Socks for an Otter

by Posy Roberts

  Sebastian shrugged, submerged his shoulders, and closed his eyes. “I’m used to doing everything in public these days, but if you’re not afraid I’ll rip you off, I’d appreciate a few moments alone.”

  “Food,” Louis said a second before the door closed. Sebastian turned off the taps in time to hear Louis groan, “Fuck, he’s gorgeous.”

  Sebastian beamed.

  Still got it.

  5

  Crab in Hot Water

  Louis leaned against the bathroom door, gripping the handle so he wouldn’t slide down in a crumpled heap on the ground. He cursed himself out.

  What the hell had that been? He’d invited Bash over for a meal, not to fucking grope him with his gaze.

  But, man!

  He never would’ve suspected that toned, perfect-for-him body existed under those clothes. Bash was thin, yes, but his muscles were defined. He was exactly Louis’s type. If he could’ve put in a special order for the body type he craved, Bash would’ve been spit out of the perfect-boyfriend machine.

  And his cock. His cock was . . .

  Louis shook his head to try to dislodge the vision, but those heavy balls nestled below a dark thatch were the perfect backdrop for a long, thick cock. And Bash had been soft. What happened when—

  His phone pinged. A message.

  Marvin: Be kind to this kid. Don’t know his whole story, but he’s a lot more fragile than he lets on

  Marvin: And the crabs were a hit btw

  Louis: Thank god. I was so stupid to bring that.

  Marvin: Maybe stick with chicken next time. LOL

  Louis: Will do.

  The crabs. He promised to cook for Bash.

  Louis let the door handle go and headed for the stairs, ready to get cooking, when he remembered his offer about laundry. The least he could do was wash Sebastian’s clothes, so he grabbed an empty laundry basket and knocked on the bathroom door.

  “Hey, Bash, I can wash your clothes while you soak. Would you like that?”

  “Oh, yeah. Thanks. That would be great. Come on in.”

  Louis slowly opened the door, keeping his attention up. Don’t look through the bubbles. Ignore the bubbles. But he burst out laughing at how Bash had covered his nipples to make it look like he was wearing a bikini. “You look like a mermaid.”

  Bash beamed. “I’m that rare.” He fluttered his eyelashes and pursed his lips.

  “And that pretty,” Louis said under his breath.

  “What was that?”

  He scooped up the dirty clothes Bash had stripped off, and a quarter fell out of the jeans and went rolling across the floor. “Oops. Here.”

  “Oh, thanks! That’s my lucky quarter.”

  “Why is it lucky?”

  Bash shrugged. “It has the year I was born on it.”

  Something about that warmed Louis. “I’ll give you some space.”

  “Hey,” Bash said, stopping Louis at the doorway. “Would you mind bringing my shoes in here? I tucked my dirty socks in them.”

  “Sure.” Louis dropped his load in the basket and dashed out to get the shoes. When he returned, Bash had dunked his head, and his hair was much darker. Water droplets dripped off his beard. “Shampoo? Do you want stuff to moisturize or do more of a deep clean?”

  Bash sat up and chuckled. “Look at you! When I first saw you, I would’ve guessed you’re a one-bottle guy, and I mean shampoo and conditioner in one. I never would’ve pegged you as a skin- and hair-care whore.”

  All Louis could do was shrug as he set Bash’s bag on the wide ledge of the tub.

  “It’s not a bad thing,” Bash said as he dug in his bag and proceeded to make two piles. But when Louis tried to make rhyme or reason of them, he couldn’t. Bash pulled his attention back to his mouth when he said, “I think the number of products you have in your bathroom is unique. We all need our thing. This is yours. Clearly. And crab.”

  “And shoelaces.”

  “That too. I’ll take the moisturizing shampoo if you have one. Dry hair.”

  “And the piles?” Louis gestured to them.

  “Dirty and filthy.”

  Louis chuckled as he tossed both piles into the laundry basket, taking a mental note of where the filthy pile started. “Any special washing instructions?”

