On his knees on the floor of the mosque, Rabi couldn’t stop shaking.
He wanted to believe it had all been a nightmare, but all his scrapes burned and his bruises throbbed, and they might as well have been glowing red beacons of reality alongside the still-damp bloodstains in his clothes.
After Matthew had told him to run, he’d sprinted for his truck and gotten the hell out of there. With no idea where else to go, he’d just driven, and he’d made it here on autopilot, and he’d come stumbling in because he didn’t know where else to go. He’d gone into one of the bathrooms to scrub the blood off his hands and face, and somehow that had turned into the long-memorized wudu ritual. Something comforting and normal and purifying, and even after the blood was gone, he’d continued. Hands. Feet. Face. Mouth. Until he’d felt clean. Truly clean.
And it only made sense to go from wudu to salat, and he’d found himself going through the motions of his daily prayers because . . . because he hadn’t known what else to do. He’d always found comfort and centeredness in praying, and he’d desperately needed those, and so absent anything else to hold onto his sanity, he’d fallen automatically into the motions and murmurs and gestures.
But comfort didn’t come. And centeredness was a curse tonight. He was centered—on guilt, fear, and grief. On that moment when the light had left Eshaan’s eyes. When his entire world had seemed to drop out from under him.
And . . . Matthew. Was Matthew okay? Rationally he didn’t think Matthew’s brothers would lay a hand on him, but up until tonight, he hadn’t thought the tension between the two families would erupt quite so violently. Anything was possible. Matthew had interrupted them when they’d tried to hurt Rabi, and now . . .
Now he could be hurt. He could be dead.
Rabi’s heart stopped.
Matthew.
Could be.
Dead.
Sitting back on his heels, Rabi gave up on trying to pray. Or hold himself up. Or hold himself together. As the fear and grief crashed down on him, he dropped onto one hand and covered his face with the other. The sobs came hard, and he didn’t try stopping them, because there was no point. He saw the fight, and the blood, and the gunshot, and Eshaan dying, and Matthew telling him to run, and his parents finding out one son was dead and the youngest was not only gay but in love with a Swain, and . . . and . . . Fuck. It was all too much to fit into his head.
“Rabi?” His imam’s voice didn’t help him regain control. “Is that you?”
Rabi couldn’t answer. He was lucky he could breathe. Or maybe not—maybe if he cried hard enough, he wouldn’t be able to breathe, and he might pass out. That would offer a little respite, right?
A firm hand touched his shoulder, and he was distantly aware of someone crouching beside him. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
Rabi managed to sit back again, and he slowly pulled himself together enough to speak, but the two words that finally slipped past his lips nearly broke him all over again: “Eshaan’s dead.”
The fingers on his shoulder twitched. In a hushed, alarmed voice, Imam Kamer said, “Tell me what’s happened.”
Rabi swallowed. He wiped his eyes with a badly shaking hand. “I’ve been . . . I’ve been dating Matthew Swain.”
Imam Kamer straightened, but said nothing.
“His brothers found out,” Rabi continued. “They texted me tonight. From his phone. Said they were him and wanted to see me. But when I got there . . .”
Imam Kamer looked him up and down, and seemed to notice the bloodstains for the first time. “How badly did they hurt you?”
Rabi shrugged tightly, igniting fresh pain in his shoulder. “Just scrapes and bruises. It’s not bad. But . . .” He squeezed his eyes shut, and a couple of tears burned their way down his cheeks. “Eshaan came and tried to break things up. One of Matthew’s brothers . . .” His stomach threatened to lurch up his throat. The gunshot still rang in his ears, and he was sure the sound of Eshaan’s body hitting the pavement would echo through his mind for the rest of his life.
“Rabi.” Imam Kamer’s voice was calm and soothing. “What happened to Eshaan?”
“They . . .” Rabi swallowed bile. “He shot him. He . . . Eshaan was trying to break things up, and . . . and one of the brothers . . .” He turned to his imam. “Shot him.”
Imam Kamer stiffened. “What happened next?”
“Matthew’s brother attacked me. We fought a bit, and then Matthew told me to run, so I did. And I came here because I didn’t know where else to go.”
“I imagine I would’ve done the same.” Imam Kamer gathered him in a hug Rabi hadn’t realized he desperately needed, and for the longest time, they just stayed like that. On some level, Rabi had convinced himself he’d be ostracized from everyone and everything after what had happened tonight, and the comfort of just being held was overwhelming. Especially when the person holding him was his imam. And he knew. About Rabi being gay. About him being in love with Matthew. He knew, and he was still holding him.
