Page 23 of Burning Demons (Burning Torments #1)
Chapter 23
Tate
It had only been blow jobs, but the new level of our relationship felt as if it might be the precipice. How could my soul take any more of his? At some point, fate or God or whoever wrote our destinies would figure out they had made a mistake and take this good thing from me.
No longer was I Tate, singular. Wren had taken over too many of my broken parts and left his mark, made us one entity. Never had I been so quiet around anyone, and yet they heard so much. He got me in ways before I knew they needed getting. As if he were in my mind making sense of the ramble. As if he were in my bones, easing the years of pain so I could think.
Every time I moved, I felt him. The imprint of his hands on me as if he walked right behind me, holding me. His lips on my neck or shoulder, his breath tickling my ear. He surrounded me even when he didn’t.
The weeks slipped by us. Our stolen moments were filled with fewer words and more panting breaths as we learned each other in new ways. And maybe it was boastful or hopeful, but there were times I figured the stain I left on Wren wasn’t so horrible. I thought surely my ugly past would be too much, would make this impossible between us, but Wren, I don’t know, he—grew.
Not physically, of course—my country boy was huge already—but in personality. He held his head higher at school. He smiled more. He laughed and joked around. He let go in band class as he did at home, and the results were startling. And it wasn’t for show. The same confidence followed him when it was only the two of us. His movements were bold and calculating my reaction to his touch. I made sure he knew how he affected me, too, because, holy fuck, he was good at everything.
Neither of us tried to hide it. We hadn’t said we were coming out, and we hadn’t in words. In the parking lot, we walked closer. In the halls, we stood together as if we had secrets to share but said nothing. At lunch, Wren ate while staring at me, filling my imagination with silent promises.
“Did Mr. Stevens call you?” Alex’s harsh voice intruded into the moment. “Wren?”
“Yeah?” He turned away from me with narrowed eyes, then blinked. “Yeah. He called. You helping out too?”
Pressing my lips together, I slowly refocused on Alex. Why did this dick bag have to sit with us for lunch every day? Rhetorical, obviously. Even I saw how much he sniffed around Sienna, who always had time for Wren unless the cheerleaders had something going on.
If ever there was a charitable moment inside me for Alex, I would commend his commitment, his long game, but nope. Alex rubbed me wrong from go , and neither of us was likely to forget it. He only used Wren to be close to Sienna. Wren wasn’t asshole enough to call him on it, but he also wasn’t letting himself get played by Alex, who probably expected him to fork over the in with Sienna.
“He recruited the whole football team.”
“I’m driving my truck, pulling a trailer with hay bales for the kids to ride in.”
“Lucky. He’s got us operating some of the levers on the floats.”
Alex kept going, needing to hear his own voice, I guessed, so I tuned out and searched for Percy. He should be eating inside now that it was much cooler, but he wasn’t around.
“I am so excited for the parade.” Sienna squealed, then turned to me. “Tate, will you go with me? I can get shots of you and the parade.”
I nodded along with her excitement and pulled out my phone to ask Percy if he would want to go with us. Maybe Sienna could get him out of his shell with her inherent bubbliness.
“Why don’t you find a new model, Sienna? Aren’t your followers tired of seeing Tate?” Alex asked.
“No, actually.” She turned to me. “I’d say you need your own social media, but then all my followers would look at yours instead of mine.”
I snorted. “No worries there. I have no interest in trying to keep up with all that as you do. I’m happy to grace yours.” And I didn’t want to know Franklin spied on me. Having my own accounts would make it too tempting to check. His texts were mostly passive-aggressive threats, and I had pushed the fear of him coming for me so deep it took a lot to dredge them up lately, but they still hovered in the corners of my mind.
“Eeeeee! Perfect.” She kissed my cheek, which made Wren harrumph and Alex scowl more.
