I WAS NOT A VIRGIN. Not by any stretch of the imagination. While my liaisons had been few and far between, especially over the course of the last fifteen years in the military, I was experienced enough to know what I was doing and how to bring another man pleasure. However, nothing could have prepared me for how receptive and responsive David would be. I had long suspected that I was skating on virgin territory with him, and it took a lot of balls for him to admit it to me. But that admission woke something in me. Most of my previous experiences had simply been about opportunity. Two guys hooking up with the sole purpose of getting their rocks off. With David, it was utterly different. I felt a need to make it good for him, to satisfy him. I found my satisfaction became secondary to his. And while that desire was at odds with what I normally felt, I also found that I was quite alright with putting someone else first, thank you very much.
I had always had a protective streak. That streak had reared its head in middle school when playground bullies would pick on Ryan. It had solidified in high school when those same bullies would accuse him of being gay just because he was kind of nerdy and dorkish. I found the irony hysterical, the nerdy dorkish guy’s the straight one and his big, burly, Marine brother is the homo. But then, all I knew was that someone was picking on the person I felt closest to, and I wasn’t going to stand for it.
That same protective streak had now unfurled itself and encompassed David. But it had become so much more. I didn’t just want to protect him, I wanted to take care of him. I wanted to chase away the ghosts of his past, of which I suspected there were many. I wanted to show him that he didn’t have to be trapped in whatever had happened to him before. I wanted to be the one that showed him there was still goodness out there, despite all of the darkness.
I hadn’t planned what had happened on his couch, but I sure wasn’t sorry for it either. Watching him let go was the most exhilarating experience of my life. It was like he had opened up and I could see the light inside. The trust he had placed in me was heady, and I found I wanted more. I cherished it because at some instinctual level, I knew he didn’t trust easily. I suspected trust had cost him dearly before, and the last thing I wanted to do was violate that trust.
And then there were the scars. We had never discussed it. I knew them for what they were. I had seen similar ones on guys’ arms when they thought they had nothing else left. Men who had been strong and fierce before going overseas, and returned nothing more than a shell of what they had been. I continued to allow him to believe I still hadn’t seen it. Until he was ready to talk about it, until that level of trust had been instilled in him, I swore to myself that I wouldn’t bring it up. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him, and I suspected that whatever had driven him to that point still had its claws in him. I caught a glimpse of it again while we were on his couch, and it hit like a gut-punch. No one should feel that the only way to ease the pain is to end it all. I knew from experience that scars on arms were simply physical manifestations of ones carried deeper on the soul. I had seen those scars in his eyes before, the looks of skepticism and shades of fear.
The look of bewilderment and embarrassment he had when he answered the door spoke volumes about what he thought of his situation. I immediately felt the need to erase that. He never needed to feel embarrassed around me, and he needed to know that.
That was part of why I’d kissed him. The other part was that I really wanted to. Yes, we had gone out a few times over the past month, but I had been so busy dealing with Ryan and Lucas that I didn’t think I had been able to give him the attention he deserved. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he questioned what was going on between us. Hell, sometimes I did. The timing always seemed…off. So, I had resolved that that night would just be about us, him and me, no interruptions. Pizza, beer, and pop. Just us. Sex wasn’t planned, but it was most definitely the cherry on top.
After, as we sat there on his couch with our joined hands in my lap, I couldn’t help but to think that I could stay like that forever. It was an odd thought to have, really. It should have scared me, but it didn’t. I had felt drawn to him from the beginning, and that simply solidified it for me. I lied when I said I had him. The truth was, he had me.
I lifted his hand to my lips, kissed it, and asked, “Washcloth?”
I had a dual purpose in asking. Sure, I wanted to get us cleaned up. But I could also see that his shirt was a mess. I knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t change it in front of me, not without revealing the scars. I wanted to give him the chance to change without revealing too much to me.
“Bathroom. Shelf over the toilet.”
