Eros: The Obsession

Chapter Eight

When Jun gets to his childhood home, it's exactly as he had remembered it. The dirty beige walls, paint long since chipped away, coat most of the house's front area, contrasting to the deep green of the roof. A few panels are missing in the roof's surface, the wooden structure underneath peaking through.

The yard is still a mess, the grass unkempt and long,  various weeds and plants running over the small fence that encircles the property. Jun has never played outside in their yard, their thorny grass always dismissing the idea, but he can barely walk to the front door in the state that it's currently in. His jacket gets caught on a long string of sticky grass, the smaller bristles catching onto the ends of his jeans and shoes. He cusses quietly, mumbling angrily to himself as he steps up to the misshapen front porch steps.

The handle where the door knocker is supposed to be is now just a gaping hole, so with a resign sigh Jun lifts his hand, curls his fingers and raps his knuckles against the door three times. He hears a quiet scuffle from inside, a low voice that belongs to his father arguing with who he only assumes is his mother. The shuffling grows louder, nearing the door and before Jun has a chance to really process anything, it's being swung open.

His father stands in the middle of the doorframe, now shorter than Jun and with significantly more gray hairs than when Jun had last seen him. Dressed in tattered trousers and a stained checkered  button-up, he's definitely more pathetic than Jun remembers and that makes him feel a lick of vicious pleasure.

His father doesn't greet him, just simply steps aside with narrowed eyes to let him in.

"Nice to see you too, Pops," Jun says in a mockingly cheerful tone, sneering in glee as his father stiffens with tension. His father doesn't reply but he can hear the sharp inhale of breath at Jun's words, the indignation rolling off of the older man in waves. Jun cheers internally, scrunching his nose at the smell of alcohol that passes by him when he walks passed his father.

The rest of the house smells like food, a blend of spices permeating through the front hallway and making Jun's mouth water. His mother steps out from the entrance to the kitchen, looking more awake than he's seen her in years with a horrendous pink apron tied around her waist. She gives him a warm smile and walks over to kiss his cheek.

"How was your flight?" she asks in a seemingly genuine tone that would fool anyone else.

"When is he coming over?" Jun ignores her question, tone dry as he asks his own.

His mother grimaces at his tone, brows furrowing in displeasure as she bites back a nasty comment. "Mr. Montesi will be joining us for dinner tonight."

Jun nods once before brushing past her and down the right passageway to where his old room is.

The interior of the house is as he remembers, sparsely filled with second-hand furniture and littered with a variety of childhood photographs – his mother's pathetic attempt at disguising how poor and broken their family was by creating some façade mirroring the American dream.

His room is also largely the same. His bed still has the same shark themed covers he'd had ever since he was ten years old, the old train set he used to play with still sits on the windowsill. Even the old porno magazines he'd bought at seventeen still sit beneath a pile of old underwear.

He places his bags to the side, against the wall before he gingerly walks over to his bed, slowly lowering himself onto the mattress. It's as springy and uncomfortable as he remembers and just that feeling of familiarity makes him want to run away again.

He doesn't want to be here, not after everything that's happened.

Jun glances around, ignoring the heavy feeling that crushes his heart as he takes in his old posters, his old school desk, the few toys he'd had growing up.

For a moment, he imagines that Tara is there with him. He wonders how she'd react, whether she'd ask about all the bits and pieces that litter his room. He wonders how she'd react to his decrepit house, to his miserable parents. He doesn't think she'd judge him but a part of him still feels ashamed of his childhood room, of the person he used to be – weak and feeble, prone to anger and heartbreak.

Something thick and suffocating sits in his throat, making his eyes sting and his chest constrict. In an effort to distract himself, he decides to send Tara a message, knowing that it's a Saturday and hoping the woman isn't too busy to reply.

She answers his text almost immediately, and before Jun can process what's happening, she's calling him.

"Hello?" he answers hesitantly.

"Hey," Tara replies in a casual tone, "Just thought I'd check in with you. How was your flight?"

"Okay," Jun shrugs to himself.

"And being home?" she asks a little hesitantly, unsure of whether Jun wants to speak about his situation.

He hesitates, knowing that he probably shouldn't involve her, but yearning for a little bit of comfort after being barraged with an onslaught of repressed memories. "It's...unpleasant," he says at last, not wanting to lie but also not wanting to tell her the whole truth.

"I'm sorry," she replies in a murmur and he can picture the pout of her lips just by the tone of her voice. "How long will you have to be there?"

"I'm not sure," he tells her. "I'll find out tonight."

"What's happening tonight?" Tara asks curiously.

Jun bites his lip, knowing he can't tell her about his ties to Aldo Montesi. "I'm meeting up with an old friend of my dad's," he says instead. "Apparently he wanted to discuss some things with me."

"Will you stay if he asks you to?" Jun is surprised by the genuine sadness in her tone.

"Probably," he sighs. "I can't exactly say no if he asks."

"I hope you don't have to," Tara says immediately, tone petulant.

