Blind Faith

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Blind Faith ISBN 9781419914645 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Blind Faith Copyright © 2008 Claire Thompson Edited by Mary Moran. Cover art by Syneca. Electronic book Publication April 2008 With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/) This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

BLIND FAITH

Claire Thompson

Acknowledgement Dedicated to Katharina, my muse from across the seas.

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Velcro: Velcro Industries B.V. Limited Liability Company

Blind Faith

Chapter One Headlights blinded him seconds before the truck smashed into his car door. Pain ricocheted through his bones. Time seemed to stop as the car hurtled toward the guardrail, smashing through as its metal body twisted and bent like a child’s toy. Shards of glass splintered the air, flying toward his face and chest as he howled a silent cry of terror… Aidan lurched up in his bed, drenched with sweat. When his heart stopped thrashing in his chest, he stood and, counting his steps, made his way to the bathroom. The cool water felt good on his face. Bending down, he stuck his head under the faucet, letting it sluice over his unkempt hair. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the days stretched so long in front of him now, sometimes he lay down just as a way to pass the time. The nightmares had been coming less frequently but still had the power to grip him long after waking, leaving him shaken and sick. Returning to his bedroom, he touched the button on the talking clock beside the bed. A pleasant female voice informed him it was three thirty-three p.m. His cell phone rang a moment later. It was too early for his mother’s daily call. Probably a wrong number. “Hello?” “Hey, Aidan! How’s the sexiest guy this side of the Atlantic? Did you miss me?” Though it had been nearly a year, he’d know that voice anywhere. The image of cinnamon brown eyes, dark wavy hair and the tall, lean swimmer’s body slid to his mind’s eye from where he kept it tucked in a corner of his heart. “Zane,” he said softly. “One and the same. Returned from across the ocean. I got back from France last night.” 5

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Zane Wilde, his on-again, off-again lover over the years, the one he’d secretly loved far more than he’d ever let on to anyone, especially Zane, was home. Zane was a free spirit who blew in and out of Aidan’s life, always brightening it, but rarely for long. Zane had wanderlust, not to mention a wandering eye. Aidan had come to accept his penchant for taking off at a moment’s notice—flying to Italy to participate in a swimming competition or accepting the offer of a man he’d just met to housesit for him in the south of France. He rarely worked a steady job, instead living on a shoestring and his considerable charm. Aidan had learned to accept Zane on Zane’s terms, or so he told himself. Sometimes he wondered if the reason he’d never hooked up with anyone for any kind of long-term relationship was because he was waiting for Zane to finally come home to him for good. Now of course, it was too late. “I thought I’d come by if you’re free. I’ve missed you.” Zane’s tone dipped as he said the last three words, their sound a caress, an invitation. It was obvious he didn’t know. “Zane, it’s good to hear your voice,” Aidan tried to keep his tone light, though he was dying inside. Before the accident, he would have been thrilled to learn Zane was back in town, however brief his visit might be. Even now his cock stirred from its usual slumber, his heart pumping at the sound of Zane’s sexy voice. Bitterness, his constant companion over the last year, oozed into his bloodstream. Zane would never want him now. Forcing himself to get it over with, he said, “I guess you didn’t hear. I’ve been in an accident. A car accident.” “Oh my god! Are you okay? When did it happen?” “Just after you left the last time. I’m okay. I mean, I’m alive. I was beat up pretty bad. The bones mended but my eyes…” he paused, his tongue suddenly thick in his mouth. The last vestige of the fantasy that somehow, someday Zane and he would end up together as life partners slipped away like a fog beneath the glare of reality. “I’m blind, Zane. It’s permanent.”

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Since the accident, Aidan had been determined to rebuild his life, forcing himself to endure painful physical therapy as his broken body mended itself and attending a facility for the newly blind so he could learn to live independently. The settlement he’d received from the accident ensured he would never need to work again, but he lived modestly, only spending money on items that enabled him to live alone with some degree of independence. He knew he should be grateful to be alive. He’d lost his job in construction for obvious reasons but was training to translate audio books into Braille, work he could do at home. Mostly he was grateful, except when the loneliness of his self-imposed exile stretched before him like a great gray chasm of emptiness. For who would want him any longer? He would be a burden to anyone foolish enough to get involved with him. And that he refused to be. The only thing worse than being alone, he thought, was being pitied. While in the hospital, Peter, his lover at the time, had been in to visit him often at first. When it became clear Aidan wasn’t going to bounce back any time soon, and that his optic nerves had been severed beyond repair, Peter faded away. Aidan couldn’t really blame him. It wasn’t as if they’d been in love. “Aidan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…” “It’s okay. Look, I’ve got to go—” “No! I’m coming over. I want to see you. Please.” “Zane, I really think it’s better if—” “Aidan, stop it. I can hear the wheels turning in that stubborn head of yours. That pride thing that always kept you so aloof, so careful to avoid getting hurt. Cut it out. I want to see you, damn it! I’ve missed you! I’m sorry I didn’t stay in touch, but you know me. I get distracted.” He gave a small, apologetic laugh. Zane never kept in touch—in a way it was part of his charm. Suddenly he would appear like a burst of warm sunlight, and until that moment Aidan wouldn’t have realized he was living in the dark. Now the dark was perpetual, a darkness even Zane could never dispel. 7

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“Give me your address. I know you’re not in those apartments anymore. I stopped by hoping to surprise you. Come on, Aidan. I have to see you.” Aidan sighed. He’d never been able to resist Zane. Why should things be different now? “Twenty-seven Highland Avenue. Second house on the right.”

***** Aidan Byrne, blind. Zane tried to get his mind around the concept as he drove toward Aidan’s new neighborhood. He’d thought about Aidan a lot while he’d been in Europe. He’d even considered calling but had never managed to pull it off. He preferred to connect with people in real time—to reappear in their lives when they least expected it. The last time they’d been together Aidan had quietly asked what they were doing. Zane had pretended not to understand. He knew Aidan was in love with him, knew he wanted more than Zane had felt at the time able to give. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Aidan—he’d always loved Aidan. It was a resistance to the conventional, to “settling down” with any one person. He had laughed, reminding Aidan of his gypsy blood just before he slipped away. The past year though, something had seemed to shift inside him. The glittering attraction of a new man in every port, of adventure with no strings, had begun to tarnish. At twenty-eight, Zane sometimes found himself questioning his gypsy lifestyle. Sometimes, especially over the last few months, he’d begun to yearn for something more permanent in his life. Naturally his thoughts had turned to Aidan. Deep down he’d always known he’d return to Aidan one day. It honestly hadn’t occurred to him Aidan might not be there. He pulled up in front of Aidan’s house and walked to the front door. He pressed the doorbell and stepped back to wait. In a moment the door opened and there Aidan stood, his auburn hair longer than when Zane had last seen him, curling down the back of his neck. He looked thinner—his clothing hanging loosely on his frame, his wrists

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bony. Zane was glad for an instant Aidan couldn’t see his reaction as he studied his face. Shock gripped him as he noted the drawn look in his expression that bespoke of a long-gnawing pain or sorrow. He looked into Aidan’s eyes, for a moment afraid of what he would see there. They were the same frosty, sparkling blue, the color of a lake beneath a winter sky, but the focus seemed blurred, somehow off-kilter. The pale line of a thin white scar ran in a diagonal from the outer corner of his left eye to his mouth. Tears sprang to Zane’s eyes at the thought of what Aidan must have gone through. He wanted to touch the scar—to trace the line with his finger, but he sensed such a touch would not be welcome. He noted the resolute set of Aidan’s mouth, the rigid pride in his bearing. “Aidan. It’s me, Zane.” “I know,” Aidan said, a small smile flitting over his face. “Come in.” He stepped back, adding, “Welcome to my humble abode.” His voice was stiff, almost formal. Zane sensed Aidan needed to keep this distance between them, at least for now. He resisted his urge to wrap Aidan in his arms. Instead he lightly touched Aidan’s forearm. “What a great place! Is it yours?” Aidan stepped away from his touch. “Bought and paid for, courtesy of the drunk driver who plowed into my car.” Aidan tried to grin but didn’t quite succeed. “Aidan, I’m so sor—” Zane began. Aidan cut him off. “Can I get you a drink? I have beer and soda, or I could make some coffee.” Without waiting for a response, he made his way confidently through the room, veering left toward the kitchen. Zane noticed the slight limp in his left leg. “A beer sounds good,” Zane said, following him. As Aidan moved toward the refrigerator, Zane offered, “I’m impressed with the way you get around. You must have the whole place memorized in your head.” “I do, I guess. It’s easier living alone, I suppose. Nobody else to move things or leave something out of place to throw me off. At the rehab center sometimes they’d put obstacles in our way for just that reason—to get us used to the real world.” He held out 9

