Page 39 of Mutual Desire

And yet, here he was.

Thinking of Nabokov.

Desiring him.

Damien shoved the thought aside, finishing his shower quickly. He dressed without paying much attention, pulling on a pair of Craig's black Adidas jogging pants but skipping a shirt. Just as he was about to leave the room, his phone vibrated on the nightstand. He picked it up to see Eric’s name flashed across the screen—an unusual occurrence, given that Eric rarely called.

“Hey, man,” Damien answered, his voice hoarse.

“Did you just jerk off?” Eric’s bluntness landed with its usual tactless charm.

Damien laughed, tittering nervously. Somehow, Eric always managed to turn his lack of tact into an oddly endearing quality. At least, this meant nothing serious had happened.

“What? No!” Damien protested, grinning. “Why would you say that?”

“You sound like someone who just jerked off.”

Damien chuckled. “I literally just got out of the shower—”

“So, I’m right,” Eric cut him off, triumphant. “Thought so.”

Shaking his head, Damien laughed harder. “Did you really call me just to make this observation?”

“Yeah, new hobby of mine,” Eric replied with mock seriousness.

Despite knowing Eric for over six years, Damien could hardly believe that he had once held down a nine-to-five job at an insurance company. It was impossible to picture his laid-back, carefree friend in such a corporate, buttoned-up environment. Yet it was true—Eric had once been the guy in the suit, the one loitering around the coffee machine, harboring homicidal thoughts about his boss. That life had almost suffocated him, until he decided to abandon it all and become a bartender. He’d returned to his old, light-hearted self after that, the Eric Damien knew so well.

“So, what’s up?” Damien asked, steering the conversation away from his earlier activities.

“I won’t keep busting your balls,” Eric said, “but Julia and Andrea want to do a couples' night tomorrow. Bowling.”

Damien raised an eyebrow. After the disaster of their last couples' night out, he hadn’t expected another one anytime soon. Julia and Dimitri’s latest sex friend had ended with a full-blown altercation, so another get-together so soon was... surprising.

“Bowling, huh?” Damien replied. “I’ll have to check with Craig.”

“We’re counting on you, D. Don’t leave us alone with them.”

Damien smiled at Eric’s plea. “Yeah, I’ll see what I can do.”

After hanging up, Damien headed into the kitchen, drawn by the scent of fresh coffee and something sweet sizzling on the stove. Craig stood at the counter, focused on flipping crepes, his hair slightly tousled from sleep. The sight of him should have been grounding—should have been comforting.

Damien walked up behind him, pressing a kiss to Craig’s neck, murmuring, “Hey, you,” against his skin. Craig turned slightly, flashing him a small smile before returning to the pan.

“Someone slept well.” The comment sent a bolt of unease through Damien, though he kept his expression light.

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s rare for you to sleep past ten.” He forced a grin.

“Maybe it’s because you always wear me out the night before.” The words came easily, but they felt hollow.

Craig smirked, flipping the crepe with practiced ease. “You’re lucky you don’t need sleeping pills.”

Damien let out a soft chuckle, but something in his chest twisted. Lucky. If only Craig knew. If only he knew what had kept Damien in bed so long—what had haunted his sleep and followed him into waking.

The weight of it pressed down on him as he watched Craig move, so familiar, so effortlessly warm. This was supposed to be enough. Craig was everything his last relationship hadn’t been—stable, kind, good. Damien knew this. He felt it in the way Craig had held him last night, the way he had kissed him, touched him, murmured his name with such certainty.

And yet, even then…

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