Page 64 of Newly Tied

Yeah. I liked us together already.

Once I was clean, which I did in record time, I was back in his bathroom, both of us in towels, standing in front of the huge mirror over his sinks. It was quite evident that neither of us had gotten enough sleep. Perhaps we went to bed by four, I hadn’t checked, and four to ten was six hours, so it sounded like it should be enough, but we both needed more. So much more.

“We look terrible,” he told me. “I wish we had more time because I have eye patches that would fix our bags.”

I turned to him slowly.

“What?”

“The fuck is an eye patch?”

“You know, you put it under your eyes, and it plumps the skin and gets rid of the bags and smooths out the wrinkles.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna open your eyes to all kinds of things a man in his early thirties should already know.”

“This is like Kohn askin’ me what kind of moisturizer I use, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Exactly like that. Now turn this way.”

I did as directed, allowing him to slather my face with something, then dab under my eyes with something else, and then he pumped something into my hand.

“Put that all over your face and neck,” he said as he opened a tub of something and started smoothing that all over his body.

“You’re gonna be all slimy.”

“No, it’s going to absorb like everything you put on your face.”

And he was right. My face wasn’t sticky like I thought it would be.

“Why do I need all these different things?”

He sighed. “Listen, if you’re not down to⁠—”

“I didn’t say that,” I rushed out. “I only wanna know why.”

“Because I want you to take better care of yourself so you look and feel good for a really long time.”

“So you won’t be embarrassed of me.”

“No,” he said sharply, glaring at me. “I—this has more to do with your father than anything else.”

He lost me. “What?”

He leaned against the counter. “See, sometimes, when I think about it, about the abuse you suffered at the hands of that man, the urge to fly to your hometown and beat him senseless, leaving him passed out and bleeding in the street, becomes nearly overwhelming.”

“It does?” I was stunned.

He nodded.

“And I don’t know why,” he said, dropping his hands and quickly crossing his arms, “but for some reason, it usually happens in the morning when I pick you up or we meet for breakfast. I’ll notice you enjoying something, like really savoring it, and I’d think, look at him smile, he’s so beautiful…how could anyone ever even think about hurting him?”

I was about to reach for him when he took a breath.

“Then we’ll go outside and I’d think, I’m sure that piece-of-shit father of his never told him to put on sunscreen. Never mind that it helps keep your skin young, not like leather, but more importantly, it protects you from getting cancer.”

“You think about all that?”