“Yeah, Glasses. We’re staying here. Our target is a few rooms over. Did you think murder would somehow be more glamorous?”
Tobias squared his shoulders, doing his best to look imperious. “Somewhat, yes.”
Soren laughed, the sound washing over Tobias. He liked making Soren laugh, even if he was usually the target of the joke.
The frigid wind and rain hit his skin like tiny daggers as he bolted toward the door, safe under the overhang until Soren could get the key in the lock. Once he pushed the door open, Tobias’s optimism was dashed for good. The room wasn’t dirty exactly, just worn. Like visiting somebody’s grandmother’s house. None of the patterns matched. The floral comforter was frayed at the edges, and the carpet had dizzying geometric designs that directly clashed with the ugly gray of the bedding. Even the lights seemed an anemic yellow, painting everything in sepia tones. It also smelled odd, like they hadn’t left the rain outside but brought it with them. Mildew probably. It would be rather poetic justice if they rented this motel room to kill somebody only to have the black mold within kill them back.
Tobias’s gaze followed Soren as he entered the small bathroom and turned on the light, grabbed two towels, and tossed one to him. He stared at it curiously before watching Soren towel off his hair and realizing he was supposed to dry off as well. When Soren stripped off his shirt and dropped it to the floor, Tobias allowed himself one long, lingering gaze over the other man’s toned torso before averting his eyes, earning another laugh. There was the sound of a zipper and then a rustling as Soren dug through his bag, presumably for clothes that weren’t soaked through.
“Okay, Glasses. You can turn around. Your modesty is still intact. I’m sufficiently covered,” he said, his amusement obvious. But before he could comply, Soren was behind him, hands on his hips. “Or maybe don’t. I kind of like this view.”
Tobias shivered as Soren’s lips landed just below his hairline on the back of his neck. He was right; his lips were cold, in direct opposition to the warm palms creeping up under his damp sweater, raising goosebumps along his skin.
Soren’s mouth moved to his throat, then up to his ear. “I gotta be honest. This modesty thing is kind of hot. Though, it’s maybe a bit late, considering I’ve had my fingers inside you.”
Tobias cleared his throat. “One finger, barely,” he clarified, throat hoarse at the memory. “Maybe I just don’t want to be distracted right now…on a job.”
Soren’s hands trailed higher, his thumbs swiping over Tobias’s hardened nipples, that low timbre right beside his ear. “Do I distract you, Toby?”
“Yes,” he admitted, swallowing hard and letting his weight sag back against Soren like he’d wanted to do for days, pressing back against Soren’s obvious erection. Some part of Tobias was relieved it wasn’t just him who couldn’t keep himself from touching.
Soren seemed surprised by Tobias’s sudden admission, but it was clear he was on board with it. “Now who’s being a distraction?” Tobias smiled, though Soren couldn’t see it, but it faded when Soren gave him a gentle push. “Let’s put a pin in this until I can give you the attention you deserve. We have some recon to do. Then I’m taking you to dinner.”
Tobias tried not to let his disappointment show. And hewasdisappointed. Deeply disappointed. Part of him just wanted Soren to take charge, to make the decisions, to give Tobias a moment where he didn’t have to think. He shook the thoughts away. He needed to focus on why they were there.
It turned out recon involved nothing more than ensuring their target still lingered in his own dingy motel room, an easy task with the volume on their target's television turned high up enough that it was clear he was watching porn and enjoying it.
Ronin had done the heavy lifting, keeping a detailed record of the target’s timeline. Said target seemed to have a standing reservation with a strip club down the road, spending hours there nightly in the company of a stripper named Krystal. They just needed to kill time until he left and then they could prepare for his return.
Once they returned to their motel room, Tobias donned gloves to strip the bed and replace their bedding with his own. Soren sat in the vinyl-covered chair at the makeshift table watching Tobias with an almost indulgent smile, like Tobias was crazy for not wanting to sleep on semen-stained sheets.
They’d be lucky if the place didn’t have bed bugs. Tobias shuddered at the thought.
“Satisfied?” Soren asked once Tobias had piled the linens in the corner.
“Hardly, but we’re probably far less likely to catch a disease sleeping in that bed now.” Tobias scoffed.
“You saying you want to sleep with me, Glasses?” Soren teased.
“As opposed to sleeping on this moldy, mildewed carpet that will likely give me black lung? It was a difficult choice, but you won in the end. Barely.” Tobias sniffed delicately.
“Lucky me,” Soren murmured, his words full of filthy promise. Tobias turned away, closing his eyes and praying for patience. “We got time to kill. Let’s go grab some food.”
Food involved the IHOP about a half a mile from the motel. Tobias had never eaten in the popular chain restaurant before. The decor was rather unimaginative and the place was packed, but it was clean and the staff were friendly. They sat in a rounded back corner booth that allowed them to sit side by side or on opposite sides of the table.
Tobias’s eyes went wide when Soren slid all the way over until their thighs brushed together. The server smiled warmly at them as she took their drink orders and left their menus, clearly believing they were on a date. At least Rhode Island was gay friendly, Tobias supposed. It would really throw off their timeline if they had to worry about being victims of homophobic villagers.
Once their food arrived—chocolate chip pancakes for Soren, a veggie omelet for Tobias—his thoughts snagged on a question.Werethey on a date? Soren was close enough that their fingers brushed against each other every time one of them reached for something on the table. When Tobias’s water glass emptied, it was Soren who flagged the server for more. He’d done everything but hold the door open when they arrived.
Soren paused on the last bite of his dinner, giving him a puzzled look. “You good?”
“Is this a date?” Tobias blurted loud enough to get the attention of the tables around them.
Soren gave the other patrons an apologetic smile before tilting his head and leaning in. “Does itfeellike a date?”
Tobias frowned. “I don’t know. I’ve never been on one before.”
Soren seemed to process that bit of information before finally asking, “Not even to keep up your everyman image?”
