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Shelter the Sea (The Roosevelt Book 2) by Heidi Cullinan (8)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Jeremey

Watching David and Darren work together was interesting.

At first I couldn’t decide if I should help or not, because they each have physical limitations that don’t exactly go together—David’s paralysis and Darren’s jerky mobility issues because of his autism. Something told me I should let them sort it out, though, and so I did. It took them a lot longer to get organized and settled at David’s computer than if I had helped, but they managed it. David would have asked me if he needed assistance, and I trusted Darren would have done the same.

Soon they were engrossed in their work. Darren became excited when he discovered a cable that allowed him to hook his iPad into the back of David’s system, and then he could use it to talk more easily to David as they worked. I’d forgotten how jarring it was to speak to Darren for long periods of time and hear the evidence of how brilliant he was, something it was easy to dismiss when glancing at his shuttered exterior. I’d never seen him like this, though, working with someone, helping them. All this intelligence was going to waste every day at Icarus, and it upset me.

I got out my phone and opened the notepad app so I could talk to Emmet without either of the others overhearing me.

I don’t like that he’s stuck at Icarus House on his own. It makes me sad to think of him there when I know he would be happy at The Roosevelt.

Emmet accepted the phone when I handed it to him. He typed a reply to me, but he also added initials and colons in front of our words because he needs things to have order.

E: I will look into my ideas for helping him more. I was distracted by another project, but I am free to pursue the Darren issue now. Though I worry I won’t find any good answers. What he needs is a job. Money is a big problem.

I replied, adding my initial this time so I didn’t upset Emmet. J: Maybe he could help people with computers the way he’s helping David. Maybe he could be an aide too.

E: I don’t think Bob could afford two aides.

This was true, especially given the shaky status of The Roosevelt itself. I hated money so much.

J: Maybe Darren could be David’s aide and I could get another job. I didn’t know what other job that would be, and the thought made me queasy, but I would find a way to get over myself if I had to, if it meant getting a place for Darren to stay.

E: You can’t give up your job for Darren. Also, Darren isn’t physically able to do what you do for David.

I hadn’t thought of that. My shoulders slumped, and I leaned into Emmet as I typed. J: I wish life weren’t so hard all the time. It makes me so sad.

Emmet held my hand and squeezed it. His squeezes are slightly awkward, but I like them because they’re his. He surprised me by letting me go and turning to hold my face carefully in his hands and kiss my forehead before he took my phone. E: Please don’t let depression take away your party. Darren is having fun right now. You should have fun too.

This was a good reminder, the kind of thing Dr. North would say to me. I nodded, then kissed his cheek and whispered, “Thank you,” into his ear.

Emmet took the phone again.

E: I want to have sex with you later.

The request was a bit out of the blue, but that’s how sex was sometimes with Emmet. He never missed a chance to plan it if he could. I blushed, thinking about sex with Darren next door.

J: We will have to be quiet.

E: You will have to be quiet. I am always quiet. You’re the one who makes noise during sex. Do you want me to do research on what kinds of sex will keep you quieter?

I laughed, and he frowned, because he hadn’t meant his comment to be funny, which made me laugh again. I kissed him on the mouth, and replied out loud this time. “No, I think I can handle it on my own.”

We played Mexican train dominoes soon after, though Darren and David talked all the way down the hall, discussing software. David didn’t mind that Darren’s replies took time as he typed into his iPad, though while Darren and I arranged our seats at a table to play and I made space for David’s chair, I heard David asking Emmet if maybe sometime he could teach David to at least understand some of Darren’s sign language so he didn’t have to type into the iPad. I smiled to myself, pleased to see the two of them were already so friendly. I liked how our group of friends was growing. Emmet was right. Darren would make a great Roosevelt Blues Brother.

Train dominoes went about the way it always did, which is to say it was fine for me and a blood sport for Emmet. There aren’t any actual trains involved, only that you put your dominoes in a line like a train, but between the name and the math of it all, this was Emmet’s favorite game in the world, and he played to win. Unfortunately so did Sally, who had also sat at our table, and I soon learned Darren wasn’t holding back either.

