Marie Sexton - Between Sinners And Saints (13 page)

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, he 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.

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.

He was midway through what could arguably have been called the most frustrating shift of his life when Max elbowed him in the ribs.

Max nodded his head toward the end of the bar. A man stood there, his eyes issuing Levi a blatant invitation. He wore black leather pants and biker boots. A leather harness made an X across his broad, bare chest.

“His name’s Jory,” Max said.
“I don’t care.”
“I know. He’s a hell of a bottom.”
“I don’t care about that either.”
Max looked at him in surprise. “Since when?”
Levi slammed the register shut so hard it shook the bar,

knocking the tip jar over.
“Damn, Levi,” Max said as he righted it. “You’re wound up so
fucking tight right now, you’re making
me
nervous. You need to
get laid.”
“You’re full of shit.” But he knew as he said it that he didn’t
sound very convincing. The truth was, he couldn’t remember being
so sexually frustrated since his days at BYU trying to be straight.
“I’m fine.” His words were little more than a growl.
“Yeah, so fine you bite the head off anyone who comes within
three feet of you.”
Levi sighed in frustration, but couldn’t think of what he should
say. He looked again at the guy in the harness. Jory leaned against
the wall. His eyes were dark and sultry. He rubbed his hand over
the bulge in his leather pants, and Levi almost moaned aloud. He
turned away.
“What the hell you waiting for, Levi?” Max asked. “I just don’t want to. That’s all.”
“What do you mean, you don’t want to? Since when do you
not
want to get your wick wet? You sick or something?”
Levi bit back his annoyance. “He’s not my type.”
“Your
type?
Let’s see. He’s male. Between the ages of legal
and fifty. Has a pulse. He’s a bottom.” Max ticked his points off on
his fingers. “Oh, yeah—and he’s practically beggin’ you to fuck
him. How the hell is he
not
your type?”
“Jesus, Max, why the fuck do you care?”
“’Cause you’re being a surly, fucking asshole, Levi!” Max
snapped. “You need to come so bad, I can practically smell it.
You’re driving me fucking nuts, man.”
Just the thought of being able to come with somebody else
again made his knees weak and his hands shake. Levi felt his
resolve slipping. Max was right—he did need it. The ache in his
balls had reached an all-new level of discomfort. He didn’t know
why he was trying to deny it.
Max seemed to sense he was waffling because he said, “I’ve
been with him before. He’s flexible. Put him on his back, you can
push his legs up by his ears if you want.”
That mental image, and the accompanying flush of arousal,
were undeniable. The man in question
was
hot. He crooked his
finger at Levi.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to prove,” Max said.
“You seriously trying to tell me you don’t want to nail that?” In the blink of an eye, Levi knew he was right. He fell away
from whatever he’d been trying to be, and there in front of him was
who he
was
: the Levi who fucked a different guy in the back room
every week. Every
night
if he could. The Levi who never looked
back. This was what he did. Despite everything his sister and his
mother and his father wanted of him. Or maybe
because
of what
they wanted.
Like Max was reading his mind, he said suddenly, “It’s who
you are, man. It’s who you’ve been as long as I’ve known you.
Quit fighting it. Go bend that bitch in half and fuck him ’til he
can’t stand anymore.” He elbowed Levi in the ribs. “He’ll thank
you for it when you’re done, I promise.”
Levi
did
want it. Everything from the last few weeks hit him—
lying on the couch night after night wanting Jaime but not having
him, jacking off in his bathroom like a goddamn teenager again.
His sister and his mother and his father and his brothers all telling
him what he should do with his life. And what he
shouldn’t.
And now Max, egging him on. He was filled with a frightening dark hostility that was equal parts frustration and rage and lust. He’d been trying to hold it down, trying to keep it in check. It was a blackness—not evil, but something dark and erotic and purely primal. It welled up in him. It made his skin tingle and his pulse race. It made his cock hard. His vision narrowed to a single point:
a man in a leather harness with a wicked glint in his eye. Jory was watching him and a slow grin spread across his face.
He turned and headed for the back room. And Levi followed. The guy was prepared. His leather pants had snaps down the
side, and once the door to the storage room was locked, he pulled
them off, leaving only the leather harness, leather boots, and a very
erect cock. Levi felt the blackness filling him, practically blocking
his vision as his blood roared in his veins and his cock strained
against his pants. Jory could see the blackness, too. Levi could tell.