For a second, Jun thinks she's going to take it back but when she doesn't, he decides to tease her a little. "Oh really?" he asks in a deep drawl. "Would you miss me?"

His words are entirely innocent but he hears the sharp inhale Tara gasps on the other side of the line. "Maybe," she says in a trembling breath and he can imagine the way she ducks her head shyly, her eyes fluttering with nerves.

Jun hums noncommittally, falling back against the mattress with a pleased grin. "Really? I don't think you sound very convincing."

"What do you mean?" Tara asks, sounding distressed.

"I don't think you want me to come back," he teases in that low tone he knows makes her flustered. "You'd probably just replace me with some other man to wrap around you pretty little fingers."

"Of course I want you to come back!" she exclaims in indignation.

"Prove it," Jun instructs, arousal pooling in his gut at the needy, distressed tone of her voice.

"What?" Tara gasps.

"Prove you want me to come back," Jun tells her as he runs a hand down his chest, to the waistband of his jeans.

"H-How should I prove it?" Tara asks in a trembling voice.

"Give me something to come back to," he breathes out a chuckle. He palms against the growing bulge in his pants, holding back a hiss of pleasure as blood starts to pool in his member, making it swell. He throws his head back against the mattress as a spark of pleasure runs down his spine.

"I don't know what to do," Tara mutters in a high pitched whine and it goes straight to Jun's head.

He chuckles fondly, his arousal growing when he pictures her on the other end of the line, all innocent with distressed tears in her eyes because she doesn't know how to please Jun. "Poor baby," he mutters into the receiver, his fingers sliding the zipper down and unhooking the button of his jeans. "You sound so distressed."

"Because you're being mean," she whines petulantly.

Jun lifts his hips up, shimmying out of his jeans to pull his member free of its confines. His phone falls against the mattress and Jun is too highly strung to bother with it at the moment, all of his attention immediately wrapped around getting his pants off. It takes him a while to do so, so by the time he puts his ear to the receiver again, Tara calls out a frantic, "Jun?"

"I'm here, love," he tells her, the pet name slipping out instinctively.

It's apparently the right thing to say because Tara lets out a breathy little, "Oh," that sounds just too high in pitch to be nonchalant. "I thought you'd gotten bored of speaking to me."

"I would never," Jun tells her sincerely, one hand stroking himself as the other clutches the phone to his ear. He has to stifle his moans but a few breathy whines escape and he contemplates whether Tara has heard them. A part of him wants her to.

"I don't know how to make you want to come back," she tells him, tone so heartbroken that Jun immediately caves.

"All you have to do is ask, love," he tells her. "I would do anything you asked of me, you should know that."

"You would?" Tara asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

Jun chuckles at the oblivious tone of her voice. "Of course. I'd walk straight into hell if you'd ask."

"Well I'm asking you to come home," she says and the idea that she is his 'home' that she wants him to come back to her, tugs at Jun's heart. His hands speed up just a little, thumb brushing over the angry red tip of his member as his toes curl with pleasure.

"Okay," he breathes, unable to hold back his groan this time.

He knows that Tara has heard him this time and his hands still around his member, heart kicking up in anxiety. A beat of silence passes between them before he asks in a timid voice, "Tara?"

She doesn't reply.

He can hear her breathe on the other end of the line but she doesn't say anything. A few seconds tick by, and then more, and then she hasn't spoken for almost a minute. He thinks she might just hang up before she asks, in a voice softer than a whisper, "Are you touching yourself?"

Jun swallows thickly, his fingers still wrapped around himself. "Maybe," he says at last. And then, "Do you want me to stop."

Of course she does, he thinks to himself. You're being a creep.

Another beat of silence passes by before she replies. "No."

It takes a moment for Jun to register her answer, and when he does, his member throbs with arousal, precum leaking from the angry red tip. His hips jerk up at the feeling, toes curling in pleasure as he imagines her sitting there with her phone pressed to her ear and her thighs pressed together because of how turned on she is by the thought of him getting off to her.

"You sure?" Jun clarifies, just to make sure he hasn't fully lost his mind and imagined the whole thing.

"I'm sure," she replies and this time her voice sounds raw, strangled in what he would like to think is arousal.

That's all the confirmation Jun needs before he's furiously thrusting up into his palms, unable to keep his voice in check. He unabashedly moans into the receiver and almost thinks he hears Tara whimper in response. The idea that she's as affected by him as he is by her is what finally sets him off, and his hips jut up once, twice, out of rhythm, before he spills into his palms. He chokes out her name in a desperate tone and here's a soft murmur of "Oh, God," as he comes apart.

Jun lies on his bed, breathing heavily with his palms stained with his release. His chest rises and falls with the force of his orgasm and his eyes feel heavy, lidded with pleasure. He clears his throat a moment later, and decides to chance breaking the silence. "Tara?"

A beat of silence passes with no reply.

And then, "I'm sorry," she chokes out, and this time the distress in her tone sounds different, guilty. "I can't, I'm sorry."

The line goes dead a second later.