Page 26 of Santino (The Camboy Network #4)

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

SANTINO

He’s killing me. Hayden is killing me and I won’t regret a single moment of it.

I don’t think I’ve ever had my prostate played with. I would’ve remembered if I had. Because this is like mainlining cocaine and heroin and meth all at the same time. It’s fucking euphoric.

My fingers dig painfully into the backs of my knees, not just to hold my legs up, but also to keep myself from coming too soon. I'm already inching so close to the edge, I need to do everything I can to stave it off.

Hayden’s got three fingers in me. Which isn’t quite as thick as his cock at full mast, but it’s pretty damn close. And every time he pushes at my prostate, fireworks go off behind my eyes.

He licks a path across my taint, his tongue wiggling back and forth over the seam running down the middle, then pops my balls one at a time into his mouth for a quick suck. When he finally gets to my dick, I’m almost scared of how it’ll feel.

His tongue swirls around the angry, purple head, licking up pre-cum leaking from my slit. Then he gradually feeds my cock into his mouth. So hot. So wet. The tight suction has me shaking uncontrollably.

I hit the back of his throat, but that doesn’t stop him.

He swallows and I slide right down. His nose is flush against my pelvis.

His fingers are tapping away at my prostate.

He swallows in time with the taps and the dual sensation is driving me out of my mind.

No one’s ever done anything like this to me before. He’s ruined me for anyone else.

Hayden starts up a rhythm between his fingers and his mouth. Bobbing and thrusting and swallowing and tapping. It’s a non-stop onslaught of pleasure pulsing through my body that completely scrambles my brain.

I hear someone screaming. I think that someone is me.

Just when I think I can’t take anymore, Hayden rubs his thumb on my taint a few times and presses. The pressure on my prostate from another angle sends a different kind of pleasure coursing through me. Now he’s coming at me from three directions and it’s too much.

He thrusts his three fingers as far into my ass as they’ll go, pressing on my prostate from the inside. His thumb pushes from the outside. He swallows my dick down like his throat is giving me a massage. Altogether, all at the same time, it sends me flying over the edge.

My entire body goes taut as I explode in Hayden’s mouth. My vision goes white. My ears ring. Every cell lights up as pleasure rushes at me like a tidal wave. There’s no way to escape it. There’s nowhere to hide. It crushes me under its intensity and I’m fucking ded.

I black out.

I’m not sure how long I’m out for, but when my brain decides to start working again, I find Hayden lying half on top of me. His face is pressed against my neck and his short, fast breaths are hot against my skin. He’s tense and rigid and not in a good way.

“Babe?” I brush my fingers through his hair, trying to get a better look at his face.

He clings to me tighter, burrows even deeper.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” If he’s having another one of those attacks, I’m going to feel like the biggest jackass in the entire world. Here I am, getting my rocks off so hard I passed out while Hayden’s struggling through a mental health episode.

“Is it the voice?” I ask, my heart sinking as he gives a few jerky nods. Guilt sits like a rock in my stomach, wiping away every last trace of pleasure still lingering in my system. I start second-guessing everything.

I shouldn’t have kissed Hayden at the tailor shop. I shouldn’t have kissed him when we got home. I shouldn’t have pushed him to have sex. I should’ve stopped when he couldn’t get it up. I shouldn’t have let him go down on me.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I clutch him to me, pressing kisses everywhere I can reach. Our sweat cools and I reach for the blanket to keep us warm.

My guilt morphs into anger at the unfairness of it all. Why does the darkness always seem to strike right when he’s feeling good? Like it wants to give him a taste of happiness before stealing it away again. What kind of sadistic shit is that?

Why is this happening to Hayden at all? He did nothing to deserve this. He was just living his happy life, spreading joy wherever he went. He’s a good person. Why did the depression pick him?

But then, there’s never any logic to this type of thing.

No matter how much evidence or proof there is, no matter how unreasonable the thoughts are, it’s hard to argue against feelings that intense.

The shit Mom used to say when she was at her worst made absolutely no sense.

Even now, sometimes she’ll get stuck in these loops where her fear overrides all common sense.

