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"I'm the fucking idiot who turned your cellphone off. Not you. It was me, Blaine. I'm the one responsible for all of this." Trent scrunched shut his eyes and bravely waited for the blow to fall -- the blow that would crush his heart and shatter his world.
It never came.
Hearing Blaine sob aloud, Trent cracked one eye open and found his boyfriend huddled in his father's arms. His heart took an immediate nosedive when he saw the gut-wrenching grief on Sean Matthew's face. The tenderness with which the older man hugged Blaine brought a fresh batch of tears to his eyes.
Mumbling another apology, he decided it would be best if he left. He was the outsider, the reason the entire family was grieving, and he would rather walk the long way home than stand around and be a constant reminder of their loss.
He cast one final look at his, no doubt, soon-to-be ex-boyfriend before turning to go. It didn't take a genius to figure out Blaine was heartbroken about the death of his newborn brother. Yet even knowing his relationship with Blaine was over and done with, it still proved quite difficult for him to convince his feet to take the necessary steps that would lead him away from the one person he needed to be with the most. Unfortunately for him, it appeared Blaine didn't need him as much as he needed Blaine.
"See ya, Budman," he whispered softly and turned away.
He hadn't even cleared the rear of Blaine's truck when he was hauled into a fierce hug. At first he thought it was Mr. Matthews embracing him, but when he felt the hot scald of tears on his neck and the silky brush of hair across his cheek, he realized it was Blaine. His heart nearly wept with joy.
"Say you forgive me, Blaine. Please." He dug his hands into the back pockets of Blaine's jeans and held on with all his might. "I know I don't deserve it, but please say you forgive me."
"There's nothing to forgive," a gruff voice answered.
Trent glanced up just as Blaine's father stepped forward and embraced them both. "I spoke with Allanah's doctor just before my plane landed," Sean said, "and he told me there was really nothing anyone could have done. If Allanah had been in the hospital at the time, maybe it would have been a different story but--"
"See? It was my fault." Trent jerked away and started hitting himself with his fists. "Mrs. A would have been at the hospital if I hadn't--"
"No, Trent."
His hands were caught in a firm grip, and once again he was pulled into a rib-cracking hug. "None of this was your fault," Sean insisted. "When I said if Allanah had been in the hospital, I meant if she had been there the moment the placenta detached. It was already too late by the time the paramedics arrived, and I've been told Suzanne called them immediately."
A wrinkled handkerchief made its appearance, and Trent blew his nose once he was given the space to do so. "Are you sure, Mr. Matthews? Really sure?"
"I'm positive."
The elder Matthews looked over his shoulder at his son, and Trent followed his gaze. Blaine was slumped against the front grill of his truck with his head bowed as if in prayer. The need to comfort his boyfriend overwhelmed him, and he was already in motion when Sean grabbed his arm and stopped him.
"Son, I need you to do something for me."
The grip on his arm gentled as he glanced up at Blaine's father. "All you have to do is ask, Mr. Matthews. I'll do anything for you and yours."
A tight smile graced the older man's face for a brief second. "I need for you to take Blaine home. And if it's not an imposition, stay with him until my parents arrive. They should be in by seven tomorrow morning."
"What about the girls?" Trent asked.
"I sent them home with my sister shortly after I arrived at the hospital. Blaine refused to leave his mother, but," Sean spared a look at his son, "I have a feeling he'll go home now if you'll take him."
"No problem, sir. I'll be more than happy to do this for you."
Trent moved quickly to his boyfriend's side and slid his arm around Blaine's broad shoulders. Cradling the back of the older boy's head, he whispered in his ear, "Time to go home, Budman. You're dead on your feet and need to be in bed." He nipped softly on Blaine's earlobe before pressing a kiss to the base of his throat. "Give me your keys, Blaine," he instructed the emotionally exhausted teenager.
"Dad."
Trent took a step back and watched in silence as Blaine turned to hug his father one last time before leaving.
"You'll call me if--" Blaine left the sentence unfinished and Sean answered with a nod of his head. Handing over his keys, Blaine looked up at the row of lighted windows on the fifth floor of the hospital. "Tell Mom I love her, okay?"
"I will, son. Now go home and get some sleep."
