Wc: 4K

A few weeks later

"We can talk about it, Darius. I can be there for you if you want me to," Trace's voice was soft and he put his hand on my back.

Ever since we'd come back to Toronto our relationship had taken a step backwards. What had happened in the competition had turned me inside out. I'd been withdrawn, anxious and a bit depressed for the past few weeks.

I had to go back to my regular life and work like everything was normal when everything had changed. Trace could tell there was something wrong but I didn't know how to tell him that I hadn't stood up for myself. He was always standing up for me and I couldn't even defend myself when it mattered. It was fucked up and I hated myself for it.

At the time I hadn't even considered confronting Mary Lou and getting to the bottom of what she did but these weeks it was all I could think about. Why hadn't I done more?! Why couldn't I have done something?!

So many things were going wrong. I wasn't happy at Sweets N Things anymore because I needed a challenge and a neighbourhood bakery remotely challenging. I needed to see a therapist but the thought of making the calls filled me with unimaginable dread. And me and Trace still hadn't had sex. Sure, some of what we'd done could be considered sex but it wasn't exactly, 'the deed.' It made me feel like I was endlessly leading him on.

Tonight, we were at my apartment and he was trying to get me to talk to him. The two of us were sitting up on my bed and we'd watched a non-zombie related movie earlier in the evening but there was a baking subplot and I mentally checked out until the movie was over. Trace had kept quiet about it until we'd gone to bed but then sat me down and said I could confide in him if I wanted.

I took a shaky breath and stared hard at my boyfriend. God, Trace was gorgeous. Confidence dripped off of him in waves and he was so sure of himself all the time. Right now his brown eyes were deep with concern and the forever frown of his mouth was more worried than anything else.

Trace kissed the inside of my shoulder. "Baby, please," he begged. And I knew Trace had too much pride to beg for anything so this was serious.

"I'm a mess," I confessed in a raw, broken voice, "I can't do anything right. I can't manage to get it together and just not fuck up everything meaningful in my life."

Trace let out a harsh exhale. "Don't talk about yourself that way, Darius."

I shook my head and shrugged off his touch. "Except I'm the problem. The competition was such a massive mistake and I was so stupid not to realize it. My anxiety is w-w-worse than it was before. I have more panic attacks and I just get so upset when I think about all the times I wasn't able to stand up for myself. I don't know why I thought I could go through all of this and come out on the other side of it al-al—" I breathed. "The other side of it okay. I can't believe I'm so stupid." Humiliatingly, my eyes started to burn and then I couldn't keep the tears at bay anymore.

They were tears and emotions I'd been holding in for the past few months. All the raw hurt from the competition and my heartrending loss blurred together until I was just weeping messily. It was mostly pure frustration as snot spewed from my nose and my eyes puffed up. And now Trace knew that I was just a big baby.

A part of me expected him to sit there awkwardly and pretend I wasn't breaking down or maybe even for him to turn away in disgust. But, instead he sat right there with me and let me cry into his shoulder. He rubbed my back and he surprised me with some tissues to help me wipe away the tears. He kept telling me it was okay and as my tears subsided I was starting to realize that maybe things could be.

"I'm sorry," I said in a scratchy voice, "I'm really, really sorry. This is really unattractive."

Traced cupped my cheeks and kissed me on the forehead. "Don't apologize. I'm going to get you  something for your eyes, okay?"

Trace pushed on his leg and got up from the bed. His boxer shorts made his ass look even more perky than it was and I wished I hadn't ruined the mood. Not Like there'd been much of a mood. Trace had wanted to talk right before we went to bed so neither of us were wearing much. Before the movie we'd played some board games that night as a "low-key" date as Trace called it. He'd wanted to go to a board game cafe but my anxiety was too sensitive for me to go to such a loud and public place. There would be the walks from the table to the board game shelves, waiters that were too friendly, and even finding a seat at peak hours. The thought of going out had made me feel nauseous. It really shouldn't have but Trace just took it in stride when I asked if we could change the setting of our date.

He came back to the bedroom not much later with a bag of peas wrapped in a small towel. Trace sat down on the bed, took off his leg, crossed his legs and put a pillow on his lap before gesturing for me to lay down.

I did, and closed my eyes. He put the pack over my face and hummed softly while stroking my temples. It was strangely soothing.

"I'll always take care of you if you want me to, Darius, okay? Let me be here for you."

It took me a while to respond. "Okay."

"There's nothing wrong with you," Trace said, "You tried your best in the competition. The fact they didn't choose you is on them not on you."

"I let her win...." I whispered. "If I'd said something then maybe they could have started things over or stopped her or —"

Trace sounded confused. "What do you mean?"

