“You’re not in the army anymore?”
“Not anymore,” Aaron said. He set the bottle on the floor. “It’s all fucked up, isn’t it?”
Quinn glanced at him.
“This town,” Aaron said. “Me, and you, and Charlie. And akid. It’s all fucked up. We were supposed to get out, remember?”
“I guess I did,” Quinn said.
“And now you’re back,” Aaron said, a heavy weight settling in his gut. “For family business.”
“Yeah.” Quinn swallowed. “Now I’m back.”
It was all fucked up.
Something passed between them in the silence, and Aaron waited for a moment and then pushed himself to his feet. He climbed the stairs, listening to see if Quinn would follow.
Quinn did.
* * * *
“Just shut up, okay?” Aaron said, turning awkwardly to see Quinn standing in his doorway. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Okay.” Quinn shrugged like he didn’t give a fuck.
Aaron limped over to the mattress on the floor.
“You used to have furniture though, right? I’m not misremembering that?”
“Shut up or get out, Quinn.” Aaron tugged his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor, and then fumbled with the button on his jeans.
He felt Quinn step up behind him, a wall of heat, before strong arms encircled him from behind, and a second pair of hands was working at his button. Quinn’s fingers were long, his hands not as square as Aaron’s. Aaron might have even mistaken them for elegant, except for the scarred knuckles that spoke of a violent history. They had been unblemished the last time they’d touched Aaron. Then again, Aaron had been unblemished too.
He leaned back as Quinn popped the button of his jeans and tugged his zipper down. His dick was already hard, but that was no surprise. Aaron couldn’t remember the last time he got laid. It had been before his injury. So months, at least, but maybe longer.
“I don’t have anything,” Aaron said. “Blowjobs work for you?”
“Yeah.” Quinn’s voice was low as he slid one hand inside Aaron’s underwear. “You clean?”
“Says the drug addict.”
“I got tested in rehab. I’m clean.”
“And I got tested in the VA hospital,” Aaron said. “You fucking happy now?”
He felt Quinn’s hand still for a moment, and then his warm breath on the back of his neck. He closed his fingers around Aaron’s aching dick. “Works for me.”
Aaron shoved his jeans and underwear down, pushing Quinn away for the moment. His stomach twisted as the denim on his right thigh caught on the liner. He pushed his jeans further down, lifting his prosthetic awkwardly out of his jeans.
“The fuck?” Quinn murmured.
“I told you, shut up or get out.” He didn’t want to talk about this. Not with Quinn, and not with anyone. He kept his back turned on Quinn.
“Your dick still works though, right?” Quinn asked.
“You want to get on your knees and find out?” Aaron managed to extricate his left foot from his jeans at last, and turned around to face Quinn.
Jesus. The look of hunger on Quinn’s face was new.
