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The guy on the table was lean, verging on thin. He lay with his arms flung above his head, his body jolting with every thrust his partner made into him. He was dark-haired and attractive. His eyes were closed. He moaned but it sounded fake, which Holden was used to as a connoisseur of porn. He’d rarely seen a bottom who looked like they were enjoying it. Their limp cocks backed up his theory. Another reason why he felt guilty for watching gangbangs. Getting off on someone else’s misery.
This guy’s cock was hard though. Some of the guys standing around fondled it, slapped it. A guy stooped and sucked it. Another man, a massively built brunet, bent and whispered into the guy’s ear, which caused him to moan ever louder. “Fuck me,” he said. “Please, fuck me.”
The men cheered and the guy fucking him doubled his pace. He wasn’t wearing a condom, Holden could see. His gaze went once more to the face of the man on the table and he shook his head and told himself it couldn’t be. That it was just a terrible coincidence.
But no.
He knew he was looking at Finn.
???
Tyler
With a coffee, Tyler emptied the packet of stamps from Holden over the table once again. He shifted them around, sorting them into countries once more, as previously he had gathered them all back up into the packet without finishing his sorting. He remembered the ones he’d checked against the ones in his album, and the ones he hadn’t. Tyler didn’t have a huge collection, but the album was almost full. Some individual pages already were and he’d have to buy another one soon if he was going to carry on. Especially if Holden was going to give him stamps from his collection as he’d suggested. Although maybe that idea was dead in the water now after he’d thrown him out last night. He sighed and focused on the stamps. Tyler stuck his stamps in an album using hinges because it was a cheaper method, even though it was time consuming and devalued the stamps. Buying a stockbook where one could slot the stamp quickly behind glassine leaves was way more expensive and took up more space. If he extended his collection, he’d end up needing a stockbook for each country he collected, which couldn’t be done, financially and practically. And the way he was feeling now, he wanted to dive right back into the hobby in a serious way, thanks to Holden rekindling his desire. He had no money, but you could buy a hundred stamps for a couple of bucks. It wasn’t like he was going to start running around buying Penny Blacks. Chance would be a fine thing. Taking up the hobby again would be a form of that mindfulness the therapists were so keen on him exploring. It would be a way to disappear from the world for hours at a time and forget everything.
He saw the red Newfoundland stamp peeking out from behind a few others. He couldn’t hinge that one. It was mint, never used and worth something, even if that was maybe only a few bucks. He needed to put it in a mount to protect it. Maybe he could buy a cheap stockbook from eBay and put just his mint stamps in there, if he got any more. That was an idea.
Another sigh escaped him as he held the red Newfoundland stamp in his tweezers. He’d hurt Holden yesterday. The guy was obviously hoping for a little encouragement, for Tyler to say he liked him and maybe they could take it further. Why hadn’t he? Just to ease Holden’s obvious suffering and mental distress over his addiction and inability to conquer it. Instead, he’d made it sound like Holden was some cheap screw whom he could take or leave, when that wasn’t the case at all. Far from it. He was way more invested in Holden than maybe he should have been. And there was the rub, because he doubted Holden’s ability to feel more for a sexual partner than arousal. Wasn’t Tyler just another cock to him? There could be no mistaking that was what Holden wanted from a man. For him to get fucked as hard and as long and as often as he could.
There couldn’t be more from his side, could there? Not with his addiction. So if Tyler ending up feeling something for him, it could be him getting badly hurt, not Holden. Did he feel something for Holden? Did he want this to go somewhere? His disappointment when he’d been sent home last night told him yes, but he didn’t think Holden could ever be the one for him, not with the age gap, Tyler’s mental issues and disability, and Holden’s addiction. They were too different, even if they were both damaged and suffering. Or were they?
He placed the stamp back on the table. The album wasn’t old enough to have a separate section for Newfoundland so his others were mounted under Canada. Perhaps he should get a separate stockbook for them, seeing as they were his favorites, and seeing as some of them were worth something as well. He’d checked their values when he’d started collecting Newfoundland stamps and they had been worth a few bucks each at the time. Better than nothing. Maybe the red dog stamp would be worth more now if he checked again. He wondered how much Holden had paid for them. At first glance, he’d presumed they were a three to five dollar mixed bag—pretty, but worthless—but would someone have made the mistake of putting the red dog in it? He doubted it. So maybe some of the others were worth something too. There were numerous old ones, even a used Queen Victoria Penny Red, although he already had a couple of those in his collection that were sadly only worth a few dollars. Many millions of them had been printed. If you wanted one of those with the big bucks, you had to get a Plate 77 one. He glanced along the side to identify the plate number in the scroll design. Plate 216.
He picked up his phone and googled Penny Red plate numbers. It was worth 29 dollars. It looked like Holden hadn’t paid a couple of bucks for this bag at all. He switched to
Newfoundland stamps at Stampworld.com and found the dog. It was worth about sixty-five dollars. Considerably less than some others, but possibly more than the ones in his collection. Not bad at all. Perhaps he’d go through them now and see if they’d appreciated in value. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do.
A knock came at the door. Seeing as he knew barely anyone in town, he could hazard a guess who it was. A little flutter went through his stomach as he stood and made his way down the hall to the front door.
But when he swung open the door, he found Finn, looking pale and anxious, shifting from one foot to another and twisting his hands together.
Tyler smiled at him. “Hey.”
“Hey, how you doing?”
“I’m okay. Come in.”
“Thanks.”
Finn stepped inside and wiped his feet on the mat before closing the door. He followed Tyler down the hall to the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?”
“Sure. Hey, what are these?” Finn peered over the scattered stamps and the album on the table with fascination.
Tyler smiled wryly, waiting for the jokes about being a nerd with no life who never got laid. At least, that was what they’d said at school, even though he got laid plenty, and that was what they would have said in the army too, which was why he hadn’t told anybody. “What does it look like?”
Finn smiled. “Did I find out your secret hobby?”
“Looks like it.” Tyler poured some coffee into a mug and set it on the counter.
Finn didn’t look up. “These are amazing.” He picked up the tweezers to Tyler’s astonishment. “May I?”
“Uh, sure.” Fucking hell, Finn was full of surprises.
“Some old ones here. Wow, I know nothing about stamps, but isn’t that Queen Victoria? A penny red?”
Tyler smiled. He knew he’d made the right choice in having Finn as a friend. “Yeah.”
“So this piece of paper is over a hundred years old?”
