He smiled. “Sorry about that.” Richard held his arms out for the boxes, which he stacked inside the door with ease, then signed his name on the delivery slip and passed the clipboard back to Donny with a twenty-dollar bill and closed the door without a word.
Donny shook his head and retreated down the walkway and climbed into the car. Roland was fiddling with his phone in the passenger seat, and he looked up and smiled when Donny turned the car on.
“Glad to see you made it out safely,” Roland said with a smile.
“I did. He’s still super weird, but I managed to evade the basement, and he gave me a good tip, so I think it’s a win.” Donny chuckled.
“What about the other sad little delivery boys he has down there, though?”
Donny sucked in a dramatic breath, “They can fend for themselves. The important thing is I’ll live to fuck your pretty little ass at least one more day.”
He had been seeing, and fucking, Roland consistently for a few weeks, and Roland was smiling more, and drinking less. He was by no means a happy person or a sober person, but the change was noticeable, and Donny was pleased by it.
Roland still hadn’t set foot in the studio as far as Donny knew, but he’d been allowing Donny to draw him more. They would stay up nights, Donny tucked against Roland after he’d sketched something in the penthouse, and Roland would give him tips on refining his technique.
Donny had asked Roland if he would teach him to paint, but it hadn’t been the right question at the time. Roland had properly clammed up and then pounded an entire glass of vodka without even speaking. Donny had been left awestruck on the couch, and Roland looked surprisingly ashamed when he set the glass back down empty, so Donny didn’t bring it up after that.
Roland had good days and bad days, like most people. But Donny was well aware that unlike most people, Roland’s bad days were more like unexpected spirals into an abyss. He’d keep the blinds closed, and he wouldn’t speak to Donny beyond offering him the occasional exasperated grunt. When Roland got that way, Donny would fuck him senseless and then hold him in the quiet dark until they both fell asleep. On the nights Roland shook him off, he would just go home and when he returned the following day, Roland would be Roland again.
“Thanks for agreeing to come to lunch today,” Donny said while he tapped out a beat on the steering wheel.
“What if they don’t like me?”
“What’s not to like?”
Roland scoffed, “Be serious.”
“I am.” Donny glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “We have a half hour drive back to Beverly Hills. I can list the reasons.”
“You don’t even need the drive to the next exit before you’d run out of them.” Roland dropped his head against the window.
“You are handsome. You’re better than handsome. You’re fucking sexy as hell, with and without the beard, but especially without. Your jaw is unbelievably sexy, the way your face is shaped. Fuck. And your hair, it’s like fucking silk. It turns me on so much when we’re kissing and it drapes around our faces, like we’re in our own fucking world. Just you and me.” Donny reached across the console and squeezed Roland’s knee. “While I’m thinking about just you and me— your cock. Jesus. It’s a work of art by itself. You should pay attention to the way it throbs when you come, it’s unreal. And there’s the way you take care of Pete.”
“Pete is a cat; he doesn’t need to be taken care of.”
“Well, not anymore, but he did, and you did.”
“I got drunk and he sat in a blob of paint.”
“The one time and you made up for it.”
“By getting drunk and not letting him sit in paint.” Roland snorted a laugh.
“You’re missing the fucking point.” Donny snapped.
“And what is the fucking point then, Adonis?” Roland ran a hand through his hair and shook it back from his face.
“We’ve had this conversation before. What I think and what I feel fucking count. Stop trying to invalidate my feelings just because they disagree with yours.” Donny exited the freeway and tried to slow his heavy breathing. Roland hadn’t said anything, hadn’t looked at him, just fiddled with his phone in his lap. “I’m sorry. I understand that’s wrong of me. I know that me forcing my feelings on you makes you feel like I’m saying your perceptions don’t matter. But they do.”
Donny pulled into the guest parking and turned the car off, then angled himself in his seat and grabbed Roland’s hands and forced him to face him, both of their knees banging into the center console.
“I think the world of you,” Donny whispered. “This thing between us is important to me.”
Roland eyed him, his face marred with doubt.
“You are important to me.” Donny reached a hand up and wrapped his fingers around the back of Roland’s head and tugged him closer. Roland’s eyes closed and Donny pressed a kiss to his barely parted mouth.
“Why?” Roland asked.
