I smile. “I promise, wasn’t trying to scare you at all. I apologize. It’s just… Roly’s right. The weather tonight is really crappy, and tell you what, instead of walking home in this mess, why don’t you stay in my guest room? You’ve got the early-morning shift, right?”
I could drive him home, I guess, but I know he hates it there, and he’d be way more comfortable in my bed.
In myguestbed.
Yeah, that’s totally what I meant.
He looks around and looks down at the ground, and I can see him thinking through… I’m not sure what. Logistics? Probably. Finally, he nods and in a small voice says, “Okay, Nick. I appreciate that; it’ll certainly be a lot less noisy than my place right now.”
We head up the stairs together, and I hold the door open for him, trying not to audibly sniff his scent as he passes me. Once in my condo, his shoulders immediately drop, as though walking through the door has released a set of marionette strings. I wish I knew why he sometimes gets so tense about, I don’t know, random shit. Yesterday, Roly bet him five bucks that he could get Thane to agree to a three-way with one of the moms (yeah, I put the kibosh on that), and he declined the bet and seemed agitated about it. Maybe I need to have a talk with Roly about appropriate workplace behavior. I shake off the thought and am way too happy that he’s comfortable enough to just sit on the couch without feeling like he has to ask permission.
“Get comfortable. Feel free to take off your shoes, if you’d like.”
I absentmindedly brush his hair with my fingertips as I pass him on the way to the kitchen. Elijah angles his head to feel a bit more of my touch, then slips off his shoes, tucking his feet underneath himself. I doubt I have that kind of flexibility, but he’s adorable, here on my couch. I’ve replaced the couches and the art, but he’s so exhausted, I doubt he notices.
“So, what’s your poison? I’ve got gin, vodka, rum, wine…”
“Tonight, gin sounds really good. Do you have any soda or orange juice?” His smile is a little watery, and he feels too far away from me.
“I have both… and a little ginger syrup, if you care to make things interesting.”
His eyes widen, cute and sexy. “I’ve never mixed a drink with ginger before.”
“Trust me, you’ll love it.”
I mix our drinks in tall glasses, then bring them with me as I try to figure out where to sit on the couch. Or, should I sit on the recliner? The way he looks up at me, the way his eyes seemed to latch onto mine, I know there’s only one place for me to go. Settling in right next to him, our thighs touching, I hand him his drink. If he feels weird about our proximity, he’s not letting on.
Smiling shyly, he dips his head to sip at the concoction. “Oh my god, that is the best drink I’ve ever had. Who knew ginger could taste so good with alcohol?”
There’s something about the innocence of that statement, the lack of guile that just… floors me. I nudge his shoulder with mine. “Yeah, it’s got a bit of a bite to it. Unexpected, but really good.”
He murmurs under his breath in agreement, delicately touching his lips to the glass. We sit in companionable silence, allowing the day to crack and fall away. With a deep inhale and breathy exhale, he lets go of the remaining worries of the day, and I follow suit. His skin touching my skin is warm, and heat builds up in my lower belly. Having seen him so raw and emotional today, my rules feel cruel and wrong. I just want to comfort him, and I’m tired of ignoring that instinct.
Nudging his shoulder again, I ask, “So, do you want to talk about what happened earlier?”
He looks at the cocktail I created for him and then looks at me and shakes his head. “No… I don’t want to talk about that right now.”
I hold up my hands. “No big deal, we don’t have to talk about anything at all. Just wanted to give you the opportunity if you needed it.”
“Yeah, that’s not… what I need right now.” His voice is soft, and he says the last part on a sigh, but his eyes burn from the inside.
I lean a little bit more of my weight into him, pulled in by his gravity. “So, what is it you need right now?”
Those intense, ice-blue eyes pierce me deeply as he angles his face up toward mine. His request is silent yet unmistakable.
“Ah man, I was really trying to avoid this,” I admit, stroking his hair, entranced by the serene acceptance on his face. My heart is a hot, slow, steady thud as I look into his eyes.
“I know. Seems like a pretty bad idea.” He closes his eyes and leans into my fingers.
I smile, hugging him a bit closer, and then touch my fingers to his lips, whispering, “Yeah, but it’s the best bad idea I’ve got.”
My stomach bottoms out, and I take another breath, then meet his asking lips with mine.
Oh.
Oh,fuck.
I must’ve been seriously kidding myself. There was no way, no fucking way I was going to be able to avoid this. His lips feel like they were always mine. He sneaks an arm around the back of my neck and pulls me closer to him, searching with his tongue, begging for more. More pressure, more tongue, more heat. I kiss him deeply, and move my hands to his hips, pulling him toward me softly. He takes the hint and gracefully turns to me, crawling onto my lap in a straddle. In my dreams, both the night and day variety, when I allow myself to think of Elijah, I always think of this. Him straddling me on this couch. His weight against my lap, against my crotch, delicate, light, insistent. My arms around him, comforting him, protecting him from whatever sadness he’s hiding behind his troubled eyes. To have him here now in this exact position, exactly as I dreamed it… it sends chills up and down my body, and my cock is immediately rock hard. What’s more, so is his.
