Tobias glared down at the pepper in his hand as if it had called him Toby, saying, “How is it unreasonable to want to have a conversation with the people who might want me dead?”
“I’m not even justifying that with an answer, Glasses. When you find out somebody is trying to kill you, you don’t serve yourself up to them on a silver platter.” Soren snorted like he was crazy.
It was a fair assessment, Tobias supposed. Soren made Tobias feel crazy. He’d been his shadow all day and appeared to be making good on his plans to stay the night. And not just stay but to make himself at home. His shoes sat beside Tobias’s just inside the front door as if they belonged there. His gun and holster hung over the back of one of the stools like he’d just come home from a day of crime fighting. There were pieces of Soren all over Tobias’s home now. It rattled him. He’d only been there a couple of days. What would the place look like in a month?
A month? No. Tobias didn’t even know how that had popped into his head. No, he did know. It came from Soren existing in Tobias’s space, barefoot in his worn out jeans and faded Grateful Dead shirt looking like he belonged, looking hotter than any man should. It was distracting. Dangerously distracting.
Tobias couldn’t afford to be distracted by Soren but he was woefully unprepared for fighting off this bubble of intimacy Soren had somehow magicked into existence, making Tobias acutely aware of him on a molecular level. Soren’s every move disturbed the barrier Tobias had built around himself, and he had no way to fight it. Being intimate with another human had always seemed so foreign a concept, so absurdly out of the question, that he’d never taught himself how to counteract it.
And now, Soren was in his space and in his kitchen and his head and Tobias hated it. No, that wasn’t exactly right. He hated how much he didn’t hate it. He hated how easily he’d slipped past his defenses. His gaze briefly flickered to Soren’s five o’clock shadow and tanned bare feet. A barefoot man in his kitchen shouldn’t make his dick hard. This was unacceptable.
He shook his head, expertly chopping the peppers. “See, this is why misunderstandings can last for lifetimes. People are so unwilling to just sit down and communicate.”
“You can’t talk your way out of a hit, Doc. That’s not how this works.”
Tobias continued to multitask, dicing the vegetables and conversing with Soren all while questioning his life choices. Tobias didn’t like people in his space. He had no need for company or comfort. People needed comfort. Tobias was more machine than man on his best day. Except when it came to Soren, a voice niggled.Andthatirked Tobias. That pebble in his shoe was now a boulder, making him feel like there was no room for him in his own space. He needed room, needed a place where he wasn’t expected to pretend. Somewhere he could just be the black void of nothingness that he was.
But that was the real problem. Soren didn’t expect him to be anything but what he was. Somehow, Soren looked into the abyss that was Tobias and it didn’t scare him. If anything, he seemed fascinated, which in turn fascinated Tobias. It made him think things he shouldn’t. It made him think in terms of metaphors which was truly just the absolute worst because Soren wasn’t a boulder or even a pebble, really; he was a worn out sneaker Tobias didn’t want to throw out because it had formed to his foot like a glove.
Soren just fit. He played with Mantis, complimented her on her kills, knew how to prep her insanely expensive dog food. Even now, he was sitting on Tobias’s counter—on his fucking counter like some heathen—watching Tobias prep their dinner and he felt comforted by his presence, not because he feared death but because Soren had molded himself to Tobias’s life, not trying to change it, just attempting to be a part of it. Tobias couldn’t understand why.
“Of course, I can,” Tobias countered, not feeling the need to quantify why this was an accurate statement.
Soren’s warm chuckle washed over him, hardening his nipples. That was the other thing. Sex. Actual sex. Well, not penetration but skin to skin contact. Mouth to skin contact. Hand to cock contact. It was all so new to him. Not the mechanics, obviously. But the ability to let go and enjoy another person’s body, their touch. Tobias liked Soren’s hands on him, liked kissing him, sucking him, the velvet feel of his cock in his hand.
Tobias needed to focus. They were having a serious conversation.
