“Shit,” Emerson couldn’t help but whisper, even as the last throes were rattling through him. “Luca, that was so hot.”
Luca laughed into his mouth, a broken laugh interrupted by gasps.
“I know. Jesus, Emerson.”
Emerson finally let his head loll to the side, half on his pillow, half on Luca’s shoulder. He kissed Luca’s neck.
“Congratulations,” he said, and Luca’s quiet laughter died down. His arms wrapped around Emerson’s back, his fingers tracing sticky patterns around his skin.
“Thank you,” Luca said after a full minute. Emerson smiled, proud of him for accepting it.
“I should go wash my hands now,” Luca added after a moment. “And I don’t know, maybe burn this shirt.”
Emerson laughed, rubbing his forehead against Luca’s shoulder. The shirt had taken the brunt of their release, but?—
“Don’t,” he said. “It’s sexy as hell.”
“It’s barely holding itself together.”
“I know. That’s why it’s so sexy.”
“Sorry to tell you the buckets of cum it just collected might tip the balance of its structural integrity.”
Emerson laughed again. “Gross.”
“I know. Come on, let me take this thing off my body and wash my hands.”
“Will you come back?”
The question had tumbled off Emerson’s lips without thought. Only the silence that followed made Emerson realize it had sounded too needy. He pushed himself off of Luca’s chest, tumbling back onto the bed. Hoping he was performing being a super casual guy at least semi-well.
“I mean?—”
“I’ll bring you back a towel,” Luca answered, before leaving the room.
Emerson didn’t move the whole time Luca was gone. Justlaid there, in whatever weird position he’d collapsed into, half on his side, half on his back, staring at his dark room. Wondering what Luca had meant. If he was going to stay, or was just bringing back a towel.
Realizing he felt almost ridiculously happy, either way.
He had felt lighter, these last couple weeks. Even with the fate of the farm hanging over his head. Whatever this thing with Luca was, it had given him more energy. The wildflower field was almost ready, the simple dais he was building for Ben and Alexei almost done; the old barn was finally resembling a place he wouldn’t be embarrassed for strangers to walk into. He had more patience with Daisy, more brain space at the end of the day for planning out the next one, and the days after that. He felt?—
He hadn’t been able to explain exactly how he’d been feeling.
It was only then, somehow, in that moment. That he realized maybe it was just happiness.
Luca returned with a damp washcloth. He toweled down Emerson’s stomach, his dick, lifted a leg to wipe between his thighs. Pushed gently at Emerson’s shoulder so he’d lean forward a bit more and Luca could get to his back. Emerson went willingly, wherever Luca’s hands guided him, a ragdoll. It was kind, attempting to clean Emerson himself, when Luca could have easily just handed him the washcloth. It was kind, that Luca worked so damn hard on this farm for zero money. Or maybe it was only dumb of him, but Emerson was no longer going to question it.
Luca had called himbabe.
A small giggle escaped Emerson’s mouth. It was high pitched and weird, and Emerson was too tired and happy to care.
“What?” Luca asked, laughter in his own voice.
“Nothing,” Emerson said. And then, “Tickles.”
“Sorry.” Luca kissed his temple. “I should go.”
For the first time since Luca had entered his bedroom, Emerson frowned. But he didn’t object.
