20
After his speech, there was a certain amount of glad-handing as people came up to Seb to talk about the Alice piece and ask about his work. It was gratifying, and he managed to bite back most of the snappy answers about how they’d never had an interest in his art before. Maybe they just needed to see it up close. He wore the battery out on his phone sending texts with information on the Schiller exhibit and contacts for the representative at the Diving Bell Gallery.
Gillian took Dinah home as the last of the guests trailed out. Parker made noises about dinner, but the extended finger foods in the afternoon had most of them groaning and begging off.
Oliver, Seb, and Martin found themselves in the family den. The TV was on, but the food coma meant Seb wasn’t sure what they were watching. He was pressed against Martin’s side, head on his shoulder. Oliver laughed at the screen from time to time, but none of them were really watching.
“When did you make that?” Martin whispered.
“It took a few weeks.”
“A few weeks? That’s all?”
Seb grinned and burrowed a little closer. Martin’s jacket was off, and the stiff cotton of his shirt crinkled under Seb’s cheek.
“It only takes a few weeks, provided things like sleeping and eating aren’t much of a priority.” Seb wrapped an arm around Martin’s body. “Thanks for coming this weekend. I’m not sure we could have escaped homicide without your moderating influence.”
Martin smiled down at him. “Weekend’s not over yet.”
“Hey.” Oliver growled as he paused whatever movie they were watching. “If you’re going to talk through the whole thing, go somewhere else.”
Seb bared his teeth, and Ollie flipped them off. Martin pulled Seb close again, and he settled, dozing for a while. The movie was one of those loud exploding ones Oliver had always liked. Seb thought they were boring and had long ago learned to sleep through most of them. When he woke, his head was in Martin’s lap, and Martin’s fingers played in his hair.
“Hey.” Martin’s voice was soft.
“Hi.” Seb curled and stretched like a cat. He rolled until he could kiss Martin’s palm.
“Jesus, go find a room before you set the couch on fire with the eye fucking.” Oliver’s disgust didn’t carry much bite.
“Are you sure you have to move to Seacroft? It’s a nice place. I’d hate for your attitude to corrupt it.”
“You’re moving to Seacroft?” Martin’s hands stopped moving, and Seb nuzzled against him.
“Did you miss that detail?”
“When was I supposed to get it?”
“During the yelling match otherwise known as dinner last night.” Oliver turned the movie off.
“Yeah,” Martin said. “I must have missed that.”
“I still don’t understand why it has to be Seacroft.” Seb ran a hand underneath Martin’s untucked shirt, rewarded by a sharp inhale as Seb skimmed over his belly.
Oliver looked pointedly away and rolled his eyes. “We—I did the research. The town has the right demographics to support the kind of business I want to run, and the revenue from tourists in the summer will support it through the quieter off season. Plus, it’s a little farther away from here, and byhereI mean Dad, which, as you’ve proven all these years, isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”
“That last part is the most honest thing you’ve said in days.”
Oliver grinned at him.
The house was quiet. Parker and her family had gone home, taking Gillian, Julian and their brood with them, and Seb’s parents had never been night owls. Oliver made noises about going out in search of more entertainment on a Saturday night, but Seb threw a glance at Martin, and the sleepy flicker in his eye said staying in was the better choice. Seb wrapped his hand around Martin’s and wished his brother a good night.
It was different, the second time. Seb followed Martin into the guest room, instead of sneaking in through the open patio door. Their kisses were slow and lazy, where the night before Seb had been a ball of frenzied energy in search for an outlet. As they undressed each other, Seb took the time to taste Martin’s mouth.
“I love the way you look in this suit,” Seb breathed as he pulled the belt from Martin’s waist.
“I could leave it on?”
“I like the way you look out of it even more.” He ran his hands over the wiry hair on Martin’s chest, gratified with a soft laugh as Martin’s hands explored his body.
