Jonah debated again. No, it wasn’t really a debate, more like him convincing himself that he didn’t really want to go in, that he was just being polite—though fuck knew why at this point. Jonah was shit at fooling himself.
He nudged the door open.Keep your eyes straight ahead, fucker. Be Lot. Don’t look. He barely remembered the bible story from Sundays in the group home in Philly—or maybe it had been Boston—but fuck knew Cas was nothing but temptation.
Jonah strode forward, movements efficient, gaze trained straight ahead, his peripheral vision swirls of white and gray and flesh tones. The shower turned off as he set the mug on the counter. He hesitated at the last second and switched the mugs.
His gaze moved to the mirror just in time to catch the door opening, Cas’s lithe figure stepping out and— thank fuck—he had a towel around his waist. All night, Jonah had lay with Cas in his arms, sweating and afraid to move because he didn’t want to wake him. Eventually, his erection had waned, leaving behind a dull, throbbing ache. He’d counted Cas’s breaths until the ache subsided and he’d lost track.
Now, his dick was threatening another round at the sight of Cas dappled in water. Rivulets streamed down the tattoo on the side of his neck, making it look like the ink was running.
“It’s there on the counter,” he grunted. Obvious, yet again, like the towels. With the other mug in hand, he skirted around Cas. Humid air clung to him, and he swore he could smell Cas’s skin. He wondered if he tasted like ink. With a grimace, Jonah stopped in the doorway and spun back around. “I need to apologize.”
Cas blinked, lips parting in apparent surprise. “You do? I mean, yeah, you do. For…?” His dark brows flickered together.
Jonah almost laughed, because wasn’t that a question? He probably owed Cas a hundred apologies, but he’d try for one. “For the massage parlor. That was… I fucked up.”
The furrow in Cas’s brow became a deeper trench. He picked up the mug and stared down at it, his voice strangely soft. “Oh. Well, yeah. Obviously.”
Christ, Jonah was struggling to get a read on him. Or maybe he’d always struggled and was only now becoming aware of it. “I’ve got your meds coming, too. I assumed it was the same prescription. Same strength, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Cas met his eyes again then cocked his head. “You remember the exact dose?”
Jonah nodded. He remembered the exact dose. He remembered how Cas kept the bottle tucked in the cabinet, always in this one corner nook beside the glasses. He remembered how Cas always lost the bread tie and would just twist and fold it under instead, which had annoyed Jonah to no end. How he kept his laptop immaculately clean, even if his clothes were strewn all over the place, and that he’d rather be too hot than too cold when he slept.
He couldn’t stop remembering things about Cas, even when he’d wanted to.
“It’s black.” Cas wrinkled his nose.
“What?” It took Jonah a second to realize Cas was talking about the coffee. “Oh. Yeah. I didn’t know what you liked in it. Wasn’t actually sure you drank it, either.”
Cas inclined his chin. “What’s in yours?”
“A little milk and two sugars.” Jonah leaned against the doorframe. Christ, the kid was hard to ignore. He fought the urge to let his gaze slide all over Cas’s body and drink in every sleek curve and compact muscle. He damn near choked on his coffee when Cas yanked the towel around his waist free to rub it roughly over his dark hair. Water droplets spattered the mirror, and the ends of Cas’s hair skewed wildly in all directions.
Jonah’s gaze strayed for only a second, but it was long enough for a glimpse of Cas’s semi-hard cock.Goddamn.Jonah cleared his throat. “We need to talk about what’s next. What you were doing in Russia. Who attacked you.”
Cas set his mug on the counter and extended his hand, presumably for Jonah’s mug. “I’ll take that one, if you don’t mind.”
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“Uh huh.” Cas raked his fingers through the onyx strands falling over his face, then turned his extended hand palm up and tilted his head with a slowly curving smile. “Did you hear whatIjust said?”
Jonah stared at him for a long moment, and Cas met his gaze evenly. His smile curled higher, an obvious challenge gleaming in his eyes.
Once, Cas would’ve looked away. Not anymore.
Jonah eased off the doorframe and lifted the mug to his lips, taking a long, savoring swallow before crossing his arms and tucking the mug close to his chest. “Come get it.”
Once, Jonah would’ve given in. Not anymore.
He didn’t know why he’d said that, though. It was so obviously a provocation.
Cas’s expression shifted minutely, but Jonah wasn’t confident of his reading of it until the moment he began slinking toward him.
Jonah kept still as Cas drew close and stopped inches from his face, bare toes brushing his, the soapy smell of his skin and hair surrounding him. Cas’s eyes were bright and alert behind thick lashes that drooped seductively to half-mast.
Jonah couldn’t look away from them even when Cas’s hands closed around his, guiding the mug to his lips.
“Mmm. Better, but not quite there.” Cas flicked his tongue over his lower lip. “Did you really think I’d take my coffee black?”
