Between Sinners And Saints

  Levi had assumed Jaime would come over again on Sunday, just as he'd done on the nights Levi was working. He was disappointed when the evening passed with no sign of him, but Monday afternoon was his regular massage appointment. He could tell Jaime hadn't slept well just by looking into his blue eyes.

  "Where were you last night?" he asked as Jaime moved around and started to massage his arm.

  Jaime seemed surprised by the question. "I was home."

  "I thought you'd come over."

  Jaime started to blush. He kept his gaze on his work, as he often did, rather than making eye contact. "It's one thing for me to use your apartment while you're working, but you don't want to put up with me on your nights off, too."

  "You know that for a fact, do you?" Levi asked. Jaime smiled, but didn't answer. "So you plan on not sleeping again until Thursday night when I go back to work?"

  Jaime managed to blush a bit more. "I'll be okay."

  "I'm your last client, right?"

  Jaime seemed reluctant to answer, but finally nodded. "That's right."

  "Let me take you out, then you can come over."

  "Out where?" Jaime asked with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

  "Anywhere."

  Jaime had finished with his upper body, and Levi could see him debating as he performed his magic trick with the sheet, leaving one of Levi's legs exposed. Finally he asked, "Do you like Torchwood?"

  "Is that a restaurant?"

  Jaime laughed. "No. It's a TV show."

  "Never seen it."

  "One of my clients loaned me the boxed set of season two. I could go by KFC on my way to your place."

  It took Levi a second to figure out what Jaime was saying. He didn't want to go out. But he did want to come over. He was deliberately not making eye contact again and he was blushing. Again. Levi couldn't help but think how damn cute he was when he did that.

  "It's just a suggestion," Jaime said nervously, and Levi realized he still hadn't answered.

  "It sounds great," he said.

  Torchwood turned out to be a bit too cheesy for Levi's tastes, but then again, he was quickly realizing just about everything Jaime enjoyed was. He remembered the first night they'd gone out, when he'd mentioned going to a movie. Jaime had said, "Nothing heavy. Nothing sappy or sad." It seemed Jaime had dealt with enough drama already. He didn't want to be subjected to more. But melodrama seemed to suit him just fine.

  They had fun together. It was a mellow, friendly, Boy Scout kind of fun. It was very much the kind of fun Levi might have had with his brothers once upon a time, and being with Jaime made him realize how much he missed it. He'd spent so many years telling himself he didn't need it, but Levi couldn't deny how much he enjoyed it. At some point during episode five--or maybe episode six; Levi had lost count--he looked over to find Jaime asleep on the other end of the couch.

  "Come on, kid," he said, gently tapping the back of Jaime's hand with his finger. He didn't think Jaime would appreciate being touched any more than that. "Wake up."

  Jaime's eyes drifted open. "I should go home."

  "No," Levi said, "but you should go to bed. Come on." He took Jaime's hand and pulled him off the couch. He started to lead him down the hall, but Jaime stopped suddenly, bringing him up short.

  "Why are you doing this?" he asked when Levi turned to look at him. "I won't sleep with you."

  Jaime's assumption he had an agenda annoyed him. And yet, it wasn't as if his suspicions were unjustified. "I'm not looking to get laid," Levi said. "I just want you to be able to rest. That's all. I won't touch you."

  Jaime's eyes were tired, but wary. "Why?"

  "Because," Levi told him, "we're friends." The words seemed to confuse Jaime, but Levi could also see him wavering. "It's okay, Jaime," Levi said. "Let me take care of you."

  And when Levi tugged his hand again, Jaime followed. Levi made a point of looking through his closet for nothing in particular while Jaime undressed, then he heard Jaime sigh as he settled down into the bed.

  "Don't sleep on the couch, Levi," he mumbled. "It's bad for your back."

  That was true, of course. "I won't," he said, and he meant it. Sleeping on the couch didn't sound a bit appealing. Then again, sleeping next to Jaime was bound to prove trying in other ways.

  Jaime was asleep by the time Levi finished brushing his teeth, and Levi climbed into the empty side of the bed. That night was difficult. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about the soft warm body on the other side of the bed. He ended up jacking off in his bathroom, then sleeping on the couch until three in the morning, when he finally managed to return to his own bed.

