The downstairs bathroom was a full bath, wallpapered and painted, with newer fixtures, although the room itself was not large. Trevor cleaned off his shirt there since it was splashed with G.G.’s come after Trevor had laid G.G. out on his couch and jerked him off to encourage him to rest. He grabbed a washcloth there as well so he could clean a sleepy, quiet G.G. Then he studied G.G.’s paperback collection for a while, noting titles to ask G.G. about and to mention to Sky.
After a while, with G.G.’s eyes closed in sleep or something close to it, Trevor went into the kitchen to make some coffee. He had a cup, trying the honey and not hating it although it wasn’t exactly like the taste of refined sugar. He fixed a cup with honey for G.G. as well, then returned to the living room in time to find G.G. sitting up.
He handed G.G. the cup, kissed his mussed hair, and went back to the kitchen, pausing to pet Miss Delilah. He felt domestic in a way he hadn’t since having Sky over at his apartment and putting takeout on a plate for him as a low-budget date. He would have put the cleaning supplies away as an apology for leaving G.G. to overthink himself into a cleaning frenzy, but he had no idea where they went and didn’t want to snoop in any closets.
He put the casserole dish in the oven, then futzed around in the dining room under G.G.’s curious but silent attention. Then, when G.G. started to stand, Trevor went over to watch him more closely.
“Dinner’s in the oven. It might dry out,” Trevor warned, hoping G.G. would be polite about that so that Trevor’s grandma would approve of him.
Which was ridiculous but that was Trevor all over. He stopped at the edge of the dining room while G.G. went into the bathroom. When G.G. emerged, looking more awake and aware, his hair even combed, Trevor said, “Your kitchen is filled with some equipment I only recognize because my grandma watches cooking shows. Does your family really think you can’t cook?”
G.G. paused to give Trevor a cautious study. Then he tried to shrug. “They don’t need me to cook for them.”
“So that means you can’t cook?” Trevor wondered in disbelief. If that was the real reason G.G. hadn’t remodeled his kitchen, Trevor was going to paddle his ass until he saw stars. G.G. should have the kitchen he wanted, amateur cook or not.
“They don’t need it,” G.G. nearly repeated himself, giving Trevor another careful stare. “Thank you for the coffee.”
Trevor considered pushing, but he had other ways to find out what he wanted. “What are your plans for this room? The marks on the wall mean something, right? And it doesn’t match the look of the living room or even the bathroom.”
G.G. exhaled in a tired sort of way, but answered, his wary expression not going anywhere. “A high window of etched glass on that wall.” He nodded toward the wall in question. “To let evening light in here about where the dining room table should go. Another window, with no glass, in the wall connected to the kitchen so trays and dishes can be passed through. Although that would involve moving things in the kitchen, so the kitchen should probably get done first with that in mind.”
G.G. wanted a dining room for entertaining, although he didn’t have guests.
Trevor counted to five. He was calm. “It sounds fantastic. I won’t even ask about the wall colors.”
“I don’t know yet,” G.G. revealed.
Trevor leaned in to brush a kiss across his mouth.
A real family, whether they “needed” to be fed or not, could sit through a meal, and pet a cat, and let G.G. care for them. G.G. should have one of those.
Trevor kept that inside for now. “When you can, you should make me something.”
“I’ve been trying,” G.G. answered earnestly.
“I meant food,” Trevor reminded him, although G.G. probably knew that.
If he did, he chose to ignore it.
“I’m still foggy,” G.G. said, eyes glinting as if he knew what a statement like that would do to Trevor. “Why don’t you entertain me by telling me what you’ll need the new desk for. This project of yours.”
For one resentful second, Trevor decided that G.G. and Sky could never be allowed to meet. They were too smart and thought in ways Trevor didn’t. But he gave in, of course he did.
“It’s a silly fantasy comic. Well, fantasy romance. Well. Erotica too. But there is a plot. Or will be.” Trevor cleared his throat and waved dismissively. “I’m not sure of the exact plot yet although I’m getting there. But even if I do it, it will take a while to build an audience… if it does.” Trevor couldn’t help the anxiety in his voice at the admission. “Meanwhile, I do regular commissions and graphics work for my family. That’s why I don’t need anything, really. I’ll get a proper desk when I have a proper career or when the desk I have now finally collapses around me.”
