Page 17

Chapter 16

Louis

I should have given Ravi a black eye for letting Sparrow escape and putting him in danger, but when he shows up later that day with a bag of hamburger patties and buns, it’s like nothing ever happened between us. He’s lucky everything with Sparrow worked out. Otherwise, he would have tasted my fist for sure, and he wouldn’t be smiling like that where he sits now on my patio while I grill said hamburger patties.

“So,” Ravi says, “what’s it been like having him here with you?” He points into the living room, where Sparrow is lying on his stomach, waving his legs about and watching those nature documentaries he can’t seem to get enough of. When he sees me and Ravi watching him, his eyes brighten, and he waves at us.

I turn around to hide my smile from Ravi. “He’s…strange.” Wonderful but strange.

“Seems pretty normal to me,” Ravi says, gesturing with an unlit joint. “A little shy, but you’d know what that’s like, wouldn’t you, Louis?”

I scowl into the grill as I watch the burgers bleed. “I’m not shy.”

“Yeah, right,” Ravi says, and I hear the grin in his voice. “You just hate people. Got it.”

I send him a backward glance, showing him my canines in a half snarl, half smile. Fucking Ravi. Always the expert at making me feel annoyed and at peace at the same time. It’s a strange combination—one he’s unique at bringing forth. With Sparrow, on the other hand, I feel endeared and horny, and I don’t know what’s better. If nothing else, I know what’s more unnerving.

I glance into the living room again, watching Sparrow’s enraptured expression as he cradles his cheeks in his hands, his full attention on the TV screen.

“There’s…something up with him,” I say, surprised at the words coming out of my mouth unbidden.

“Something up with him? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t seem like he knows a lot about…about sex.” Heat rushes to my neck, and I look away. Why do I feel embarrassed talking about this with Ravi? I don’t fucking care. It’s not like we haven’t joked around about the people we have sex with before, and Ravi is well known for picking up women left and right. None of those conversations were serious though.

This one is.

Ravi sits up straighter. “Look, man, if you want my advice, you gotta be a little less vague, okay? I can’t be talking in riddles and shit.”

“He doesn’t know about consent.”

“What, he tried to rape you or something?” Ravi says with a startled laugh.

“It’s not funny,” I shoot back at him.

“Well … what did he do?”

“Doesn’t matter what he did.”

“It kind of does.”

“Just shut up and tell me what I should do.”

Ravi gives me a blank look. “Well…have you tried explaining it to him?”

I give a half shrug.

“… And?”

“He said he wouldn’t care if I fucked him while he was sleeping, even if we hadn’t talked about it first.”

“Well, yeah, he told me he wouldn’t care if you hurt him, so it checks out.”

“But I don’t want to hurt him.” My eyes fall shut, and the burning sensation in my chest has nothing to do with the heat from the grill.

“I know,” Ravi says, quietly for once. “Jokes aside, I’d say you just need to talk to him about it.”

That’s what I thought. Grimacing, I turn the burger patties with more force than necessary.

“I know it’s not your strong suit,” Ravi drawls.

“You’re not helping,” I mutter.

He sighs. “Okay, fine.” He brings his unlit joint to his mouth and flicks the lighter. “Shit like this, it’s complicated, okay, and it’s not exactly my strong suit. But one thing I’d say is that the kid seems kinda scarred. He’s probably got some learned behavior and some weird beliefs about sex and stuff. I’d bet my left nut it has to do with his ex.”

“Yeah.” That’s what I thought.

“But when you talk to him, maybe just start with the basics, okay? Like, explain to him that as soon as he feels like he doesn’t want something, he should say so. If he’s asleep, he can’t say yes or no. If he’s drunk or high, the grounds are murkier, but same thing goes.”

A chill slithers up my spine. Ravi said this subject isn’t his strong suit, but it’s hardly mine either, and this whole conversation hits a bit too close to home. It reminds me of how careless I’ve been in some situations. How selfish. Like with that green-eyed kid I knew wasn’t sober, but I didn’t give a fuck; I just did what I wanted, and what I wanted was him. At the time, I didn’t think anything of it, but now…

I glance back into the living room, and Sparrow smiles at me. Fuck, he’s so sweet, and I’m…not. Scowling, I stare into the grill and bark at Ravi to bring the packet of hamburger buns.

There’s obviously some shit to unpack with Sparrow regarding consent, and obviously I’m not the best person for the job. In fact, I…I might be one of the worst.

“Can I have some of that?”

I turn around. Sparrow has nudged the door open, and now he’s pointing at Ravi’s joint.

Ravi exhales a cloud of smoke and reaches his hand out. “Sure thing, kid.”

“What?” I growl. “No. No way.” I rip the joint away from him and throw it to the ground.

“Hey!” Ravi protests and dives for the joint, carefully brushing it free of dirt. “The kid can decide what he wants.”