Wren hadn’t told him there was nothing between Sienna and me to worry about. Alex was a classic dude who didn’t pay attention to details, or he would have figured it out. I got a kick out of seeing him bent out of shape over it anyway.
With every passing day, we got closer to Thanksgiving. The holiday itself wasn’t normally something I would give a second thought over, but this year would be different. Family from Winnie’s and Dad’s sides were coming over. People I now had connections to and had never met. Nervous anxiety welled over making a good impression, but I was also a little excited for it. I couldn’t imagine these new people would be anything but friendly, so the coming day was already leaps and bounds ahead of past years.
That weekend, I went to the kitchen for a drink and found Winnie rifling through a box full of index cards.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked as I pulled down a glass to fill with sweet tea.
Winnie pursed her lips, then sighed. “That’d be nice. One of those hard ciders, please.”
I retrieved the cold bottle and opened it before sliding it across the table to her.
“Thanks, Tate,” she said with her focus back on the index cards.
“Can I help with whatever you’re working on?”
For a long moment, I didn’t think she would answer. Finally, she huffed and smiled. “It’s just the menu for Thanksgivin’. I need one more vegetable. Tryin’ to find one that everyone likes is harder than it seems. Everyone can agree on the carbs and starches and meat. It’s always the vegetables that are the problem child.”
The woman was serious about cooking. I had hoped it could be that thing we could bond over. And it might have been if not for the Tate bars.
I eased onto a chair at the table. “If you can’t find one that everyone will agree on, then just pick what you like. Let them bring their own vegetable next time if they don’t like it.”
Winnie chuckled. “I thought about it. I’m the only one who likes creamed corn, but I’ve a new recipe I wanna try.”
“I like creamed corn if that helps.” Please . Please . I want to be helpful .
She glanced at me with a slight smile and scrunched brows. “Do you?”
I nodded. “I like corn in general. Our cook used to make it a lot during the fall. It’s kind of sweet.”
“You and that sweet tooth,” she mumbled and snapped the box closed. “That settles it, then. Creamed corn it will be. Thank you, Tate.”
“Can I help with the cooking?”
“Uh …”
“It’s a lot of work, right? I can make one of the dishes.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
I grabbed her hand and gave it a tiny shake. “Please? I promise to go strictly by the recipe.”
Winnie tilted her head but stayed silent. Hopefully thinking it over.
“Please. I want to help.” And I really did. Not only to possibly redeem my cooking skills, but I wanted to do something for Wren. I wanted a tangible thing he could see and be proud of me for.
“Wanna make the cranberry sauce?”
“Does Wren like cranberry sauce?” I asked and didn’t care if it seemed weird to do so.
Her lips pulled to one side as if she were fighting a smile, then finally gave in to it. “He does. It’s one of his favorite dishes on Thanksgivin’.”
“I’ll do it.”
Winnie laughed. “Okay, great.”
I studied the recipe, simple as it was, as if it were an exam I had to cram for. The holiday was approaching, and I could not get this wrong. Too many times, I nearly blurted out the details of the task to Wren but managed to keep the secret.
The night before the big day, I followed Winnie’s tried and true recipe to the letter with her supervision. She had been in the kitchen for hours making everything that could be done the night before and had dragged me in to fulfill my part.
I taste tested the finished product, even though it had to chill overnight to be perfect. Tart and sweet and apparently excellent, so said Winnie.
Thanksgiving Day finally came and was a little crazy. It started with an alarm blaring before the sun came up. With Wren helping out the volunteers, he had to be there super early, so I had to be there super early.
We picked Percy up on the way, who was a ball of mixed emotions ranging from relief to happiness to hesitation when he glanced at Wren. Percy seemed a little terrified of social settings in general, but I had hoped with me being near enough, he could relax. He licked his lips and fidgeted his discomfort, and I wondered if there was something more going on than being shy or awkward.
