Chapter 10
Taking Off
Rune was on his way out of the apartment. He had a ride set up, and explained as much to Oliver, who stood next to Jackson with a displeased expression. Even Jackson seemed perturbed and he barely knew Rune.
Oliver spoke and signed simultaneously, You need to rest.
Rune told him he’d rest later, adding that he’d had a good nap. It was enough.
Jackson said something, which Oliver translated as: He agrees you should rest. You look tired.
I need some air, Rune countered.
Where are you going?
The clubhouse, Rune explained, though he would have rather kept that to himself. He liked his privacy. He also wasn’t used to being under the protection of a compulsive, determined Dom like Oliver. It got to be a little suffocating.
Plus, Rune wasn’t collared. He hadn’t given Oliver the reins to his entire life. Yet.
He saw Oliver explaining what ‘the clubhouse’ was to Jackson and waited.
It’s not safe.
Rune grinned, tempted to laugh. It’s the safest place I know.
No, this is, Oliver argued, his severely furrowed brow and thinned lips indication enough of his current mood, despite all the sex which Rune would have thought might have loosened him up a little.
Rune thought Oliver would have wanted some more time alone with Jackson anyway, without Rune in their hair.
Why do you care? Something happens to me, just get a new sub.
He could tell Oliver hadn’t caught all of that, though he might have gotten the gist. The biggest indication was the storm clouds gathering over his head.
He stalked over to Rune, who had edged closer to the door.
Bracing himself, Rune stayed ready for anything.
But Oliver just pulled him into a kiss with an arm slung around Rune’s lower back, then embraced him.
A small voice at the back of Rune’s mind whispered that Oliver knew what Rune was trying to pull. That the instinct to take off post-coitus was an ingrained thing with him after so long at being a connoisseur at casual sex and totally foreign to real commitment.
Because Rune didn’t like how much Oliver now knew, and didn’t know how to handle Oliver’s tenderness or concern. There seemed to be no motive behind it of a sexual bent, or as a way to assume more power for power’s sake, or as leverage to get high, get off, or be selfish.
It was like Rune had fallen into someone else’s life. Some of it was too good to be true, and he’d already had enough disappointment to last a lifetime.
He pushed against Oliver, but Oliver just kissed Rune’s temple and caressed his back, his arms tensed to prevent Rune’s escape.
The silence rushed in anew, reminding him he was adrift, floating out there. But then the sensory data of Oliver’s scent, warmth, strength, touch, kisses and unspoken patience flooded him. It filled all the empty places and overwhelmed. It was more specific, more intense than he remembered a hug could be.
When Rune’s struggling tapered off, Oliver eased up, let go.
I won’t let anything hurt you, Oliver signed.
Jackson had come over too. He reached out and gripped Rune’s shoulder, giving him a steady gaze that didn’t waver.
You don’t owe me that, Rune argued.
Oliver translated for Jackson, then replied. Someone does. You’re stuck with us. He punctuated this with a smart-assed shrug that said, ‘tough shit’ loud and clear.
Rune looked at them both, trying to wrap his head around it all or make sense of anything he felt. It was so noisy in his head, nothing came out clear.
He told them, Okay. I’m going. I’ll be back soon. He pulled out his phone, gave it a wave to show he was reachable.
For a minute, Rune was convinced Oliver wasn’t going to let him go, but he stayed put as Rune unlocked and opened the door. He slipped out and didn’t look back.
After a quick trip across town, Oliver took an elevator to the top floor, stepped off and brushed shoulders with a teenager with a magnificent pair of full lips who was getting on the elevator to leave. Without knowing if the kid was legal or not, Oliver resisted the tempting backward glance at their ass — but only barely. The teenager had a medium-brown complexion, black hair and carried a backpack slung over one shoulder. They didn’t make eye contact, kept their head bowed, and seemed in quite a hurry to get on the elevator and go.
That was his first clue.
Strolling up to Adam’s door, Oliver leaned against the frame, secure in the guess he was about to make.
The door opened to reveal his best friend in the world, wearing only a pair of paint-stained boxer briefs and a harried look.
