Page 102 of Don't Shoot Me Santa
Aaron turned back to the kennel before he answered the question Kenny had asked him earlier:“What are you afraid of with me?”Because it wasthat…exactly that look he was afraid of. When Kenny stopped seeing through him, stopped being obsessed with him and all the things that made him this messed up headcase, andsawhim. Who he really was. Without the trauma and the bloodline and everything else that kept Kenny interested. Because what if Kenny stopped being obsessed with the mystery? What if one day, he looked at Aaron and didn’t see a puzzle anymore?
That was the same fear he’d carried since the night on Kenny’s doorstep, all those years ago, when he’d asked if Kenny would’ve kissed him if he were some random twink, and Kenny had said no. Because those boys didn’t keep his interest.
And that was it, wasn’t it?
Aaron wasn’t afraid Kenny would stop loving him.
He was afraid Kenny would solve him.
And stop looking.
So he turned away, buzzed his keycard to the individual kennel door and entered. The cold, concrete floor had been layered with old rugs and a wool blanket. It smelled of fear and antiseptic. Lucky was curled tight in the corner, limbs tucked under her long body, ribs showing more today than they had yesterday. Her eyes flicked up. Wide, glassy, andskittish. She trembled at the sound of the door but didn’t growl. Not this time.
Aaron dropped to his knees, making himself smaller, and breathed with her.
In. Out. In. Out.
Then he offered the back of his hand. Palm down. Lucky stared. Sniffed. Didn’t move.
So Aaron lowered his voice. “Hey, girl. I’m back.”
A long silence. Then, movement. The faintest shuffle forward, ribs rising with each cautious breath. She sniffed his hand. Licked once. Then again.
Aaron’s throat tightened. “Good girl.”
He pulled the packet of wet food from his coat pocket stashed in there for Chaos and opened it, then placed a spoonful onto the blanket, inching it forward. Lucky hesitated… then lowered her nose. Sniffed. And, after a long moment, ate.
Aaron didn’t breathe until the second bite.
Then she edged closer. Nose to his knee. Nudging her head under his arm. Seeking. Trusting. And that’s when it hit him. The grief. The helpless ache creeping in sideways, making his ribs feel hollow and throat too tight to speak. He dropped his head forward, ruffling his forehead into her fur. She didn’t flinch. She nudged in deeper, curling herself into him as if she understood. As if she’d felt that same brand of abandonment. That same fear.
Aaron’s shoulders shook.
He didn’t sob, but tears came anyway. Silent. Hot. Soaking into her scruffy coat. Behind him, Kenny said nothing. He watched. Quiet. Present.
And he stayed there as Aaron cried for a girl he didn’t know but felt guilty he couldn’t save. That she was yet another in a long line of those he hadn’t been able to save.And Lucky licked Aaron’s tears, ate more food as the tears kept falling. Then as Aaron peeled himself away, locked the door to the kennel with his eyes still shedding, Kenny wrapped his arms around him. Held him.
And later, when they got home, grief following them in, Kenny took Aaron’s hand and led him to the fire. He lit it. Let the warmth build. And there, he undressed Aaron. Piece by piece. No rush. No need for words. And when they lay down together on the rug, bare skin on bare skin, Kenny didn’t play. Didn’t edge. Didn’t tease.
He madeloveto him.
Tender. Slow. No barriers. No games. No…roles.
Aaron locked his legs around him, holding tight, threading his fingers through Kenny’s hair to pull it back from his face. He needed toseehim. Not just the man, but the look in his eyes. The one that wrecked him every time. And there, forehead to forehead, breath shared in that fragile, trembling space between heartbeats, Aaron broke.
“God, Kenny… please.” His voice cracked apart, hoarse with truth. “Please don’t ever stop wanting me.”
It wasn’t just a plea. It was everything. Torn straight from his chest. Raw, desperate, laid out bloody between them. And fuck, it was easier to say it now. Easier when he was open and aching and already half-undone. When Kenny had stripped him down and loved him right through it. Every shattered edge, kissed. Every broken piece held as if something worth keeping.
Kenny stilled with that sharp, stunned kind of silence. But he eventually moved again. Slower.
“I won’t.” He thrust deeper. As if trying to write himself into Aaron’s bones. “Ever.”
He kissed the side of Aaron’s neck, soft and shaking, and when that tear hit his collarbone, hot and sudden, Aaronalmost lost it completely.Fuck. He could’ve died right there, torn open with love. But Kenny kept going, keptsaying itwith every thrust, every word a beat drummed into him:
“I love you. So… Fucking… Much.”
A sound escaped him. A half groan, half prayer.