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a beer, waiting for Zane to take it. Their fingers touched and Zane felt the familiar kinetic energy zinging between them before Aidan pulled his hand away. “Aidan,” Zane said. “It’s me. I know you, remember? You don’t have to put on this stoic act. Put down your beer. Let me hold you.” Gently he took the beer from Aidan’s hand and set both cans on the counter. Taking Aidan into his arms, he pulled him close, gently pushing the shorter man’s head down to his shoulder. Aidan stood stiffly with his arms at his side, allowing himself to be embraced for a moment before attempting to pull away. Zane held him tighter and whispered, “I’m sorry this has happened to you. I’m sorry I was gone so long this time, but I’m here now. Don’t shut me out.” Slowly Aidan brought his arms around Zane, leaning his weight into him. Zane stroked his hair, relieved. After a moment Aidan’s shoulders began to shake, his breath coming in small, snuffling gasps. Zane realized he was crying. He held him tighter, crooning, “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe in my arms.” After several minutes Aidan pulled away, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Zane looked around for a box of tissues. Not seeing any, he used the tail of his shirt to wipe Aidan’s tearstained cheeks. “I guess the tear ducts still work,” Aidan said, his tone at once bitter and amused. He reached out, his fingers making contact with Zane’s chest. “Let’s go sit down, okay?” “Yeah,” Zane agreed, snagging their beer cans as they passed the counter. Once settled on the living room couch, he handed Aidan his beer and took a long drink of his own. “I haven’t cried like that for a long time,” Aidan said, cradling the can in his hands. He was hunched forward, his body turned away from Zane’s. Zane put his hand on Aidan’s knee and said softly, “Sometimes it’s good to cry. It seems to me you’ve been holding in a lot, huh? Do you have friends? A support network? A…” he hesitated, suddenly afraid to hear the answer, “lover?” 10

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“A lover!” Aidan spat. “Like anyone would want me now.” “Are you kidding me? You may have lost your sight but not your looks.” Zane waited for a smile but it didn’t appear. He plowed on. “How do you get around? Who shops for you? Who takes you to doctor appointments and for a haircut?” “My parents help out. And there’s a woman from the rehab facility—she comes by twice a week to take me shopping and run errands. I don’t,” he paused, and blew out a breath before continuing, “I don’t really have any friends. Not anymore.” “You’ve pushed them away,” Zane said, certain he was right. “Good thing I came back when I did. Here you are, barely twenty-seven, deciding to live like a hermit just because of some stupid accident.” “Zane, you can’t just come waltzing back into my life and fix everything with your big sunny smile and your charm.” “I can try,” Zane said, laughing. “Let me touch your face,” Aidan said suddenly. “What?” “I want to touch you. To see you with my fingers.” Intrigued, Zane twisted toward Aidan, who reached out, the tips of his fingers making contact on either side of Zane’s face. He stroked Zane’s cheekbones and slid a thumb over the bridge of his nose. He followed the line of his jaw upward to his eyelids. Aidan’s face was a mask of concentration, as if he were painting Zane’s features in his mind’s eye. His touch was delicate yet incredibly sensual. His lips were parted, his eyes glittering as he caressed Zane’s skin. Zane sat still as Aidan moved his hands over his head, curling his fingers into Zane’s hair, the gesture achingly intimate. Zane shivered, his body awakened by Aidan’s touch. Aidan’s fingers slid along his throat, moving down to press flat against his chest. He felt his nipples harden beneath Aidan’s palms. His cock was rigid, straining upward for attention.

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Unable to remain passive any longer, he pulled Aidan’s face toward his, intent on kissing those full red lips. Aidan’s eyes, which had been open, fluttered shut. He was breathing hard, his cheeks flushed beneath the auburn stubble of a few days’ growth. “Zane,” he whispered, pulling free. “Don’t do this. Don’t waste your time on me. I’m damaged goods.” Zane’s heart lurched with compassion, even as his cock ached with desire. “We’re all damaged in some way, Aidan. It’s part of being human. Don’t define yourself by the accident. Don’t shut me out. I’ve come home for you, Aidan.” “Zane,” Aidan whispered. “Kiss me before I wake up from this dream.”

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Chapter Two Aidan touched his lips in wonder, the imprint of Zane’s kiss still hot upon them. The air in the room crackled with desire. The evening had a sense of the surreal about it. Perhaps it really was just another of his erotic dreams. In a moment he would wake up in his bed, his hand on his cock, alone as always. Yet he knew it was no dream. The man next to him was real, his familiar scent a compelling combination of cedar, honey and the musk of desire. He wanted Zane as much as he’d ever wanted him. The kiss had blown the gates off his carefully corralled feelings and he knew he was in trouble. “Where’s the light?” “Hmm?” “The sun’s setting. It’s getting dark in here.” “Oh. The switch is on the wall by the front door. I don’t usually have people over after dark.” “You must save a ton on electricity,” Zane said with a laugh. Aidan felt the couch lighten as Zane stood and walked toward the switch. He recalled how good Zane looked in jeans, his ass firmly muscled from years of swimming, his legs long and strong. In a moment Zane was back, his warm scent assailing Aidan’s nostrils. “I want to do more than kiss you, Aidan. Take me to your bedroom.” Aidan stiffened. As much as he wanted Zane, he couldn’t bear the thought of Zane’s eyes lingering over his scar-riddled, ravaged body. “Are you hungry? I’m starving.” Zane laughed, affection in his tone. “Sure, I’m always hungry, you know that.” It was true. Zane loved to eat but never gained an ounce. His tall, lean body was pure muscle. Aidan swallowed hard at the memory of Zane’s perfect body draped over his as they made love for hours on end, only stopping when sheer exhaustion felled them. 13

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“I’ll order pizza,” Zane said, shaking him out of his fantasy. “What’s a good place around here?” Once the pizza arrived, they sat at the peninsula that served as Aidan’s kitchen table to eat. The slow smolder ignited by their kiss still heated the atmosphere, but Aidan was relieved Zane hadn’t pressured him to go further. Zane told his usual stories—detailing adventures and mishaps in his travels around the globe, making Aidan laugh more than he had in a year. “It’s good to be back though,” Zane said, suddenly serious. “You’ll be impressed to know I took a job. Down at the Fairbanks Country Club. I’m going to be a lifeguard and swim coach. It’s a temporary gig, but who knows… I’ll have full access to the amenities when I’m not on duty.” Aidan grinned. “Zane, you’re the only guy I know who can land a job after being back for one day.” “Well, my reputation preceded me,” Zane said with a modest laugh. He was still well-known locally for his collegiate swimming prowess. He had qualified for the Olympics but his dreamy nature and wanderlust wasn’t the stuff of champions and he’d never even tried out. Zane touched Aidan’s arm, his fingertips spreading warmth like a healing balm. “What’s the best thing about being blind?” “What?” Aidan wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. Zane hadn’t removed his hand from Aidan’s arm. Slowly he began to massage the muscle, distracting Aidan as he added, “Nothing is all good or all bad. You lose your sight, you gain something else.” Slowly Aidan nodded. “I hadn’t thought about it that way, I guess.” Thoughtfully he took a bite of his pizza, the tangy cheese melting over the spicy pepperoni in an explosion of taste on his tongue. “Food tastes better. And worse.” He laughed. “I mean, the good things taste really good, and the junk—the low-quality, over-salted food I used to gulp down without tasting, forget it.” He felt the gentle squeeze of encouragement on 14

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his arm and thought some more. “Music is better. I can hear the nuance of instruments and voice blending, twisting and intertwining in a way I didn’t appreciate before. I can feel things better too. It’s like my fingers have sprouted special nerve endings. When this first happened, I never thought I’d be able to learn Braille, but now I barely think about it. My fingers ‘read’ the patterns of raised dots almost as easily as I used to read with my eyes.” “I bet other sensations are heightened too,” Zane said, his voice suddenly entering a lower register, seduction ripe in his tone. His fingers drew a line of fire down Aidan’s arm. He dropped his hand to Aidan’s thigh. A jolt of arousal shot through him as Zane’s lips met his. He gripped the counter to keep from losing his balance on the barstool. Zane stood and gently pulled Aidan up. Wrapping his arms around him, he tugged him close. “I want you, Aidan.” He kissed him, their tongues entwining. Zane pulled away, and instinctively Aidan leaned forward, his lips still parted, his tongue seeking Zane’s. Instead he felt the nudge of Zane’s teeth, lightly biting his neck at the hot pulse of his jugular vein. Aidan’s cock was rigid in his jeans, his heart slamming in his chest. His body ached for Zane’s, lust boiling his blood, melting his bones. Pushing Zane back, he reached for Zane’s shirt, felt the row of buttons and nimbly pulled them open, desperate for the feel of Zane’s smooth, hard chest. Zane stood quietly, only his thumping heart giving him away as Aidan leaned down, licking along the slightly salty flesh until he made contact with a nipple. As he lightly bit and licked the little nubbin, Zane moaned softly, his fingers weaving themselves into Aidan’s hair. Aidan sought out the second nipple. “Jesus,” Zane whispered. “You’re driving me crazy.” Aidan knelt on the kitchen floor before the man he’d loved for so long. A part of him was still waiting to wake up from this amazing dream. With greedy fingers he pulled open the metal buttons of Zane’s fly, smiling as he made contact with flesh. Zane was never one for underwear, he recalled, as he leaned in to inhale the musky,

