Page 36 of Breaking You Open

“Hold on harder,” I tell him. “Don’t want you to fall off, now, do we?”

“No,” he mumbles into my back.

Hm. Is he just tired, or is he still sad?

When we get home, I make the sofa bed for him, and he gets rid of his clothes and changes into his oversize sleeping shirt—myshirt—and mumbles something too low for me to hear.

With a hand on the back of his head, I haul him into a half hug. “Say again?”

He leans into my chest and sniffles. “Maybe I should leave tomorrow.”

What the hell? “Why would you do that?”

“You clearly don’t want me here. It’s better for you if I leave.” He turns from me and lies on the couch, pulling the covers up to his chin.

I sit on the side of the couch and lay a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t, remember? That psycho ex of yours will snatch you up.”

“But you don’t want me here,” Sparrow whispers, head turned and buried into the pillow. “You just think I’m an annoying little brat. A kid. You don’t want me to suck your dick again because I was too bad at it, and you don’t even want to try having sex with me because I’ll probably be bad at that too, right?”

“No,” I say, barely able to contain a laugh. “That’s not it at all.”

“Then why?” he whispers. “Why don’t you like me?”

I close my eyes and open them slowly, the words rising from a half-forgotten part of me—a place I rarely tread, and when I do, it’s with the utmost care and caution.

“Idolike you.”

Sparrow turns around to face me, his huge blue eyes staring straight into my soul. “You do?” He smiles, but then his brow furrows again. “In that case…why? Why won’t you sleep with me?”

I lift my hand from his shoulder to push his bangs out of his face. He closes his eyes immediately, mouth parting. He’s so responsive. So soft to my touch.

“I’ll tell you someday, okay? I promise.” I withdraw my hand, and when his lids shift back open, he looks up at me with something like adoration in his eyes.

Why is he like this? Why does he trust me so much? Seems counterintuitive with everything I know of him so far—his upbringing in a foster home, his foster brother taking advantage of him when he was just fourteen years old…How come he’s so trusting and caring and sweet, whereas I, who haven’t been through nearly as much sorrow and pain, have hardened into a vicious grump of a man whose redeeming qualities are few?

The gap between us can’t be met. We’re just too different and in different stages of life. I can fuck him into the mattress until he’s a satisfied mess, sure, but I can’t give him what he truly wants. Why should I give him that hope—the indication that there might be something more between us—only to shatter it later on? Why should I take the risk of ruining him like I ruined Justin?

I know why: to have his naked body against mine, his tight hole opening against my tongue, and my cock between his cheeks pressing inside as his panting mouth tells me “more.”

Nine years ago, I would’ve given in. But I’m supposed to be older now, and wiser. I’m supposed to have control over myself. I’ve already given him too much and at the same time too little. I should establish some boundaries between us; I can’t keep touching him like this, and he can’t keep looking at me with those glittering eyes and anticipating mouth.

On the other hand, should I really rip that away, when he seems to have so little in life to rejoice in? A few touches and glances won’t do much harm, will they? And I can’t deny that part of me loves to tuck him into bed like this, and yeah, I also like it quite a bit when he looks at me like he does now.

Shaking my head at my own indecisiveness, I pull the covers up to his chin and kiss his forehead. Big mistake. When my lips touch his skin, he makes a surprised, breathy sound—halfway between a gasp and a moan—and the sound goes straight to my cock.

I stand up stiffly. “Well. Good night, then.”

“Night,” Sparrow says, cheeks red and eyes shiny on mine.

As I try to fall asleep, I hear noises coming from the living room: repeated gasps, sheets rustling, and a final repressed moan. Did he just…? Yeah, I guess he did. When I hear a hissed curse and a rip of paper towels from the kitchen, I don’t know if I should laugh or follow his example and jerk off myself.

I wait until I hear him fall asleep, then I settle for the latter. Might as well keep the lusts of the flesh at bay.

Chapter 11

Sparrow

Aaron used to tellme that if you want something in this world, you have to boldly go after it. I’ve never dared to do what he preached, but on the other hand, maybe I haven’t wanted anything badly enough. Except to escape him, of course.

---