It's Who You Know Ch. 07

Darren

We stayed around Zack and Amelia's for a short while. Tyler needed the company. He needed to chat about things that had nothing to do with the past year, and I couldn't offer him that. He and Zack were discussing when they'd first met at college. I'd heard both of their versions alone, and now they were arguing about the actual events.

"I honestly thought you were starting on me," Zack said.

"You were a fucking dickhead with problems."

"Yeah, well, you know why I sat at the back in the corner? 'Cause I didn't want to talk to anyone."

"Well that was tough shit, wasn't it?"

He laughed his typical guffaw. "You know what it was like to suddenly have a little squirt like you sidling up to me?"

"'Little'? Wow. Lia, are you hearing this? I was trying to be friendly and he thought I was trying to start a fight."

"Go easy on him, Ty. He didn't always have social skills."

"He still doesn't. He managed to piss off four guys in a meeting and they tried to beat him up."

Zack held his arms out with a mocking glare. Tyler flinched back before returning it with his lip curl. They were chest-bumping, circling, making a snickering mockery of what I had seen that night. I felt a twinge, however light-hearted it was supposed to be.

"You want some?"

"Yeah?"

"C'mon you little bitch."

"Oh my God," Amelia said. "Boys, boys." They started shoving, then wrestling, and she clasped a hand to her brow.

I seriously considered moving off the sofa as they nearly tumbled onto it.

Tyler had his foot hooked around the back of Zack's knee and they were hopping, laughing, staggering, until Zack finally lost his balance and Tyler managed to land on top. The thud was so heavy I think the whole room shook.

"You think you can take me? I killed a man."

He went limp the moment he said it and Zack slammed him down. There was a pause of silence, both their faces fallen. Zack released him and sat back on his knees.

"I guess we're even now, huh."

"Yeah." Tyler sat up with a grunt, and ran a hand down his face. "Shit."

Zack's arm went around his shoulders. They stayed there, hugging. There was so much emotion on Amelia's face, and I wondered if as much showed on mine, too. It probably should have been a private moment between them, but neither seemed to care that we were there.

*

I stared in the mirror at home. I would forever have this scar on my cheek. It wasn't that bad, it just... ruined symmetry a little. I needed to get used to it. Every time I caught my reflection I wanted to brush at the mark, brush it off my face, as if it was something that wasn't supposed to be there.

I wondered what people who met me from now on would think of it. Where would they think it was from? What would it make them think of me? Did I look like someone who partook in violence now?

Tyler had that scar in his eyebrow, but it wasn't something I consciously thought about when I pictured his face. It was just a part of his look. Maybe that was how it would be with me, with people who met me. Some might ask where it was from. Was I going to spend a lifetime shrugging, replying 'car crash', the way Tyler just told people that he hit his head?

That stupid mark on my face didn't deserve all the thought I was giving it.

Tyler was sitting on the island counter in the kitchen, reading the packaging on something. I could fill my cupboards with ingredients and he would find a way to throw things together, to make something out of anything. I loved how his mind worked. It was why he worked in the labs. It was supposedly why I'd hired him.

"Darren," he said. "I think I need glasses."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He squinted and held the packaging further away from him. "I've always got headaches when I read too much, but now, I just can't read this tiny text. Do you think head injuries can make my eyes bad?"

"It can effect things. We should take you to get checked."

He grinned at me. "Would I look good with glasses?"

"It'd actually make you look slightly clever."

"Wow." He hopped down. "You know, I was thinking, maybe I shouldn't buy a second car of the same model. It just won't feel right. I don't know what to get. Maybe a Porsche or something, but I always thought they were pretty ugly."

"How much are you getting from insurance?"

"Almost replacement value. They're being pretty good."

"You should just get another Camaro," I said, heading for a drawer at the end of the counter.

"They did release a new design. Looks pretty beasty."

"It's a better-looking car than more expensive ones." I chucked the Lamborghini's keys at him. "Especially this fucking thing."

He caught the keys and frowned at them, then at me.

"Let's go for a drive," I said.

"Serious?"

"Yes."

He bolted out the front door, circling the thing before he unlocked it. "How long has it just been standing about? Will it even start, Darren?"

"I charged it last week."

"Holy fucking shit. It took you this long to psyche up?"