The two of us sat in a coffee shop with hot chocolates as we waited for the parade to start. I’d been getting pieces of Percy since school started and continued to be amazed at how intelligent he truly was. If he had been raised in another place, a city with a better school system, they might have recognized his brilliance a lot sooner than they had. Even still, he had a full academic scholarship waiting on him after this year, which was awesome.
While on our second cup, Percy let go of a good chunk of tension and admitted to his situation at home not being the greatest.
“My dad hates me,” he said softly, staring into his melting whipped cream.
“Don’t all kids think that?” I asked, half joking. I knew better but didn’t want to think it true for him.
He blinked his green eyes at me. “Do all parents say as much?”
“Percy—”
“It’s whatever.” He shrugged and sniffed. “I can’t change his mind, you know? I dunno if he ever gave me a chance, but nothing I do is right. I’m not a son to him. I’m just this person he got stuck with.” His voice lowered with his last words. “Emily is the perfect one. At least they have her, I guess.”
He said it as if he believed that bullshit. Like he truly thought his sister was the child they deserved as parents, so they weren’t completely shit out of luck because of him. I wanted to push for more details, to make sure he wasn’t being hurt or abused. As if realizing he said too much, he clammed up when I poked, and I hastily changed the subject.
Sienna joined us, snapped a few pictures of the shop’s holiday decorations, and then we headed out to meet with Dad and Winnie to watch the parade.
Wren’s truck had a long trailer hitched to the back of it. The outside edge was lined with bales of hay, and a dozen kids dressed as pilgrims waved at us while Wren cruised by at a steady slow-as-hell per hour.
Wren smiled at us, and Sienna took pictures of him, then the kids, then me and a blushing Percy. The floats that passed by were rather impressive for this small town. With not much else to do, I supposed they had plenty of time to put effort into stuff like this and the fall festival that had been a pretty big deal too. Next month was a Christmas parade. Based on this one, I was kind of looking forward to it.
The parade finished by late morning. Dad and Winnie were deep in conversations and good cheer with others when we left with the excuse of Wren needing to wash up before family came over. We dropped Percy off on our way, then couldn’t stop glancing at each other for the last few miles. Nothing was said, but promises were made.
I didn’t have a direction in mind or a need to clean up as Wren did, but I toed off my boots at the back door with him, then hurried for the stairs ahead of him. His arms came around me when we reached the top.
“Take your clothes off,” he whispered over my ear, sending chills to my toes.
Yet he didn’t let me go to do as he said. He kept his hands on mine as I fumbled with the button on my jeans. He didn’t lead my movements but owned them all the same. Wren licked a warm stripe up my neck from collar to ear, and I melted.
“Wren,” I whispered.
“We don’t have a lot of time, but I need you.”
“I can be fast,” I said and shoved my half-unzipped jeans down my hips.
Wren pushed his erection into my boxer-covered ass. “You looked so fuckin’ good all bundled in your scarf and watchin’ me. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep this under control with a bunch of screaming kids in the back of my truck?”
I choked out a laugh, turning in his arms. “Oh God.” I petted his cheek. “Poor Wren.”
He gnashed his teeth and growled at my teasing, all while backing me into his room. I stumbled with my pants tight around my legs, but Wren kept me steady with his strong arms. Once he shut the door, I pushed off him and reached for the hem of my sweater. Wren tilted his head to one side, licking his lips and blatantly staring. His jeans bulged in the front, but he only rubbed his jaw, then crossed his arms over his chest and enjoyed my little striptease.
“Mmm. Damn. You’re fuckin’ sexy, Tate. I wanna mark you up. Put hickeys and bruises all over you.” He bit his lip and stared into my eyes. “Is that weird? You make me a little crazy.”
“Not weird.” I stepped into him, completely naked to his completely clothed. “You make me a little crazy too.”
“We’re even, then.”
I glanced down to his socks and back up. “Hardly.”
He grinned, shrugged those wide shoulders, and I attacked. A thread in his sweater popped as I ripped it up and off his head. Not sorry. He chuckled and lifted his hands in surrender as I tackled the button on his jeans next. He snatched his socks off, and then we pushed his pants down together.