David and I didn’t exactly sit on our hands, but neither of us cared a whole lot about the game, not compared to the others. I think David would have been more into it if he could have moved his own pieces, but as it was he had to tell me which ones he wanted where and I had to place them for him. Some of them he was able to nudge forward, but laying them on the table was too delicate of work for his hands, and so the task fell to me. I didn’t mind, but it was boring for him, when all he could do was tell me which tile to pick up and where to put it down. I didn’t care much about where mine went, since if I did well, other people had to lose, and all I ever wanted was for other people to be happy and not upset with me. This drove Emmet a little crazy, but he was too focused on beating Darren to scold me for my poor play this time.

Darren won the game, which wasn’t ideal for Emmet, but he’s a good loser, and I think he was happy when he saw the prize for the winner: a pair of Bluetooth headphones. Darren hummed and hissed and hit the thank you button over and over on his iPad. They were nice headphones. I was glad Darren had won them too.

By this time it was almost midnight, so we turned on the television and watched the ball drop in Times Square. It was a time delay, of course, because midnight in New York had happened an hour ago. Though the party looked exciting, I could never in a million years go to anything as busy as that, but we had fun cheering and clapping at our party.

And then it was time for bed.

I gave Darren a tour of our apartment with Emmet, showing him where everything was, making sure he knew he was welcome to anything he needed. “I put fresh sheets on the bed, folded the way you like them. I remember how, I think, from when we were roommates. If they aren’t right, I know you’ll fix them, but I tried to get them close.”

Darren smiled, his nostrils flaring. He signed thank you—it was his kind of signing, which I don’t know a lot of, but I knew the Darren thank-you sign.

“You’re welcome.” I gestured to the room. “I put towels on the bed too, for when you want to take a shower. Emmet will give you a tour of the bathroom, because he has more rules about how it should be used. But there aren’t any rules about my room. I put all my things away so it wouldn’t be cluttered. Emmet helped me autism-proof it, but if something bothers you, don’t hesitate to tuck it into the closet or whatever you need to do. You know me. I’m not going to mind.”

Darren stood still for a long second, no reaction, no movement. Then he signed, his gestures quick and jerky, his body rocking as he punctuated each hand flick with a soft moan.

He must have been speaking to Emmet, because Emmet answered in the same sign. He seemed a little flustered to me, but I didn’t know why. Eventually he turned to me, his gaze fixed on my shoulder. “Darren would like to hug you. I told him it was okay so long as it wasn’t a boyfriend hug.”

I blinked, first at Emmet, then at Darren. But Darren doesn’t hug anyone, I wanted to say, though of course I didn’t. I only nodded. “Sure.” Then I stood still while I waited to experience a Darren hug.

I tried to think if Darren had even touched me before, outside of accidental brushes of hands as we’d exchanged objects or passed each other in hallways. I couldn’t think of any instance where that had happened. He was so touch averse, worse than Emmet. I wondered what I had said that had made him want to hug me, and why.

He approached me slowly, someone working up to a challenge. Darren was almost as tall as me, if he stood straight, which he normally didn’t. Normally he didn’t stand at all, preferring to sit on a couch or in a chair. Now he was before me, as if he were about to take me in his arms and lead me in a waltz, and I felt flustered. Darren was handsome, with dark hair and a pretty face, with sweet eyes. It was easy for people to not notice, to only see the external expressions of his disability, the way his body folded in on itself, the way it flattened him out and made him seem different than people on the mean. Right now, though, all I saw was a handsome young man, and I understood why Emmet had been unwilling to say yes.

Darren opened his arms and wrapped them around me like a vise. I couldn’t hug him back, because my arms were trapped, pressed against my chest and rendered useless. His grip was rigid, controlling every element of the hug. If it were Emmet hugging me, or someone on the staff, or David, I’d have put my head on their chest and relaxed into the embrace. Something told me not to do this with Darren. It occurred to me his pinning my arms hadn’t been an accident. For Darren hugging me meant just that, him hugging me and not the reverse. He could pin me, but not me him.

So this was a Darren hug. I’d never seen this before, let alone experienced it. I had a feeling few people had. I went soft inside, letting the privilege of my initiation sink in.

When he released me, he didn’t look at me, but I smiled at him, biting at the side of my lip. “Thanks, Darren.”

