“Much appreciated,” I say as I take the mug, playing it cool.
He sits back on the edge of the windowsill, stone in the brick wall, with morning light shining behind him.
“I need to meet with my trainer soon,” Spencer says, “but I wanted to check in before I go.”
He’s been waiting for me to get up. Am I interfering with his training? I’m such an ass.
“Yeah, of course.” I roll out of bed in my boxers. “I’m up.” I nod toward the kitchen. “Have you eaten yet?”
“I’ve been stretching and eating.” He swallows. “And I made omelets.”
I sniff. “And bacon?”
Fuck, he’s perfect. Oh fuck.
He nods, and I kick on some sweatpants, aware that I’m already half-hard just from being in Spencer’s presence.
“Thank you,” I tell him and grab my old gray hoodie, too. “I’m hungry as fuck.”
He chuckles. “Like after a tennis tournament.” As we walk across to the kitchen, I can feel that he’s nervous. “Something really came over me last night,” he says. “I’m sorry if that was…”
“Spencer, do not apologize for last night,” I say immediately. “There were way too many orgasms for anyone to apologize.”
He chuckles. “If only it were that easy.” Spencer enters my kitchen like he lives here, a fact I find deeply pleasing. He pulls the omelet and bacon from the oven where he’s keeping them warm, serving them up while he talks.
“This morning, I realized that I haven’t been entirely consistent. You’re so straightforward and clear about what you want and what you’re available for.” He turns to look at me. “I’m still figuring out what works for me, and I hope that’s not frustrating for you.”
“You’re allowed to take your time figuring it out,” I tell him, holding his gaze. “And I’m not bothered.”
He nods. “No pressure,” Spencer says, “but if you want to do that again next time we see each other, I’m interested.” He slides me a plate. “No expectations or commitments, of course,” he adds quickly.
I remind myself internally to not want expectations and commitments from him, but it’s of little use.
I’m considering something more right as he figures out he wants something casual. That sounds about right.
But I’m no fool. I’ll take what I can get.
I smile. “You’re hot as hell in bed, Spencer. Of course I want to do that again.” He relaxes into a satisfied smile, and my thoughts catch up to me. “Just so long as this works for you. I’m not okay with doing something that’s going to leave you hurt.”
“I promise that I’ll be responsible for myself,” he says firmly. “I thought about that this morning, too.”
“Early morning,” I say.
“I’m on East Coast time. I’ve already put in two hours of yoga and cleared out my email inbox.”
I take a bite of the omelet, savoring the cheesy, rich goodness, and try to reassure myself that this is right. Spencer is a grown man who knows what he’s capable of, and so am I.
I’ve got years of practice hardening myself off to my feelings. And I want Spencer to be happy. I want him to have a partner he can trust to enjoy his sexuality and really explore it. I’m lucky enough to be the guy he wants for that, so no way in hell I’m going to let him down.
Not to mention, holy shit, I haven’t fucked like that in a long time. Spencer is incredible. What kind of a dipshit would even look twice at someone else when I’ve got Spencer Wilchins all to myself?
When Spencer heads back to Boston, I immediately turn my attention to my music. This surge of emotions for Spencer consumes me, and my guitar is the only outlet as I stay up until sunrise night after night.
The music I write isn’t horrible. Some of it might even be good. But it comes out in convoluted, twisted songs. I write choruses with complicated chords and elaborate structures for no good reason, and they all turn in on themselves, knotting up. I spend endless hours alone, working my fingers raw and scrawling lyrics on scrap paper, lucky if I come out with a melody or a riff.
I’m not even soothed by the classic metal albums I leave on the stereo at home twenty-four hours a day for inspiration.
Every new song wants to be about Spencer, and whenever I put my instrument down, I instantly think about him again. His sincerity and good heart, his perfect smile that always feels like a reward.
