On Saturday, Elliott raised his hand to knock, lowered it, then raised it again.

He hated these fancy apartment buildings, mostly because he never knew whether he was supposed to knock. Aiden had buzzed him in downstairs, so was he going to open the door after a suitable waiting period? Was Elliott supposed to announce his presence, or would that be horribly gauche?

The door didn’t even have a peephole so Aiden could see it was him instead of a stranger who’d shanked Elliott in the elevator and was about to rob the apartment blind. That wasn’t likely to happen, but Elliott’s dad had taught him well. He had all kinds of hang-ups from being a cop’s kid.

He ended up knocking once, softly. Then he worried whether it was loud enough to be heard. Should he knock again? What if Aiden had heard? That would make him seem impatient.

Aiden opened the door.

“Hi,” Aiden said with a small, neutral smile that thankfully didn’t scream, Come in, sit down, we’ll have tea and discuss how much I’m willing to pay you to have access to your glorious booty 24/7.

Elliott swallowed and stepped past the threshold, then hopped on one foot to remove one of his sneakers. Apparently Aiden’s was a shoes-off household, a concept that shattered Elliott’s unrealistic assumption that Aiden spent all day fully buttoned and laced.

He fell over into the wall trying to tug off his second shoe without untying it all the way, then blushed and grimaced when Aiden’s expressive eyebrows rose to mock him wordlessly.

When Elliott was finally shoeless, Aiden led the way into the airy apartment. It was cozier than he’d have expected such an expensive piece of real estate to be. It had the kind of polished, ultra-coordinated, yet Cheerio-bland vibe of professional decorating, but there were a few more personal touches.

A couple of luridly covered crime novels had been shoved onto a windowsill next to a thriving potted plant. A pair of socks languished under the coffee table. Pictures lined the walls, blown up large so smiling faces took up most of the space.

Several looked familiar, though Elliott didn’t think he’d met any of them. (He could have, given the circles he used to frequent, and might frequent again soon.) The recognizable features meant that some were probably Innes’s nieces and nephews, who he talked about more than he thought he did. The rest would be Innes’s siblings, who he never talked about, even though he worked with some of them.

“I thought we could sit in here,” Aiden said, gesturing to the cluster of couches.

Elliott mentally shook himself back into his professional headspace. He’d learned with Innes that when he was working, he needed to be a different version of himself.

Here, he needed to be a confident, collected man about town, with enough knowledge on obscure topics to make conversation over dinner with anyone, and the experience in bed to please the pickiest partner. The experience part hadn’t been a lie after about a month with Innes. The man had been a good teacher, and Elliott was nothing if not a quick study. What worked with the uncle should work just fine for the nephew.

That thought made Elliott feel gross, and he couldn’t suppress a shudder as he sank onto the plush brown leather couch across from Aiden.

“Are you cold?” Aiden asked.

“What?” There was a special kind of intimidation that wealthy men wielded without thinking, and Elliott was out of practice with it. “No. I’m fine.”

“Would you like a drink?” Aiden put his hands on his knees and froze, like he was fighting every instinct not to go and pour something, anything, in a glass, because that’s what was expected of him.

Elliott shook his head anyway. I don’t drink on the job.”

“No, not— I meant water. Or I have tea. Green or chamomile. I’m out of peppermint.”

Elliott really needed to quit being surprised by Aiden. “Thanks, but no. I’d like to get down to business, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh. Of course.”

Aiden brushed his palms on his pants, then folded them in the air between his knees, then put them back on his thighs again. Watching those nervous hands, Elliott could finally take a full, deep breath.

“Are you still serious about what you said the other day?” Elliott leaned back against the couch. He let his legs relax so they were slightly open. The effect wasn’t quite as good as that scene in Basic Instinct, but he liked to think he was channeling a bit of early-nineties Sharon Stone. “I figured when you didn’t ignore my text that you were. But do you really want an arrangement like what I had with Innes?”

Aiden winced. “I’m not like Innes.”

“I know. If you were, I probably wouldn’t be here.”