Like being afraid she’ll lose me forever…

I push the thought away. Hayden’s shaking. He tries to smother the sound of his crying, but a sob or a hiccup manages to get through every once in a while. He keeps muttering, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” but I don’t know what he could possibly be sorry for.

So I whisper back every encouraging thing I can think of. “You’re good, babe. You’re fine. There’s nothing to be sorry for. Everything’s going to be alright.”

Staring up at the ceiling, I hold Hayden until his breathing gradually evens out and he falls asleep. Carefully, so I don’t wake him, I ease myself out from under his lax weight.

My phone is in my shorts pocket, abandoned on the floor. I dig it out and tap a quick message to Sebastian.

Santino

Yo, where we at with the therapy appointment for Hayden?

Sebastian

I’m working on it. Why? Did something happen?

I mean, yeah, I had maybe the best orgasm of my life and then Hayden fell apart on me while we were both still naked and sweaty. That’s probably TMI.

Santino

Just the usual. I don’t know how much longer he’ll be able to go on like this.

Sebastian

I’ll follow up with the therapist’s office, but it might be a week or two.

A week or two? That’s too long. Who knows how much worse Hayden will get by then?

And there’s that constant niggle of worry at the back of my mind—what if he takes matters into his own hands?

I can’t say it out loud or even type it in a text message.

It makes it too real. But Sebastian doesn’t need me to spell it out.

Sebastian

Unless you think he’s going to hurt himself?

The other option is the emergency room and asking for a 72 hr hold.

My stomach drops as I realize what Sebastian’s saying.

Santino

You mean, like the psych ward? Like straitjackets and padded walls?

Sebastian

No straitjackets or padded walls. They just keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.

I shake my head even though Sebastian can’t see it.

Santino

No, we don’t need that. I can keep an eye on him. I won’t let him out of my sight for the next two weeks.

The three dots at the bottom of the screen bounce, then stop, then bounce again before Sebastian’s message comes through.

Sebastian

Your flight is next Wednesday.

My what? Oh. My flight back to San Francisco. Because, hey, I don’t actually live in New York. Because I was only supposed to be here temporarily.

I guess I forgot to tell Sebastian I’m not going back.

I don’t know if there’s room for me in The Camboy Network.

Or if Sebastian even likes me enough to offer me a place.

But it doesn’t matter. If I’m going to be unemployed, getting by on odd jobs, I can do that just as easily here as I can in San Francisco.

And New York has Hayden. San Francisco does not.

In the end, it’s not a hard decision at all.

Santino

Can you cancel the flight?

Sebastian

Cancel? Not reschedule?

No, just cancel it. I think I’ll stick around for a while longer.

A split second after Sebastian’s message comes through, my phone starts vibrating. A picture of Mom fills the screen and dread fills me. How am I going to tell her I’m moving to New York? How am I going to explain I’m already in New York?

My thumb hovers over the red Decline button to make her Future Santino’s problem. But is there any point in putting this off? I’ve already made my decision. Nothing she says will change it. Might as well get it over with now.

With a quick glance toward Hayden to make sure he’s still asleep, I swipe to accept the call with one hand and grab my discarded underwear with the other.

“Hello?” I say as I slip out of the room and close the door behind me. I hold the phone with my shoulder as I hop into my underwear.

“Tino, where are you?”

Uh… shit. Maybe I should’ve put her off until I came up with a good way to break the news to her. “Um, at a friend’s? Why?”

“Louisa’s in San Francisco today and I gave her some frozen meals to drop off for you. When will you be home?”

I scrunch my face together and stifle a groan. “Um, yeah, about that. I won’t be home today.”

“You’re not? Why not? Where are you?”

I take a deep breath as my stomach clenches with nervousness. Here goes nothing. “I’m in New York.”

The only sound that comes through the line is a commercial for toilet paper from the TV Mom always has on in the background. She’s silent for so long, I hope I didn’t, I don’t know, give her a stroke or something.

“Hello? Mom?”

“You’re where?” she asks and it’s not because she didn’t hear me the first time.

“New York,” I say, quieter this time, voice going up at the end like it’s a question.

“Why?” she demands.

“Um… for a job?” I slap a hand over my face and drop down on the couch.

“What kind of job?”

