But sex didn’t work that way, and Dalton hit that tipping point where coming was more desirable than anything in the world—more than cotton candy or new shoes or the drag and glide of Tierney inside him—and he came in spite of himself, cum shooting onto the sheets like he was an air rifle and Tierney’s cock was the priming mechanism. He shouted, possibly surprising some neighbors, but he cared so little right then, because his skin had erupted in chills, and his insides had spontaneously combusted and it was all so consuming he barely registered Tierney’s moans and the way he dug his thumbs into Dalton’s butt cheeks and held him motionless, in just that perfect position.
Afterward, settling onto the bed with Tierney’s weight still securing him, Dalton had things to say, but he simply couldn’t start tonight. There was so much to talk about and work out, and for now he just wanted to lie here in Tierney’s arms and sleep, fully satisfied. So he didn’t say anything, other than, “That was so good.”
“So good,” Tierney agreed, kissing Dalton’s temple, then his cheek. He rolled over and worked his arm under Dalton’s head, and they both slipped into unconsciousness.
Waking up again later, in full daylight, Dalton found himself alone in the bed with the condo silent around him. He quashed the immediate flare of apprehension under his breastbone. He was just being insecure; Tierney was around somewhere. He could even smell coffee. Was the anxiety even remotely justified?
Yes. Because in the middle of the night Tierney had come as close as any man ever had to saying he loved Dalton, and that changed everything. Now the relationship had blown past the benefits barrier, which could create problems for Tierney.
If he really cared about Tierney, would it be better to end this now? Make the sacrifice of his own happiness, just like he had after he’d left his parents’ house? But that had been survival. This was different. This was soul-deep want.
Please, let me have this one thing. He didn’t know who he was beseeching, because he was on the fence about God, but wasn’t someone, somewhere keeping score? He’d lost his parents, and he’d wasted years with guys who didn’t care about him, but then he’d been good. Supported himself and finished school and taken responsibly for himself. Hadn’t he earned the chance at a real relationship with a man he was falling in love with?
He rolled onto his back and squeezed his eyes shut, covering his face with his hands and wishing with everything in him. Let us work out. Calling on any shooting stars he might have seen in his past and not taken full advantage of, any pennies he might have tossed into fountains and only halfheartedly thought about. He called in all those markers. Starting today, he’d haunt antique shops and rub likely-looking teapots and lamps, hunting for stray genies. If he’d believed in prayer, he might have done that too, but prayer had failed him too often in the past. So it had to be wishes or shirtless men in harem pants.
“—telling you, Sendecki’s fucking salivating to have us bid,” Tierney’s voice floated through the doorway, and then the man himself followed it, cell phone held to his ear. He smiled at Dalton before rolling his eyes at the voice on the other end of the line. “No, for fuck’s sake, don’t set up a tee time. We can meet with him for lunch or something. Jesus.”
He sounded so normal. So ordinary, like he was totally unaware Dalton had just freaked out after waking up alone. Duh, because he is. It made him self-conscious. The way he should be after overreacting and fighting off tears, then finding out everything was just fine.
“—I got this meeting with him because I’m gay, you dumbass. I never have to play golf again,” he was saying, smiling hugely. He must be talking to his brother.
Moving carefully, still not quite in sync with reality, Dalton sat up, scooting to the edge of the mattress and resting his feet on the floor.
“Listen, man, I have to go. I have better shit to do than talk to you all day.” Tierney’s tone was joking, even affectionate. “Yeah, see you soon.” Punching his brother really had cleared up years of animosity, hadn’t it? Suddenly, Tierney’s hand was on the back of Dalton’s neck, and he stood just in front of him. He hung up the phone as Dalton met his smiling eyes. “Morning.”
He tossed the cell on the bed and then urged Dalton to lie down again by looming over him until Dalton had to fall back or smash his face into Tierney’s chest. As Tierney brought his body to rest on top of him, Dalton found the back hem of Tierney’s T-shirt and slid his fingers inside, caressing naked skin and lifting his face so Tierney could kiss him.
Kissing stopped Dalton’s brain, and he began to feel more normal. Maybe still worried, but only in the back of his mind.
“I wish I could stay in bed with you today,” Tierney murmured, taking a break from their lazy make-out session.
“You have to be somewhere?” He wrapped his legs around Tierney’s thighs, as if he might not let him go.
Tierney’s lips grazed Dalton’s ear, tickling him. “I have to meet with my new therapist.”
That. The appointment to make up for the one he missed. Dalton swallowed as all his apprehension came rushing back. “Are you going to talk to her about us? Like, whether we—”
“It’s going to work out.” He pulled away enough to look into Dalton’s eyes, and his own were determined, almost forcibly so. “At Dunthorpe they recommended we didn’t start new relationships, but it’s not like it’s forbidden. Other people have to have done it successfully, right? I’ll talk to Dr. Palmer about coping strategies or whatever.”
Dalton traced the angles of Tierney’s lips with his finger, thinking, until Tierney pressed a kiss on the tip. “Is something wrong?” he asked, then lifted up onto his arms, jaw tightening. “I mean, if, you know, what you said last night didn’t mean what I thought it meant—”
“I want to have a real relationship with you. I want—” Dalton took a deep breath “—I want to be your boyfriend, not just your friend with benefits.”
“Good,” Tierney whispered, then kissed Dalton. “That’s what I want too.”
“Is that all right, though?” Dalton whispered back. “I mean, it’s been less than a month since rehab—”
“I’m not giving up on you because things might go sour. I’ve cheated myself out of this before, and I’m not doing it again.”