Chapter Eight – Aston
You’re worth nothing. You’re no better than your whore of a mother.
Her body against mine. Hand on hand. Skin on skin.
You think anyone will ever want you, you brat? They won’t.
The softness of her hand against mine.
You are nothing.
The gentle aroma of vanilla that’s settling on her hair.
No one will want you. Megan. You’re no better than her. I’m not there. Little rat. I’m here. With Megan.
Megan.
The warmth of her body against my back grounds me, holding me in the now when all my mind wants to do is give in and go back. Give in and go back to the time of my life I don’t want anyone exposed to. The time I don’t want Megan exposed to.
I know I need to leave. Now. I need to push her window open and climb down that f*cking tree.
Instead, I turn, holding her to me.
My hands splay across her back, my fingertips digging into her skin, and she wraps her arms around my waist. Her face presses into my neck and she brushes her lips across my collarbone, a feather light touch. My grip tightens on her and I push my face into her hair again, the ends tickling my nose. I shake my head slightly, holding her ever tighter.
Sex. Sex doesn’t hurt – it can’t hurt anyone. It’s all you’ll be good for. My fall back and way of coping. Just like her. The thing that keeps the demons at bay and stops them clawing at the corners of my mind.
This weekend, thirteen years since Mom died, the demons are stronger than ever. The memories of that weekend flood my mind and there isn’t anything I can do to stop them.
Except hold Megan.
I have no idea what it is about her, but I know that I need her. And I know that for all my forgetting over the years, she makes me remember. For that, I should push her away. I should run away screaming.
But the pain from remembering is nothing compared to the softness of her touch when she takes that pain away.
And that’s why I won’t use her, not the way I’ve become so accustomed to.
I breathe in deeply and turn my face towards Megan’s, nuzzling the side of her head with my nose. “Lila will be at the house tonight?”
She nods against me. “Always on a weekend.” Her hands rub along my back in a soothing motion, slipping under my shirt, her hands like silk against my skin. Her fingers probe gently, coaxing my clenched muscles into relaxation.
“I want to stay,” I whisper. “Let me stay.”
She pulls back, taking one hand from my back and running it around my body. It climbs up my stomach and chest, finally resting against the side of my face. I open my eyes to meet her wide blue ones, the soft safety of them drawing me in.
“Of course,” she replies quietly. “Whatever you need.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I just need you to hold me.”
Megan reaches up on tiptoes and kisses me softly. “All night?”
I can’t miss the wariness of her tone, two simple words riddled with uncertainty.
“All night.”
~
A body is draped over me. An arm across my stomach, a soft thigh between mine, hair spread out across my chest. Hair that smells like vanilla.
Megan.
That also explains the raging hard on I have inside my boxers.
I shift slightly, moving her leg away from my dick, trying not to focus on the sleek curves beneath my moving fingers. I run my lips across her forehead, and she sniffs, moving closer to me. Her body rubs against mine, and I throb, my hips involuntarily pushing into her.
There’s only one way to get rid of this.
My hand travels up her back and I sink it into her hair, running my fingers through right to the ends. Her mouth slowly curves upwards into a smile, and she slowly opens her eyes.
“Good morning,” she mumbles, focusing on me.
“Depends which brain you’re asking,” I reply, tilting her head backwards and taking her mouth with mine. Her hand presses into my back, and she slips her thigh upwards so it rubs the underside of my cock.
“Maybe we need to get both brains in agreement?” she suggests, exhaling.
She moves her thigh from between my legs and hooks it over my hip, moving with it until she’s sitting on top of me. She rubs against my dick, bending forward and kissing me hard.
I run my hands down her body and slide them inside her small shorts, cupping her ass. Her hands slide into my hair, her body rubs against mine, and I press my hips into her. I slide my tongue along the seam of her mouth, wetting her lips, and slip it inside her mouth. It runs along the length of hers, teasing her, each movement accompanied by a flex of my fingers.
My hands slip under her, the tips of my fingers brushing against her wetness. She draws a breath in, grinding her hips downwards. I adjust us in the small bed so she’s under me and look down at her flushed cheeks and parted lips. Her hot eyes gaze up at me, wanting more.
I’m more than f*cking happy to oblige.
I slip her top up her body and unclip her bra, throwing both on the floor, and lower my mouth to her breasts. I take one in my mouth, and her back arches as I tease my tongue across her hardened nipple, rubbing my thumb across the other. She runs her feet along my legs, her thighs fighting her to wrap around my waist, and I turn my attention to her other nipple. I give it the same treatment, teasing as she gasps.