I padded pantsless into the bathroom and pulled a towel and washcloth from the shelf. Turning the faucet to hot, I ran the cloth under the water and counted. He’d need time, and I would give it to him. Hell, I needed time. Sex had been unexpected for me, I could only imagine what was running through his head. Most guys would get off and leave, and I had to wonder if he thought that’s what I was about to do. Maybe with others, but not with him.
I wrung the washcloth out and draped the towel over my arm, and went back into the main room. Sure enough, David had changed. He now wore a navy-blue long-sleeved T-shirt and was just pulling a pair of sweats from his dresser drawer.
“Wait. Sit.”
He did without hesitation, still holding the sweats. I knelt beside him on the couch and used the wet cloth to gently clean his cock and balls. He swelled a bit from my ministrations, but I didn’t want to press my luck. Once done, I dried him with the clean towel. Standing, I did the same to myself. He stood beside me and pulled on his sweats as I knelt and picked my underwear and jeans up from the floor.
As I pulled them on, I glanced at him. He wouldn’t look at me, probably thinking I was about to bolt.
Not a chance.
Zipping my jeans but leaving them unbuttoned, I leaned in and kissed him, soft and gentle. I tried to reassure him with that simple act, and I think it worked. I could see him visibly relax by degrees.
“Hungry? I think we worked up an appetite.”
He gave an embarrassed smile before answering. “If I wasn’t before, I am now.”
“Pizza’s probably cold by now. Mind if I use your stove to reheat it?”
I could tell he was confused. “Wouldn’t a microwave be faster?”
“It would be. But then the pizza ends up tasting like rubber. Got a baking pan?”
He came and stooped next to me, opened a cupboard, and pulled out a small cookie sheet. “Will this do?”
“Yep. Watch and learn from the Pizza Master.”
He chuckled as he handed me the pan. I set the stove at three hundred twenty-five and slapped four slices on the pan.
“The secret,” I explained, “is to not overcook it so it tastes like cardboard. Preheat the stove, then throw it in for about five minutes, and, voila, good to go.”
He looked suitably impressed by my culinary talents, such as they were.
I popped open the fridge and pulled out a beer for myself and popped the cap off. “Beer? Pop?”
He chewed on his bottom lip, debating his course. I found the act endearing. Before he could answer, I pulled a second beer out, twisted off the cap and handed it to him, leaning in to give him a kiss.
I could seriously get used to the taste of his lips.
I leaned against the counter and watched him take a tentative first sip from his bottle. Shyly, he said, “Thank you for coming over.”
I grinned despite myself. “I really did miss you.”
Shy David was an adorable David. “You’ve been busy. I get it. And, anyway, it’s not like we haven’t talked or gone out.”
“No, it’s not, but it also hasn’t been…right.”
He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
I thought a moment, thinking through what I wanted to say. “Everything’s just been so…rushed since Lucas’s diagnosis. I haven’t had time to concentrate on things the way I want to. And I don’t think I’ve been fair to you.”
He seemed surprised by this admission. He took a long pull from his beer, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. “You haven’t been unfair to me.”
“I feel that I have. You deserve to feel like you’re not being put on the back burner.”
“I don’t. Adam, your nephew’s going through chemo. Your number one priority should be your family.”
“I know. And they are. But…” And I trailed off, words that I wanted to say lodged in my throat. I swore earlier that I wasn’t going to force him into anything he wasn’t ready for, and that went for sexually or the relationship. I still wasn’t sure what he’d be comfortable with, and the last thing I wanted to do was scare him.
“But what?”
It was my turn to feel embarrassed. If there’s one thing that the military drills out of you, it’s how to express your feelings. It’s seen as being unmanly. But I wanted to show a different side to David. He deserved to see my vulnerable side. “But I want you to be a priority too.”
I heard his sharp intake of air just before he raised the bottle to his lips. I watched him drink. Finally, he said, “I don’t have to be.”
With that sentence, I knew what I was dealing with. No one had made him a priority. He didn’t feel as if he should be a priority. If I ever met the people who put him through the meat grinder, I swore I’d break their neck. No one should feel unimportant.
