by Alexa Land
I picked up a teaspoon and reached for his cup, but he shielded it with his hand and exclaimed, “No! They’re too pretty!”
“They won’t last anyway, so you might as well enjoy your drink.”
He frowned at that. But then he took one last look at the cup, covered his eyes, and held it out to me as he joked, “Be quick about it, make sure they don’t suffer.” I grinned and swirled the spoon in his latte. The koi disappeared instantly. When he finally took a sip, he said, “It was totally worth ganking those wee bastards. This is fantastic! Promise me you’ll come over every morning and make me a cuppa.”
“Or I could just show you how to use your machine.”
He shook his head and smiled flirtatiously. “Not nearly as good as a big, sexy, mostly naked man in my kitchen, making it for me.”
I smiled and pulled him to me by the front of his towel. Alastair drained his cup and put it on the counter, then slid his hands around my waist. He kissed me almost shyly, then said, “I promised to feed you. Some host I’ve turned out to be,” before turning and picking up a loaf of bread.
The sandwich he made for me was enormous and delicious. We sat on the kitchen counter as we ate, and kept the conversation light. When we finished our meal, I put my plate in the sink and helped him clean up, and then I said, “Well, I guess I should go. It’s late.”
He studied the counter and murmured, “But your motorbike is back at Trevor’s house, and it just seems like a hassle, trudging all that way in the dark and cold….”
I grinned and took his hand. “If you want me to stay, just ask.”
He glanced up at me and said, “I’d love it if you spent the night.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do.”
We returned to the bedroom and discarded our towels before climbing under the covers. It was pure heaven, between Alastair’s smooth, naked body in my arms, the ridiculously fluffy duvet, and the pillowy thing on top of his mattress. He brushed his lips to mine, and I pulled him on top of me and returned the kiss as I ran my hands down his back. God, he felt good.
Eventually, he fell asleep in my arms, and I shifted around so I could see Alastair’s face. It occurred to me that I clearly didn’t have a type, because he couldn’t have been more different than big, loud, dead-serious Tracy. It was like comparing a sports car to a tank.
The entire night, every minute with Alastair, had been a revelation. It was tender and effortless and intimate, words I never could have applied to my…what exactly? Tracy never called himself my boyfriend, or referred to what we had as a relationship. But it was. It may have been one-sided, but I’d loved him, and that made it real, no matter what we called it.
It had been nearly a year since I’d left the Army and Tracy. It still hurt whenever I thought about my ex. I wondered if the pain had become a permanent part of me. But why the hell was I thinking about that now?
I focused on Alastair, and after a moment, I grinned. I remembered thinking he’d look great after I mussed him up a bit, and I’d been right. He was sexier than ever with his tousled hair and the color I’d brought to his cheeks.
In fact, he was absolutely beautiful. But he was so much more than that, too. He was kind, and smart, and fascinating. Someone could spend a lifetime discovering all that went on behind those captivating blue eyes.
But that someone wasn’t me. This was just a fling, and Alastair was leaving in a few months. Maybe that was okay. Nothing could have come of it anyway, even if the circumstances had been different.
Someone like him just didn’t need a guy like me. I was…well, just fine if all you wanted was a warm body and a stiff cock and maybe a bit of companionship. But I didn’t have anything to offer him beyond that.
I’d gladly share his bed as long as he asked me to, but I’d have to avoid getting attached to him. So much of life was one big lesson in letting go. This would be, too.
Chapter Three
I awoke slowly. The bed was warm and comfortable, but something was definitely missing. I raised an eyelid and spotted that missing piece sitting in a chair by the window with his feet tucked under him.
Alastair was writing in his journal. He wore a pair of glasses with tortoiseshell frames and a long, unbuttoned, pale blue cardigan over a pair of skimpy white briefs. The morning light bathed him in a golden glow and made him look angelic. I murmured, “God, you’re cute in the morning,” and sat up and scratched my stubbly cheek. I always woke up looking like Sasquatch.