Her hand moves between us and finds its way to my boxers. She slips it inside, wrapping her gentle fingers around me and caressing me lightly. I push into her hand and run my tongue across her nipple firmly but slowly, making her wriggle. I kiss up to her neck, dropping open mouth kisses against her. Her hand strokes the length of my dick, squeezing and twisting. Her thumb rubs across my tip, swirling around it in a quick motion. I push even further into her hand, growl, and hook my fingers inside her shorts.
I sit up, pulling my dick from her grip, and rest her ankles on my shoulders. Her shorts slide down her legs easily, followed by a red lacy scrap of material I can’t even f*cking comprehend right now.
Her legs lower and I move my hands up her body, one resting over her. I slide my finger inside her body as I slide my tongue into her mouth, and her hips buck. Another finger follows, drowning in the slickness of her. I press my thumb against her * and flick it slightly. She cries out, her legs muscles tightening, and I give in.
Megan feels it because she reaches into the drawer next to the bed and pulls out a condom. I push my boxers down, put it on, and rest my dick against her opening. Her fingers grip my shoulders, and I ease into her, hissing out a breath. Her body clamps down on me so hard in every place we’re touching it’s like we’re one person. I cover her lips with my own as I pump into her, for the first time needing the release she can give me.
Just Megan.
Our skin slips against each other’s, our breath mingles, and I can only focus on the building up of pleasure in both of our bodies. For the first time, it’s more than sex. It’s more than me.
It’s us.
I want to watch her give herself over to me. I want to watch her body arch and feel her muscles tighten as she lets go. I want to see the sparkle in her eye, hear the cry leave her body, feel her nails in my back.
I want to feel that she’s completely mine, for just one second.
Her body undulates beneath mine, her face pushing into my neck. She breathes heavily, her mouth against me, and I feel it right through my body as her teeth graze my skin when her whole body tightens. Her muscles hold my throbbing cock in an iron grip, taking me into her deeper until there’s nothing left to give.
Megan’s head drops back and her body shakes slightly, giving over to me. I steal a kiss as I empty inside her, feeling the moment.
In this moment she is mine. She might not be tomorrow, next week, next month, but right now… She’s f*cking mine.
I move to pull out of her but she shakes her head, pulling me closer to her. I let my hands tuck under her back and hold her to me, the heat from her body and pounding of her heart everything I know, everything I feel.
And I let myself hold her, wondering if there’s a chance she’ll ever know the peace she brings me.
~
Megan eyes me speculatively. “I have a question.”
“It’s never good when you have a question.” I grin.
“It’s not that bad!”
“Oh, yeah? Like that time in English when you promised it wasn’t a big question and kept the prof talking for half the class?”
She shrugs a shoulder, smiling a little. “Hey, it made for an easy class!”
I lean forward, putting my face to hers. “And a f*ck off essay after.”
“Um, yeah.” She smiles cutely, wrinkling her nose. “Anyway…”
“Go on, then.” I hope to shit she doesn’t ask-
“Yesterday, when I asked which turtle you were.” Shit. “You… You seemed to go somewhere else. Like… You had no idea what I was talking about.”
I sit back, words and excuses swirling in my mind. “I was home-schooled,” I answer tentatively. “My Gramps taught me.”
“Your Gramps? Why not your mom? Or dad?”
“I can’t…” I get up. “I can’t have this conversation today, Megs. Any day but today.”
“He’s in here somewhere.”
I had moved further into the corner of my bedroom, hugging my blanket tighter. Mommy still wasn’t home. I was still waiting, and now some funny lady was in my house talking about “he.” Was she here for me?
No. I didn’t want to leave Mommy. They always said it would happen, the big men. They always said that one day they would take me from my mommy.
I covered my face with my face so they couldn’t hear me breathing and slipped under my bed. I moved back to the darkest corner, shaking and trying not to cry.
I don’t want to leave my mommy. I don’t want them to take me away.
My bedroom door opened, and I shook harder. No. Don’t let them find me. Please. The light flicked on, and I could hear their footsteps across my bare wooden floor. I could see the shadows as they walked further.
“Have you checked under the bed?” One woman asked.
“No. I’ll do that.”
Nonononono. Don’t find me. Please don’t find me.
A kind face appeared and morphed into a gentle, coaxing smile. The woman held out her hand. “Come on now, honey. Let’s get you out of here.”
