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“What do you want to do tonight?”
Evan looked up from the book he was reading and smiled at Jeremy over the back of the couch. “I want to read for a little bit, but after that, maybe watch some more Queer as Folk?”
Jeremy snorted. “You just have a crush on Brian.”
Shrugging, Evan’s cheeks turned pink. “Do you blame me? He’s a hot older guy who’s a total flirt. What can I say? I do have a type.”
Jeremy threw his head back and laughed. “True. Okay, fine. Queer as Folk it is.”
Evan absentmindedly shut off his iPad as his thoughts circled back to where they’d been for the past few days: mothers. “I wish I had Debbie for a mother,” he said wistfully, thinking of one of the characters on the show.
“Don’t we all?” Jeremy finished wiping down the counter and set the sponge next to the sink. They’d figured out a pretty good mix of who did which chores around the place. Evan usually cooked dinner, and Jeremy cleaned after. Evan wasn’t exactly a great cook, but he didn’t burn everything like Jeremy did. On days they both had a late shift, it was leftovers or frozen food. It worked for them.
Lost in thought, Evan didn’t reply.
“Hey, kid?” Evan glanced up, realizing Jeremy was talking to him. “You okay?”
Evan shrugged. “Thinking about my mom, I guess, and feeling kinda blah.”
“Still working it out in your head?” Jeremy asked as he crossed the room to take a seat at the other end of the couch.
“Yeah. I mean, a part of me is scared, but the rest of me thinks I may never have an opportunity like this again. What if something awful happened to her, and I never gave her a chance?”
Jeremy’s mouth tightened. “I know you want to believe the best of everyone, Evan, but sometimes, I think you’re not quite realistic about it. It’s great to be optimistic, but it hurts so much worse later. In an ideal world, my accident would have made my parents realize I was their only son and that they nearly lost me. Instead, they let me rot in a rehab facility, then tried to steal my settlement money.” He laughed humorlessly. “Talk about kicking me while I was down.”
“My mom wouldn’t do that!” Evan protested.
“Well, she fucking abandoned you when you needed her most,” Jeremy said, scowling. “I get that you want to blame it all on your dad, and maybe it was mostly him, but you know she’s pretty damn spineless. If she moves here to Atlanta and ends up at a church that’s preaching how evil gays are, or her coworkers and friends are spouting some bigoted bullshit, whom is she going to listen to? You already know she’d toss you under the bus for your dad; what’s to say she wouldn’t do it for someone else?”
Jeremy’s barbed words stung. Not because they were untrue, but because they were a very real possibility. He didn’t want to believe something like that about his mother, but Jeremy had a point.
“Look, Evan, I want to believe she’ll get her shit together and come around too, but I don’t want you to get hurt either.”
“I know.” He took a deep breath. “But I think I need to do this. I’ll make sure she understands that I won’t help her financially or give her a place to stay or anything. I just want to get to know her and have her get to know me again. That’s all.”
With a heavy sigh, Jeremy nodded. “Okay.”
Dismayed by the closed-off expression on Jeremy’s face, Evan frowned. “You think I’m making a huge mistake, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. But you know I love you no matter what, right?”
“Yeah, I just ...” His words trailed off on a sigh. He didn’t like the idea of doing something Jeremy didn’t approve of.
“Hey, you do what you need to. I may not agree, but I do understand it.” Jeremy stood and walked to stand in front of Evan. He gave him a long, searching look before bending down to kiss Evan’s forehead. “I’m gonna go work out.”
Which, knowing Jeremy, was code for “I’m about to lose my temper and need to get away and do something physical to calm down.” Evan understood although he was disappointed Jeremy wouldn’t stay and offer support.
As Jeremy walked toward the apartment entrance and reached for his athletic shoes near the door, Evan called out, “I’m going to call her now. Are you sure you won’t stick around while I call? For moral support.” The last part was meant as a joke, but there was a thread of truth in it.
Jeremy turned back to face Evan, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “If you need moral support to call your mom to tell her you want her to be a part of your life, maybe you’re making the wrong decision.”