  Tuesday night was better. He stayed up late, and by the time he climbed into bed, he wasn't awake long enough to obsess about Jaime. But Wednesday was the worst.

  He managed to fall asleep next to Jaime without much trouble, but he woke a few hours later. Jaime had kicked the covers off them both, but had drifted in his sleep toward the warmth of Levi's body. Levi could feel Jaime against his back. Jaime wasn't tight up against him, not spooning, but he seemed to be curled in a ball against Levi's back. Levi could feel his breath on the back of his neck, and it felt unbelievably good.

  He debated rolling over and trying to make something happen, but knew right away it was a bad idea. He had promised not to hit on Jaime, and Jaime trusted him. He couldn't violate that trust now. But the longer he lay there, feeling Jaime behind him, the more aroused he became.

  He sat up quickly, thinking maybe he'd sleep on the couch after all, but his sudden movement cause Jaime to stir. Jaime's eyes opened a crack and he seemed to realize he wasn't on his own side. He mumbled something that might have been an apology, although it sounded suspiciously like "Captain Jack," then rolled over, back to his own side of the bed, and went back to sleep. If he'd ever really been awake to begin with.

  Levi lay back down. But he knew he wasn't going to sleep. He couldn't take his eyes off Jaime.

  Jaime's back was to him. He wore only boxers. He had rolled forward from his side so he was mostly on his stomach, and his position accentuated the arc of his back. His boxers had ridden up one leg, revealing the curve at the top of his thigh. Levi couldn't help but think of the things he couldn't see: Jaime's ass, which had always appealed to him, a little rounder than some, and probably soft and pale. Levi pictured it with very little hair. Maybe a bit on the lower part of his cheeks, where they rounded into his taint. The hair would be faint and sparse and red, just as it was on his chest.

  Levi's hand drifted down to his own engorged cock. It was wrong to want Jaime this much. Or was it? He didn't want to hurt him. He didn't want to take advantage of him. But he very much wanted to be intimate with him.

  He eyed Jaime's smooth back and the tempting swell of his ass inside his shorts, and he knew he needed to do something about the sweet ache in his groin. He debated going to the bathroom to do it, but he couldn't quite make himself do it. He couldn't seem to pull his eyes away from Jaime.

  He reached down and pushed his briefs out of the way. Simply freeing his erection from his shorts gave him a bit of relief. But not enough. He didn't want to sleep in a wet spot, though, so he reached behind himself, off the side of the bed, and found his discarded T-shirt on the floor. He wrapped it around his cock and started to stroke.

  He went slowly, in part because he didn't want to shake the bed and risk waking Jaime. But it was also because his fantasy of Jaime felt slow and erotic. When he'd thought of seducing Jaime back when they'd first met, he'd thought of bending Jaime over his massage table and fucking him hard. He'd thought of driving into him, quick and raw and as impersonal as his encounters at the club.

  But this time was different.

  He imagined feeling Jaime's skin, waking him with gentle caresses. He imagined kissing him, first the back of his neck, then his chest, and finally his soft, pink lips. He imagined running his hands up Jaime's pale thighs. He imagined the tender flesh on the inside of those thighs, high
up, between Jaime's legs. He imagined himself on his knees in front of Jaime, sucking his cock. He imaged Jaime's hands tangled in his hair. He imagined the sounds Jaime might make. Through it all, he stroked himself, stifling his moans, trying to still his quickened breathing. He imagined pushing into Jaime. Not thrusting hard. Not driving home. But looking down into his gorgeous blue eyes as he slowly worked his way inside. He imagined Jaime's legs wrapped around his waist, and seeing Jaime's face flushed with desire, his eyes closed, his head thrown back.

  He worked himself, stroking toward his climax. He didn't examine what his fantasies meant, if they meant anything at all. He only knew it felt unbelievably good. He couldn't remember when he'd found so much satisfaction masturbating. When he finally came, pumping into his soiled shirt, his face buried in his pillow to keep from making a noise, it felt like a dam bursting, and it took him a long time to catch his breath.

  And on the other side of the bed, Jaime slept on.

