Page 74 of The Care of Broken Things
Eli kissed him. Not like before, this was a thing more of affection than passion, but that the man did it at all was only further fuel to the fire, and he could feel himself swelling with an outrage Eli only compounded by interrupting.
“As much as I adore it, we don’t have time for your knight errantry right now. We’ve got to call Than and get your father on the phone—Jenny too, if we can manage it.” And he didn’t wait for an answer, just dragged Samuel back out of the closet, as if they’d been doing nothing but having a chat, even though their thoroughly rumpled—and, in Eli’s case, half torn shirt—made it clear they’d been doing nothing of the sort. In fact, it was that very appearance that kept his arguments stoppered up in his throat. He hadn’t realized all of what he’d been doing, and now every step showcased further evidence. Eli’s swollen mouth, the unconcealed teeth marks on his jaw, the long line of sucking wet that went around nearly the whole circumference of his neck like some kind of necklace of perversion. He didn’t know which was stronger, the awe he felt, or the guilt. There was plenty of both.
Guilt won out in the end. It began to rise when Eli got on the phone and spoke to Jethro like they were old friends whoknew everything they needed to know about each other. “You don’t have to worry about that,” said Eli without the slightest hint of intimidation. “Samuel has his pride, sure, but he’s not going to stay here like some benighted martyr if my husband has anything to say about it. Nathaniel’s never lost an argument, you know. Not that I think there’ll be much of an argument. Samuel wants to fuck him far more than he wants to fight him.”
Eli might have said something after that. He didn’t know. The blood was too hard in his ears. He wrenched the phone out of Eli’s hand but couldn’t do anything but hold on to it. And Eli was smiling at him. Was leaning in close and nudging into him with that lovely nose, and Samuel knew he was going to kiss him again and didn’t know how he was going to stop it. He didn’t want to stop it. He had to, but he didn’t have such an endless well of strength. How many times could one step away from his own happiness? But he would do it. He had to. And then Nathaniel rescued him.
“Sam?”
He still hated nicknames. He was sure of it. Or would have been if he weren’t so happy to hear that name from that mouth.
He hurriedly raised the receiver. “Nat! I need to—”
He stopped. Of course he did. Because going further would mean breaking Nathaniel’s heart, and he couldn’t do it. Even though they never lied to each other. Not even at the very beginning. And now—and now he’d… “I didn’t mean to cheat.” And he could feel excuses bubbling up, excuses he was desperate to believe. Because how could he be in the kind of world where men like Nat could get cheated on? He wouldn’t live in a world like that. Wouldn’t wantanyonein a world like that, and Nathaniel most of all. “I was just surprised, and it was sudden, and my body…” He didn’t know what to say next. It would just be lies.
“Cheat?” And Nathaniel’s voice was just as it always was. So warm and soothing and the opposite of accusation. “As if youcould. Oh Sam, was it everything you hoped it would be?”
He didn’t understand. Maybe that was what kept him quiet. Or maybe he just wanted to hear more of Nathaniel’s voice.
“I know the setting isn’t what I would have wanted for you, and he tortured you for so long. Was that your first kiss with him? Tell me everything.”
And he did. At first as a duty, a man come to confession, but then because he needed to, because he needed Nathaniel to make it all right. He couldn’t regret the kiss. He’d been wrong to do it, yes, but it had been magic, even though magic didn’t exist, not for killers and homewreckers. But it had been. And still was. Because Eli was still there, a steady warmth at his back. And he found himself spilling not just the kiss, but all his other sins. His shameful thoughts, and only about half—maybe less than half—about Eli. Nathaniel had just been so safe. So warm, and so unguarded. “I didn’t mean to see you that way. But I would close my eyes, and you would touch me, and you made it seem like a good thing, and I thought maybe it wasn’t so bad if I just kept the thoughts in my head. If I never spoke them out loud—”
“Oh, Sam.”
And Nathaniel’s voice was hoarse, so he knew it must hurt. Really hurt. Which was why the man’s next words made so little sense.
“For fuck’s sake, Eli, take him. Take him right now, or I swear I’ll break in and fuck him myself.”
Maybe it was the stress of it all. People said all kinds of things when they were stressed. And Eli must have been stressed too, because he said, “I told you, we’re not doing anything until we can all be back home together.”
“Fuck you. Stop hurting the poor thing, and your husband as well. Didn’t you take vows against torture when you married me?”
