Page 35 of A Queen and Her Knight

“I’m almost fifty years old,” John complained, albeit mildly. “I know that’s nothing to you, but it’s a lot to us humans.”

“Please. Humans live to be a hundred these days. I think it’s the city sewage systems, honestly. Everyone takes them for granted, but they wouldn’t if their toilet was the river that was also their source of drinking water. Shit is a serious issue.”

John studied him for a moment. Then he somehow got even more mild, which was his best talent after intimidating people through quiet cleverness, and the way he gave head. He leaned on the doorjamb, with one hand lazily holding up his towel. “First of all, I was in the Army. I’m fully aware that shit is a serious issue. Secondly, is this your way of telling me the toilets aren’t working either?”

“They would be,” Rennet shrugged, “if the water wasn’t shut off to the entire house.”

John didn’t even blink. “ETA on the water being back on?”

“Ten minutes or so, if I can fix the kitchen sink by then. Something is blocking it.” Rennet hummed. He was totally innocent. Totally. He was a babe in the woods. A lamb in the springtime. A virgin in a whorehouse.

Which… probably wasn’t the model he should go with here.

“I’ll call Margery, tell her I’ll be a little late.” Unaware of Rennet’s internal idiom debate, John answered him with a similar shrug, then disappeared into the bedroom, probably to get his cell phone.

Rennet watched him go before swinging around to face the sink. He cracked his knuckles and then his neck before opening his toolbox. Then, wrench in hand, he got down beneath the sink. He’d already removed the boxes of trash bags as well as the jars of vinegar and furniture oil that Yvonne used to clean the house. The sink trap was the most likely culprit for whatever was going on. Hopefully, Rennet could take care of it before anyone could question why the sink would suddenly get blocked.

“Why did the sink suddenly get blocked?” John inquired smoothly from much closer than he’d been before.

Rennet flinched and bumped his head on a pipe. It didn’t really hurt, but some sympathy would have been nice. Not John’s silence… which meant John was suspicious. Possibly because Rennet was jumpy.

He looked over, saw John—well, a towel and John’s legs—in the doorway, and his tail thumped against the floor, notat alllike a guilty dog’s.

“Um.” Rennet focused on loosening the nuts on the pipe while internally sighing over the jokes he would have made about this back in the day when he’d first met John. Getting ogled by a client while doing jobs around the house had been surprisingly nice, a first for Rennet in all his years. He wouldn’t have minded some porn dialogue to go with it. “I’m hurt, John. Hurt. Here I am, in my underwear, performing manual labor on my back for you, and you didn’t even notice.”

“Those aremyboxers you’re wearing.” John’s voice was steady. “That tear near the bottom is from your teeth.”

“Also,myunderwear comes in colors, and sometimes has pictures on it.” Sometimes it had lace on it too, but only if Rennet was feeling it and if John had done something to deserve it. Really, Rennet would wear panties for him any day, and dance for him too with all the moves Destiny had taught him, but Rennet liked to keep things lively. And possibly in the back of his mind was a small fear that John would someday get bored with him if he did those things too often.

“Are you implying my underwear choices are dull?” It was impossible to tell what John was thinking from his voice, or his legs.

“Oh, I’m saying it.” Rennet had put a bowl on the floor earlier, and he held it under the trap to catch any leftover water as he pulled the pipe away. “I don’t mind the plain colors, but cotton? If there was ever a man who could pull off silk shorts outside of the 1920s, it’s you.”

“Rennet, you’re the only one pulling off my shorts. If you think they’re boring, I’ll get new ones.”

“I didn’t say that.” Rennet stopped, then wriggled out from under the sink without using his hands, which were currently holding the bowl and the P pipe. He stared up at John. “I don’t think they’re boring. You could wear polyester pants to bed and I’d still want to pull them off you.”

“Thank you for that.” John seemed uncertain at that answer, but smiled anyway. “At least you wouldn’t steal polyester pants.”

“Ha.” Rennet fake-laughed at him. “Clearly you haven’t seen pictures of me from the 1970s.”

The delight that took over John’s expression was positively evil. “Where are they? Does Kaz have them? I’m going to call him later.”

Rennet narrowed his eyes. “Anyway,” he moved on, loudly. “We can’t all be a hot piece like you in all our old pictures.”

“Your look in the ‘50s was better than you think. We should get you another leather jacket.” John licked the side of his mouth. “And I always like you in uniform.”

“I’ll wear that the day I get you in silk shorts.” Rennet considered. “In your office,” he added, to make it more interesting.

“We got caught in my office last time.” John was not objecting.

“By Margery. That doesn’t even count.” She’d known they were in there and what they’d been up to. She’d just been pissed that John was ignoring the buzz of the intercom. Cockblocking wench. Rennet had gotten her back by not stopping what he’d been doing. “Also, you were being loud.”

John was unfazed. “You were grinding your panty-clad ass on my lap, in my new chair, in my new office. Of course I was being loud.”

“You deserved a reward, Mr. Mayor.” Rennet hummed. People had elected John as their mayor despite him living with Rennet… being engaged to Rennet, although most people ignored that. Including Rennet, because it made his tail whip around whenever he thought of it. Kaz, of course, thought it was fucking hilarious that Rennet would be nervous. As if human-being, male-male weddings happened all the time, and they happened toRennet. John was incredible and he wanted Rennet, even with all the trouble, maybe because of the trouble too, and it was so… it was just…. Looking at John was like…. “Fuck.”

Rennet closed his eyes. He was too old for this.

---