Bound by Lies (22 page)

“So, you’re leaving for this part, right?”

Brayden listens for a reply, but the only one he gets is the feel of Jenner pressing up flush to Brayden’s back, his long, thick arms wrapping Brayden from behind. A large hand cups over Brayden’s abdomen, filled with fluid, sticky with spend. Another hand fondles Brayden’s mostly flaccid member then lower, rolling his balls.

Right by Brayden’s ear, Jenner murmurs, “I’ve never taken anyone bareback before. It was incredible. You felt
so good
and the thought of you filled with my seed,
dripping
with it….”

Jenner fondles further back, behind Brayden’s sac to the trickles of semen running down his inner thigh. With Jenner pressed up against his back so snugly, Brayden can feel his lover’s dick fight to rise. It nudges him like a promise. Brayden’s arms shoot out to brace against the wall and he stays clenched tight as a vice. Jenner takes Brayden’s earlobe between his teeth, nips and tugs. Brayden’s eyes roll back with a blissful sigh. He tilts his head slightly to allow greater access.

“You’re
mine
now,” Jenner whispers. “I’ve
marked
you. Wanna get down on my knees and lick your thighs clean….”

Brayden arches and moans, having long forgotten that he wanted Jenner to leave.

With a firm hand, Jenner grabs Brayden’s shoulder and forces him down, sitting him squarely on the toilet seat.

“Let it go,” Jenner commands, not releasing him.

Brayden doesn’t want to, but it’s become near impossible to keep his ass shut, so he simply stops fighting it. His feeling of degradation blooms anew but then he hears Jenner turn on the water in the shower and the hand is gone from his shoulder. Using the moment’s reprieve, he quickly cleans up and flushes. No sooner is he back on his feet, than Jenner is turning toward him and gesturing to the parted shower curtain.

“After you,” Jenner says with dry amusement.

“You’re a thorough son-of-a-bitch, aren’t you?” Brayden retorts. “And kind of a voyeur.
Sir
.”

“
Kind of
a voyeur? I’m waiting.” Jenner raises his eyebrows expectantly.

With a chuckle and a shake of his head, Brayden gives in with a slightly sardonic, “Yes, Master,” for which Jenner rewards him with a hard swat to his backside on his way over the edge of the tub.

The shower is soothing, sensual, and one of the more relaxed intimate moments between them thus far. Brayden tries to claim control of the bar of soap, but Jenner easily snatches it from him and does the washing, scrubbing and rubbing over every inch of skin with eager hands. He even hand-washes Brayden’s hair. When finished, Jenner cleans himself off.

Noticing a displeased quirk of the lips when Jenner washes his own hair, Brayden calls him on it.

“Oh, it’s just getting too long,” he explains.

“What, your hair?”

“Yeah.”

“So?”

“So I don’t let my hair get this long. I should have gotten it cut last week, but I’ve been too
distracted
. I wonder whose fault that is?”

“You should grow it out. Who cares? I like long hair.”

“Yeah,” Jenner grunts, falling curiously silent.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me. What’s the big deal?”

With a slightly dramatic sigh, Jenner sets down the soap and fingers through his hair, twisting the strands. “I have curly hair, okay? And I hate it.”

Brayden smiles, lighting up. “Really?”

“Yes. And I’m not talking a ’fro. It’s full-on, big, chunky curls that turn into ringlets if it gets too long. It’s a nightmare and my curse. So, I keep it shaved short enough without it looking like I’m about to enlist.”

Taking a step forward, Brayden closes the gap between them. He bites at his lower lip, imploring Jenner with a look. “Grow it out for me? Please?”

“Oh, you’ve
gotta
be kidding me.
Now
you turn into a flirt? When it comes to me looking like a fucking girl?” He reaches past Brayden and shuts off the water. “No way.”

“Please,” Brayden begs, pressing his palms together in supplication. “You owe me for the bareback, right? Grow out your hair and we’re even.”

Jenner stares at him, then breaks into a laugh, “You’re ridiculous. It doesn’t work like that.”