The glint had not left G.G.’s eyes, although Trevor didn’t see anything amusing in what he’d said. G.G. lifted an eyebrow. “So what does a typical artist need in a desk? Even if just for commissions—something I know nothing about.”
“Oh.” Trevor lost some of his defensiveness. “Well. At the moment, except for my original short comics, I mostly do erotic fanart and furry art, to be honest. My comics are more… they do have stories. But I suppose you could call them smut. But, you know, it’s hard to find decent smut online these days. Someone has to do it. I also do the occasional tattoo design.”
“Decent smut,” G.G. echoed, definitely amused. But he swept a look over Trevor and smiled. “You would be good at that, I think.” His voice was huskier than usual, which Trevor was doing his best to ignore so he wouldn’t look too smug or want to fuck G.G.’s mouth again instead of talking. “Do you use color? Like, paints?”
“Sometimes.” It was Trevor’s turn to shrug. “Digital is easier for the commissions. Sometimes I do physical works, but it takes more time and costs more.”
G.G. seemed intrigued. “Do you use a tablet or a laptop or both? Wait.” He walked away, through the living room to the room it led to. It might have been an office, because G.G. returned with a laptop, an expensive one Trevor tried not to drool over.
He put it on the table and opened it, showing some architectural-looking program with diagrams or schematics. He closed that, then began to type notes in another program. He started out using both hands, froze when Trevor said, “G.G.,” in a low voice, and then smoothly resumed typing with one hand.
Trevor dropped a kiss on the back of his neck and G.G. continued while his nape grew rosy.
“I’ll need to get measurements to ensure the desk and chair are ergonomic. Also, what lighting you have and will need. What about screens? A charging port? You said you like to plan, so do you use a physical planner or an app? Where is the outlet in your work space? I’ll need to see all these things. Will you need shelves too?”
“G.G.” Trevor wasn’t sure if he should tell G.G. he was amazing or herd him back to the couch to rest. “I have a lot of physical planners and notebooks,” he admitted, “as you will learn.” He glanced to the dining room table, then focused back on the laptop. “But this is a lot more than I need. I just described to you how I barely do anything.”
“Ah.” G.G. nodded, frowning down at his laptop, which he then closed.
“Shit,” Trevor said out loud, not wanting G.G. to withdraw again. “You don’t think it’s too much effort?” he asked as a compromise. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
G.G. cocked his head to the side, squinting at Trevor as if he’d never met him before. “You’re essentially writing a novel?” he asked. Which was exactly what Sky would have said. “Drawing a novel,” G.G. amended. “You want to, and based on your earlier work, you think you’re capable of it?”
Trevor had an unexpected urge to shift from foot to foot like he’d been called out. He supposed he had been. “When you put it like that…” he allowed, only slightly huffy. Two seconds later, he added, “Probably a series of them, if I can, since I want the side characters to be loved enough to get books of their own to supplement the main story. Though I haven’t thought about the order yet. Chronological, yeah, some. But not the release order. You save the world… or at least a kingdom… and you’ll do things that realistically would take a toll. They’ll make friends, encounter strange things, fall in love, happily and unhappily.”
“And fuck?” G.G. pressed.
Trevor shrugged but answered, “Oh yeah. I mean, get something fun in between all the danger and trauma, you know?”
G.G. nodded slowly. “This is… like the game with magic and dice, right? Not it, but like it? So there isn’t a world already waiting for you. You’re creating an entire world and the people in it. From scratch.”
“If you’re going to sarcastically call me Aragorn like some people do when I mention fantasy stuff, then you obviously haven’t read those….” Trevor stopped because, firstly, he had seen gorgeous Tolkien books on G.G.’s shelves, including The Silmarillion because G.G. was an overachiever, and secondly, because that wasn’t what G.G. had been about to say at all.
“I mean,” he tried again weakly, “it’s fucking and it’s romance. Nobody takes those seriously in fiction or art.”