Aiden looked up at him, his eyebrows climbing.

“I was the one who broke it off, remember?”

Aiden’s lips twitched in a smile. “I remember. He sulked for weeks.”

“Did he?” Elliott slapped the leather couch cushion beside his knee and forgot about being seductive, bringing up his socked feet and crossing them underneath him, leaning forward like a kid at story time. “That faker, he acted like he was all relieved that I beat him to it.”

“No, he was definitely put out. He had to go alone to the lymphoma research gala, and he was so pissy the whole night that he made a waiter cry.”

Elliott laughed, though he felt bad for the poor waiter. “He would. He likes to deny it, but he actually loves those things. It’s an excuse to get dressed up and pretend he’s better than everyone else.”

“That’s Innes’s favorite thing to do, aside from terrorizing his aides when he’s in a bad mood.” Aiden grimaced. “You might want to avoid them for a while. Last I heard, they were joking about getting your head on a pike for not giving them any warning before you left him in the bad mood to end all bad moods.”

Elliott snorted. “He was probably mad that he had to go out and find somebody new to have sex with on the regular. The man is such a hedonist, he can’t go a week without getting some before he gets whiny.”

The amused half smile at Innes’s expense disappeared abruptly, and Aiden coughed, looking down at the floor. Elliott’s face heated up, and he swallowed a stammering apology that would only make things more awkward.

Blowing out a long breath, he forced himself not to play with the top button of his stiffly ironed collar. There was a reason why he’d bothered with business casual: he’d hoped it would remind him that they were making a new agreement, not reminiscing on old times.

They were never going to get anywhere if neither of them volunteered to start the necessary conversation. All he could do was hope that honesty was the best policy in this case.

“This is weird, isn’t it?”

Aiden huffed a laugh, but his posture eased somewhat. “Yeah, a little.”

“Listen.” Elliott leaned forward again, trying to exude a self-assuredness he didn’t feel. “I thought about coming in here and pretending I didn’t even know your uncle. I could’ve put on an act like I hadn’t done this sort of thing before. But somehow, I didn’t think that would be your style. I thought you’d be the kind of person who wouldn’t want the romantic bullshit when we both know I’m a done deal. Was I right?”

Aiden hesitated, and Elliott’s heart rate rocketed, but he pressed harder.

“Tell me honestly. Would I blow this by treating it as the business arrangement it is?”

Aiden shook his head, but his shoulders were still up around his ears, so Elliott couldn’t be entirely relieved.

“No, you wouldn’t blow it,” Aiden admitted. “I do appreciate you being honest with me.”

He couldn’t quite meet Elliott’s eyes, though, so Elliott pressed, “But?”

The cracking of Aiden’s knuckles was loud in the quiet room. In any other situation, with anyone else, it might’ve been a cheesy-mob-flick move, but Elliott could tell it was a stress relief thing. It must have worked, because Aiden let out a long breath and said, more confidently, “I don’t think what I want from this is what Innes wanted.”

“How so?” Elliott watched as Aiden struggled again, opening his mouth a couple of times, but failing to articulate anything. Elliott helped him out. “Innes wanted a trophy. An attractive statue he could parade around to make the execs uncomfortable at dinner parties. He also wanted sex that fit into his schedule without him having to put in the effort to go out and find someone to take back to his place who wasn’t a thief, a psycho, or a legitimately good person who didn’t deserve to get thrown out on their ass at dawn.”

The description was frank. It was awkward too, and not just for Aiden. But Aiden needed to know how far Elliott was willing to go, and being honest was the only way to do that.

Aiden nodded, ruddy-cheeked. “That’s what I thought.” He looked slightly ill. Elliott didn’t really have any family other than his dad, but he could imagine how much he wouldn’t want to picture his uncle having sex with someone fifteen years his junior.

“That’s not what you want, though?”

“No.”

“So tell me.” He sat through another taut hesitation, deliberately not thinking about the kinky desires that might be keeping Aiden tongue-tied, then bluffed through his unease. “Come on, lay it on me. I promise not to laugh. It wouldn’t be good for business.”