"Shut up and get in."

He sat behind the wheel, fiddling with the seat and mirrors. I gripped the dashboard, looking about at the interior. I hated the car. I hated how the doors opened. I hated its shape. It looked like a fucking alien bug.

It made some unhappy sounds when Tyler started the engine. A long series of squeaks before it growled. He revved it and looked at me with that boyish grin. I had to get out. I paced and rubbed my forehead. He got out too, sliding across the bonnet, gripping my waist and kissing me.

"Come on, you can do this."

We stood there for a moment while it chugged and snarled, waiting impatiently. It was a sound I felt more in my stomach than on my ears.

"You're driving," I said. "I might if I think I can."

We clambered in, he shifted into reverse and we started to roll. There was a constant tension in my muscles, but I didn't feel much else. I was sick and tired of my anxiety. I wanted to be done with it.

We left the gates and he never went very fast. He was just cruising, enjoying its power and control. The car felt so balanced and steady, I still didn't understand what had happened when it swung out of my control on that fateful day. It was the exact same model. The exact same colour.

"This is fucking awesome," he said. "Jesus Christ. I never thought I'd be driving a Lambo in my life."

"Go faster."

"Sure?"

"You've not even done above thirty yet."

I felt like Jamie. It was what he'd been like. 'Go faster. Go faster. Go on, pussy.' We had been stupid rich boys racing a stupidly expensive car. I watched Tyler's calm posture, going up a gear when the engine wanted it. He didn't seem to have that suicidal death wish that I did. He didn't have the urge to go fast, just because he could. The urge to play on train tracks, to skydive, to swim with sharks, just because I wanted to feel the danger.

Tyler liked excitement. He liked to have a good time. He didn't seek out danger. There was a difference.

I didn't know if it was my upbringing, or if it was some personality trait. I liked rules, I liked discipline, I liked order. Then I loved to shatter it with chaos, to lose control, just for a short while. I wanted to feel the adrenaline, but it was self destructive. I had taken it too far. It wasn't me who got hurt. It was others. I couldn't handle the adrenaline now. It just made me sick.

Maybe if I had ever known what real danger was, I would've had more respect for life. I knew what it was, now. Two car crashes and a brutal street fight later, I think I understood.

Tyler picked up speed and made a sharp turn. Feeling the tug of the seatbelt against my body was enough to start it. I tried to push it down, but it rose up. Even just acknowledging its existence made it stronger. Yet it was impossible to ignore.

"Tyler, stop." My voice strained. "Wait. Just a minute."

He pulled over and I got out, gasping for breath, clutching my head. The air was fresh. It was probably going to be a chilly night. It'd be dark in a couple of hours.

"You okay?" Tyler asked, leaning across the passenger seat.

I could do this. "Yes." I got back in and shut the door. "Keep going up here and turn right. I want to show you where I crashed."

"Are you sure? We're supposed to easing into this."

"Yes, I'm sure."

"You're diving in deep again."

"Just do it."

He drove us along those countryside roads, slowing around every bend, but they were just as empty as always. Everything was flooding back to me, a weight in my guts, but I was okay with it. I was facing it.

"I think it was here," I said. "No, wait, no. Further up." It almost all looked the same. We came to that long, straight line between two fields, and it struck me. This was where I had put my foot down. So reckless and clueless. Jamie laughing and hooting in my ear. "It's up here."

I spotted the tree and pointed it out. Tyler pulled over. It was a giant, beautiful oak, leaves turning gold and dropping with autumn. My body was heavy but I opened the door and clambered out. I was trembling, cold sweat making my shirt stick to me beneath the waistcoat. I probably looked a lot like Amelia as I stood there with one hand clasped over my mouth, taking it in.

The car fell into silence and the driver's door shut.

"This is it, huh?"

"Yes." I stepped closer. "Right here."

Tyler walked over to the tree and placed a hand on the trunk. There were still some obvious markings on it, where the bark had been damaged and healed over. All these years and that tree still beared the wounds.

"Come on," he said. "It's not gonna kill you."

I didn't feel the same desire to touch, I was content just looking at it. I stood beside him, felt his hand at the back of my head, stroking my hair. He was watching my face.

Parts of the road were cracked and raised by the oak's roots. Was that what had done it? I had initially lost control further back, though. Was it horse shit? Was it a smear of mud? Why had it happened? Why did it spin like that when I braked?