Jesus, he was hot. His rounded delts and meaty pecs were droolworthy. I leaned in and covered him in tiny bites as he squeezed my ass. Wren yanked me up against him, his hard cock rubbing mine.
“Yes. God, yes.”
“We gotta hurry, baby,” he whispered, then bit my earlobe.
Baby? Hurry? Right. Fuck, our parents.
We clawed and bit each other as he walked me backward to his bed. I tripped; he caught me, then lowered us down. I stretched and purred as he kissed down my chest, even acted like he might bite my dick, but only gave it a quick kiss before doing the same all the way down to my toes.
“I can’t believe my life right now,” he said softly as he crawled back up. He kissed the inside of my knee, my hip, licked along the happy trail under my navel, scraped his teeth over my nipple, then pressed me back into the mattress with his weight.
We made out hard and fast. My lips were so swollen. The scent of him was all over me, and I loved it.
Wren flexed his hips forward, seeking relief that I sorely needed too. Our cocks rubbed together, and like finding out that was fucking possible for the first time, he did it again with ragged moans.
Thrust. Thrust.
“You feel so good.”
I locked my legs around his waist. Wren dug his fingertips into the outside of my thigh, holding me and bruising me more as he bucked, humping into me, rubbing our lengths together, and building that desperation in me he so easily activated.
He scraped his teeth over my lower lip, and then he sat back so fast I shivered. His dick bobbed between us before standing at attention. And what a dick. Perfect. Long and thick, with a slight curve that got me hard just thinking about it, and a fat, purplish head.
“You’re staring,” he grumbled.
“Get over it.”
He smoothed his hands up my legs, over my hips to my sides, then came back down on me. Had the whole point of that been to touch me? Drive me a little more wild for him? In my distraction of him and my thoughts, he’d poured lube onto his hand. Leveraged on an elbow, he lined us up and gripped our dicks together.
It took a few strokes of the unfamiliar, and then Wren jacked us both with a solid grip and a steady speed. I did my part as an active participant. I slapped his ass once, then gripped the warmed skin in one hand, pulling his cheeks apart and trailing my fingertips between them with the other.
“Shit, you’re gonna make me come.”
“The point,” I said while nibbling his chin.
We thrust between his hold and madly made out. Wren’s warm breath fanned my face the few times we parted, his lips hovering over mine and whispering curses until he took my mouth again.
“I’m close, fuck.”
His balls slapped at mine, then dragged across them as if they had to caress mine again.
“Me too,” I whispered, then rubbed my nose on his and nipped his lips. “Faster.”
“Yes. Ah. Ah.” Wren’s brows drew down, almost like it hurt, but I knew better. I knew him. “Tate?”
“Come, Wren. Pleeeeease.”
“Tate,” he moaned, burying his face in my neck and convulsing in my arms.
Hot come hit my stomach and chest. His ecstasy singing in my ears and the pulse of his cock sent me over after him. Wren flexed every muscle, forcing my body into the mattress, holding me prisoner in my own throws of bliss until we were rung out and heaving for air.
Our breathing slowed, and after an audible swallow, Wren pressed tiny kisses against my throat. The tight cords of his back and legs shifted until he had the majority of his weight off me.
“Shower with me,” he said between kisses down my chest, and then he sucked on a nipple.
I shoved my fingers into his shaggy hair and arched to his lips. “Think we have time?”
Before he could raise his head to answer, a car door banged outside, followed quickly by a second one.
“Shit,” Wren jumped up and grabbed random clothes off the floor. “Fuck.”
I scrambled for everything I’d carelessly tossed earlier so I could make a mad dash for my room before our parents came inside. Wren stopped me at his door and kissed me with a loud smack to my lips and then another smack to my ass.