“I know it’s difficult, but it’ll be better in the long run if—”
“Suck him off, at least. Even you can stretch the prudishness that far, can’t you? But keep me on the phone while you do it. Or do you need privacy for things like that? I’m not as sweet as you, Sam. Will you forgive me?”
Forgive him? He was about to canonize him.
“Then…” He wasn’t sure if he could say it. He didn’t know if he could handle being laughed at just then, but it came out of him anyway. “You also want me?”
And the laugh came, just as he thought it would. Except it wasn’t that kind of laugh. It was warm and light and wonderfully breathless. “Want you?” And it wasn’t just Nathaniel, but Eli too, his laugh a deep thrum of vibrations that went into his and down his back as Eli pressed his lips to the base of his neck as his husband continued to speak. “My heart, if Eli hadn’t already prepared me for men of ungodly beauty, I would have fallen to the floor stone-dead the moment I first stepped into that prison. Want you? It goes beyond that. So far beyond that. Don’t you know how much I love you?”
And there was still gentleness in it. Still that warm Nathaniel cocoon that always came with his words, as if he were laughing at himself and encouraging others to laugh too, to laugh and warm each other and never, ever hurt. But there was heat there as well. Just a touch of exasperation. The tone he used when he’d said something dozens and dozens of times already—and he had. In every phone call, in every visit, in every letter, Nathaniel had given that love and said it so openly, so without embroidery or embarrassment, that Samuel had entirely dismissed it, as he had to dismiss it, because no part of his experience had ever prepared him to receive a love like Nathaniel’s, so free of burdens, not expecting anything or asking for a trade. It was impossible, that kind of love. The world they lived in should have stamped it out or at least distorted it into the usual twisted thing. It couldn’t allow a feeling like this. And maybe it didn’t—maybe it was stamped out in every corner ofthe world with just that one tiny exception. Because even Eli didn’t love like this. That love was wonderful, but there were threads of guilt mixed in, his own, and the ones he put in others. And Jenny’s love too, was like that. Except instead of water, it was a wall. A powerful and unbreakable thing meant to lock around him like armor, one that caused a certain tightness in his breathing. It was impossible to be made so safe without some restrictions. But Nathaniel—Nathaniel just loved. There were no expectations there. No demands that he keep himself safe. No seeing him as he wasn’t. No roles being pushed onto him. He just kept that love open, the support there if he wanted to fall into it. A support Samuel hadn’t just misunderstood, but entirely vandalized, slapping all his own labels on it. Calling Nathaniel clueless or strange, as if a love like that could be some sort of accident.
He’d been so stupid. Not just a coward, but a complete fool. An idiot of such magnificent proportions he didn’t know how he’d ever forgive himself, much less be forgiven by Nathaniel. And yet, Nathaniel was still holding out that netting to him, the support always promised and always there and never a trap. Without wasting another of so many already wasted moments, Samuel flung himself into it, head and heart first, for once with no worries of what effect that might have or what damage his actions might cause. He didn’t have to think. Because it was Nathaniel, and Nathaniel would always take care of him.
“I love you." And it was so good to say. Such a wonderful gift. "I can’t think without loving you. I don’t want to have any thoughts without you. I fall asleep as fast as I can at night to be with you. Because in those dreams—the good ones—you’re always there, and you feel so good. You could never feel like anything else. Nat, I love you so much it doesn’t even hurt. Do you believe me?”
Because that, if it was a worry, was the only one. Not that he might not deserve loving Nathaniel, or that he’d be sure to fuck it up like he did everything else, but that, after wasting somuch time waiting, Nathaniel might not believe him—and then what would he do?
Keep telling him, he discovered, because that was what he was doing. The pent-up words of so many months spilling out over and over. “I want you here. Need to feel you and to be close. Talk to me, Nat. Let me hear. I don’t ever want to let go of you.”
And Nathaniel did his best, stumbling at times, but always generous, as he spoke the words he most needed to hear, and never getting annoyed, no matter how many assurances he had to give, and always with that warmth and an enthusiasm so flattering he found himself smiling into the crook of his arm, terrified to show his happiness in the fear it would be taken from him. But no one made any objections. None he could hear, anyway—not that he was listening.
“I want you, Nat. I want you. Please, I want you.”
And from the receiver he heard a sound almost like pain. “I’m yours, Sam. Every minute of every day I’m with you. You can feel it, can’t you?”