Jamie was gone forever. I missed him.

I still had wounds like that tree. I wasn't over it, even if I thought I was. But today I was going to start anew. I was going to accept it and move on. I was going to be a new person. A better person. My life needed me at the wheel.

"I'm driving," I said.

Tyler grinned, walking around to the other side. "No speeding."

I opened the door. "No."

"No drifting."

I sat inside with a grunt. "No."

He leant across and pecked my cheek. "I love you."

It was a strangely empty feeling. Being in control, but having to let go at the same time. The two extremes balanced each other out. I think I expected more. It was just a machine. Pedals and gearstick. I made it along the countryside roads, but once we headed back towards civilisation, I didn't want to be around other cars. My body ached from tension. I pulled over and we swapped seats.

*

It was getting dark once we got home. There was a definite cold breeze. Tyler shivered and jogged up to the door, crunching gravel and making the light come on.

He made me so thick with emotions.

He was still here. He'd been through my fears with me, protected me from some of them, and still had his energy, his smiles. I had initially kissed him because I liked what I saw on the outside, and I had struck gold with the person I found beneath.

I had a lot of luck. We were both lucky, to have survived what we did. He was lucky to be let off from what he'd done. The probation was just a cover, something to make a statement. He was a free man. I knew we weren't going to have trouble getting through it.

He was heading to the kitchen, but I wasn't really hungry. Not for food. I wanted him. His body. His taste.

He looked good today. He looked good every day but there was something about the current red shirt and black jeans combo. Maybe it was the way the hairs on his forearms were still standing from the chill outside. Maybe it was how all his tension and worry was evaporating and he seemed so happy to be alive.

He was saying something but I slid an arm around his middle, touched my lips to the back of his neck. He leant into me. My hand ran down his shirt, beneath his belt, beneath the snug fit of his jeans, following the hair down. He was already getting hard and the stroke and squeeze of my fingers finished it.

His head rested back against my shoulder. My free hand brushed over his exposed throat. He shuddered and groaned.

"Fuck," he breathed.

"I want you," I growled. "Right now."

I tasted the skin of his neck, sucked on it. It rippled through him and his hands grabbed at my hips. There were some things he couldn't resist. He could be so easy to control. I loved his heat, watching him lose himself in his lust, knowing that I was doing it to him. All he cared about was feeling good, and making me feel good. He was an incredible lover.

The best I'd ever had. And he was right there to have whenever I wanted.

We were straight up to my room. Once turned on, he was in tunnel vision. He usually instigated it first, but to come so heavily onto him was exhilirating - however much I wanted it, he usually got there before me. I'd finally caught him unaware at a random moment.

He wanted me. And he was so damn happy every time he got what he wanted. He was already unbuttoning my waistcoat and shirt as I pushed him onto the bed. Amazing things had already happened that day. It was time for more.

He kissed my chest, moving from one nipple to another while his hands squeezed my waist. He never liked to make it easy. He was such a hot bottom because he put up enough of a fight, while still being so willing and submissive. He made me feel like I earnt it. And he loved it. To see him enjoy being penetrated and fucked was what made it feel so good.

But there was another side to him. What if I didn't always want to win?

"Oh, shit," he moaned. I bit his ear, his throat, pushing him down with my body weight. His legs wrapped around my waist and pulled me closer. "Fuck me."

I pulled away. "No."

He sat up, I took another step back.

"I want you to fuck me."

He stared. I knew he wanted it. He'd been dropping the hints from the very start; he was waiting for me to want it, hoping I would. I'd been wanting it for a while. Life was in the way but now, none of that mattered. This was me, and him, the closed world in my bedroom.

I was sweating more than normal just thinking about it. I could feel it under my arms, on my chest. I almost couldn't breathe just from the look he was giving me.

He got to his feet, my heart raced. So many nerves, and it felt incredible. His hand touched my stomach, light as a feather. I flinched. He brushed it around my waist as he circled me, leaning in to nuzzle my ear, breathe through my hair.

"You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes." It was nearly a whisper.

"Hard?"

"Yes."

