by Elouise East
Grant’s legs came up to cradle Emerson’s hips, making their cocks align better. He dragged his mouth away from Emerson’s with a gasp, air finally entering his deprived lungs. Emerson kissed along his jaw and down his neck, licking where it met with his shoulder before retracing his path.
“Top off, now!” Emerson rasped in his ear. Grant agreed heartily. He allowed Emerson to move away, lifting his arms to take it off, then grabbed Emerson’s t-shirt before he could lay back down and did the same.
They groaned in unison when their bare skin met, their kiss becoming frantic as if someone had lit a match. Their hips thrust against one another; their cocks hard but still covered by jeans, Grant’s precome leaking like a fountain. He slid his hand down Emerson’s back and under the waistband of his jeans, gasping when he found no other barrier, enticing Grant to cup and squeeze Emerson’s ass. Grant moved his other hand to the front, twisting at the button to release Emerson’s erection from its confines.
Emerson groaned into his mouth, before tearing it away and resting his forehead against Grant’s shoulder. “Fuck, Grant. Touch me, please!” He punctuated his words with a thrust of his hips, and Grant couldn’t do anything except obey. Grant circled Emerson’s hard-on, fingers unable to meet, and Emerson thrust his hips again, moaning loudly when his cock slid through Grant’s hold. “I need to touch you,” Emerson rasped, blindly grabbing at Grant’s jeans and opening them with frantic fingers.
Grant pushed his head back into the cushion below when Emerson began to stroke his cock, moaning with the pleasure streaming through his system. “Holy fuck, Em!”
Emerson reached forward and joined their lips together again, kisses frantic and sloppy this time. They stroked each other, breaths mingling in between their snatched kisses, hips thrusting.
“God, I’m close, Emerson! I’m so close!” Grant could feel his balls tightening. “Come with me!”
“Fuck! I’m almost there!” Emerson thrust faster, and Grant added a little twist to his stroking. “Shit! Yes!”
“I’m coming! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Grant’s muscles seized as his orgasm ripped through him. It required all his effort to keep his eyes on Emerson’s face, and he saw more than felt Emerson join him; the expression of almost relief crossing Emerson’s face before pure peace descended. Emerson’s forehead rested on Grant’s chest, their breath calming, and in spite of their come becoming cold and sticky, Grant didn’t want to move.
Emerson lifted his head to look at Grant. “What a way to spend an afternoon.”
Grant started laughing. “Get up, idiot.”
Emerson smiled as they disentangled themselves.
“Shower’s this way,” Grant said, thumbing over his shoulder.
They spent their time in the shower, soaping each other, washing their hair and bringing each other to another climax. Grant was happy but worn out. They got out, and as they dried off, Grant heard a knock at the door.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” Grant wrapped the towel around his waist before padding to the door. Opening it, he saw Adam. “Hey. Everything okay?”
Adam nodded. “Yeah, just wondered if you fancied catching a film or something tonight? I’m…” he trailed off, distracted by something behind Grant.
Grant peered over his shoulder, seeing Emerson standing by his bedroom door, towel around his waist, hair wet, looking divine.
Adam cleared his throat. “Never mind,” he said with a smile. “I see you’re busy.”
Grant closed his eyes, feeling his cheeks colour. Glancing at Adam, he introduced them. “Adam, this is Emerson. Emerson, Adam.”
Emerson advanced, hand outstretched. “Nice to meet you. Grant’s mentioned you.”
“Yes, you too. Are you coming for Thanksgiving?” Adam asked, taking his hand back.
“Um…Thanksgiving?” Emerson asked.
Adam glanced at Grant, and Grant winced. “I hadn’t got around to asking you. Adam’s parents asked me to invite you to Thanksgiving dinner.” Grant turned to face Emerson. He did want Emerson to come but didn’t want him to feel obliged to come.
“Um, let me check, and I’ll let Grant know later.” Emerson spoke to Adam.
“Sure, no problem. Anyway, I’ll leave you to the rest of your day. See you later.” Adam stalked back towards the main house.
