Morris went still, and a cold knot formed in Theo’s stomach. “Before we go any further… do I have a chance in hell with you? Like long-term, exclusive, me and you?” Because if he let himself fall in love any more, he didn’t think he’d be able to handle having someone else disappear out of his life. Maybe it wasn’t fair to lay that on him, but this was ground Theo had never crossed before.
“Can I talk now?” Morris demanded, his hands on his hips, and Theo nodded. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. “I’m saying I love you, you clueless, adorkable man, and maybe I might want to take this another step further if we can find the time together. I mean this—”
Morris loved him. The words hit Theo with stunning impact, and before Morris could get in another word, Theo latched on to him, lifted up on his toes, and kissed the breath right out of the both of them. When Theo finally released him, his knees were wobbly and Morris had a dazed look in his eyes. “I love you too.”
“Yeah?” Morris asked in a breathless voice.
“Yeah.” Theo kissed him again and then let Morris go with some reluctance. “I’m sorry I interrupted. You were about to say something else.”
“I was?” Morris looked so sexily befuddled that Theo was tempted to kiss him again to keep that look on his face. Theo’s heart was still beating a crazy rhythm from Morris’s words, and he wanted to hear them again.
Theo nodded solemnly, though he doubted his serious expression was reflected in his eyes. “You were.”
Morris held up his hands. “Fuck if I know. How’s a brother supposed to concentrate when you come at me with octopus arms and anaconda lips?”
“How am I supposed to resist when you’re standing there with your sexy knees exposed and you’re all agitated as you tell me what I’ve been dying to hear from you for freaking forever?” Theo grinned and clasped his hands around the nape of Morris’s neck to tug his head down. “Okay, time together. I can clear my schedule Sunday until it’s time for my shift. And you’ll be back from the show, right?”
“Late Saturday, I swear. I plan on a full day of relaxation on Sunday. My creative brain is short-circuiting, and I still have the show tomorrow.” Morris wiggled his fingers. “So no pencil and table for me.”
“Well then, I say we go crazy and spend the day….” Theo paused and thought for a few moments. He wanted to do something fun, but Morris’s plan of relaxation sounded really awesome.
“This is going to be a really sad suggestion, but instead of running around, looking for a perfect date, why don’t we just be us? We can fool around in bed. Maybe do something simple like going to the boardwalk and getting ice cream along the waterfront, nothing wild and over-the-top. No cooking for you and no drawing from me, and no answering work-related emails or calls.” Morris pursed his lips, then continued, “But answering calls from family is okay, unless they’re being annoying.”
“Fair deal.”
Morris glanced toward the house, then leaned forward. “Is Lincoln home?” he asked softly in Theo’s ear.
Theo chuckled in return as heat slid through him that had nothing to do with the summer. “Yeah, but I don’t see why that should stop us. We can be quiet, especially if we’re at your place.”
“Challenge accepted.” Morris took Theo’s hand and tugged him toward his kitchen door.
“You don’t have to pack for your trip tonight?” That’s what was keeping Lincoln thoroughly occupied. He wasn’t sure what geek shirt he wanted to wear for the con. A momentous decision to be sure.
“Finished at dawn.” A slow, wicked smile crossed Morris’s lush mouth. “I thought you might be interested in me keeping the kilt on for this go-round, since you mentioned it a few times.”
Morris did know how to tempt and tease a man. “There is that. I have had fantasies of you bent over your art table with your kilt rucked up.”
“Absolutely not. I need to work there, and I won’t be able to concentrate if I get horny every time I look at it.” Morris wagged a finger at him. “You behave yourself.”
Theo had zero intentions of behaving. He caught Morris’s finger and nipped the end. Morris’s eyes darkened. “You know, I’ve been craving a cigarette since our argument yesterday.”
“Your oral fixation is going to be the death of me,” Morris said as he fumbled for the door handle.