Evan sat staring after Jeremy long after the door slammed shut and stopped vibrating in the frame. Oh, God, what if this was a mistake? What if he let his mom in his life and she turned on him again and this disagreement with Jeremy was all for nothing?
It took him a long time to work up the courage to dial his mother, and by the time to phone rang, his stomach was a mess of knots.
“Evan!” Lavinia Harris sounded surprised.
“Hey, Mom.”
“I-I didn’t think you were going to call.”
“I needed a few days to think things over.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone for a while. “What did you decide, baby?”
“If you want to move to Atlanta, I’d like to see you some. But there are a couple of conditions.”
He heard her indrawn breath. “What conditions?”
“One: don’t ask me for money.”
She gasped. “Evan, I wasn’t going to. That was all your father’s idea, I swear. I know how hard you’ve worked for what you have. You’re a good kid, and I feel bad that I ever asked, but I only did it because of him. I wouldn’t have otherwise. I wasn’t planning to ask you.” She was crying by the end, and Evan felt a stab of guilt.
“It’s okay, Mom, I understand. It won’t be a problem then, right?”
“Right.” She sniffled.
“Two: I can’t let you stay with me. You’re going to have to find your own apartment.”
“I already have one. All I have to do is show up and sign the lease. My friend at church helped me.” He could hear a tinge of pride in her voice. Maybe for the first time in Evan’s life.
“Good.” Evan took a deep breath. “That brings me to my third condition. I need you to accept that I’m gay and that Jeremy is a part of my life.”
“I prayed on that.”
“And?” He bit back a snarky comment asking what Jesus thought of his relationship with Jeremy and realized he’d been spending too much time with Jeremy. He’d never been so sarcastic before.
“And you’re my son, and God wants me to reach out to you. I don’t understand or approve of your lifestyle, but I don’t have to. I just have to treat you the way Jesus would have.”
“Mom ...” Evan sighed. He had no idea how to respond to that. “I don’t know if that’s going to work. I can’t invite you here if you are going to be rude to Jeremy or tell us there’s something wrong with our relationship. I know you mean well, but that hurts me.” He couldn’t put into words how it made him feel. He wanted to meet his mother halfway, but he wasn’t about to deny who he was just to have a relationship with her.
“I won’t, I swear. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m not asking you to pretend to be someone else. And I’ll try to be real nice to your—your boyfriend, okay? Give me a chance.”
Something about those words tugged at Evan’s heart. That’s all he’d ever wanted. From anyone. From his parents, from employers, from Jeremy. If they hadn’t given him a chance, who knew where he’d be? Now it was his turn.
Maybe if his mom could get to know him for who he was now and see him and Jeremy together, she’d see that there was nothing wrong with him.
“Okay. Yeah. If you move to Atlanta, we can get to know each other again. I can’t promise we’re going to be a family again, but we can try.”
His mom let out a sob. “Oh, thank you, baby. Thank you. I know I wasn’t a very good mom, but I swear, I’m trying.”
“I know. I can tell you are.”
“I miss you, Evan, I really do.”
Evan hesitated, but he really wasn’t ready to say it back. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Good luck with your move. If you need help with lifting the boxes or furniture or something once you get here, let me know.” Not that Evan was very strong, but he had been working out lately, and his mom was pretty small.
“I think I’ll be okay.”
“Well, call me when you get to Atlanta, okay?”
“Thank you, baby. I’m so glad I’m getting a second chance with you.”
Evan continued to think about her words as he said goodbye and hung up the phone. Maybe that was all anyone needed: a chance to right all the wrongs and fix past mistakes.
People like Jimmie Harris and Kevin and Barbara Lewis weren’t going to change. They were never going to be a part of Evan and Jeremy’s lives. But why couldn’t his mom? She seemed to regret the way she’d treated him in the past. Russ’ sister Addie had come around. People changed and learned from their mistakes all the time. He didn’t blame Jeremy for being suspicious, but it didn’t mean Evan had to be.
