“Do you have anything to say?” Joe asked.
Scott cleared his throat and ran his fingers over the letter again as he flattened it out a little more. The envelope had obviously been stored in Joe’s pocket for quite some time. The creases were pretty much ironed into it.
“Are you g-going to sit d-d-down?” he blurted out.
Joe glared at Scott for a few seconds before lifting a chair off one of the neighbouring tables, turning it around and straddling it. “Now, talk.”
Scott didn’t know why he’d thought Joe would be less intimidating while sitting. Joe really didn’t need to loom to make Scott as nervous as hell. Between Joe’s presence and the contents of the letter, Scott wasn’t sure he’d make it through any sort of conversation without having a nervous breakdown.
“Th-thank you, sir,” Scott finally blurted out. “For the l-l-letter, I mean.” He stared at it for a few moments.
Leaning forward, Joe reached around the back of his chair and set his forearms on the table. “Tell me what you want, Scott. What is it that you need from me in order to stick around and see if we can make this work?”
“I…” Scott closed his eyes. “I d-don’t know.” He managed to pry his eyes open with great difficulty. “I’m n-not trying to be awkward, s-sir. I don’t know w-w-what I need.”
Joe stared at him for several long seconds. Scott held his breath as he waited to hear his verdict. When Joe finally spoke, his words were slow and deliberate. “Then, tell me what you want—not for the rest of your life, just for tonight. Tell me what you want at this exact moment.”
“You.” Scott had never known a question that was easier to answer. He wanted Joe, just as he always had.
“Specifics,” Joe ordered. “You want us to have a drink together? You want us to have sex?”
“Anything I c-can—”
“No.” Joe slammed his fist down on the table. “Whatyouwant. Not what you think you deserve, or what you think I want you to want. Just…” He paused for a moment, apparently to pull himself together. “Just tell me what you want us to do together; right here, right now.”
“Kiss me.” Scott’s grip on the edge of the table was so tight his fingers cramped. “I w-want you to k-kiss me. Then I want us to have s-s-sex. I don’t care about the d-details. I just want to f-f-feel you against me, to feel you inside m-me. And I want to pretend it d-doesn’t matter what happens in the future. Just for one n-n-night, I want to forget to be scared and just b-b-be with you.”
He had no idea if he made any sort of sense, or if his rambling would be the straw that broke the camel’s back. All he could do was sit there and hope like hell Joe would forgive him for any and all sins he’d committed and decide to screw him anyway.
* * * * *
Joe stood up. The legs of his chair scraped against the freshly mopped floor. Even to his own ears, the sound was loud and harsh. Scott damn near jumped out of his skin.
“Come on. We’re going back to your place.”
“M-my place?” Scott repeated, blankly.
“Yeah. Your place.” Joe walked around the table and pulled Scott’s chair out while Scott still sat on it. “Get up.” If Scott hadn’t obeyed, Joe knew he was capable of picking up the chair and tossing him out of the damn thing, but Scott pulled himself to his feet in time.
Joe guided Scott out of the club and to his car with a firm grip on his elbow. For the first half of the journey toward the house in which Scott rented a room, silence filled the car. Joe tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he stopped at a set of traffic lights.
“I ams-s-sos-s-sorry,” Scott suddenly said.
Joe glanced across at him. “For what?”
“I d-don’t have any m-more toys than I h-h-had before,” Scott rushed out. “If I’d known w-w-we’d be coming back to my place, I c-c-could have—”
“Toys aren’t necessary.” Joe pulled away from the junction.
“Maybe we c-c-could stop somewhere and I could—”
“Scott,” Joe snapped. He took a deep breath and made a point of gentling his voice when he saw how Scott tensed. “It’s okay. I’ve got everything under control.”
He stole another glance at Scott just in time to see Scott nod his head. His lips moved as if he was silently repeating those words to himself.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Joe told him, with far more confidence than he felt.
“Yes, s-sir.”