I shook my head, shrinking back further. “I want Mommy,” I whispered.
“I don’t have her, sweetheart, but I can help you. You’re shaking, are you cold?”
I nodded.
“I have a nice thick blanket here for you. And some cookies – you like cookies?”
“Cookies?” I frowned.
“Yes. They’re really yummy and these ones have chocolate chips in it. Would you like to try one?”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but I was hungry. I scooted forwards a little bit. “A cookie?”
“Yes. Come out from under your bed, we’ll get you warm and you can have a cookie. Okay, Aston?”
“You know my name?” I bit my lip, my eyes wide, and moved back a little.
“Yes, I’m here to help you. I won’t hurt you, I promise. We can be friends, yeah, buddy?” she asked softly.
She wasn’t a man. She didn’t look horrible. I couldn’t see any pictures on her skin and she didn’t smell like the men.
I shuffled across the floor and out from under the bed. Another woman was standing there and I flinched away as she moved closer.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m giving you this blanket to keep you warm.” She smiled encouragingly, and I took the blanket, not wanting her to touch me.
The other woman bent down and looked me in the eye. I clutched Bunny tighter to me.
“How about that cookie?”
I nodded, climbing onto my bed. She reached into her purse and pulled out a red shiny packet. She opened the packet and pulled out a round, light brown circle with dark spots on. I took it from her tentatively, still scared of her. My eyes were flicking between the two women who were in front of me, being nicer to me than anyone ever had before.
“Try it,” the first woman coaxed. “Just a little bite?”
I brought it to my mouth and nibbled at a dark spot. The sweet flavor exploded in my mouth and I gasped, biting into the cookie. My stomach rumbled as the crumbs flooded my mouth. I’d never tasted anything like it. It was the best thing ever.
“My God,” the second woman breathed. “The neighbors were right. The system has failed this kid. He’s never even eaten a cookie at six years old.”
The first woman looked at me. “Is this the first time you’ve had a cookie, Aston?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I like it. It’s yummy.”
“How about another one?”
I nodded, staring into the face of the woman who was my childhood savior.
“Just, not today.” I repeat, breathing deeply as I let the memory go. Thirteen years, and the main marker I have of this day is the first cookie I ever ate. “I need to go. I have to go see my Gramps.”
Megan looks at me worriedly, sadness in her eyes, and I cross the room to her. I cup her face in my hands, rest my forehead against hers, and exhale.
“It’s not you, Megs. There’s a lot about me you don’t know – a lot I don’t want you to know. It’s not nice stuff, it’s not good, okay? Today isn’t a day to talk about it. Maybe there won’t ever be a day. I don’t know.”
“I want to know,” she whispers, resting her hands on my arms.
“I don’t want you to know.” I kiss her and quickly move away. I push open her window, make sure it’s clear, and jump out onto the tree branch. I glance over my shoulder, and she’s watching me go. I make eye contact with her for a second and turn away, jumping down from the tree, set on seeing Gramps.
~
“Didn’t think I’d see you today.” Gramps’ voice grumbles through the house.
“It’s Sunday,” I reply simply, crossing the front room and sinking into my usual seat opposite him.
“Ain’t just any Sunday.” He twists his lit cigar between his weathered fingers, staring at the smoke rising from it.
“Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna see you.” I watch the twirling of the smoke.
“Thought you didn’t wanna know today.”
“I don’t, but I’m still gonna come see you. You need me.”
“I need to look at your face and know you look exactly like her?” He puffs on his cigar, the end of it glowing bright orange. “You do, you know. You look exactly like her.”
“I…” I drag my eyes to his and see the pain there. “I know.”
“You’re smart, too. Just like she was. I could tell that when I started teachin’ ya. Picked up your numbers like Einstein. Of course, she was good with numbers in a different way.”
The numbers of the street.
“I hate that so much of me reminds you of her.”
“Why? ‘Cause you hate the memories? Your memories and mine, they’re different, boy. If you’d let me share mine you’d see a different side to your mom than the one you know. You’d see that she ain’t all bad. She just jumped on the wrong train and couldn’t get back off.”
“And that’s what she turned our life into. A damn train wreck. Everything…”
“And today is a day to remember it, however you want to.”
“You think I don’t, Gramps? You think I’m not haunted by the memories of the past every day? You think I don’t remember? I don’t want to remember it. Not at all. But I do.”
“It’s good to remember,” he pushes on, twisting his cigar in the ashtray. “You gotta remember where you’ve been to see how far you’ve come.”