CHAPTER 51

Aaron quietly closed the door behind him and stood motionless in the hallway for a few seconds.

It was still raining outside. Water ran down the windowpane in uneven trails, and somewhere deeper in the apartment, Olive let out a soft meow.

He exhaled slowly and ran a cold hand over his face. A smile appeared on his lips of its own accord.

It was hard to believe that just half an hour ago, he'd been standing in a dark alley, holding Rick close.

Aaron closed his eyes, and Rick's face immediately appeared before him. Damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead, dark eyes shining, lips swollen from kissing. The way he'd looked at Aaron when Aaron admitted he wanted him. And the way he'd replied that he wanted him, too.

He leaned the back of his head against the door.

Even an entire evening together hadn't been nearly enough. He could still remember Rick's touch, the warmth of his body in his arms. And he remembered especially well the way Rick had rolled his hips to tease him, then looked at him with such an innocent expression, as if he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

Aaron glanced down. His pants were still rather uncomfortably tight.

“Little shit,” he muttered quietly.

He pushed away from the door and headed for the shower.

His wet clothes clung unpleasantly to his body. Aaron pulled off his shirt and tossed it into the laundry basket, followed by his jeans.

The warm water felt good against his chilled skin. He tilted his face into the spray and stood there for a while longer, waiting for his heartbeat to settle.

After showering and feeding Olive, he made his way unhurriedly to the bedroom. He changed into dry lounge pants and pulled on a T-shirt.

He reached for his favorite hoodie, then remembered he'd given it to Billy. His house sweater wasn't there, either. Rick had it.

Aaron let out a quiet sigh.

At this rate, he'd never have enough clothes for both of them.

He pulled on another warm black hoodie and bent down to get his socks. For some reason, he remembered Rick hurriedly fastening his shirt, fumbling with the buttons.

His fingers had been trembling.

Rick had tried to get them under control, frowning and getting frustrated with his own awkwardness, while Aaron watched him, barely resisting the urge to pull him close again and kiss him.

He could have. Rick wouldn't have minded. He would have been the first to wrap his arms around Aaron's neck.

For some reason, the thought made Aaron smile again.

He straightened, walked over to the bedside table, and took out a pack of cigarettes.

It was crumpled, its edges worn, left behind by Rick the night they first kissed. When Aaron had returned home after questioning Cooper, he'd found it right on the coffee table. For some reason, he'd never thrown it away.

When was the last time he'd smoked? A year ago? Two?

Maybe that night, three years ago, when he'd agreed to no-strings-attached sex with Zach?

Aaron grimaced. He didn't feel like thinking about the past right now. Over those ten years, there had been other people in his life. Different names, nights spent together, attempts to distract himself from feelings he'd never managed to let go of.

Sex could be enjoyable. Sometimes very much so. But every time it ended, he returned to his old self — to the same silence, the same thoughts he'd never been able to shake.

He could hold someone else, kiss them, feel their warmth. But the moment he was alone, he would think of Rick again.

In all those years, no one had made him forget what it felt like to hold Rick's face in his hands, to feel his breath against his lips, to look into those warm brown eyes and know that someone truly saw him.

Today, Rick had looked at him that way again. And at last, Aaron could look back at him the same way.

There was only one person in the world for him.

His gaze drifted back to the window. The sky was darkening beyond the glass, the rain still pattering against the sill, and the memories of the alley kept circling through his mind.

He opened the pack. There were only a couple of cigarettes inside, with a lighter tucked beside them.

His feet carried him to the balcony almost on their own.

Cold air brushed his face as soon as he cracked the door open.

The railing was damp. Below, the wet asphalt glistened, reflecting the occasional streetlight. A car passed somewhere, its tires hissing over the water before the sound gradually faded into the distance.

Aaron rested his forearms on the railing and simply watched the street for a few seconds.

Then he took out a cigarette.

Yes. Things really had changed a lot since the last time he'd held a cigarette between his fingers.

He brought it to his lips, flicked the lighter, and shielded the flame from the wind with his hand. The flame wavered and gently caught the tip of the cigarette.

One drag, followed by the entirely predictable coughing fit.

He covered his mouth with his fist. His gaze fell to the cigarette.

“Jesus, Rick. Why are these so strong?”

Naturally, there was no answer.

Aaron chuckled, brought the cigarette back to his lips, and took another drag, more cautiously this time. Bitterness settled on his tongue, and the smoke scratched unpleasantly at his throat. He grimaced and exhaled to the side.

