Ghost had fallen silent like a carnival automaton that’d run out of quarters, and the boys had filed uncertainly past him while he stood there staring. By the time Tobias had hauled himself up and cleaned the blood from his teeth and nose, Ghost had been sweet and smiling. He’d started talking about this dog he’d seen get trampled by a police horse, a story that sounded every bit as bogus as the earlier story about the car wreck, and Tobias had followed him around mutely for days listening to the patter, never really taking a deep breath, scared to leave Ghost’s side, but also scared to stay.
Once you’d seen the facade break down, it was hard to forget what Ghost really was.
But Ghost hadn’t hurt him. Had, in fact, been surprisingly gentle with him, always receptive to Tobias’s words and thoughts when he finally began offering them, and one day Tobias had realized that instead of being a half-wild prostitute and the guy he’d saved, they might actually be friends.
The only reference Ghost ever made to that day in the bathroom had been when he got out of Woodbury months later. On his way out of the cottage, knapsack over one shoulder, he’d called back to Tobias, “Stay off Gibson’s dick, won’t you?”
“I’m honestly not sure why he helped me,” Tobias said now. “Maybe he was curious. Or bored. Or setting up some elaborate plan that I played a role in but which he later abandoned. Who knows? I just...he stopped them and let me stay by him and then I loved him.”
He almost choked on his tongue trying to backpedal on that one, because he meant it, but he didn’t mean it like that. “As friends, I swear. And that makes it sound like it was less of a bond, but it wasn’t. It was huge to me anyway. Maybe he’s walked out on me, maybe not. But I have to know, and it’s... I can’t wait around and hope he’ll notice I need him anymore. Does that make sense?”
“He’s your best friend,” Sullivan said, a weary sort of acceptance in his voice.
“Yeah.” It was the only term for Ghost that Tobias could apply, even if it was too small and too large at the same time. “Did you really think I was a stalker ex-boyfriend?”
“Not sure. I trust my instincts, and they’re all telling me you’re a pretty run-of-the-mill college kid.”
“Thanks,” Tobias said, unsure if that was a compliment or not.
“I’m in a weird spot, though, since my instincts are telling me one thing, and the fact that you’re blackmailing me to play junior private detective tells me something else.”
“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know what else to do. I needed... I need this. It’s wrong of me, and selfish, and I know it doesn’t change anything, but I am sorry.”
Sullivan’s gaze was heavy on his face, almost intimidating, but Tobias sort of liked it. He felt centered. The minute stretched, endless and dense, and then Sullivan was rising, perching on the arm of the overstuffed chair and burying a hand in Tobias’s hair, just as he’d done yesterday, if not as tightly. That hand was directing Tobias closer, tugging him in so that he could bury his face against Sullivan’s side. He smelled like laundry detergent and warm skin, and Tobias wanted to stay there forever.
“I’m sorry,” Tobias said again.
“Okay.”
They sat like that for a considerably long time, until Sullivan’s hand paused in Tobias’s hair and began to pull away. Tobias pressed closer and muttered, “I want you to.”
“Want me to what?”
His face flamed hot. “To...whatever you want.”
After a moment that lasted an eternity—during which Tobias died waiting—Sullivan asked, “You want more of what we did yesterday?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not sure—”
Remembering how Sullivan had been forced to take care of him on the couch afterward, Tobias hurriedly added, “You don’t have to put a lot of effort in. We can keep it easy.” He swallowed. “You can do whatever you want.”
Again, Sullivan’s hand went still. Another interminable hesitation. “All right. There are some things we need to talk about first, though. Do you like the idea of telling me to stop and having me keep going?”
Tobias blinked, taken aback. “Um, no? I mean, if I say no, I’m probably going to mean it?”
“Probably?”
“I’ve never needed to before, so I don’t know.”
“Let’s have you pick a safe word then, hmm? Just in case.”
“What kind of word?”
“Anything you want. We could go with green, yellow, and red. Like stoplights. That’s pretty common. You say yellow and I know to slow down; you say red and everything stops. Or we can pick something else.”
“No, that sounds good.” If nothing else, he’d remember that in the heat of the moment.
“What kinds of play do you think you’d be interested in?”
Tobias pressed his face harder against Sullivan’s side, wishing his cheeks would cool off. “I don’t know.”
Sullivan’s hand worked gently through his hair. “Did you like being on your knees?”
Tobias nodded.
“What did you like about it?”
“I don’t know. I felt—like I was doing something you’d like. That made it good.”
“Okay. Did you like it when I fucked your face?”
Tobias swallowed as a wave of heat went through him, and nodded again.
“Like the idea of servicing me? Being used by me?”
He breathed, “Yes.”
“What about when I called you sweetheart?”
Tobias shivered, and Sullivan laughed, low and pleased. “We’ll consider that a keeper, then.” He toyed with Tobias’s shirt collar. “You’re doing well. Beginners sometimes have trouble talking