Aiden’s eyebrows knitted up in a glare directed at the floor, but he also relaxed noticeably. It still took him a few long moments, but eventually, he met Elliott’s eyes.

“I want— God, this is so embarrassing. It’s such a rom-com cliché. Innes wanted sex.” He pulled a face. “And I’m not going to lie and say I’m not interested in that, but the fact is, I don’t want to kick you out.”

Elliott was a bit perplexed. Maybe Aiden was working up to the request that needed safewords and negotiations. “What would we do instead?”

A small, soft smile flirted with Aiden’s lips, and he stopped gripping his hands together so tightly and turned his palms toward himself, staring down at them like they’d give him the answers to the universe.

“Cuddle,” he said, at length. “Stay warm under the covers. Get up when we feel like it.”

Elliott sat back on Aiden’s plush leather couch in his swanky high-rise apartment. “You want a relationship,” he said slowly, feeling out the words.

Aiden sighed. “Not really. That’s my problem. I don’t want the stress that comes along with that. Sometimes—most of the time—I will want you to leave, but I don’t want to be worried I’m going to mess things up by asking to be alone. I don’t want to have to worry that I’m not texting you enough, or that my place isn’t clean. I don’t want to have to make conversation if I’m too tired.”

Elliott nodded, a clearer picture starting to form. “So, basically, you want to skip past the dating stage to the meat and potatoes, but not have to give a shit about my feelings getting hurt when you forget to take out the trash.”

Aiden stilled, barely breathing, then tension bled out of his body. “Exactly.”

“Huh,” Elliott said. “You’re right. That is a cliché.”

Aiden huffed a laugh. “God, I know. Busy lawyer doesn’t have the time or the energy to date, pays someone to cuddle with him instead. It’s almost as bad as Pretty Woman.”

Elliott sat up ramrod straight, slapping his hands down on the gleaming black coffee table. “Okay, rule number one: never mention that movie again.”

Aiden’s eyes widened. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you—”

“Something about Richard Gere’s stupid smug face makes me irrationally angry. I can’t stand it. Runaway Bride is just as bad.”

The switch in Aiden’s expression from panicked to annoyed was so fast, Elliott got whiplash, but it was worth it. Aiden shook his head and gave his tiny almost-smile again. Elliott grinned and settled back into the couch, enjoying the buttery leather and plush cushions while he could. He didn’t know if he’d get another chance.

But despite the surprises, he was starting to get hopeful.

He could work with this. It was different from what he was used to, but that wasn’t saying much, since he only had Innes to compare to when it came to being compensated monetarily for sexual favors.

In his limited experience, when people shelled out the kind of money Elliott would ask for, they wanted intimacy far beyond cuddling on the couch. Aiden might want other things too, but if he spent even a quarter of his time with Elliott in a date-like scenario, with snuggling and foot massages, then it’d already be way more than Innes.

“Okay,” Elliott said.

“Okay?” Aiden’s face twitched into a confused frown.

“Yeah, let’s do it. We need to discuss specifics first, some limits, what sort of schedule your bank account will let us set up, all that stuff.”

“Just like that?”

Elliott blinked at Aiden’s incredulous tone. “Yes? I mean, I’m not selling you my soul or running away to Mexico as soon as you give me a lump sum for the whole year. Neither of us are that stupid. What I’m saying is that I’m willing to try it out if you are. If either of us isn’t feeling it by the end of a suitable amount of time—let’s say a month—we can revisit it. But yeah, just like that.”

Aiden nodded, relaxing by another couple of degrees. “Okay.”

“All right. If you’ve finished freaking out, we can talk about what we’re doing here.” Elliott reached into his pocket and pulled out—with some difficulty, since he was sitting—a piece of paper that had been folded into the smallest rectangle he could manage. He spread it out on the coffee table, then turned it so that Aiden could read it. “This is what I’m comfortable doing in bed.”

