Reconsider Me Read online

  “What fucking part of I do not do anal sex did I not make clear to you only about twelve dozen fucking times! I am a side, and this is who I am, so stop trying to change me!”

  He hadn’t meant to scream it, but from the way Tom flinched, and from how raw Fen’s throat now felt, he realized that’s exactly what he’d done.

  But Fen wasn’t done.

  “You’re a fucking Dominant, so RED, SAFEWORD, or just plain NO. I have made that clear, and you’re bound and determined to fucking ignore me. So I’m done!” Fen turned and stomped down the hall to the guest bath, where he’d left a couple of things.

  That was all he’d left there, fortunately.

  He was aware of Tom hurrying down the hall after him. Fen blinked back angry tears by the time he got there and hit the light switch. He shook Tom’s hand from his shoulder before reaching into the shower to grab his shampoo, conditioner, body wash, facial scrub. Everything. It was the principle of the matter, not the cost of the product.

  Even though it was expensive product.

  He wanted no trace of himself left behind. Clean break.

  Hard stop.

  “Babe, please. Come on. Talk to me. You don’t want to, then we won—”

  “How long before you fucking try to talk me into it again, huh? This is not the first damn time we’ve gone ’round over this, Tom.”

  Fen snatched his body lotion, toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, and mouthwash from the medicine cabinet and shoved past him back to the hall. “We go through this, and you promise to back off, and then pretty soon, you start in again, trying to pressure me in little ways. No. Not again. I’m done.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you being such a bitch about this? It’s not a big deal! Lots of people have bad shit happen to them, and you know what they do? They adult, they fucking get over it, and they move the fuck on. You not doing anything about it’s only keeping you held hostage to the past.”

  When Fen turned, it took every ounce of self-control he had not to start pelting Tom with every damn bottle and tube he held in his arms. “If it’s not a big deal, then why the fuck can’t you accept this is who I am, and that I don’t owe you a goddamned explanation for why I am the way I am?” Tom hadn’t heard the full version.

  Looked like he never would, either.

  Tom glared at him, then held his hands up in supplication. “Okay. Fine. I tried being patient with you. You want to overreact like this, instead of talking to me like a goddamned adult and trying to work on moving past what happened to you, then fucking leave.”

  “I have talked to you. You fucking ignore me. It shouldn’t matter to you why. All that should matter is I say, ‘This is a goddamned hard limit,’ and you say, ‘Okay.’”

  “Yeah? Well, good luck with that. Try finding someone else who will treat you half as good as I did with you not putting out. I was trying to be patient so I could teach you that it wasn’t anything bad. You’re just being stubborn. It’s like a straight guy with a woman who won’t let him fuck her. It won’t last very damn long. You don’t want to get fucked every time, okay, I get that, no problem. But you’re gonna spend a lot of years alone, asshole, you don’t learn to put out every once in a while. Blow jobs get boring, you know. Grow up, you fucking cocktease. Not like it’ll kill you or anything.”

  Stunned, Fen stared at him for a moment, unable to believe what he’d just heard come out of Tom’s mouth.

  How did I ever think he was gorgeous? How did I ever trust him?

  Fen wheeled around and headed for the front door. He almost dropped stuff while getting the door open, but he made damn sure to fucking slam it behind him.

  In his car, he dumped everything onto the passenger seat and wiped away tears before starting the car and pulling out.

  Tom didn’t even come to the door to watch him go.

  Well, that wasn’t so hard after all.

  Except it sure as hell hurt like fuck. A lot more than it usually did.

  Especially since he wasn’t at all sure any more Tom might not be a little bit right.

  Chapter Two

  I cannot believe I am doing this.

  That Wednesday night, Joel Burch sat in someone else’s living room, on their sofa, feeling like he was currently undergoing something right out of the Spanish Inquisition.

  Nooooobody expects it.

  He sure as hell hadn’t.

  When Joel agreed to attend a dinner with Keith and Leo at their mutual friend’s home to see what they could do about finding him someone, he hadn’t realized it was going to turn into…this.