Without letting go of Imam Kamer, Rabi whispered, “My family is going to be devastated.”
“They will be,” Imam Kamer said softly. “But my more immediate concern is you and your safety.”
Rabi swallowed. “What should I do?”
His imam was quiet for an unnervingly long moment. “I’m not sure. The police will be involved soon, so we—”
“Rabi?”
The soft, plaintive voice seemed to echo through the building.
Rabi jerked out of Imam Kamer’s arms and onto his feet so fast he stumbled. “Matthew?”
A second later, Matthew appeared in one of the archways. The green tiles framing him seemed to emphasize how much his face had paled, and the way he hugged himself, he looked like he was seconds away from crumbling.
They stared at each other in disbelief, as if they each needed a few beats to comprehend that the other was alive and here. Then Rabi jogged over to him, bare feet padding softly on the hard floor, and threw his arms around Matthew.
“You’re alive,” Matthew whispered. “Thank God.” They embraced tightly, both shaking and sniffling as they held on to each other.
Stroking Matthew’s hair with a trembling hand, Rabi asked, “Are you okay?”
“I’m . . .” Matthew seemed to deflate a little, and at the same time, held Rabi tighter. “My brother’s dead.”
Rabi’s brain was so scrambled, he almost murmured “I know,” but then realized Matthew had said my brother, not your brother. He pulled back. “Wait, what?”
Matthew swept his tongue across his lips as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Derek. He’s . . . He collapsed. They tried to revive him, but . . .”
The words hurt Rabi’s chest, and he pulled Matthew back in. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“I know.” Matthew met his gaze again. “It wasn’t your fault. But . . .” He sniffed, and somehow his face shifted from hurt to determined. He squeezed Rabi’s shoulder. “We have to go.”
“Go? Go where? What are—”
“Listen to me.” Matthew tightened his grip. “We have to get out of town. You have to get out of town.”
“What? And go where?”
“Doesn’t matter. Anywhere but here. Because I’m pretty sure my family’s about to form a lynch mob, and I don’t know how metaphorical that is.”
Rabi’s whole body went cold.
“Your friend is right, Rabi.” Imam Kamer’s voice was even and calm, and they both turned to him. “It isn’t safe for you here. Once word gets out that a Swain died at the hands of a Hashmi, people are going to come looking for you.”
“Even though a Hashmi died at the hands of a Swain first?” Rabi ground out, his voice thick with tears. Of course he knew the answer. Grief-stricken or not, he knew the realities of this town. His shoulders sagged. “Where do I go? And I mean, if I run, won’t that make me look even guiltier?”
Imam Kamer seemed to mull it over for a moment. “Maybe it does, but at this point, it will keep you out of harm’s way until everything can be sorted out.” He put up a hand. “I’m not suggesting you blow town and disappear. Just keep your head down until I can be sure it’s safe. Rabi, your father is a senator-elect. He’s a powerful man. The police will take this seriously, and it won’t do you any good if it looks like you’re running or that we’re helping you run. Understand?”
Rabi nodded mutely.
“And I’ll vouch for you.” Matthew laced his fingers between Rabi’s. “I saw everything that happened.”
A little warmth broke through the iciness that had surrounded Rabi since Matthew’s brothers had first arrived, and he managed a slight smile as he squeezed Matthew’s hand.
“Do you have a car with you?” Imam Kamer asked.
“We can take mine,” Rabi said. “There’s some motels outside of town—we should be able to hunker down there at least for the night.”
“Good idea.” Imam Kamer nodded sharply. “I’ll call you as soon as I can. For tonight, just focus on staying safe and keeping your heads down, all right?”
Matthew and Rabi both nodded.
“What about my car?” Matthew asked.
Imam Kamer was again quiet for a long thoughtful moment, then held out his hand. “Leave me your keys. You two take Rabi’s truck and get out of here. I’ll make sure your car is hidden.”
Matthew nodded and put his keys in Imam Kamer’s hand. “Thanks.”
Imam Kamer jerked his head toward the door. “Go.”
They didn’t hesitate.
“Let me drive,” Matthew said.
“Huh?”
“As rattled as you are—”
“And you’re not?”
“I am.” Matthew held out his hand. “But it’s my family’s fault, so let me drive while you catch your breath.”
Rabi hesitated, but between shock and exhaustion, he didn’t trust himself to drive. So he handed Matthew the keys.
With Matthew at the wheel, they sped away from the mosque and out onto the main drag, aiming for the highway. In the darkness between them, Rabi found Matthew’s hand, and they both held on tight. He didn’t even care about how much his knuckles ached or the raw skin stung—he needed to hold on to Matthew.