Speaking of ... He looked up and squinted at the time on the microwave in the kitchen. Hmm, Jeremy had been gone for a long time. He hoped Jeremy wasn’t too mad about him contacting his mom. He didn’t want to fight about something like that. Well, he didn’t want to fight with Jeremy at all, but the last thing he wanted was for his relationship with his mom to come between him and Jeremy.
With a sigh, Evan stood. He turned out the lights in the kitchen and went into the bedroom. He tossed his iPad on the bed and decided to take a shower while he waited for Jeremy to come back. Then Jeremy could shower, and they could crawl in bed together and watch Queer as Folk. It usually got both of them pretty horny, and they’d figured out some pretty good positions lately that didn’t hurt Jeremy’s leg and both of them could enjoy.
Maybe one of these days, Evan would even feel brave enough to fuck Jeremy. The thought of sex with Jeremy cheered him up, and he hummed in the shower as he washed his hair and scrubbed his body.
When Jeremy still wasn’t back by the time Evan got out of the shower, his good mood deflated. He tried to rationalize it, hoping that maybe Jeremy had decided to work out on the weights and go for a swim. Or maybe he’d lost track of time talking to one of the other guys working out at the fitness center. Jeremy pretty much got along with everyone, and as much as he said he didn’t like small talk, he was way more likely than Evan to strike up a random conversation with someone when they went out.
Evan turned out all the lights except for the one beside the bed and crawled under the covers. The sheets smelled like Jeremy’s body wash, and Evan breathed deeply as he settled on his side and turned on the iPad to read. He was letting his anxiety get ahead of him. As soon as he was immersed in his book, Jeremy would come back, they’d talk here in bed, and everything would be okay.
But long after Evan had fallen asleep—iPad dim as it lay in his outstretched hand—the other side of the bed was still empty.
***
A thud and a muttered curse woke Evan from a deep sleep.
“Jeremy?” he said hoarsely.
“Shit, sorry. Yeah, it’s me. I didn’t mean to wake you, but I ran into this fucking dresser, and my leg is killing me.”
Evan sat up and frowned, squinting in the dim light. “Did you injure it? Should I turn on the light?”
Evan saw him limp around the foot of the bed. “It hurts, but it should be fine by morning.”
“Okay.”
He lay down again as Jeremy pulled back the covers and slid into bed. Evan didn’t have to be able to see him to hear the strain in his breathing.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Evan asked tentatively.
“I’m fine,” Jeremy snapped, then let out a heavy sigh. “Damn it, I’m sorry, Evan. I know you’re just worried about me, but really, I’m fine. I was trying to get undressed in the dark without waking you up and I bumped the dresser pretty hard.”
Evan chewed that over for a minute. “You weren’t going to wake me?”
“I planned to let you sleep.”
“Because I have to work tomorrow or because you didn’t want to talk to me?” Evan asked quietly.
“Mostly the first.” There was a guilty edge to Jeremy’s voice. “But some of the second too.”
Evan turned onto his side and slid a little closer to Jeremy. “I don’t want my relationship with my mom to create problems for us.”
“I don’t either. And I am sorry about earlier. I probably should have stayed while you talked to your mom. How did the conversation go?”
Evan hesitated. “Pretty well. I laid out some rules for her, and she swears they won’t be a problem.”
“Ugh, Evan. I know you want this to work, but I just don’t trust her.”
“Well, I’m not you,” Evan snapped, and he heard Jeremy’s indrawn breath. Evan rarely lost his temper. Jeremy was prone to flying off the handle when he was upset, but very few things made Evan angry. This, apparently, was one of them. “I want to give her a chance. And I know you don’t agree with it, but I’d like to think you, at least, support my decision.”
He flipped onto his side, facing away from Jeremy, and scooted to the edge of the mattress.
“Evan, I ...” Jeremy sighed, and Evan tensed when he laid a hand on his back. “C’mon, talk to me. I don’t want to go to bed angry.”
