm.” Val broke the kiss with a soft moan. “You really want me to?”
“Sorta. I literally have nothing to do with my time but attend events. Why can’t I stay with you?”
“Forever?”
“Sure. I wouldn’t mind.”
Val paused with one of his hands cupping the growing bulge in my boxers—well, his boxers. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious. Waking up with you and going to bed with you is like . . .” I dropped my head back against his shoulder and stared up at the cracked and water-stained ceiling. “I don’t know what it’s like. I’ve never felt this way before.”
“What way?”
Shrugging, I closed my eyes. “Happy. Content. And . . . taken care of?”
“You’re the one who’s been taking care of me,” Val said. “You’ve been here cooking for me and encouraging me to take vitamins and go to the gym. I have no fucking clue what you’re getting out of this arrangement.”
I snorted and ground back against his semihard dick. “Usually guys I fuck around with are just in it for the sex, and then I’m on my way until next time. With you, I get dick from a really hot boxer, but I also get cuddles from a really sweet guy, and lots of teasing and banter about my reality television addiction from my annoying best friend. And I’ve never felt this . . . cared about. That’s not enough?”
“It’s enough.” He buried his face in my hair. “I hate that you say things like that. That you’ve never felt cared about.”
“I haven’t. Can you think of anyone who feels anything for me besides you?”
“Your friends?” he asked hesitantly. “They seem to care about you.”
“Yeah, but that’s like you being satisfied with just Matt. They’re friends, but they’re not . . . It’s just not the same.” This was getting depressing. “Listen, don’t try to ruin it by finding other people to nominate for the job of caring for Ashton. I like you doing it.”
He laughed softly. “I don’t know, Ashton. I just wish this could last.”
“Then convince me to stay!”
“I want you to, but you made plans with your friends. And honestly, you’re a distraction and the fight is in two weeks.”
“But you just said—”
“I know it doesn’t make sense to you,” Val said. “But I need to focus, and when you’re here, all I want to do is fuck the hell out of you.”
I made a sad face, pouting up at him prettily, and was rewarded with another long kiss. I upped the ante by sucking on his tongue, a move that never failed to get him going, and he responded accordingly—tugging me backward before pushing me down onto the bed.
“Parting sex?”
“More or less.” Val knelt at the foot of the bed. “I really just want to watch you come. I love that face you make—the way your mouth drops open and your eyes roll back like you’re losing your mind. I used to think about it a lot.”
My breath caught as I kicked off my boxers. “You thought about my O face?”
Val nodded, gaze running all over me. “Sometimes I stared at your face more than your dick when we jerked off together. You got so into it . . .”
My lips curled up as I lay back with my body on full display. “Like the night of my party?”
“Yes. I fantasized about that night so many times. How you stared at me with that wrecked look on your face, and then your whole body clenched up when you came. I heard those moans for months.”
An arc of fire went through me and exploded, going directly to my dick. With zero modesty, I spread my thighs and started stroking my dick as he looked on with a ravenous expression. For all that Val had been hesitant at first, he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off me, or his fingers out of me, now.
“I’d love to make those sounds for you right now,” I said. “And maybe again later on.”
“We’ll see.”
With a broad grin, Val coated his fingers in my saliva, and then worked two of them into my hole. I stroked my cock while he fingered my ass, milking my prostate while my toes curled into the bed. I lost half my body weight in pre-come and smeared it everywhere, loving the stickiness and the mess.
“Let me suck your dick,” I breathed. “We can both come.”
Without a question, Val straddled my chest while facing away. He went back to massaging my sweet spot while I deep-throated his cock. The tremors taking over my body were just as intense as the ones that struck during a serious workout. My thighs trembled and my hands grew unsteady. White noise filled my head with an incredible rushing sound as I pulled my mouth off his dick to release a hoarse cry.
“God, your fingers are perfect.” I gripped his erection, clumsily pumping it while my lips grazed the tip. “So close already . . .”
Val grunted and massaged me with more intent, rubbing my spot until my eyes watered. My mouth gaped, wrecked sounds slipping from me at a steadily increasing volume. I wanted nothing more than to rock down on him and lose myself in the sensation of being fingered to oblivion, but I was dedicated to getting him off.
I took him down my throat again, and I could feel him swelling in my mouth. His hips jerked, pushing deeper down my throat, and he went off with a gravelly moan. Semen filled my mouth, sliding over my tongue and moving down the back of my throat. I moaned around the thick length of him. The taste of him, and the sound of his hoarse gasps, brought me to my peak. I released so hard I felt like I was losing my mind, seeing supernovas and hearing white noise, and trying hard not to accidentally drag my teeth against his dick as I shuddered.
