He almost put them in the shoe rack. But maybe he could coerce someone into punishing him for leaving them out. Even if his ass cheeks still stung red from last night.
Kit ditched his socks too, just to increase the severity of his crime. His gun and holster went in the designated cabinet, because he was bratty, not stupid. Then he headed for the kitchen. A cold beer sounded like a nice way to kick off the summer afternoon.
Sure, it was mid-September. That was still summer in San Corvo.
The paper bag between the whole milk and the almond milk was new. Kit reached, curious. It looked like the croissants Bishop sometimes brought home. But before Kit touched the paper, the roughly written label stopped him.
HUMAN HAND, DON’T EAT
Kit blinked, then closed the fridge. No longer thirsty, he headed towards the lazy, breezy music.
The glass sliding doors were already open. Kit paused at the threshold, a grin tugging his lips as he took in the sight. The backyard must have been designed for hosting. There were gathering places by the pool, firepit, and patio bar, plus a gazebo and a swing further into the xeriscaping. Probably not designed with a fivesome in mind, but it worked well for their purposes too. Bishop and Holden sat at the poolside table, sharing a laptop beneath a blue and white striped umbrella. Darius and James were closer, at the patio bar.
Darius perched on a stool, clad only in swim trunks, which meant he was gloriously shirtless and gleaming in the afternoonsunlight. James stood behind the bar, wearing a garish red and yellow Hawaiian shirt.
Everyone’s eyes zeroed in on Kit.
“Missed you, darling,” Holden called out.
James whistled. “Get your cute little ass over here. What do you want to drink, and why is it a watermelon daiquiri?”
“Is that what you’ve been doing?” Bishop asked, the skepticism clear across the patio.
Darius chuckled. “He’s getting pretty good at them. Hasn’t lit anything on fire in twenty minutes.”
Kit padded to the bar, equal parts curious and alarmed. A normal, enjoyable state of being. The floorboards warmed his bare feet, and the comfortable welcome warmed everything else.
“I didn’t know watermelon daiquiris were a thing, but I’m pretty sure they shouldn’t involve fire,” Kit pointed out, hopping onto the stool next to Darius. He winced on the landing, then squirmed extra for the benefit of Darius’s knowing look.
“Darius is lying to make me look bad.” James leaned over the bar. “You, of course, look delicious as always.”
This close, Kit realized that under the Hawaiian shirt, James was wearing the smallest, tightest swimsuit he’d ever seen. The red fabric hugged him so close, Kit could see the thick vein running under his dick.
Then James’s hand twisted into Kit’s shirt, and his teeth sank into Kit’s lower lip. Kit moaned, sharp and startled, and opened his mouth to James’s exploration. His shirt collar tightened around his throat, little pains punctuating the addictive heat of James’s mouth.
James pulled away when Kit was flushed and breathless. Darius adjusted himself from his front-row seat, blatantly staring.
“How was tutoring?” James asked, rightfully smug.
Kit sank back onto the stool, rubbing his neck. “Pretty good? Tina thinks I should take the language arts test soon. Then I can forget all that and focus on math.”
Studying was more of a learning curve than Kit had naively hoped for. Turned out dropping out of school for a couple years of drugs and depression wasn’t great brain exercise. But Kit liked the challenge more than he expected.
Now that he could use his real SSN, he had a driver’s license. He could get his GED. His passport application was currently processing; James had been making very unsurprising noises about a surprise vacation abroad. James’s corporate leave of absence didn’t seem like a punishment at all.
Everything was new and strange and exciting. Not normal like Kit had always thought it would be. Especially with his boyfriends’ help. James had even found a hot tutor for Kit, per his joking request.
At least, Kit assumed Tina was hot if you liked women. Alas, not Kit’s type.
Probably for the best. The bed was already crowded with five of them. So was the living room couch, the hot tub, the kitchen counter, and everywhere else they tended to fuck.
Speaking of the kitchen.
“What’s with the hand in the fridge?” Kit asked, as James poured the ice and ingredients into the blender.
“Ask him,” James said, then started the blender.
Darius waited for the buzzing crunching to stop. “Rat King stuff. Nothing to worry about.”