“You do,” G.G. said simply. “So you need a proper workstation, even if you don’t know what that means for you yet. Would…?” He paused, looking conflicted, but then went on. “Would you like to see mine?”
“I would anyway,” Trevor told him smartly, leaning in to give him another kiss, small and encouraging.
G.G. was starting to go pink all over as he turned to lead Trevor through the living room to the room that must be his office.
It had walls of a deep, luxurious green, shelves that also looked custom, and a desk chair to rival Sky’s, although it obviously wasn’t meant for gaming. G.G. stood in the middle of the room, some tension returning to his shoulders, which was vexing after all the work that had gone in to relaxing him. He clearly wasn’t used to anyone in his space, or possibly jewel-tones were not the expected colors for a contractor’s office and he anticipated harsh judgment.
Trevor grabbed G.G.’s hand and let G.G. trail behind him and cough awkwardly while Trevor inspected his desk and drafting table. The desk looked more used. It even had a space underneath for a cat bed by where G.G.’s feet would go.
“You’re so cute,” Trevor told him, infatuated and dorky with it.
G.G. gave him a befuddled stare.
“The cat bed. The green,” Trevor explained, explaining nothing, he was aware. He tried to be serious. “But you don’t work for anyone but yourself now?”
“These days.” G.G. looked down, then up, but only to where Trevor still held his hand. “I had a business of my own. It was expected, that or join with someone in the family. And I wanted to do something away from them. The business did well enough that my partner eventually bought me out. I… used the money to invest.” G.G. finally raised his head. “If you aren’t greedy or trying to make a lot very fast, you can do all right. And my expenses are minimal.”
“You understand the stock market? It looks like nonsense to me.” Trevor had no shame in admitting it. He was convinced most of it was nonsense.
“Wild speculation suits the needs of those already very rich or those making money off those who want to be very rich but don’t know any better. Greedy people lie, and the rich protect each other, not anyone else.” G.G. confirmed Trevor’s suspicions with more precise, and more damning, language. “But if you have a nest egg to begin with, and aren’t impatient or reckless…. This is boring.”
“Not really. So you’re your own financial advisor and you don’t need to work, although you could if you needed to?” Trevor nearly laughed. He so had a type. “Your family doesn’t get that, do they?”
G.G. shrugged. “They wouldn’t listen. I can’t make them.”
“Do you want to talk about this right now?” Trevor asked, unsurprised when G.G. shook his head. “Okay. So then, this is where you research and plan. Show me your actual workstation.”
A command, but those were going to fall out of Trevor now. G.G. gave him a considering look, but pulled Trevor to the sliding door on the other side of the room, which showed the part of the backyard Trevor hadn’t seen yet.
They stopped to make sure Miss Delilah wasn’t around, although G.G. insisted she wasn’t the type to dart out like Pumpkin had been, then went outside. They were both still in their socks, but the grass was soft.
This part of G.G.’s yard was as plain as the rest of it, except for two large sheds, one of which G.G. opened for Trevor to peer inside. Trevor beheld sawhorses and tools and equipment all laid out or hung up without a single piece touching anything else.
Trevor glanced knowingly at G.G. for that but didn’t comment. He took a deep breath, enjoying the lingering scent of cut wood. Filing cabinets and a long worktable took up one wall. “So now you build personal things instead of working for other people? Is that the difference?”
G.G. tugged his hand free to walk over to the work table to straighten something. “’Partner’ as in domestic as well as business partner,” he said, not looking back. “He was good at business things, and I think he assumed I wasn’t listening when they were discussed, and that anyone could do the construction stuff. Which was probably why he decided he’d be better off handling everything himself. I didn’t really add much. Any contractor would do.”
“Just drawing,” Trevor murmured before tossing his head. “I somehow doubt you were easily replaceable.”
G.G.’s mouth curved up for one second of shy pleasure. “I come from a family of contractors. So… maybe I know more than any old contractor. Anyway. I work for me now.”
“And do… stock market-y things?” Trevor had no way to sound smart about numbers and finance. “Because you understood his business talk fine?”
“My family is very successful at what they do,” G.G. said quietly. “He apparently forgot that.”
