Laughter bubbles out of him in low, husky waves. “Fine! I believe you. Are you happy now?”
“Happy?” I run my hand up and down his thigh, squeezing deeply. My heart is full. Swollen and plumped up. Beating powerfully without a net of old scars caging it. “Nah, happy doesn’t begin to describe it.”
We hold eye contact for a second and then turn our attention to the road. Ahead of us, two hundred yards or so from where we are, there’s a join. A tiny step down where the tar intersects. A tear in time. A before and an after. A place where then and now meet.
We don’t discuss it. We don’t say a word.
He holds out his hand to me. His fingers are long and splayed open. I know what it is. An offering. A pledge. A new kind of oath.
I take it.
We knit our fingers tightly together, lifting our feet and throwing our heads back, screaming and laughing as we hurtle into the future.
28
“Stony limits can’t keep love out”
Eight months later
Romeo sits at thedining table with pages strewn all around him, some on the table, some crumpled on the floor at his feet, and others stuck to the fridge and kitchen cabinets with magnets and washi tape. The walls in the apartment are blue, a nice contrast to the brick wall in the living room. It’s a dusty blue two or three shades darker than Romeo’s eyes. When I painted my apartment years ago, I redid them twice in an effort to achieve a perfect glass-bottle blue, but despite that, it seems the match was a little off.
Turns out, the color doesn’t matter that much. Now that Romeo’s here and we’ve hung all of Sal’s paintings up, you can hardly see the walls. There’s art and gilt frames everywhere.
It’s a lot.
It’s giving Dark Academia Meets Mad Professor.
I couldn’t possibly love it more.
Romeo taps at his keyboard as I approach, a softrat-a-tat-tatthat’s synonymous with home to me now. His lips are ajar, an incisor resting on pillowy bottom lip. Daydreamy eyes are wide and slightly glazed over as he watches words appear on his screen. His hair is overlong and unruly, curling at the base of his neck.
He’s a vision. The answer to every question I’ve ever asked. The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
My friend. My lover.
My Romeo.
I pad over to him quietly, bare feet on cool timber, reaching out and stroking his shoulder to bring him down to Earth gently.
He blinks and a blunt tooth scrapes over skin, releasing it as his jaw drops ever so slightly.
As always, he looks a little surprised to see me, like he wasn’t expecting me to be here or wasn’t expecting to find himself in a New York apartment. He draws a quick breath and surprise gives way to a too-big-to-be-cool smile.
“Morning,” he says, hands traveling up my arms, scouring the hair he finds there, and pulling me closer. “Did you sleep well?”
“Mm…” I run my fingers through his hair, combing it gently. “So good.You?”
A hand drifts and fingers curl in the dark hair that runs from my navel to my cock. He tugs at the drawstring of my linen pants and his bottom lip juts out in a tiny pout.
“Why all these clothes, Tiger?”
I laugh and bat him away. “Early meeting,” I remind him. “You should’ve woken me if that’s your mood.”
“I know.” He sighs. “I’ll regret it all day, but you looked so peaceful I couldn’t bring myself to disturb you.” He tilts his head back and offers me his mouth.
I kiss him, stamping my lips lightly against his, grinding my stiffening cock against his hand as it moves down my body. “I’ll come home early tonight, okay?” He strokes once or twice, just enough to ensure that my brain goes offline. “I’ll make it worth your while. I’ll make it so you can’t sit all day tomorrow without thinking of me.”
“You promise?”