“Not under my roof.”

“Nothing wrong with a little weed,” Ravi mutters and relights the joint.

“Please,” Sparrow begs. “I want to try some. I’ve never had it.”

“I told you no!” I bellow, raising my voice far louder than I intended to.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Sparrow snaps.

“Yeah, you tell him, kid,” Ravi says.

I send them both a death glare. “As long as you live under my roof, you’re going by my rules, got it?”

Sparrow’s cheeks go a deep red, but he doesn’t say anything more.

I turn the burger patties over, swearing under my breath when they’ve gotten a little burned.

“If you hadn’t interfered, everything would be fine,” Sparrow points out.

“Yeah, Louis,” Ravi says, “you can’t keep protecting him from everything, you know.”

I ignore them, and a glance at the table tells me something is missing. “Didn’t I tell you to bring the buns?” I ask Ravi.

Ravi sends a sly glance Sparrow’s way. “Somebody else already brought them.”

Sparrow’s eyes widen in understanding, and he bursts out in laughter.

I send Ravi a glare. How dare he flirt with Sparrow? Maybe I’ll have to give him that black eye after all.

Motivated by my murderous stare, Ravi goes to fetch the buns as I asked him to do at least five minutes ago, and we can finally eat.

Ravi devours his burger like a savage beast as usual. “Incredible,” he moans with his mouth full. “What do you think, kid?” he adds, glancing at Sparrow.

“Oh yeah, it’s really good!” Sparrow takes such small bites of the burger that it’s going to take at least an hour for him to finish. “I suck at cooking, but Louis always makes me good food. I never ate like this at my foster home. Aaron made me mac and cheese sometimes, but—” He stops himself, glancing between the two of us.

Ravi clears his throat. “This Aaron guy…You think he’s still here in town?”

“Yes,” Sparrow says, voice cut off and high-pitched.

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m still here.” He looks down on his plate, no sign remaining of his earlier enthusiasm. “He won’t leave. N-not until he…”

I reach over and squeeze his thigh, and his gaze flips back to me. “You’re okay, kid. I won’t let him take you.”

“Promise?” Sparrow whispers. “Promise you’ll let me stay with you?”

“I already told you, didn’t I? Now eat up.” I nod to his half-eaten burger, and he smiles and takes a bigger bite.

Sparrow helps me with the dishes after Ravi has left, and I keep glancing at him as I wipe the table. I know I should talk to him, but how do I even start? It’s better to have the conversation sooner rather than later to avoid any potential misunderstandings. The last thing I want is to hurt him. For all I know, he’d let me hurt him, and I’d be none the wiser, and that would be just as horrible.

After we’ve cleaned the kitchen, I sit on the couch and put on another one of his nature documentaries, and I don’t even have to say anything; he jumps onto the couch with an excited smile.

“Do you like them too?” he asks.

I give a grunt in reply.

“We don’t have to watch them if you don’t want to,” he says quickly.

“No, I do.” I wrap an arm around his shoulder, and he snuggles up to me, curled up like an armadillo.

“This is a scary one,” he mumbles after a while. “The deep sea is scary, don’t you think?”

I barely hear him. Every time I try to come up with how to start, the words get stuck in my throat. Why is this so hard? Sparrow’s anxious ways must be rubbing off on me. I don’t want to just parrot Ravi’s words to him, but I’m not sure I can say it in my own words.

When the credits roll, I grab the remote to turn the sound down.

“Is something wrong?” Sparrow asks, worry coating his words.

I hesitate before I lift my arm off him. “Do you remember this morning? When you woke me up by…”

“I remember,” he replies, looking even more worried, and he fidgets with the sleeve of his shirt. “Are you still angry?”

“I already told you; I didn’t get angry with you.” But my words do nothing but make him shudder. I sigh and put both hands on his shoulders. “This isn’t about that. Or it is, but…” I shake my head, clenching my teeth at how unworthy I feel to have this conversation in the first place. “It’s just that I…I worry about something.”

“About what?” Sparrow asks, tugging his lower lip between his teeth.

“I worry you don’t know how to say no, or when you should say no. The right you have to say no.”

“Why would I say no?”

“Because you feel like it. Because this thing, between you and me”—I point between us—“it’s not meant to be one-sided, or like I’m doing things to you that you just go along with because I want to do them, okay?”

He frowns.

“How does that sound?” I ask. “Do you understand me at least a little?”

“I … guess so.”

“Good. From now on, we’re not doing anything you don’t want to. As soon as you’re uncomfortable with anything— anything —I want you to tell me.”

Sparrow bites his lip. “But…what if I get nervous?”

“Nervous about what?”

“What if…what if you won’t like me if I don’t go along with what you want?”