“You fucked a child, didn’t you?” Oliver said with amazement.
“What? No! Why would you ever say that? Get in here and stop looking at me like that,” Adam commanded.
Oliver just laughed.
“He was carrying a backpack, dear. My strong moral code forbade me from seeing if his jeans were packed with a thick cock or just a well-reamed butt.”
“Your strong moral code and my devotion to studying law are both right up there with the pope’s fondness for gambling and sloppy hookers.”
Adam shut the door with a loud thud, then stalked past Oliver, making a beeline to his studio.
“So, we had a good trip then? Purged plenty of spunk? Painted lots of beautiful boys? Dislodged that thorny stick from your ass?”
Shooting a steely look back at Oliver, Adam added a few daubs of paint to his palette and set a barely-touched canvas on the large easel standing few paces inside the room.
“Why, you want to check and see if it’s still there? Jackson not enough for you these days?”
Oliver smiled, dropping his gaze, folding his arms. There were smears on the glass windows, just in one area. His imagination provided some vibrant imagery featuring the boy by the elevator and a grumpy, hard-up Adam.
“Uh-oh.” Adam stopped what he was doing and stared at Oliver.
“I really hope you carded that kid, or else you could be headed upriver for a long, long time.”
“What happened with Jackson?”
“Could you answer mine first, you royal pain in the sphincter?”
Adam didn’t say anything for a long moment, then pulled his phone out of his back pocket and started to tap at it. Oliver managed to cross the distance between them in a split second and snatch it from him.
“Don’t do that.”
“What the hell did you do to Jackson?!” Adam railed, blue eyes blazing, fire-engine-red hair flying as he whipped his head around.
“Nothing, peaches. He’s fine,” Oliver soothed as patronizingly as he possibly could.
“Then what the fuck?” Adam yelled, even more angrily than before.
“Seriously, do you need a valium? A handy? Or maybe you were serious about checking for that stick. I mean, it has been a few years since I’ve taken that particular ride from my favorite ginger, but—”
“Explain. Now,” Adam breathed through clenched teeth.
Oliver could only laugh again. “Wow.” He strolled around the space, letting his lack of tension contrast gloriously to Adam’s temper. “I never knew you cared that much. He’ll be flattered when I tell him.”
“Something’s wrong with you,” Adam realized, soft awe creeping into his tone.
“This shit doesn’t work on me, you know. I’m immune. You can’t trick anything out of me, or psychoanalyze, or bully, or threaten. Learn some patience, my love. Please. Tell me about your latest masterpiece,” he invited, gesturing to the smeared glass, though careful to avoid touching anything resembling a bodily fluid.
Adam rolled his eyes and set his hands on his hips. He let his head fall back on his shoulders and addressed the ceiling.
“He’s twenty. Get over it. A one-off.”
“He was carrying a backpack,” Oliver chuckled. “With pictures of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles all over it.”
“No, there wasn’t,” Adam countered, though he seemed slightly unsure, only amusing Oliver further.
“Did he spread for you, or was he too shy?”
Adam didn’t answer right away; he’d gone back to studying the mask Oliver had thrown up to conceal his secrets.
“Stop that. We’re having a linear conversation.”
Adam snorted and reached for a glass of water, sipping it while giving Oliver the side-eye.
“Yeah, right.”
“Should I guess? I mean, I didn’t get a proper look… maybe you were giving him a private lesson… and he kept staring at your cock, so you pulled it out, let him crawl over and lick at it for a while…”
After considering him a moment longer, Adam said, “Close. He assisted me in class last term. Came by to return some supplies I lent the department for staging models and basically threw himself at me. Had his pants down and cheeks parted before I knew what was happening. Made these soft begging noises the whole time but wouldn’t look at me. He did all the work, too, like he needed cock to live.”
“Maybe he did. A rare condition,” Oliver offered with a tragic air.
Walking slowly over, Adam didn’t stop until he was in Oliver’s personal space, nose to nose with him, looking him dead in the eye. Not falling for it for a minute, Oliver angled his head to the side, teased in as if for a kiss; Adam feigned back, then held, watching Oliver’s lips, then parting his own as if readying for contact.