  “Everything’s easy to care for. Wash the stuff on hot. That’s what I usually do, but if your machine does an extra rinse, the filthy pile could use it.”

  “Got it. My washer has a sanitary mode even.” Louis gave him a wink and picked up the basket.

  “Again, thanks for this. It means a lot.”

  “I’ll just get these loads going. Soak as long as you want. Even refill and try some of the other products. I’ll just be downstairs cooking. I’ll let you . . .” Louis gripped his hair. “Gawd, I’m leaving now. Enjoy your soak.”

  Bash scooped up more bubbles and covered his nipples again. Louis had to get out of there before he abandoned the laundry and instead helped Bash work the lather into his chest hair.

  This was too much. His mind was going places it shouldn’t. He was feeding this guy, letting him take a bath, and washing his clothes. And if Bash stayed the night, that was fine too.

  He wasn’t aiming to sleep with the guy, though.

  He wasn’t.

  The bathwater was amazing, and the luxurious bubbles did wonderful things to his skin. The tub itself was too. It was huge. Sebastian could practically swim in it, and if he dipped deep enough, only his head was exposed.

  He scrubbed his hair and used some conditioning paste that almost went on like clay, but according to the label, it would leave his hair soft, smooth, and smelling nutty and fruity.

  Fitting.

  As the conditioner did its thing, he drained the water. It left a ring around the tub.

  “Jesus Christ.”

  That’s why he picked bubbles in the first place. He’d been filthy, and when Louis gave him permission to refill the tub, he’d never been more grateful.

  Sebastian turned the water back on and aimed the handheld shower mechanism at his head. Working the thick conditioner out was a struggle but it gave the tub more time to drain. And the label hadn’t lied. Holy shit, was his hair soft!

  He took care getting to his feet and aimed the shower spray over his back, washing away the suds that had sluiced down his back with such . . .

  Oh fuck.

  Pleasure had been such an elusive thing these last months. He’d experienced more in the last ten minutes than the previous nine months, and the speed at which his cock hardened proved it.

  The hand shower was like a thousand tickling tongues licking his skin, and the way the bubbles caressed him . . .

  He stroked his cock as the spray danced across his body.

  He moaned and closed his eyes to let the fantasy run its course.

  The bathroom door opened.

  Louis gasped and apologized, mumbling, “Sorry. Sorry.”

  Sebastian didn’t open his eyes, but the way the door snicked shut, he knew he was alone. He released his cock and ran the jets over his head once more, made sure all the bubbles were washed from his skin, and rinsed the tub until it was sparkling.

  He ignored the cabinet of products this time as the tub filled and contented himself with the way the hot water lapped against his skin. He touched his body in ways he’d not done in ages. He stroked himself, tugged on his balls, skimmed his fingers around his hole. He pinched and pulled on his nipples and arched into the sensation.

  He could so easily come like this.

  He could call Louis back in to watch. He’d stroke his cock under the crystal clear water and see how Louis’s face changed when he shot his load.

  Would he gasp like he just had? Maybe it would be louder.

  Mmm. The gasp . . .

  It had been music to his ears.

  Like most people, Louis was likely shocked that Sebastian was even bigger when hard. He was a grower and a shower, if that was a thing. It was just how he w
as made.

  Out on the streets, people were always begging him to top. He only took a single soul up on the offer because he had no desire to fuck them. It was . . . too much to ease someone open so you could be inside them. You had to care about the person, or at least he did.

  And all he wanted was a warm place to sleep. That’s the only reason he was fucking at all. He’d rather avoid fucking or being fucked entirely. No bed was soft enough, no house warm enough, and no person safe enough for that.

  Besides, hand jobs and blow jobs were just easier.

  Sebastian sat up to see why Louis had come into the room. He discovered a small stack of clean clothes sitting on the countertop. They weren’t familiar, so he must’ve gone digging in his closet. Balanced on top was a brand-new brush.

  Their next conversation would be awkward. No doubt about that.

  But at least Bash would be clean, groomed, and wearing clothes that Louis had likely worn prior to this. They’d be on as equal footing as possible in this awkward, fish-out-of-water moment.