“Let it go, Jeremy,” Evan said, fighting back the tears. He felt exhausted and confused, torn in two separate directions. He loved Jeremy, and he trusted his judgment, but this time, Jeremy was wrong. Evan could trust his mom. Couldn’t he? “I do have work in the morning. Let’s just forget about it for now, okay?”
Jeremy was silent for a long moment, then Evan heard the rustle of covers as Jeremy settled on the mattress. Evan listened to the sound of their breathing—loud in the otherwise quiet room—and wondered why he felt more alone with Jeremy a foot away than when he’d been gone from the apartment.
––––––––
Chapter Fifty-One
Jeremy leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, his breathing too shallow and rapid. His heart pounded like it was trying to leap out of his chest. The smell of blood permeated the air, and he knew if he opened his eyes, he’d see the bone sticking up from the middle of his thigh, his leg bent at an unnatural angle. He could feel the pounding in his head, hear the muffled shouts of paramedics and the scream of sirens. His guts roiled, and he barely managed to wrench open the door and spew the meager contents of his stomach onto the ground.
“Jeremy, I need you to take deep, slow breaths. You’re in a safe place.” A voice penetrated the buzzing in his ears, and he shook his head to clear it. He sat up slowly, bracing himself for pain that never came. He leaned his head against the back of the seat and followed the voice’s instructions as the cloudy white haze of panic began to clear. Although his eyes were still closed, reality began to return in stages as he recognized the voice. Phil.
Driving instructor Phil.
Which meant if Phil was in the car with him, it wasn’t March of his junior year of college. Relief flooded through him as the pieces fell into place. It was December of 2015. Jeremy was in a car, not because it had crashed, but because he was finally trying to learn to drive again. For a vague and terrifying amount of time, he’d lost track of what was happening.
He focused on Phil’s voice and slowly opened his eyes. His heart still pounded in his chest, but the scent of blood was gone. Something cool and damp was pressed into his hand, and he looked over to see Phil pressing a bottle of water into his hand. He gulped it down gratefully, washing away the taste of sickness in his mouth. The bottle crumpled as he emptied it, the plastic too thin to withstand the crushing grip of his hand, and he forced himself to relax and set the mangled thing in the cup holder.
“You’re doing great, Jeremy,” Phil said encouragingly.
“Oh, yeah, puking in the parking lot is such a great accomplishment,” Jeremy snapped.
“You’re not the first client I’ve had puke in the parking lot, and you won’t be the last. Frankly, I’m just grateful when they don’t puke in the car.” Phil handed him a stick of gum, and he took it, the clean, fresh scent of mint reassuring as he popped it in his mouth.
“So this is ... normal?” Jeremy asked, shifting in his seat to look over at Phil.
“Absolutely. Although every person is different, anxiety often runs a similar course for people. Heart palpitations, feeling faint, chest pains, excessive sweat, dry mouth, shaking legs, difficulty breathing, difficulty hearing or seeing ... they’re all very common.”
“I didn’t even fucking put the car in drive. I just sat in the driver’s seat, put on my seatbelt, and rested my fucking hands on the wheel.”
“And the last time you did those things, you were in a severe car accident. Jeremy, your reaction is completely understandable. I can’t stress that enough.”
“Dr. Fuller told me it was going to take a long time, but this is ridiculous,” he muttered.
“There are no shortcuts, unfortunately. If you need to take a step back or wait a few more years, that’s always an option. Many clients take that route.”
“Years?” Jeremy turned to face Phil. “Fuck that. I’m doing this now.”
“Pushing yourself too hard and too fast can be detrimental to your progress. I think we need to take it slower than I anticipated. You’ve passed step one by sitting in the driver’s seat for an extended period of time. I want you to take a few deep breaths, then slowly and carefully reach for the seatbelt. Against my advice, you went right from sitting, to buckling yourself in, to reaching for the wheel. This time, I’d like you to follow my lead and take it slowly.”
Jeremy grumbled under his breath, but he did as Phil instructed, pulling the seatbelt loose, running his hand across the strap to untangle it where it had gotten twisted in his haste to get it off and open the car door to throw up. Moving slow was about as foreign to him as being attracted to women, but he forced himself to take it one excruciating step at a time.