The list wasn’t long, but neither was it extremely short. He was open-minded, and he wouldn’t be okay with an arrangement like this one if he didn’t like sex, but he was closer to vanilla than to dark chocolate.

“Other stuff is negotiable,” he continued, since Aiden didn’t seem to want to jump in. “But I choose when and how about anything that’s not on that list. Anything that is on there, you can pretty much request anytime.”

Aiden ran his finger down the bullet points, pausing only when he reached the bottom. “Anytime?”

“Within reason. I have classes to attend and study for; I have assignments I have to do. I can’t be swinging from the chandelier until three o’clock every morning. But then, you’ve got a day job, so neither of us are going to go crazy. A few nights a week, you can count on me to be ready and willing to do anything on that list.”

“And if I want something that’s not on the list?”

“Just ask. I’ll think about it, but I reserve the right to say no. I have before, and I will again if I’m not okay with what you’re asking for.” He wasn’t going to judge anyone on what they liked, but Innes’s request for a cop/criminal roleplay had been a complete no-go. Elliott had hung out at the station with his dad as a kid way too often to get off on that scenario.

“Sounds reasonable.”

Elliott reached forward, placing his hand on top of the list and pinning Aiden with the cold, hard stare he’d learned from his father. “And that doesn’t just go for special requests. If I say no, for any reason, I mean it. You push, I walk away, no matter how much money you give me. Got it?”

“Got it.” Aiden stared back, with a stony face he probably used when he told a jury, No, my sleazebag client isn’t a tax evader, he simply likes Swiss banks better than American ones.

“Great,” Elliott said, folding up the paper so the explicit words printed on it weren’t visible, but leaving it on the table. “So what does your schedule look like? Is it consistent enough that we could have a few standing appointments every week? I don’t have class Wednesday evenings, if that helps—”

“We’re actually going to make appointments?” Aiden asked, his incredulity plain.

“Yes, we are,” Elliott said, firmly. “I have a lot of shit I have to get done when I’m not here, so I need to know what my schedule is going to be week to week. Think of it as date night, if you’re having trouble wrapping your brain around it.”

“I guess.”

Aiden was obviously having a hard time grasping how spontaneous Elliott wasn’t. Maybe, in Aiden’s mind, Elliott didn’t have anything better to do than come when he was booty-called, but at the end of the day, this was a part-time job, not a full-time lifestyle, and the ability to control his schedule was reason numero uno for Elliott’s trip down the road less traveled.

What other job—safe and legal one, at least—offered the same kind of money per hours worked? He could flip burgers for hours and never make the amount of cash he did now, and his grades would suffer as a result.

He couldn’t allow that. He needed this to work out if he wanted a home to go back to, and his father to be happy.

“Have you ever had sex with a complete stranger?” Elliott asked. “Or someone you only sort of know?”

“Yes,” Aiden replied immediately.

Elliott blinked, feeling the stirrings of attraction gone dormant with the winter. Since when had he been hot for Aiden’s brand of straitlaced sexual confidence?

“Okay.” Breathing in through his nose, Elliott filled his lungs with bravado and let it speak for him. “Well, you and me, for a while at least, are going to be like that. Don’t make it into a bigger deal than it has to be. You’re not going to be picking me up off a street corner. I’ll come over, like I did today, we’ll make small talk, we might have sex, or we might not. Whatever.”

Aiden nodded. “Fine. It just seems a little . . . businesslike.”

“Well, now we’re back to playing pretend. If you want, I could let you sweet-talk me. I could be coaxed a little more, as long as I get a few promises by the end of today.”

“I can make you promises.” Aiden lifted a hand, loosely curled as if around a thick, heavy pen he was used to holding. “I could draft up—”

Elliott cut him off with a firm shake of his head. “No contract. Not in writing, at least. I don’t want anyone looking my way when your practice gets audited.”

“Okay.” Despite his complaint about how businesslike everything was, Aiden’s eyes had narrowed.