  Still, this would be beyond weird.

  As the crabs steamed, Louis waited for his best friend to pick up her phone, cursing himself out as it rang. “Fucking idiot. Yes, it’s my house, my bathroom, but fucking knock when a stranger is taking a bath.”

  “Hmmm, so you’re still being housebroken, huh?” Leah said with a deadpan drawl. “And since when did you start bringing hookups back to your place? More importantly, why am I hearing about this after the deed rather than before?”

  “Christ, Leah. It’s so much worse than that. I just walked in and saw . . . masturbation . . . Gawd! I’m such a fucking—”

  “Idiot. I know. I heard you scolding yourself. How is this worse? Tell me.”

  “It’s a homeless guy I ran into when I dropped off a donation.” He slammed the packed dishwasher shut and started a load.

  “You fucked a person you just met? And they happen to be homeless?”

  “No. No, Leah, I didn’t fuck anyone.”

  “Then slow down. Stop admonishing yourself and tell me the whole story.”

  Louis sliced cucumbers and tomatoes, seasoned them with salt and pepper, and hoped Bash enjoyed them as much as he did. He told Leah about how they ran into each other, literally, and then again at the food pantry. The banter they threw back and forth, and how he just tossed out his invite to cook for a total stranger.

  She hummed at first, taking a moment to ask about Bash’s full name since it was a really odd name, but Louis couldn’t answer. He didn’t know. They hadn’t talked about stuff like that, and for some reason he felt as if he had no right to ask. Until Bash told him his real name, he’d be Bash.

  He plated food, poured drinks, and finally pulled the crabs out of the pot so they’d have time to cool enough to handle. The whole time, they chatted.

  The longer he talked, the quieter she got. That didn’t surprise him. She didn’t fully get his need to help people as much or as often as he did. His explaining the lean years he endured at home on the Bay never truly sunk into her head.

  And why would it? She grew up with money, and if she ever needed for anything, all she had to do was call home to Daddy, who had money sent to her. The longest she’d gone without was a few days when she was “stranded” in a Greek villa that overlooked the ocean. She didn’t know anything about praying to catch enough that day for supper so she wouldn’t go to bed hungry.

  He started pulling crabmeat from the shell. Maybe Bash would’ve been okay learning how to pick crabs, but something made Louis want to spoil him. Possibly because Marvin had told him Bash was more fragile than he seemed.

  “So, you’re taking in strays now?” Leah asked, bringing him out of his own head. “That’s new for you. Which worries me.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. You’re still feeling guilty for not being there for Mati.”

  “She died without me!”

  “You couldn’t help that, Louie. But taking in strays will never bring her or your baby back.”

  “I know that.” He grimaced, so sick of having this same conversation. He tore into the next crab and nearly cut himself on the shell by not taking enough care.

  Okay, so some of what Leah said resonated. Mati was the one who got him involved in volunteering in the first place, and after she died, he started putting in more hours. If he was focused on helping other people who had far more urgent needs than a grieving heart, somehow, he hurt less.

  The day of Mati’s placental abruption, Louis had been stuck in the Capitol basement in a senate hearing where his phone had to be turned off and stowed before he went in the secure room. The second there was a break and he could leave, he turned his phone on. He was bombarded with message upon message, the last from Mati’s sister saying she had just gotten to the hospital, but Mati was already dead. And so was their baby, who Louis could never bear to name.

  “But do you? The way you give so much of yourself makes me wonder.”

  Louis sighed, dropping the last crab shell in the trash and rinsing his hands. “Okay, I do a lot of this volunteering stuff to honor Mati. Yes. And I likely do that because of the guilt for missing her phone calls and not being able to get to her, to help her, or tell her I loved her one last time. So you’re halfway right.”

  Leah let out a noisy breath. “You need to stop stealing from yourself.”

  Louis sucked on his bottom lip. “You make it sound like I gain nothing. But I get a lot from volunteering.”

