“Fuck, yeah,” Quinn said. He pulled his shirt over his head as he swaggered forward. “Been a long time since I sucked your dick, Aaron. Looks like you had a growth spurt, huh?”
Aaron levered himself down onto the mattress, unwilling to trust the prosthetic to hold him up for this. Quinn, unfastening his belt as he moved, slid his jeans down and stopped to tug them off. He was all lean, ropy muscle. He was wiry, almost too skinny. He looked nothing like the boy that Aaron remembered, and maybe that was a good thing. Aaron wasn’t sure he wanted that boy in his bed. Wasn’t sure he could have that boy break his heart again. This man—this stranger—was what he needed now.
Quinn jerked his dick as he stared down at Aaron. “Lie back for me.”
Aaron leaned back onto his elbows, and Quinn knelt between his knees. One hand cupped the kneecap of his left leg. The other made a faint tapping sound against Aaron’s prosthetic, and every one of Aaron’s muscles tensed in anticipation of mockery. He was relieved when Quinn moved the hand, setting in on the warm flesh of Aaron’s inner thigh and coaxing his legs further apart. And then, with a flash of a grin, Quinn leaned in and sucked Aaron’s dick into his mouth, no hesitation.
JesusChrist.
The back of Aaron’s head hit the mattress as he arched up into Quinn’s mouth and Quinn just swallowed him down. And all he could think was that Quinn sure had crawled out of the gutter with a bunch of new tricks up his sleeve, and there was no way in hell that Aaron was going to last. He reached down and curled his fingers tightly in Quinn’s hair, trying, and failing, to resist the urge to pull. Quinn didn’t seem to mind though; he just groaned, his throat fluttering around Aaron’s dick as Aaron’s balls throbbed and the coil of pleasure inside him tightened.
He loosened his grip on Quinn’s hair then, letting Quinn bob up and down on his dick, and lost the ability to feel anything apart from heat and wetness and that inexorable build towards a climax. And right then, one of Quinn’s fingers brushed against his hole.
With a shout, Aaron was coming, way too soon, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it. His body shuddered, and he gasped for breath as he came down Quinn’s throat. He flopped back onto the mattress, boneless, and flung an arm across his eyes so he didn’t have to see Quinn’s smirk. He struggled to catch his breath, and to work out some way to reciprocate that wouldn’t kill his knee.
Sudden weight on the mattress beside him caused him to lift his arm.
Quinn was propped on his elbow. “Come on,” he said, nudging Aaron’s hip with the warm, damp head of his dick. His voice rasped a little. “Give me your hand.”
“Thought you wanted my mouth.”
“Not for this,” Quinn said, and leaned forward and pressed their lips together.
Aaron surrendered to the kiss, sliding his splayed fingers through Quinn’s hair. He shifted, grunting a little at the discomfort of having to move, and then there was room for Quinn to rut against him, his dick sliding across Aaron’s overheated skin. Aaron got a hand between them, and discovered his fingers tangling with Quinn’s, and then they both jerked him off as they kissed.
“Yeah.” Quinn’s breath was hot against Aaron’s mouth. “That’s it. Fuck, yes.” And then, as he came: “Missed you, missed you, Aaron” in a series of choked-off whispers that Aaron tried not to hear.
They lay there, panting, and Aaron couldn’t turn his head to look at Quinn.
This had been a mistake.
Chapter 7
When Quinn had finally dropped Charlie off at the diner, he’d gone back to his trailer. He’d sat on his couch for hours, his mind whirring with possibilities, with questions, with…guilt.
He had a kid. Well, no. He didn’t have a kid,Charliehad a kid. But at the same time, Quinn also had a kid. Because while they’d still been kids themselves, they’d fucked up. She’d let go of her dreams to take care of the person they’d accidentally made and…and Quinn didn’t know what to feel.
So eventually, when he was itching for a joint or something stronger so badly he could taste it, he went and took a shower. Then he redressed and decided that going for a walk might help him…think more?
Somehow, he’d found himself in front of Aaron’s door and now here they were.
When Aaron had called them fuck buddies, it had hurt more than Quinn had been prepared for, but he’d hidden the sharpness of the pain like he’d done for different aches over the years. He’d gotten so good at it, sometimes he could not feel at all.
Now, he sprawled on a mattress on the floor of Aaron’s old room. Cum dried on his skin and he could feel the way Aaron tensed next to him. The respite was over.
Maybe they should’ve fought instead.
“I know you wouldn’t sleep in the downstairs bedroom,” Quinn said into the silence. “But get a frame for this mattress, Aaron. Even I can’t get up from here easily.”
He maneuvered himself off the mattress and grunted as he pushed himself up. He’d been shot in the side a couple of years ago and the muscles anywhere near the exit wound had never recovered properly.
Aaron snorted bitterly.
Before he could say anything, Quinn added, “I knew you, once. Don’t give me any condescending bullshit and self-deprecating cripple jokes.” He pulled on his clothes as Aaron seemed to struggle with the instinct to cover himself up.
“You don’t know anything—”
“About who you are now, right. I agree. And fucking ditto,” Quinn snarked. “But I know neither of us actually belongs in this town, neither does Charlie or Lennox, that’s his name by the way. He looks just like I did when I was his age and it’s still freaking me out a lot.”
