Beautifully Complicated (Front Range University #4)

16. Aiden

Chapter sixteen

Aiden

“ A iden Sinclair it is the day after Christmas, you can’t possibly be serious about going back to school.” My mother stands in the doorway of my room as I pack, almost as if she intends to block the exit.

“I have so much to do, I’ll be behind if I don’t leave today.”

“Behind on what? Classes don’t start until January.”

“I still have all my research work.” I stuff my folded sweatshirts into my suitcase, smooshing them down so there’s room for my jeans.

“That professor you work for is forcing you to give up time with your family to be his free labor?”

“He isn’t making me come back from break early, I’m choosing to. I want to finish this project before graduation because it’ll be a big deal to have it on my applications going forward.”

“Applications for what? School or work?” My mom puts her hands on her hips, a telltale sign she’s losing patience.

I’ve gone over my future options with my parents, and the fact I’m wavering on what to do concerns them since that’s out of character. I told them I’m exploring both options because while I want to do grad school, it’s possible any company I go to work for would foot the bill for that, in which case it’d be silly to pay out of pocket.

Too bad they know my grades would most likely make me eligible for significant scholarship money, rendering the whole work versus school argument moot, if the extra degree is what I want.

“Both. The stuff I’m working on is cutting edge. It’s like a golden ticket, if I can finish.”

Just then Conor, my brother-in-law, comes to check on things, and my mom throws her hands in the air with a little you talk to him gesture and stomps away.

“You’re really gonna leave early and make me deal with her moping by myself, A?” he asks.

“What about your wife?”

“Another female.”

“My dad?”

The two of us catch each other’s eye and crack up laughing. Dad is the only person in the house who can get away with ignoring my mom, which he does regularly since she likes to talk. God love her, but it’s hard to get a word in around the woman. You’re expected to listen intently, unless you’re my dad.

“Seriously, what’s the rush? And don’t tell me it’s work. You can’t bullshit a bullshitter. It’s a guy, isn’t it?” he asks as he reclines against the headboard and kicks his feet on the bed.

This is why I love Conor. There’s no drama. No judgment. Just support.

“Yeah, it’s a guy.”

“She’d probably understand that you know.” When I pack my pants instead of responding, he groans, “What aren’t you saying?"

“You can’t tell anyone.”

Conor rolls his eyes. “You’re not twelve anymore, A.”

“I know. But this is… In a few months it won’t be a big deal, but right now it is.”

“Right now it’s…” Conor’s face turns serious. “Tell me you’re not sleeping with your professor.”

“He’s not my professor.”

“ Aiden .”

“He’s not. He’s my boss. Or mentor? You could make an argument for both I guess.”

Conor’s head thunks against the wall.

“And technically,” I continue, “he wasn’t either the first time we… The only time we… you know.”

“Let me get this straight.” Conor sighs. “You hooked up with a guy you didn’t know only to find out later he’s your new boss?”

“Technically, I did know him, although he didn’t know me. But yes, at that time neither of us knew I’d end up working for him.”

“Back up.” Conor shakes his head like that’ll somehow make the pieces fall into place. “How do you know someone that doesn’t know you?”

“He’s kind of famous. In certain circles.”

“Okay, I see how this goes. You get picked up by the celebrity and then have the misfortune of getting stuck working for him.”

“Technically, I did the picking up.”

Conor groans. “Are you or are you not technically dating someone you’re not supposed to?”

“Actually, no. We won’t date until I graduate. He’s been very clear on that.”

“At least someone’s thinking with the head on their shoulders,” Conor mumbles.

“Hey, that’s—” my brother-in-law shoots me a wry look, so I finish that objection with “—fair.”

My brother-in-law shoots me a sly look before he abruptly stills. “How old is this guy? We’re not talking about gray hair, are we?”

“No! Of course not.”

“Well, he is a professor. Older or younger than me?”

“Younger. He’s thirty-two.”

“That’s only three years younger than me.” Conor winces like that’s too close for comfort.

“And only ten years older than me, so it’s really not that crazy. It’s not like he could be my dad or anything.”

“That’s a thought I didn’t need in my head.” A shiver wracks through his body. “Tell me how can you be sure this guy will wait around until you graduate? No offense, but ten years is still kind of a big deal, and dating a student at the school you work for, even if you aren’t his student, sounds like professional suicide.”

I wet my lips nervously. “After that first night, he tried looking for me. And when he didn’t find me, he took a job at the university because he hoped being in Colorado would make the search easier, since we met in Denver.”

Conor’s eyebrows shoot to the sky. “No bullshit?”

“No bullshit.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t sound totally convinced, but he doesn’t try to tell me I’m wrong either. “Tell me about him.”