“Oh, but what a way to go.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
FELIPE ADJUSTED his high-crowned fedora and made sure his bullwhip was firmly attached to his belt. It was too damn hot to do anything crazy. Like that lady dressed up as a Khajiit from Elder Scrolls. He didn’t care if this con had good AC. Fuck that shit. Fur and clothes. If she made it through to the costume contest, Felipe would bow down to her perseverance. There were many things he’d do for a kickass costume, but roasting alive was not one of them.
He eyed her as she sauntered by. Damn, though, the matching tunic and boots were killer even if the prosthetics could’ve used a little more tweaking. She paused, then swiveled slowly to face Felipe. “Wrong costume there, Short Round.”
Felipe’s eyes narrowed. Abby Albion. He should’ve known. Bad enough she won at Brenden’s last show. She’d definitely place this round too. And if anybody was stubborn enough to last out the heat, it was her. “I haven’t done Short Round since elementary school, Duchess. I think I’ve earned the right to be Indy now. It’s certainly a lot more sensible than running around in that getup.”
“What you call sense, I call lack of creativity.” She gestured a paw toward his costume with a dismissive flick.
Felipe had to give it to her; she had the arrogant bearing of a cat down pat. There was a reason why he’d given her his particular pet name. But he was in too good of a mood to be irritated by her words. And he wasn’t the one who would be spending the entire day sweating. He’d been able to beg and swap his shift around so he could at least show his face at the con. Some might consider it crazy to drive all the way down to Newport News, only to turn back around and go home again, but he considered his Chessie Con crew family, and not getting to see them at all would’ve sucked royally. He would not let his childhood nemesis get under his skin. The Indiana Jones getup he’d put together was authentic from his battered hat to his scarred boots.
“Whatever, Duchess,” Felipe said with an airy wave of his hand in return, refusing to rise to her bait. That alone would annoy her. “You might want to invest in keeping some cold packs in a cooler and slipping them underneath your fur from time to time. I’d hate for my best rival to get heatstroke.”
“Wait, are you entering the contest?” Abby called after him as he turned away.
Felipe shrugged, then doffed his fedora with a little bow. “Maybe, maybe not. We’ll see.” He left her to puzzle out that exchange and headed toward Morris’s table. She was probably taking a second hard look at his costume, wondering if her prosthetics would outclass his authenticity and recognizability. Not everybody played Elder Scrolls, but Indy was loved for life. Felipe smirked. Imagining her sweating it almost made up for the fact he’d miss the contest.
He spied Lincoln bringing drinks to the VIP tables and shook his head. Poor kid was still running the same shit he did at the restaurant, though Felipe supposed serving was better than picking up. Morris was a goner. Only a man seriously in love would drag around his boyfriend’s brother to a show. Even if the brother was cool. Felipe would have to give Morris a hard time when his table wasn’t so busy.
The con was hopping, the tables laid out in a meandering line, following the layout of the hotel, and the aisles were crowded with families. Felipe had already made his circuit three times, pausing to take pictures when people stopped him. He always tried to make it a point to do it so he wasn’t blocking the vendors. Sometimes once he’d finish one shot, another person would ask, and the next thing he knew he’d been posing for a good twenty minutes. It was rude to do that in front of someone’s table while they were trying to work too.
It was simple co
n courtesy. One of those unspoken rules that seemed to be dying out in the last few years. Like not crowding someone’s table with your own stuff. Or freaking stealing someone else’s artwork, making prints of your own, and then trying to hawk that shit. Jackie had caught someone doing that to her a few weeks ago, and the confrontation had been epic. Some promoters were more sympathetic to that than others. Felipe wished that had happened at one of Brenden’s because he would’ve made the guy pack up and go. He might be a pain in the ass about rules, but Felipe couldn’t deny his sense of ethics.
He passed by Morris’s table once again, but Morris was deep in a conversation with Brenden, and Felipe didn’t feel like dealing with the promoter at the moment. His anger toward Brenden and Dakota had cooled, and he realized he didn’t miss Dakota all that much. The sex had been fun, but they never meshed that well outside of it. They made better friends than a couple. So maybe Brenden had been doing him a favor after all, but Felipe wasn’t ready to thank him.