We shifted on the bed so we were beside each other, both in need of cleaning up but neither of us moving. I settled for copious number of Kleenexes.
“You’re making this really hard for me to stick to my guns,” Val said after I finished.
“That’s the point.”
Val exhaled slowly. “Look, it’s like this: my trainer isn’t real happy with me lately and neither am I. And if I don’t win this fight, he’s gonna drop me.”
“What do you mean, drop you?”
He shrugged. “It’s not like he’s gotta stick with me. Most trainers do it for free unless they’re famous. One of the other trainers drives a truck during the day. He makes no money working at the gym.”
“Wait . . .” I propped myself up on my elbows and stared down at him in confusion. “Why the hell would they work for free?”
Val kept gazing up at the ceiling just as I had only minutes ago. “Why do I fight for free? I won’t see a payday unless I go pro. And, even then, it’s just not about that for me. I love the sport. It was the one thing my father cared about, and my mother . . . she was so proud of my talent. You know that more than anyone.”
I knew it, but I didn’t get why he continued when it didn’t make him happy. “If you love the sport but don’t care about it making you rich or famous, then why . . .” I braced myself. “Why compete and get your brains beat in if you’re not in this for the eventual money and titles?”
Val frowned, and his body tensed, as if he was fighting the part of himself that thought he should care about winning and the part of himself, which was so familiar to me, that wasn’t very competitive at all. “If I don’t compete, then what was the point of me training so hard all this time? I’d be letting everyone down. If I do go pro, the purses could pay off Hana’s tuition. And Tony would be—”
“You’re not fighting for Tony,” I said sharply. “Are you?”
“He’s done a lot for me. He’s been there for me when no one else was. When my dad walked out and my mother died. You know? He has high hopes.”
“Okay, I get that—”
“Do you?” Val pushed himself into a sitting position and stared down at me. We were sweaty and sticky, but edging our way into the first argument of the week. “Because you’ve always had people around you, man. You had family. You didn’t need someone else, an outsider, to take you in and make you feel like you belonged.”
“Oh really?” I lifted my chin. “Then explain to me why I was closer to you and your mother than the rest of the Townsends. They may have been my blood, and they may have been around, but they wanted nothing to do with me. Even as a kid, they thought I was weird or likely to be queer and embarrassing.” I could still clearly remember the day my father had dragged me to the bathroom and threatened to shave my head if I didn’t get a proper haircut, or the way he’d banished me to my room during family parties and functions when I refused to dress and wear my hair “appropriately.” And then how my mother had thrust me into modeling as a last-ditch effort to “make use” of my androgynous appearance. “Maybe you didn’t want me around at first, but eventually you and your mother and Hana became my safe people.”
Val looked away from me and got to his feet. I sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for his hand.
“I know you hate talking about it, but it’s true. You guys were forced to be around me, but I loved you all so much. And I appreciated how much time you all—”
“I get it.” Val ran a hand over his head. “I understand. You do know how it feels.”
The flat tone put me on my guard, but I pushed past it. “Then please consider what I’m saying. If you like to train more than you like to fight, why not be a trainer? You love that part of the sport. You love to train. I can tell when we go running or when we go to the fitness center.”
“Because no one wants a trainer who isn’t worth a damn,” he said. “And I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“I could help. I know a lot of people who would love a personal trainer with Silver and Golden Gloves wins under his belt.”
“Ashton, no.” He grabbed his underwear off the floor and stepped into them. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, and I love that you want to help me, but handing me rich friends to train isn’t gonna help me. I don’t do charity or handouts. It’s bad enough you paid for that entire fitness-center thing.”
I swallowed my tongue rather than argue.
“And being a personal trainer isn’t what I want to do. If anything, I’d train boxers. But no one wants an amateur boxer to help them train.” Val shrugged. “It is what it is. I’m fine with my life the way it is now, and I’m fine pushing myself to fight. I owe it to Tony, and after all this time, I may as well keep going.”
The gulf of differences that made up our lives and our experiences widened in that moment, and I couldn’t argue anymore. I was here to love him, not to try to instruct him on the many ways he could change his life.
“I’m happy if you’re happy,” I said softly. “Just tell me if there’s anything I can do.”
That brought a slow smile to Val’s face and the shadows and stress retreated. He turned around with his jeans half on and gaping open, and ran a hand through my tangled hair.