  She snickered. “Apparently a dinner companion tonight, huh? Whatcha cooking him?”

  “It’ll be nice to not eat alone for once,” he whispered. “I steamed blue crabs my dad caught this morning.”

  “Holy shit. Wait . . .” But she said nothing.

  “What?”

  “Tell me what you’re not saying,” she insisted.

  He groaned. “Weird stuff. Like, I volunteered to cook for him before I even knew what I was doing. It just . . . happened.” He sighed. “Okay, he reminded me of that guy. Brady.”

  “Your first guy kiss? Him?”

  “My only guy kiss.”

  “Well, he’s not Brady. He’s not some tourist just passing through looking for a quick thrill. If he’s homeless, he’s likely hurting. Or scoping out the joint.”

  “I don’t get the vibe that he’s gonna rob me. And a friend I trust vouched for him.” Louis plated the crab and the sides and then realized all his silverware was in the dishwasher. “But he’s lashed out a time or two already.”

  “Makes sense. Be careful. Don’t get too aggressive, ya know?” Her voice was suggestive, flirtatious.

  “I’m not planning on sleeping with him.”

  “Yeah, but does he know that?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just think about it. You invited him back to your place, you’re about to feed him crab—at least it’s not oysters—and he probably thinks he has nothing to offer you aside from . . .”

  “Sex. Shit, Leah. That’s not why I invited him here. I had blue crabs at home. He was hungry. It’s cold.”

  “Well, he may have come home with you because he wants sex. That’s a possibility too. So just be careful. And use protection. You do have condoms that aren’t two years beyond their expiration date, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And lube? You’ll need lube for anal. The good stuff.”

  “Lord. What did I step into this time?”

  “Oh, the struggles of the kind and generous. I expect an update tomorrow. Gotta go. The twins need help with their homework.”

  “Later.”

  Louis groaned. Why the hell had he called her? Oh yeah, for someone to talk sense into him.

  He preferred being blissfully ignorant and thinking this was just a home-cooked meal, but with the masturbation he’d walked in on and the expectations Bash might have, he had to make sure it didn’t head down that road.

  This was an innocent dinner.
Nothing more.

  He headed back up to the bathroom and knocked. Between the sounds of lapping water and low chuckles, he heard, “Decided to knock this time around, huh?”

  Louis grimaced. “Yes. Sorry about that. Supper is ready. Silverware, however, is not. It’s midcycle in the dishwasher. I wasn’t thinking. But crab is good finger food. I can bring you up a plate if you’re not done yet; it’s best if you eat it hot.”

  “The ledge of the tub can be my table. Right?”

  “Why not? I’ll be right back.”

  “Louis?”

  He turned around and leaned against the doorjamb. “Yes?”

  “Will you eat with me?”

  “In there?”

  “Yeah. I know it’s weird, but . . . well . . . I don’t wanna eat alone.”

  Louis smiled. He felt the same way. “Sure. I can do that. Give me a few.”

  6

  Finger Food

  In Sebastian’s exploration of Louis’s huge cabinet of products, he’d discovered a squat stroker and lube tucked away high on the top shelf behind a bottle of cherry-almond shampoo. So maybe Louis jerked off in the tub while his deep-cleaning mask did its thing. As curious as he was, he ignored the see-through masturbator. Instead his eyes zeroed in on a fat candle and a book of matches. It had taken a few tries, but he eventually got it lit, and the flame on the amber candle now flickered. It smelled of patchouli, giving the room an earthy, warm scent.

  When Louis arrived with a tray laden with heaping plates of food, Sebastian sat up cross-legged, facing the long ledge of the tub. All his fantasies of seducing Louis and letting him watch him jerk off were just that: fantasies. He wasn’t nearly that brazen, and he wasn’t sure if Louis was actually into him or just shocked by the little show he’d put on earlier.

  Always using misdirection and smoke and mirrors to keep people from seeing the real me.

  Louis set the plates, glassware, and napkins on the wide ledge before he made eye contact. Then his gaze drifted down, and he was clearly surprised to see the water was crystal clear.