Smoke curled above his hand and dissolved into the damp air.

Ten years ago, he couldn't have imagined that one day he'd be standing on his own balcony like this, remembering a kiss with Rick without that familiar heaviness in his chest. Back then, every memory was something he was afraid to touch.

Now Rick was here.

Aaron closed his eyes and laughed softly.

He felt completely happy.

And a little foolish.

Because all this time, he'd carried so much unsaid, so many fears and doubts inside him, and now he couldn't stop smiling over one person who had probably already made it home and was trying to pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Although Rick was probably smiling, too.

Aaron was almost certain of it.

He pictured him lying in bed, his hair still messy after a shower, wrapped in a blanket with his phone in his hands. Reading a message from him, or watching some funny videos.

Or perhaps Rick was already asleep.

The thought made him a little sorry they weren't together right now.

Aaron remembered the night before last in the guest room. He wanted to be beside Rick again, to lie on his side and pull him close. To feel Rick settling in comfortably and throwing a leg over him, just as he had then, before gradually growing quiet with his face tucked against Aaron's neck.

He could still feel the softness of Rick's hair beneath his fingertips.

No rush. No need to go anywhere.

Just Rick beside him.

Aaron took one last drag. His throat felt unpleasantly raw, and a bitter taste lingered on his tongue.

He stubbed out the cigarette in the old glass ashtray on the windowsill, then took his phone from his pocket.

He opened his chat with Rick. His eyes caught on their latest messages:

Rick:
The camera is amazing! 😍

Rick:
Ahhhhh! There are so many different modes! 😲

Rick:
Thank you!

Aaron:
Glad you like it 😌

Rick:
Listen, can I take some pictures of you? In some kind of interesting outfit.

Rick:
What about an open white shirt, wind in your hair, and the sky in the background? 🤔

Rick:
Yeah, it's cold now, but I'll be quick and bring a thermos. You won't get cold.

Rick:
Oh! No, wait, I've got it! How about a leather jacket with your Harley? Something a little edgy 😈 and biker-style.

Rick:
What do you think?

Aaron:
No.

Rick:
😭😭😭😭😭

Rick:
You're such an asshole!

Rick:
You don't even know what you're turning down!

Rick:
😡

Aaron couldn't help chuckling as he read the messages, then scrolled farther up the conversation.

Aaron:

All right. I'll think about it.

Rick:
😈

Aaron:
I'll pick you up at eight.

Rick:
Okay. I'll be waiting.

Rick:
❤️

Aaron:
❤️

A soft rustling came from behind him.

Aaron turned around.

Olive squeezed through the partly open door and now stood at the balcony threshold.

“Have you eaten already?”

The cat meowed.

“Want to come out on the balcony with me?”

Olive looked at him, then lowered her head, clearly unwilling to set a paw on the cold tiles. She turned around and walked away with a swish of her tail, as if in great dignity.

Aaron raised an eyebrow, then chuckled quietly.

For the first time in a long while, he didn't feel like rushing through the evening, distracting himself with work, or looking for something to do that would keep him from thinking about his feelings. He could simply stand here and listen to the rain. And somewhere a few blocks away, Rick was there.

His Rick.

Aaron went back inside. He turned off the balcony light and closed the door behind him.

For a few seconds, he stared at his open chat with Rick before typing:

Are you asleep?

***

The apartment door slammed shut behind him, and Rick leaned against it. He was still breathing heavily, his heart pounding like crazy. His soaked clothes clung to his body, the cold had seeped into his bones, and his fingers were trembling.

“Shit…”

Aaron's face appeared before his eyes again. The way he'd pressed Rick against the wall and kissed him. Hungrily, recklessly, as though he had no intention of holding himself back any longer.

Rick closed his eyes and smiled involuntarily.

Jesus. It had actually happened.

He pushed away from the door and began stripping off his wet clothes as he walked. His sweater was left in the hallway, followed by the rest of his clothes, which landed on the floor.

In the bathroom, Rick turned on the shower and stepped under the water without waiting for it to warm up.

The icy streams hit his shoulders and chest. He sucked in a sharp breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and braced his palms against the tiles. When the water finally turned warm, Rick tilted the back of his head into the spray, letting it run through his hair and down his back.

Gradually, he warmed up, but every time he closed his eyes, Aaron's face appeared before him again. Rick remembered his hands on his waist, his firm fingers on his thighs, the feeling of Aaron's body pressed against his own. And each time, the memories brought the arousal rushing back.