Trevor, who had first thought G.G. would make a nice barbarian, nonetheless preferred a slightly monkish warrior who kissed softly and begged sweetly. “I’m not going to ask how much money you have, not including the house, which I know is a whole separate thing. But your family really don’t get you, do they? I’d be all over your advice, not dismissing it. It’s like… Sky analyzes things. That’s what he does. Gathers information and looks at it, and if he one day told me to, like, buy all the mangos in the store because there was about to be a scarcity of mangos, I’d believe him. That’s a weird example but you know what I mean.”
“Mangos,” G.G. said back to him, smiling more despite what he was telling Trevor. “To my family, I failed at my business and the marriage they weren’t great with already. So what advice could I ever have for them?”
Trevor scoffed at G.G.’s absent family. “It’s pretty clear from your house, and office, and this place, that you’re someone who knows what he’s doing. And what I’ve seen of your taste is… holy shit. Classic, but not boring. It’s no wonder my tats confused you.”
G.G. turned to sweep a brief, puzzled look over Trevor. “Your tattoos didn’t confuse me. The lembas one is solid work, clearly referencing ads from the midcentury in a playful way. That one is entirely your design, right? And the other one, I don’t quite know what it is, but it’s sexually charged without being explicit. Is that your original drawing too? It has good lines.”
“God, you’re hot,” Trevor panted at him.
G.G. seemed absolutely startled.
“Do you have any?” Trevor wondered while also wondering if G.G. would like to be groped inside this shed. “Tats, I mean.”
“No, well, an old stick-and-poke some friends and I did as teens, but it’s a mess and faded now because I never touched it up.” G.G. drifted closer to Trevor as he answered, perhaps accurately reading Trevor’s thoughts. “On my ankle. A star. Teen silliness.”
Trevor tried not to look too horny at this, although considering how he’d reacted to G.G.’s piercings, he supposed he’d already given that game away. “I like the look of them on some people. Like art on a body. Sky has a game character on his thigh and something in Quenya—elvish—between his shoulder blades. Like a true nerd.” Trevor really had a type. He wasn’t ashamed but it was sort of sadly funny.
G.G. stared at him for a long moment, then said, “I think we need to have that talk now.”
At the reminder of things they had yet to do, Trevor exclaimed, “My lasagna!” and paused only to make sure G.G. was with him as he hurried toward the house.
Trevor checked on the lasagna, turned the oven temperature down, then went to the dining room table where he’d left his notebook and set up two chairs.
He pulled the pen from the notebook’s spiral binding after he took a seat and clicked it to get it ready while G.G. frowned and sat across from him.
Trevor opened the notebook, cleared his throat, then said formally, “I need to know your likes and dislikes, and limits, and what you’d like from me. We don’t need to discuss everything now, but we should at least get the basics before we go any further,” before he looked up.
G.G. had both eyebrows raised. His gaze went from the cheap spiral notebook to Trevor’s face.
Trevor slowly closed the notebook. “This is dorky?” he guessed-not guessed. “Definitely a turnoff?”
“It is dorky.” G.G. smiled suddenly, the warm, private one that felt like a gold star sticker. “But thank you for it. I’ve done a lot of things. Some I regret… not for what they were, but more for the people I was with. If any of them had had a dorky notebook, I might not have regretted anything.”
“Oh.” Trevor smiled back at him, then abruptly frowned. “The goal of this isn’t to hurt you. I mean… sometimes it will be, if you’re into that, as I suspect you are.”
“Yes.” G.G. sighed it, then sat back.
Trevor took a deep breath. He nodded while he adjusted mentally to dealing with G.G. instead of Sky, which meant no squirming, just clear answers once G.G. trusted him enough to give them. “I meant,” he corrected himself seriously, “the goal is to ultimately give you what you want.”
G.G. looked nearly at ease, studying Trevor while slightly slouched in his seat, his expression intrigued but not alarmed. “Do you keep this sort of information together in books like those?”
“Mostly in my head.” Trevor gave a vague gesture that could have meant anything. “Some on my phone. Some… well, I have a notebook for Sky too. His likes, and what he needs, and things I’d like to try. Sketches, sometimes, while I’m thinking. I sketch his hands a lot.”
