‘I don’t want to assume. Assumptions are dangerous.’
‘I’m here because… I’m so Lorisexual, I want to tongue your sanity out of your mouth until the one single word you remember is my name.’
‘Ambitious.’
The voltage around them is so high, it’s a miracle the neon lights haven’t been blown to smithereens yet. Charles is fighting hard not to push himself on tiptoe and cover the short distance between their mouths.
‘You can tell Phoebe yourself. The gang is gonna be here later. I didn’t think you’d mind as you came to give me back my keys.’
‘It’s great. Your friends are great. I wish they didn’t exist right now, but they’re great.’
Loris smiles and steps back. ‘Patty! I’m going for a fag!’
Charles shoves his notebook into his bag. Wherever Loris is actually going, he will follow him in a thudding heartbeat.
Patty appears, frowning. ‘What are you on about now? You don’t smoke.’
‘Two weeks in France, you know…’
‘Bullshit. But take your full break while you’re at it, so I can leave when you’re back.’
‘Okay. Give me your bag, Charles.’
‘Yes.’
At this point, he would give him his passwords and bank details, no questions asked.
Loris wedges the bag onto a shelf and walks away from Patty, who’s not asking any questions either.
Once on the other side of the counter, he places his hand on the small of Charles’ back to usher him towards the dark recess between tables.
‘We’re going to the basement?’
‘It’s the staffroom too. It’s balloon-free, no worries.’
‘Alright…’
As they climb down a steep and uneven staircase, Charles’ skin-on-skin thoughts are overshadowed by a prick of emotion, so he inhales deeply to fight it off. No, he’s not about to face Fred’s ghost. His brother’s presence has been scrubbed from the basement many times since he cleaned it. But when Loris switches on the lights, Charles clasps his pendant, just in case.
The multitude of dried-on stains on the concrete floor makes it hard to assess when the room was last scrubbed. It’s cramped with overloaded shelving units, fridges and beer kegs piled up near a delivery hatch.
‘Mind your step.’ Loris hops over a line of cardboard boxes to access a sagging couch. ‘You okay?’
‘Yes.’ Charles smiles because he is, but Loris seems to doubt it. ‘I am! And I love the place. Cosy and so practically optimised. Are you sure no creature lives inside that thing you’re on?’
‘I’m willing to risk it.’
Charles joins Loris and closes his legs to straddle his thighs. ‘Well, I’m not.’
‘Please, make yourself at home. I mean, more than you already are, since Patty has adop—’
‘Stop talking?’
‘Yeah.’
Charles presses their lips together, instantly chasing Loris’ tongue. He’s set an objective upstairs and plans on succeeding. Providing that he doesn’t go insane first. He has very few points of comparison to appraise kissing skills, but Loris’ are clearly above greatness. It’s not normal to ignite someone’s soul and body so fast. Loris doesn’t even need to kiss him. His mouth is now exploring Charles’ neck, his handskneading his skin underneath his shirt, and Charles is already close to conceding defeat. But when he rubs against his jeans, Loris moans, giving Charles a boost of confidence in his ability to get the win.
‘Wait…’ Loris contracts his fingers on Charles’ back. ‘Wait.’