I set my bottle on the counter and approached him slowly. Gently taking his bottle from him, I set it on the counter next to mine and turned back to him. He tried to look away, but I put a finger on his chin and turned his head so he had no choice but to look at me. Placing both hands on each of his arms, I said, “I want you to be.”
He turned from me, pulling himself from my hold. “I don’t understand why. Why is this so important to you?”
“Because you are important to me. David, if someone had told me a month ago that I’d walk into a comic shop, I’d have laughed my ass off. If they had told me I’d meet you there, I’d have called them a liar. You are important to me. I know it scares you. You have every right, and I’m not asking you to change how you feel. All I’m asking is that you believe me.”
“You don’t know how I feel.”
“No, you’re right. I don’t. But I think I have a pretty damn good idea. Be honest with me, you thought I was going to leave after what happened on the couch.”
His body went rigid and his head dipped. He didn’t have to say a word. His body language told me everything I needed to know. I approached him from behind and rested my hands on his shoulders. I allowed them to glide down his chest, and gently pulled him to me, his back to my front. “I’m not,” I whispered into his ear.
I felt his chest expand and he drew in a deep breath. He was trying to keep himself composed when that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted those walls to come down, to see me for who I was, and us for what we could be.
“You can’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s the truth.”
“No, it’s not. People leave.”
”Yes, Some do, I said. “But I’m not one them. I know myself, and I know that when something is as important to me as you are, I don’t walk away. It’s not in me. I know it’s a lot to ask. I really do. But I also know that we could have something fantastic here.”
“Just the sex, right?” The sense of dejection in his voice sent a crack into my heart. I turned him to face me, and I saw the tears sliding down his cheeks. I didn’t know he’d been crying and the fact that he was shattered my heart further. I pulled him to me wrapping my arms around him and held him close.
“No, not just sex. Us. I think we could be…are fantastic together.”
He rested his forehead on my shoulder and sobbed. I could only venture a guess as to why because he wasn’t very forthcoming. Instead, I combed my fingers through his hair and gently kissed his neck and shoulder, all the while holding him tightly against me. If he had a difficult time in believing, I could believe for the both of us, and I hoped that by sheer force of will, that sense of belief would seep into his body from mine.
The oven alarm finally sounded and he pulled away. As he wiped his eyes, he said, “Sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I said, and kissed his lips. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
The oven beeped again.
“Oven mitts?”
He pointed. “That drawer.”
I slid the drawer open, and pulled the mitt out as he pulled out plates. Holding the cookie dish over the plates, I carefully slid two pieces onto each plate. “Take the plates, I’ll grab us fresh beer.”
He did as I asked and I pulled two bottles from the refrigerator.
He was already seated on the couch and I had to grin. That couch had probably seen more action that night than it had ever seen before. And that wouldn’t be the last of it either, if I had anything to say about it.
I sat on the couch and noticed that he scooted toward the other end, presumably to give me room. Setting my plate on the arm of the couch, I patted my lap. “You’re too far away.”
He took the hint and slid over to me. I wrapped my arm around him and pulled him to me. He slid down until his head was resting comfortably on my lap, turned so he could eat his pizza. I draped my arm over him, not wanting to lose that connection while we did something as simple as eat. “TV?”
“Um hm.” He reached for the remote on the floor, pressed a button, and the television came to life.
As I ate, the picture on the bookcase caught my attention. It was the only personal item that I had seen in David’s tiny space. The picture was of two boys, arms slung across each other’s shoulders. One was probably ten the other maybe a little older. I could tell from the condition of the picture that it was a few years old.
With a mouth full of food, I asked, “Who’s the picture of?”
“My brother and me.”
Brother?
He had never mentioned a brother. Why had he never talked about him? Was his brother the one that had left him? Was he still even alive? I sat and stared at the picture, feeling like I’d been given some secret piece of information. All of those questions and more swam through my head. But I knew, from the tone in David’s voice, that the questions I had would have to wait. I didn’t want to ruin what we had just started. When he was ready, I had no doubt he would tell me.