“Toby, even you have to admit this goes beyond a minor squabble. People are trying to kill you.”
Tobias waved the knife. “I could be hit by a bus tomorrow. I can’t control that. What I can control is my actions. I refuse to live with a bullseye on my back. We just need to find a way to get in touch with…the head guy.”
“The head guy?” Soren repeated.
Tobias threw a look over his shoulder to find Soren swinging his bare feet with a baffled look on his face. Tobias heaved a sigh. “Yes. The head guy. The Godfather. The Don. The CEO of the Rafferty crime syndicate. I don’t exactly understand their corporate structuring, but there must be somebody who sits at the top of their food chain.”
“Did you hit your head or something, Glasses, because that goes beyond talking to Killeen’s guys. That’s just suicide. You don’t just talk to the boss of a crime family. There’s an etiquette to these things.”
Tobias glanced at Soren, his gaze snagging on his frown. “I don’t think you get to lecture me on etiquette when your ass is currently planted on the same counter where I make my breakfast.”
Tobias’s heart jumped when Soren hopped off the counter and padded silently over to where he stood, wrapping his arms around him from behind and untucking his shirt, like he had a right to, until his palms ran over his belly, skating upwards. He nipped Tobias’s ear as he pulled him back against his obvious erection. “The irony is, I’ve been sitting over there contemplating making your ass my dinner.”
“That’s not ironic or sexy,” Tobias said, only half lying. He set the knife on the counter before he accidentally cut off a finger but made no move to turn around, couldn’t really. Soren had him sandwiched between him and the countertop, leaving just enough room for him to slide a hand lower, his thumb following the outline of Tobias’s cock.
“You telling me this hard-on is from dicing vegetables?” Soren’s voice was low and throaty in a way Tobias found dangerous. “You really do have a knife kink, Glasses.”
Tobias’s cock throbbed under Soren’s light touch, and he internally scolded himself for tilting his head so he could feel more of Soren’s stubble against his skin. “I have no such thing.” Tobias was most definitely lying that time. He sucked in a breath when Soren dragged him back against him.
“Oh, now we both know that’s not true,” Soren murmured, opening Tobias’s pants and slipping his hand inside. He teased him through the thin cotton barrier of his underwear. “I bet I could get you off with just my voice if I told you about a kill, told you exactly the way it happened, spared no detail. The feel of the knife in my hand, the smell of the blood, the way the life drained from their eyes. Would you like that, Doc?”
Yes. Tobias’s mouth ran dry, his eyes falling shut, and he was unable to stop himself from pushing into Soren’s palm. He didn’t know how to do this, how to be vulnerable with somebody in this way. He couldn’t bring himself to say a word, but he prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that Soren didn’t stop touching him.
The pressure of Soren’s hand disappeared, then his thumbs hooked into Tobias’s underwear, pushing the waistband down just enough to be out of the way before his hand wrapped around his leaking cock, voice teasing. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Your body speaks loud and clear. But it would be nice to hear you fall apart. I love the sounds you make—not the obvious ones, but the ones you can’t help.” Tobias swallowed hard as Soren nuzzled the side of his neck. “I want you naked, Toby.”
Tobias could do this. He wanted to, even. But it was so new to him—not that somebody wanted him, but that he wanted them back. And he did want Soren. Even if he was making fun of him. Even if he shouldn’t. Even if it made everything infinitely more complicated.
When Soren tugged at the hem of Tobias’s shirt, he lifted his arms like a child but made no further move to help, too in his own head to do much more than let Soren undress him. Then he was naked, standing in his kitchen, and Soren was fully clothed, falling to his knees.
He hissed when Soren’s teeth sank into his ass cheek before lightly slapping it. “Fuck, your body really is a work of art, Glasses, especially this ass,” Soren mused, squeezing and giving it a little jiggle. “But you gotta loosen up. Can you do that? I promise I’ll be gentle.”