“I didn’t know you were awake,” he exclaimed as he pulled off the glasses and put them with his pen and journal on the windowsill.
“I’m not. I’m basically a reanimated corpse until I’ve had coffee.” I tossed the covers aside and grinned as he fumbled for his glasses and quickly shoved them back into place, possibly because I was buck naked.
“Can you stay for breakfast? I baked you something,” he called after me as I headed to the bathroom.
“Love to. I hope you didn’t go through too much trouble, though.”
“No trouble at all.” After I used the facilities and some of his mouthwash, I returned to the bedroom and found him kneeling on the mattress with a white shopping bag on his lap. “I bought you a present,” he said, and handed me the package with a hopeful expression.
“When did you have time to do that?”
“This morning. I always take a walk first thing and spotted this in the window of an import store. It took some convincing, but I got the shop owner to open early so I could buy it for you. I hope you like it.”
He chewed his lower lip as I slid a silk kimono out of the bag. It was pale blue and printed with a white, graceful pattern of koi and water. I murmured, “Oh wow,” as I ran my hand over the delicate fabric, and then I grinned at him. “It’s the coffee koi, in a more permanent form.” It was something else, too, a subtle nod to that other side of me, just a bit feminine without being frilly.
“Exactly! I thought about getting you a black robe, based on what you were wearing yesterday, but this one made me think of you. If you don’t like it, I can take it back and exchange it.”
“It’s perfect, thank you. No one’s ever given me anything like this.”
He looked anxious. “Try it on. I hope it’s big enough.”
I pulled it on, and as I tied the sash, I said, “It fits like it was made for me. The fabric feels fantastic, too.”
Alastair got up and ran his hand down my arm. “It does.” He snuggled close to me for a few seconds and rubbed his cheek against my shoulder. But then he looked embarrassed and stepped back from me as he said, “Excuse me for a moment, I’m going to put in my contacts.”
“Sure, but you look great in your glasses.”
He called as he headed to the bathroom, “No I don’t. They make me look like a twelve-year-old, and also a nerd. While the latter is entirely accurate, I choose not to advertise it.”
I lingered in the bedroom at first, waiting for him to come back. But then I decided to do something constructive, so I popped my head through the open bathroom door and said, “I’m going to make us some coffee. And for the record, I think men in glasses are completely sexy.” I flashed him a smile, and he knit his brows at me. One of his index fingers was pointed straight up, with a contact balanced on its tip.
“People always say that, but they never mean it.”
“Where did you put your glasses?” He took them from the pocket of his cardigan and handed them to me, and I put them on and said, “Jesus, this is a strong prescription.” Then I looked at him, or more specifically, the smear of color visible through the lenses, and said, “Try to be objective. How do they look?”
He popped in his contact (I was glad I couldn’t watch that, because anything eye-related made me flinch), then murmured, “Blimey. Well, if I was a gorgeous, six-foot-four, muscular god like you, then the glasses would look amazing. But I’m me, so it’s primary school science fair all the way.”
I took the glasses off and put them on the vanity
as I said, “They’re sexy no matter what you say. So’s your outfit. I love the fact that you came home from your walk and ended up in nothing but tiny briefs and a sweater.”
He looked down at himself and smiled self-consciously. “I started to get dressed after I took a shower, but only got as far as the knickers before something distracted me. Later on, I added the cardigan when I got cold. I’m a bit absent-minded, you’ll find.”
“That’s not a bad thing.”
“Except for the part where I lose my phone about once a month and have to get a new one.” He shook his head. “Pathetic.”
“You’re working on a PhD in astrophysics. In other words, you’re literally a rocket scientist. So what if you can’t keep track of your phone? It’s probably just because you have much more important things on your mind.”
He said, “Thanks for giving me the benefit of the doubt,” before leading the way to the kitchen.
When we got there, I stopped short and exclaimed, “I never realized I was such a sound sleeper! I obviously missed a major earthquake.” The room was completely trashed.