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intoxicating scent. Reaching up, he ran his fingers over Zane’s chest and arms, memorizing each curve of muscle and bone. He could feel Zane’s shiver of anticipation as his mouth moved closer to Zane’s bobbing cock. Pushing Zane’s jeans down his thighs, he cradled the heavy, hot balls in one hand as he sought the fat head with his lips. Unable to control his lust, he sucked the cock deep into his throat, nearly gagging himself on its girth. Only when he had to gasp for air did he release the shaft. He licked Zane’s cock like a lollipop until he could again no longer resist and plunged down to take him to the hilt. “Oh god,” Zane moaned. “Aidan, Aidan, yes…” All too soon he felt the familiar tension and shudder of Zane’s body and knew he was about to come. He curled one hand around Zane’s shaft, his mouth pumping in tandem with his hand, his other hand still cupping Zane’s balls. Zane gasped, his body rigid as he shot hot dollops of creamy seed down Aidan’s throat. Aidan didn’t let him go until he’d milked every drop from his lover. Zane pulled away, sinking to his knees in front of Aidan. Taking him into his arms, he whispered, “There was never anyone who could compare to you, Aidan. That was amazing.” Zane stood slowly, pulling Aidan up with him. Aidan reached down, feeling for Zane’s jeans still caught around his thighs. He started to pull them up but Zane laughed and instead pushed them down, kicking them away along with his sandals. “I don’t need those. Not right now. Take me to your bedroom.” “Zane, I don’t think—” “Shh.” Zane touched Aidan’s lips and he quieted. “This goes at your pace. Let’s just go lie down, okay?” Aidan touched the counter to get his bearings then led Zane to the bedroom, counting his steps as he went. He sat on the edge of the bed, keenly aware of Zane’s nakedness and his own body still fully clothed. No one had seen his body except his doctors and physical therapists since the accident. The wound on his face had been 16

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painstakingly worked on by a plastic surgeon, over a hundred tiny stitches expertly sewn to allow it to heal with as little trace as possible. The same care had not been taken on his body, which had been too badly gashed by twisted shards of metal and splinters of glass to repair with such finesse. Thick, ridged scars covered his torso, twisted reminders of someone else’s decision to get behind the wheel with a fifth of vodka roaring through his blood… He hugged himself, anxiety nearly wiping out the lingering pleasure of sucking Zane’s perfect cock. He felt the bed sag as Zane lay beside him. “Lie next to me,” Zane said, patting the bed. He felt Zane’s hand gently pulling him down. “Hey,” Zane said, his voice tender. “It’s me. Not some guy you just met at a bar. It’s your best friend. Don’t shut me out. Please. Help me understand what you’re going through. Let me be here for you.” Aidan didn’t answer, but he did relax a little as Zane’s hand stroked his arm. He loved the sound of Zane’s voice, its register deep, its cadence slow and sure. “Listen, whatever havoc the accident wreaked on your body, you’re still you. You’re still Aidan Byrne, my little fire.” Aidan grinned despite himself. He still had the postcard Zane sent him from Ireland years before with the name Aidan written in Gaelic, its English meaning typed beneath. “Don’t turn me away,” Zane said, “Trust me.” He stroked Aidan’s hip, his fingers slipping just beneath his shirt to the curve of his waist. “I do trust you,” Aidan whispered, realizing it was true. He felt Zane’s fingers clutch the hem of his shirt. He pressed his lips together to keep from screaming. Zane would have to see his body sometime. He would get it over with—face Zane’s inevitable disgust, try to bear his pity… He half sat, allowing Zane to remove his shirt completely. “Oh baby,” Zane said softly, his voice, as Aidan had expected, rife with pity. Aidan stiffened, groping for his T-shirt. He could feel the heat of shame on his face. When he couldn’t find his shirt, he grabbed at the covers, desperate to hide his scarred, disfigured body. 17

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Strong fingers pulled the fabric from him and pressed against his chest. “Stop it, Aidan. Lie back. It’s okay. I promise, it’s okay.” He laid back, defeated, unwelcome tears coming to his eyes. He felt Zane’s fingers moving over his skin, following the twisted, raised ridges of scar tissue that criss-crossed his body like a map. He felt Zane’s finger trace along the largest of the scars, which zig-zagged from Aidan’s left nipple to his hip. He tried not to flinch. “Do they hurt?” Zane’s voice was low, almost reverent. “No. Not anymore.” “I’m sorry,” Zane said softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I’m sorry I didn’t know…” Aidan felt Zane’s lips skimming along the path his fingers had just taken. “Aidan, you’re beautiful, you know that? I know you think you’re disfigured, ugly now, but you could never be ugly. Not to me.” His fingers continued to roam over Aidan’s bare torso, moving away from the scars to glide sensually over his chest and belly. Zane’s fingers moved lower, stopping at Aidan’s fly, dragging the tag of his zipper down. Aidan’s cock rose hard against the press of Zane’s hand. He lifted his hips as Zane tugged at his jeans, pulling them down his legs. He felt Zane’s hand cupping his cock and balls over the cotton of his briefs. When Zane pulled at the elastic waist of his underwear, he lifted his hips to allow Zane to slide them off, his heart slapping against his ribs, his breath catching in his throat. Warm hands gripped his shaft as Zane’s hot mouth lowered itself over him. His body, which had almost forgotten the passion another’s touch could awaken, was burning, every fiber of his being straining toward what Zane offered. Aidan heard the long, low moan and realized it was his own. Melted heat soaked his senses as Zane brought all his skill to bear, taking Aidan deep into his throat. As he milked his cock, sure fingers stroked and cupped his balls, sliding below to tease the small puckered entrance between his ass cheeks. It had been so long…so long. “Slow down,” Aidan finally managed. “Too fast. I’ll come too fast…”

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“S’okay,” Zane mumbled, his voice muffled with cock. “I want you to. You need this. Then we’ll take our time.” The feeling of Zane’s mouth and hands on his cock was more intense than anything Aidan had ever experienced. Zane relentlessly kissed, bit, stroked and teased him to a quick but fiercely intense climax. Aidan grabbed Zane’s head, holding him tight as his body shuddered into ecstasy. Gently Zane extracted himself, sidling up to lie beside Aidan. For a while Aidan lay limp with pleasure, every nerve and muscle in his body relaxed to the point of paralysis. Zane breathed evenly beside him, his hand lightly resting on Aidan’s thigh. Aidan turned toward him, reaching out to touch the face he would never see with his eyes again. He ran his fingers over the bridge of Zane’s nose, feeling for the bump he remembered that was the result of a broken nose Zane had suffered years before when a baseball had caught him in the face. His fingers traced the fine line of Zane’s high cheekbones, smoothing the lids of his eyes, stroking the soft, long lashes as he lingered in his mind’s eye over the unusual cinnamon brown of his large, soulful eyes. He reached higher to push away the hair hanging over his forehead. He took a lock of the curly, soft hair between thumb and forefinger, recalling its rich, dark sheen. An emotion he barely recognized looped and veered like a drunken bird in his heart. The warmth of Zane’s presence beside him, his hand resting proprietarily on Aidan’s thigh, spread like a healing balm in his bones. He was, he realized with startled, delighted surprise—happy.

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Chapter Three “Are you sure this is okay?” Zane led Aidan into the indoor pool area of the deserted country club. “Sure. I’ve been given carte blanche. It’s wet there, watch out.” Aidan felt Zane’s arm come around him in a supportive embrace. He leaned against him—he’d left his cane in the locker room when they’d changed. They’d fallen asleep together. Zane, no doubt still jet-lagged from his recent return, had slept deeply for several hours. Aidan dozed on and off beside him, too keyed up to sleep. He touched Zane’s back, strong and sleek beneath his fingers, moving his hands down to Zane’s strongly muscled ass, recalling its hot grip around his cock. He wanted to make love to him but was not sure enough of their rekindled love affair to make the first move. He’d tried to put Zane from his thoughts the past year as he’d struggled to reclaim what was left of his life. Though he’d always loved Zane and knew he always would, he’d given up the idea years ago of having Zane in his life on any kind of permanent basis. He’d learned to content himself with the periodic bursts of joy when Zane would swoop in, dazzling him anew. When the wanderlust seized his mercurial lover, he’d learned to let him go. He knew in his heart this was why Zane always came back. The empty natatorium echoed with the sound of water gently slapping the sides of the pool as Zane led Aidan down the steps. The warm water brushed his skin, rippling over him as they moved. Zane’s body pressed against his, the sensation soothing. Aidan closed his eyes, for the moment imagining they were just two lovers, surrounded by an oasis of peaceful, warm water with no unanswered questions, no insecurities or fears as to what the future might hold.