  June, Cali, Abbey, and Eliza stared at him from their various standing or seated positions, shooting rapid-fire questions at him until Landry, the home’s owner, finally laughed and held up his hands.

  “My dear ladies, might I suggest a less adversarial approach? He came here in good faith, not knowing what to expect. You have all downshifted into ‘asshat Dom’ mode when that is not the case at all. He is the one coming to you for assistance.”

  June, who terrified Joel for some unknown reason despite her tiny size, leaned back first. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

  Joel cast a glance over at Keith, who smiled and nodded. “You’re doing great, buddy.”

  “You know, I’ve had colonoscopies that were less invasive and more comfortable than this.”

  Eliza burst into laughter. “Sorry, but that’s funny.”

  “Look,” Leo said, “Keith and I vouch for him. I’ve known him a couple of years now. I didn’t know he was gay or kinky until recently. He’s gainfully employed and I haven’t met anyone who’s ever said a bad word about him.”

  “Ditto,” Keith said. “Go easy on him, huh?”

  Bob walked into the room. “Dinner’s ready.”

  Joel still wasn’t quite sure what the deal was with him. Bob was barefoot and wore a leather collar, but was dressed in jeans and a button-up shirt. Joel knew Landry was married to Tilly, who was currently out of town in LA. She’d had to fly out last night for a work emergency, or she would have been there, too. Cris, their other partner, was currently at a neighbor and co-worker’s home with their young daughter, keeping tiny ears away from their adult conversation. But apparently they were a triad or a quad or…something. Both Leo and Keith had been kind of circumspect regarding them, and Joel got the feeling the poly group was sort of closed-mouthed about the deets regarding their relationship.

  Which wasn’t a big deal to him, he was simply curious.

  Leo slowly pried himself out of his chair and walked over to Joel, patting him on the shoulder. “But now you see why they were dubbed the ‘Frightful Five.’”

  Abbey snorted with laughter. “Be thankful Chelbie’s morning sickness is all-day sickness, or she’d be here, too. She wanted to be, but we finally convinced her that her sitting with a bucket in her lap and puking her guts up while we were trying to talk might be counterproductive.”

  Joel blanched. “Thanks.”

  Abbey shrugged. “Hey, we’re sadists, not assholes.”

  Landry chuckled. “That’s my line, my dear.”

  “Actually,” June said, “I think Kaden is the one I heard say it first, years ago. It sort of filtered around between Ross and Tony and others.”

  “God, I miss that sadist,” Abbey quietly said. Her eyes suddenly looked too bright, and she brushed her fingers across them. “There’s still days I can’t believe he’s gone.”

  A poignant pause filled the group for a moment, some of them obviously having known the man. Joel kept his mouth shut, not wanting to be an asshole.

  June forced a smile. “Didn’t mean to bring everyone down, sorry.” She walked over to Joel and stuck her hand out to shake with him. “And sorry for the interrogation. Straight, gay, bi, pan, ace—doesn’t matter. Before we start pairing people up, we like to know someone’s not an asshole. If it’s any consolation, we grill subs just as hard as we grill you Dom types. Crazy exists on both sides of the slash.”

&n
bsp; That was the only reason he hadn’t left yet, because Keith and Leo had assured him that if he was serious about finding a life partner—locally—who was truly compatible with him for the long-haul, this was his best bet.

  For that alone, he was willing to endure this.

  “No worries,” he said. “I appreciate it. And believe me, it’ll be well worth it if you do find me a unicorn.”

  “Maybe we should have called ourselves ‘The Unicorn Hunters,’” Eliza said.

  * * * *

  Dinner was amazing, and once Landry had assured Joel that Bob was happy to play butler-slash-waiter for them for the evening, he shoved aside any discomfort he’d had about the guy serving their food and basically waiting on them.

