“I already want to come. Want you inside me.” And then when they recovered, he wanted to fuck Simon all night so he could forget about everything else.

Trevor reached for the condoms and lube. He squirted some on Simon’s left hand as he straddled Simon, chest-to-chest. He kissed Simon’s neck, his chest, let their pricks slide together as Simon worked a lubed finger inside him.

There wasn’t a lot of preparation because a finger wasn’t enough and Trevor wasn’t the best at waiting. He wanted Simon now, so he pulled away. Ripped open a condom wrapper and rolled it down Simon’s thick erection.

Enough waiting. Trevor sat up, held himself up on his knees as he reached behind himself, guided Simon’s cock to his hole, and slowly lowered himself down.

***

Jesus Christ, that felt good. Trevor’s tight ass, all that heat squeezing him so fucking tightly. Trevor rose, and then sat again, then again, riding Simon’s cock. Each time Trevor lowered, Simon pumped, slamming into Trevor.

He wanted to come.

He never wanted to stop.

He wanted this. Trevor. Baggage and all. Nothing else mattered to Simon. Trevor was his.

He wrapped a hand around Trevor’s erection. Pumped three times before he exploded, erupted, thick white stripes of come shooting up Simon’s chest. Trevor’s asshole clenched, tightened around Simon’s prick. He squeezed Trevor’s sides. Pain shot through his hand but he didn’t care. Not right now. He came so hard his vision went blurry, and then he pulled Trevor down, fusing their mouths together.

Trevor held the condom in place as he pulled off, then took the condom and tossed it into the trash. Simon grabbed him, pulled him close, as they both lay on their sides the way they had when Simon first got into bed with him.

“I didn’t take it,” Trevor finally said.

“I know.” They’d gone over it before, but he knew Trevor needed to say it again, and he needed Simon to believe him. “We’ll do whatever you need to do. If this is too much, we’ll slow down. If you need more meetings, you’ll go to them. Whatever you need. I’m not walking away.” Which was a big step for Simon. He’d been known for walking away. He’d done it with Heather. He’d even done it when his hand got injured.

Trevor still had his back to Simon when he spoke. “You fight, too, baby. You do. You just did, and when you’re performing surgery again, you’ll know it’s because you didn’t give up.”

Simon’s chest ached at those words.

“I want that for you. You deserve it. Maybe it’s wrong of me to think about it this way, but I don’t see where I have a place in that. You deserve to be in San Francisco like you were. It’s hard for me here, but I have support. I don’t know if I could do it there.”

Simon squeezed Trevor tighter. Wishing neither of them had to deal with all of this shit. Part of him wanting exactly what Trevor said, to have the mobility in his hand back and to be in San Francisco again, but the other part, just wanted to be here with Trevor.

Why did things have to be so black or white? If this worked, it wasn’t as though it was impossible for Simon to work here...though it wouldn’t be the same. But being without Trevor? He didn’t think he could do that, either.

“I dream about it sometimes. The feeling of the bat shattering my hand, taking away everything I ever wanted...and I hate it. It’s amazing how one little thing can change your life. It was the warmest day we’d had in weeks, and I left the front door open to get air. I should have closed the door. Having it open made me an easy mark. If I hadn’t had it open, would he have chosen a different house? If I hadn’t been gripping something when he hit me, things could have been different. It wouldn’t have put the same pressure on the nerves. My life could have gone on the way it was. I want to kill the man who did it. I would kill him with my bare hands if I could.” Another truth filled Simon’s head in that moment. “But sometimes...I look around at this property. My home...you...and maybe this is how things are supposed to be. Maybe that’s why everything happened. Maybe it was all to get me here.”

“No. Fuck that. I saw you, Simon. I know what you want.”

He did, but he wanted this too. “I couldn’t even tell the police what he looked like. I heard a noise, turned, he swung, and on reflex my hand when up to protect me. I happened to be holding a bottle in my hand. Nothing else mattered. It didn’t matter that everything else about that day had been normal. March thirteenth, the same as any other day...”

Trevor’s body stiffened, turned cold, and then he shot out of the bed. “What did you say?”