The rest of the drive was … not relaxed, exactly. Ross was still a bit too pent up with his own thoughts for that. But he no longer felt like he was struggling to breathe.

He’d said it. He’d told someone.

That evening, rushing back to the hospital to see Mom, fear rattling around in his bones that he’d be too late because Jeremy had guilted him into coming with him as his date to some event … it had been the worst moment of his life, but also in a way the best. Because that had been the moment that he’d realized how far he’d let himself fall, how bad Jeremy was for him.

Until that point, he’d been making excuses for all of Jeremy’s behavior and telling himself that he was ungrateful, or a bad boyfriend, or whatever, for feeling frustrated with how Jeremy acted. It probably was partially because Jeremy would tell him those things.

But he couldn’t put all of the blame on Jeremy. He’d allowed it to happen. His own insecurities and his instinct to take care of the people he loved, to serve them, so to speak … that had contributed to it. He’d been the one who’d chosen not to stand up to Jeremy. He could’ve done it at any point in the relationship.

Maybe it was a bit of victim blaming, but Ross saw it as a learning opportunity. He could learn how to behave next time—he’d learned to stand up for himself. To recognize the warning signs. To better understand what a relationship should and shouldn’t be.

He had to think of it that way. If he thought of himself just as a passive victim who’d had no part in it, that meant it could happen to him again at any time, and he refused to think about it that way.

And if nothing else, he owed it to Mom to never let that happen again. She’d been so understanding through the whole thing. So selfless. She should have demanded more of his time. He should have instinctively given it to her.

It was all his fault.

He owed it to her to make sure that nobody else in his life that he cared about ever felt neglected like that. That he never allowed one thing or person to take over the rest of his life and mean he missed out on the important moments, the precious, few moments.

He hadn’t told anyone about it. Even through all of the condolences and the funeral planning, and slowly coming back to seeing everyone at the bar. Jeremy had encouraged him to give that up, told him it wasn’t worth the long drive, introduced him to his friends instead.

Now, Ross knew that was one of the ways that abusive people behaved—they isolated you from your friends, and made sure you were dependent on them for all of your emotional needs. Or at the very least, only hung out with people of whom they approved.

But at the time, he’d thought it all sounded so sensible. Why should he drive all the way down there? Why didn’t any of them drive all the way up to him? Why not find some friends who were right there in the city, who were already friends with his boyfriend?

He’d apologized, at the funeral and again when he’d first started coming back to Joe’s, for his yearlong absence.

Nobody had commented on it. They’d just welcomed him back with open arms. And he’d thought, Oh, this is what friendship is.

It had almost made it harder to tell them. If they’d demanded to know why he had stopped coming around with no explanation, he would have had to tell them the whole story.

But they’d seemed to assume that it was Mom’s illness that had kept him away. And so he’d never found the right time to talk to them about it. Probably because part of him was a coward, and didn’t want to see the pity or frustration in their faces.

Telling it to Tom, though, that had gone pretty well. Tom seemed more concerned about sympathy over his mother then babying him about Jeremy, and Ross appreciated that. Tom didn’t ask what he’d been thinking, or how it got to that point—as if abusive people started out the relationship as assholes, as if they were assholes 24/7, as if it was always easy to figure out what was happening—which had been what Ross had feared.

Instead he’d just listened, and was now sitting in comfortable silence, still letting Ross take the lead.

Ross appreciated it more than he knew how to say.

“Thanks,” he said. It was inadequate, but the only thing he could think of. “For listening. And all that.”

“I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me,” Tom replied. “It can’t have been easy.”

Ross nodded. It hadn’t been. But he felt so much better now that he’d said it out loud to someone. It was like he was finally letting it go. “If you don’t want to try and make this a serious relationship, you don’t have to. And of course there’s no, y’know, no pressure to do anything fast or big or whatever. But I wanted to be clear about what I wanted, and to do that I had to be honest with you.

“Because, I don’t know since I haven’t been in a relationship since Jeremy, but I might have some hangups that I haven’t realized yet. And it wouldn’t be fair to you if I had some odd quirks or some demands in the relationship without explaining to you why I had them.”

“I appreciate that,” Tom said. “I don’t think everyone would be so considerate of that. They’d just … not say anything, and let it crop up and be a problem.”

“Jeremy and I had a lot of problems with communication. Mainly where I didn’t say all the things that I should have. I didn’t stand up to him the way that I should have. Going into this, just going forward in general, I want to try to say what I’m thinking. And I’m thinking, I’d like to try this with you.”

Tom gave him a small, tentative smile. “Okay.”

Ross sensed that Tom was still thinking about his job, about his commitments—but that was all right. He wasn’t proposing marriage or anything. They could take their time. “On a lighter note, should we go back to my place or yours?”

Tom’s smile grew. “My place, I think. What with the leg and all.”

Tom was remarkably good with his crutches by now. Which Ross supposed made sense, seeing as the guy had to use them constantly. He only needed a little help with doors and things as they got up to the apartment.