“I’m not a prostitute,” Elliott said. Aiden frowned, then smoothed out his face as he seemed to realize how offensive his disbelief might’ve been. Elliott continued, “Or, more accurately, no court would bother to prove me one, because it’d take way too much effort. It’s basically unprovable unless you confessed to paying me for sex, which you probably won’t do. If your bank records are ever depositioned, all they’ll show is that you’re an extremely generous person who helps his completely legitimate, definitely not contracted lover through school by paying for his tuition and living expenses. That’s why we’re not going to bother with a written agreement.”

He’d never had one with Innes, and he wasn’t going to start now. Research was something he was good at, and he’d applied everything he’d learned about absorbing information and forming his own thesis to create the safest action plan he could.

“That’s smart.” Aiden’s expressive brows had risen over bright, sharp eyes.

“I know. I have to be, doing this on my own.”

“On your own?”

Leather creaked under Elliott’s legs as he wondered how the hell they’d gotten here. “There are services that arrange this kind of thing,” he said, carefully. “Matchmaking, with heavily suggestive wording about what happens after dinner and drinks.”

“Ah.” Aiden winced, and any fear Elliott had about Aiden turning to something like that vanished. “Not your style?”

“Not my budget. They take a cut, and I can’t afford that. Speaking of.”

It was the best segue he was likely to get.

There was a stack of note paper on the coffee table next to a decorative art bowl with nothing in it, and Elliott helped himself to a sheet. With the pen he fished out of his pocket, he wrote a number and monthly on the piece of paper, then slid it, facedown, across the table.

Aiden picked it up, looked at the number with all its zeros, and nodded. “That’s fine.”

Elliott took a quick breath in, his heartbeat speeding up. He’d expected a bit of tactful haggling, which he’d planned to counter with his meticulously crafted budget. He was only asking for what he needed so his dad could make debt payments and he could save for tuition, but he’d thought he’d at least get a pained hiss or a low whistle. “That’s fine”? Not something he’d prepared for.

Aiden must have seen this on his face. “I don’t make the salary Innes does,” he said, wryly. “But I still have plenty. I also don’t spend as much of my money on mani-pedis.”

Elliott laughed. It seemed like Aiden was already unbending a little bit and getting more used to the idea of dating his uncle’s former . . . whatever.

“Great,” Elliott said. “I’ll email you my banking details. You can get your secretary to deal with it, or do it yourself, I don’t care much. I prefer payment on the first of the month for the previous month, but I can work around it if that doesn’t—”

“How do you know I’ll keep my end of the deal?”

“I don’t,” was Elliott’s immediate reply. “That’s why I use bargain-brand shampoo and mooch off my friend’s Netflix. If you change your mind, I need savings to fall back on, since it’s not like I’m going to get two weeks’ notice.”

And he’d never take a lump sum in advance, although he’d keep the reason to himself. He didn’t think Aiden would like hearing how much he hated the idea of being obligated to stick around longer than he wanted so that Aiden could get his money’s worth.

From the deep V of Aiden’s eyebrows, Elliott gathered he was about to argue, to prod further about security Elliott didn’t have. “Not that it’s happening today,” he said quickly, leaving money talk in his dust, “but do you pitch or catch?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Cool,” Elliott said after a brief hesitation. “I prefer receiver to quarterback, so I’ll assume you’re okay with that until you say otherwise.”

“All right.” Aiden tapped his finger absently on the piece of paper with Elliott’s salary on it. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Shoot.”

“Why do you do this?”

Elliott jerked, faltering now that this was going in a direction he hadn’t steered it to. “You know why. I’m in college, and it’s expensive. Most people end up drowning in debt. I don’t want that noose around my neck when I graduate.”

“Is that it, though?”

“What, that’s not a good enough reason?” His grip on the sofa cushion tightened, squeezing the leather and stuffing flat. “I have to be noble, selling myself for an orphaned younger sibling, or you’ll keep asking?”

Aiden looked like he was struggling with himself. His jaw worked and his eyes fixed on Elliott’s collar until some kind of decision was made and he doubled down on his line of questioning. “No, it’s not that. Lots of people go to college without a scholarship, but not all of them do what you’re doing.”