“He’s Irish. Or at least his adoptive parents are, and he’s not a bloody bohemian. I checked.” Conor smiles proudly, so I continue. “The Matrix made him want to study computers, but he likes M. Night Shyamalan and the Coen brothers.”

“The dude abides,” Conor recites.

“That’s what I said. He likes IPAs instead of Guinness, he cooked me Thanksgiving dinner—it was a meal kit—but still. He’s merging AI with prosthetics to help his dad get back to running after he lost his leg in a car accident, and he forgave me for pretending I didn’t know who he was when we met. Ooh, he also watched Into the Spider Verse just because I like it. And he’s gorgeous. Tall, dark, and handsome, gorgeous.”

“Damn, A. I was expecting you to tell me superficial shit like his favorite food or favorite color, but you went straight to the deep stuff.”

It hadn’t occurred to me until just now that I don’t know the superficial stuff. I’d rather know the deep things, but the rest would be good to know too.

“This is the real deal then?” Conor asks.

I nod solemnly.

“When do we meet him?”

Whoa, that’s not at all what I was expecting.

“You aren’t going to say it’s too fast or too reckless?” I brace for his answer since Conor always tells me the truth. It’s a rule we have.

“It can be both those things and still be real. I don’t know if you remember when I first started dating your sister, but we didn’t take the long route. We moved in together within the first three months—which really pissed your folks off by the way—and were married about a year after. But she and I knew from the start what we had, so what seemed fast and reckless to everyone else seemed right to us.”

“That’s exactly how I feel about Kier.”

“Strong Irish name,” Conor says. “I like it.”

“You’ll like him, too. When you meet him at graduation.” I stuff my socks and underwear in the suitcase and seal it up. “Drive me to the bus station?”

Conor shakes his head. “You know your mom is expecting me to talk you out of leaving, and now you’re making me complicit in your escape. This is gonna cost you big time.”

“Name your price.”

“Tea party.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Take your niece out for a tea party when we come for graduation. It’s all she wants to do, and if I have to eat any more of those tiny sandwiches that taste like air it just might kill me, swear to God.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll take her out for tea.”

“Good.” Conor beams like he’s just closed a major deal, but before he gets off the bed, he turns serious. “Promise me you’ll be careful, A. Even if this guy isn’t your teacher, it sounds like you both think this thing could be frowned upon if you’re hiding it. Just don’t do anything to jeopardize your future.”

“I won’t.”

***

I keep my promise for as long as it takes to get back to campus, but the moment I’m unpacked I head to the lab.

That in and of itself isn’t a big deal, but the fact that I’m bearing gifts could be seen as crossing the line.

Good thing no one else is around.

“What’s this?” Keir looks at me incredulously when I hand him an oversized package.

“You understand the concept of unwrapping things to answer that question, right?” I snark right back.

“Brat,” he mutters as he tears into the paper, looking a little pale as he takes in his gift. “A sled?”

“I figure you might need to work up to a snowboard, and this way you can get a taste of the mountain without worrying about your arms and legs going a million different directions.”

“That can happen on a sled, too. I’ve seen it.” Kier eyes the sled with apprehension.

“Only if you go over a jump, and we’ll be sure to stay away from those.”

“We? You’re planning to do this with me?”

“Of course.”

He worries his lip. “That makes it sound a little more tolerable. What about the heated jacket? I need one of those too.”

“Well, aside from the fact I’d need a raise to afford one of those, you really don’t need it outside the mountains. You’ll work up a pretty good sweat walking up the hill. I can give you hand warmers for your gloves though.”

He gives me a withering look. “You’re lucky you’re so cute, otherwise I’d never consider this.”

I wet my lip suggestively. “I know.”

Kier stares at my mouth for a beat before forcibly looking away. “I got you something too.” He hands me a small, heavy gift bag, and I gasp when I pull out a bottle of Knappogue Castle.

“You remembered?” I gape at him.

“I remember everything about that night, Leanbh. Everything.”

I’m so close to kissing him I have to fist my hand to the point my blunt nails leave a visible indent. How will I make it to graduation without touching him?

“Drink?” My voice is scratchy when I finally find it.

“I’m not sure we should,” he hedges.

“Just one. I have a few questions I want to ask you.”

Kier regards me warily. “Okay.”

We sink to the floor, which has become an uncomfortable yet normal position for us to talk. I open the bottle and take a sip of the honied liquid before passing it to Kier. “I realized there are some very basic things I don’t know about you, so I think we should have a little Q and A. A speed round where you say the first thing that comes to mind.”

Kier takes his own sip then wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, shaking off the bite of the liquor. “Okay,” he rasps.

“I’ll start. Favorite color,” I begin.

“Green. Yours?”

“Blue. Favorite food.”

“Hamburgers.”

“Really?” I wrinkle my nose. “I figured you’d say something Irish like stew.”

“Stew was a staple. Hamburgers were for special occasions,” he rationalizes.