I stroke along his arms, trying to relieve us both of the tension plaguing us from the inside out. “That won’t happen. I’ll always like you. Always.” My throat thickens around the words. They don’t come naturally to me, far from it, and I’m amazed at the relative ease with which they spill from my mouth. But they don’t come without a price; my eyes are burning, and I take a deep breath and make an effort to let go of the moment, of the feelings. Force them back down.

I haven’t cried in ages. In years. Ravi—the idiot—even tried to make me cry once when we were drunk and watching a sad movie. You gotta let that stuff out, man; it’s not healthy to keep it in. It’s like you’re edging your emotions. Maybe that’s why you Hulk out sometimes, huh? I stood up and growled at him to fuck off and leave, and he hasn’t brought it up since.

Maybe he’s got a point though. Sparrow seems to let his emotions out whenever he feels like it, and it’s what I most admire about him, so why can’t I grant myself the same peace?

It’s in my nature to hate, beat, and torment, and it’s in Sparrow’s nature to love, cry, and feel everything with the strongest possible emotion. He must be rubbing off on me, because for the first time in my life, I find myself unable to control not only my anger but my other feelings as well. Sparrow is tugging at the numbness in my old, shriveled-up heart. He’s so stubborn. So fearless in what he wants, even when he fears it. Isn’t that what you call bravery? Maybe he’s brave to cry, and maybe I’m a coward to refuse.

“One more thing,” I say, lifting a hand to stroke his hair, fingers dragging slowly along his scalp. He leans his head back, closing his eyes at the sensation. “I want you to tell me when you get scared, all right? I’ll comfort you. Can you promise me that?”

“I think so. But…I feel silly sometimes.”

“It’s not silly. You want to be a good boy for me, don’t you?”

His eyes flutter shut, and his mouth tilts into a smile as he lets out a breathy yes.

“And you want to do what I tell you, don’t you?”

“Yeah. It’s all I want.”

I can’t help but smile. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who’s both so eager to please and eager to be pleased.

“So,” I say. “What do you want to do now?”

“Want to keep watching,” he says, glancing at the TV. “But I want this too.” And he presses boldly down on my crotch with his palm.

“Mm-hmm,” I grunt. “And how are you going to manage that?”

“Maybe I can just…hold it in my mouth a little bit? I want to please you.”

“Well, then. Go ahead.”

He looks up at me as he undoes my pants and carefully takes out my cock. I lean back on the backrest as he lies on his stomach, head in my lap. As he wraps his lips around the flaccid head, I gasp at the heat of his tongue, but he just keeps himself there—warm and soft, suckling at my cock as we continue to watch TV.

Well, there’s not much watching on my part—I’m busy keeping myself from pressing his head down and making him blow me properly.

When the credits roll, Sparrow slurps saliva around my cock and finally starts to bob his head and get me hard. I stroke my hand down his back and into the hem of his pants, and he moans around my shaft as I press a finger over his hole.

I can’t wait to take his ass again. Can’t wait to feel it clutching my cock while he moans so sweetly, amazed that he can take me so well, that his body can stretch to accommodate my size. It is amazing. He’s amazing.

“Come here,” I say, tapping my thigh.

He climbs into my lap and kisses me, his lips slick with precum and spit. Breaking the kiss, I slide my fingers into his mouth and gather some of that sticky mixture before I bring my hand to his ass, and he whimpers as I slide my forefinger along his crack.

“Are you sore?” I mumble into his neck.

“A little,” he says, breath hitching. “But it…mmm…feels good. I want it.”

“Good. Always tell me what you want. What you don’t want.” I press the finger inside to the first knuckle. “What you like. What you don’t like.”

“I like it,” Sparrow whines, hips shifting up and down, riding my finger. “I like it, Louis. Please…please.”

“Please what?”

“Want you inside. Want you to come inside me. No condom.”

Oh fuck. Maybe he could tell; maybe he saw my disappointment last night when I couldn’t watch my cum seep out of him. Or maybe he’s just a lot more dirty-minded than I thought.

“Well, have you gotten tested?” I ask.

Sparrow nods. “I did after I left Aaron. I always suspected he had sex with other people while we were together. I c-couldn’t know for sure, but I still wa-wanted to…” His voice starts shaking, and I place two fingers over his lips.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’ve done good. Means I’ll get to fill you up. You want that?”

“Yes. God, yes.” He closes his eyes, shuddering at the mere thought.

“We’ll be safe,” I mumble into his neck. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Sparrow whimpers and keeps rocking his hips back and forth to bring my finger in deeper.

“Can hardly wait for my cock, can you?” I ask with a smirk.

He shakes his head. “No, I can’t. Please…please…”

With one swift movement, I rise from the couch, and Sparrow yelps in excitement and surprise as I carry him into the bedroom. There, I lay him on the mattress like I did last night, and we help ourselves get rid of our clothes.

