AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yeah.”
“Ben.”
“Come for me, baby.”
And he does. With his head thrown back and mouth open in a silent scream, the tendons in his neck stretched taut, and that hair spread out behind him, he’s a vision, a debauched angel. His ass clamps down on my cock, and I rock into him once, twice, then fall over the edge into my own oblivion. It’s glorious and amazing. I almost forget how to breathe and fear my heart has stopped as I spill into the condom.
When I come back to my senses, Dillon is tracing lazy circles on my back. I’ve collapsed on top of him, my face jammed into the crook of his neck. I snuffle against his warm skin and then roll over to remove the condom.
“You okay?” I ask as I gather Dillon into my arms. He’s pliant, languid, molding himself to the outline of my body.
“I’m fine.” He tips his head back, asking for a kiss, and I give it to him. “Do you think, maybe, I could…” He hesitates, swallows. “Could I, you know, go down on you again?”
I laugh. “Now? Thanks for the compliment, but I don’t think I can get it up a third time today, Dill.”
“What are you? Ninety?”
“No, but we don’t have to do everything in one day, you know. We’ve got time.”
“But…”
“We’ve got time,” I say, my tone firm. “Right now, I want some sleep. Then we’ll get some dinner, and we’ll talk.”
Dillon huffs, but he settles next to me.
“I love you, Ben,” he says as I drift off. I try to say it back, but I’m not sure if I get the words out before I’m asleep.
* * * * *
The sound of something crashing to the ground wakes me. Dillon’s gone from the bed, but from what I can hear, he’s blundering around my living room.
I’m out of bed in a flash, running naked down the hall and skidding to a stop at the sight of my trashed living room. Even standing in the doorway, still half-asleep and confused, I know he’s on something. I feel ten shades of stupid for not thinking he would have a stash of drugs in that car of his, for not talking to him about what I’ve seen on social media, for thinking we could have a future together. That last thought spears me through the heart, almost brings me to my knees, but Dillon’s in front of me beating the shit out of my couch with my fireplace irons. I’ll flagellate myself up later, right now, he needs me.
Calling his name doesn’t get his attention, so I take a chance and get close to him. He pushes me away, but I’ve got more mass than him and only take a step back before I’m trying to get my arms around him.
“Come on, baby, let me hold you,” I say. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m done,” he says, and my heart drops. “I’m so fucking done with them. I want out.”
I take the sofa cushion from his hand, relieved when he lets me. “Done with who?”
“Roger, the label, the band. S’all shit. Always been shit.”
This time, when I try to get my arms around him, he lets me, and he lets me pull him down onto the ruined couch. He curls into my lap like a little boy, and I tuck his head under my chin as I survey the damage he’s caused.
“Tell me what’s going on,” I say, taking in the toppled bookcase, the smashed glass and frames of the artwork, but it’s the sight of that piece of old vine, the one the dog dragged back here, that breaks my heart all over again. Dillon has thrown it against the wall, and it lies in tiny pieces scattered across my floor. It’s not that that part of the vine was ever going to bear fruit again, but what it symbolizes, what it put in motion, what it meant for the future, my future, and, I thought, Dillon’s.
“Tell me, baby, please.”
He tells me he got a call from his mom. She was hysterical, crying, thinking he was dead, and asking where he was. As soon as he told her, Roger, his manager, got on the phone and said he was coming to get Dillon.
He tucks further against me and starts to tremble. I wrap my arms around him as if I can protect him from everything that is wrong in his world, but I know I can’t.
“What’d you take?” I ask gently, and Dillon shrugs. “You don’t know?” He shrugs again, not moving from my embrace.
“I never know,” he whispers. “There’s so much shit, I don’t ask.”
I want to shake him, want to ask him why he’s doing this to himself, to me. Did he mean it when he said he loved me? A surge of anger makes me disentangle myself from him, get up from the couch. I get the broom and start sweeping up the shattered bits of that old vine. It’s suddenly the most important thing I have to do because it feels like it’s my heart he broke to pieces on this floor. I can’t look at Dillon. I can’t comfort him. I can’t be what he needs right now.