“Uh…” My mind blanks as I scramble for something plausible to say. Because I sure as hell can’t tell my mother I’m doing porn. “Remember my old roommate, Bellamy? He’s an actor and he’s working on this, uh, documentary. And they asked me to be in it.”

“Why would they ask you to be in it? You’re not an actor.”

She… has a good point. “Uh, well, it’s a documentary, right? So they wanted people who actually know Bellamy.” Which is totally and completely true.

Mom is silent for another second and I hold my breath. I feel like I’m waiting for the planet to explode.

“When are you coming home?”

I don’t bother covering up my groan this time. “Yeah, about that. I’m, um, not.”

“Not what?”

“I’m not coming home.” I really want to tell her about Hayden. About how wonderful he is. About the ways he reminds me of her. About how much I love him. But I’ve already dropped one bombshell on her on this call and I’m not sure she’ll survive two.

“Santino Antonio Baldoni, you get on a plane right this minute and come home. You hear me? Right now. On the next flight. I’m sending Dad to the airport and if you’re not there, so help me god, I will go to New York myself and drag you home.”

I hold my phone away from my ear as Mom shouts. Disappointment courses through me, though I don’t know why. I knew this was how she’d react. Hoping otherwise was always going to end in a letdown. She’ll never get it. She’ll never understand.

“When did you even go to New York? How long have you been there? Have you been lying to me the whole time? I cannot believe you. Of all the selfish, irresponsible, naive things to do. Why do you always have to take such unnecessary risks? Why can’t you just come home?”

My heart rate is shooting through the roof as my body starts to shake with anger. Why did she think I would lie to her? Because I knew she’d overreact! She’d get overprotective and jump to the worst-case scenario.

Her voice gets higher and louder the longer she keeps going. I can hear her getting worked up, her thoughts spinning around and around, amplifying and growing each time. A part of me feels bad—I hate causing her distress. But a bigger part of me wants to shout right back at her.

“Why are you always leaving me? Am I not a good mother? Do you not love me?”

My simmering anger completely boils over and I shoot to my feet. “Oh my god, Mom! Stop it! I’m not trying to leave you! I’m just trying to live my own life!”

“Why can’t you live your life here? You want to be an actor? Fine. Be an actor here!”

“Because!” I snap my mouth shut and squeeze my eyes closed, willing my temper to behave. Getting into a shouting match with her won’t make the situation any better. “Mom, please. Let me explain.”

“Explain what? What is there to explain? You’re leaving me. It’s as simple as that.”

“I’m not leaving you, Mom.” I swallow around the emotions suddenly lodged in my throat. Lots of anger still, but also frustration and sadness. “I’m just trying to do something meaningful with my life, something that makes me happy. Don’t you want that? Don’t you want me to be happy?”

“You need to be on the other side of the country to be happy?” she snaps.

“Yes! I do!”

“You’re not making any sense right now. I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” Her voice is wobbly, like she’s about to burst into tears. Guilt threads its way through my anger, but not enough to shake my resolve. I can’t live my life on my mom’s terms. I have to do what I need to do.

“I know you don’t understand. I don’t expect you to. I just…” I take a steadying breath and resign myself to this new reality with my mom. “I just wanted you to know. I’m staying in New York.”

“No. No, absolutely not. I let you move to San Francisco and that is far enough. I’m not letting you move out there. I forbid it.”

I’m pretty sure she’s crying now, but it doesn’t matter. She can forbid me all she wants, but she can’t stop me. I’m a grown man. I can do what I want. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“No. No. Just wait till I tell your father about this. He’ll be furious. You’ll see.”

“I’ve gotta go, Mom. I’ll talk to you later.”

“No! Don’t you hang up on me, Tino! I’m not done talking to you!”

“Goodbye, Mom.”

“This isn’t over! I?—”

Bracing myself, I end the call. Silence echoes loud in the living room. The only thing louder is the frantic beating of my heart. I never wanted to upset her. I never wanted things to spiral out of control like that. But what choice did I have?

“You’re not leaving?”

I spin around to find Hayden standing in the doorway. His hair is a mess and his eyes are still droopy from sleep. I want to drag him back to bed, lose myself in him, and forget that the rest of the world exists.

And then I realize, he’s just heard every word I said.