Page 66 of Touch In Excess

“Okay,” Rami whispered. Skye barely heard it, but he felt the breath over his face and the motion of his jaw, and it was in that moment he realized he was absolutely and completely content.

Sixteen

Rami knewit was growing up using ASL with his brother that gave him the worst poker face of all time. Ahmed appreciated it since not everyone in their family used sign properly, but it made for some difficult conversations. Especially when Rami hadn’t seen his brother in months and he was trying to look happy to be at lunch with him.

Which, in reality, he was. He’d missed his family like they’d been a limb he’d lost, and even if it was just his brother, it was something. But Rami was distracted. Tonight was the night—thenight. Skye had been working, his schedule fuller than usual, so Rami hadn’t seen him since their date. It had been nearly a week, and the night before, Skye sent him a text letting him know he was free and ready for the auction.

He sent over his request for Rami’s live that night—edging himself into oblivion with tingling lube applied to his nipples. Rami was both excited and terrified to play with himself because this was a little new, and it was also Skye. It was all Skye.

He was the only one behind the screen who mattered.

His feelings were throwing all of Rami’s plans into disordered chaos. He’d wanted to drag this out more, but with the money Skye had used to win the bid on the toy and then onthis night, Rami was so much further ahead on his plans than he thought he’d be. And he knew with tonight—with the way the bid would climb for his virginity and the fact Skye would beat them all, he’d achieve his goal.

And then some.

He just wasn’t sure what came after. He still didn’t earn enough to support himself with his art, and while he knew Skye would jump in and offer to be his sugar daddy or his patron or something, Rami didn’t think he could be in a relationship like that. Not with the feelings he had for Skye.

Ahmed choked loudly on his swallow of water, his eyes going wide. ‘Did you just spell SUGAR DADDY?’

Rami’s gaze darted to his fingers, which had obviously betrayed him. His echolalia was worse when he was stressed, and he’d learned a long time ago that it translated to finger spelling random words over and over. He just hadn’t realized his brain had picked up onthatone.

Wonderful.

‘Ignore,’ he signed.

Ahmed crossed his arms and stared pointedly, and Rami knew it was only a matter of time before he was going to crack. His first instinct was to lie, which would have worked in his favor because one of the stereotypes his brother believed about him was that Autistic people couldn’t lie.

Ramicouldlie. And well. Even with his shitty poker face. He didn’t often do it because he rarely saw the point, but he realized now was probably a good time for it. He didn’t think he was ever going to tell his siblings or his parents what Skye did for a living.

There was no point. His parents were open-minded and accepting, but he didn’t think they’d get on board for some Dante’s hell–themed brothel employee falling for their son. Especially their son they tended to infantilize.

‘My boyfriend is rich,’ he finally answered. That was the truth, which made the lie easier. ‘I was thinking about how different our lives are.’

Ahmed’s expression relaxed, and he leaned his chest against the table, signing lazily, ‘I want to meet him.’

Rami nodded. ‘I know. He’s nervous. He’s never met a boyfriend’s parents.’

Ahmed’s brows lifted. ‘No serious relationships?’

Rami shrugged and didn’t answer. The truth was, he didn’t know. He and Skye spent hours talking, but they both tended to avoid what was and focused on what would be. Or on the present, which Rami enjoyed the most.

‘When?’

‘As soon as I get everything with the house taken care of,’ Rami told him.

Ahmed looked annoyed. ‘Are you going to throw out all that old stuff?’

Another point of contention. His brother and his parents wanted him to renovate and sell the place. His sister was the only one on his side about keeping it the way it was. He knew it wouldn’t ever bring his grandfather back, but preserving bits and pieces of him felt…important. Rami struggled with remembering people who weren’t around, and he was terrified to lose the man who had one of the strongest hands in making him the man he was right there at that table.

A man he really liked.

A good man who was proud of himself, confident, and loved.

‘Sorry,’ Ahmed signed after a beat. He must have seen the look on Rami’s face. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I—’ His hand stilled, and his brows furrowed.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘There’s a man watching us. Watching you,’ he clarified.

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