Page 81 of Set Fire to This Cardhouse

He leans forward, elbows on his thighs, and lets himself just look at Mike: it’s a lovely sight, Mike still damp and mostly naked, dark hair sketching a path from his belly button down into his trunks, the morning sun gentle on his face. Jesus, yes, Toby wants to wake up to this, to them, every goddamn day.

Maybe he’s already in too deep. But if he is, he’s passed the point of no return.

Glancing away, he tries to time his breathing to the ebb and swell of the ocean. “I’ll start, okay? Here’s the thing: I don’t know how this is going to work. I have no clue how it possibly can when you’re an explosion hazard and I’m back in Newark and our jobs take us God knows where.” The sun is brilliant in his eyes, spots of brightness dancing behind his lids each time he blinks. He spares Mike only the shortest of glances, taking in Mike’s smooth expression that is belied by a strain around his mouth. Waves roll in and Toby inhales. “What I do know is that I want it to work because, see, I wasn’t planning to fall in love while I’m still active in the field. It really wasn’t part of my plan. Any plan. But” —he lifts one shoulder, his vision overflowing with light— “you, my friend, are terrible at heeding my instructions. So, just in case it wasn’t clear: I’m in love with you.”

Mike doesn’t move. The ocean’s rhythm remains unchanged, uncaring.

“I want this to work,” Toby finishes softly. He refuses to look at Mike. “But it won’t if we’re not on equal footing.”

Finally, Mike moves, swinging his legs over the side of the deck chair. His hand lifts in an aborted attempt to reach out, but stops halfway between them. “You think I offer my house to just anyone?” he asks. His voice sounds unfamiliar, parched. “You honestly think I would have let that asshole Welton walk all over me if it wasn’t for you? I thought I’d made myself clear.”

Toby’s gaze fixes on Mike’s face. “Clear how?”

Mike sends him a slow, patient look.

“Clear how?” Toby insists. “Are you saying you’re in love with me? Is that what you’re saying?”

His stupid heart skips a beat at the smile that starts in Mike’s eyes and then grows, takes over Mike’s entire face until Toby can’t help but return it. They must look like right idiots, beaming at each other over the gap between the deck chairs.

“Jesus, Toby.” Mike shakes his head, but he doesn’t stop grinning. “It’s about time you noticed.”

“No, say it.” Leaning forward, Toby grabs Mike’s wrist to pull him closer until Mike’s weight is supported only by the very edge of his deck chair. “Spell it out for me, Michael.”

“I’m in love with you.” Mike twists his wrist free, but only to lace their fingers. His gaze flicks from their hands to Toby’s face, the smile dimming just slightly. “And I have no clue how this is going to work either. We both know that this is far out of my area of expertise. Honestly, you think I planned any of this?”

“I know you didn’t.” Toby runs his nail over the pad of Mike’s thumb. “After all, you do suck at planning.”

“Lies and slander,” Mike says, and this is probably a bad time for Toby to notice the stubborn droplet of water still clinging to the hollow of Mike’s throat, glistening like a tempting secret. If Toby dipped his head and leaned forward to lap it up, Mike wouldn’t object.

Because Mike is in love with Toby.

Toby’s rebuttal is weak and belated. “Not if it’s true.”

Mike gives him a slow smirk, all smug calculation. “You want me to develop and execute a plan? I can do that.”

Of course he won’t be able to resist a challenge. Maybe Toby should have thought of that earlier. Too late now.

“Here,” Mike continues, gaze unwavering. “How’s this for a plan?” He strokes Toby’s wrist with a light fingertip, his tanned hand contrasting with Toby’s paler skin. His voice dips to an intimate level. “I’m going to prep you right here—nice and slow, lay you out in the sunshine so I can get a real good look at you. Take my time.”

Toby swallows.

“And then,” Mike tells him in that same low, confident tone, “you’ll follow me into the ocean. No need to get in very far, just until the water comes up to my chest. We’ll get your legs around my waist, and I’ll fuck you right there, one hand around your cock.”

Fuck, he’s good.

Maybe it should lessen the appeal that he’s well aware of what he’s doing, that he might have been trained in how to pitch his voice just right, how to angle his head and phrase his words. Given the obvious bulge in Mike’s trunks, Toby finds it hard to care. When he gives a light tug, Mike happily slides off his deck chair and into Toby’s lap.

“Porn—” Toby buries a hand in Mike’s hair to pull his head down— “has nothing on you, babe. I hope you know that. You could give that porn version of Pirates of the Caribbean a run for its money, and from what I remember, it was a lot of money. Most expensive porn movie ever made, wasn’t it? You’re better.”

“We need to discuss your taste in motion pictures.” Mike’s grave tone is offset by the gleam in his eyes. He shifts his hips, rubbing up against Toby’s cock in a most delicious way, with Toby’s worn sweats doing very little to limit the impact. “Also,” Mike continues, “I take this to mean you agree with my plan. I did think it was a good one.”

That’s when Toby’s phone rings. From the open bedroom window, the sound cuts through the peaceful quiet of the morning.

Mike tilts his head. “Leave it.”

“Could be Matt,” Toby says.

He doesn’t really want to talk to his brother when he has Mike in his lap, but the missed calls are getting ridiculous. Also, Mike offered to house Matt and Haley for a summer vacation—offered because he wants Toby here and doesn’t mind if Toby comes as a package deal, at least while school’s out. It’s... kind of mind-blowing. Maybe it’ll feel more tangible once Toby knows whether Matt is planning to book flights.

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