“Says who?” Brayden’s fingers trail up and over to Jenner’s right nipple, drawing circles around it as it stiffens from both the cold and the stimulation. Then he pinches it between two fingers and twists. Fresh heat blooms in Jenner’s eyes, his breath coming heavier. Brayden, encouraged by the reaction, dips his head only slightly and curls his tongue. He licks over the peaked flesh that’s right in front of his mouth, suckling briefly on it. He drags his teeth over Jenner’s nipple then sucks again, harder. When his hand falls between Jenner’s thighs, for the very first time touching him there, his fingers skitter nervously over the softened flesh. The response in Jenner is even more dramatic.

In the blink of an eye, Jenner grabs the arm Brayden is using to grope him, slams him back against the bathroom wall and holds him there. Just as the wind is knocked out of him, Brayden feels Jenner’s mouth crash into his. It takes him a moment to catch up as Jenner’s tongue sweeps over his and he swallows Brayden’s groan. But then Brayden is kissing him back, licking into Jenner’s mouth to taste him.

He’s dizzy when they break and empowered with a newfound knowledge of how easy it is to turn Jenner on.

“So, about that bed.”

“Tomorrow,” Jenner promises breathlessly, leading Brayden back into the bedroom.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Seriously,” he nods. “If you want to take the bed tonight, I’ll sleep on the floor. Or on top of you.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you. Are you sure? I could just head home. It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m sure. Stay. Please.”

With a tickle of excitement, Brayden succumbs to temptation and nods. “Yeah, all right. Let me just go get my bag.”

“This is stupid.”

Brayden senses Jenner’s mild aggravation when he replies, “Are you calling me a pussy? You are, aren’t you, because you can’t seem to let this go. I’m fine sleeping here.”

Lying on his side at the edge of the bed, Brayden looks down at Jenner lying on the floor. His makeshift bed is padded with a spare blanket and pillow. Brayden props his head on a hand. “Okay, you’re fine. It’s still totally stupid.”

“Let me ask you something. I’ve been meaning to ask and don’t take this the wrong way since clearly I, um,
enjoy
your stature,” Jenner starts. Raising a single eyebrow, Brayden waits to see where this is going. “But if you were a lifeguard and had to rescue someone my size, how the fuck would you manage that? Especially someone as big as me who’s near drowning and might pull you under out of sheer panic. I’ve seen how people react when they’re in that situation. It’s dangerous.”

“Hell, yeah, it’s dangerous,” Brayden allows. “But I did just fine. It’s all in the training.”

“Did anyone ever pull you under?” The answering silence says it all. Jenner scans Brayden’s face, seeing the hard, pressed-thin line of his mouth and the way he avoids eye contact. “I’m glad you don’t do it anymore.”

“It’s an important job,” Brayden says in his own defense.

“Doesn’t mean you need to risk your own life for strangers. You never answered my question.”

“How I would save you?”

“Yeah.”

After considering his response as much as the possible implications of Jenner’s intense concern for his well-being, Brayden says, “I’d come up behind you so that you wouldn’t see me or where I was. It’d be harder for you to take me down. And it’s not just the person you’re rescuing that’s the danger, there’s also riptides that’ll just pull you right out to sea. If it got really bad, maybe I’d dunk you or slap you to snap you out of it, like, ‘hey, I’m here to help you,’ you know?”

“Can someone sue you for injuring them while you’re trying to save them?”

Brayden shrugs, “There’s those Good Samaritan laws that protect trained emergency workers from stuff like that.”

“How bad was it?” Jenner asks quietly. Brayden lies down on his back, staring up at the ceiling, aware that Jenner can’t see his face at that angle. “When that person pulled you under?”

“I don’t know. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Bray….”

“Let’s just say it’s a good thing there was a second lifeguard on duty that morning.”

“Jesus. What about the other guy that was drowning?”

“He was fine. He was standing there when I woke up coughing up rank saltwater.”

Vaguely wondering what time it is, as Jenner’s place is without clocks, Brayden buries the memory, or tries to. He’s surprised when he feels Jenner, who has sat up, touch his hand. Flattening it to the bed, Jenner presses their palms together, weaving their fingers.