“I’m sorry about all this.” Matthew gripped Rabi’s hand tighter. “My dad and brothers confronted me, and things just got out of control. They took my phone, and then they . . .” He sniffed. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault.”
“No, it isn’t.” Rabi rubbed his thumb across Matthew’s. “You were actually trying to do something to stop all this stupid violence. That . . . took some balls.”
Matthew huffed out a breath. “Maybe. But I just keep thinking I could’ve done things differently, and then maybe no one would have—”
“Hey. Hey. Don’t think like that. You couldn’t have known your brothers would try to ambush me, and I’m sure you didn’t think Eshaan would draw on your brothers like that.”
“No, I didn’t.” Matthew shuddered. “I just . . . Fuck. This is all such a mess.”
“I know it is. We’ll get through it somehow, though.”
InshAllah . . .
Matthew parked behind the seedy two-story motel building, then checked them in at the front desk. Key in hand, they trudged into their room, dead-bolted the door, and dropped onto the hard bed together. Fully clothed, they held each other close, Rabi’s head resting on Matthew’s shoulder. He kept stroking Matthew’s arm, just needing to touch him and make sure they were both here and okay, as if the heart beating beneath his ear wasn’t enough.
They were silent for a long time. He couldn’t begin to imagine where Matthew’s thoughts were. So much had happened in so little time, and Rabi couldn’t even get his own mind to focus on anything for very long. Did his family know yet? Were the police coming after him? Was there any scenario where he and Matthew made it out of this unscathed?
Matthew ran his fingers through Rabi’s hair. “So what do we do now?”
“I have no idea.” Rabi sighed. “I’m still trying to process everything.”
“Same.” Matthew fell quiet for a moment. “Would it be weird if I said I wanted to have sex?”
Rabi lifted his head. “Come again?”
Matthew’s forehead creased, and he bit his lip. “It’s . . .” He paused, watching his fingers trail down Rabi’s face. “This is so not the time, but all I can think about is how much I need you right now.”
“You’re all I have right now,” Rabi murmured. “I don’t think I’ve ever needed anyone more in my life.”
Matthew cautiously lifted his eyebrows. “So you don’t think it’s weird?”
“I don’t care if it’s weird.” Rabi leaned down and kissed him, and . . . fuck, yeah. It seemed so wrong, but at the same time, absolutely right. For the last couple of hours, Rabi’s world had been nothing but chaos and horror, and now that something else was moving in—warmth, tenderness—he wasn’t about to fight it. He needed everything Matthew offered like he needed air and Allah.
When he met Matthew’s gaze again, the love and fear and need and pain in his eyes echoed everything Rabi was feeling. Right or wrong, they were doing this. Right here. Right now.
He leaned in for another kiss, but Matthew stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Wait. Before we go too far . . .”
Rabi had a split second of panic, of pure certainty that Matthew was about to put a stop to this, before Matthew grinned.
“Do you still have the lube with you?”
Relief and arousal zinged through Rabi. “Yeah, it’s in the truck.”
“Good. Because I want to use it.”
Rabi shivered, his toes curling in his shoes. He was exhausted and seriously sore all over, yet he had never been hungrier or needier for Matthew than he was right now.
“I’ll go get it.” Matthew kissed him lightly. “You just take care of getting out of those pants.”
Rabi laughed, which felt ridiculously good. He dug his keys out of his pocket and handed them to Matthew. “Go.”
Matthew flashed him a quick grin, kissed him once more, and got up. While he went to get the lube, Rabi rose and started stripping out of his clothes. He tried not to look at or think about the bloodstains on his clothes, or the angry welts and bruises on his skin. Tonight, Matthew was offering a break in the fear and chaos. Hell, he was begging for that break. Just for a few minutes while they laid low in the motel, they could hold on to each other and let go of everything else.
And getting out of these blood-stained clothes? Hell yes.
He stripped down to nothing and slid in under the covers. In the minute or so it took for him to undress, he had visions of Matthew getting waylaid outside. Someone from either family finding them. The cops. Another guest noticing the smear of blood on his jeans.
But Matthew returned a moment later, and sure enough, he had the bottle of lube in his hand.
Rabi grinned as Matthew locked the door again. It was only an illusion, blocking out the world with that single dead bolt on a cheap wooden door, but it was enough. For tonight, they were safe in this room.
Matthew tossed him the lube bottle. “It’s cold as hell,” he said. “So, you know, warm it up a bit first.”
Rabi laughed. Damn, it really did feel good to laugh. It felt good to feel good. He kept the bottle between his hands while Matthew undressed, and set it aside as Matthew slid under the covers beside him.