“Damn it,” Rick muttered, shaking his head.

He ran his palms over his face, wiping away the water, and took a deep breath. He needed to distract himself, turn his thoughts to something else, but even under the warm shower, he kept replaying what had happened.

At last, the water began to cool. Rick turned off the shower, reached for a towel, and dried himself. He patted his hair dry, raised his head, and accidentally caught his own reflection in the mirror.

He froze.

Damp, wavy strands fell across his forehead and temples. Droplets ran down his face, gathering on his chin before falling away. His pupils looked unusually large, almost swallowing the brown of his eyes.

Rick stepped closer to the mirror.

On the side of his neck, a little below the jaw, was a small but unmistakable hickey. The skin beside it was red from a bite. He turned his head, examining the marks from another angle, then shifted his gaze to his lips.

There was a clear imprint of teeth on his lower lip. Rick cautiously ran the tip of his tongue over it, feeling a slight sting.

He looked himself in the eyes again and smiled.

He couldn't help it. It was just too difficult to reconcile his familiar reflection with what had happened only a few minutes ago. Just that evening, he could have imagined...

Dozens of possibilities for how he and Aaron might end up alone together had crossed his mind, but reality had surpassed even his wildest imaginings.

Aaron had left marks on him. Real, visible traces of their kisses.

Rick braced his palms against the edge of the sink. Water ran from his hair over his shoulders, but he barely noticed the cold. His heart was still beating faster than usual.

He didn't regret it. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind.

Aaron wanted him. Rick had felt it in every answering touch, in the way Aaron had kissed him and held him close. And Rick wanted him just as much.

He straightened, took one more look at the hickey, and wrapped a towel around his hips. The smile was still on his lips.

On his way to the bedroom, Rick picked up the phone he'd left by the sink and checked his notifications.

Nothing new.

He reached the bed almost on autopilot, set his phone on the bedside table, and flopped down on top of the soft blanket. For a few seconds, he lay motionless, his face buried in his hands. His hair was still damp, and his body was gradually warming up.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

He still couldn't quite believe it had really happened.

His breathing had evened out, and his hands had stopped trembling, but the familiar tension low in his stomach hadn't gone away. Rick shifted his legs slightly to get comfortable, then froze as he realized just how aroused he still was.

“Well, of course,” he muttered.

Rick ran a hand over his lips, touched his neck, then let his fingers slide over his prominent collarbones and tense stomach muscles. It was as though he were rediscovering his own sensations, still remembering Aaron's touch.

His fingers drifted lower.

Rick closed his eyes. His palm settled on his thigh, gently stroking the soft skin where Aaron had touched him only moments ago. He remembered every movement of Aaron's fingers beneath the table. The way he'd held him so firmly. Without thinking, Rick repeated the familiar circular motion.

A sharp breath escaped his chest.

The thought that they'd almost been found out was almost as arousing as what he was about to do now. After all, Rick had let Aaron draw him into that game himself. He'd played along, keeping them balanced right on the edge. And he'd arched into Aaron's touch himself, making no effort to hide just how much it affected him.

His hand moved higher along his thigh, to the spot where he remembered Aaron's touch most vividly. His fingers, those gentle caresses, the pleasure that had spread through his body…

His fingers.

Oh. He really shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

But his thoughts had already returned to the kitchen. To the way Rick had taken Aaron's index finger between his lips, slowly run his tongue over the pad, then smacked his lips while looking straight into Aaron's eyes.

Rick lowered his eyelids. He remembered Aaron's reaction perfectly. And it seemed that this particular memory was what turned him on the most.

His hand slid higher, and at last he carefully wrapped it around himself, paying attention to the sensations. A strained breath escaped him.

He could still taste the faint sweetness of their kiss on his lips, and his body remembered Aaron's touch. Rick slowly ran his tongue over his lower lip and smiled, recalling the look Aaron had given him in the kitchen.

He'd seen that look before. Years ago, on the basketball court, when they'd stood too close to each other and their damp athletic clothes clung to their heated skin. Back then, Rick hadn't known that one day he'd keep returning to that moment, remembering it over and over when he was alone, each time imagining what might have happened if they'd allowed themselves a little more.

Now he didn't have to imagine.

Rick exhaled slowly, tightening his grip a little. A pleasant shiver immediately spread across his body.

Beneath his palm, he could feel himself pulsing with arousal. He'd spent so long trying to distract himself, to turn his thoughts to something else, even though all that time he'd wanted only one thing.

Him.

He wanted it to be Aaron.