The chuckle rolled from his throat and he shoved me onto the bed. He was on top of me, grinding against my crotch, mouth on mine, forcing his tongue inside when my lips parted with a gasp. His fingers curled in my hair, holding my head down as he kissed my neck, across to a shoulder, down my chest.

"I want you to show me how to let go," I breathed.

His breath tickled me. "Don't you always let go?"

"I want to let go like you do."

He dragged his tongue across my stomach. "Then you have to want it as much as I do."

He moved back up to my face, pushing his hips into mine, rubbing his covered cock against mine. I groaned. It was already feeling so good. And it was firing me up.

He didn't know how to hold me down. Or maybe he wasn't trying. With a surge and a growl I rolled him over. He thought I was going to make this easy for him? "I want you to fuck me until I beg you to stop."

His eyes flickered with excitement. He fought back, wrestled, grinned and snarled. My arms were tired. My whole body was tired from the strain I'd put it through with the drive. I didn't give in. He won.

Even when below him I didn't stop. I needed to feel him overpower every inch of me.

He was continuing to undress me while wrestling me down. My belt came away from my trousers, but I wasn't expecting it when he wrapped it tight around my wrist and buckled it through the gaps on the headboard. He straddled me while he pulled off his own. I burst into laughter from the surprise and butterflies - he pinned me with a knee on my shoulder, shin across my chest. The whole weight of him was too much. My second arm was tied.

I tested my bounds, it wouldn't be easy to escape. And I didn't want to. Shit. What had I let myself in for.

He was grinning, running his hands down my body. "Are you gonna be good?"

"Do I have any choice?"

His fingers brushed my nipples. "I'll show you how to lose control."

Fucking hell.

He had everything else off me, and slowly started to undress himself. I strained against the belts again as the shirt slipped over his shoulders. The urge to touch his body was too strong. The jeans came off, he was so hard. Clothes might compliment him but he would always look best naked. A figure like his was supposed to be seen, scarred and marked as it was. Even his cock looked so perfect, symmetrical.

He leant over me, kissed me. I had just enough slack to relax my arms with my elbows bent, but not much else.

His touches were light, gentle. It felt like he was exploring my body again, as if it was the first time he was seeing it. Every so often his fingers would give a little squeeze, his palm would press harder, his tongue would come out from his lips.

I might not go crazy like he did when my neck was kissed, but it still sent shivers through me. He pulled my hair to keep my head back, giving him access to every inch of my throat. He found my pulse. I felt it when he pressed his tongue there.

Was the window open? I felt so chilled, aware of every cold line of sweat on my body. Heat radiated from him, warmed me wherever our skin touched.

His cock brushed against mine and I shuddered violently. He chuckled and finally gave it some attention, circling a finger around the head, smearing the pre-cum, then leaving a long wet line down my shaft.

"You always get so wet, Darren."

I grunted.

"I love it."

He was moving down, between my legs, tongue licking and tasting. He took me into his mouth and gave a single suck, then stopped. His hands ventured from my hips to my chest.

Fuck. He had full access to my nipples and I couldn't stop him. He gave both a pinch, then was twisting and turning, rolling between finger and thumb. It felt so good, then started to get so sensitive I couldn't take it. I was moaning and squirming, trying to escape with twists and bucks. My cock touched his with every throb and twitch. The arches of my spine couldn't push him away. He tugged harder.

"So sexy," he husked.

"It's not fair," I gasped.

"I know. I wish mine were as sensitive as yours." He leant down to suck and flick with his tongue. I groaned, arms and shoulders straining. Could I come from this? Why was I wired this way?

My legs wrapped around him, pulling him against me, needing some pressure against my crotch. It was an aching, a tension in my stomach. I needed release.

"Please, stop."

He bit me when he pulled away, making me shudder. He kissed down my stomach, licked up drips of pre-cum, tickled my balls with his tongue.

"Fuck, Tyler."

His tongue went lower still, teasing at my hole while his hands held my thighs.

Why the fuck were my arms tied? Heat was burning through me. I wanted to fuck him so hard. I was straining and squirming while his tongue worked my hole, never quite giving me enough. He held my legs down. I moaned and growled at the same time. Go deeper, damn it. Fuck me with your tongue.

He pulled away, gave me that lip curl, the snarling grin, eyes telling me how much he enjoyed what he was doing to me. I was seeing the wild side again, I was giving it domination and control over me.