G.G.’s gaze was bright. “Have you sketched me?”
“No?” Trevor didn’t think that crossed a line, but he should be honest. “Well, not your face yet. But… yeah.” He arched an eyebrow. G.G. seemed anything but shocked. “Want to know what you were doing?”
G.G. leaned forward again and put his hands flat onto the table. He didn’t look tense. He looked… interested. Pinking up again but focused. “I don’t like not being able to breathe.” He swallowed. “I like a hand at my throat. I can wear a tight collar. But I do not enjoy breath-play. That’s not for me. All right?” He paused there, watching Trevor closely. “That goes in the book. I need to be able to breathe or I’ll panic.”
Trevor shut his mouth and nodded. He clicked the pen a few times to get his energy out, then opened the notebook to write that down. “I’ll organize everything later,” he informed G.G. absently, mind already working on questions and specifics to discuss in the future.
“You weren’t kidding,” G.G. remarked after watching Trevor scribble. Trevor glanced up in surprise as he realized that had been another test, a small one. G.G. bestowed another a gold star on him. “I like the idea of a notebook in your hands with my name on it.” G.G. shivered as he said it and his voice got even huskier. “Though a leather journal would be more appropriate.”
Trevor’s mouth was dry. But he nodded in calm agreement. “I see your point, but I probably couldn’t afford a really nice set, at least not this month.”
Still pink, G.G. leaned back again. “I can afford one or two.”
“Dwarf warrior,” Trevor whispered, mostly to himself. “Collecting skills and a treasure hoard but generous with those dear to him.”
G.G. wanted to help, to share, and no one let him.
Trevor would. He noted that, wrote the word giving, then also wrote the word leather, which he circled, because G.G. hadn’t brought up leather for no reason. “That might be fun,” he remarked casually casual, “taking you out in public to shop for your own notebook.”
G.G.’s sigh was almost longing.
Trevor made another note, then looked up. “What else?”
He was unprepared for G.G. staring at him as though Trevor was some sort of adorable marvel. Or for how G.G. said, slowly and carefully, “First, tell me about Sky.”
That was very possibly another test. But Trevor sat back too and realized that though he was excited, he wasn’t upset, or even really surprised. It was a necessary conversation, and anyway, he liked talking about Sky, even when it was unpleasant truths he didn’t want to acknowledge.
“Sky talks with his hands a lot.” He didn’t know why he started there, but tried to gesture to demonstrate what he meant. “Graceful. Constantly in motion unless he’s hyperfocused on something. I try to draw his hands sometimes for art references—for magic, spellcasting, that kind of thing—but also because it’s just beautiful, how he moves. When he moves. He can sit in a computer chair while working and not notice an entire day going by. He feeds on information. He loves information. And he processes it in a way that people admire… and pay him for. If someone he knows mentions something they might need or are curious about, he will look it up so that he can talk with them about it or help them. He plans campaigns and paints miniatures for fun, and knows things about movies I’ve never heard of. He could probably quote Tolkien’s appendices at you if you wanted.” Trevor’s smile was only vaguely sad. “If you surprise him with a video chat, he will more than likely be in his underwear, if that.” There was a spot at the back of Sky’s neck that, when tickled, made him snort laugh. He had a small gap between two of his front teeth because he’d refused to wear his retainer as a kid and still did. “He wants so much but he never says it. It has to be teased or dragged out of him, and he worries he’s forced me into doing that. I don’t know if he ever tried to find someone else to dominate him, but for all that he loves other people, I don’t think he trusts them very much, so he probably hasn’t. If he worries that he’s forcing me, I worry that he only finds me convenient.”
G.G. made a tiny sound as if he might interrupt but then didn’t.
“We were friends for several years. More acquaintances at first, through mutual friends and then the gaming group, and grew closer over that time. We dated a year, a year and a half. Then he got a job offer two states away and I told him he should go because he was bored here. Which he was. He’s thriving there, in his Sky way. And he will only do better once he finds someone to care for him—physically, I mean. Sky is, as they say, going places.”