“Why’d you do it? What’s the appeal, especially after something like that happens?”

Keep from losing people
, he thinks.
Keep them safe, any way you can. Keep them here. Keep them from slipping away, because they always slip away.

“People have a duty to help each other,” Brayden tells him quietly. “Why else are we here, living these lives, if not to at least do our part? I’m a good swimmer. And I guess I have that drive to contribute. Made sense to me.”

They both stare at their intertwined fingers. It’s the first time they’ve held hands. “I’m proud of you. I couldn’t have done it. Given up so much, so selflessly. But I’m glad you did.”

Brayden realizes that they aren’t talking about lifeguarding anymore. He gazes over at Jenner, whose blue eyes are open with everything in him laid bare, reflected in their depths. Something cold, hard and jaded is hiding there, fighting for dominance with the warmer, more vulnerable part of Jenner’s essence. Jenner shifts, moving closer to where Brayden’s head rests upon the bed. Leaning down over him, Jenner brushes the hair back from Brayden’s cheek. Brayden savors the heat and nearness, the electric charge in the skin-to-skin contact. Then, Jenner bends closer, his lips softening, eyes closing, and waits.

A moment later, the butterfly-light touch of Brayden’s first freely-given kiss brushes over Jenner’s mouth.

“’Night, Jenn.”

Despite his assurances to Brayden about the sleeping arrangements, Jenner does not sleep well that night on the hard floor. He gets small snippets of rest, but wakes frequently between dreams of being caught in a tidal surge of something much less tangible but even more powerful than water. It engulfs him, consumes him. He’s trapped and tangled, turned upside down. Though he could try to fight it, could fall prey to panic, he instead gives in and lets go.

His frequent waking turns out to be in his favor, though. Sometime around mid-morning, after finally falling truly asleep around dawn, there’s the faint sound of someone fiddling with the front door’s locks.

“Shit,” Jenner curses, struggling to a sitting position, then to his feet, favoring the knotted muscles in his sore back as he does. With a fleeting glance at Brayden, who is wearing only a clean pair of boxers from his cherished duffel and tangled up in the bed sheet, fast asleep, Jenner hobbles out of the bedroom towards the sound from the door.

He’s almost there when the door opens, but gets caught when it’s only an inch or two ajar, snapping the chain lock tight.

“What the sweet hell…?” he hears as a familiar voice curses softly.

“Yeah, gimme a sec. Hold on,” he says, pushing the door closed again and taking off the chain. With it freed, he stands aside and waves his guest in. “Ma. Hey. What a surprise.”

Bette Parrish, a handsome woman from whom Jenner got his good looks and his curly, black hair, if not his height and size, looks Jenner over from head to toe, clearly disapproving of his state of undress, clad in boxers and nothing else. She asks, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, late night. I came up here to crash instead of going all the way home. I was just getting dressed.”

“Mm,” she hums with doubt, trying to look past him, down the hall to the bedroom. He shifts over to block her view, smiling sweetly.

“Let me just finish up. We can go get some breakfast,” he suggests with what he hopes is believable enthusiasm.

“A mother can tell when her boy’s just woken up, you know. I wasn’t born yesterday. Go on. Get some damn clothes on,” she sighs, shooing him off.

“But uh, why are
you
here?”

“Well, I didn’t know you were using the apartment. I have a friend from my book club that’s looking to rent and I was going to take some photos of the place to show her. Maybe you’d finally have a renter! Though you would lose your crash pad,” she adds with a sideways glance. Sliding the heavy purse from her shoulder, she sets it on the kitchen counter and begins to rustle through it, not even a little oblivious to her son’s flustered state which is swiftly edging towards panic. “…Pants?”

“Yeah. Yeah, pants,” he agrees, rubbing warmth into his arms which are suddenly covered in goosebumps.

Almost too quietly to hear, the bedsprings creak from the rear of the apartment. Jenner pales. Excusing himself, he jogs out of sight.