“Just keep being you, Ashton. Because this—” he pointed to himself and then me “—is what makes me happy.”
I hadn’t realized those were the words I’d needed to hear right then, but they were. Warmth filled me, a shot of joy straight to my heart, and sent me arching up to draw him into another long kiss.
Ashton pressed himself against me during the entire drive from the Bronx down to the Upper West Side. He kept one hand at the base of my neck, massaging and squeezing out the kinks, while he trailed kisses along my neck and face. I’d never been lavished with so much attention or affection, and I was starting to fear what life would be like without it. Going back to my eighteen-hour days and life of solitude without this man who was made of sunbeams and sex was almost like a nightmare, and I lived that nightmare every night.
Dylan wouldn’t let me have this. It didn’t matter that I was in love with his brother. All that mattered to him was his business.
“You’re so tense,” Ashton said as we parked in front of his building. “I thought I’d sucked the anxiety out of you.”
I snorted a laugh. “If only it was that easy.”
Ashton unclipped his seat belt and peered out of the car. He looked different somehow—less composed and done up. Less camera ready.
“I don’t want you to leave yet,” he said, pouting. “Can we have dinner?”
“You’re not allowed to cook for me anymore. Seriously.”
He rolled his eyes. “I won’t cook. But . . . some friends of mine are coming over to ‘welcome me back to the world’—their words—and I thought maybe you could stay?” Ashton shot me a look. “I’d like them to meet you. If that’s okay.”
The idea filled me with more of the anxiety he’d just been complaining about, but I couldn’t tell him no. “Who? Charles?”
“No, not Charles. He’s off on a Royal Caribbean cruise working in a cabaret show.”
Ashton said this like it was the most normal thing in the world, but I couldn’t get over the fact that these were his friends. Cabaret performers, models, actors, socialites, CEOs of dating apps . . . and then of course there was me. I closed my hands around the steering wheel and tried to ignore how much I wanted to drive away. Ashton hadn’t run away from my life in the Bronx. I needed to make an effort to be part of his.
“Fine. Just for a while. I have to go to the gym later on.”
“Awesome!”
Ashton got out of the car, probably trying to escape before I changed my mind, and I reluctantly allowed the Camry to be parked. He whipped out his phone as we made it to the elevator and chattered with someone about bringing food, wine, and something sweet. He also shyly said that I was with him. It was that soft-spoken admission that had me pinning him up against the side of the elevator door once he ended the call. I kissed him until we reached his floor. A preppy-looking couple gaped at us once the doors opened, probably scandalized by my torn jeans and leather jacket contrasted with all his golden beauty, but Ashton just beamed.
“Hey, guys!”
We stepped out, but the couple didn’t go in.
“Hey, Ashton. Is this your new . . .” the lady waved her hand, clearly not knowing what to call me, “friend?”
“I’m his boyfriend,” I said, making the executive decision to label myself as such.
Ashton snagged my hand. “Yes, this is Valdrin.”
“The boxer,” the guy said. “I saw an article online.”
Why these people thought they had a right to discuss our personal lives, or make it be known that we were tabloid fodder, was beyond me. Where I was from, that kind of shit got you a fat lip, but they stood there in their expensive workout clothes openly analyzing me. The guy was smirking, but the woman’s eyes were running along every line of my body. Didn’t hesitate to check out the bulge action. They hadn’t introduced themselves, but they weren’t shy about staring at my dick. I shifted uncomfortably and squeezed Ashton’s hand.
“Well, we’re going to go,” he said, taking my cue.
“Have fun,” the lady said, still staring me down. “He looks like a live one.”
“Uh . . .” I didn’t even know what to say. “Okay . . .”
“Maybe we can get together some time,” the guy said. “Valdrin can tell us about boxing.”
Ashton tilted his head, biting his lower lip, and affecting a confused expression. “I didn’t know you watched boxing, Gabe. Or any sport. You once told me professional athletes were overpaid circus performers.”
I snorted, but Gabe wasn’t fazed in the least. He just grinned.
“We can still have a good time.”
“True.” Ashton started dragging me down the hall. “I’ll let you know.”
Their gazes burned into my back as we went down the hall to his door. I was glad once we were locked in the safety of his stark white apartment.
“What the fuck was that?”
“They’re swingers,” Ashton said, shedding his jacket. “But asshole ones. Most people I’ve met in the lifestyle are really respectful and amazing, but those two think the community exists just to be their personal meat market. Ugh.”
Why was I surprised that Ashton hung out with swingers?
“So, you’ve fucked them?”