Grant closed the door and whirled to face Emerson, wringing his hands. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot to ask you, and then I didn’t want you to feel like you had to come purely because I’d asked, and then everything with your father today, I didn’t want you to feel like I asked because I didn’t think you have any plans and—”
“Grant!” Emerson cupped his shoulders. “I’d love to come. But only if you want me there. I didn’t say yes to Adam because I wanted to check with you first. If you would like me to be there, I will be there.”
He studied Emerson’s face and saw the truth. He smiled. “I’d love you to come.”
“Sorted. I’ll be here.” Emerson kissed him before turning away. “Now, let’s decide on a film.”
“Don’t you want to get dressed first?” Grant asked in bemusement.
“What’s the point? Doubt we’re finished, are we?” Emerson answered, waggling his eyebrows up and down and smirking.
Grant snorted and joined him on the couch.
They watched a couple of movies in between fooling around more, remembered to make some food for dinner. They’d both dressed, and Emerson left for home, leaving the place feeling empty. Grant cleared up the dishes he’d told Emerson to leave for him to do before heading for the table. He tried to get some more work done, at least it was easier than when they had attempted to study together. Grant smiled at the memory. They had taken their assignments to an internet café to study, but they got too involved in asking questions about each other’s areas of expertise and managed to get nothing done at all. They decided it was a bad idea to study together again. Maybe once they’d been together for a while, they might have less to discuss.
Grant paused. His plans for the future were beginning to contain Emerson already. He didn’t want to hope, but in the same breath, he wanted to hope with everything he had in him.
The quicker he got this assignment finished, the more time he’d have to spend with Emerson.
Chapter 8
Emerson
Emerson had planned to fork out the extra cash to have a taxi take him to Grant’s house for Thanksgiving dinner, but in the end, decided to take the train and spend the money to buy a bottle of wine and some flowers to take with him. He hadn’t wanted to arrive empty-handed.
Walking the short distance from the train to the house, Emerson was nervous, mainly because Grant thought highly of Adam’s parents, and Emerson didn’t want to disappoint.
He was eager to see Grant as they hadn’t seen each other since he was last here, although they had messaged many times.
He lifted his hand to knock, but the door opened before he had a chance.
“Hey, Emerson. Come in.” Adam opened the door wider. “I saw you walking up the drive.”
“Hi. Thanks. It saved my knuckles some.” Emerson rolled his eyes as he shut the door behind him. He needed to stop trying to be funny.
Adam laughed. “That it did. Let me take your coat.” Emerson juggled his gifts and removed his coat, handing it to Adam, who hung it up on an old-style wooden coat and hat stand, similar to one he remembered from his home in England. “Come on through. Mom’s adding the finishing touches.” He strode away, and Emerson followed to the kitchen.
“You must be Emerson! Nice to meet you. Grant has told us so much about you.” Adam’s mother pulled Emerson in for a hug. He returned it awkwardly, aware he was still holding his gifts.
As he pulled back, he presented them to her. “Just something small…”
“Oh, how lovely. Thank you, dear. I’ll put these in some water.” Mrs Sundberg retraced her steps, nose buried in the bouquet.
Emerson surveyed the large kitchen area,
seeing remnants of cooking over some of the worktops. A nudge to his side had him glancing back at Adam.
“This way. I bet Grant is chomping at the bit to see you. Dad kept him occupied so Mom could grab you first.” Adam shook his head, smiling, and headed to a door on their left. Emerson followed, noticing voices as they went.
“—they expect people to understand the convoluted filing system of the libraries. I’ve been there and haven’t a clue what I’m doing when I’m given a list of different numbers. Why they can’t—”
“It’s because they want you to ask the librarians, Dad. It keeps them busy,” Adam interrupted his father with a chuckle. “Look who I found.”
Grant jumped up from his relaxed position on the chair to Mr Sundberg’s left and rushed around the table towards him. Emerson got ready to catch him because it seemed like he would barrel straight into him, but Grant stopped himself.
