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Chapter15
Bodhi loved his brother.Really. Even when he hated him a little, he still loved him. But while he sat on the couch and waited for Wren to arrive, he was on the verge of grabbing him by the back of his shirt and shoving him out the door.
The afternoon had been a whole mess, and he was still processing, but he was clear about one thing: he wanted Caleb. He wanted to touch and be touched. He wanted to kiss him with tongue. He wanted Caleb’s hand down his pants, holding his erection, stroking him until he came.
Then he wanted to curl up around him and sleep, and make sure that the next morning was the perfect version of what should have happened before all the drama hit.
After his first nap of the day, Bodhi had woken to Caleb gently stirring him, letting him know he had to go into the café to finish up some paperwork. Bodhi agreed to stay and wait for Ravi, and when his brother got back, the truth just poured from his fingers.
It was obvious Ravi didn’t know what to say, though part of that might have been from both the pain he was in, and the mild drugs the doctor had prescribed for him. But Bodhi struggled to get a read on his brother for the entire afternoon, and by the time Caleb had come home, Bodhi wasn’t any closer to figuring out how Ravi felt.
He wanted to warn Caleb that Ravi might say or do something offensive, but he wasn’t quite sure how to bring that up either, and frankly, he didn’t want to kill the quiet, soft mood between them. Bringing it up would mean talking it out. And talking it out would mean a delay in whatever Caleb was willing to do with him.
And that might lead to Caleb changing his mind out of panic that he was—misguidedly—protecting Bodhi from himself.
Bodhi was not in the head space to remind Caleb that he was willingly signing up for something a bit complicated. Bodhi wasn’t afraid of difficult situations, no matter what people assumed about him. Especially when those difficult situations meant he got to be with the literal man of his dreams.
He didn’t relax until after Ravi’s shower. It was when Ravi told Caleb about his sexuality that Bodhi finally breathed a little easier, because Ravi didn’t tell anyone about that. It had taken him years to confess to Bodhi, and that was through shaking hands and the confession that he thought something was wrong with him.
Bodhi still said a prayer that they wouldn’t have to talk details about anything, and whatever god was listening seemed happy to grant it, because they settled into an easy silence between all three of them until Wren showed up, fussed for a while, then whisked Ravi off into his car.
And then Caleb and Bodhi were alone.
The tension was palpable. Tangible. Bodhi wondered if he’d be able to feel it against the pads of his fingers if he brushed them through the space that sat between him and Caleb.
Instead, he laid his hands against his thigh and let his fingers stim nervous patterns against his sweats. He watched as Caleb’s eyes tracked the motions and felt a little pop of anxiety when Caleb’s hands lifted, staying low where Bodhi could see them.
“What does it feel like?”
Bodhi frowned. “Feel like?” he repeated.
“Stimming.” Caleb spelled the word since as far as Bodhi knew, there was no official sign for it. Ravi’s home-sign was just a mimic of Bodhi’s favorite finger stim and usually it didn’t feel like mockery. But every now and again, it did.
Bodhi shrugged. “I don’t usually notice I’m doing it. I only notice when I have to stop.”
He braced himself for Caleb to ask him to explain more, which frustrated him because it wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want to talk about his damn brain, or his hands—unless it was Caleb asking Bodhi to touch him. He didn’t want to talk about all the ways he was different, and how it felt tobedifferent, and all that other shit people decided they were entitled to know.
In truth, he wanted to scream. He wanted to ask how the fuck he was supposed to know when it wasn’t different to him. What did stimming feel like? It felt like breathing. It felt like blinking. It felt like all the things a body justdid.
Stopping felt like holding his breath. Sometimes, on his worst days, it even felt like if he couldn’t go on, it was like he was going to suffocate.
“Sorry.”
Bodhi looked up into Caleb’s face, studying his expression. He was sorry? What the hell for? What the—
He didn’t get a chance to finish the thought. Caleb pressed one hand to the side of Bodhi’s neck and urged him to shift closer. Bodhi wanted to climb into Caleb’s lap, but he didn’t think that move would be appreciated so he held himself back.
And then Caleb laughed. “What do you want?” Caleb asked him before Bodhi could get offended.
He licked his lips, then gestured at Caleb’s legs.
“My dick?”
Bodhi’s face erupted into white-hot flames, and he shook his head, then stopped, then nodded. “Yes, I want your dick. But I meant your legs.” He felt a surge of frustration because his vocabulary was limited to classroom education and his stunted social life. “Lap,” he spelled.
Caleb’s face went soft. His whole body went soft, in fact. He grabbed Bodhi’s hips with loose fingers and urged him to swing his leg over his thighs until he was straddling Caleb. It felt slightly awkward since Bodhi was so tall, but he also felt like he belonged there.
Bodhi was hard again, though he didn’t feel a pressing need to do anything about it except rock against Caleb’s groin. God, it felt so fucking good.