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After a moment Zane let him go, slipping beneath the water and looping around Aidan’s legs, as playful as an otter. In a moment he surfaced with a splash, droplets of water hitting Aidan’s face and chest. He lifted Aidan into his arms. Aidan let his head fall back, secure in Zane’s embrace as the water covered him, filling his ears, muffling sound. He lay still for several moments, floating on his back in a cocoon of darkness and silence, only Zane’s hands resting lightly beneath his hips anchoring him to this world. He was seized with the desire to hold the moment in time—he would lie there forever, safe in Zane’s strong arms. Eventually he raised his head, shaking the water from his hair. He pulled away from Zane and stood. “Want to swim a little?” Zane asked. “Can you do it?” “Yeah. Swimming was part of my rehabilitation once my bones healed. I like doing it. I just have to get a feel for the dimensions of the pool. I count the strokes to get used to it.” Together they began to swim. Aidan knew Zane was holding back for him. He could feel the coiled tension—his swimmer’s body eager to cut through the water and feel his power. “It’s okay,” Aidan offered. ”You can do a few laps on your own. I’ll be fine.” Zane kissed his nose. “You know me too well.” Zane took off ahead of him, swimming toward the deep end. Aidan pushed off tentatively, easing himself into a slow Australian crawl. It felt good to glide through the water. He was glad to think there was no physical therapist watching him from the side, scribbling notes on a clipboard and calling out direction and encouragement. After several laps Aidan was comfortable with the dimensions of the pool, reaching the count of thirty as his fingers touched the smooth tile that edged the perimeter. His heart was thumping pleasantly, blood warming his muscles. It was three in the morning but he felt more invigorated and alive than he could remember feeling. Zane surfaced beside him with a splash. “Had enough? Let’s relax in the hot tub.” 21

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Zane flipped a switch on the wall and the hot tub gurgled and roared to life. “Careful, it’s hot at first,” he cautioned. Aidan dipped his toe into the swirling water and stepped carefully down, Zane supporting his elbow all the while. They settled next to one another in the frothy, steaming water. It pummeled every muscle in Aidan’s body like a liquid massage. “I could seriously get used to this,” he said with a happy sigh, leaning his head back against the cool tile. “We can’t stay in too long,” Zane warned. “We’ll end up like cooked lobsters. That’s the only bad part about the hot tub—getting out.” But get out they did after about ten minutes. Aidan stood shivering as the cool air hit his overheated body. In a moment Zane wrapped a thick, large towel over his shoulders. Zane led him back to the locker room. “Stand still. I want to dry you off.” Aidan recognized the tendril of lust curling into Zane’s tone. Nevertheless, he felt selfconscious about his scars, imagining the angry red ridges made redder by the heat of the hot tub. “I’ll do it,” he said, turning his body away. Zane wasn’t so easily deterred. He knelt at Aidan’s feet, his fingers slipping beneath the waist of Aidan’s bathing suit. Despite his shyness over his mangled body, Aidan could feel his cock rising to eager, anticipatory attention. He felt Zane’s mouth, hot against his cold but very hard cock. “You’re sure no one’s here?” he gasped. “At three in the morning? Nope. No one’s here. I promise.” Aidan forgot to worry as Zane applied himself at his groin. He reached out to stroke Zane’s wet head. Zane teased his tongue in a slow circle down Aidan’s shaft as he brought his arms around Aidan’s hips. He held Aidan in place by gripping his ass as he took his hard shaft deep into his throat. Aidan moaned with pleasure, pressing against Zane’s shoulders for balance as he gave himself over to Zane’s attentions. After only a few minutes, Zane abruptly pulled back so Aidan’s wet, hard cock fell from his mouth.

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“Let’s go back to your place,” Zane said, his voice husky. “I want to make love to you properly.” How like Zane—to lead him to the edge and leave him there, aching to come. He could almost see Zane’s cinnamon eyes sparkling with evil glee as he gently gripped Aidan’s cock with strong, cool fingers, pulling him forward. “It’s been far too long, lover. I want you.” He wants me. The words reverberated through Aidan’s head, bringing a broad smile to his face. He wants me! Only a day before, he’d been resigned to a life alone, a life hidden away, licking his wounds in the perennial darkness of his new existence. It took him a moment to recognize what was seeping through his body like rays of sunlight, dispelling the cold damp of loneliness—it was hope.

***** Zane watched Aidan walk from the bedroom to his bathroom, noting he always took the same, precise route. He had observed Aidan didn’t use his walking cane when in his house. Clearly, he’d memorized the dimensions of each room, the number of steps required to move from place to place and the location of each piece of furniture. During the periodic times he’d lived with Aidan in the past, neither had been an especially ardent housekeeper, but Aidan had certainly been the more orderly of the two—making the bed, straightening the kitchen after Zane inadvertently destroyed it when creating one of his lavish meals, picking up Zane’s discarded socks and crumpled shirts. Now Aidan lived in positively Spartan surroundings—nothing out of place, everything in order. Zane closed his eyes, trying to imagine the incredible discipline and perseverance it must have taken Aidan to get to the point of living on his own. He glanced around the room. It contained a bureau and a reclining chair with a low table beside it. On the table lay a large white spiral-bound notebook Zane surmised was a book in Braille. The

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bedspread was a solid dark blue. There were no pictures on the walls, which were painted a stark white. He thought about Aidan’s old apartment, the walls hung with bright artwork and posters, magazines and books scattered over tables and spilling from bookshelves, a vase of flowers or a bowl of fruit on the kitchen table. His bedspread had been a bright batik tapestry Zane had picked up for him while on an extended tour of India. What had become of that bedspread, Zane wondered idly. What had become of the necklace Zane had given him—a silver bird in flight wrought in fine filigree? He fingered the ring Aidan had given him years before—a friendship ring, Aidan had called it, made of three strands of gold braided into a band. Did Aidan know he still wore it? Aidan returned from the bathroom, wearing his T-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. He was wiping his face on a hand towel. Carefully he sat on the edge of the bed, his back to Zane. Zane had pulled off his jeans and shirt and lay naked beneath Aidan’s sheets. Reaching out, he touched Aidan’s back. “Come here,” he said sleepily. “Lie next to me.” Aidan lay down beside him, still clothed. Zane wanted to feel his warm skin against his own but didn’t press the issue. Zane put his arms around Aidan and pulled him close, spooning against his back. He ran his hand over Aidan’s sides, touching his hip bone and slipping his hand beneath Aidan’s shirt. Aidan stiffened but didn’t pull away. Zane ran his finger along the ridge of a scar, following the path to his nipple. He pressed his palm flat against Aidan’s chest. “What happened to your necklace?” Aidan’s hand went to his throat. Gently Zane placed his over it. “I lost it. During the accident. It must have been ripped away during impact because when I woke up in the hospital, it was gone.” “I still wear your ring,” Zane said. He felt Aidan’s other hand come over his, the fingers finding and lightly tracing the gold band on Zane’s index finger. They lay quietly for a time. Though Aidan still clasped his hand, he felt the tension in Aidan’s 24

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body slowly uncoil, his breath easing into the deep, rhythmic cadence of sleep. Zane smiled, glad to have Aidan in his arms again after so long. The sky outside the bedroom window was lightening to a pearly gray in preparation for the dawn. Aidan will never see the sun rise again, Zane thought, tears suddenly filling his eyes. He held Aidan tighter, pressing his face lightly against Aidan’s hair. Aidan sighed softly but otherwise was still. His earlier plans of making love to Aidan slipped into dreams as dawn crept over the windowsill.

***** Aidan woke to the sound of pots clattering in the kitchen. He was assailed with the smells of frying bacon and fresh coffee. Since the accident he rarely cooked, usually having cereal for breakfast, cold cuts for lunch and a microwave frozen meal for dinner. The delicious smells awakened his dormant appetite, making his mouth water. He grinned to himself as he thought of the mess Zane was no doubt making in his kitchen. After using the bathroom and washing his face, he made his careful way through the house. “I smell bacon and eggs,” Aidan said as he entered the kitchen. “Did I have food I didn’t know about?” “I went out earlier. You had no cream for the coffee!” “If I’d have known you were coming…” he said with a grin. “I picked up some food to make you a proper meal. I’m going to put some meat back on your bones, boy. Now sit down, your breakfast is almost ready. You still take your coffee black?” Aidan took his place on the barstool, not quite sure how to react as coffee and juice were placed before him, along with a platter piled high with food. Smells wafted tantalizingly around him—buttery scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, fresh blueberry pancakes and maple syrup. “I can’t eat all this,” he laughed.

