Connor didn’t say anything for a long while. He continued to rub and dig into the knots along Forest’s calves, then shifted up to reach the ache in Forest’s thighs. Finally he said, “What do you want to do? And whatever that is, I’ll stand by you in it. You just need to tell me what you want.”
Sitting in the quiet comfort of a peace Forest never thought he’d ever experience, he whispered, “Would it be bad if I just wanted her to go away?”
“No,” Connor replied softly. “No one would blame you for that.”
“I feel like I’m—dirty.” Forest leaned forward and put his hands on Connor’s, stilling them. “What I did with her—what she—shit, just everything—like I can’t ever get clean. And then, it’s like you’re here, and I’m thinking—shit, I don’t want to get this on you.
“I feel like every time you touch me, I smear it on you—this stinky, oily me I can’t ever wash off. You’re so fucking good, Con. Sometimes it hurts to touch you, because it’s like I’m holding onto the sun. And I hate feeling like that—hating myself because I’m scared to touch you—scared to—love you. And I hate her for it. I really just—”
He had to look away. In all the time since he began living with Frank, he’d ignored the whispering of disgust coming from the back of his mind. But being with Connor changed things, and the walls he’d built to hold back the grime broke, flooding his awareness with just how deeply he’d bathed in the gutter’s filth.
“A ghra.” Connor sighed. Then his hands came up to cup Forest’s face. The strong sting of balm on his jaw made his eyes water, but Forest didn’t mind. Not when the cupping was accompanied by a slow, lingering kiss turned to a deeper ache when Connor growled at the stretch of their tangled bodies. “Shit, that stuff burns.”
Connor dropped his hands to Forest’s shoulders, kneading them lightly. He stole another kiss, this time a delicate whisper of lips and their breaths, scented berry and citrus, drifting together in a swirling warm current.
“I look at you, and all I think is—God, thank you for his strength,” Connor murmured into their kiss. “I can’t imagine how you put one foot in front of the other every single day of your life. That woman—the one whose only thought should have been for you—she may have given birth to you in that filth, but that’s a stew of her own making. You were the one to walk out of it—that foul, depraved mire she wallows in. It’s her soul that’s wrong—so fucked up she’s happy in that kind of life—but you, a ghra, you survived her trying to drown you in it.
“Then you picked yourself up and fought her when she tried to drag you back into it.” He paused, stopping long enough to curl Forest’s toes with a sensual, fierce kiss, then continued. “I’d be happy to have any of your power, any of that strength, smeared on me. Touching you—is incredible, but loving you, Forest mine, makes me feel invincible.”
CONNOR SCRUBBED his hands before locking the house up for the night. Swaddled in the sheets, Forest sniffed at Con’s fingers and eyed him suspiciously.
“I can still smell it,” he grumbled.
“Then I guess you’re going to have to be the one to spread lube over yourself,” Con replied smoothly. His cock liked the idea, because it steeled itself immediately, tightening up his already hard length. Tossing the lube toward Forest, he chuckled, “Actually, I really like that idea, but can you bend that much? ’Cause if not….”
“Oh, I’ll bend,” Forest muttered. “Help me find the damned tube.”
They had a Benny Hill chase with the lube, especially since Connor decided he’d spend more time with his hands on Forest’s hard abdomen and ass than locating the small plastic vial. While swearing at Con’s interference, Forest burst into laughter when Connor half rolled him over under the pretense of looking for the lubricant. Instead, he bent down and sank his teeth into the meat of Forest’s ass, getting a playful yelp from his lover.
Connor let Forest roll back over. He straddled the lanky drummer, then placed his hands on either side of Forest’s shoulders, resting his weight on his palms and knees.
“God, it is good to hear you laugh,” he said.
It was good. He’d never really thought about how little he’d heard laughter in Forest’s voice until a few days before when the blond chuckled while they watched a movie, and his smile shyly stretched over his face.
Connor felt like he’d taken a shot of whiskey when he saw that smile—or maybe even swallowed a mouthful of sunshine. Either way, he’d sworn there and then to keep Forest laughing, every day and for as often as he could, selfishly wanting to bask in that warm glow.
“Shit, I hope I can do this.” Forest slathered lube onto his fingers. He pushed Connor’s hand away before he could help.
“Hey, I scrubbed them!” Connor protested lightly.
“Yeah, like I’d gotten all of the rooster sauce out from under my fingernails before I got that eyelash out of your eye.”