“Hey, you,” he said, beaming.
Emerson smiled back. “Hi. Deep discussion?” he whispered.
Grant bit his lip and glanced back to Mr Sundberg. “I was trying to explain the system we use to decide where the books are located.” He reddened further as he glanced at Emerson. “Probably not very interesting…”
“Don’t be silly, Grant! It is interesting to understand how it works. I can’t get my head around it, that’s all,” Mr Sundberg chortled as he stood. “I’ll just go see if Emmaline needs any help. You boys make yourselves comfortable,” he added, patting Adam on the shoulder as he passed.
“Come sit.” Grant pulled on his sleeve and guiding him around the table to a chair next to where he had been sitting when Emerson arrived.
Emerson sat, taking in more details of the room around him. The walls were covered with picture frames marking the passing of the years. He saw a baby, who he assumed was Adam. Next, he saw Adam in his school uniform, in a group photo of a swimming team and many more. Emerson had never seen anything like it before. His childhood home had hardly any photos at all, maybe the odd one that had been gifted to them, but no others. His New York home, before he’d left, had no pictures at all, especially none of him. In fact, he could remember no personal effects at all.
He startled when a warm hand pressed on top of his. He saw Grant studying him, frowning a little.
“Everything okay?”
It was then Emerson noticed Adam had left the room. He cleared his throat and smiled back at Grant. “Yeah. I was thinking about how homey this place feels.”
He was saved from making more conversation by Mr and Mrs Sundberg entering the room carrying dishes full of aromatic food. They set them down, and Adam came in bearing more. Emerson gaped at the amount of food.
“Don’t worry yourself, Emerson. Whatever is left is given to the homeless shelter for people who need it. Emmaline always makes more than is needed so she can help them out on days like this,” Mr Sundberg smiled proudly at his wife.
With those words, Emerson had to take a deep breath, pulled into the past.
“Dad? Can we give these homeless people some food? Or some money so they can buy—” Nine-year-old Emerson watched the people huddle closer together in a shop doorway.
His father slashed a hand in front of his face, bellowing, “You don’t feed the homeless, Emerson. They need to find themselves a job and work for money, rather than it being handed to them.”
Emerson watched some of the people turn their heads away from them, and others looked at them in anger. He mouthed, “I’m sorry,” and hurried after his father.
Since that outburst, he had never mentioned it again. The Sundberg’s were a galaxy away from the type of people his father was.
“Help yourself, Emerson. We don’t stand on ceremony here,” Mrs Sundberg remarked.
“Thank you, Mrs Sundberg,” he replied, shaking himself from his melancholy.
“Oh, no, please, call me Emmaline. Mrs Sundberg makes me feel old. And call him Theo.” She chuckled, as did Theo and Adam.
“Thank you, Emmaline.”
“Much better. Now, Grant here tells us you are studying for a master’s degree as well? What are you studying?” Emerson watched as Emmaline spooned some potatoes onto her plate and passed it to Theo, receiving a bowl of vegetables from Adam. Emerson startled a bit when a bowl was placed almost under his nose, and he peered at Grant, who smiled gently.
“Thanks.” Emerson brought himself back to the conversation. “Um, yes, I am. I’m studying speech pathology.”
“What is that? Please excuse my ignorance,” Emmaline said.
“No, it’s fine. You might recognise it better by its description rather than the name. It’s to do with issues with speech. Things like stutters, lisps, if someone has a cleft palate or dyspraxia. People with Autism and Asperger’s may require a speech pathologist, too.”
“Sounds rewarding. Why did you decide to go into this field?” Emmaline asked.
Emerson paused. He wasn’t going to hide who he was, but it was never easy to admit you had a weakness—which was how he described his stutter. “I developed a stutter from an early age. I didn’t receive any help when I was in England, and when I moved here, my middle school English teacher helped me. I became a teacher to give something back, but something was missing. Then speech pathology came up, and it felt right. So, that’s where I am.”