As they came together in a deep kiss and a tight embrace, the warmth of Matthew’s skin was breathtaking. Even more so than the first time they’d done this. Back then, it had just been new and novel. Tonight it was after they’d both been too close to that razor’s edge between life and death.
All the humor and playfulness were gone now. Rabi kissed and held Matthew with a hunger he’d never felt before. More of that undeniable need to not only feel alive, but be absolutely certain Matthew was alive too. And damn it, he needed to feel good too. To indulge in sex and affection for just a little while before the world went to shit again. Even the soreness in his body—all the bruises and scrapes and pulled muscles—couldn’t temper his need for Matthew. His entire world was upended right now, but here in this motel room, wrapped up in Matthew’s arms, he was loved and safe.
When the sun came up, everything would be chaotic again, but tonight, in this motel in the middle of nowhere, he let Matthew’s touch carry him away until nothing mattered except making Matthew’s breath catch like that, or causing those little shivers and whispered curses, or the relief he felt every time his lips found Matthew’s again.
The pain actually added to the pleasure too. Every throb and ache and sting made everything else more intense—the softness of skin brushing skin, the friction of their cocks rubbing together between their bodies, the tenderness of every long, needy kiss. Rabi didn’t see himself becoming a masochist anytime soon, but he wasn’t going to complain about anything that made this perfect moment even better.
“Should . . . Get the lube,” Matthew murmured between kisses. “I want you. Now.”
“Mmm, good idea.” Rabi reached for the bottle. “Get on your back.”
Matthew didn’t argue. Rabi slicked up his cock, and Matthew spread his legs wide. They hadn’t tried this position before, but he loved the idea of being held while they moved together.
Of course, it was a little easier said than done. Guiding himself in at this angle was challenging.
“Wait, what if I . . .”
“Stay just like that, and I’ll . . .”
“I don’t think this is gonna work.”
Their eyes met, and they both laughed at the ridiculousness of trying to figure out how to get Rabi’s cock into Matthew.
Rabi was about to suggest they try a different position, but then Matthew slid a pillow under his lower back, and that adjusted the angle enough to make things less awkward.
And finally . . .
“Oh, fuck.” He shivered as the head of his cock slid past the tight ring. Goose bumps broke out all over his back and shoulders. It took a few strokes to get the angle just right, but once he did . . . Oh, yes. They found a rhythm together, Matthew rocking his hips in time with Rabi’s. Rabi was delirious with need and pleasure, intoxicated as he moved inside Matthew, losing himself in the slick tightness and the warmth of Matthew’s thighs on his hips and arms around him. Even with all the twinges and pain protesting every move he made, it was heaven. It was perfect.
He slid his arms under Matthew’s back, and his cheek brushed Matthew’s as they kept on moving together.
“Oh God . . .” Matthew buried his face against Rabi’s neck. Cool breath stuttered across Rabi’s skin, and he almost wanted to cry at the sheer beauty of Matthew coming apart like this. In fact, he was crying. Hot tears slid down his face, and when he moaned, it came out as something like a sob, and he didn’t care. Letting all those feelings come pouring out was a release he needed more than an orgasm, and there had never been a moment in his life more cathartic and liberating than this one.
“You feel so good,” he whispered. “I could . . . I could do this forever.”
Matthew whimpered, nails biting into Rabi’s back. “Please do.”
Rabi moaned, squeezing his eyes shut and riding Matthew for all he was worth. Matthew rocked his hips, and the strangled groan he released gave Rabi goose bumps.
“I’m gonna come,” Matthew murmured into Rabi’s shoulder. “Oh God. Oh God, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come . . .”
Gritting his teeth, Rabi thrust a little harder, and he was rewarded with the sexiest cry as Matthew clenched around him. His own orgasm was closing in fast, and he didn’t fight it at all. He thrust in as deep as Matthew could take him, and the cry that left his lips this time was all pleasure and release. He still hurt all over, and he was still scared and devastated and at a loss for what to do next, but he surrendered to his orgasm and to being inside Matthew and to indulging in just a few seconds of being on top of the world.
As his climax subsided, he relaxed and pressed a soft kiss to the side of Matthew’s neck. He was still buried inside Matthew, and hoped he’d stay hard a little longer because he wasn’t ready to pull out yet.
When he lifted himself up on shaky arms, their eyes met. Matthew touched his face, brushing away a tear with his thumb, and whispered, “I love you.”
Rabi came back down to kiss him softly. “I love you too.”
And for a moment—for just a fleeting, blissful moment—nothing else mattered.