Not only that, but he liked it. His eyes drifted halfway closed and
he fell to his knees.
“Do anything you want,” he said, his voice thick with arousal.
“I’m ready for you.”
Levi didn’t hesitate. He undid his pants as he stepped closer.
Jory opened his mouth, and Levi shoved his aching cock into that
wet, warm abyss. He went slowly, pushing in deep, savoring the
feel of Jory’s mouth as it slid up his length, until Jory’s nose was
buried deep in his pubic hair. It was so good to finally feel it. After
denying himself for so long without even knowing why, the
pleasure of pushing himself deep into Jory’s mouth was
unbelievably gratifying. He pulled out and thrust in again, faster.
Why had he ever tried to say no? He wanted to fuck Jory. He
wanted to fuck him hard. He
needed
to fuck him. He needed to
make him beg and cry and squirm. The blackness filled him, pouring out of him, saturating him and Jory and the whole fucking
room. And it wanted
more.
He grabbed Jory’s hair with both hands and fucked his mouth
as hard as he could, but it wasn’t enough. He leaned the back of
Jory’s head against the edge of the table so he couldn’t pull away
and he thrust as far as he could, wanting to fill Jory and choke him
and make him swallow the blackness. Jory took it all, moaning in
pleasure, his face flushed with desire. He beat his own cock with
one hand and gripped Levi’s ass with the other, guiding him in
faster. His fingernails dug into the cheek of Levi’s ass, scratching,
and Levi heard himself cry out. It was a sudden, sweet pain, and it
made him frantic.
He pulled away. He grabbed Jory’s harness and yanked him to
his feet, and he did as Max had suggested. He pushed him back on
the table. He pushed his knees toward his ears and drove into him,
with only Jory’s saliva on his cock to ease the way. Jory was tight
and hot and the lack of lubricant made it even better, and God, he
didn’t know when an ass had ever felt so fucking good. And yet it
still wasn’t enough. The blackness in him wanted more. He
couldn’t fuck hard enough or fast enough to satisfy the rage that
filled him. Jory held his own knees up, and Levi grabbed onto his
leather harness and slammed into him harder.
“Oh fuck, yes. More, more,
more!
” Jory yelled out. And for the first time ever, Levi wished he
had
more. He
wanted to beat Jory and hurt him and come on him and come in
him. He wanted to pour all of his blackness into him and have him
take it all and more. He wanted to fuck every part of him at once,
drive into his tight ass, and deep into his throat, and come on his
face. He wanted to push him down and use him. He wanted to
abuse him. And then he wanted to do it again.
“Oh God,
yes!
” Jory cried, and he started to come without even
a hand on his cock. His channel tightened around Levi’s cock as he
shot his load onto his stomach, and the blackness in Levi exploded.
He came hard, slamming into Jory, trying to push deeper. Trying to
find the satisfaction he longed for.
But it wasn’t there.
“Holy shit, that was awesome,” Jory said, collapsing back onto
the table. “You’re way better than Max.”
Levi closed his eyes, fighting the rage, the disappointment and
the self-loathing threatening to choke him. He hadn’t even used a
condom, something he’d never done before. He pulled away from
Jory, covering his face, trying to find his center. Trying to
remember this was
okay.
There was no reason to think it was
wrong.
Except it
was.
He put his hands on his knees and bent over, fighting the
sudden urge to be sick.
“You okay, man?” Jory asked, and Levi opened his eyes. He
took a deep breath to steady himself. He made himself stand up.
He forced himself to smile.
“Fine. Thanks.” He started to do up his pants, although his
shaking hands made it difficult. He had to get out—out of the back
room and out of The Zone and out of his own damn head. “I have
to go.”
“I’ll give you my number if you want it. No strings. You can
call anytime you want to fuck me again—”
“Maybe later.” Levi knew as he said the words how weak they
sounded, but he didn’t care. “I have to get back.”
He didn’t remember walking back to the bar. There was a
roaring in his head, and the world spun around him like some kind of crazy carnival ride. The kind of ride that had always made him
sick.
“Good, isn’t he?” Max asked, but Levi barely heard him. He worked the rest of his shift in a daze, oscillating between
blinding rage and near crippling self-disgust. Max kept glancing at
him out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t try to talk to him the
rest of the night. Levi was glad.
He left an hour before his shift was over. He didn’t care if he
got in trouble. He didn’t care if he got fired.
He rode his bike home, driving like a mad man. He knew he
was driving too fast, taking too many risks, but he didn’t care. He
could only think about one thing: getting his board and losing
himself in the ocean. He almost hoped it would be for good.