“And you’re not?” G.G. raised his eyebrows again. “You’re writing a novel—drawing one. Whatever.”
Trevor shrugged so he wouldn’t click the pen. “I have no idea if it will be any good. Or even if it’s good, that it will sell. I don’t need reassurance about that when I say those things, by the way. That’s just facts.”
G.G. lowered his eyebrows. “Aside from that. You take care of your grandmother. That’s also a job. A noble one.”
Trevor rolled his eyes. “I want to kiss you when you say things like that. But to stay on subject, like, look at you.” G.G. had no call to make a surprised face. “Look at the wonderful things you can make. You owned a business. You can make money even without a business. You’re like him, you know. You and Sky are both special.”
G.G. made that face again but didn’t explain it. “You told me about him. Did you tell him about me?”
“Yes.” Trevor met his stare. “But Sky and I aren’t dating. Not exactly. Maybe we would again if he were closer, but he isn’t and he isn’t going to be because he needs a job that utilizes all or at least most of his big brain, and that’s not here.”
“I didn’t ask if you were dating.” Pointed, and a bit mean for G.G., but Trevor nodded.
He wasn’t shaky. He made sure he wasn’t. “Sky is my best friend. And occasional…” no, that was wrong, “not occasional sub, even if he’s difficult about telling me what he wants. And we are not good at being broken up. Possibly because our reasons for breaking up were… lies. And true. But also lies.” Trevor sighed noisily at himself for explaining it badly. “You probably don’t want any of this now?” He waved at himself, at the mess that he was. “Like the grandma lifestyle wasn’t bad enough. This is me. Dragon porn, and a sort of tragic relationship with an ex, and very few friends.” The gaming group might not have even noticed he was gone. “No career. No real money. I’m fine taking care of you but I could see all the rest convincing you to go elsewhere. If you wanted to, I wouldn’t blame you. I am… good at satisfying people and fussing over them afterward. I am probably a bad choice to date.”
“Trevor,” G.G. said quietly.
Trevor carried on over the interruption. “I would date Sky. I would date you. I am obviously very in love with Sky. I think you’re amazing and want to know you more. I should probably go live in a cave.”
“Then you’d end up like me.”
Of all the things G.G. could have said.
Trevor scowled at the sexy, soft nerd in front of him. “Someone should be taking care of you.”
He had no idea why G.G. was still sitting there, regarding Trevor with tired, fond interest. “But you want to take care of Sky.”
“I want to take care of you both!” Trevor snapped and then shut his mouth hard and stared at G.G. without moving. “Saying what you want out loud kind of hurts,” he observed a moment later after finally blinking.
“Yes.” G.G. regarded Trevor with real warmth in his eyes. “But some of us like that.”
Trevor just breathed. He was maybe a little shaky.
As though he didn’t see that, or saw it and didn’t care, G.G. continued, “Thank you for today. I’d like more of that, more of you.” He took a breath. “I don’t know what you think you are, or why you think it, but you should consider what you do have. I’ve found that helps. Also… spinning fantasies about your new neighbor to pass the time. I want to see more of you and I don’t mind sharing. I don’t expect a happy ending anyway. You shouldn’t worry about that for me.” G.G. even smiled. “I’ll be content with this.”
Trevor raised his head, his eyes already narrowed. “I want to give you that. I want you to have a family that’s good. A family like mine… like this one. The one you said I had. Me and Grandma and Sky… and you, even if all you’ll allow is you kneeling for me.”
It burned but Trevor didn’t care.
G.G.’s pink was steadily darkening. He glanced away, swallowed, then glanced back, giving a start to find Trevor hadn’t looked away. After a moment, he nodded, making Trevor’s heart leap. Then he said to the table, his hands still pressed flat to its surface, “There’s room for more than just me in that garden, Sir—Trevor.”
Trevor stood up. He had to. But he didn’t approach G.G. because they weren’t done yet. “When you’re ready to call me that, I think I’ll like it.”
G.G. was wracked by another shiver. “I’ll want you to hurt me.”
Trevor let a second tick by, then retook his seat, clicked the pen, and tugged the notebook closer. “Then I will,” he agreed softly. “We can talk about that, too.”