“No! God, no. I don’t mess around with women, you know that.” Ashton picked up his phone again. “But I’ve seen them around enough to know a few things.”
“Uh-huh.” It was a bad sign that I was starting to grit my teeth at the mention of him having been with other people in the past. Jealousy wasn’t a good look on me. I released a slow breath and sat on the couch. “Well, they clearly thought I was a fucking idiot but a piece of prime cut.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” he said, curling up beside me. “I’ll kill them if they ever insult you.”
“Ha. Now you’re starting to sound like me,” I said. “I love it when you get mad.”
“Because you’re a sick bastard.” Ashton sent out a text and tossed his phone onto the floor. “My squad will be here in approximately thirty minutes, give or take the traffic. Just enough time for me to ride you.”
“We just had sex literally forty-five minutes ago.”
He grinned and climbed onto my lap, straddling me. “And I’m horny again. Imagine that?”
I cupped his ass with both hands, squeezing as I rested my head against the couch cushions. “You’re greedy.”
“For you? Totally.”
“Mmm.” My body was already reacting to his, but I held off. “Aren’t you worried this thing between us is starting to become too consumed by fucking? We can barely get through a TV show without one of us grabbing the other’s dick.”
Ashton arched an eyebrow. “And that’s a problem?”
“No. Not really. But I don’t want our friendship to get lost because we spend every minute getting each other off.”
“Don’t be silly.” Ashton reached between us and ripped open my jeans. “We’re just making up for lost time.”
He had my dick out before my brain could catch up with his actions, and then I was his. Head thrown back, mouth open, body a writhing mass as he jerked me off just enough to bring me to the point where I was so hard I could do nothing but squirm. After he stood up to snag a condom from his pocket, I slathered my rubbered dick in saliva and hoped it was enough.
Ashton sank down on my dick, taking in every inch and showing no sign of discomfort other than his puckered brow. Once he’d settled on me, and I’d pushed through his resistance, he closed his eyes with a dirty little smile.
“I love feeling so full,” he breathed. “And I love how those big hands hold me so tight.”
I dug my fingers into his hips and lifted him up for one deep thrust. He reached behind himself to brace both hands on my knees.
“Ride me,” I ground out. “Fuck yourself on my dick.”
Ashton rose up and then slammed himself down. His ass slapped against my thighs, and the sound of skin against skin spurred me into motion. I jerked up, stuffing him to capacity, as he bounced on my cock with enough speed and force to make me completely lose my cool. Not that I had any cool when it came to sex with Ashton. I was too busy transitioning from someone who could take or leave physical contact, to a person who needed to touch the person I was so in love with.
I lifted my hips to meet him each time he lowered himself. With his sweaty forehead pressed to mine and our eyes locked, he braced one hand on my shoulder and reached down with the other to stroke himself off. The sight of his widening eyes, gaping mouth, and the sound of his anguished little moans led to me fucking him so hard that all sense of time flew from my mind.
By the time someone knocked on his door, we were both drenched in sweat and he was spilling all over my stomach. I bit my lower lip hard and lifted my hips faster, driving into him deeper, and nearly choked trying to silence myself once my orgasm hit.
“Damn,” I gasped.
Ashton’s entire body shuddered. “I fucking concur. My God.”
I grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him in for an out-of-breath kiss. I loved the feel of his lips and pounding heartbeat against my own after sex. I loved how he folded himself around me with contented sighs. I just fucking loved him.
“Someone’s at the door,” I rasped. “And we’re a mess.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Ashton eased up off me with another mmm sound, but instead of standing, he trailed kisses down my neck. “They can wait while we clean up. I’m sure they can entertain each other.”
“How many damn people are there?”
“Umm . . .” Ashton hummed against my neck. “There’s Mere; Jace and his husband, Aiden; Steph; and she brought this guy she likes—Sharky. Well, his real name is Angel.”
My eyes opened again. “Ashton, is this some kind of quadruple date?”
“Sort of. Mere is our Bridget Jones.”
“What the fuck?” I twisted away from him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t know until they were all on their way. Apparently they got excited when I told them you were here, and everyone brought whoever they were with.” Ashton frowned. “Sorry. I’ll, um, kick them out. If you want. I figured you would take off after an hour, anyway.”
I did want him to cancel this shindig, but there was no way I was going to say it.
“Fuck. Just. Let’s just get washed up.”
“Okay . . .”
I shook my head at him and strode to the bathroom, expecting the next hour to be awful.
Maybe Ashton was right. We should have stayed in our bubble.