Page 41 of Never To Suffer

“Holy shit, Dr. Clay. You sure you were asking if the couch would fit through the doorway when you’re packing this?”

“You just going to sit there and admire it, or finally put that smart mouth of yours to use?”

The deep rumble from his chest is the last sound he makes before I take him into my mouth. He stops breathing, holding the last breath he sucked into his lungs until he hits my throat. His back arches and hands shoot to my head, grabbing two fistfuls of hair and holding me down.

“Holy shit! Holy fucking shit.”

My panic attacks about failing Dani are long forgotten, along with the conversation I had with my father. Maybe that’s why I’m doing this, deep-seated daddy issues. What else would drive me into the arms of older men only to be shoved out of their beds before sunrise? Dani’s tried to help with my near fatal attraction to older men, men who have the power that my father has. The power I could have but don’t want. Now, I tell her I’m clumsy, or getting into bar fights, but it doesn’t help her worry less.

Too many nights end like the one with Mitch did. Bruised, broken, and bloodied, I always end up wishing I could make better choices. I like it rough when it starts, but they take it too far. All of them do, eventually, because I make them see what they are, and they hate me for it. They pay to get off, and I pay the price for making them feel good.

Theo’s hands graze my cheek, and I prepare for the worst. For the real him to beat the shit out of me after he’s finished in my mouth. For the name calling and the pain, both physical and emotional.

“Fuck, you’ve got a hell of a mouth on you, Xander. Keep it up, baby.”

Baby? They never call me that. They call me faggot, homo, queer, bitch boy. They don’t call me baby.

“You’re so pretty on my cock. No, that’s… you’re fucking breath taking, baby. That’s it, beautiful. Wait, are you…crying?”

I pinch my eyes together and wait, no doubt about what’s coming next while I’m trying everything to keep the tears back. The thumb wiping my face makes me flinch, but I keep going. The pain starts if I let go of his cock.

“Stop. Xander, stop!” He pulls my face from his lap, holding his hands on either side of my head as he stares at me. I can’t look at him, so I brace for the impact and hope it isn’t my face this time.

“Xander, I said you didn’t have to do this. I meant it.”

“I…want to.”

“Do you? Why are you crying?”

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop. I can stop. I promise.”

“Oh. Fuck, I really should have seen that coming,” the growl dissipates, replaced by something else. Softness and understanding. Kindness. He pulls me off the floor, but it’s gentle, not painful. I still can’t make eye contact with him, but damn, I want to. I’m not sure if I’m scared because it might be a trap, or scared because his concern sounds so real.

“You’re safe, Xander. I won’t hurt you; that’s not how this is supposed to work. Those men aren’t men. They’re disgusting pigs and you… you deserve better.”

“How did you—?” My chest tightens and I can’t breathe. I can’t focus. Before he can say another word, I’m on my feet and across the room, collecting our bottles and heading into the kitchen like nothing happened. The sound of the sink helps clear my mind as I rest my head against the overhead cabinet.

“Stupid fucking…” I mumble to myself, grinding my teeth together. “What were you fucking thinking? What the fucking fuck, Xander. God fucking?—”

The weight of him pressing against me stops my muttering. He reaches around me, turning the water off and wrapping around me, leaving gentle kisses below my ear.

“I’m a psychiatrist, Xander. You’re not the first person I’ve met who’s suffered. Sadly, you won’t be the last. But you don’t have to face this alone, and you don’t have to worry about that with me.” I can’t stop my body from melting into him. What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I like this? The hypnotic smokiness of his voice pulls me deeper into him, dragging me to a safety I don’t recognize. “You’re braver and stronger than you think, Xander. You’re worthy of kindness and respect, and that’s what you should get from these men. But you can’t stop yourself, can you?”

“N-no.” It’s a sob filled with years of resentment and hate directed at myself. I can’t hold it in anymore and I scream. “Fuck! FUCK!”

“There you go. That’s good. It’s a release, and that’s a start.” He doesn’t bark at me, doesn’t yell. His voice stays soft and even. “You’re okay. No one will hurt you. Not while I’m here.”

I’m gulping air and the tears opened a floodgate I don’t have control over. The bravado has all but vanished, hiding somewhere and leaving me raw and exposed. But not scared. For once, I’m not scared. “Show me. Show me what it’s supposed to be like.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. Yes. Please?”

He turns me around and cups my face, running his thumbs across my cheeks while his nose brushes against mine. He doesn’t shove his tongue down my throat, but takes his time tasting my lips, teasing my mouth open, and finally kissing mewithout a trace of regret or disgust. Everything slows down—my heart, my breathing, and even my mind. When I open my eyes, he presses his forehead to mine.

He stops me when I lower myself, but I shake him off and drop to my knees. Glancing up, he caresses my cheek again as I pull down his pants and boxers, but this time, when I take him into my mouth, he unleashes a moan so loud I’m sure the old lady down the hall will complain about it later.

“Oh, goddamn it.” I lift my eyes, watching him grip the edges of the sink with both hands and close his eyes. I try a hum, and he moans even louder, showering me with more praise. “Atta boy, keep doing that. You’re a work of art, fucking beautiful.” he whispers.

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