He didn’t say anything, just grinned, rushed past me, and slammed into the bathroom. I was down the hall, the shower already running, when the back door opened with a laughing Winnie announcing just how close that had been.
Wren’s shower lasted only minutes, and when he closed the door to his bedroom, I went to the bathroom and cleaned the dried come off my stomach, then sprayed fresh cologne in case I smelled like sex.
Winnie’s younger sister and her husband and baby showed up first. Winnie’s parents came shortly after them, and Dad’s brother with his family were last to arrive. My uncle, actually. It was weird having family. Mother was an only child to older parents. Her dad passed away before I was born, and if Franklin had family, he never spoke of them.
Dad’s parents were spending the holiday in Florida, and I was a little bummed I wouldn’t get to meet them yet. Uncle Thomas was a cool guy, though. He was older by five years, but his kids were younger than me at ten and seven. Sometimes I had to remind myself Dad was only thirty-five.
Connie and their mom, Valerie, helped Winnie in the kitchen. They shooed all the men outside to watch over the turkey. My young cousins, Will and Major, played Mario Kart in the living room, so Wren and I hung out with the men.
Dad, Uncle Thomas, Winnie’s dad, who insisted I call him Pawpaw as Wren did, and Connie’s husband, Kevin, stood around the smoker, talking football and drinking beer. Football was a huge part of the holiday, they said, but I kept it to myself that football was a huge part of everything down here.
Games played all day long, but Wren explained they weren’t anyone’s favorite teams. I had been forewarned that on Saturday, I was not to come between Wren, Dad, and the Iron Bowl.
Speaking of Dad, he handed Wren a beer and made him swear not to mention a thing about it. I stuck with water. I might have been a lightweight but wouldn’t have said no to a rum and Coke. However, I drew the line at beer. No, thank you. Uncle Thomas lit up a cigarette, and I stepped closer to bum a smoke. He didn’t mind at all, and the afternoon passed smoothly.
My nerves about meeting all of the extended family got lost in the laughter and good-natured digs on Wren’s plate needing sideboards and mine needing actual food and not only desserts. I had at least a spoonful of everything. They just couldn’t see it behind the mounds of sweet potato casserole.
And the food was amazing, all of it.
I ate more than I normally would and beamed as the cranberry sauce got a few compliments. Wren drenched his turkey with it, and Winnie winked at me from across the table. Food really did bring people together, and my interest in learning how to cook grew.
The late afternoon was filled with sweet treats and talks of Christmas shopping and, of course, football. With the living room packed full of bodies, I sat on the floor in front of the sofa and between Wren’s spread knees. A plate full of cookies, fudge, cake, pie, and other goodies balanced on my lap. Wren leaned forward a few times, crowding around me like a hug, and grabbed something from the plate.
I glanced around, ready to defend any accusations, but no one said a thing.
That night, Wren and I swiped through the pictures Sienna uploaded from the parade. There was one of me Wren couldn’t stop going back and staring at. A profile of me as I glanced at her over my shoulder with a little smirk. The lights behind me were blurry, and I had to admit, it looked pretty good.
“Tate.” Wren blew out a breath that was half chuckle. “Seriously, you should be a model. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous.”
I bit down on his bare shoulder. “I think boyfriends are required to say shit like that.”
“It’s not just me, man. Why else do you think Sienna has hundreds of pictures of you?”
“Because she’s your friend.”
“Fuck that. She’d find another model if you weren’t bringing in the views.”
Heat rushed into my cheeks, and I buried my face against his bicep. Wren kissed the top of my head and hummed, either amused or maybe trying to comfort me. In New York, people had suggested modeling. But I hated the idea. Mostly because Mother loved it. Whatever gave her more of the limelight. Yeah, no, thanks. I didn’t need any more reasons for her to shine while criticizing my every step.
Sienna had also put together her preliminary choices for the calendar. I hastily changed the subject from me to her work. She had toyed with how she wanted to do it but went with varying scenes of the town for each month. I would be featured in the picture for November since she claimed I had the best coloring for fall. I hadn’t commented. She was the one with the good eye.