"It was the finale and she was holding the fridge door open for me while I was holding my pans. I'd made all my cakes and they were chilling in the fridge. She gave me such a weird look. I can't forget it.  Right when I was coming out she let the door handle go and it swung and hit my arms. I was so tired that day. I hadn't really slept the night before because I'd had an argument with Mel. I just—" my voice caught, "I couldn't move out of the way in time and I dropped my cakes. It derailed me for the rest of the finale and I lost. The camera tech told me they couldn't determine if she did it on purpose but I know I should have fought for it more. I keep thinking about how two hundred thousand dollars US dollars could change my life. Or the cookbook. Or even the stupid trophy. I didn't fight for it enough."

Trace took off the cold compress and I expected anger but instead his expression was puzzled. "Of course you tried you best. You always do. Don't say stuff like that, Darius. It's because you're such a perfectionist but you don't need to judge yourself on those standards. And she sounds like a fucking asshole."

But, did I? I considered briefly. I blinked back tears as I realized I had. I'd tried so fucking hard every single terrible day of the competition. Through the panic attacks. Through Mel. Even when my hands were shaking and I couldn't breathe. When Richard and Aditya let me down at every turn. Against all the odds.

And Mary Lou was a fucking asshole.

But maybe he wasn't completely wrong. I was a perfectionist and it made my anxiety worse. I wasn't sure how I felt anymore but being so close to Trace, being near his warmth and having his comfort was going a long way to put me at ease. I hadn't exactly felt like I was keeping a secret from him but I'd felt guilty for not opening up to him. I shouldn't have been afraid to.

The world came back into sharp focus, and for a moment I was startled at how close Trace was to me. There were still times when I was struck by his features; high cheekbones and limitless beauty. He blinked, and I watched the long dark fan of his lashes nearly flutter. "You're quiet again, but I want to say something. Are you listening?"

"Yes,"

"You can't judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree."

I blinked.

Trace sighed. "I'm not saying this well but you're like— a fish. This really amazingly cool fish that can swim fast, hold its breath for hours, and you're the king of the ocean. All the oceans. And the baking competition was this massive oak tree. But you're the fucking king of the ocean and you don't need to climb a damn oak tree. But, you do it anyways. Because you're badass and you almost get to the top of the oak tree. You're right there, and then someone pushes you out of the tree. Some piece of shit. But, that doesn't mean that you weren't good enough to climb the tree. Am I making any sense?"

I nodded tearfully, really touched at how earnest Trace sounded. "Yes," I whispered, "you're making sense."

"And your parents and me and Manny and the friends you made know how special you are, Darius. God, I wish I could just— just make you see."

I closed my eyes, feeling heat fly into my face. "I'm just—uh— thinking."

Trace chuckled and his warm breaths ghosted over my face. "Okay."

I still felt embarrassed by all my tears and my meltdown but now I was feeling warm and comforted and safe. All those things weren't exactly a turn on but that combination and being close to Trace made me want him in a desperate way.

I was getting better at giving him compliments even though they cane out so terribly awkward. Slowly, I opened my eyes and Trace was still staring at me, as if examining my face. God, what if there was snot on my face? Fuck.

Okay, I breathed for a second. I could do this. I could just compliment him. I could say thanks for comforting me. Or maybe thanks for your support. Ugh no, that sounded so...cold. Hmm, maybe I should try being romantic? I could kiss him and say thanks. But what if he thinks I want more? I don't want things to immediately turn sexual. But saying thanks isn't a precursor to sex. Or wait. Is it?

"Still thinking?" Trace deduced.

Startled, I sat up and I forgot Trace was still leaning over me and our foreheads thwacked together. Trace only laughed when I immediately started apologizing.

He rubbed his forehead for a second before giving me a kiss on the cheek. "You're very cute, Darius. You don't need to apologize." He said it all smooth and suave.

A garbled noise came out of my mouth before I could string a coherent sentence together. "Gee, thanks."

Trace continued looking at me like I wasn't weird. "Do you want to snuggle or keep talking?"

"Snuggle," I said quietly, "but first I wanted to say...that I'm really thankful I have you and you mean a lot to me. I'm glad you're my boyfriend. Thank you for always listening to me." I took a deep breath and gave Trace a long hug.

He hugged me back equally as hard and spoke quickly, "You don't have to thank me for treating you exactly how you deserve to be treated, Darius."

We scrambled around on the bed until Trace laid on my chest and pressed his body against mine. I could feel myself reacting to the closeness and I didn't know what to say. It didn't take very long for Trace to notice.

"Oh," he murmured, "do you want me to take care of it?" His fingers traced the band of my boxers and his voice was low.

I closed my eyes but pushed my hips into his touch. There were things we hadn't gotten to but whatever we did do was always intense. Trace helped me push off my boxers and I moaned. Then his hands were on me and I was melting in an entirely different way.

"I think you're cute, too," I said breathlessly.