  Chapter 18

  Levi was relieved to go back to work on Thursday. He felt a bit guilty for what he'd done the night before. It was harmless, he knew, but it had been incredibly satisfying, and he knew if he'd had to sleep next to Jaime another night, he would have wanted to do it again. And doing it a second time somehow felt wrong.

  Both Friday and Saturday morning, he returned from work to find Jaime asleep in his bed. Both mornings he'd locked himself in the bathroom for a quick wank, and by the time he'd emerged, Jaime was awake and halfway dressed, urging Levi to go to bed.

  On Saturday, Jaime actually came over earlier than normal, and they ordered pizza and watched a bad movie on Syfy before Levi left for work. Levi faced his shift at the club with more dread than he normally did.

  "What ever happened with the guy?" Max asked him midway through the night.

  "What guy?" Levi asked as he mixed a drink for a skinny twink wearing pink, feathered wings and glittery eyeliner.

  "The guy...the one you couldn't nail!"

  It took Levi a minute to realize Max was talking about Jaime, and Levi felt his cheeks flush. Now that he knew Jaime, he felt bad for ever having had that particular conversation with Max at all. "Nothing," he said. "It's over."

  "It's over, as in you fucked him?"

  "No," Levi said. "'It's over' as in we're friends. That's all."

  "Friends? Like, with or without benefits?"

  "Without." Decidedly without the particular benefits Max was alluding to. Unfortunately.

  "So you got a boyfriend now or what?" Max asked.

  "Max, when have you ever known me to have a boyfriend?" Because the one time Levi had tried had been before Max had worked at The Zone. And even so, the effort he'd put into his "relationship" had been pathetically weak. He'd liked fucking guys at the club a hell of a lot more than he'd liked playing house with Lance.

  Max shook his head. "You must have something on the side, man. You haven't been with anybody all weekend."

  The statement shocked Levi. Was it true? No, that couldn't be right. Certainly he'd been with somebody on Thursday, right? He must have been, although he couldn't recall any specifics. And Friday? Well, they'd been awfully busy at the bar. Still, surely he'd made time to visit the storage room. Or had he?

  "Levi! What the fuck, man?" Max yelled, startling Levi out of his thoughts, and he realized he'd poured about five shots worth of vodka into the rocks glass in front of him. It was about to run over the edge. He put the bottle down. He stared at the glass.

  A voice in the back of his brain told him he needed to do something about it. The man on the other side of the bar watched him with obvious confusion. But Levi was still thinking. He hadn't been with anyone the last two nights? The thought seemed to short-circuit his thinking completely. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened. Maybe because it never had.

  "Dude," the guy waiting for his drink said, "is that my drink or what? You didn't leave room for the OJ."

  "Sorry," Levi said, shaking himself out of his daze. He quickly mixed a new drink in a new glass, and when the guy was gone, Levi picked up the too-full glass and drained half of it in one swallow.

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  He scanned the men around the bar. The night was still young, after all. But as the hours of his shift drifted by, Levi had to admit there was nobody he wanted to fuck at the club tonight. Lots of twinks and fairies, most of whom he assumed were college students, and a few bears. Quite a few of the guys Levi thought of as standard gay men--the ones who didn't fall into any specific stereotype, wearing khakis or jeans, polos and Ts. There was Jon or Josh or Joe--Levi still didn't know his name. There were men, yes. Some of them cute. Many of them willing. But none he felt compelled to fuck, or even to let suck his cock, and so for the first time in his ten years at the club, Levi went an entire weekend at work without once visiting the back room.

  * * * *

  If Levi thought the week before had been bad, the next week felt like absolute torture. It was his own fault. He didn't just invite Jaime over each night. He insisted Jaime come over. He'd practically coerce Jaime into spending the night. And then he'd lie there, watching Jaime sleep, cursing his own arousal and his inability to do anything about it.

  Sunday night he told himself to grow up. He needed to get his hormones under control. He had promised himself, for some reason he couldn't quite accept, that he was going to take care of Jaime, which apparently meant he needed to get used to having Jaime in his bed. He told himself he wasn't going to resort to jacking off each and every night before going to bed to do it.