“Like I said, I tried to bake for you. Mistakes were made.” He grinned embarrassedly as he held up a plate of blueberry-studded hockey pucks.
“Are those pancakes?”
“Muffins. I thought I didn’t need a recipe, because they seemed simple enough. Bit of flour, an egg, some butter and sugar, and Bob’s your uncle. Suppose it goes without saying that I don’t bake a great deal.”
I selected one and took a bite. It was on the solid side, but it tasted good, and I said, “I love it, thank you. It was nice of you to bake something.”
“It was a complete cock-up.”
“You tried. That’s what counts.” I finished the muffin in three bites, then turned my attention to the espresso maker. He pushed aside some of the stuff on the counter and brought me the milk, then watched closely as I made our drinks. I went a bit simpler than the night before, drizzling in the milk in a controlled stream, then drawing it across the top of the espresso. When I handed the cup to him, he beamed at me. The pattern looked like a heart-shaped flower with a stem and a couple leaves. In other words, it was pretty basic, but I’d learned early on that people didn’t want to wait around while you got fancy with their first cup of the day.
“I could get used to this, a world-class barista in my kitchen.” He blew on the surface, then took a sip and said, “It’s outstanding. Thank you, Sawyer.”
“You’re welcome. It’s nice to get to use such a great machine.”
“What do you have at home?”
“My dad has a Mr. Coffee,” I said with a grin. “If I’m feeling fancy, I have a little stovetop Bialetti I can use to make espresso.”
“How is it, living at home?”
“Awkward.”
“Does your father know you’re gay?”
“Kind of.”
He tilted his head and echoed, “Kind of?”
I leaned against the counter and took a sip from my cup before saying, “You don’t actually want to hear this story, do you?”
“Oh, I do.”
“Alright. Well, one day, when I was fifteen, I was sitting at the kitchen table, studying with this boy from school. We’d been flirting for weeks, and I finally got up the nerve and leaned over and kissed him. Right at that moment, my dad came into the kitchen. Just my luck. My first kiss, and in walks Dad.”
After taking another drink, I continued, “I expected him to flip out, but Dad just went completely still. The kid grabbed his books and ran out the door like he’d been caught committing murder. There was this long pause, and then all my dad said was, in this low, menacing growl, ‘I’m gonna pretend I didn’t see that.’ I know it doesn’t sound like much, but the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes was frightening. It was compounded by the fact that my dad’s this huge, intimidating guy, and like I said before, I was tiny until the end of high school. Usually, he loses his temper at the drop of a hat. If he’d flipped out and screamed and yelled like I’d expected, I think I would have pushed back. I might’ve flaunted the fact that I was gay, just to spite him. But that other thing, that calm, quiet threat, of what I could only imagine, just completely unnerved me.” I shook my head and said, “It sounds stupid when I try to explain it, but I was so rattled that I actually apologized and swore I’d never do it again. That was the last time we spoke of it.”
Alastair said softly, “I’m sorry he did that to you.”
After a pause, I said, “I always wonder, does he believe I was literally scared straight that day? And I keep thinking, how ironic that my ex would have this completely unisex name, because my dad’s seen me shirtless since I’ve been back, he’s seen my tattoo. If it said ‘Harold’ or ‘Steve’ then my dad would have to say something, right? He’d probably feel like I was challenging him with a blatant display like that, and we’d finally have it out. But instead, it says ‘Tracy’, so the truth stays in the shadows. I mean, obviously I could talk to him about it, but I just…don’t.”
“It must be awful living with someone like that.”
I drained my cup, then said, “Aside from the great, big, rainbow-colored elephant in the room, my dad and I get along okay, I guess. By that, I mean we don’t fight or anything. Not that we pal around, either. We just kind of co-exist. He was completely pissed off when I didn’t re-enlist at the end of my commitment, but he’s calmed down about it over the last few months. That’s probably because he’s convinced I’ll go back, whenever I get over this rebellious phase he thinks I’m going through.” I sighed and reached for another muffin.
