Hollis reaches out and catches a tear that spills down my cheek. “I think you need someone to talk to, someone who can maybe help you in ways none of us can. You’re young still, Roman. Too young for the shit you’ve been going through. Just try.”
“I will if you will.”
He grimaces. “I walked into that one, didn’t I?”
I laugh a little. “Yep.”
“We’ll try, together. For each other, our loves, and ourselves.”
“Okay.”
Sitting up, I reach for Hollis, grabbing him by the hair and dragging his mouth to mine. He lets me kiss him, soft and sweet at first, and then deeper, harder. Our love for each other hasn’t wavered, not once in all these months. Even when our lives seemed to take us in different directions, this has always been right there, waiting for us to have the breathing room to pick it back up.
I sigh and give in, letting him take over the kiss. I can’t wait until the fucking bastard of a Senator is dead so I can have this every day, with every single one of my lovers. Until then, I’ll enjoy being in whoever’s arms are available at the time, and trust I am loved…even when I know I don’t deserve it.
Isigh as I slide into the generic black SUV being driven by a guard. Soren is seated in the backseat with me. I shake my head, because seriously, have these people not heard of style? I’d much rather be driving my own car that actually has flair, but unfortunately, Soren insisted we follow orders.
At least today, I made sure to increase the flair in my personal style. Although, for some reason, Soren raised an eyebrow at it. The khakis are rather muted, perhaps that’s why he’s surprised. I think I made up for it with my rainbow-colored button down—conceding to the professionalism vibes—and pink suspenders. I even managed to put a blue bow tie on, so I can truly give off the “I know what I’m doing” look. I stopped short of putting on a blazer, because I do have some sanity after all.
“We’ll need to stop and get a coffee for Anderson. Preferably, the sugar-laden kind.”
Soren stares at me suspiciously, as if he's wondering how I’d know Anderson’s preferred coffee order. However, I always make time to research. And learning that his Daddy restricts him to a certain amount and type of coffee? Horrifying.
“Hopefully, he’ll be willing to hear us out.”
Wrinkling my nose, I grunt in agreement. “I still would have preferred to go to Ian directly. I mean, wouldn’t it make sense to talk to him Daddy to Daddy?”
“Considering Ian is…interesting, I’d rather try Anderson first. I’m hoping to appeal to the fact that there's another Boy in need.”
“Interesting is one word for it,” I mutter. Still, I’d prefer to face Ian head on. “You do realize that when Ian finds out we went around him, directly to Anderson, he is not going to be happy, right?”
Soren cringes, but can’t disagree. “We’ll deal with that when we have to. For now, let’s just get Anderson on board.”
“Eh, I suppose I should just prepare for more flirting.”
Soren cocks his head, staring hard at me. “You do realize that when people threaten to stab you, or kill you, that’s not them flirting, right?”
“Hey, I don’t yuk your yum. You shouldn’t kink shame.” I huff, unable to believe the judgment rolling off him.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he does seem speechless. I’m rather proud of that. Until he shakes my entire being when he straightens and stares directly at me. “Considering I know you have a crush on my Boy, I would hope you’d refrain from putting him at risk.”
I blush, hating it. “Ah, you could tell that, huh?”
He snorts, amusement flashing across his face. “I’m not as oblivious as Doc.”
Unable to deny it, I shrug. “I have since college. He’s completely devoted to you, and I recognize that. It’s just sex. I…have always wanted him.”
“I can’t blame you for that.” Soren laughs, and I have a moment of hope, but I refuse to ask for permission. That’s not who I am. Even if I desperately want to sink myself into Doc, to taste what I'm being denied.
First crushes are hard, and I was a late bloomer—mainly due to circumstances. Still, the prickly man has always done it for me. I keep waiting for it to pass, and infuriatingly, it hasn’t.
Thankfully, the SUV slows to a stop, and I don't hesitate to hop out, ignoring the guard who wants me to wait for him. Fuck that. I head straight for the coffee shop that's next door to the office building where Anderson has his practice. Soren is close on my heels, grumbling about something. Likely the guard situation, but I ignore him the best I can.
After ordering a ridiculous latte for Anderson, I turn to Soren, in case he’d like something. He shakes his head, a slightly horrified look on his face. It dawns on me that he’s a tea drinker—and probably a snobby one at that. Trying not to judge—and failing—I turn back to face the barista and order my own coffee. Black. Like my soul. I’ll leave the sweetness to Anderson; he’s certainly known for being sweeter than me, not that it takes much for that to be true.
It’s only a few minutes wait before our coffees are ready, and then Soren guides me toward Anderson’s private practice. We take the elevators to get there, and I’ll admit to being somewhat impressed. I like the fact he’s in a practice with a psychiatrist. It means he’ll be used to having one of us around. Yet, given the way the practice drips money, I have a sinking feeling this isn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped it would be.
Giving the receptionist my name, I sit down next to Soren and wait. Like most medical offices, he’s running behind, butI can’t begrudge it, not when he’s helping people. Still, the longer I’m here, the more uncomfortable it is for me. It’s all forced patience, the thin sheen of desperation clinging to people. The hopes and all too often the disappointments. I understand Tennant’s issues with the field very well, at least when it comes to him directly.
