He wasn’t looking for a relationship, not even close. But a reliable fuck buddy?
He wouldn’t say no to that.
He put on his cockiest grin, turned back to Farzan, and tried to ignore how he was still naked.
“Hey. If you want to hook up again, I’d be down.”
Farzan stared at him, and David wished he’d put on some clothes, because all that skin was distracting. Also, it was fucking awkward, standing here buttoning his shirt while Farzan stood there with his dick swinging.
Farzan swallowed, and he got this look in his eyes, like a kicked puppy. “Hook up?” he asked, voice soft and brittle.
This was not going the way David meant. He didn’t want to hurt Farzan, he just—
“Is that all this was?”
“I mean, yeah. Wasn’t it?”
Okay, maybe he could’ve put that better, because Farzan was blinking faster now. He really hadn’t wanted to make him cry.
“Listen—” David began. He needed to explain. Farzan was a great guy, but David wasn’t looking foranyguy right now. He just didn’t have time.
David’s phone tried to buzz itself off the edge of the bed. He barely caught it in time.
“Shit, my ride’s here.” That was way faster than he expected. He slipped his socks on; his shoes were still in the living room.
Farzan stepped back as David hurried to the door and stuffed his feet in his shoes. He loved these high-tops, but damn they were hard to get on in a hurry.
“Uh. Get home safe.” Farzan’s voice had gone hoarse.
Please, please don’t cry.David already felt awful.
“Thanks. See you around?”
“Sure,” Farzan said.
But he was trying hard not to look at David. His cheeks and ears and neck and chest were all red.
And he was still naked.
Naked and beautiful, even when upset. David wanted to fold him into a hug, run his hands through Farzan’s hair, make him understand…
His phone buzzed again.
His ride was about to take off without him. So he settled for grabbing his jacket and giving a little wave.
“Bye.”
David pulled into his driveway, grabbed his coffee out of the cupholder, and let himself into his house. It was still dark out, though the eastern sky was beginning to brighten, and a few familiar crows were starting to caw.
David had forgotten how much he liked the sounds of Kansas City: mourning doves in the morning, cicadas in the afternoon, jazz wafting out of an open window. His apartment in Chicago’s South Loop had made it easy to get to his job—he hadn’t even needed a car; he could walk or take a scooter—but all he ever heard there were traffic and sirens.
David let himself in, tossed his keys on the table, and flopped onto the couch. At least as much as he could flop without spilling his coffee.
Fuck.
His house usually smelled somewhere between clean and slightly floral: his mom loved lavender and kept buying him candles. But something was off today.
His suit smelled. He gave it a sniff. Jasmine and citrus and cedar andfuck.