The click of the buckle locking into place made his heart pound.
“I want you to take ten deep breaths, breathing in for a count of five and out for a count of eight.”
Jeremy closed his eyes, following the instructions and listening to his ragged breathing smooth out. He wanted to complain about how ridiculously slow they were going, but maybe Phil had a point. He did feel much more in control than the last time.
They slowly worked up to him putting his hands on the steering wheel, but unfortunately, the good feeling didn’t last. His hands barely touched the wheel before the blood-and-pain-tinged fear returned. He was out of the car and bent over, breathing as if he’d just run six miles before he could stop himself. A flare of pain shot through his hip and thigh, reminding himself that his body couldn’t handle quick, jerky sideways motions like that. As soon as he could straighten, he limped away from the car and the damn sadist who called himself a driving instructor.
Behind him, he could hear Phil calling out to him, reassuring him that he was doing fine, that they’d keep working up to it. He resisted the urge to flip him off and continued walking.
As he waited at the bus stop, he realized he had vomit on his shoe and scowled as he wiped it off on the grass. Great. Just fucking great.
He was never going to learn to drive.
***
A week later, the doors to the bus slid open, and Jeremy shivered as a gust of wind snaked up under his hoodie. He wasn’t ready for winter, but it seemed it was on its way anyway. It was early December, and a cold snap had hit Atlanta.
Nerves crawled like ants in his stomach as Jeremy crossed the parking lot and approached the cluster of people with bikes who were setting up for a ride. He’d done his research, and the Greater Atlanta Cycling Club seemed like a good place for him to start. He wasn’t much closer to learning how to drive, but he’d decided to tackle cycling.
For a moment, he wondered if he’d lost his damn mind.
He’d talked to Dr. Meyer about whether or not he could handle cycling, and she’d cautioned him about strenuous trail riding and strain on his hip, but assured him that using a recumbent bike on streets and easy trails was well within his abilities. There was no reason he couldn’t join a cycling club that was willing to accommodate that. Jeremy had groaned at the idea of a recumbent bike—in his mind, recumbents were for old people—but Dr. Meyer had a point, and the idea of being active outweighed the embarrassment factor.
He’d bought a bike and gotten the hang of using it with some tips from his former physical therapist. She was always happy to answer his infrequent emails about workout modifications. She had been thrilled by the idea of him cycling although warned him that, while overall the recumbent was best for his hip and thigh, he had to be more aware of knee strain.
Once he had the hang of the bike, he had to admit it was much more comfortable to him than a traditional diamond frame upright bike. Now, all he needed to do was talk to the head of the Greater Atlanta Cycling Club about joining. He’d spent a good amount of time on the organization’s website but hadn’t been able to tell how disability-friendly they were. This was the part he really dreaded. Hell, admitting he needed something disability-friendly was a huge step.
Jeremy glanced around at the cluster of people stretching and making adjustments to their bikes, searching for someone who looked like they were in charge of things. He paused by a cluster of them and cleared his throat. He felt woefully out of place in his jeans and hoodie. A woman dressed wearing snug-fitting cycling gear and boasting some impressive quads glanced up.
“Hey, do you know where I can find Brett Sharp?” he asked.
She nodded and threw him a friendly smile. “Sure thing. The tall blond guy in the blue jersey, riding the Fezzari Foré.” She gestured toward someone off to her left, and Jeremy presumed the Italian-sounding name was the brand of bike he rode.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Nice to see new faces around here. Hope to see you more.” Her gaze traveled over him, and he smirked as he turned away.
Oh, lady, you are barking up the wrong tree, he thought as he pictured the guy he’d left sleeping in his bed earlier that morning. But he couldn’t deny it was nice to get hit on occasionally. It had been happening more since he’d been with Evan, and he wasn’t sure if it was his increased confidence or that he was just noticing it now. Maybe his scars hadn’t really been that conspicuous before, and he’d just been oblivious to the admiring glances. Maybe all of his interactions had been colored by how shitty he felt about himself at the time. Wouldn’t Dr. Fuller be proud of me for that bit of naval gazing? he thought dryly.