He always had.

Before he began moving, he brought his hand to his face and licked his palm, moistening it thoroughly. Then he wrapped his hand around the head, spreading the moisture, and closed his fingers just below it.

The first movement was slow and cautious. His grip loosened near the crown, and when his fingers brushed the frenulum, the sensitivity was so intense that Rick involuntarily tensed his thighs. He exhaled sharply and paused for a moment, letting the sensation subside. Then he continued, gripping a little more firmly at the base and loosening his hold as his hand moved upward.

Aaron appeared before his eyes. The way he'd turned Rick to face the wall and pressed himself against him, leaving no space between them.

Rick remembered his insistent kisses, the way they had made his knees weak, the warm fingers at his waist and the hand against his groin. A shiver ran through him at the memory. A sensitive, almost painful pulse traveled through his cock, and a little more clear fluid gathered at the tip.

Rick began to move faster.

His palm slid easily, making a soft, wet sound. His hips lifted of their own accord, and the blanket bunched beneath his shoulder blades.

He remembered again how he'd pressed himself against Aaron, how he'd felt his arousal through the fabric of his jeans and pushed back, wanting to be even closer.

The words Aaron had whispered directly against his lips echoed in his mind:

“I want you.”

His heart beat faster. A quiet moan slipped out with his next exhale.

Rick breathed out shakily and ran his free hand over his chest and stomach. He tilted his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes, letting the memory continue. Only now he wasn't imagining what had happened against the wall, but what might have happened if they'd been left alone.

Billy's kitchen appeared before him again. Aaron watching him as Rick deliberately ran his tongue over his finger. They'd had to stop then, but now there was no one to interrupt them.

Rick imagined doing it again, only slower, without looking away. Watching Aaron's expression, the way his jaw tightened and his eyes darkened.

“Something wrong?” Rick would ask, knowing perfectly well what was happening to him.

“Everything's fine,” Aaron would reply.

Rick knew his voice, remembered its inflections, and could imagine how it would sound now—quieter, lower, meant only for him.

Rick would smile. He liked bringing out that reaction in Aaron, seeing desire emerge beneath his usual restraint. He liked knowing he was the one who could make him feel that way.

Aaron would move closer, making Rick back toward the kitchen table. The edge of the countertop would press against his lower back. Aaron would place his hands on Rick's waist and draw him closer. Rick would feel the warmth of his body and look up to meet his eyes.

“You're looking at me like that…” Rick would breathe.

“You're mine,” Aaron would whisper, kissing his neck. “So I'm admiring the view. Is that not allowed?”

“It's allowed…”

Rick would tilt his head back, offering him his neck, and pull him closer himself. Aaron would repeat the kiss, pressing Rick more firmly against the table with his body. A sharp breath would escape Rick.

Aaron would brush his nose up along Rick's neck, touch his lips to his jawline, then his cheek. Rick would turn his face toward him, and Aaron would finally cover his lips with his own.

The kiss would grow more insistent. Rick would reach up to meet him, wrapping his arms around Aaron's neck. He would kiss him, forgetting what he'd meant to say, until there was barely time to catch their breath between their brief kisses.

Rick would run his palms over Aaron's shoulders and chest, then move one hand lower.

The sound of a zipper opening would send goosebumps across his skin.

Rick imagined wrapping his hand around Aaron's cock and beginning to move, slowly at first, watching his face. Then a little faster. Aaron would do the same for him.

Warmth. The firm grip of a broad hand. A thumb that lingered for just a moment at the frenulum each time.

“Ahh…” Rick let out.

Their movements would grow wider. Wet, squelching sounds would fill the bedroom.

“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” Aaron would whisper in his ear.

“Y-yeah,” Rick breathed aloud.

A shiver ran through his thighs, and the blanket bunched beneath his knees. Rick imagined his legs giving way and his forehead coming to rest against Aaron's shoulder.

“Hold on to me.”

He would clutch Aaron's side with his free hand, continuing to caress him. For a moment, he'd slow down, deliberately changing the angle to stimulate the sensitive head a little more intensely. He wanted desperately to see Aaron's face at that moment.

Aaron would close his eyes and draw in a short breath.

That sound would affect Rick more than his own pleasure.

“Do you like it?” Rick would ask.

“Yes. Don't change a thing.”

Aaron would tilt his head and kiss him behind the ear, in the very spot he'd kissed him in the alley. His hand would move faster, and Rick would involuntarily push his hips toward him.