Oliver gave the center of Adam’s top lip a short lick with the point of his tongue.
“You missed me,” Oliver whispered.
“Never,” Adam lied.
Oliver let the moment breathe, didn’t pull away, wondering if Adam would make a counter-move or not. Then Oliver reached down and palmed Adam’s cock through the briefs.
“Mmm, almost,” he purred, feeling triumphant as he weighed the thickness pressing against his hand. “Love that I still make you hard, sweet cheeks. Feeling’s mutual.”
Adam shook him off, cleared his throat and—futilely—adjusted the briefs.
“Tell me what’s wrong with you.”
“…he asked politely,” Oliver teased.
“Are you sick? Dying? Is it cancer? That’s why you won’t tell me, isn’t it? You know I’d lose my fucking mind and want to jump off the building. I—”
“Shhh,” Oliver hushed, putting his finger over his own lips, then Adam’s. “I’m fine. You’re really wound tight today, huh?”
“Okay,” Adam allowed, the rage dissipated but exposed strange things in its wake. “You may not be dying but you are killing me.”
“Okay,” Oliver sighed.
“Good. Okay.” Adam nodded, perking up a little, standing straighter. “Well?”
“There was an emergency while you were gone.”
“Fuck,” he breathed, deflating. “I knew it. I—”
“Shhh,” Oliver repeated, this time sealing Adam’s mouth completely with his whole hand. The best part was how Adam let him do it, which raised Oliver’s spirits tremendously.
“I do love you, you know,” Oliver told him, letting go.
“Yeah, right. Continue.”
“Boss,” Oliver saluted. “I got a call from David. Davenport.”
Adam was momentarily taken aback, blinking at him. “Okay,” he said slowly. “About…?”
“An emergency.”
Adam covered his face with his hands and groaned into them. “I really might need to hurt you.”
“I may have…”
“…yes?”
“…signed a contract.”
Oliver glanced away, then back. Adam gave him a mostly blank stare.
“I don’t get it.”
“Yeah, I didn’t either.”
“It took you forever to sign the contract with Jackson. Forever. Teeth were pulled. Arms were twisted. You were a total pain in the ass about it. And… what? David calls you. You run over and sign? For some stranger? Why the hell would you do that? What could possibly—”
“Enough. Enough, okay,” Oliver cut in. “Yes, it’s very funny. My life is hilarious. But I make my own choices and so do you. I don’t need your permission for everything.”
“But you… you didn’t even tell me or call me or—”
“It happened too quickly, and it was a lot.”
“A lot of what?”
Hitting a limit he didn’t know he had, Oliver turned and walked away, toward the kitchen.
“Hey! I’m still talking to you! We’re not done here!”
“You’re a real dick sometimes, you know it?” Oliver muttered under his breath.
His arm was grabbed. He was yanked around and his arm came up to block, but he wasn’t fast enough. Adam caught him under the jaw, threw him back into the wall in the hallway. Blue eyes searched him, and he didn’t know how to keep Adam out completely. He’d never been able to.
“Holy fuck,” Adam gaped. “You’re serious. You fell for this guy. You… you don’t even trust me with him, do you? Even to tell me about him. We don’t… keep secrets from each other, Olly. We never have. Not like this. Not when it’s important. Did I… did I do something to make you lose trust in me, or…”
“Stop. Stop it,” Oliver said tiredly. He yanked Adam’s hand away from his throat.
“Olly…”
“It’s complicated. It’s not about you. I’m not keeping him from you. I wouldn’t be here right now if I was. Jackson left a few hours ago. And I was alone and I knew you were back, so,” he sighed.
“What’s the matter?” Adam asked, spying something Oliver hadn’t wanted him to notice. “Something’s wrong.”
“It’s probably nothing. I’m probably overreacting. I—”
“You have never overreacted in your life. You’re the most level-headed, even-tempered person I’ve ever met.”
“I’m just… worried. I… I can see it in his face that he’s going to do something stupid… and I don’t know how to stop him. I don’t even know if I can.”