DEREK

He wanted to move out.

I knew it was the right decision, but I hated the thought of it. A week from Monday, he’d be gone. Nine days. That’s all I had left.

Shouldn’t I have been glad? After all, this had been my plan from the start. He was making this easy for me, leaving of his own accord and not forcing me to ask him to go. Because whatever this was, it had to end soon. I’d never been in denial about that, never once considered that anything more could come of this. As good as it was, nothing could.

But still—I didn’t want to let him go. I wasn’t ready yet. He wasn’t out of my system.

I couldn’t say that to him, of course. But what I could do was be a dick about the apartments we saw that afternoon. And I was. Both of them were perfectly fine and either would have suited him, but I shot down his enthusiasm by finding things wrong at every possible opportunity.

Sure it’s close to public transportation, but not much else. God, this place is noisy—listen to that traffic!

The kitchen is okay, but the tiles in the bathroom are all cracked.

See that stain on the ceiling? That means a leak.

This carpet looks like it hasn’t been replaced since the fall of the Berlin Wall.

Definitely better in the photos online.

Even so, Maxim liked the second place well enough to leave a deposit in cash and sign a lease. It was mostly furnished, since the previous owner had left suddenly for a job out of the country, so he could move right in on Monday. All he’d really need were some new sheets and towels, which he planned to buy this week.

Inside the dingy little office of the complex manager, I watched him sign the lease with a panicky sense of dread. He was really going. I’d be alone again. Alone and drifting and scared I’d never find this kind of connection with anyone else. My throat was so dry. I wanted to speak, but couldn’t. Wanted to tell him not to sign, not to go, not to leave me. I wanted him to need me, because who else would?

Are you fucking crazy? You can’t say any of those things! You shouldn’t even be feeling them. What the fuck is wrong with you? He wants to leave, and you need to let him live his life. He didn’t come here for you, asshole. Now pull yourself together!

Summoning every ounce of strength, I pressed my lips together to keep myself from saying anything stupid. I co-signed the lease. I pushed back at the feelings trying to surface, feelings of inevitable loss and loneliness. Feelings of warmth and affection. Feelings of what if and I wish and maybe we could. I drowned them without mercy at the bottom of my heart.

I couldn’t let myself hope. I just couldn’t.

* * *

“You like it, right?” Maxim asked as we walked back to the car.

“It’s fine.”

“I think it’s perfect. I know the carpet is pretty worn and the appliances aren’t new, but it’s good enough for me.”

It’s not. It’s not.

“And I’m glad you came, because I needed to hear the other side to make a good decision.”

“Yeah.”

“God, I can’t believe it.” He stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk and shook his head. “I signed a lease on an apartment here. It doesn’t seem real!”

“Congratulations,” I said shortly.

“How far from the ocean are we?” He looked around as if he might be able to spot it.

“Maybe five, ten miles.”

“Really? That’s it?” He smiled, his cheeks flushing. “It’s probably no big deal to you, but I grew up so far from the water, the ocean has always been something exotic and incredible to me. As a kid, I used to dream about living on a coast, even before I knew what I wanted to do. And when I learned that there was a place near the ocean called City of Angels, and it was where stories were brought to life for people to watch all over the world, I knew that’s where I wanted to live. At the time, it seemed impossible.”

“Well, you did it.” I wanted so badly to be happy for him, but all I could think of was myself. God, I’m such an asshole.

“I did it. I’m doing it.”

By the time we got in the car, I’d made up my mind to say something supportive. “You should be really proud of yourself, Maxim. Plenty of people talk about dreams and never do anything about it.”

“Well, they should. Because it feels really good.” He looked at me. “Did you make an appointment to see that house?”

“Not yet.” I started the car, focusing my attention on the rearview mirror as I backed out.

“Derek,” he admonished. “Why not?”

I shrugged. “I was busy at work this week.” It was an excuse. The truth was that I’d broached the subject with my father, and he’d told me I was crazy, I’d lose my shirt, and I had no time for side projects, anyway. In fact, he wanted me to take on more responsibility in the next six months, not less.

“Call now.”

“I’m driving. And I don’t have the number.”

“Do it when you get home after dropping me at work.”

I gave him a look. “That apartment made you bossy.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. But I know you’d do such a great job on it. And I think it’s like your dream.”

“Maybe. I’ll give it some more thought.” But it was hard to think about anything that might happen after the next nine days. I didn’t want to do it.

When I pulled up to The Blind Pig, he looked at me. “What will you do tonight?”

“Nothing much.” Think about you. Feel sorry for myself. Wallow.

He opened the door but didn’t get out. “Is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know.”

I refused to look at him. “It’s fine. Go to work.”

“Okay.” Another pause.