Then Aaron would take the lead, lean close, and pull him against himself. Rick would feel the warmth of his body, followed by the broad palm wrapping around them both.

Aaron would move his hand, and Rick would feel their cocks rubbing against each other, their heads brushing with every movement.

He would look at Aaron, trying to read his reaction, and the sight alone would take his breath away.

Rick would want to stay like that, pressed against him, to be the one giving him pleasure. He would tighten his arms around Aaron's waist, unwilling to leave even the slightest space between them.

Aaron would lean closer still, and Rick would feel his breath against his lips. He would reach for him himself, meeting his kiss.

The kiss would be hungry and wet. Rick would part his lips to meet Aaron's tongue and tighten his fingers around his side. Aaron would respond immediately, and Rick would think of nothing but his lips and his hot breath.

He was already struggling to keep the details straight in his mind. A sheen of sweat had appeared on his skin, and strands of hair clung to his forehead.

Waves of heat rolled through his body, interspersed with shivers. Rick felt the back of his head growing numb and the skin of his scrotum tightening.

“Aaron…” he called, gasping for air. “I'm…”

“Me too…”

His toes curled. Rick squeezed his eyes shut and clutched the blanket with his free hand until his knuckles turned white. The tension that had been building low in his stomach all evening finally broke, making his whole body shudder.

The first contraction was so strong that his back arched, and a muffled moan escaped his lips.

Hot semen spurted across his stomach. His cock throbbed hard in his hand, continuing to pulse rhythmically.

Sparks appeared before his eyes.

Each new pulse sent a sharp shiver through his body. Rick made a few more long strokes, gradually slowing, before finally letting go.

He slowly opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath.

Warm waves spread through his body. His heart was pounding somewhere in his throat, and the vein in his neck throbbed rapidly. His cock still twitched faintly against his stomach.

Rick licked his dry lips and exhaled softly.

“Fuck.”

He lay motionless for a few more seconds, staring at the ceiling. His breathing gradually steadied, and his heart stopped pounding so desperately. His stomach was still sticky. He grimaced, reached for the towel lying beside him, and wiped his skin. He crumpled the fabric in his hand and tossed it onto the floor.

A faint half-smile appeared on his lips.

He pictured Aaron's face at that moment: his gray-blue eyes, the barely-there smile, the way he would look at Rick after they'd been together, catching his breath himself.

He would probably run his thumb over Rick's cheek, brush the damp strands away from his forehead, and kiss him again — this time without rushing, simply because he could.

Rick rolled onto his side and unconsciously reached toward the other half of the bed.

His fingers touched the sheet.

Empty.

His smile slowly faded.

He let his hand rest on the pillow beside him. It was cold.

Aaron wasn't here. There was no warmth from his body, no weight of his arm around Rick's waist, no quiet voice right beside his ear. Rick could imagine him beside him as much as he wanted, but the moment he opened his eyes, all that remained was his own bedroom.

A lump rose in his throat.

The thought of lying here alone again, imagining what might have been between them, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

But he was tired now.

Tired of imagining touches, tired of falling asleep in a bed with enough room for two.

He wanted Aaron to actually be here right now.

To be able to press himself against him, bury his nose in his neck, breathe in that familiar scent of green tea, citrus, and something fresh. To feel Aaron gently wrap his arms around him in return. So that in the morning he wouldn't have to remember Aaron's face—it would be right there, close to his own. So they could simply lie together, lace their fingers, talk about some silly little thing, and fall asleep without wondering when they would see each other again. So they wouldn't have to hide or worry about someone seeing them.

Rick wrapped himself in the blanket and pulled it higher, but his toes were already beginning to grow cold. The chill crept into his fingertips, and the warmth that had spread through his body only moments ago gradually faded, leaving behind exhaustion and an unfamiliar emptiness.

He rolled onto his side and looked at the pillow beside him.

He imagined Aaron lying there facing him, looking at him with sleepy eyes and smiling faintly when he noticed Rick was already awake.

His lips twitched into something resembling a smile, but it disappeared almost immediately.

Rick swallowed, but the lump in his throat only grew. His eyes began to sting. He blinked several times, stubbornly staring straight ahead, then finally squeezed them shut.

Rain whispered outside the window. Somewhere in the house, the heating clicked softly. Rick lay with the blanket pulled over his head, his cheek against the cool pillowcase.

He opened his eyes.

The pillow was still empty.

He remained silent for a long time, staring at the place where Aaron could have been lying.

“I love you…” he whispered, barely audibly.

His phone screen lit up.