“Louis?”

I kneel on the bed and grab a bottle of lube. “Yeah, baby boy?”

“I want you to…to press down on me.” He gestures to his naked torso, a hand over his heart. “With your weight. Want you to hold me down so I can’t move.”

“Mm-hmm,” I grunt as I tower over him, fisting my cock in my hand. “Turn around, then. I’ll give you what you want.”

He flips to his stomach, eagerly arching his backside into the air. I can barely resist using my mouth on him again, but after an hour of a half-finished blow job, getting hard and soft over and over again, I’m desperate for his tight heat clutching my cock.

I pour a generous amount of lube into his crack, and he hisses at the cold. Then I slip a finger between his cheeks and into his hole, making sure he’s relaxing before I add another. He bunches up the sheets in his hands, rocking his hips against my hand.

“You ready for it?” I climb over him and press him down on the mattress, cock resting against his opening.

“Yeah,” he whines. “So ready.”

“Really?” I ask with a smirk. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. P-Please. I want…”

I sink inside, and his hitched breath dissolves into a moan. I pause there, letting him adjust, gentle even in the face of this game between us.

“How about now?”

“Re-Ready,” he blabbers, as if he’s barely aware of what he’s saying. “Still ready. Want it.”

I thrust into him, shallow and slow at first, then harder, snapping my hips against his ass. After a while, he gets so quiet that I start to worry he can’t breathe, so I press my upper body away from him, letting some weight off his chest.

“You still with me, boy? Can you breathe all right?”

“Yeah,” he gasps. “Tell me I’m a good—” I snap my hips into him, and he moans desperately. “Tell me I’m a good boy. Tell me I’m yours.”

“You are.” I’m growing delirious too—drunk on the feeling of his trust, his certainty that I won’t hurt him, even when I’m holding him in a position that he wouldn’t be able to get out of even if he wanted to—not with our differences in weight and strength. “You’re such a good boy. My good boy. Mine.”

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers, voice pitifully thin and breathy. “Fuck.”

His hips rub against the sheets, and I can tell he’s reaching climax by the tightness of his ass clenching around my cock. I’ve been on the verge of coming for minutes, so I finally let go, crushing my hips against him and letting out an animalistic groan in his ear.

Breathing. For a few long moments, all we do is breathe together, while I make sure not to crush him with my weight as I relax.

As I shift down his body, he whines from the loss of my pressure. I take his ass in both hands and hold his cheeks open, exposing his hole. He’s gotta be sore by now, so I lick him gently, lapping up the lube and our pleasure, and he lets out a sound like a sob, oversensitive as he must be, but he doesn’t pull away, even when I press my thumb inside him to open him back up a little.

“Push out for me, boy.”

He lets out a sigh, and a few moments later, slick white cum seeps out of his hole, coating my thumb. My spent cock twitches at the sight, and I groan as I smear my release around his reddened rim.

“So good,” I mumble. “So obedient for me.” My fingers slip easily inside his loosened hole as I press some of the cum back into him. “Want you to keep this inside forever. Always remember how I filled you up. How I made you feel.”

He lets out a weak, wrecked sound, wriggling into my touch. “The plug.”

I smile. Of course. “Where is it?”

“The drawer.”

I get the silver-colored plug with the pink gem and press it into his hole. It goes in easily, and he sighs in relief.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

I keep my thumb on the gem and press it in circular motions, teasing the stretched walls of his ass. I consider making him come again, but he needs some rest if I want to be able to play with him again tomorrow, so I fetch a towel from the bathroom and proceed to wipe him down.

He whines when I lift his backside to wipe away the cum underneath him, and his face is red as he turns to me, indents of the sheets lining his cheek. He’s smiling—a sated, fucked-out smile.

I smile with him. “You did good.”

“I did? I made you proud?”

“Oh yes. So proud.”

He sprawls himself across my chest, head on my naked clavicle. “I’m sleepy. Can I sleep like this?”

I shift the covers over our bodies. “Yeah, go ahead. I’m tired too.” But not so tired that I’ll find it easy to sleep just yet. I end up staying awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling, a weird pressure at the back of my throat and a tightness behind my eyes.

This all seems to have gone over well. Sparrow communicated with me. He told me what he wanted, but on the other hand, it didn’t seem like I did anything he disliked. If I overstep his boundaries by accident in the future, what will he say? Will he be truthful? I can’t know for sure.

Besides that, I think of the dangers he might come to and the pain that would befall me should they come true. My life is a violent one, and Sparrow is many things, but he’s not fit for violence.

Still, it’s not from sorrow that the tears spill down my cheeks; it’s from joy and the uncertainty in how to preserve that joy. For the first time in years, I let myself cry, with Sparrow asleep and sprawled over my torso. But even though he might be asleep, I think he knows. He’s wise like that.