The apartment was definitely smaller than Ross’s, but nice, with art hanging on the walls, a comfy, well-worn couch, and a stack of books on the coffee table. Homey, in other words, in a way Ross’s wasn’t, since he was running around a lot.

Combine his spacious, gorgeous apartment with Tom’s homey touches … ah. That was getting ahead of himself. Tone it down.

Ross waited until Tom was in the bedroom before sidling up behind him and kissing the side of his neck. “I think,” he said, sliding his hands around to toy with the hem of Tom’s shirt, “that you should be rewarded. For being so understanding and all that.”

“Oh yes, I’m rewarded for being a decent human being,” Tom replied, laughing, but he let his head fall back onto Ross’s shoulder anyway, giving Ross better access to Tom’s neck.

“Can’t do as much to you as I want,” Ross admitted. He moved his hand down to lightly cup Tom through his pants. “I want to get inside you again. But until then … how about I get my mouth on you instead?”

Tom groaned, turning his head to kiss Ross’s jaw. “Yes, please.”

Ross loved how Tom let him be in control. How he trusted Ross to take care of him. He helped Tom sit back on the bed and worked his clothes off, slowly touching everywhere that he could, careful not to jostle Tom’s leg. Tom let his head fall back, breathing hard, one hand bracing on the bed and the other tangling in Ross’s hair.

Ross slowly worked his way down Tom’s body. He couldn’t go too fast or too rough, or Tom would jerk or move instinctively in response, and possibly hurt his leg. So he kept it slow, teasing, sucking and licking at every part of him until Tom was a trembling mess.

Ross avoided touching Tom’s cock, instead working around it, even licking at Tom’s hole for a minute before biting down lightly on his thigh. Tom breathed heavily through his nose, biting down hard on his lower lip and obviously trying to keep from begging.

“Y’know,” Ross said, after he sucked a remarkably large hickey into Tom’s thigh and Tom’s cock jerked in response, smearing precome across Ross’s cheek, “one would almost think you want something.”

Tom glared down at him, but there wasn’t any real anger in it. “Are you going to make me beg?”

“How about you say please?” Ross replied, smirking up at him.

“Please,” Tom replied, his voice hoarse.

“Please, what?”

“Please, I want you to suck me, I want your mouth on my cock, please.”

“Very good,” Ross told him, and then he swallowed him down.

Tom groaned, his hand tightening in Ross’s hair, words spilling out of him now as Ross slowly worked him over. Ross hand his hands at Tom’s hips, helping him to stay still, but he could feel Tom trembling all over.

“Oh, fuck,” Tom swore as Ross swirled his tongue around the head of his cock before plunging back down again. “Fuck, Ross you—I’m—your mouth, Christ’s sake—”

Ross hollowed out his cheeks and sucked, hard, and Tom let out a low, final groan, coming down Ross’s throat. Ross didn’t much care if he made a mess of it while he was at it. Tom looked so damn pretty, all flushed and panting, eyes glazed and mouth open.

He kissed Tom’s hipbone, watching as Tom slowly came back to awareness, watched his face go from slack to alert.

“Get up here,” Tom ordered, his voice a wreck.

Ross grinned, more than happy to do so, and let Tom kiss the life out of him, licking into his mouth and tasting himself on Ross’s tongue.

Tom groaned, pushing himself up on one hand and moving the other hand between them, getting it underneath Ross’s pants and grabbing his cock.

“Want to help a guy out?” Tom panted, grinning. “Get those pants off for me, let me see you, touch you properly?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Ross replied, quickly shoving his pants down and out of the way. He took his shirt off too, for good measure, groaning when Tom licked at his nipple.

Tom got his hand around Ross’s cock again, working it fast, his grip tight. Ross braced his hands on either side of Tom’s hips, straddling Tom’s good leg as he let Tom work him over, his forehead falling down to rest on Tom’s shoulder.

“God, I wish I could do more to you,” Tom confessed. “I want you inside me again; I want to be able to touch you without worrying about this damn leg. The second I’m out of this cast, I want to do whatever you want, I want you to take control of me like you did the other night—”

“I will,” Ross promised him, sucking on Tom’s neck, kissing his shoulder. “I promise, we’re going to have so much fun once your leg’s better, I won’t let you out of bed for a week—”

Tom groaned, twisting his wrist, and then Ross was coming all over Tom’s chest and waist, marking him.

Ross made sure to fall to the side, away from Tom’s bad leg. “Mind if I clean up in a minute?” he asked.

No way was he going to make Tom try to hobble around and clean up.

Tom laughed wearily. “Take your time. I’m not moving for a while.”

Ross grinned at him. He really couldn’t wait until that cast was off. They were going to have so much fun.

“Thanks,” he said again. Just because he felt like it.

“For what?” Tom asked.

Ross leaned over and kissed him. “Just for being you.”

Tom’s smile was sweet and bright and everything Ross wanted.