Trent climbed behind the wheel of the truck and checked to see Blaine was properly belted in. He clutched at his boyfriend's hand briefly before putting the truck into gear, and with a good-bye wave to the man standing in the shadows, pulled out of the parking lot.
+++++++
"No."
Trent looked in confusion at the hand preventing him from unlocking the back door to the Matthews' home. "What's wrong, Budman?" he asked his boyfriend.
Blaine ignored his question and headed in the direction of the tree that held their treasured treehouse. Trent followed on his heels and scrambled up the ladder right behind him. His head cleared the entrance set in the floor just in time to see Blaine take a seat in the farthest corner.
"I take it you want to sleep up here?"
Blaine remained silent, and when he looked in his direction, Trent gasped at the way the moonlight highlighted the unshed tears glittering in his eyes.
"It's okay, Budman. If that's what you want, that's what we'll do."
Trent took a moment to locate the old Army footlocker he and Blaine had hauled up to their treehouse way back when. It had belonged to Blaine's grandfather and was quite battered and scarred from the abuse heaped upon it by two very imaginative and boisterous boys. Hoisting open the nearly rusted-shut lid, Trent was surprised to find inside the quilt his mother had made right before she died of breast cancer. He grabbed it and a blanket that was stored beneath.
"Can't believe this thing is still in one piece," he muttered. Keeping an eye on his boyfriend, he spread the quilt across the floor nearest to where Blaine was sitting and then fashioned the blanket into a pillow. "Come on. Might as well get comfortable." He toed off his shoes and stretched out on the quilt, sighing with dismay at the unmoving figure beside him. He captured Blaine's hand and tugged on it until the boy was comfortably situated in his arms.
Trent brushed back the strands of hair obscuring Blaine's eyes and tenderly kissed them shut. "It's gonna be okay, Budman. I've got ya."
Blaine turned in his arms and buried his face against his neck. "Don't let go," he whispered, and Trent obeyed, tightening his hold. It wasn't long before Blaine's emotions got the better of him, and heart-wracking sobs spilled out into the silence. Also devastated by the recent tragedy that had been visited upon his boyfriend's family, Trent surrendered to the threat of tears and joined in the crying.
"Let it all out, Blaine. Hold onto me, and let it all out."
High in the sky, the full moon slipped behind a cloud, and the night's cloak of darkness settled down over them, enfolding them in its grasp until they fell asleep from exhaustion.
+++++++
Impossible images of Blaine claiming his virginity woke Trent, and when he opened his eyes it was to find his boyfriend stretched out on top of him lapping at his pierced nipples.
"Blaine, where's my shirt?"
His missing shirt was quickly forgotten when Blaine began using his teeth to tug on the silver hoops threaded through his tits, and he couldn't help but moan noisily, "Oh fuck."
Blaine refused to let go until he was hoarse and begging. "Do it again. Ohshitohshitohshit."
The unbelievable pleasure was promptly transferred to his right tit, and he nearly broke his spine arching off the wooden floor of the treehouse. When Blaine finally released him and sent his talented mouth further south, Trent wasn't sure whose hands were the most insistent at pulling down his jeans and underwear.
"Yeah, yeah. Taste me. I wanna feel your mouth on my dick."
The moist heat of Blaine's mouth touched down as light as a feather on the tip of his erection, and he wept with frustration when it was removed a minute later. "Jesus, Budman! Don't stop now." He glanced down at his boyfriend and saw that he was openly weeping. "Blaine? What's wrong?"
Trent clumsily yanked up his jeans and underwear and was fumbling for the zipper when a hand slipped inside his splayed-open Levis and tenderly cupped his genitals.
"I want to make love to you, Trent. I really do, but every time I close my eyes I can't help but see little Ricky's face. How can I seek out my own pleasure when he's---" Blaine choked on his words and lowered his head.
Trent wriggled around until he was sitting up with his back braced against the wall behind him. It was a little awkward for him, what with Blaine lying on top of his legs, his head cushioned by his belly and his hand still stubbornly seated inside his jeans. Finally he was able to coax Blaine to roll to the side, and he groaned aloud when the circulation returned to his numb legs.