Jeremy crossed the parking lot to the guy wearing blue spandex that left little to the imagination. Not that it was a bad sight since he was in incredible shape, but Jeremy was too anxious to really appreciate a well-muscled ass in spandex at the moment.
As he approached, the guy looked up from his bike and gave Jeremy an assessing look. “Can I help you?”
Jeremy cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “Yeah, are you Brett?”
“Yeah, Brett Sharp.” He walked over to Jeremy and gave him a smirk. “I’m in charge of the Greater Atlanta Cycling Club. You interested in joining?”
“Thinking about it.”
His gaze swept over Jeremy dismissively. “You an experienced cyclist?”
“No,” Jeremy admitted. “And I know this is a strenuous ride you have scheduled today. I just came to ask you some questions. Figured it would be easier in person than by email.”
“Sure.” The guy crossed his arms over his chest. He definitely was good-looking but had an arrogant expression that immediately turned Jeremy off.
“So, I’m going to be really blunt here,” Jeremy said and took a deep breath. “About fifteen years ago, I was in a serious car accident, and I have some physical limitations. I’m interested in joining a cycling club, but I have a recumbent bike, and I wasn’t sure if that was something that was allowed.”
Brett sneered. “You’re a bent rider?”
Jeremy blinked for a moment, wondering how the guy had figured out he was gay then realized he was referring to his bike. He’d snorted to himself when he’d first heard the term, thinking he was doubly bent. Practically a pretzel. “Yes.”
“We encourage bent riders to stick to their own. We have both road and trail rides, and most are too strenuous for someone like you. I think you’d be better off finding a club that caters to your own type. This is for elite riders who can cycle competitively, not people who need special accommodations.”
Jeremy bristled. “I’m fully capable of doing fifteen, twenty miles on a bike at the gym. I’m more than willing to stick to a beginners’ group until I get more experience, but I’m not crippled.”
He was surprised when the words left his mouth, and for a moment, all he could picture was Evan’s pleased expression, followed by Dr. Fuller’s. Well, damn, he finally believed it. It had only taken him fifteen years to get there.
“Yes, well, I think a cycling group that caters to people with disabilities is more your speed.” Brett’s tone was condescending, and his expression matched.
Jeremy stepped forward, bristling at the insult. “Fuck you, man. If you have a problem with me or my disability, I can’t do a damn thing about it, but if you think you’re better than me just because my leg is fucked up and yours isn’t, you need to get your priorities straight. You have no idea what could happen to you in the future, and I feel sorry for your miserable ass when you get old because life has a way of breaking us all down in the end. You’re going to be in for a rude awakening.” Fuming, Jeremy spun on his right heel and walked away as fast as he could manage. How dare Brett tell Jeremy he didn’t belong with the cycling group? Jeremy had every right to be there.
And he wasn’t about to let some arrogant asshole tell him what he could and couldn’t do, damn it.
***
Still angry when he arrived back at the apartment, Jeremy nearly slammed the door closed behind him before he realized Evan might still be sleeping. He caught the handle in time and closed the door carefully, blowing out a breath of frustration as he attempted to calm down. Evan had worked late the night before and was probably exhausted. Jeremy had gotten up at an ungodly early hour to check out the cycling group before they left on their ride, and he was tired too.
He kicked off his shoes by the door and tossed his hoodie on the couch as he passed it, continuing to strip as he went into the bedroom. Evan was sleeping, buried under so many covers Jeremy could only see a lump under them and a tuft of hair sticking up. He smiled, feeling a little of the anger in him abate at the familiar sight. No matter what life threw at him, coming home to Evan made it better. Even if Evan wasn’t ready to officially call this place home yet and things had been kinda weird and tense since Evan called his mom. They hadn’t been fighting outright, but there was a weird tension they couldn’t seem to shake. He sighed, feeling the melancholy begin to return.
