Chapter Eleven
Blissful silence.
Blissful stillness.
He was boneless and lying in a bag of cotton balls. It was so soft here. It was so nice.
He was dimly aware of Sullivan moving against him, and he thought maybe he should make something of that, but Sullivan whispered something soothing, and Tobias settled back down into the sleepy, perfect haze of quiet.
Warm wetness settled against his belly and he blinked his heavy eyes open, caught sight of Sullivan cleaning him up with a washcloth, his touch considerate, and it was impossible not to smile. Then he was murmuring that Tobias should get up, and he really, really didn’t want to, but Sullivan was asking, and he probably had a good reason for it. He struggled upward, unworried when the boards shifted beneath him because Sullivan was ready, already holding him tight and close against his body. He was ushered into another room and eased onto a couch, and that was nice too, it was so plush and soft, and he sat there for a second breathing and staring at nothing, and it was all so very, perfectly quiet.
He had a glass of water now, and he was drinking it, and then Sullivan was guiding him to lie down, and Tobias put his head on Sullivan’s firm thigh, and there was a blanket and there were fingers in his hair, stroking, and he was safe and insulated and warm, and it was so wonderfully, exactly what he needed.
All he had to do was follow Sullivan’s directions. Sullivan would take care of everything. He’d made sure that Tobias came apart in a way that felt good, and he’d wanted Tobias and taken everything Tobias offered and he’d been grateful, Tobias had seen it in his face how much Sullivan had needed it too, and it’d felt so right to give Sullivan what he needed, and it was so soft and safe and quiet here that he just...floated.
* * *
He hadn’t been sleeping, so he didn’t really wake up per se, but there was definitely a span of time during which he had been distant from reality and a moment when he became aware of it again.
Sullivan was still stroking his head, and the TV was on, the volume low on some construction show and Tobias came back in bits and pieces until he realized he was concerned for the nice people whose bathroom had been wrecked by a shady contractor. He still wasn’t quite all there when the episode ended, so he missed some of the summation.
“Did they find him?” he asked, referring to the contractor who should be in jail. Wow, his voice sounded thick as syrup.
“I don’t think so,” Sullivan said quietly. “But the host guy fixed it for them. They’re all right.”
“That’s good.”
“Back with me?”
“I think so?” Tobias thought about it for a minute. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Want to sit up?”
That was the last thing he wanted, but he was starting to need the bathroom, so he supposed he didn’t have much choice. His head swam when he was upright, but Sullivan steadied him.
He should explain. He’d sort of gone to pieces, but he wasn’t sure he could explain why, and besides, Sullivan didn’t look mad or like he expected an explanation. He seemed thoughtful more than anything else. Tobias asked, “The good bathroom’s upstairs?”
“Through my bedroom, last on the right.”
Tobias went up the creaking stairs at a quicker pace than his legs were interested in, but the need was becoming downright urgent, so he didn’t take the time to notice much about his surroundings until after he’d peed and washed his hands. His belly was dry and clean, and he distantly remembered Sullivan cleaning him up.
He stared at himself in the mirror and wondered why he wasn’t upset about what’d happened.
He’d have thought it would be inevitable. He wasn’t good with change, especially abrupt change, and this qualified, didn’t it? This—this angry sex that’d given way to a feeling entirely new and possibly dangerous, it was a big thing, wasn’t it? He should be obsessing, but instead he felt calm and centered.
The more he thought about it, the more certain he became, too. He didn’t know how to describe the experience, but it hadn’t been alien. Somehow he’d known this existed, even before he had the words to describe it or the knowledge to look for it. He must’ve known, because when Sullivan had taken him by the hair, he’d thought yes, right, this.
In relationships in the past, sex had given him a frustrated, empty feeling. He’d be overcome by the sense that he was too mobile, too jagged, a puzzle piece jammed into a bad-fitting space. Like he was waiting for something he desperately needed but couldn’t define. And without that definition, he couldn’t know.
He knew now.
He knew how it felt to slip into a place like he belonged there. Knew how much peace there could be in the little pocket of time when he’d been tethered to the earth, seemingly, by Sullivan’s will alone. A strange, edged quiet had taken up within him, a quiet that still hadn’t fully dissipated, and it was sublime. This wasn’t a change at all—it was an unlocking.
It wasn’t only the peace he wanted, though. He swallowed hard and it hurt, the ache in his throat enough to make him feel hazy again. He wanted everything that came before the peace too: Sullivan sliding hot and large and demanding into his mouth, pulling his hair, forcing his way deeper near the end. It’d hurt and frightened him and made him choke even as he’d closed his eyes and thought more. He flushed red at the memory, getting a delicious thrill from the shamelessness of