  Landry sat at the head of the table, and had given Joel the opposite end so everyone could more easily see and talk to him. The questioning eased up quite a bit in tone, although the topics were now more detailed, personal.

  Uncomfortable.

  Which was exactly why he answered every question to the best of his ability.

  “Do you have any restrictions on age difference?” June asked.

  He thought about it. “Not really. I mean, I’m not particularly interested in dating someone who just turned eighteen. If a guy is younger than me but very mature and put together in his life, I’m cool with that. Likewise, if a guy is older than me, as long as he hasn’t forgotten how to have fun, that’s fine, too.”

  Landry posed the question Joel was surprised hadn’t come sooner in the evening. “Why haven’t we seen you around Venture, or the munches, before now?”

  “I had a bad experience back in Mobile. I met a guy at a munch and we hit it off. There were a few minor things I gave him a pass on, because you know, new relationship, sometimes people just come off weird when they’re really eager. About a month in, I realized he was the bad kind of crazy. As in, I finally got around to running a background check on him, realized he was seriously crazy, and I ended it.

  “Then he went running around to people, anyone he even thought I knew, and basically outed me. Not only as gay, but kinky.”

  “You weren’t out?” Landry asked. “As gay?”

  “Not to my family, I wasn’t. A few close friends knew, but considering the climate there, life was a lot easier for me staying under the radar. Only a couple of the friends who knew I was gay also knew I was kinky. I lost my job, lost a lot of family, lost friends. And the friends who already knew I was gay and kinky kept their distance, because they were worried Johnny would come after them next.”

  “Johnny?”

  “My ex. So I ended up leaving Mobile, both because I wanted to get far away from Johnny and because I needed a new job. I found a job down here, and have been here over eight years now. I have to admit I love it.”

  “But you’re understandably gun-shy,” Landry commented.

  “Absolutely.”

  Keith laughed. “You guys have no idea how long it took me and Leo both working on him to convince him to come meet everyone tonight.”

  “Months,” Leo added.

  “I’m also not real fond of Internet dating,” Joel said. “I’ve met some decent guys, but no one who struck me as ‘life partner’ material. A lot of them, their idea of S&M means ‘Stand and Model.’ That’s not counting all the tools and assholes and narcissists I met in the process.” He shook his head. “I’m not looking for a quick hook-up, either. I don’t do one-night stands. I’m thirty-eight, and I’m tired of being alone, or settling for a relationship that only fulfills part of my needs. Leo and Keith assured me that privacy is sacrosanct amongst your group, so…” He shrugged. “Here I am. They trust y’all, so I guess unless someone gives me a reason not to trust y’all, I’ll trust you, too.”

  * * * *

  By the time Joel left Landry’s house a little after ten that night, his head was spinning.

  Was he seriously considering turning himself over to a group of people he barely knew, had literally just met, to play matchmaker for him?

  Apparently, because he’d already done it.

  At least he’d made new friends.

  Oh, sure, he had friends. Lots of friends. Friends who knew he was gay, and even gay friends.

  What had been lacking for a while were kinky friends, because that wasn’t exactly something you discussed at the average tapas and wine meet-up. “Hey, know any good masochistic bottoms who aren’t crazy assholes?”

  Nope.

  He lived in a small, one-bedroom condo on the fifth floor in a ten-story building in the Laurel Park neighborhood, overlooking Sarasota Bay, just south of the Ringling Bridge. The good news was that he had quiet neighbors, a gorgeous fricking view of the water, and lived in a building and neighborhood with very low crime.

  The bad news was there was no way in hell he’d ever hook up with anyone from his building.

  The reason for that being that most of his neighbors were sixty and older.

  For what he was paying in rent, he probably could have rented a large house, or a larger apartment somewhere else, but he loved the view, enjoyed the quiet.

  And he’d found himself the frequent recipient of baked goods from caring neighbors who’d all sort of adopted him as a son. Or, in some cases, a grandson. Especially when he frequently ended up roped into helping fix a little something in their apartment that they couldn’t do themselves and needed done right then instead of calling a professional. Like replacing the guts in a toilet that wouldn’t stop running, or replacing a light bulb in a ceiling fixture.

