Page 62 of Compulsion

People describe some of the defining moments of their lives as the hardest thing they’ve ever faced, don’t they? The most painful decision they’ve ever made; the most heart-wrenching choice they’ve ever taken. It’s just shit, really, isn’t it? To be in that position.

“No, Seve.”

His hands, tight on me. His knee brushing mine. The whole smell of him, the remembered taste. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. I must stay here.”

“Explain this to me,” he said in a clipped tone. His accent had become more pronounced with his emotion. “What do you really mean? That it will be some time before you can come? The wait is not important.”

It seemed very easy now to explain. To put into words the way that I was going to be now. “It’s my promise, Seve, you see. My promise to myself and to Stewart.”

“He is dead, Max.”

I dismissed that with a shake of my head. “I’m still following his advice, Seve. I’m going to accept the past and then move on, but properly this time. I’ll accept the great friends that I have—I’ll treasure them. I’ll let them help me with all those issues, all my baggage. I’ll accept….” I met his eyes. “Accept new relationships, if they come along.” I’d wanted to live up to what Stewart wanted—what he thought I was capable of. What he said I deserved. But I’d been taking the line of least resistance for too long now: pitching below standard, doing only enough to get by. Trying not to be noticed. But I’d dragged the past around with me regardless. I hadn’t seen how anyone could ever forget it. I couldn’t seem to forget it myself.

“I’m going to make this change wholeheartedly.” My voice was jarringly brittle in the quiet room. “I’m going to make my own choices and ask myself exactly what I want, and I’ll live it properly. Set the slate clean. Start again with some more realistic goals. And they’ll be mine and they’ll be honest. I’ll build up some respect for myself at last.”

He stood like a statue. Only the hitch of his breath and the pulse in his throat showed me that he was listening to every word.

“It’s… a lot of it is due to you, Seve, you know? Meeting you—finding you.” And that’s what was making this so bad. So fucking bad. “I want this new me, Seve. I like it! But this is my place now, and I have to stay here to do things properly—to start growing up. Even though I know what this means to… us.”

The air in the room was tight with tension. Dust motes spun in the ray of sun through the window. I heard a motorbike pass outside; a church bell tolled slowly in the background. When Seve spoke, the sound rippled around me like I was in some kind of deprivation tank; I could barely make out coherent words. I hadn’t realized how tightly I was holding on to my senses.

“I won’t lie to you anymore, Max.”

“Sure, I know.”

He was trying to tell me something again, with his eyes. I could only see misery, and it was depressing me beyond anything else. “So I’ll stay here with you.”

“No!” My voice had risen, which startled us both. “That’s not going to work either, is it? There’s your mother. The business. What you need to do.”

Our eyes must have reflected the same anguish, the same realization. It was stalemate for the moment.

“No, of course not,” he whispered.

“Good.” I sounded shaky, even on the single word.

“But… if you had asked….”

I sighed. “Yeah.”

He took a deep breath as if it pained him. “When everything has been concluded, I will come back here.”

I swallowed hard and moved away from him. His hands gripped more tightly for a second, hanging on to my arms. Then he let me loose. “That’s great, Seve. If that’s what you want. But don’t do it for me.” He winced as if I’d hit him. “I don’t want us to go separate ways,” I said. “But I need to get my own head straight. I think… it’s better if I have some time on my own.” There’d been another death, another crime. Seve and I just had too much baggage. It was heavy, and it was complex, and if we didn’t move on, it was going to bury us both. This was the best way to come clean. To start afresh.

At that moment, I was totally sure of it.

Seve made a strange, soft whimpering sound that I’d never heard from him before. He moved suddenly, pressing up against me again, clumsily as if his limbs were no longer under his control. I thought I should probably run—really fast, and in the opposite direction—but I didn’t. I didn’t want to. He clasped me to him, shifting his body against me, and his hand brushed against my cheek.

“I must go, Seve.”

“Of course.” His voice was deep and rough, and it washed over me like a too-hot shower on a cold day. Pure, unadulterated, painful pleasure. “I must go too. I need to make some calls, then pack a bag and order a cab to Gatwick. Just… a little more time?”

He kissed me again then. He reached an arm around my back, and I folded into him like melted chocolate. His mouth was firm and demanding, and I was happy to surrender to it. We were warm, and the taste of him was poignantly sweet. I wrapped my arms around his neck and traced the pattern of his cropped hair at the nape, trying to commit it to memory with my fingertips. He rested his hand on my head, wrapping strands of my hair around his fingers and tugging almost playfully, directing my mouth against his whenever it tried to shift away elsewhere. Our tongues were very fierce and very hungry. I slid my hand up underneath his shirt. He felt rich and exotic, and the flesh was smooth under my touch. I ran my fingers around to his back and then down to his waist. He drew in a breath and pressed his body closer to mine. I had to wriggle to rest my swelling cock against the side of his rather than full on.

“Yes?” he murmured. His hips moved very slightly, but he knew I’d realize what they were asking.

I moved back, adjusting myself to the side again. “No.”