Remington smiled. “Hi.”
“This was easier when I was drinking,” he said, also completely unprompted.
“You’re drinking now.”
“What? No, I’m not.” Sebastian waved his hands around, displaying their emptiness.
“I can smell wine on your breath.” Remington stood up, done taking off his shoes, and Sebastian became painfully aware of how close they were standing. He let out a breath, then snapped his lips together between his teeth.
“You didn’t say I couldn’t drink,” Sebastian reminded.
“I know. You’re the one acting like you’ve done something wrong. Offering me confessions before salutations.”
“I said hello first,” he grumbled, walking away from Remington and into the living room. He sat down in the spot Callahan had occupied, the cushion still mostly warm from his best friend’s body heat.
“Is there something specific you want to talk about?” Remington joined him on the couch.
“No.” He cleared his throat and angled his body toward the taller man. “Callahan just said something that pissed me off before he left. I’ll get over it.”
“Alright. Tell me about your week then.”
“Is this what we’re doing?” Sebastian scrunched his nose.
“Talking?”
“I thought…” he gestured toward the hallway. “When you said on the weekends I was yours…”
He trailed off, not being brave enough to finish the sentence. He’d spent the last half of the week pretty sure that his weekend would start and end with sex with Remington, but he also hadn’t wanted to presume. Either way, he’d spent so long hyping himself up about being with an actual real life man, he’d practically worked himself into a frenzy. He was nervous and a little scared, but he wanted it so much.
“We have 48 hours,” Remington said. “There’s more to this than just that, right?”
“Of course, yeah.” Sebastian shrugged. “I’m sorry. Yes. Definitely. I’ve just been thinking a lot about it since Wednesday.”
“I have too,” Remington’s voice went lower and softer. “At work today, I was going through the initial review on that copy ofTamerlaneyou gifted.”
“Oh?” Sebastian rasped.
Remington rested the very tip of his pointer finger on the top of Sebastian’s knee, dragging it slowly up toward his thigh.
“You know I’ve never been with a man before.” Remington paused, his cheeks turning pink. “And I was thinking about what kind of lover I want to be.”
“Oh?” he managed again, clearly not capable of more than monosyllables.
“My first thought was gentle, but then I worried you’d think I wasn’t confident.”
Sebastian croaked.
“Then I thought maybe more aggressive.” Remington settled his whole hand on top of Sebastian’s thigh, giving him a squeeze.
“What did you decide?” he asked, whole body swaying as he leaned in toward Remington.
“Thorough.”
“Fuck,” Sebastian exhaled, back to single syllables.
Remington smirked and, with his free hand, adjusted the frames of his glasses, almost like a nervous habit. Sebastian wondered which of them was the most nervous and he worried it was him. Remington’s hand on his leg felt steady, and he’d been able to speak in full and coherent sentences. More than Sebastian had managed, that was for sure.
“And I know that I’ve done a lot of dictating so far. You know, making the decisions about how things are supposed to be,” Remington continued. “But in this…this one thing…I think I’ll need some guidance.”