“Will you be in the Christmas parade?” I asked.
“Yeah, probably. The fire department puts on both parades, and Mr. Stevens knows I don’t mind helping out. It’s kinda fun.”
“Those kids were having a good time. I almost hopped on the trailer with them.”
Wren chuckled. “Maybe you can volunteer to help for the next one. You could be an elf.”
“Why not Santa?”
“Somehow, I’d feel better fantasizing about blowing an elf’s dick than fighting Mrs. Claus for Santa’s dick.”
“You think she’d be better than you at giving head?”
“Why you think Santa’s always smiling with those red cheeks?”
“Good point,” I snickered.
Friday morning, Wren and I were tasked with getting the Christmas decorations out of the attic. The outdoor stuff was in the garage, but the indoor stuff was up the tiny stairs Wren pulled down from the ceiling in the hallway between our rooms.
“Mom’s got the shit in red and green tubs. Just grab all that you see.”
With Wren at the base of the steps, I handed down seven Christmas tubs, and then we took them downstairs. It was tradition, one of many, that on the day after Thanksgiving, Dad and Wren decorated outside the house while Winnie switched all the plates and kitchen towels with Christmas ones. Then together, they put the tree up and decorated the living room. Only this year, I got to do it with them.
I wasn’t much help outside. I had ladder duty, which was really just me standing there daydreaming about Wren’s ass.
Dad and Wren hung strands of white lights all around the roof’s edge, and then I helped spread the multicolored lights in the bushes and around the mailbox. The last thing to be placed was a huge wreath to decorate the front door.
We’d had decorations for the holidays at my home in New York, but in all ways, it lacked the motive and effort of what we did today.
Mother never raised a finger to decorate for Christmas. Hell, she hadn’t even made calls to the companies who did everything. One of the housekeepers had. A crew came and in hours transformed the cold, dark lines of everyday life into a faked warmth coated in red, gold, and silver. No one spoke. No one told holiday jokes or rehashed memories from years before. No one hummed Christmas carols as Winnie did all damned day until every fucking one of them was stuck in my head.
Everything, my entire life with Mother and Franklin, had been for appearance’s sake. The trending colors, the expensive and meticulously placed trinkets, the parties to show it all off, and never forget the secrets in plain sight. Half the presents under the tree were empty packages. For gifts, I received stocks and deposits into a trust I couldn’t access for another seven years. Practical, true, but what kid wanted to hug a certificate on Christmas morning?
Not a single holiday stood out in my mind for any of the reasons they should have, and the worst part was that I never knew I had missed out on so much until today.
We drove to a lot with trees in neat rows. Wren and I laughed while Dad and Winnie playfully argued over the choice between character or beauty. The tree they chose filled the house with the strong scent of pine. The natural woodsy smell was better than all the fake spray and candles Mother insisted on every year. And that summed up this moment for me. Real. Not faked, not forced.
Once Dad and Wren had it placed in the living room, I helped Winnie hang Wren’s childhood ornaments and almost cried with each one. They were tragically ugly, but he had made them with his once tiny hands, so they were contest winning in my mind. In Winnie’s mind too. She told stories with each one while Wren’s ears burned a bright red and Dad laughed.
I never knew it could be like this. I never knew those moments in the movies where people smiled for no reason at all actually happened. I never knew what family meant.
Wren, Dad, and Winnie had changed my life in so many ways and all for the better. Sometimes it was scary and overwhelming, but those times were loud enough to drown out the nightmares that came less and less. Maybe one day, I would never hear his whispers in my head again. Maybe one day, I would smile for no reason too.
Dad took Winnie shopping on Sunday and left us alone for the first time since after the parade on Thursday morning. The TV was on, football because of course, but Wren stared at me as the sounds of Dad’s truck faded with distance.