Here for You (17 page)

Cole shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked out at the water, his expression still happy, but thoughtful too.

“What’re you thinking?” It was Ian’s turn to be curious.

“Just looking at the sea. It’s so vast. It’s beautiful, but so big. It makes me aware of how small I am. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of overwhelmingly lovely.”

“Exactly.”

They stared at the water. The sunshine lit up the waves like a hundred tiny spotlights, glistening and moving.

“Ian?”

“Hmm?”

“I never expected to find you this easy to talk to. To be with.” Cole’s gray eyes darkened with emotion. He reached out and ran the tips of his fingers down Ian’s bare shoulder.

Ian cleared his throat. “I’m glad.”

Cole smiled—a funny, bemused little smile. “Yeah, I’m glad too.”

Ian cupped the side of Cole’s face, stroking his jaw with his thumb.

“I should eat,” Cole said gruffly, pulling slightly away.

They chewed their subs. Cole opened a bag of Fritos.

A seagull chose that second to swoop down and eat a crumb. He cawed loudly and triumphantly as he hopped closer to their blanket.

“Here.” Cole laughed and tossed him a chip.

“Better not,” Ian cautioned, but it was too late. Out of nowhere, what seemed like a hundred more seagulls flocked to them, all cawing, hovering over their heads.

“Shit!”

The gulls attacked their picnic, diving for any scraps. One flew at Cole’s hair and he yelped and jumped away. Ian helped, waving his hands at the bird.

“They aren’t at all afraid of us. Too many tourists do what you just did.”

“Get out! Go!” Cole shooed them.

“It’s not working.”

Cole ducked as a few more seagulls swooped down. “Time to run.”

They grabbed their blanket and clothes and ran down to another spot along the shore, the seagulls still devouring the crumbs from their original location. Collapsing down, Cole and Ian both laughed at the same time.

“Oh my God! Didn’t your parents teach you not to feed the seagulls?” Ian chuckled.

“I grew up in the mountains. Besides, my mom never noticed what I did.”

Ian’s humor fled. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” Cole sat down next to him. “Forget it.”

Ian took his hand, playing with Cole’s fingers. “Tell me.”

“You’re stubborn, you know that?”

Ian smiled. “It’s one of the things you like about me.”

“Maybe.”

He wasn’t the only stubborn one. Cole was biting down on his lip.

When Cole didn’t say more, Ian lay back on the blanket. Maybe if he opened up first, Cole would follow? He wanted to get to know Cole, not only know his body or joke with him. Ian didn’t know how to do casual like that.

Nor did he want to be causal. Not with Cole.

“My parents were older. Imagine my terror when my old-fashioned mother found my stash of gay porn in my sock drawer. I was pretty much outed without saying a word.”

“God! You must have volunteered to do your own laundry after that.”

“That and I found better hiding places. But they barely acknowledged what they found. Mostly they focused on my older siblings. I think they were too tired by the time I came along to try very hard, you know?” Ian’s mouth twisted.

Cole gazed up at the blue sky. He didn’t look at Ian as he said, “My dad split when I was small. All I remember about him was the constant fighting with my mom. After he left, things got better in some ways, but worse in other ways. My mom had a lot of boyfriends that partied with her all the time. She wouldn’t have gotten in my sock drawer because I did my own laundry from a young age. I got myself to school. I made my own lunches. Other days I skipped meals. Or I stole other kids’ lunches. I did some things, Ian, that I’m not proud of,” he spoke softly, with remorse. “I was one step away from a foster home or a juvie center, and only escaped that because my mom moved around so much. But I put it all in my past.

“My mom never knew that I was gay, and I don’t think she’d care about it. It was all about her needs….” Cole drew a breath. “She never
saw
me. I could be dirty or starving or hurt, and she would be into some guy.”

Ian rolled to his side. “I’m sorry. Here I was whining about my parents’ lack of attention… hell, there’s no comparison.” Ian’s throat ached. He knew that Cole must have only given the surface details, and he couldn’t imagine a childhood where he was literally hungry and neglected like that.

“No, I’m glad you told me about your childhood. It’s not a contest. You shouldn’t measure hurt.”

“Still, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, it was a long time ago.”

“Cole?” Ian touched at his side, just under his ribs. “For what it’s worth… I see you.”

Cole turned and looked at him. Ian kept his eyes right on him, his gaze serious.

