Page 146 of Rules to Love By

The sound that came out of Marcus didn’t make a lot of sense. His scalp, his neck, even his balls still ached from Eli’s hands and teeth. Every point brought his focus away from the shame he used to feel at wanting that kind of manhandling. Away from churning guts and onto the rest of his body. The exhaustion, the fine tingling of his fingers pressed to the tile and losing blood flow, Eli’s weight and warmth, and the soft slide of skin on skin where Eli swooped his hands over Marcus’s body. all settled him into himself.

“Okay,” Marcus said. “But you’re heavy.”

“Deal with it.” Eli kissed between his shoulder blades and leaned a few more seconds, the demand Marcus hold him up a bit longer implied.

Marcus did what he was told. He served, giving Eli the support he needed, forcing his limbs to do the work, keeping his brain engaged and his nervous reaction at bay just long enough it was under control by the time Eli eased off him and pulled him around.

They kissed for a long time as the water ran over them.

Mildred, for once not being contrary, kept the flow warm until they finally pulled apart.

“We have to get to the diner,” Eli pointed out as they separated.

“What time is it, do you think?”

“We’re probably going to be late if we don’t hurry up.”

“Ozzy won’t mind.”

Eli smacked his ass.

“Ow.”

“Get out and get dressed, yeah?”

“That an order?”

Eli grinned at him. “Wanna punch me?”

“Wanna kiss you.”

Eli pecked him lightly on the mouth. “Dress first.”

“Spoilsport.”

Another smack on his bottom.

“I’m going.” He smiled as he climbed out of the shower. His stomach, though it folded in on itself a bit, behaved.

The diner was a whole other kind of anxiety-producing beast. The outside had been cleaned up, windows replaced, and signs repainted and better lit. Inside was another story. So much work had to be done to repair the water damage from the broken windows, and the general disrepair of old age and use.

“Why did she let it get this bad if she had the money to fix it?” Marcus wasn’t sure who asked the question this time. He’d fielded it countless times already, and the truth was, he just didn’t know.

“You nervous?” Eli asked as he held the door open for Marcus.

“What do you think?”

“Use your words, not your sarcasm,” Eli suggested.

“I’m nervous.”

“I got you.”

“I know. But I don’t know how to feel. He’s my grandfather. Where has he been all my life? I have questions.”

“And now you can ask them.”

Marcus nodded as he stepped over a pile of dust and debris one of the drywallers was sweeping up.

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