Brett was an asshole, and clearly, the Greater Atlanta Cycling Club wasn’t the right place for Jeremy. He could think of better things to do with his time. Like be in bed with his boyfriend. He glanced at the clock. It was still ass early, and they both had work later. Fuck it! I’m going back to bed, he thought.
Naked, he slipped under the covers and felt Evan jerk in surprise. “Your hands are cold.” Evan’s voice was muffled by the covers, and Jeremy pushed them away from Evan’s face so he could kiss his cheek.
“Sorry,” he whispered, sliding closer so he was spooned around Evan’s body. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“S’okay.” Evan sounded sleepy, and Jeremy could feel his own eyelids drooping. Yep, that was a good plan for the morning. More sleep, maybe some sex, then grabbing brunch before they went into their jobs. “Where were you?”
“Nowhere. Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you later, okay?” Jeremy yawned widely.
Evan wiggled closer and sighed when Jeremy’s arm slid around his waist. “’K.”
In moments, Evan was out cold, and despite the frustration still simmering in him, Jeremy slept too.
Jeremy awoke slowly, hand reaching down to grasp his semi-hard cock before he even bothered to open his eyes. He couldn’t remember the details, but he’d been in the middle of a dirty dream, and his cock was more than aware of it. He gave his dick a lethargic tug, torn between wanting to fall back asleep and the tingling awareness in his balls that made him want to come. He groaned sleepily as Evan shifted against him, his cock pressed against Jeremy’s ass. They were both naked, and the prod of Evan’s cock made him ache to be fucked. He thrust gently into his own fist, moaning as he imagined jerking off while Evan fucked his ass. God, it would be so fucking good.
He reached back, grabbing Evan’s hip and felt Evan jerk awake. “What?” Evan murmured thickly.
“Want you.” Jeremy tightened the grip on his cock and groaned. “Want to feel you in me while I jerk myself off.”
“I’m not even awake, Jeremy.” Evan sounded annoyed and exasperated, and Jeremy felt momentarily guilty about waking him. It had been a couple days since they’d had sex, but he was horny as hell.
“Fucking me will wake you up,” he coaxed. “Grab the lube.”
Evan sighed and pulled away from him before flipping onto his other side. “Not right now. I want to go back to sleep. I worked late last night, and the viewing was awful. I’m tired and sore after the workout I did yesterday too. I don’t feel like doing anything else, okay?”
“You never do,” Jeremy grumbled, his hand stilling as his erection began to wilt. Unfortunately, Evan was still completely against the idea of topping. He claimed he was curious about it, but he chickened out every time they started to explore it. Jeremy was trying to be patient, but damn, it was starting to feel like the issues he had with Stephen. Only the opposite because Stephen had always wanted to top. Was it so hard to find a guy who was a little more versatile? “Is it really too much to ask that I get what I want in the bedroom too?” he snapped, realizing he’d crossed the line the minute the words left his mouth.
“Why are you being such a jerk about this, Jeremy?” Evan snapped back as he flopped onto his back. “I’ve told you; I will when I feel ready, but right now, I don’t want to. Don’t push me.” Evan threw back the covers and got out of bed. “I’m going to take a shower.”
Jeremy grunted as he rolled onto his back, his gaze following Evan’s naked body as he disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door with a decisive click that told Jeremy he wasn’t welcome to follow him in there.
“Fuck,” Jeremy muttered and threw his forearm up over his eyes. “Goddamn it. That was not the way that was supposed to go.” He hadn’t meant to take his frustration out on Evan, but between Brett’s asshole-ish response earlier and the constant rejection from Evan about topping, he was in a foul mood. He sat up, calling out to Evan and hoping he could hear it over the rushing shower water. “I’m sorry, Evan. That was uncalled for on my part.”
There was no response from inside the bathroom, and Jeremy felt his stomach tighten. Evan was far more confident than when they first met, but he still seemed shy about some things, afraid to fail at them. Jeremy knew topping was one of those issues, and he’d never meant to push Evan about it, but he was hardly at his most logical when he was half-asleep and horny.
The question was: had he pushed Evan too far?