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Nevertheless, he attacked his food with unfamiliar gusto, savoring each delicious bite. Zane sat across from him, talking between mouthfuls, telling more tales about his European adventures. Aidan stifled the question that rose in his mind as he listened to his friend prattle on—how long before Zane began to miss the gypsy lifestyle he was used to? Could Aidan bear to let him go again? He forced the thoughts from his mind, focusing on Zane’s deep, sexy voice, its sound like music after an extended silence. When he couldn’t take another bite, Aidan sat back in his chair, patting his mouth with his napkin. “Let me get you more coffee,” Zane said, jumping up and returning to fill Aidan’s mug. “You’re going to spoil me,” Aidan laughed. “You could use a little spoiling, seems to me,” Zane responded. Instead of sitting, he stepped behind him, dropping his hands to Aidan’s shoulders. Lightly he massaged Aidan’s muscles, releasing tension he didn’t know he was carrying. Aidan sighed happily, leaning into Zane’s strong fingers. “Let’s go back to bed,” Zane whispered, trailing a finger seductively along Aidan’s jawline. “I don’t have to report to work until tomorrow morning. We have a year of catching up to do.” Aidan’s first impulse was to refuse. In the same way Zane regaled him with misadventures with foreign guys, he could almost hear Zane telling his European buddies about what it was like to fuck a blind guy or have him suck him off… Self-pity nearly overtook him as he thought about his scarred body—no longer a body a man like Zane would want or be able to love. Once the novelty of lying with a freak wore off, what then? “Stop it,” Zane said softly, almost as if he could read the thoughts poisoning Aidan’s mind. “Whatever crazy thoughts are in that thick head of yours, just stop.” He stood beside Aidan, gently taking his face in his hands. “Tell me this. Do you want me here? Or do you want me to go?” “I want you to stay,” Aidan whispered. More than anything. 26

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“Okay then. I want to stay. For now that’s all we need to know. Don’t worry about tomorrow. Today is all there is, Aidan. It’s all there ever is.” Zane’s soft lips touched his. Suddenly Aidan remembered the joy he’d once thought life could hold and surrendered himself to Zane’s kiss.

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Chapter Four “No one? Not since the accident?” Aidan shook his head. “Been saving yourself for me, huh?” Aidan could hear the smile in his voice. “To tell you the truth, Zane, I wasn’t saving myself for anyone. I didn’t think…” he paused, swallowing, “you’d want me.” “Because of your scars? Your blindness?” Aidan nodded. “You’re still not sure, are you? I’ll have to fix that, I guess. I’ll have to remind you of what we had—what we have.” “What do we have, Zane? You’ve been drifting in and out of my life in the years I’ve known you, always expecting me to drop everything and open my arms and heart to you. It never occurred to you something might happen to me—to us.” Aidan felt his face heating. Before the accident he wouldn’t have dared approach the subject of Zane’s inevitable departure. He realized he was no longer willing to take Zane only on Zane’s terms. “You’re right,” Zane said. They were lying in bed, digesting their large breakfast, Aidan’s head resting lightly on Zane’s bare chest. He could feel Zane’s deep voice rumbling in vibration against his ear. “I realize I’ve taken you for granted. I’ve been a selfish jerk for years and I don’t know why you put up with it—though I’m glad for my sake you did!” He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice cracked with emotion. “When you told me about the accident—when it hit me I could have lost you—lost you forever, something clicked on inside of me. “I realized I don’t want to take that chance again, Aidan. I don’t want to lose you. I guess it just took me a lot longer to figure that out, but I know it now. I love you. I’ve always loved you, Aidan, since our first kiss all those years ago.”

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Aidan closed his eyes, not trusting himself to speak. He’d been waiting for years to hear this, or something like it. Now that Zane was actually saying it, he didn’t know what to think—what to believe. Zane might even believe what he was saying at that moment. But how long before his wanderlust kicked back into gear? Zane shifted, gently pushing Aidan from him. “I need to feel you again, Aidan. I need to reclaim what should have been mine all this time.” He lowered his face to touch Aidan’s, capturing him with a long, probing kiss. When he finally pulled back, Aidan was breathless, his cock stirring to attention. He felt Zane reach over him toward the nightstand. After a moment he recognized the nearly forgotten sound of a condom packet being ripped opened. For a moment he almost asked Zane not to use it, but knew Zane would insist. A single sour note of jealousy weaved its way into his head as he thought of all the unknown men who had tasted Zane’s hot kiss. He willed it away and forgot it entirely as Zane’s mouth closed over his cock. As Zane licked and sucked at his shaft, his fingers slipped down between Aidan’s ass cheeks. The finger, already slick with lubricant, slipped in, Zane’s mouth still locked on his cock. Aidan gasped with pleasure, his cock hardening to steel against Zane’s tongue. After several moments, Zane pulled back and Aidan tried to roll over, eager to offer himself to his lover. “No, I want it this way,” Zane said, his hands firm on Aidan’s shoulders, pushing him back onto the bed. “I want to see your face, kiss your mouth.” Instinctively Aidan moved to cover his scarred chest. He felt Zane’s gentle but firm grip on his wrists. “No, don’t hide from me. This is who you are now. Accept it. Embrace it. Think of these scars as badges of courage, testaments of your will to live.” He felt Zane’s lips lightly grazing his chest, trailing along the zigzagging ridges of skin as his hand continued to stroke Aidan’s cock. “I want you, Aidan.” It was a declaration. Aidan knew he needed to find the faith and the trust to get past his own discomfort and embarrassment.

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He nodded, whispering, “And I want you.” He felt Zane position himself over him and bent his knees, tilting his hips forward to give his lover better access. The position was at once familiar and nearly forgotten. Zane had been the one to teach it to him so long ago. Aidan tensed as the tip of Zane’s erect cock touched his tight hole. Zane waited, holding himself up with one hand, using the other to stroke Aidan’s face. “Relax,” Zane whispered. “You’re with me now.” There was the initial moment of pain as Zane’s thick cock head pressed its way into him, quickly replaced with melting, gripping pleasure. “Yes,” Zane said, holding the “s” as he hissed his pleasure. He began to move in a sensual, twisting motion that forced Aidan’s body to respond in kind. Aidan’s breath quickened as Zane leaned over him, his firm, smooth body rubbing against Aidan’s erect cock with each thrust. Aidan reached up, finding Zane’s neck with his fingertips. He could feel the tendons stretching as Zane panted above him, his head thrown back. He imagined Zane’s face, a contortion of passion as he lost himself in the pleasure of the moment. He moved his hands down to Zane’s chest. He could feel his heart hammering against his breast, echoing Aidan’s own thumping pulse. Too soon he felt Zane stiffen, a cry wrenched from his lips as he came. He lowered himself over Aidan, his cock still buried inside him. He was breathing hard, his body covered in a light sheen of sweat. Aidan could feel Zane’s heart, still pounding, against his own. After several moments Zane whispered, “That was incredible. Would you like to try it?” Aidan didn’t answer right away. The thought of straddling Zane as he had done, face-to-face with Zane watching his scarred body writhe over him, made him achingly self-conscious. “I’d rather the other way,” he said. Zane slowly eased himself from Aidan and fell to his back beside him. “Hand me that washcloth,” he said to Aidan. “It’s on the nightstand.” Aidan reached over, his fingers registering the tube of lubricant before settling on a damp towel.

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After disposing of the used condom and cleaning himself, Zane reached again for the nightstand and leaned over Aidan, stroking his cock from its semi-erect state to full hardness. He slipped a condom over the head, rolling it smoothly down the shaft. “I’m ready,” he said. Aidan reached out, touching Zane’s strong back. He ran his hand down his side, cupping his ass cheek and gently squeezing the back of Zane’s firmly muscled thigh. He maneuvered himself between Zane’s legs, his heart fluttering in anticipation. Zane gasped as Aidan found his nether hole and slipped the head of his cock into its tightness. He willed himself to slow down, to make it last. Carefully he pressed his way into the tight grip of Zane’s ass. He could hear Zane breathing, each breath deep and slow, almost trancelike. “You okay?” he whispered. “Better than okay,” Zane murmured. “Don’t stop. It feels so good. So incredibly good.” Zane groaned as Aidan pressed his cock deep inside. Unable to control the desperate pull of his yearning, Aidan began to move faster, each stroke drawing him inexorably toward release. Zane began to move as well, arching back to meet each thrust. For the first time since he’d regained consciousness in the hospital bed, Aidan forgot himself completely. He forgot his wounds, he forgot his pain, he forgot his disfigured body and useless eyes. His entire being was focused on Zane and his rising passion. Joy arced like a lightning bolt between them, holding them both captive in its thrall. Before he realized what was happening, an orgasm broke like a wave over him, sweeping him away. He thrust hard against Zane, lost in the spasms of sensation radiating from his cock outward to every part of his body. The orgasm seemed to go on and on. The loss of control, while exhilarating, was almost frightening. He gripped Zane’s shoulders, holding on as if he might otherwise fly away into nothingness. Slowly Aidan blinked, vaguely aware Zane was speaking through the din of his own rushing blood. “Hey, you okay?” 31

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“Yeah,” he managed, aware he was still lying on top of Zane, lacking the strength even to roll off him. The obliterating intensity of his orgasm began to recede into an aftermath of languorous bliss. When Zane lifted his body, Aidan rolled from him, lying limp where he fell. He felt Zane gently remove the used condom and wipe his spent cock. Instead of being embarrassed by the intimate gesture, he felt warmed by it, cared for. “I’m glad you’re back,” he murmured before sleep pulled him under. “I’m glad you’re home.”

