Emery
Lazing around the house on the weekend was rare for me. Other than waking early to go on a morning jog throughout the neighborhood, I had mostly stayed on the couch and watched TV. My usual routine on the weekend was to work out, deep-clean the house, work for a while in my home office, and then go grocery shopping and run any other errands I needed.
But I saidfuck itthat Saturday and decided to be lazy for once. Cason had taught me how to relax. Only a week with him and I already felt different. It was a change I could certainly get used to.
Hearing my phone ring, I glanced at the screen and answered it with a smile.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” Cason said, sounding out of breath. “Just finished with my meeting.”
“How did it go?” I asked, remembering how nervous he’d been about it.
“Great! I got all the classes I wanted.” A car door slammed in the background. “Shit, I feel so out of shape. Had to park at the very back of the parking lot and walk across campus to get to the registration building. Being out of school has killed my workouts.”
“You could always come over and get a good workout in with me,” I suggested, standing from the couch and stretching.
“Why, Mr. Cross, I should have you know I’m a perfect gentleman,” Cason said with mock innocence.
“Uh-huh.” I walked down the hall to the kitchen. “Tell that to the memory I have of you telling me tofuck your cock just like that.”
Cason laughed. “Okay, you have me there. What are you up to?”
“Being lazy,” I answered, opening the refrigerator and looking inside. “I was watching Netflix, and now I’m about to cook.”
“What show were you watching?”
“The documentary about Ted Bundy.”
“Damn, I want to watch that one,” Cason said. It sounded like he was driving now. “Is it good?”
“Come over and find out,” I said without a second thought. “I’ll make us lunch.”
“Is that an order?”
The smile in his voice made me smile in turn. “Perhaps. Now get over here.”
Cason arrived fifteen minutes later and parked in the garage. He wasn’t even in the house for ten seconds before I was pulling him to me and kissing him. He grinned and returned the kiss, grabbing a handful of my shirt. Over twenty-four hours since I’d tasted him, and I was like an addict finally getting their fix.
“Hungry?” I asked against his sweet lips.
“For dick, yes.”
“How about grilled chicken salad?”
“Less exciting,” Cason said. “But it’ll do.”
Grabbing his hand, I led him into the kitchen and started putting together the salads. I had grilled the chicken on my George Foreman grill before he got there, so I just had to cut it up and toss together the salad.
“Do you like tomatoes?” I asked, cutting up one to put in mine.
“Yep,” he answered from behind me. “I’ll eat pretty much anything.”
“Typical teenage boy response.”
“Well, when you grow up without a whole lot, you learn to accept whatever you can get,” he said, and the tone of his voice made me stop slicing and turn to look at him. “Sorry. Too serious?”
“Not at all,” I said, focusing back on the cutting board. “I don’t mind if we talk.”