Trace's hand slowed but didn't stop. "Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

"I wanted to...to...oh God. Uhm—" Trace bit into my pec and my brain scrambled. "I can't think when you—oh shit."

Trace's voice was soft, "I find it really hot how you swear a lot whenever I make you feel good. I like making you lose control."

I closed my eyes. This was impossible. "I think you're cool," I said like an idiot. But his hand was so warm, and expert and I couldn't think. I could just feel. Feel this insane amount of pleasure that was melting both my body and my brain.

"Fuck, you look so good like this. I want more." And then Trace's hand was gone and before I knew it he was moving down between my legs and I, quite frankly, lost it.

#

When Trace was done brushing his teeth he crawled back into bed with me and I was feeling sleepy and sated. Relaxed.

"Why don't you make a list of the things you want to change in your life?"He asked me gently, retying the knot holding my du-rag together. It had loosened some minutes back but I was too lazy to retie it.

"Hmm?" I murmured, feeling boneless.

"Like your job, and baking?" Trace looked smug but he didn't bother teasing me directly.

"Oh," I said, thinking that Trace was right. "I'll be right back."

I got up from the bed and left my bedroom to get a whiteboard I kept in my kitchen. I'd thought of writing my goals before but I'd never gone through with it. Today would be different.

I came back into room and sat on the bed. Trace was sitting up on the bed and I scooted beside him and braced the whiteboard on my thighs. At the top of the board I wrote, 'King of the ocean!!' and Trace laughed fondly at that.

The next thing I wrote was, 'See Dr. Yaya for therapy,' and Trace kissed my shoulder like I'd done something good. The affection was unexpectedly heartwarming and I could feel myself flushing.

"You're doing great. What else did you want to change?"

I thought out loud as I wrote, "Find a more challenging baking job with better pay."

"You don't like how they pay you?"

I wasn't about to tell Trace that I could only afford my apartment because the landlord also owned the bakery and gave deals to tenants who worked in the bakery. I was pretty frugal and while I'd been away for Baking Beasts I'd still had to pay my rent even though I wasn't making money. In the long term, it wasn't enough. Instead, I said, "not really." I thought some more before adding to the list, "Start a YouTube baking series."

"Wow," Trace said in surprise, "really?"

I slumped. "You don't think it's a good idea?"

"No, Darius, of course not. It's a great idea." He gave me a kiss in apology and I almost dropped the whiteboard marker.

"I didn't mind being on camera," I continued, "But I just want it under my own control, and I also want to make some queer friends," I said quickly. I still found it embarrassing I didn't have a lot of friends but I knew I had to go out and find some.

"There's this gay volleyball league I join in the winter," Trace offered helpfully, "we form teams and have a tournament style competition. It's mostly guys but I usually end up with whatever women are there because they're nicer to me. Some guys are too competitive and as soon as someone sees my peg leg suddenly their team is 'full.'"

"That's awful!" I said, horrified, "how could anyone treat you like that?"

"Most people suck, and it's fine. My team came in second last year but two of them won't be joining and we have space. But there's lots of little gay clubs in this city so there's definitely other stuff you can join. It doesn't have to be a sport. But, is there anything else you wanted to write on your list?"

I flushed as I thought about the other thing I wanted. I wrote it slowly on the board, unsure how Trace would react.

"Fuck," he whispered, "are you sure?"

"I really want you," I said, staring at the whiteboard and feeling nervous.

"Is tomorrow night okay?"

"I don't want us to have... issues again," I mumbled.

"I've been stretching, so it'll be okay this time," Trace said quietly, "I'll make it special for you."

He took the whiteboard out of my hands and cupped my cheeks to plant a kiss on me. My hands moved around his waist and the kiss predictably deepened until my lips felt bruised and I was out of breath.

"Do you still think I'm cool?" Trace teased me, tracing the outline of one of my tattoos.

I blushed. Of course I'd had to say something stupid. "I think you're a lot of things," I admitted softly, "I think you're cool because you are. Nothing rattles and you have a rational response to everything. Even even when you get angry you know how to pace yourself and try to stay calm. You treat me really well, and you respect me. Even though I can be kind of a handful. And you're nice to me, all the time, even when I feel like I don't deserve it. I really really like you. All the time. Obsessively. But I still get so nervous and I wish I could say it more often."

Trace gave me a chaste kiss. "Thank you, Darius. That means a lot to me." His gaze was soft as he rubbed circles across my stomach. "How about we go camping next weekend? We can toast marshmallows and just get away from the city."

I scrunched my nose. "In the woods?"

Trace rolled his eyes. "I can make it comfortable for us. I can bring an inflatable mattress and a heater, a pop up closet. So, we don't have to sleep in sleeping bags. We can go fishing, and take some hikes and they even have some kind of fruit pickling activity going on. So we could—"

Fruit pickling? I was convinced. "Did you say next weekend?"

Trace smiled. "Yeah."

