Except now I lie here, staring at the ceiling while increasingly incandescent rage burns inside me.
Problem is, I don’t know if I’m angrier at Leo, or myself.
* * * *
At some point, I do finally fall asleep. Then I have that great dream about Leo sucking my cock again, just to wake up enough to realize it’s Elliot who’s crouched between my thighs and has my cock balls-deep in his hot, perfect mouth, doing dirty things to me with that sweet, eagerly talented tongue of his.
Okay, then.
I close my eyes, hold on to his head, and don’t hold back. After I’ve come and he climbs up the bed again to snuggle with me, I peel an eye open and see it’s 1:17 in the morning.
“Go back to sleep, Sir,” he whispers, pulling me into his arms and holding me.
With an orgasm out of the way, I do.
When I next wake up, it’s my watch vibrating on my wrist, telling me it’s my normal time.
Elliot’s still sound asleep.
I get up, shut off my alarms, and head to the bathroom. As I use it, I see all of Elliot’s supplies for Duck in their proper places, the inner liner on the drying rack, and wonder if Leo did that with him last night. Their routine.
One that’s now my routine with Elliot, too.
There’s no escaping Leo’s presence in our lives, even when he’s not physically with us.
It’s Friday, and we’ve got a busy schedule today and this weekend.
Last night slams into me and my rage returns, flaring bright before I rein it in. I have no doubts that Leo’snotgoing to let up the pressure on me to talk. He might back off for a day or two, but I have to shoehorn a discussion of my own with Elliot into a limited number of hours so I can finally have that talk with Leo.
Once I finish in the bathroom, I grab my work and personal cell phones and head downstairs to prepare our coffee.
Just to find a plate of danishes and two prepared travel mugs of coffee sitting on the kitchen counter.
With a sticky note with a heart drawn on it.
The coffee’s hot, of course. When I place my hand against the Keurig, it’s warm. I find the used pods in the garbage, and they’re still warm, too.
Motherfucker.
I’m equally torn between being creeped the fuck out and desperately in love with the man. I never heard the alarm beep—
Fuck.
I think about last night, when I came in, how the alarm didn’t beep when I opened the door. I didn’t think about it at the time…
But of course Leo knows how to operate the fucking system. He has access to it.
He reprogrammed it not to chime when the door opens.
I turn and lean against the counter with my personal cell in my hand and find that Leo’s been once again sending me texts since yesterday morning. The latest just ten minutes ago, but I had my phone indo not disturbmode and had removed the exclusion for Leo’s contact, so it didn’t even vibrate.
Good morning. :)
I ponder my response, or if I should even send one.
On the one hand, he’sreallytrying. That my foul mood hasn’t deterred him in the slightest is…
Discombobulating.