“Makes sense.”

“What about you? What’s your favorite?”

He passes the bottle back to me and I take a sip. “Steak.”

“Oh, you’re the expensive date guy?” He smiles coyly.

“I’d never turn down a good burger, but like you said, you like the things that were for special occasions. For us that was steak. Next question. Chocolate, vanilla or strawberry?”

“Vanilla.”

“Same.” I use the word we’ve barely spoken since that first night, which does not go unnoticed if the flare of heat in Kier’s eyes is any indication. “Favorite place you’ve traveled?”

“Switzerland.”

I wrinkle my nose again. “The guy who doesn’t love the mountains went to the Alps?”

“Not the Alps. CERN. I saw the Hadron Collider.”

“Okay, favorite non-work-related travel.” I pass him the bottle.

“Same answer. And I never said I don’t like the mountains; I don’t like the cold. Mountains are incredible. What about you?” Kier takes another sip of whiskey.

“Belize. But only the jungle part. They have these ancient caves that words just can’t describe.”

“Belize?” Kier’s head tilts to the side. “I’ve never heard of anyone going to Belize before.”

“It’s a Denver thing, I think, since it's a direct four-hour flight to the second largest reef in the world.”

“Huh,” Kier marvels. “Where’s someplace you’d like to go?”

“Japan.”

“Really? How come?”

“They’re doing some really interesting things with robotics. They have great snowboarding. There’s almost zero crime, midday naps are encouraged, you can get square watermelons, and they have a penis festival.”

Kier coughs up the whiskey he’d been trying to swallow. “A what?”

“It’s technically a celebration of fertility, but it’s all about the penis. There are penis hats, penis shaped candy, people literally worship the penis.”

“Do they… Let them out?” Kier almost whispers that last part.

“I don’t think so, but I wouldn’t object to a little eye candy. Would you?”

“I’m good with just yours.” He sputters and turns tomato red as soon as he realizes what he said, nervously glancing my way.

“You haven’t seen it in months.” I shift to relieve the sudden and intense pressure behind my zipper, the idea of showing one another the desire we feel after such prolonged distance all-consuming.

“Leanbh,” he groans. “Move on to another topic.”

“I like this one.” I stand my ground, knowing it’s ill-advised but feeling too touch-starved and horny to care. Besides, campus is empty, the building is deserted…why shouldn’t we allow ourselves this one moment of happiness during what’s supposed to be the happiest time of year?

“You’re playing a dangerous game here,” Kier warns.

“I know.” I shift again.

My cock plumps on the regular around Kier—how could it not—but it usually doesn’t amount to more than a semi since we’re so cautious to avoid saying or doing anything that might be considered temptation. Aside from a few heated looks, and the occasional brush of our fingers, we’ve been exceptionally good for months. Borderline saints. And I’m over it.

Sorry Conor.

“Take your dick out.” I tell Kier.

“What?” He caps the whiskey and sets it aside, no doubt blaming it for my loose lips. He might have a small point, but it’s more carnal need than lowered inhibitions that have me requesting he release his cock.

“You heard me. I won’t touch it. I just want to see it.” I lick my lip, more in anticipation than to deliberately bait him, yet knowing full well what that gesture will do to him.

“That’s… I really shouldn’t.” Kier’s hand twitches over his lap, but he’s otherwise as still as a statue.

“Isn’t it uncomfortable trapped inside your pants? Mine is.” My hips seem to strain upward though I’m doing my damndest to stay still.

Eyes glued to my crotch, he whispers, “Show me.”

Figuring I have about two seconds before he changes his mind, I race to undo my pants, shoving them to the top of my thighs so my dick is free of all restrictions.

Kier sighs as his eyes flutter shut. “So beautiful.”

I look at my dick, standing proud between my legs. It’s as hard as it’s ever been, slightly pink at the tip, lurching sporadically in search of friction.

“Now you.” My voice is so hoarse I barely recognize it, but Kier hears the lust, and rushes to do as I instruct.

Pants shoved down, his dick sprouts upward from a tuft of dark hair, standing as tall as mine. My fingers ache to hold it, to close it in my fist and stroke, savoring the smooth skin wrapped around his taut shaft. But I promised I wouldn’t, so I grab mine instead, crying out in relief the instant my nerves get the friction they want.

“Leanbh,” Kier groans beside me, fisting his own cock in a grip that covers all but his swollen crown.

“Oh, God.” I sigh as I flex my hand around my length. “I remember how it felt when you held me. Gentle at first, pumping long and slow.” My hand moves in time with my words, crawling leisurely up and down my cock. “Almost like you were committing me to memory.”

“I was,” Kier grits beside me.

“Your hand felt so good. Soft but tight. Squeezing me to see what sort of pressure I like.”

