Chapter Thirty - How to Cure Performance Anxiety - A Short Guide
Could Aron tell he was nervous? His friend closed his hand over Carter's, and all he could do was to think of the warmth he was feeling. It was not exactly like they were holding hands, and there was some room between them on the back seat, while the taxi driver seemed more preoccupied with watching the road ahead rather than spying on them.
You're getting a little paranoid, aren't you?
You saw what happened with Simon earlier! What if someone finds out?
Aron doesn't seem to care. Why do you?
I care. I care that he doesn't get hurt.
Another funny thing was how silent they were after their happy banter from before. Each one was staring over the window on his side, and there seemed to be no words they cared to share. Carter could not exactly remember that kind of situation. Although Aron had said something before about Carter's way of falling silent. Was that one of those moments? When he just lost himself in his own head, while Aron didn't mind? Maybe the only difference was that he was well aware of it now, unlike those times.
Aron paid the fare, exchanging a few polite words with the driver, and then proceeded to extract Carter from the taxi. Extract certainly being the exact word seeing that he wasn't sure how well he could keep himself on his feet.
Apparently quite well, he noticed as he stood next to Aron, after the taxi took off, leaving them in front of a posh boutique hotel.
"You booked a room for tonight?" Carter asked.
Ah, that meant that Aron hoped to get lucky. Well, he ended up taking Carter with him, eventually, so probably he wasn't that lucky. Seeing Carter's terrible performance anxiety at the moment.
"No, for a longer stay. I have ties with the owner, so I got a pretty nice deal," Aron explained.
"Why would you stay at a hotel?" Carter questioned. "Why aren't you staying with your parents? Or get a new place to live?"
"I'm just hoping to deal with this separation problem quickly. Plus, I haven't exactly had the time to search for a new place," Aron said matter-of-factly.
"That doesn't exactly answer my first question," Carter pointed out.
"Ah, well, there's no way for me to deflect you, right?" Aron chuckled. "My parents don't need the stress. They insisted that I should come to stay with them, but frankly, I think I need some time alone, to reflect a little on ... you know, stuff," the man added, his voice trailing off a bit.
"Ah, then I'm interrupting your reflections?" Carter hurried. "By coming over?"
"You definitely are," Aron laughed. "Actually, I'm counting on it," he added, and pulled Carter close to him, as they entered the elevator.
The dignified man in livery tending the elevator didn't seem bothered by the public display of ... whatever Aron was doing to him.
"Good evening, Mr. Ruskin. Did you have a good night?" the man inquired politely.
"Excellent, Randolf," Aron replied cheerfully. "And it's only getting better."
Carter was sure that grin had been directed to him since the hotel employee was already with his back at them, fiddling with the buttons of the machinery. And that was making his heart grow small, small, small.
"That is great to hear, Mr. Ruskin. If there's anything you would like us to bring to the room, please just let the room service know. There seems to be a quiet night."
Carter was gently pushed out of the elevator, as Aron remained a few steps behind to tell the hotel employee something that didn't quite reach his ears.
Most probably, because even the sound of a fanfare could not overwhelm the beating of his heart.
"We're here," Aron gestured toward a door which he opened quickly with his card, allowing Carter to go in.
And make a little fool of himself, as he gasped in surprise.
"Is this like a penthouse suite or something?" he said out loud. "Man, it's like you're in the lap of luxury."
Aron closed the door behind them carefully and remained silent for a moment. Carter turned, and watched his best friend since forever, leaning against the door, his thumbs hung in his pockets as if he was waiting for something.
"Impressed?" Aron asked, something challenging, yet warm flickering in his eyes.
"Yeah, like how could I not be? I've never been anywhere this nice."
"So? What would you like to do?"
Drop to my knees and worship your cock.
Hush, does the pervert in you never sleep?
Never.
"I don't know," he shrugged. "I'm afraid if I sit on that white sofa, I might just get it dirty just by breathing in its direction."
Aron's low chuckle tickled his ears.
"Please feel at home," the host urged, but Carter didn't feel more at ease.
As he was busy taking in his surroundings, Aron sneaked from behind and embraced him.
"You seem a little tense," Aron whispered into his ear. "I think I have just the remedy for that. Let's hit that jacuzzi," he added, sliding both his hands into Carter's, linking their fingers together.
"Um, okay," Carter said softly.
It was easy just to follow Aron around. But when Aron let go of his hand, to climb the few stairs to the area where Carter supposed served as the bedroom, he just stood there, looking.
With practiced ease, Aron pulled off his tank top, allowing Carter to admire his broad shoulders and muscled back. When Aron began unbuckling his belt, Carter gulped so loudly that the man turned.
"Are you going into the jacuzzi all dressed up like this?" Aron laughed. "Not that I don't appreciate how nice you look. I wasn't expecting that."
"What were you expecting?" Carter mumbled.
"Just you," Aron said simply. "I was just expecting you."
The man's dark gaze trained on him was so intense that Carter could swear he was just going to melt to the floor or burn like a candle. His usually overactive brain was silent, probably mesmerized with Aron, too, with how beautiful and perfect the man was.
"It's okay, I will give you a hand," Aron smiled a little too smugly for Carter to feel safe.
What are you afraid of, exactly?
Ah, look who decided to join the party.
The question still stands.
I'm afraid ... I'm afraid that I'm going to fall and never come back up from this.
Aron interrupted his conversation to his own brain by walking over and putting his fingers on Carter's first shirt button, proceeding carefully, with a small frown that Carter was certain he found sexy for some reason.