He made a thanks sign at me, and then he went into my room and closed the door.

Emmet hadn’t shown him the bathroom, which I worried would be a problem. But Emmet took my hand and led me into our bedroom. Immediately he drew me into his arms, embracing me in his own kind of awkward, though the tension in his touch made me touch his face, kiss his cheek.

“Emmet, are you okay?”

His hands on my back gripped my shirt. “I don’t enjoy seeing other guys hold you. Even if it’s Darren, who I know only likes you as a friend. It makes me feel tight and scared inside.”

Emmet was jealous. The thought made me melt into goo as I rushed to soothe him. “Oh, Emmet. I could never love anyone but you, ever. No matter who held me.”

“I know, but it’s not fun seeing other people touch you.”

I nuzzled Emmet’s jaw—carefully, so as not to stimulate his senses in a way that would make him uncomfortable. “You can touch me now. Wherever you want to.”

“Take off your shirt, Jeremey.”

I took it off, handing it to him when I was finished. He carried it to the hamper and tucked it neatly inside. “I’ll wash it with my clothes and return it to you.”

I didn’t give a damn about my shirt, but I nodded. “Thank you.”

Emmet stared at my neck, but I knew he was also looking at my entire torso, admiring it. Thinking of what he wanted to do to it. To me. I bit my lip, the same place I had when I’d smiled at Darren, except now I wasn’t smiling, not at all. Now I was breathing long and slow, waiting for Emmet.

“Touch me,” I whispered, when I couldn’t wait any longer.

He put his hand in the center of my chest, splaying his fingers. I shut my eyes on a gasp and a breath, then opened them and watched as Emmet ran his fingers up and down, painting invisible lines across my skin with the pads of his fingers. My belly quavered, and eventually I had to clutch my fingers against the door to keep myself still for him.

“Is my touch too soft? Too hard?” he asked, fingers slowing to a halt at my belly button.

I shook my head, watching his hand. “It’s all good. I like it. All the feelings.”

“Do you want me to touch you more? Maybe without your pants?” His fingers tightened into a brief ball. “Maybe while I kiss you?”

Yes.

I tilted my face toward his mouth as he kissed me, moaning and canting my hips into his hand as he fumbled with my jeans. I had to help him with the jeans, and the kiss was clumsy because he was doing two things at once. Nobody’s ever going to mistake our make-out sessions for porn shoots or movie moments. I don’t care, though. He had his hand on my dick, and his mouth was on mine, and during the whole of it, I was in his arms, and he mine. I surrendered to the feel of him, the comfortable, safe space that was Emmet Washington.

When we stumbled to the bed finally, I only had my socks on, and I lay there watching, content and happy as Emmet undressed before he moved over me. He took our cocks together in his hand, brought mine in to help. Together we guided ourselves with a bit of lube toward release. Our breathing was heavy, bodies tight as we chased it—I shut my eyes and let go to the sensation of his body sliding against mine as we both fought for our orgasm. I listened to the sounds he made, the ones we made together, remembering, vaguely, the need to be quiet. Mostly, though, I spun out of my head, high on the feeling of being with the man I loved so much, until it was too much to bear and I cried out, my feelings and my ejaculate pouring out of me all at once. As I fell onto the bed, Emmet followed suit, coming onto my stomach, though he did so silently, with only a few gasps and soft grunts.

I lay there afterward, ready for sleep as he cleaned me up.

“Is it still okay if I sleep in here?” I could barely open my eyes, and my body felt like lead. I thought I should get the answer to this quickly. “I can go to the couch. It’s okay.”

“I want you to stay.” Emmet finished wiping himself off, put his pajama bottoms on, and climbed into bed beside me. “I had an idea. I thought, if I feel like I need space, I could put pillows down the middle.”

I smiled at him sleepily. “That’s a good idea. We should get a big bolster, if it works. Then maybe we could sleep together more often.”

Emmet pulled me to his body, tucking me close enough so my head rested on his shoulder. “Right now I want to hold you. Is that okay?”

I inhaled, long and slow, letting the scent of Emmet fill my nostrils as the weight of his body surrounded me, the thrill of the release he’d given me still humming inside of me. “Yes. It’s absolutely okay.”

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