“Don’t you think our economy would be better if they did?”

“I want to make sure I’m not pressuring you. If you’re doing this for school, that’s fine. But is it just for that?”

Treacherous waters lay ahead. Aiden wasn’t buying unrestricted access to Elliott’s personal life, so this wasn’t something to be encouraged, but neither was it smart to be so close-mouthed right away. He didn’t want to scare off his best shot.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he started, because surrendering didn’t mean he had to like it, “but my dad needs help. He’s got a mortgage, and since Mom died, he’s been struggling. I’m trying to make his life easier.”

Aiden’s lips tipped up the tiniest bit, giving him the look of a panther who’d gotten a meager cup of cream. Placated, but not satisfied. “Thank you. If you weren’t helping him, would you still be here?”

“If it was only tuition, you mean?”

Elliott had wondered before. His job solved both his problems, or at least came close. If he only had to deal with one of those things, then would he have gone to measures like this?

He’d never come up with a straight answer, but he knew which one Aiden wanted.

“Yes,” he said, lifting his chin and meeting Aiden’s eyes, trying not to blink. “I’ve got plans for my life that don’t involve being weighed down by money problems. I’d be here if a PhD was my only motivator.”

Regardless of whether it was true, Aiden seemed to accept it. He nodded, and another layer of tension seeped out of his shoulders.

Jesus, Elliott thought, eyeing those hard-looking muscles. How stressed is this guy?

The leather couch squeaked as Aiden’s weight shifted. “So. What now?”

“That’s up to you.”

Elliott got up, walked around the rectangular coffee table, then forced himself between the edge of it and Aiden’s knees. He sat down on it, confident that Aiden would be the type to buy sturdy furniture, and arranged his legs so they were pressed against Aiden’s, knee to shin. It wasn’t sexual contact, necessarily. Shins weren’t inherently sexy. But he’d invaded Aiden’s space, and let his own space become invaded, and that was enough to send a message that what was coming next wasn’t going to involve paper, pens, or numbers.

“I could leave now,” he offered. “Let you digest what we talked about today and get back to me in the next few days. But I don’t really want to. You seem like a guy who sticks to a decision once you’ve made it, and you’d already made your decision before I knocked on the door. Hadn’t you?”

Aiden nodded.

“Okay. So, yeah, I could leave. Or . . .” Elliott slid forward, claiming real estate for himself until he was on his knees between Aiden’s, running his hands up strong, muscled thighs, tauntingly close to the fly of Aiden’s jeans.

Aiden swallowed and licked his lips as he looked down at Elliott, then he croaked, “Or?”

“I could stay.”

Elliott ran his thumb over the thick line of the right inside seam of the jeans. The material was rough against the pads of his fingers, and Elliott wanted to be even more rough with them. It’d been a long time for him, and he’d always loved oral just as much as the tragically closeted jocks in high school had told him he would, with that annoying mouth of his. Joke was on them, though. He was the one having fun, while they were enjoying their lackluster heterosexual college flings and probably flunking Psych 101 for nonattendance.

He dove for Aiden’s fly. Aiden twitched as the button was opened and his hands leaped from the indents they’d made in the leather couch, but he didn’t stop Elliott. He only stared down with his mouth parted, so Elliott quirked an eyebrow to ask: Is this okay?

“Yes. Stay,” Aiden stuttered, his hands fluttering up again, and settling at his sides.

Elliott grinned and slid the zipper down with an aggressive tug, revealing black underwear from a brand even Elliott recognized. After an encouraging push, Aiden reclined to make room.

It was some view. Shoving up Aiden’s shirt revealed an expanse of toned abs—probably part of the reason why Aiden didn’t have the time to waste impressing dates with his hard work—and pulling down the band of his boxers revealed . . .

“Wow.” Elliott leaned back to take it in. He opened his mouth to say something complimentary, but everything he could think of involved a comparison to previous partners, and that was just too strange, considering the last person he had to compare to.

