Latest gay erotic stories: Safe Deposit – Chapter 6
Author: Transverse
“Is it all about stamina?” Thomas planted a kiss on his shoulder. “Fast can be fun, too.”
“Not for me.”
He scoffed. “You didn’t enjoy that?”
“That’s beside the point.”
“Whether you enjoyed it beside the point?”
He sighed. “Okay, I liked it, okay? Are you happy?”
“Yes.” He stifled a laugh. “But why would you avoid what you want?”
The question forced his mind back to the coaster under the water glass.
“Sometimes what you want isn’t what’s best for you.” He recognized it now, finally remembered where he’d seen it before. Why this whole escapade had rattled him so damn much. “Sometimes what you want can hurt you.”
Sam’s eyes burned. He wanted to stop talking, but he also wanted to keep talking. He wondered bitterly if he would ever quit being so conflicted. Harold’s fucking box was going to land him in a 72-hour hold.
He managed to keep from turning into a blubbering mess by taking shallow breaths, but it was a close thing.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Thomas said, “but we are not talking about head anymore, right? This is about something else?”
A cough of laughter escaped his chest, and Sam found himself pressing backward into the embrace.
“Yeah,” he said. “That last part was definitely not about head.”
“Good.” The relief in his voice made Sam want to laugh again. “Because we really, really have to do that again.”
Sam knew he was finished for at least twelve hours, but just the mention of it was enough to make him want to try anyway. He could do it, lose himself in fucking Thomas, but the coaster in front of his face reminded him of what temporary relief it would bring. The keys and he knitting would be there no matter what.
His vision blurred and he let out a long sigh. Thomas didn’t react except to hold him tighter.
“She must have really loved these things.” He could barely hear his own voice. “There were a lot of them. In our apartment. I used to play with them. They…they were blankets for when my toys went to sleep.”
He was trembling. How could he have forgotten these? It was as clear as day now — most of the ones in the house had been green with a white star in the middle, but some were red with white stars. She had kept those in a drawer. He wasn’t supposed to play with those.
“What happened to them?”
It wasn’t the question he was expecting, and the surprise helped him to get a grip on himself.
“I don’t know.” It was true. When his grandparents had come to get him, he didn’t remember if they’d taken any stuff with them. He had been pretty hungry by the time they came. He remembered that. “I…”
He couldn’t speak for a few minutes, but Thomas didn’t press.
“She just…didn’t come back.” His voice was so raw he almost didn’t recognize it. “It was one of these old brick apartments, and you had to go downstairs when someone buzzed for you. I remember…”
Thomas shifted behind him; Sam could feel his hair sliding around on his back.
“Someone came.” Everyone said he must have imagined it, remembered wrong, but he hadn’t. “Someone rang the buzzer thing. And she went down the stairs to open it. But she didn’t come back up again. I waited, but…”
“She didn’t come back,” Thomas echoed. It was incredible, hearing someone else say it, having someone believe him.
“Nope.”
“You looked for her, though. Later.” It wasn’t a question.
“She’s dead.”
He thought it would destroy him to say it out loud, but it was easy. His grandparents hadn’t wanted to talk about it; they insisted she had abandoned him, had run away, couldn’t handle being a single mom. He had tried to tell them, tried to get them to see, but they refused to even listen. Maybe it was easier for them, to think she ran away.
“You don’t know for sure, though.” Another non-question. “It’s why you were reading those o — ”
“She hasn’t had any credit card activity, no new address, no bank accounts, no P.O. box. Nothing. She left the car outside. Left her purse inside.”
He shut his eyes tight and listened to Thomas’s breathing.
“So she’s dead.” Thomas was breathing on his back and the warm puffs were tethering him to the world. “Bodies?”
“Too many. Too much decomposition. Mutilated faces. She could be any one of them.” After a while, he couldn’t handle reading about bodies that had turned up around the Pittsburgh area, reading what had happened to them. It was too much. He knew they might be able to find her now, with DNA, but he couldn’t bring himself to go down that road. “Or none of them.”
“I’m sorry.”
As he started to shake, he thought to himself what simple words they were, how easy they were to say without meaning them. But Thomas did mean them. He could feel that, even under everything else he could feel.
He never did turn to face Thomas, but it didn’t matter.
Thomas didn’t let go.
*****
He woke to find Thomas gone.
The bed was strange and cold without him, and for a long moment, Sam lay there wishing he’d come back. It was insane. They’d just met. He knew more about Thomas’s cock than he knew about Thomas. But it had been so long — too long — since he’d felt anything as strongly as this. It was like he’d been asleep for years, and now he was awake. And even a less than perfect view was a nice change from the back of his eyelids.
He rolled over and winced; the sheets couldn’t have a thread count higher than four. Thomas had turned the light off and the room was pitch black. Sam hated the darkness; he left his bathroom light on at home when he went to bed, pathetic as that was. He wondered about that now, if it had anything to do with the whole…mother thing.
The Mother Thing. He wondered if that was a good name for it, since his mind had been forced into acknowledging it after trying to forget for so long. It had consumed his entire life until he left high school, and one day he’d just decided he was tired of being broken. Fuck the mother thing. He could forget about it, put it behind him.
I wouldn’t matter.
But it had mattered, clearly. It had gone right on mattering underneath it all, and now it had exploded his life — again. He’d been stupid to think he could get away from it, that he could just…be a person who didn’t know his own mom. That he was beyond it.
He saw now that he’d never get beyond it. His job was all about looking for missing people. His hobbies included finding lost pets and volunteering at the Center for Missing and Exploited Children. His missing — dead — mother was the entirety of who he was.
He chuckled darkly to himself.
Beyond it.
What a bad joke.
He felt tears stinging his fucking eyes again and threw the covers off, standing up. It was cold; the heating vent must have been blocked by something. He bent over, fumbling around for the lamp and turned it on.
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