"Okay, I'll go."

His smile turned into a grin and his eyes creased beautifully. "Yeah?"

I nodded, and I felt like I had a goofy smile on my face. "Yeah."

Trace looked cute, and relaxed and I moved in and planted a kiss on him. He responded quickly, wrapping his hand at the back of my neck so I couldn't escape. It was the best place to be trapped.

"I love when you take initiative. It's so fucking hot," Trace's voice was low and threaded with sensuality. He started to mouth at my throat, placing delicate kisses across my warm skin. "You're so fucking hot," he said between kisses.

I fell into the kiss, giving him as much as he was taking from me. It was as intense as it was addictive and there was a moment where I just wanted him naked. Immediately.

I stopped kissing him for a moment to pull off his shirt. "I know you said tomorrow but can we do other stuff today?"

"You can do whatever you want," Trace said in a sultry voice.

"I want to... Uhm." I chewed on my lip and glanced down and away. "Return the favour...from before?"

His eyes were two obsidian pools fixated on me. They tracked onto my mouth as he raised his hand to my lips. He rubbed the pad of his thumb across my lower lip. "You're lucky you have lips like these. They're perfect and it makes it impossible to say no to you when you make faces like that."  He leaned in and kissed me nice and slow, twining his tongue against mine. "Tell me what you want to do."

I licked my lips. "I want to— do what you did earlier."

Trace breathed heavily. "Okay, get on your knees."

I swallowed loudly and moved onto the floor while Trace scooted to the edge of the mattress. I felt awkward on the floor but the expression on Trace's face was completely worth it.

"Do you still want to?" He said in a rough voice.

I nodded. "Yes."

"You're okay?" He asked more quietly, placing the palm of his hand on my cheek.

I closed my eyes briefly and leaned into the warmth of his skin. I turned my cheek to kiss the inside of his palm. "I'm okay."

"Okay, then help me with my briefs."

I swallowed loudly and got to work.

#

I woke up in the middle of the night to use the washroom and when I came back to the bed Trace was sprawled inelegantly across my sheets and sleeping soundly. He tended to steal the blankets when we were sleeping together and he sometimes kicked in his sleep. But he was also warm and always smelled amazing so I figured the cons weren't so bad.

But, for whatever reason...I wasn't sleepy anymore. I felt like even if it was pushing 3am I needed to stop avoiding things.

I went quietly to the living room, cracked open my laptop and logged into my email. I hadn't done so since getting back from New York because it would've reminded me of Baking Beasts too much. But the show was over now. And today would be the first day of me getting over it.

I'd exchanged emails with my friends from the competition but I'd been too embarrassed to check my email and see if they'd really emailed me. I wasn't in a state where I could stand checking my inbox and seeing that none of them had followed up with me. But, when I did check my email I saw it was flooded with inboxes from Ai, Brain, Alex and even Isaac and Dr. Yaya.

I was shocked and happy that they'd remembered me. Ai's emails were as chatty as she was in real life and she'd put everything from her personal email to her social media handles and her phone number, reminding me that she knew I probably needed time.

There were some emails from Alex and Brian too, but Brian admitted he and his husband were looking into surrogacy and that might be something he would focus more on depending on how it goes.

Dr. Yaya extended her services towards me once again in her email and I flagged that one but didn't reply.

I spent time replying to other emails and joined a group chat that Ai formed with some other former contestants. I noticed that neither Mel nor Mary Lou were in the chat and that relieved me. The group chat was casual and I didn't say anything but it felt nice to be included.

My last unread email was from Isaac but he was too representative of the competition and I bookmarked it to look at later. But I noticed that the subject of his email was: JOB OPPORTUNITY in all caps. It looked too good to be true and I pushed down whatever feeling of hope that started to bubble up and exited the browser. There was no way that I was going to get a job out of Baking Beasts...maybe he'd sent it by accident. Regardless, I needed some time process things before I read anything else.

I closed my laptop and yawned. The exhaustion crept back up again and I still had a couple hours until work so I slipped back into bed with Trace. He woke up briefly and put his hands on my chest.

"You okay?" He mumbled in a sleep addled voice.

"I'll be okay," I assured him.

Trace's expression softened and he patted me on the chest before promptly falling back asleep. He always fell asleep so quickly and I wondered how he managed to do it. But there in Trace's arms, sandwiched between his touch and the bed, I was able to fall asleep, too.

#
Some readers had a negative reaction to ch26 and as a writer, I understand that it do be like that sometimes. But I still hope that readers who continue reading do enjoy the story. :/

Overall thoughts?

What should Darius call his potential baking YouTube channel?

;) Any guesses as to what Darius wrote on the whiteboard?

Thoughts on Darius' competition mates reconnecting with him?

I tried not to be explicit but I included some ideas as to what their dynamic is like when they're intimate. Thoughts?