  He also never lacked for dinner companionship, if he wanted it. All he had to do was hang out for about five minutes in the lobby by the mailboxes, or at the building’s pool, and he’d have all the invitations he could handle. He’d never have to pay for groceries, much less cook for himself, if he took everyone up on their invites.

  There were far worse places to live. Even if he was the building’s youngest resident, and the only single gay male, he still enjoyed living there.

  And they all knew he was gay. Surprisingly, he’d had far less negativity from his neighbors than he’d thought he might. The “worst” reaction he’d had was one older, widowed man who basically did little more than nod his head in greeting when he saw Joel, and that was it.

  Refreshing.

  One of the more interesting reactions was three of his neighbors trying to hook him up with family members who were also gay, usually by inviting him over for dinner.

  Fortunately, in all three cases, the other men were also indulging their relative and had no honest expectations of wanting to date Joel.

  When he reached his apartment, he found a foil-wrapped loaf of something he guessed was banana nut bread sitting on the floor next to his door. Smiling, he picked it up and read the sticky note taped to the top.

  Thank you for fixing my faucet! — Carla.

  Carla Jorgenson, one floor up. An eighty-two-year-old widow with three kids who lived out of state. Her neighbor had called Joel yesterday afternoon to see if he could help her out, and after only five minutes, he’d tightened the loose connector under her sink that was leaking, saving her a call to a plumber.

  He called her, knowing the night owl would still be up. “You’re very welcome, but you didn’t have to make me anything.” He peeled back a corner of the foil and deeply inhaled, knowing what he’d be having for breakfast in the morning.

  “You took time out of your day to help me, and I appreciate it.” She laughed. “And I know how much you love my banana nut bread.”

  “You are a dream, Carla. Thank you, darlin’.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  After ending the call, he deposited the loaf on his counter and headed to his bedroom. He needed to be up and moving early tomorrow. He had a double engine overhaul coming into the marina tomorrow—an older twin inboard on a high-dollar antique cruiser—that would be a pain in his ass until they finished it and got it out again, but it would also be a lucrative job. And considering the bo
at’s owner was a well-known real estate broker in Sarasota, handling high-dollar properties, that meant if Joel finished the job quickly, on time—or early—and done right, he’d receive invaluable word-of-mouth referrals from the man.

  Definitely do not want to fuck that up.

  With a full tummy, and thoughts of toasted banana nut bread awaiting him for breakfast, he headed for bed.

  He didn’t want to think about the Frightful Five or their promise to start working on finding him some worthy prospects. It would happen, or it wouldn’t, without any input from him.

  He was no worse off for having met with them, and if they succeeded?

  Well, maybe he’d finally stop feeling so damn lonely.

  Chapter Three

  Thursday morning, Fen awoke with his eyes crusted with goo and feeling like they were swollen to the size of ping pong balls. He’d spent most of yesterday with a horrible headache that had made work miserable. When Jake had stopped by Fen’s cube to check on him, Fen had apologized and told Jake that he couldn’t talk about anything but work that day.

  I should explain it to him.

  Jake had seemed to understand and had left him alone after gently patting him on the shoulder.

  He considered Jake and Ben friends. Kinky friends, not just gay friends. Although Jake was technically bi.

  Didn’t matter.

  They had always been good guys.

  They hadn’t pried in the past when Fen talked about breakups, either. So they didn’t know that bit of minutiae about him that had the power to nuke every relationship he’d had thus far.

  After plodding through his day yesterday and arriving home last night, he’d cried himself to sleep, all too familiar with this pattern. He would mourn the death of yet another relationship, the loss of yet another fantastic guy most men would kill or willingly surrender a testicle to have a chance with.

  Saying good-bye to yet another dream he never should have considered having in the first place.

  Yet here stupid him was, sticking to his guns and sabotaging otherwise perfection—again.