“It’s a good place to be, Emerson. You need to experience excitement about what you do; otherwise, there’s no point.” Theo nodded towards Adam. “It’s the same with Adam. He went to university on a swimming scholarship, but he wanted to do photography. In the end, he combined both. Didn’t you, son?”
Adam nodded. “Yeah, I never wanted to pursue swimming at an Olympic level or anything, but it gave me the opportunity to study something I wanted.”
“I’m still teaching, although I’m currently taking a few weeks off. But it’s paying for the degree, and that’s how I think about it.”
“Everyone has to compromise sometimes,” Emmaline commented.
They caught up on each other’s work-life while they ate their lunch until it came back around to the shelter Theo mentioned earlier.
“You spoke about a shelter you help out at? What do they do there?” Emerson asked.
“Well, it has beds for the homeless, but certainly not enough to go around. They serve an evening meal for anyone who can get to them.” Emmaline appeared pensive. “I wish there was more we could do, but…”
“Now, now, Emmaline. We are helping. We’re helping the best way we can. Providing food, volunteering and giving money. We can’t do more.” Theo’s words were soft and sounded like they had been spoken many times in the past.
“I know. It’s just not easy,” Emmaline replied. She glanced back at Emerson, a small pained smile on her face. “There is also a youth centre attached to the shelter. The kids go there for a safe place to be when they can’t be at home.” She sighed. “I love helping out there, but it’s heart-breaking to see the kids—and adults—like that.”
“Don’t forget, Mom, you’ve arranged for people to go in and show them different jobs and teach them new skills,” Adam interjected. “I’ve been in to talk to them about photography. Some of the kids there show potential. I’m actually going back to help them some more while I’m here.”
“Maybe I could ask the library about a donation of books or textbooks, or something? I’ll obviously have to run it past the manager, but there might be something we could do to help.”
“That would be lovely, Grant, thank you.”
“I don’t know why I didn’t think about it before. I know you go to the shelter. It never occurred to me, though.” Grant frowned.
“It’s alright, Grant. We are allowed to get caught up in our own lives,” Theo said. “Nobody has to help if they can’t. There are many people who can, though.”
Emerson stared at his plate, pushing the food around. It had been delicious: turkey, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, cranberry sauce and more. But he was distracted now. He
was too busy thinking about what they discussed and what he could do to help. Listening with one ear to the conversation around him, he finished some of the food before Emmaline carried the dishes into the kitchen and returned with a large apple pie.
Emerson accepted a slice and dutifully ate it, noticing it was as delicious as the main course but still unable to concentrate fully. There must be something he could provide or do to help the shelter.
“Emerson?”
The voice startled him out of his musings. Emmaline sat next to him, and the others were nowhere to be seen. He hadn’t realised they had left.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, her motherly concern coming through in her voice. “Did we say something to upset you during dinner?”
Emerson frowned. “Of course, you didn’t. It’s been amazing.”
Emmaline leaned forward, resting her hand on his arm. “You were quiet through the end of the meal. I thought maybe we had said something to upset you.”
“No! Sorry. No, you didn’t say anything wrong.” He frowned, trying to get into words what he’d been contemplating. “I’m sorry if I seemed ungrateful for dinner. I’m not. I was thinking about the shelter and trying to think of something I could do to help. I’m a teacher. I can help by tutoring if any of the children or adults need it.” He sighed. “But I was also thinking about my new career. Maybe I can help with any speech issues the children have.” He rushed to finish, “Obviously not until I’ve qualified.”
Emmaline smiled at him. “That would be lovely. I’m sure any skills you have would be a help to someone there.”
Emerson glanced at her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more social at dinner.”
She waved her hand and laughed. “Pfft, Adam and Theo got talking about where Adam had visited, and Grant voiced a few facts about the places neither had known which got them discussing books versus the internet. God, my husband, get him started on his debates, and we’ll be here ‘til New Year!” She paused. “If you’d ever like to visit the shelter, give me a call, and I’ll come with you. I bet you’d be more help than you realise.” She patted his hand.