“Thanks.” Cole’s voice caught.

He kissed Ian partly, Ian guessed, to hide from the intensity of the moment. But the kiss only solidified all the words in Ian’s mind as their lips bound together, their tongues met. The kiss was needy and gentle at the same time, and unlike any other kiss Ian had ever shared.

Cole shuddered in his arms.

“You okay?”

“God, Ian, when we kiss—you kiss me with such honesty.”

“I was thinking something similar about you.” They smiled at each other, shy, hopeful smiles. Cole ran his hand across Ian’s shoulder and then down his back.

“Let’s go to your place.”

Ian didn’t have to be asked twice.

“T
AKE
THESE
off,” Ian said, his tone no-nonsense now. They were in his bedroom, all lightness and ease between them gone. The air seared with heat as they touched.

Cole obeyed, pulling off the dark blue cotton briefs he wore. But Ian didn’t touch. Not yet. He stared at Cole’s dick, watching it go from limp to rock-hard-fucking-ready.

That’s it. Get hard from nothing but my eyes on you… the anticipation.

“Ian?” Cole’s voice had lost the joking tone. He wet his lips.

“Cole.” Ian smiled with all the sexy arrogance Cole liked. “I’m going to love you so hard. I’m going to make you go crazy. And you’re going to like it.” Ian still wasn’t touching him, but he let his mouth get close to Cole’s erect cock, his breath caressing it. “Aren’t you.”

It wasn’t a question.

Cole bucked his hips. He arched his head back, ready for Ian’s mouth on his cock.

Ian didn’t give it to him. He teased Cole’s inner thigh. Ian ignored his own bulge, the ache thrumming in his balls. He slid his tongue along Cole’s thigh.

“Oh!”

“Do you like that, sweetheart?” Ian did it again, this time using his teeth a little to graze Cole’s skin. “What do you think?”

“I’m supposed to be thinking?” Cole grunted. “Christ, I’m going to come before you get near my dick.”

“Stop talking like that, or you’re going to kill me.” Ian groaned at the thought of Cole’s cum in his mouth.

“No,
you’re
killing
me
.”

Ian touched Cole’s dick, stroking it. He felt it lengthen in his hand. He jerked Cole’s arousal from its base to its head. His other hand slipped under Cole’s ass and shifted him higher. Ian continued to caress Cole’s dick, getting it slick at the tip. He licked a teasing path up one thigh again, stopping at the hip bone. Ian lowered his mouth there and sucked hard while he tugged at Cole’s rigid cock.

His hand gripped the back of Ian’s head, silently urging him on. Ian held off a little longer, dragging out the hand job, pumping Cole’s dick so that more cum appeared along the slit.

Ian rubbed his cheek over Cole’s cock, his stubble sure to electrify him.

Cole cried out again, wildly thrashing.

Ian circled the head with his tongue. “Hmm. Love your taste.”

“Fuck,” Cole mumbled. Then he groaned deeply as Ian took him into his mouth. Ian slid his lips back and forth.

“God, Ian! The things you do. Your mouth…,” Cole groaned.

Ian cupped his balls, massaging them with his fingers. He gave Cole more of his mouth, letting him push down his throat. He wanted to love Cole beyond everything, to feel him go crazy.

Ian tenderly tightened his grip on Cole’s balls, giving a light squeeze to his nuts as he sucked forcefully at Cole’s erection. Hot sticky cum burst into his mouth and down his throat. Ian closed his eyes, barely able to swallow the gush of cum. He heard Cole shout. Cole shook, out of control, and then quieted, slumping back.

“Oh, Ian. Ian.”

“Yes?” Ian smirked up at him, his lips still glistening with cum.

“You horny bastard.” Cole laughed. “You had to prove it to me, huh? Well, you better never again worry about paying enough attention to me. I think you’ve proven your focus.”

“Good to hear.”

Ian smoothly sat back on his heels. He smiled at Cole, and saw him catch his breath. In a clumsy move, Cole went to kneel beside him. Ian captured his mouth in a smoldering kiss and moaned when Cole returned it just as wildly.

“Ian.”

“Yeah?”

“My turn.”

A
UGUST
ARRIVED
,
and by that time, the household was secure once again, rent covered… and yet it didn’t feel the same. Sandy had moved in and kept his joking to a minimum, and River had taken Brendan’s room, although he continued to live surrounded by Brendan’s things, which was heartbreaking, but nobody had the desire to talk to River about it. They were together, but they were all leading separate lives.

