Keaton chuckled. Once Jules was standing, he kissed the tip of their nose. “You’ll thank me later. Do you need help?”
“I think that’s supposed to sound sexy, but I’m too tired to get turned on.”
“It wasn’t meant to be a come-on.” Keaton wrapped his arms around Jules’s waist and started rubbing their back. “Trust me, I’d love nothing more than to get my hands all over your naked body, but I know that’s not what you need tonight. I was only offering to help because you’re about to pass out as it is.”
Keaton watched Jules disappear into the bathroom, then listened for the water to start. He took a few moments to tidy up the living room, arranging more cushions on the makeshift picnic spot and dimming the lights to a softer glow. They always ate at the table, but tonight, he thought Jules might appreciate something a bit more intimate.
As he waited for Jules to return, Keaton reflected on the day. He thought about the conversation with his mother, her gentle nudges and knowing smiles, the way she saw through his defenses with a clarity that both comforted and unnerved him. Her words had lingered, weaving themselves into his thoughts, encouraging him to embrace the happiness he found with Jules. He thought about his friends and how happy they were, how their work hadn’t suffered from having a personal life.
Jules emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a fluffy robe, their hair damp and tousled. They looked utterly at ease, a vision of contentment that made Keaton’s heart swell with affection. He moved to greet them, pressing a kiss to their temple, which elicited a sleepy smile.
He helped them get settled on the couch, then went into the bathroom for Jules’s hair products. It really said something that Jules was so tired they hadn’t so much as brushed their hair after showering. Not that Keaton actually knew what all “this” entailed, but he was determined to figure it out. Jules was meticulous about their hair. Keaton didn’t want tomorrow to berough because they obviously didn’t have the energy to do it tonight.
“Feel better?” he asked, his voice soft as he sat on the opposite end of the couch.
“Much,” Jules replied, their voice a little husky from the warmth of the shower. They noticed the comb and tube of goop Keaton found on the shelf. “Oh, I’m not dicking around with that tonight. I’ll wet it in the morning and deal with it then.”
“I was going to do it for you.” Keaton sat on the opposite end of the couch, one leg hanging over the side. He patted the cushion in front of him. “You’ll have to tell me if I do something wrong, but I think this is the right stuff.”
“Are you serious right now?” Jules gaped at him. They quickly flipped around, settling themself between Keaton’s legs. “I could get used to this.”
Keaton chuckled, pushing lightly on their shoulders so they leaned forward. “Good, because I plan on spoiling you every chance I get.”
Jules settled beside him, their shoulder brushing against his. “I think I could get used to that too. But isn’t dinner here yet?”
“They were running a bit behind tonight,” he replied, squirting a glob of the curling crème into his hands.
The moan Jules let out as Keaton worked his fingers through their hair went straight to his dick. He took a few calming breaths, reminding his traitorous body that tonight wasn’t about sex. Luckily, Paige had much curlier hair than the waves Jules was getting now that their hair was growing out a bit, so he had some clue what he was doing from watching her. He worked thecrème through Jules’s hair, then scrunched it carefully. He even twirled some curls around his fingers, mostly because he loved feeling the silky tresses slide across his hands.
The doorbell at the bottom of the stairs was an unwelcome intrusion. Jules jumped off the couch, ready to head for the door, when Keaton stopped them. “Please don’t take this as me being overbearing, but you’re not dressed for the delivery guy.”
Jules looked down at their robe and smirked. “Guess I’m not. I just got excited for food.”
“Why don’t you grab us something to drink, and I’ll run downstairs,” he suggested. When he stood, he pulled Jules in for a quick kiss. He gently bit Jules’s earlobe. “You have no clue how bad I wanted to do that all day.”
“Maybe next time you should,” Jules responded before twisting out of Keaton’s grasp. “Now, go get the food. I’m wasting away to nothing over here.”
There was a comfort in the easy banter, a rhythm they’d fallen into with surprising ease. Keaton hurried down for their delivery, and when he got back, Jules was sitting cross-legged on the floor waiting for him, the sides of their robe tucked carefully around their legs for a bit of modesty.
That was probably a good idea, or Keaton might not be able to focus on eating. As they unpacked the takeout containers, Keaton felt peace settle over him. The familiarity of Jules’s presence, combined with the newness of their relationship, was exhilarating in a way he hadn’t anticipated.
They dug into their meal, the rich flavors mixing with the relaxed vibe of the evening. Keaton watched as Jules savored each bite, their contentment palpable. It was these small, shared momentsthat made him realize how much he valued their connection, how much he relished the way it felt so right to have Jules in his life.
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional satisfied hum as they ate. Keaton was glad he’d thought of something as out of character for him as a picnic. He’d have to find more ways to surprise Jules.
“So,” Jules began, breaking the silence, “what’s your big dream for Anderson Homeworks? World domination?”
Keaton chuckled, though the question lingered, more profound than Jules might have intended. “Honestly? I’m not sure. I used to think it was about maintaining my dad’s legacy, keeping things just as they were…” He trailed off, the weight of those words heavier than he’d realized.
Jules nudged him gently, their eyes reflecting a quiet understanding. “But now?”
“Now, I guess I’m starting to see that maybe change isn’t the enemy. You’ve got me thinking about possibilities, about what growth could look like without losing sight of what’s important.” His voice was thoughtful, the confession coming easier than expected in the soft glow of their shared space. “One thing I’m starting to figure out is he didn’t hand the company over to me so I’d do everything the same way he always did. He wants me to put my own stamp on it.”
Jules smiled, a warmth in their gaze that echoed Keaton’s own feelings. “It’s like painting, really. You start with something solid, a foundation, but then you have to let it evolve.”
The analogy struck a chord, resonating with a clarity that brought Keaton a step closer to embracing the unknown. “You’reright,” he admitted, his voice carrying a newfound resolve. “I guess I just needed someone to point that out.”
Once the food was gone, Keaton glanced at Jules, noting the way they stretched out languidly, clearly savoring the comfort of their makeshift picnic.