"Blaine, you gotta stop stressing yourself out about this." He grabbed the blanket-pillow he had created earlier and snapped it open, letting it float down over Blaine's trembling body. "My cherry ass ain't going nowhere, and I hate to say it, but as much as I want you to fuck me into oblivion, I'd probably feel like three kinds of shit knowing we made out while your mom and dad were at the hospital dealing with all that they're having to deal with right now."
Blaine flipped over and nuzzled his bellybutton, causing Trent to giggle. "Stop that. I can't think when you're licking me like that." Leaning down, he pressed his lips to Blaine's forehead and then to his mouth, hoping his kisses would make his boyfriend feel better.
"I say we put all of this on hold. Wait until . . . well, wait until things get settled with your family. And who knows? Maybe all this extra waiting will make popping my cherry that much more special, not to mention fucking awesome."
Before he could say anything else, Blaine was reaching for him. He soon found himself on the floor and covered by the shared blanket once the two of them were spooned against each other. The unexpected change of position had caused his unzipped jeans to ride low on his hips, but before he could pull them back up, Blaine had worked a hand inside his underwear and was once again gently clasping his dick.
"Don't," the older boy instructed. "I want to hold you, all of you, if that's okay."
Trent twisted his head back and plastered Blaine's cheek with a kiss. "You can hold anything of mine you want to, Budman. It's all yours, remember?"
"Thanks."
Closing his eyes, he pillowed his head on the muscular arm beneath it and tried his best to fall asleep. His attempt proved unsuccessful because of the many thoughts tumbling over and over in his brain. Soon his mental restlessness became a physical restlessness that was noticed by his boyfriend.
"What's got you so fidgety, babe?"
Trent went absolutely still. No way in hell had he meant to disturb Blaine's rest. "Sorry about that, Budman. I was just thinking." He felt Blaine's yawn against his back between his shoulder blades. It was then followed by Blaine rubbing his cheek over the exact same spot. "Thinking about what?" he drowsily asked.
"I was wondering if your mom and dad was gonna have a funeral for your . . . for little Ricky?"
The hand that had been cupping his balls tightened momentarily, and Trent bit down on his tongue in an effort to stop the sound of pain that rose to his lips. Unfortunately he couldn't prevent his body from reacting, and his legs instinctively rose to protect his vulnerable crotch. The second his knees hit Blaine's hand, his boyfriend let go and offered an apologetic kiss to his shoulder.
"Sorry, didn't mean to bruise the merchandise." Blaine kissed his shoulder again. "And yeah, I think I heard Dad mention something about a service. Why'd you ask that question?"
The whole time he was talking, Blaine was massaging the flesh he had abused, and the sound that rose next to his lips was definitely not one of pain but one of pure arousal. Clenching his fists, Trent desperately fought against the need to kick his jeans off and present his ass to Blaine. "I . . . uh . . . I asked because if there was one, a funeral I mean, I was hoping you'd let me go with you."
The fire in his gut was becoming unbearable, and he knew if he didn't do something soon, he was going to embarrass the hell out of himself and shoot his load. He quickly slipped his hand inside his jeans and intertwined his fingers with those of Blaine's. "You'd let me go with you, right?"
"Of course you can go with me, Trent. I'd be upset if you didn't."
"Just tell me where and when and I'll be there."
Trent eased their hands out of his jeans and shuddered with relief. His reprieve was short-lived and his trembling increased when Blaine shifted their hands to his chest and started playing with his nipples again. Luckily for him, exhaustion soon overcame his boyfriend and the fingers that were teasing his tits stilled and splayed open over his left pec. Unwilling to risk another playful foray that would more than likely send him over the edge, he slapped his hand over Blaine's and held it in place.
"Trent?"
He shifted closer to Blaine before answering with a yawn. "Ye . . . Yeah?"
A third kiss found its way to his shoulder but this time sharp teeth was added to the mix, and Trent couldn't help the slight start of surprise his body made. "What’cha want?"
"Don't ever touch my cellphone again, Trent," Blaine instructed solemnly. "'Cause the next time you do, I might not be so forgiving."
Trent felt his breath catch in his chest, and he spent the remainder of the night listening to Blaine's quiet snores and thanking God for giving him a second chance with his best bud.
To be continued . . . .