***** The days settled into a happy routine. Zane, who had been staying with his mother, moved in with Aidan for all intents and purposes. He went each day to work at the country club, returning in time to prepare dinner for Aidan and himself. He’d always enjoyed cooking and took deep satisfaction as he watched Aidan’s appetite return. He found himself fascinated with what it was like for Aidan day-to-day. Because he handled himself so well in the controlled environment of his home, Zane had almost forgotten how impaired he really was. The challenge of operating in a world made for the sighted was mind-boggling. Things he took for granted, such as cutting his own steak without it skittering off the plate or shaving without the benefit of a mirror were challenging enough. Forget about driving to the store to pick up milk or reading the menu at a restaurant—these simple things that were part of living an independent adult life would always be insurmountable for Aidan. “I don’t know how you do it, Aidan. I honestly don’t think I’d have had the perseverance to accomplish what you have over this past year. I think I would have just crawled into bed and never come out. I’m so in awe of you.” They were sitting down to a dinner of Hungarian goulash Zane had started in the crock pot before he’d left that morning for work.

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“You do what you have to, I guess. When I finally got out of the hospital, I had a nurse here 24/7 for a while. After a time I convinced my doctors to reduce her visits to daily. I told them I was fine at night, but the truth was, I couldn’t stand her snoring.” He laughed. “She slept out in the living room on my sofa bed. She weighed three hundred pounds and prided herself on her no-nonsense approach to patient care. Marcia didn’t put up with any shit.” He gave a short bark of a laugh. “Once she found me curled up crying for myself, full of self-pity and loathing. She pulled me up by the arm, dragged me to the bathroom and threw cold water on my face. “‘Get a grip,’ she said to me. ‘You think you’re the first guy ever to be in an accident? You think the world’s going to stop because you fell off it? You’re alive, man! You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t be walking, but here you are! Instead of crying, you should be on your knees, thanking whatever lucky stars were on your side that night.’” Aidan shook his head, smiling ruefully at the memory. “She was right, huh?” Zane said softly, putting his hand over Aidan’s. “Yeah. And I guess I needed Marcia’s brand of ‘tough love’ at the time. I could have easily given up. At one very low point I considered taking an overdose of the sleeping pills and morphine they’d sent me home with. I think fear that she’d come after me, even in death, and haul my scrawny ass into the bathroom to throw up the meds kept me from even trying.” Zane laughed, and after a moment, Aidan laughed with him. That night in bed Aidan turned to Zane. “I was thinking about what you said— about wondering what it’s like to be blind. Would you like to try it tonight?” “What do you mean?” “I could blindfold you while we make love.” Zane was quiet, contemplating the suggestion. Always in their lovemaking, even before the accident, Zane had been the more dominant of the two. The thought of relinquishing control, however slight, made him anxious.

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Aidan, sensing his vulnerability, said quietly, “It’s a matter of trust. To be able to give over some part of yourself to me without maintaining complete control. I know that can be a little scary.” Zane looked at his lover, at the sightless beautiful blue eyes staring inward, and thought what an understatement that was. He had surrendered himself to Zane, working through his deep insecurities about his appeal as a man since the accident. His courage far outweighed the tiny leap of faith it took to permit himself to be blindfolded. “I want to try it,” Zane said, and he meant it. “Get one of my ties. Get the red one.” “The red one?” Zane laughed. “What difference does it make to you?” “I want to imagine it. To imagine red silk over your eyes, disappearing into your dark hair.” Aidan licked his lower lip, the gesture seductive and suggestive. “Go on,” he said softly. “Get it.” Zane scrambled to obey, his cock jutting out from his belly as he returned and placed the blindfold in Aidan’s hand. “Lie down on your back,” Aidan said, an unfamiliar command in his tone. As Zane lay back, Aidan knelt beside him, carefully smoothing the silk over his eyes and tying it behind his head. Zane, who liked to make love with the lights on, who enjoyed seeing his lover’s reactions, was suddenly plunged into darkness. He felt his pulse quicken as he sensed his vulnerability. Aidan’s light touch on his chest made him jump. “Relax,” Aidan soothed. He stroked Zane’s chest with his fingertips. Zane started to reach out for him, but Aidan pushed his hand away. “Lie still,” he ordered, though his tone was gentle. “We’re going to try something new. I know you’re used to being in control. Just for tonight, I want you to relinquish that control. Give it up to me. Can you do that?” Zane dropped his hand to his side. The situation was novel for him, so used to directing the sexual scene with whomever he was with. Beneath the layer of lingering

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anxiety he had to admit a rising desire. He was curious to see where Aidan’s new-found dominance would take them. Aidan’s lips closed over the head of his cock, sending currents of pleasure coursing through him. Instinctively he reached for Aidan’s head, eager to entwine his fingers in his soft hair, eager to force Aidan’s mouth down onto his cock. Aidan pushed back, dropping away from Zane’s cock. “Zane,” he said, his voice teasing, “I’m going to have to tie your wrists over your head if you can’t keep your hands still. I know this is new for you—the idea of receiving without giving back, but I have to tell you I’m very turned on.” To demonstrate his point, Aidan lifted Zane’s hand and pressed his fingers around his own very erect cock. Zane chuckled appreciatively, stroking Aidan’s shaft for a moment before Aidan pulled away. “No,” he reminded him. “Tonight I’m going to make love to you. Your whole job is to lie still in the dark and let me do it.” “Okay,” Zane said softly. His cock was aching for Aidan’s touch. When he didn’t at once feel Aidan’s soft lips, he reached down to stroke his own shaft. “Naughty boy,” Aidan said with a laugh. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Zane heard Aidan moving and felt the bed lighten as he left. In a moment he was back. “I’m going to tie your wrists over your head. Not tight, don’t worry. It’s just a way to help you remember. Think of it as a symbol of your surrender to me. It takes courage to surrender in love.” Zane could have easily refused. He could have pulled off the blindfold and grabbed Aidan, reasserting his control. He could have protested as Aidan began to wrap another tie around his wrists, pulling the silk tight enough to bind him and securing it with a knot. He did none of these things, instead lying quietly, his heart pattering too fast in his chest, his cock aching for Aidan’s touch. He experienced a thrill of nervous anticipation as he waited to see what Aidan would do next. Aidan pulled Zane’s wrists up over his head, pressing them against the pillows. “Don’t move,” he whispered suddenly into Zane’s ear. Zane turned his head, hungry 35

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for his kiss. He felt Aidan’s tongue slipping between his lips, claiming his mouth as Aidan’s hands came up to cradle Zane’s face. Zane was breathless when Aidan finally pulled away. The blindfold remained secure over his eyes, his wrists bound over his head as Aidan again focused on his cock. Fingers, lips and tongue combined to bring Zane close to climax all too quickly. He moaned, arching up to thrust his cock farther back in Aidan’s throat. Aidan pulled back, leaving him hanging on the edge of release. “Hey,” Zane protested, “I was just about to—” “I know you were,” Aidan laughed. “That’s why I stopped. I want to fuck you first. Get on your hands and knees.” “But my wrists?” Zane asked, holding them up. “You want me to untie you? I like the idea of you bound. You’re my sexy prisoner.” Zane found the idea exciting as well, though he didn’t admit it aloud. Instead he rolled over, losing his balance at first as he tried to maneuver himself into position without the benefit of his sight to guide him. He heard Aidan pull open the drawer where they kept their condoms and lube. Though he knew it was coming, Aidan’s finger, gooey with lubricant, startled him as it pressed against his exposed nether hole. A moment later the finger was replaced with Aidan’s cock. When Aidan entered him, Zane grunted but adjusted quickly to the invasion. Normally he would stroke his own cock as his lover filled him from behind. Now, of course, he couldn’t. His cock strained and bobbed, his balls aching as Aidan began to thrust inside him. Strong fingers suddenly encircled his shaft. The friction of Aidan’s sure grasp as it slid up and down Zane’s cock combined with the nearly savage pleasure he derived from Aidan’s cock thrusting inside him. “I’m going to—”

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“Do it! Come for me!” Aidan cried, his hand pumping Zane’s cock as he jerked hard against his ass. The sudden thrust made Zane lose his tenuous balance on his bound wrists and he fell forward just as he climaxed against Aidan’s hand. They lay in a panting heap of tangled legs and arms, their hearts pounding in syncopated tandem. Aidan reached around, seeking the knot at Zane’s wrists. Deftly he released it. Zane turned toward him, expecting him to remove the blindfold as well. Instead Aidan pulled him close, finding his lips with his own. Zane understood and left the blindfold in place as they drifted together into dreamless sleep.

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Chapter Five Aidan was lost in concentration as he typed the words playing through his headphones onto the Braille typewriter. The clunky, old-fashioned-looking machine was actually state of the art, with Aidan’s keystrokes punching out a code on paper of raised dots in different configurations to allow the blind to read by running their fingers over them. Aidan no longer moved through his life in a daze of loneliness. He no longer fell asleep during the day, waking with a start from sweaty, churning nightmares. He no longer lay awake at night in a bed he thought would always hold only him. His days were productive, rising at five with Zane to share a cup of coffee before Zane left for his job, which started at the absurd early hour of six. “That’s when the rich and busy want their swimming lessons,” Zane had explained. After straightening the kitchen as best he could, smoothing the bed covers and plumping the pillows, he would work on his Braille translations as he waited for Zane’s return in the late afternoon. Zane had purchased him a stationery bicycle, which he rode daily to get back in shape as he listened to the news or music filling every corner of the house. They’d indulged in several more midnight swims at Zane’s club, once even making love in the locker room. “Hey, sexy.” Aidan jumped, startled by Zane’s light touch on his shoulder. Removing his headphones, he stood and moved into Zane’s strong arms. “You scared me. I didn’t hear you.” “Lost in your work, huh? And here I was expecting you to greet me naked at the door, a martini in your hand.” “That could be arranged,” Aidan laughed.