I gripped the steering wheel hard, staring straight ahead. Get the fuck out, Maxim, before I say something I shouldn’t.

“Well, thanks for the ride.”

“No problem.”

He got out, and I took off the moment the door was shut. In the rearview mirror, I could see him linger there on the sidewalk, watching me. I couldn’t get away quick enough, and I wished I could hit the accelerator hard. Fuck this traffic! Why can’t there be an open road when you need to blow off steam?

I decided to go for a run instead. I went home, changed clothes, grabbed my headphones and took off, my feet pounding the pavement in long, angry strides. I ran fast, too fast, sweat pouring and heart pumping and muscles aching. I ran like something was chasing me, like my life was in peril, like I could escape danger if only I could stay ahead of it.

But it wouldn’t let me be. It wouldn’t give up. It wouldn’t release me.

His arms and legs around me like vines. His head on my shoulder. His breath on my chest. His skin against mine.

After my five mile loop, I ended up in my backyard, hunched over, breathing hard, hands braced on my knees. I wasn’t at all sure I wouldn’t be sick or pass out. After a minute, I collapsed onto the grass and lay on my back, eyes closed.

Fuck. What was I doing? Trying to outrun a feeling? Trying to punish my body for what it had done? For what it wanted to do? Or was I trying to replace emotional anguish with physical duress? Maybe I thought I could distract myself from unwanted feelings by pushing my body so far it gave out. Then the ache would reside in my muscles, and not in my heart.

Because fuck my heart. It had no business here. This was about one thing, and one thing only—pleasure.

And its days were numbered.

* * *

I woke again to footsteps on the stairs. As if my body remembered what followed last time I’d heard the sound, my dick started to get hard, heat rushing my lower body. Would he come to me again? Maybe not, after the way I’d acted this afternoon. Maybe he thought I didn’t want him to. Or maybe he knew I did, and he wouldn’t just to punish me. Fuck that.

When I heard the shower come on, I decided not to wait. I got out of bed and shoved off my underwear, my erection springing free and twitching with impatience. The hallway was dark, the bathroom door closed.

I didn’t knock. Because fuck manners too.

The sight of his naked body, even blurry through the wet glass, ratcheted up the tension inside me. And the hunger—I felt almost predatory as he turned in surprise and saw me there.

I opened the shower door and stepped in beside him. Without waiting for him to say a word, I grabbed him and crushed my mouth to his, pushing him back against the tiles and pressing myself against his hot, wet body. He didn’t fight me, but I was rough with him, fisting my hands tight in his hair, shoving my tongue inside his mouth, thrusting my cock against his hip. I felt the need to subdue something or someone, to dominate. To take control and impose my will. I wasn’t a fucking idiot, I knew it was myself I wanted to overpower, but I was a failure there. And Maxim, with his unsettling ability to show me who I really was, to make me feel as if I couldn’t extricate myself from him, to reflect back at me everything I desired, was the perfect substitute.

I tore my mouth from his and shoved down on his shoulders. “Get on your knees.”

He dropped willingly, and it pleased me. Hot water sprayed my back as the steam rose around us. I braced myself against the wall as he took my cock in his hand and brought the tip to his mouth.

“Yes,” I hissed through clenched teeth. The muscles in my legs tightened as he licked and sucked and stroked. He didn’t tease me, wasn’t coy or playful, didn’t try to wrest control away and make my orgasm his toy. It was as if he knew what I needed and wanted to give it to me. His fingers slid between my legs and rubbed with steady, firm pressure as he took me to the back of his throat again and again. My lower body began to tremble, like the earth quaking and shuddering before a volcanic eruption. I grabbed the back of his neck with one hand and held his head still, plunging into his sleek, hot mouth with hard, deep thrusts. “Fuck!” I yelled, my voice echoing off the tiles as I exploded inside him without even giving a warning.

He didn’t care. He kept stroking and sucking and swallowing until I was empty and shaking and tingling all over. Oh God, he’s perfect. He’s perfect and beautiful and brave and so full of life and why can’t this feeling be mine forever? Why can’t he be mine forever?

I dropped to my knees in front of him. Took his head in my hands. Kissed him passionately, protectively, possessively. Mine. Mine. Mine. His arms came around me and I was melting at his feet. At that moment, there was nothing I wouldn’t have done for him.

“Stand up,” I said, sliding my lips down the warm, wet arc of his neck. “Let me.”

“Let you what?” His voice was low, a little playful.

Let me make your heart beat faster. Let me make you come. Let me make you feel so good you never want to leave me. Because I don’t want you to go, but I can’t ask you to stay. “Let me do what I want.”

He rose to his feet and tipped my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “I’m all yours.”