Page 49 of Just Business
How he ended up on his stomach, face cradled by the softest pillow he’d ever felt, he wasn’t sure. Eli was applying something cool to his back, quenching the fire there. Justin relaxed into the quiet stillness of the room and Eli’s touch and closed his eyes.
***
When Eli returned from washing his hands, Justin was asleep, sprawled on one side of the bed, his naked, welted back uncovered. Slow steps forward. He didn’t want to wake Justin. He shouldn’t have worried. Even when he draped the sheet and blanket over Justin, he didn’t move, his breathing deep and even. Eli scrubbed his face. He should undress, crawl into bed, and let that same sleep consume him.
He couldn’t. Too much buzz, too much energy, and a single question kicked around in his brain.
Are we doing the right thing?
He didn’t know. He still didn’t know. Eli pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead.Fuck.
Downstairs. Sleep was not an option and he needed not to look at Justin, not to want to kiss his skin or feel his heat. Eli stripped off his button-down—too much Justin on that. The t-shirt beneath was damp, but with sweat. His leg hurt like mad with every controlled step from the room. While the pain descending the stairs made him cling to the bannister, it did nothing to clear his head.
Eli stumbled into the living room and sank down on the couch.Whatwashe doing?No clue. Absolutely none.
Through the dim light filtering in from outside, Eli picked out bits and pieces of his life. The photo of the Western Wall he’d taken in Jerusalem. Noah’s Kiddush cup. The sculpture of a cat he’d bought in Egypt. The tacky rainbow mug he’d picked up last year when Michael and Sam had dragged him to Pride in the Street. Plants. Candles. Items that meant something, but only to him because no one else knew the reasons they were in this room.
For the first time in ages, thathurt. He wanted Justin to know him—not the CFO, not the Dom, not the cold man with the cane and limp, but the guy who sat in the dark with his heart in his throat. The one who had a fuckload of issues and a therapist on speed dial and a patchwork heart.
He’d known Justin two months.
He didn’t bring men home from parties. Didn’t fuck them in his bed. Hell, when was the last time he’d dated? Eli pulled his aching leg up onto the couch.
Thatwas easy. Michael, during undergrad. They’d salvaged a strong friendship from the debacle, but after that, he’d given up completely. Too many broken pieces, too many odd quirks he wasn’t sure were him or the result of the fallout from the accident.
Eli leaned his head back against the couch and looked up at the lines of light and shadow on the ceiling. Justin’s obvious pain had burned through Eli like a firebrand.
Even now, even after coming three times, the memory of Justin’s cries, the shuddering way he sucked in air after each blow, the tracks of tears down his face warmed Eli. Justin had a body built for thrashing.
God, he was such amonster. Eli covered his eyes and grit his teeth.
Are you, Eli?Dr. Brohmer’s voice rang in his head. Not like they hadn’t had that conversation a few dozen times.
I love their pain, love making them feel it. How they move, how they sound. I—how can I not be a monster? People aren’tlikethis!
Her snort had been indelicate.Many people are like this. These men crave what you offer. Are they monsters, too?
A trilling meow shook Eli from the past and Lavi jumped up onto the couch, padded his way onto Eli’s lap, and head-butted him in the chin. Eli wrapped his arms around Lavi. He was soft and warm and purring up a storm. “Daddy’s not doing too well.”
Lavi merely rubbed his chin against Eli’s and snuggled his nose into Eli’s ear, his purr pitching to a squeak. Adorable. Heart-melting. He pressed his face into Lavi. He’d leave a few tears behind, but Lavi never seemed to mind.
Eli was human. That was the conclusion he’d reached each time he had that conversation. No doubt he was a sadist, but playing without consent twisted his stomach. The few times he’d misjudged a sub’s limits and he’d safeworded—those moments were burned into his brain. He’d dealt with the aftermath, talked it out, and made sure all was well. Then he’d come home and emptied the contents of his stomach into the nearest toilet.
You cared about those men, Eli.
He had. He hadn’t loved any, but there’d been affection there, a desire to shepherd them to the next stage in their kink—usually to a more permanent relationship with a suitable partner.
Justin was different.
He couldn’t pinpoint the moment when Justin had morphed from someone he wanted to fuck into the man he wanted to wake up next to. Make breakfast for. Share bits of his life with. It was insane. Or wonderful. Terrifying.
Exhaustion finally plowed into Eli’s bones. Bed, next to Justin: that’s where he belonged, at least for this night. They’d figure out the rest a day at a time.
Eli scratched Lavi’s head. “You always say the right things.”
Lavi’s bashed his head against Eli’s nose before he hopped to the floor, tail in the air, purr still resounding. He headed for the kitchen.
“If you think you’re getting food now, you’re quite mistaken.”