Felipe turned the corner and grinned as the table for Old Dominion Magick Den caught his gaze. They were usually crowded midday, but for the moment there was only one customer, which meant Felipe could shop and flirt a bit. Two of his favorite things. Trask Briscoe sat cross-legged on a chair, the container from a food truck balanced on his lap as the other dude from the Den, Ryan, talked with the customer.
Trask wore a faded Sex Pistols T-shirt and rugged jeans that had seen better days. His arms were covered in tattoos in splashes of color and whorls of black. Most striking, his hair had gone almost completely silver even though he didn’t seem that old. Late thirties, early forties at the most. The man oozed sexiness, and he didn’t even realize it. Felipe decided it was his job to let him know, a public service.
“Catching a breather?” Felipe asked, stationing himself near the corner where Trask sat. Ryan shot him a warning look that Felipe ignored. He wasn’t in the way, and if the tables got swamped again, he’d duck out. This bullshit between cosplayers and vendors got out of hand sometimes.
Trask glanced up and wiped his mouth with a napkin. He had a silver beard too, just the right length, not overboard like some of the hipsters did. Trask’s dark eyes warmed as he smiled at Felipe. “Trying to. Seems like everyone decided to hit the con today instead of the beach.”
“The beaches get overcrowded this time of year. I’m not one to lay out and do nothing, and it’s no fun bodysurfing when you’re in danger of crashing into families playing in the waves.” Felipe cocked his head, trying to imagine Trask laid out on the beach, working on a tan. It didn’t quite fit. He could see him under an umbrella, with a book in one hand, a cold drink in the other, and a dog snoozing at his feet with a Frisbee between its paws.
“But you do go body surfing.” Trask’s gaze flicked over him, quick and appreciative, before meeting Felipe’s eyes again. Felipe had wondered at first if Trask was gay or not. He’d never heard of him dating among the other convention folk. He definitely wasn’t one to hang out and party, so it was difficult to get a read on him. But Felipe was slowly coming to recognize his signals. Trask never glanced at the female cosplayers other than with quick appreciation for a good costume, and if his gaze lingered on anyone, it was one of the guys. And Felipe had seen that admiring gaze in his direction a few times.
“Mostly in Ocean City at the start of the summer if I get the chance, or down in the Outer Banks for a long weekend after Labor Day. Sometimes I’ll hit up Virginia Beach, but it’s been crazy busy this summer. I haven’t had much of a chance.” Maybe his next day off, he’d drag Morris away from his art table long enough to go boating and hit the beach. The man needed to get out more and take his pasty boyfriend with him. Felipe wanted to get to know Theo a little better since he seemed as if he was going to be around for a while.
Felipe studied Trask, trying to nail down his attraction other than the fact the man was easy to look at. He was the exact opposite of Dakota, quiet instead of loud, confident, not brash. He definitely preferred the sidelines instead of being front and center. Everybody knew Dakota and Felipe had sometimes clashed over who would get the spotlight. Though, looking at him, Felipe didn’t think Trask ever let himself be a pushover.
“Ever been parasailing?” Trask asked, gesturing with his fork. “It’s a rush, and the views are amazing.”
Felipe could picture Trask doing that. Something a little off the cuff and different, a little thrilling. “Not yet. I’ve thought about it a few times when I’ve seen others out, but never got around to doing it myself.”
“You should.” That was all Trask said as he began eating again. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist, though he went along with one well enough. Felipe wasn’t sure if it was shyness or a natural reticence in him. At first, he’d thought Trask was socially awkward. There were plenty of vendors with the same quirk. Morris could be shy sometimes, but the more Felipe talked with Trask, the more he thought the gamer was just a chill dude, content to observe everything around him from the sidelines.