“You don’t have to eat that,” he said as I packed half of it in my mouth. “I know you’re just being nice.”
I ate the rest of it, then told him, “They’re good, kind of like pound cake with blueberries.”
When I ate a third, he actually hugged me and kissed my cheek. Then he started to clean up the mess he’d made. After a minute, he asked, “You won’t, will you? Re-enlist, I mean.”
“No chance. I did my time, including two tours in Afghanistan. My dad will just have to get used to the fact that I’m a huge fucking disappointment.”
Alastair stopped what he was doing and said, “I didn’t realize you’d been sent overseas. Were you an infantryman?”
I shook my head. “I worked in the motor pool. Not a bad job most days, except….”
“Except for what?”
I turned from him and rinsed my cup in the sink, then began wiping down the espresso machine as I said, “Except for that time when it was my job to clean the blood out of one of the vehicles. That day wasn’t so good. Way worse for my buddy who took that stray bullet and bled out in the back of a Jeep, though.” I took a deep breath and tried to force myself not to remember, focusing instead on making the machine shine.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,” Alastair said in a whisper.
“I shouldn’t have brought it up. I don’t know why I did.”
“Maybe because you needed to talk about it.”
I changed the subject by saying, “Let me help you clean up, and then I’ll get out of your way. I’m sure you have things to do today.”
“I want to check on Rollie, he probably has one hell of a hangover. But don’t help with the kitchen. It’s my mess, I’ll deal with it.”
I began gathering cooking implements and piling them in the sink. “It’ll go a lot faster with two of us.”
I was right. After ten minutes spent loading the dishwasher, putting away ingredients and wiping down the counters, it was as if the Alastair earthquake had never happened. I hung up the dish towel, and then we headed to the bedroom to get dressed.
We were a little uncertain around each other. What was proper morning-after etiquette, anyway? Clearly, neither of us had any idea, so we didn’t try to initiate anything, even though I would have loved to pull him back into that bed.
I pulled on my jeans and shirt, then rolled the corset tight
ly and stuck it in a deep pocket inside my leather jacket. The stockings, garters and thong were stashed in another pocket. It was time to get back to reality.
After I was fully dressed and the silk robe was packed in its bag and tucked under my arm, I turned to Alastair. He’d put on a white, button-down shirt and a sleek leather jacket, along with dark jeans that accentuated his perfect ass and a pair of expensive loafers. He looked effortlessly gorgeous, like he’d stepped out of a magazine. Meanwhile, there I was, in my rumpled clothes from the day before. “I’ll walk you out,” he said, firing off a quick text before slipping the phone in his pocket. “I’m going to drag Rollie out of bed, so Trevor and his family can get on with their Sunday.”
We were quiet on the short walk back to where our night had begun. When we reached my motorcycle, I said, “Thanks again for the present.”
“I hope I didn’t overstep. I just…wanted you to have it.”
“It was nice of you.”
He looked up at me as we both hesitated for a long moment. The city was waking up around us, and a few people passed by on the sidewalk. I cursed myself for not kissing him goodbye when we were back in the apartment, while we still had privacy. What a missed opportunity. I glanced longingly at his full, inviting lips, and thought—
Alastair pulled me to him and kissed me passionately. I was shocked at first that he’d be so open about it, but then I stopped thinking and sank into it. If any of the passersby had something to say about two guys making out on the sidewalk, it was totally lost on me, because all my attention was riveted on Alastair and that kiss.
After a while, I rested my forehead against his and we both caught our breath. He clutched the front of my jacket, while I ran my hand around the back of his neck. “I was going to play it cool,” he said. “Just like, ‘call me, or whatever.’ But I’m about to blow that straight to hell by telling you last night was the best of my life, hands down. Not just because I finally lost my virginity, although halleluiah to that! You were so patient, and kind, and I felt wonderful with you. So, thank you, Sawyer. I’ll never forget it.”