Tomas and Marc barely spoke, leaving a strange tension brewing that Cole guessed was about the night of Brendan’s funeral. They’d crossed some line they’d managed to keep to before. River was more reticent than ever, not engaging any of them in conversation.

Cole would’ve sunk into depression that month if it weren’t for Ian. He spent nearly every day with him. Since Cole had learned about Brendan and River, being with Ian now felt right and natural to him. All those months he’d avoided Ian or tried to paint him as a conservative jerk had really been avoiding what his heart had practically shouted at him: that Ian was meant for him.

Cole hesitated to use the word love, even in his own private thoughts, but being with Ian had opened up his heart in ways that had been locked before this. He stayed up late into the night, writing more than he ever had, while Ian slept next to him. Cole wrote a story about a boy a lot like Brendan meeting a guy a lot like River—only in his story they got a happy ending. He wrote about Ian too—only he wasn’t totally Ian. He was a detective in the 1920s, solving murders. All the stories that Cole had denied were inside of him came roaring out, and he could barely get it all down. He wrote as if he were in a trance at times. He hadn’t done that since he’d been a kid. He’d pushed his imagination away before, only allowing himself to journal here and there. But now it rose inside him like a tsunami: unstoppable, demanding.

Cole kept what he wrote to himself. Once, when he’d been staying at Ian’s, Ian had woken and glanced at Cole, catching him writing furiously.

“What’re you writing?” Ian had asked, yawning. He’d been asleep on his stomach, and propped himself up on his elbows to try to look.

“Nothing. Just a journal that I keep to remember things.” Cole rubbed Ian’s bare back with his hand in a soothing circle. “Go back to sleep.”

“’Kay.” Ian smiled, still sleepy, and lowered his head to the pillow, his breath becoming even and slow again.

Part of Cole wanted to confide in Ian, but he was afraid. He’d never even gone to college. What if his words weren’t any good?

Cole’s only worry about Ian was how perfect he often was—strong but kind, competent but giving. If only Ian could act like a shit from time to time, it might reassure Cole. All Ian’s good qualities made it harder and harder not to fall in love with him, and harder and harder for Cole to fully believe he’d ever be loved back.

C
OLE
SLEPT
late the next day, far past when Ian must have gotten up, and he woke alone. He ran his hand over Ian’s pillow and sighed.

Ian was on the phone when Cole came downstairs. Ian looked at him with a big smile and waved him closer, but he was FaceTiming somebody, and as soon as Cole settled down on his couch, Ian plopped down beside him and kept talking.

“I still am on the mailing list,” the other man said. “I thought you’d want to know about their metal sculpture exhibit this weekend.”

“Thanks. You know how much I love that.”

“I do. You should drive to the gallery. Send me a few pictures too, okay? I miss Miami’s art scene. There’s nothing like it here.” Cole peeked at Ian’s phone. The other man looked every inch an academic—a lawyer or schoolteacher type—bespectacled, slightly messy hair, dressed in a nice shirt and tan slacks.

“I want to go to the Key Biscayne Wine and Food Festival this year,” Ian was saying. “Remember that?”

“Yes, of course. I couldn’t get you away from those Chianti bottles.”

With a sinking feeling, Cole realized who Ian might be talking to, and he didn’t like it. Brendan used to tell him all about Ian’s ex and how devoted they’d been to each other and how Ian hadn’t dated since. A knot formed in Cole’s stomach. Brendan was vague about why Ian and Sam had broken up.

“Sam,” Ian said, confirming Cole’s fears, “you were the one married to the Chianti bottles.”

“That’s not how I remember it at all.” Sam laughed. Then his gaze shifted. “Who’s this? It must be Cole next to you?”

“Oh, sorry, yes.” Ian shifted the phone to include Cole more. “This is Cole.”

His tone was proud, Cole thought, and Cole’s heart warmed a little. He waved at the phone. “Hey.”

“Hi, Cole. Ian’s told me a lot about you.” Sam gazed at him with a kind expression. “I hope we can all meet up someday.”

Cole plastered a smile on his face. “That’d be great.”

“Are you planning a trip to Florida?” Ian asked Sam. “That would be fabulous. I’d love for Cole to meet you in person.”