It massaged Felipe’s ego that he could get the guy to talk more. “So I was thinking, you GM, right? Run some of the role-playing games at your store?” Trask looked up with a nod. “I’ve caught your panels on gaming. I love it myself, been rolling the dice since fifth grade.”
Trask’s eyes gleamed with enthusiasm as he sat up straighter. “Do you run games too or stick to playing?”
“Stick to playing,” Felipe said with fervor. “I do not have the mentality to run a game. The first time players ruined my carefully constructed plans I’d probably smite them. I, however, do love to screw up the carefully laid plans of others.”
“So you’re one of those.” Trask shook his head, smiling slightly. “The players like you keep the game lively. You’ve got to plan for situations like that, because it always happens.”
“How do you handle them?” Felipe asked. He really wanted to see if Trask would mesh with his group, and not just because he wanted the chance to ogle him during games. He’d had gamemasters try to force the group to behave with contrived scenarios that felt out of place. There was one who had a complete meltdown whenever the story didn’t go the way he wanted it to. Felipe knew himself. That would be him all the way.
“You’ve got to be flexible and think fast. I like to go with the flow.” Trask paused, and a glint appeared in his eyes. The evil glint only a gamemaster got. “And my villains have their own agenda, apart from what the players are doing. Their timeline for mischief and wickedness does not change just because the players go off on a tangent. So if a player character gets too wrapped up in side missions they invent for themselves, they’re going to come face-to-face with reality real fast.”
“That is devious.” Felipe stared at Trask with grudging admiration. That was the type of shit that would land him into trouble. “I approve of your underhanded methods.”
“You live nearby?” Trask asked. “You could always pop into the Den for a game. We have a schedule online. Not that I run a game all that often anymore.”
That was the best opening Felipe was going to get. If Trask was like any other gamers, he knew he had to be missing rolling the dice. “You ever think of picking up a new permanent group? I have a group that’s looking for a good GM.”
“What happened to your last one?” Trask cocked his head. “You run him off with your shenanigans?”
“He was Army. Got sent overseas for a year. He thinks he’ll be restationed when he’s done.” Felipe missed Glen. He’d been a good dude, a little squirrely sometimes but a friend nonetheless. “We play with him online sometimes, but it’s not the same.”
“And no one in your group is interested in stepping in? Usually there’s one who wants to run their own game.”
“Jackie does a quick campaign sometimes but isn’t interested in doing anything with a long arc. So that’s cool for a pick-me-up every now and then. Morris overthinks and overworries. He wouldn’t have any fun doing it because he’d fret over every detail, and even tho
ugh it’s work, it ought to be fun for the GM too.” Felipe mentally ran down the rest of their group as Trask nodded. “Let’s see, Dakota and I would probably kill the entire party because we don’t have the right mentality. And… Brett and Daphne have zero interest. I think they consider raising a kid gamemastering enough.”
Trask closed up the rest of his food and tucked it out of the way as several people descended on the table. “Sounds to me like you know your group well. Good luck with finding someone, but I don’t think I’m looking for a group at this moment.”
At this moment. That left room for Felipe to discuss it again at the next con. And to get another eyeful, because damn, Trask and a pair of jeans and those rocker T-shirts made Felipe’s hormones hum.
“I’ll try to keep my disappointment to a minimum,” Felipe said with an airy sigh and a deliberate ogle of Trask’s ass. “And comfort myself by eyeing you with longing.” He grinned at Trask’s startled look and blew him a kiss. “See you around.”
That didn’t go too bad at all. Felipe glanced over his shoulder and sure enough, Trask was watching him saunter away, so Felipe added a touch more swagger. He’d planted the seed. Now it was time to sit back and let it take root. Trask didn’t seem like the kind of guy to rush into anything, whether it was a date or picking up a group to play with.
Felipe turned toward Morris’s table and saw his friend was free. Perfect. Now to gauge for himself how bad Morris had it for Theo. He should place a bet with their other friends. Felipe would lay down good money on the odds Morris would be shacking up with his chef by the time his lease ran out.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
A Little Side of Geek Page 27