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As they headed to the kitchen, Zane said, “Something smells great! I don’t remember starting dinner this morning. I must have been half asleep!” “You didn’t,” Aidan said, grinning. “I made it! Homemade tomato sauce. You used to love it, remember?” It had taken him hours to prepare the sauce, much longer than when he could see, but he’d been determined to persevere. He wanted to be more of an equal with Zane instead of the invalid he sometimes felt, reliant on his lover for so much. “As I recall, your spaghetti sauce rivals the finest chefs in Italy!” Zane enthused. Concerned entered his voice as he added, “You were okay with cutting the onions?” “Yes,” Aidan lied, putting the hand with a bandaged finger behind his back. When he realized he’d cut himself, he’d had to throw out the whole onion, not sure if any blood had spilled onto the already chopped pieces. The week before he’d printed out labels in Braille for his spices as well as for the sugar and flour containers and the salt and pepper. Zane had affixed them for him, teasing that he might label the red pepper as cinnamon just to keep Aidan on his toes. “You can hear water boil, did you know that?” Aidan said. “I practiced at lunchtime with some pasta.” “I’m so proud of you, Aidan,” Zane said warmly. Aidan beamed with pleasure. Zane was unusually quiet during dinner. Normally he would regale Aidan with the trials and tribulations of his day, his primary aim, it seemed, to make Aidan laugh. Most of his stories centered around the tactful handling of women with leathery tans, painstakingly dyed blonde hair and dagger-length painted nails, jewelry dripping from their flabby arms as they tried to flirt with him in the pool. Long ago Aidan had learned to detect the cues of Zane’s impending departure. A phone call or letter from an old friend, a certain distractedness as Zane pondered whether to take advantage of the latest gift thrown into his lap, the hesitant admission that he was bored with whatever he was doing or needed a change of scenery.

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Aidan never let Zane know the depth of his need, or how much he missed Zane from the moment he left until his eventual return. How he’d come to dread the words, “I met a guy…” He would simply nod and smile as Zane excitedly explained how something incredible had come up—the chance to work on a cruise to Greece, the opportunity to spend a month on the Riviera with some Italian friends he’d met the year before, a jazz festival in Montreal, all expenses paid. He never asked Aidan to go with him. It had been understood somehow between them—Aidan was his safe harbor, a place to come home to once the wanderlust had been satisfied, at least for a while. With an effort to keep his voice light, Aidan said, “You’re quiet tonight.” “Oh, am I?” Zane sounded distracted. Aidan felt a cold finger of unease drag itself along his innards. It was no more than a hint, a whisper of the disquiet he used to feel toward the end of one of Zane’s stays. As he often did, Aidan fervently wished he could see Zane’s face, gauge his body language. It was so hard sometimes to know what another was feeling only by his spoken word and the tone of his voice. So much was missed, so much left unsaid. After a rather extended pause, Aidan offered, “Any funny stories today? Anything interesting happen?” “Yeah, actually. I met a guy who owns a string of resort clubs in the Caribbean. He’s opening a new one on a small island off Curacao. He wants to cater to a very rich and very beautiful gay population. Doesn’t that sound fantastic?” It seemed almost an afterthought as he added, “He’s looking for staff.” Aidan heard the excitement, the expectancy in Zane’s tone. He waited for the inevitable next sentence, his fingers clenched in his lap. When Zane didn’t elaborate, Aidan forced himself to be nonchalant. “And you’re thinking of going?” His words seemed to echo in his head, as if he were speaking through a long tube to someone already far away. “Me?” Zane sounded genuinely surprised. “No, my place is with you now, Aidan. I couldn’t leave you if I tried.” 40

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Aidan digested this in silence, grateful, relieved and anxious in equal measure. Since he didn’t know what to say, he said nothing, groping instead for the bottle of wine between them. “Let me get that for you,” Zane said. “A toast to the most delicious spaghetti dinner I’ve ever had.” Aidan raised his glass, smiling, praying his expression didn’t give him away.

***** Several weeks passed with nothing more said about the gay resort club in the Caribbean, yet Aidan remained on his guard. Zane’s stories at dinner seemed more forced now, as if he were striving to come up with entertaining anecdotes to please Aidan. Sometimes he would forget his train of thought in the middle of a story, his mind drifting until Aidan called him back with a “And then what happened?” They were lying together after dinner one evening in the brightly colored woven hammock Zane had given Aidan as a gift from Colombia several years before. Summer was edging into fall, the season ending. A definite chill had begun to creep into the early morning as the earth shifted farther from the sun. Aidan refused to let himself dwell on the symbolic implications. As he often did lately, Zane began to complain about his job—the ridiculously early hours, the annoying women hanging on him in their thinly disguised efforts at seduction, the lousy pay. “You don’t need to work if you don’t want to, Zane,” Aidan suggested. “With the settlement, I’ve got more than enough for both of us for as long as we need.” He felt Zane stiffen. “That’s not what I meant. I never want to take advantage of you.” “What are you talking about? Aren’t we a couple? Partners? I used to drag through my days, Zane, before your return. You’ve given back meaning to my life. I could never repay you enough. Everything I have is yours. You must know that.”

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Zane was quiet beside him. Aidan pressed his lips together, silently cursing himself. Though they freely told one another of their love, neither ever talked of the future or about their relationship as a couple. He knew he’d broken a tacit agreement. He could almost visualize the bars of a cage descending over Zane. He knew once Zane felt that way, he’d be gone. He thought of the lyrics to a song that had always reminded him of Zane… As long as there’s no price on love, I’ll stay… Yet at the same time he felt resentment seeping into his gut. Always in their relationship he was the one who tiptoed around Zane, careful not to stray past the confines of what Zane could tolerate. In his desperation to keep Zane near him for as long as possible, he had quashed his own needs and desires for so many years. In the past it had seemed worth it to him. He would have done anything just to have Zane for one more day. Now to his utter surprise, he realized he wasn’t willing to do that anymore. Ironically, when he needed Zane more in a literal sense than he had when he was sighted, he realized he didn’t need him to survive. He wanted him, yes. More than any man. But he’d come too far alone, clawing back from death into a life he could manage with a reasonable degree of independence, to be willing to compromise himself again, even for the man he loved. “I’m tired,” he said. “I’m going to bed.” Zane didn’t stop him.

***** Aidan pressed the clock. At least he still had some time to clean the kitchen before Zane arrived from work. The stupid cake had been more difficult to prepare than he’d anticipated. He had attempted Zane’s favorite, a chocolate layer cake. As he listened to the audio cookbook recipe he measured oil, flour, cocoa and sugar into graded measuring cups and cracked eggs into the mixing bowl, hoping no bits of shell fell in. It had been messy to pour the batter into the cake pans. He’d been forced to skim his fingers along the top of the batter to gauge how much he’d poured. The hardest part had been the icing as he tried to make sure he covered the entire cake. He finally 42

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abandoned the icing knife, instead using his fingers in an effort to smear icing over every bit of cake. He knew it probably looked horrible, but he finally gave up, knowing Zane wouldn’t care. It was Zane’s birthday and Aidan had pondered long and hard what to get him. He had wanted it to be a surprise, something special that would show Zane his love for him without making him feel trapped. He reached for his throat, forgetting for a moment the necklace was no longer there. Zane had given the small, beautifully detailed silver bird to him on his twenty-fourth birthday, and he’d always thought of it as a symbol of Zane himself—a bird who could never be caged. He was determined to let Zane know he would never be the one to place bars around him. He’d made his purchase over the phone, painstakingly writing down a web address and confirmation code in large block letters on a piece of paper. He folded the paper into a birthday card he’d asked his mother to buy for him, which he placed on the kitchen table next to the cake. Zane came home while Aidan was still trying to wipe down counters sticky with batter and chocolate icing. “You’re early!” “You sound disappointed. Aren’t you happy I’m—” Zane interrupted himself as he saw the cake with seven unlit birthday candles poked into the icing. “Aidan! You remembered! You didn’t say anything this morning so I thought…” “You thought I’d forget? Didn’t we meet on your birthday seven years ago? Do you really think I’d forget our anniversary?” “No,” Zane admitted, laughing. “I didn’t think you would. That cake looks wonderful! I can’t believe you were able to make it! You’ve really outdone yourself.” “Is it lopsided? I had a hell of a time icing the damn thing.” “It may be leaning a tad to the left,” Zane laughed. “But it looks delicious. Let’s have a piece and I’ll tell you my news.”