  His resolution lasted until early Monday morning, when he woke so painfully erect and aroused, he was surprised he hadn't come in his sleep. He thought with some reservation about how embarrassing that would have been. He went in the bathroom and did what needed to be done. Monday night he found himself in the bathroom again, frantically trying to alleviate his arousal. Tuesday he stayed in the bed, opting instead to gratify himself while watching Jaime sleep. But it wasn't the same the second time. Nor was it as good on Wednesday night. He could not seem to reach the same level of satisfaction he'd felt the first time he'd done it.

  He was extremely relieved to return to work on Thursday. Jacking off definitely wasn't cutting it. He needed to get laid, and he made up his mind before he even clocked in that he was visiting the back room at least once that night.

  But as the night wore on, he found himself becoming frustrated. The men who were willing to bend over or open their mouths for him seemed unsatisfactory. They were too big or too rough, too young or too old. And by the time he rode his bike home, he was as frustrated as he'd been at the beginning of his shift.

  Friday arrived along with a fall thunderstorm. Lightning crackled outside. The air felt charged. The crowd was thin. Levi watched the crowd, looking for...

  Looking for red curls and creamy white skin. Looking for a Boy Scout face that hid Freddy Krueger's sense of humor. Looking for a person he would never, ever see at The Zone.

  He cursed himself. He told himself he was a fool. He told himself sex was sex, and whatever he may feel for Jaime had nothing to do with it. But the truth was, it did. And for the second weekend in a row, he abstained.

  He felt it was the right thing to do, but he couldn't say why. He wished it were easier. He worried it couldn't last.

  And he was right.

  * * * *

  The third week of Jaime staying with him took him to the edge. He couldn't blame Jaime. The truth was, he loved being with him, even if all they did most nights was watch TV. He loved his dry humor and his shy blushes. Every night, he convinced Jaime to stay. And every night, he felt his patience running out.

  He gave up any self-delusion this was about being a friend. He wanted Jaime. He wanted him in a way he never would have believed possible. He wanted him in a way that seemed to blot out all reason and scramble his mind. He longed for him each and every night. And Jaime seemed oblivious.

  By Monday night, h
e was back to sleeping on the couch, and when Jaime asked why, Levi claimed insomnia. Jaime bought it that night, but when Levi gave the same flimsy excuse the next two nights, he could see Jaime didn't believe him. Levi hated lying to him, but he couldn't tell him that, even though he was the one who had convinced him to stay, he really, really needed him to go.

  By the time Saturday rolled around, Levi was a mess. There was simply no other way to put it. If he'd been on edge earlier in the week, he was now tipping perilously over the side. That, by some cruel twist of fate, was when he got the call.

  "Hey, Leviticus, how's life?"

  He hadn't spoken to anybody in his family, even Ruth, since Labor Day weekend. He found time hadn't eased his anger. Not one bit. "Fine," was all he said.

  "Levi, please don't tell me you're still mad."

  "Of course not. You convince me to go home for the weekend and the entire family attacks me. Again. Why in the world would I be mad?"

  "Don't be melodramatic. We did not attack you."

  "Call it what you want. Doesn't change the facts."

  "You know, Levi, you bring this on yourself. Did you even hear what Caleb said to you? For some of us, it's not about you being gay. It's about--"

  "My goddamn 'lifestyle.' I know! Christ, Ruth, I've only heard you say it a million times!"

  She stopped, and he knew she was waiting for him to calm down before she tried again. "Are you still working at the club?"

  "Yes."

  "Still having sex with different guys every night?"

  "Yes."

  "And you think that's a valid way to live? You think we have no right to be worried?"

  "I think I have to go, Ruth. But I'll tell you what. Go ahead and pretend like I feel enlightened, if it'll make you feel better."

  "Levi--"

  "'Bye!"

  He slammed his phone shut and resisted the urge to throw it across the room. It never ended. The expectations and the judgment would always be there.

  He'd lied to Ruth, of course. The truth was, he hadn't sex with anyone in nearly three weeks. He'd never gone so long without some kind of sexual contact in all of his years in Miami. But he hadn't wanted to tell her that. He hadn't wanted to hear the triumph in her voice. He didn't want her to think she'd won some kind of victory. Because she hadn't. He was still the same guy he'd always been. The guy who wasn't good enough for his perfect goddamn family of saints.