He didn’t have to come up with anything, however, because Aiden stiffened and started to sit up, his jaw set in an uncomfortable line. “Elliott, do you think . . . What I mean is, should we . . . without—”

“Got it covered.” Elliott pulled a condom from his pocket. He wasn’t offended in the slightest by Aiden’s visible relief. They definitely didn’t know each other well enough to put that amount of confidence in their respective sexual histories.

He made quick work of the condom, wrapping his hand around Aiden’s dick and getting him fully hard—“Jesus,” he breathed, while Aiden turned red—then rolling it down to the base. It wasn’t his favorite way to do this, but he was used to the taste of latex. Innes had used to spend a night with a boy toy occasionally, and every time, Elliott had made him get tested before they could do it without the condom again. He’d always had to spend a night on his knees to make up for it.

Before he started, Elliott quashed a bolt of nerves. He’d had plenty of practice, but his pool wasn’t varied, and it had been weeks since the last time. Was he as good as he thought, or fooling himself? Only one way to find out.

It was like riding a bike, apparently.

He went slowly at first, learning the feeling of Aiden in his mouth, but he didn’t speed up by much, like he would normally. Aiden was far from an open book when his pants were on, but with them undone like this, he relaxed enough for Elliott to read him. The times Aiden’s legs tensed or his spine arched weren’t when Elliott took in as much as he could. No, Aiden’s reactions were the biggest when Elliott slowed down, dragging his tongue up Aiden’s length, sucking gently on the head, using all the tricks he knew to draw it out longer.

It couldn’t last forever, though. Elliott had started to wish he’d had the foresight to ask for a pillow for his knees when Aiden’s groans began to sound less ecstatic and more pained. The perfect tipping point. Elliott doubled his pace, using both hands to work the slick surface of the condom and his mouth on the place that made Aiden shiver every time Elliott’s tongue passed over it. It was all over pretty quickly.

Aiden wasn’t capable of being very helpful after, but his stunned inertia was funny, so Elliott didn’t mind finding the nearest trash can on his own. Aiden was back online by the time Elliott returned from throwing out the condom and wiping the plastic taste from his mouth. At least, he was awake enough to snag a belt loop as Elliott went past and pull him closer.

“What about you?” Aiden sounded like he was moving in slow motion. Elliott smiled at a job well done.

“I’m fine. You can get me back next time.” Elliott leaned down and planted a kiss on Aiden’s mouth, making sure to fix the angle, even though Aiden’s head was lying on the couch at a slouching tilt. Upside-down or sideways kissing was always weird outside of movies.

His breathing was as quick as Aiden’s when he finally pulled away, but he still didn’t opt to stay. No, he hadn’t gotten off, but he didn’t really care much since there would be time for that later. Elliott was looking forward to it, and the waiting—that sweet anticipation—was one of the best parts of sex.

“I’ll see you later, Aiden,” Elliott said, and he headed for the door of the apartment.

Aiden mumbled something unintelligible in reply, which made Elliott snort with self-congratulatory laughter. The sound seemed to prod Aiden out of his postcoital stupor because he shook himself, fixed his pants with fumbling hands, and stood up. He hadn’t made it to the door before Elliott was letting himself out, but Elliott caught a glimpse of him just as the elevator doors shut. He seemed a bit stupefied, but in a good way.

Elliott grinned to himself in the middle of a mirrored, gold-paneled box in an apartment building that was way fancier than he’d ever want to live in, and saluted his reflection.

He’d landed on his feet once again, it looked like. He was so freaking lucky to have landed right in the lap of someone who was not only physically attractive, but also not morally reprehensible. He’d gathered that was pretty much unheard of in his field, so he was going to take the gift he’d been given and appreciate it.

The elevator dinged and he stepped out, then he waved to the stone-faced doorman behind the counter. Might as well start to butter up the staff now, since if he had his way, he’d be a regular fixture until he could introduce himself as Professor Elliott Meyer.