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Aidan stilled but said nothing. He let Zane cut the cake and pour them each a glass of milk. After they’d eaten a few bites, Zane pronounced his birthday cake as better than any he’d ever had. Unwilling to stave off the inevitable, Aidan said, “So. You have news.” “Yeah. I quit my job.” “You quit?” This was it. Aidan swallowed and looked down, hoping the tears suddenly pricking at his eyelids didn’t show. “Yeah. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I can’t believe I stuck with it this long. You know me, it’s that gypsy blood.” Aidan felt for the envelope and pushed it toward Zane. “I got you a present. Sounds like the timing’s perfect.” “You got me a present? That’s funny because I got you one too!” Aidan smiled in spite of himself, but insisted, “Open yours first.” “Okay.” He heard Zane tear open the envelope and waited as he read what was inside. “What is this, a scavenger hunt? Looks like a website address.” “It is. Go log on to the site and enter that confirmation code.” “Cool,” Zane said. “Come with me.” He took Aidan’s hand, lightly leading him to his laptop, which sat next to Aidan’s Braille typewriter. Aidan stood behind Zane’s chair, edgy with nervous anticipation as he listened to Zane clacking on the keys. Zane was quiet for a while. He pushed back from the desk and stood. Aidan felt his arms encircle him and he rested his head on Zane’s shoulder, thinking how incredible these last months had been, no matter what the future held. “You got me a plane ticket? You want me to go?” Zane’s voice was edged with surprised pain. “It’s roundtrip,” Aidan said softly. “So you can come back when you want. It’s open-ended. You can choose the destination and the time of travel. You book it when you’re ready. There’s no expiration.”

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Zane held Aidan tight. “I love you, Aidan.” His voice cracked with emotion. Aidan felt him swallow then heard him take a deep breath before he continued. He waited, trying to ignore the tape in his head, the one where Zane explained why he had to go. Still holding Aidan close, Zane continued. “I’m sorry I left you before. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to properly show you how much I want to keep you in my life. I’m twenty-nine now. I don’t want to flit around anymore, spending time with people who mean next to nothing to me, knowing you’re home waiting for me. If you want me, Aidan, there’s nowhere I want to be if you’re not there too.” “Oh Zane,” Aidan said, not trusting himself to speak. They clung to each other a while longer. Zane was the first to pull away. “Hold out your hands.” Aidan did so and felt him place a small oblong box into them. He stroked the ribbon tied over it, feeling the bow at its center. He slid off the ribbon and opened the box. His fingers ran along a chain with something hanging from it. “Remember the bird necklace I gave you?” Zane said. “There are two on this one. Two birds. It took me a while to track down the artist, a woman in California. She has her own shop now. She remembered the bird and she agreed to design it again for me. I think it’s cool the package came on our anniversary, don’t you? I’d asked her to deliver it to the club so it would be a surprise. I would have quit sooner but I had to wait for it!” He laughed, and then added shyly, “I asked her to make two so they’d always be together against your heart.” Aidan didn’t try to hide his tears this time as Zane placed the necklace around his neck, for they were tears of joy.

***** Aidan smoothed the blindfold over Zane’s eyes as he bent to kiss his lips. Zane was kneeling up on the bed in their luxury cabin, his hands clasped behind his back, his cock jutting rock hard from his belly. They were at sea, on a leisurely cruise that would

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end on the island of Curacao in the Caribbean where Zane was going to meet with the man who had recruited him to help get his dream of a luxury gay resort club off the ground. When Zane had suggested Aidan go too, his first impulse had been to refuse. The pattern of their relationship had been established for so many years it honestly hadn’t occurred to him they could change it. “My work is here,” he offered, realizing even as he said it how inane that was. He could translate books into Braille anywhere as long as he had his machine. He didn’t need the confines of his little house on Highland Avenue. Still he had hesitated, afraid if they changed the formula that had worked for so long, it might ruin what they had. Zane had finally convinced him, arriving home one day with tickets for the cruise, which would set sail the following week. “I want you with me. Please come.” It was new, this sense of power, of equality. Sometimes Aidan wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, so used to being the one who longed, the one who waited while Zane called the shots. He found, once he could accept it wasn’t going to vanish if he reached for it, that he quite liked it. How freeing it was to no longer have to think before speaking, to try to phrase his words carefully so as not to frighten his skittish lover into thinking he was trapped. The new sense of equality had found its way into the bedroom where Aidan assumed an active, even dominant role. Zane loved the blindfold, admitting it freed him in a way he hadn’t expected. He also enjoyed the light bondage Aidan playfully employed, permitting himself to be tied by the wrist and ankle to the bed while Aidan “had his way”, or kneeling up as he was doing now, his wrists tethered behind him, his cock at the mercy of a greedy lover. “Your job,” Aidan said slowly, the seduction ripe in his tone, “is to stay perfectly still no matter what I do to you. Understand?” Zane nodded, his tongue flicking over his lower lip, his cock bobbing at full erection.

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They’d purchased a real blindfold of soft satin. Zane had promised him it was a rich, dark red. Recently Zane had shyly handed him a pair of nylon wrist cuffs with Velcro closures that were easy to secure. These now held Zane’s wrists behind his back. “Spread your knees as far apart as you can,” Aidan instructed. Confident Zane was obeying him, he positioned himself in front of his lover. Gripping Zane’s shaft in one hand, he slid the other between his legs, seeking out the tiny entrance at his ass. Zane moaned and pushed into his hand. “Uh-uh,” Aidan said, dropping his cock to lightly slap it. “I said not to move!” Zane was breathing hard, his cock hot to the touch. Aidan slid his fingers up the shaft in a caress, lightly touching the head. Capturing a drop of silky pre-cum with his finger, Aidan again reached down between Zane’s legs. This time he pressed the lubricated finger into his ass, his other hand still gripping Zane’s cock. “Jesus,” Zane hissed, his body trembling with the effort to stay still. With a laugh, Aidan lowered his head, his mouth seeking Zane’s cock. Greedily he sucked it, licking, teasing, lightly biting his way up and down the shaft, his finger nestled in Zane’s ass all the while. Zane gave a small whimper of dismay when Aidan released his cock. Aidan knelt up. “I want to fuck you,” he whispered into Zane’s ear. “My wrists,” Zane said, pulling against the cuffs behind his back. “I think I’ll leave them bound,” Aidan said. “You can use your forehead for balance.” He shifted, moving behind Zane. Gently he pressed his shoulder until Zane bent forward, balancing on his forehead and knees, his gorgeous ass at Aidan’s mercy. Aidan ran his hands over Zane’s back, ass and legs, satisfied he was in the proper position. Zane shuddered, still breathing hard. Aidan could feel Zane’s arousal, exceeded only by his own. Hurriedly he slipped on a condom with fingers now nimble with practice. Gently he touched Zane’s bared asshole, lubricating it for his loving invasion.

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The ship was rocking gently, the motion soothing as he eased himself into Zane’s body. He had planned to go slowly, to tease Zane for as long as possible before permitting them to come. Carefully he pressed against Zane’s nether hole, sighing with pleasure as the head of his cock slipped past the tight ring of muscle. “Fuck me,” Zane urged, his voice low and pleading. “I’m so turned-on, I can hardly stand it. You are so hot, Aidan. Fuck me hard. Please.” Aidan didn’t need to be asked twice. Satisfied Zane had adjusted to his cock, he began to thrust hard inside him, pleasure radiating like fire through his body. The weight of misery he’d carried for long—his scars, his blindness and all that he’d lost— seemed to fall from him like an old skin no longer needed. Reaching around Zane’s bent body, he found and grasped his cock, stroking it in time to his own deep thrusts. The joy he experienced went far beyond the physical. He felt his soul flexing wings long furled, clumsy as any fledgling as it took to the air. He touched the two birds tapping at his chest and realized at last nothing mattered but the love they shared. “I love you, Zane,” he whispered. “I love us.”

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About the Author Claire Thompson has written numerous novels and short stories, all exploring aspects of Dominance & submission. Ms. Thompson’s gentler novels seek not only to tell a story, but to come to grips with, and ultimately exalt in the true beauty and spirituality of a loving exchange of power. Her darker works press the envelope of what is erotic and what can be a sometimes dangerous slide into the world of sadomasochism. She writes about the timeless themes of sexuality and romance, with twists and curves to examine the ‘darker’ side of the human psyche. Ultimately Claire’s work deals with the human condition, and our constant search for love and intensity of experience.

Claire welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

Tell Us What You Think We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email us at [email protected].

Also by Claire Thompson A Lover’s Call Bird In a Cage with J.W. McKenna Cast a Lover’s Spell Closely Held Secrets Club de Sade Continuum of Longing Crimson Ties Dare To Dominate Face of Submission Golden Boy Golden Man Island of Temptation Jewel Thief Masked Submission Odd Man Out Outcast Pleasure Planet anthology Sacred Blood Sacred Circle Secret Diaries The Perfect Cover The Seduction of Colette Two Masters for Alex Slave Castle Slave Gamble Turning Tricks

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