Once again, the motion of my hand mimics my words. Mirroring me, Kier works his own length, groaning with unrestrained need.

The sound takes me back to that first night, when all inhibitions were ignored and we were free to indulge in each other fully. What I wouldn’t give to have that again right now. To feel his need. Taste his arousal.

Watching isn’t the same, but given the circumstances, it’ll have to do. And I suppose it’s not completely futile. There’s an intimacy to it that’s surprisingly potent. Touching yourself under the watchful eye of another requires almost as much trust as giving them free reign over your body, with a slight element of the taboo. It’s shockingly arousing.

“Fuck this is hot. You like it?” I ask.

He grunts affirmatively.

“Show me.”

Kier swipes the finger of his free hand over his slit and holds the glistening digit up for my inspection. Instinct takes over and I open my mouth so he can wipe the drop over my tongue, shuddering when I close my lips around his finger and gently suck.

His taste is faint, but I recognize it instantly. So does my body, my cock jolting inside my fist.

“Leanbh,” he whispers my name with desperation and takes his finger away.

“God, I wish I could taste all of you right now.” I tug my aching shaft.

“We can’t. Even this…” he pants as he strokes himself. “Even this is going too far.”

“I still haven’t touched you,” I justify as my hips try to chase my fist, mimicking how I’d like to move inside him.

“We can’t do it again. Not while—”

“I know.”

“Play with your balls,” Kier begs. “Play with them and let me see all of your cock.”

Though it physically pains me to move my hand, I do, reaching between my legs to fondle my sac so Kier can have an unobstructed view of my dick. He does the same, letting me see how swollen and red he is.

I suspect this is a delay tactic, a way to prolong this one moment of weakness since we don’t know when we’ll get another, but despite the ache in my groin, I have no objections. I don’t want this to end too soon either, so I’ll gladly deny my release if it means more time with him, like this.

We both rut into the air while groping our nuts, frantically straining for something to relieve the throbbing in our dicks. It’s the dirtiest, most carnal thing I’ve ever seen or participated in, yet it’s also one of the most beautiful. A symbol of our lust, the yearning we feel for one another. I fucking love it.

The effect we have on each other is nothing short of euphoric. A physical and emotional connection that breathes life into my soul and makes my body vibrate with desire.

If I feel this way now, will I even survive it when we can finally touch?

My cock begs for friction—my hand, Kier’s dick, his mouth—anything that might calm the growing flame of desire.

“Kier,” I groan as the pressure mounts. “I need to fuck my fist.”

“Do it,” he rasps, wrapping his left hand around his cock while his right searches for mine. I take it, muffling a relieved cry as I link our fingers together for the first time in months. Then my free hand reaches for my swollen length.

The sigh I emit when I grab my shaft is downright hedonistic, matched in carnality only by Kier’s own ragged groan. That sigh quickly turns to a whimper as I watch his hand shuttling furiously over his dick, pumping with such urgency there’s no doubt in my mind his release is imminent.

I increase my own pace in a frenzied attempt to keep up, to come at the same time he does so that we’re bonded not just in our lust but our nirvana. Whether it’s the pace of my fist or the sight of his cum spurting from his tip I can’t say, but the moment he explodes I do too, coating my hand in months of pent-up agony.

Bodies twitching, we both moan as the aftershocks ripple through us, linked fingers turning white from the strain of holding each other the only way we can. It feels both tragic and beautiful.

Slumped against the wall, legs splayed wide as our sticky cocks go soft against our thighs, Kier and I are both too boneless to move for what feels like an eternity. I’m vaguely aware of the hand holding his going numb, though I make no attempt to move it. I’d rather suffer the pins and needles than let go.

When Kier finally comes back to his body, it’s with an obvious start. “Leanbh. Shit.” He gets up and grabs us each some paper towels to clean up. “I can’t believe we… That can’t…”

“I know.” I wipe away the evidence covering my body. “But don’t expect me to regret that, because I don’t.”

“I don’t either,” he whispers softly, his blue eyes full of an emotion both of us have been careful not to name.

Mustering strength I don’t feel I try to act normal. “See you tomorrow?”

“Actually, no. I have some meetings out-of-town over the next few days.” He doesn’t elaborate further, leaving me no choice but to pretend I’m not dying to know details.

“We’re supposed to get snow the thirty-first.” I stand and tuck myself away. “Want to try out your new sled?”

“Is that safe?”

“I know some out-of-the-way spots. Meet here first?” I hand Kier the paper towels so he can throw them away.

“Yeah.” He puts my bottle back in the gift bag and hands it to me, fingertips deliberately brushing against mine. “Merry Christmas, Leanbh.”

“Merry Christmas Kier.”

We stare at each other’s mouths for a beat, fighting the urge to say goodbye with our lips the way we really want. Then we leave the lab one at a time.