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Theo tried to smile, but he couldn’t find one, and after a moment, Tean’s smile faded too.
“Goodnight,” Tean said quietly.
Theo nodded and went into their bedroom. The water was running in the shower, and when he stepped into the bathroom, Auggie was naked. He leaned over the sink, his back to Theo, every line of his body defined with muscle. Theo stepped up behind him. The garbage bag rustled in his hand.
“Are you mad at me?” Theo asked.
Maybe it was his breath on Auggie’s skin. Maybe it was proximity, that was all, the way one body senses another. Goose bumps spread across Auggie’s back. Then he shivered. The word was almost not a word when he said, “Yes.”
Theo leaned in and kissed the back of his neck, and Auggie shivered again.
“I’m sorry,” Theo whispered.
The next words were thick: “I know.”
“I’m scared.”
Auggie made a noise, and Theo realized he was crying, but somehow he said again, “I know.”
Theo let the garbage bag fall. He slid an arm around Auggie’s waist and hugged Auggie against him. Theo was surprised to find himself hard when Auggie’s ass bumped against him, and he was even more surprised, in that distant corner of his brain, that he could be hard and not know it, that his own body could be a surprise to him. He slid a hand down, over the hint of stubble since Auggie had last groomed down there, and Auggie was hardening too.
“We could have gotten killed,” Auggie whispered. “Lana could have gotten hurt.” His voice broke.
Theo shushed him. He nuzzled Auggie’s neck, and Auggie whimpered. He was fully hard now—young and healthy, his body trained and toned. Theo scraped his beard over Auggie’s neck because he wanted him to make those noises again. Auggie was shivering, still crying, and Theo tightened his hand so that Auggie couldn’t thrust or hump.
“You were such an asshole,” Auggie said through the tears.
“I’m sorry.”
Auggie shook his head. Tears fell, and some of them hit Theo’s arm, hot as embers.
“You were so good tonight,” Theo whispered, and then he mouthed at Auggie’s neck. “You were so good. So smart. So strong. So brave. You fought off that son of a bitch. You ripped his fucking ear off.”
He could feel it, the way Auggie’s body responded to the words, the way his muscles softened. In the mirror, Auggie looked the way they used to paint saints: eyes half closed in ecstasy, lips parted, face alight. Even the tear tracks only made him more beautiful. But he whispered, “Just a lobe.”
Theo chuckled. He kissed Auggie’s ear, and Auggie tried to buck then. Theo held him tighter. “You were so good with Lana. So good. You’re perfect, did you know that? And I love you so much.”
Auggie’s breathing was ragged. He rolled his head to one side, and Theo kissed him again. When Theo started to move his hand, Auggie squeezed his eyes shut. It didn’t take long—he moaned as the orgasm hit him, and the tension in his jaw showed his effort to remain quiet. Then he sagged against Theo, his breath hitching like he might start crying again.
He didn’t, though, and after a few long moments, he opened his eyes and found Theo in the mirror. “Your turn.”
Theo kissed the side of his head. “Not tonight.”
Auggie looked like he might protest, but he didn’t. He turned around and pressed his lips to Theo’s. When he pulled back, he brushed his fingers through Theo’s hair and looked into his eyes.
“Let’s get this arm covered,” Theo finally said. “And you can clean up.”
While Auggie showered, Theo wiped down the counter. He went back into the bedroom and stripped off his tee. In the dark, under a thin sheet, he listened to the water shut off, and the everyday sounds of Auggie moving around the bathroom, conducting his nightly routine. Then the bathroom light switched off too, and the soft sounds of Auggie’s steps came through the darkness. The bed dipped, and then Auggie was there—warm from the shower, smelling clean, with a hint of sandalwood.
Theo was asleep before Auggie had finished lying down.
He didn’t dream, not at first—or if he did, the dreams were in those dark-down places, and they didn’t reach his conscious mind. But then he was dreaming, and the dream was of fire: a forest ablaze, and Theo running as the flames chased him. His skin crackled in the heat. Smoke filled his throat. The fire was even a noise: the vast, rushing breath of air being drawn in, so loud it swallowed everything else.
He sat up. Sweat soaked the sheet; his legs were roasting, but now, in that groggy state between sleep and waking, his chest and arms were freezing as cool air brushed damp skin. For another moment, he could hear the fire, the roar of it. And then his brain clicked on, and he saw the fan, which Auggie liked for a little white noise. He tried to take deep breaths, but his chest rose and fell unevenly, and he could hear the edge at the end of every sound, the whine that was almost a sob.
A hand at the small of his back made him flinch. Then Auggie began to rub slowly.
Theo found his leg in the dark and patted it. He managed a cracked whisper: “Sorry.”
