“Fucking die, you elderberry-smelling motherfucker!”

“Dude, chill. You’re letting the thirteen-year-old trolls get to you.”

Elliott sighed and dropped his controller into the laundry basket next to him. He flopped back into his beanbag to the soundtrack of explosions and probably the cackling of evil pubescent demons who had way more time to practice their raiding skills than he did. (He had them muted, so he couldn’t know for sure, but he could hear it in his mind.)

“I know,” he grumbled to Kevin’s sympathetic face in the corner of his laptop’s screen. “It’s just a stupid game, but we got murdered hard.”

He made himself feel better by curling up fetal and pushing his face into the beanbag, then regretted it immediately because the smell of Cheeto dust and excess testosterone was overpowering. Its stink wasn’t surprising, considering it didn’t get aired out much. It spent most of its days in the bottom of Elliott’s closet and only saw use when Kevin was up for gaming over Skype.

As chairs went, it wasn’t very practical, but he kept it because it contributed to the general atmosphere of carefree nostalgia that manifested whenever he saw Kevin, even if it was only digitally. He always felt like the twenty-one-year-old he was supposed to be when Kevin spent time with him.

“It’s okay, man, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Kevin consoled him, nodding wisely. “It’s easy to get caught up in the competitive spirit.”

“Damn right.”

“You’re a lot more busy than you were in high school.” Kevin’s voice changed from teasing to disarmingly neutral. “Not as much time to practice, with your classes and, uh, stuff.”

Somehow, Elliott managed not to laugh at the unsubtle transition. “Yeah. That’s true.”

“So, how’s it going with your . . .” Kevin’s face creased like a particularly underweight shar-pei as he hesitated. Boyfriend was apparently too sacred a title for Innes.

As far as Kevin knew, Innes had been Elliott’s long-term fuck buddy, and Elliott was racking up as much debt as Kevin had, but without the guaranteed middling-salaried job at a local veterinary practice right after graduation.

“His name was Innes,” Elliott said, amused. “And we’re not together anymore. I broke it off before Christmas.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you tell me when you were home?”

Kevin’s voice had the same tightness of pushed-down hurt as it had when he’d told Elliott he didn’t care that he’d never met Innes and knew next to nothing about him.

(That was a can of worms Elliott was not willing to open, since he never could come up with a reason why he’d date Innes that wasn’t He’s extremely wealthy, as well as controlling enough to get off on employing someone for regular sex.)

“It was really recent. I was still working through everything and remembering why it was a good thing we weren’t together anymore.”

It was as close to a lie as he’d ever let himself tell his best friend. It would work because it fit right in with Kevin’s adorable world view: casual sex was a myth, all fuck buddies were always secretly in love, and everyone needed someone or they’d be tragically lonely, no matter how many scented candles were lit or body parts self-explored.

“I’m sorry you had a hard time, but this is for sure a good thing. He didn’t sound like a good guy—” He gamely ignored Elliott’s snort. “—and you deserve better.”

“If you say so.”

Kevin gave him a thoroughly unimpressed glance, so Elliott raised his hands in surrender. Far be it from him to disagree with the captain of his personal cheering squad.

Elliott! Elliott! He’s so cool! He is not a total tool!

“Well, you’ve still got some time before Valentine’s Day,” Kevin said, his sudden smile wide in his small space on Elliott’s screen.

“Time for what? Ordering a massive chocolate cake to eat in one sitting?”

“No. Time to get over him. To move on.”

“Oh, I’m over it, don’t you worry,” Elliott said, pulling a face.

“You are single, now, right?”

“Um.”

“No way, Elliott. You’re not dating again so soon.” The look was back, and this time, Kevin managed the disappointed-dad face better than Elliott’s actual father.

“What? I thought that’s what you wanted me to do!” Elliott squirmed in his squishy, Cheeto-y seat. “And I wouldn’t call an entire month soon.”

Kevin’s face blurred on the screen as he shook his head. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it. You need time to get over this. You have to pack up the house you built with your relationship and unpack it in—”

Elliott gagged and flopped off his beanbag. “Stop! Stop, I can’t take it!”

“You’re so immature,” Kevin’s tinny voice came through the speakers.

“Augh, it burns! The maturity, it burns me! The power of Cosmo compels me!”

“Knock it off, you child.”

Elliott could hear the smile in Kevin’s voice, which had been the goal, so he crawled back onto the bag, collapsing stomach first.

“Don’t worry, Kev,” he said, seriously. “I’m over Innes because I was never under him.”

“What?”

“Never mind, that doesn’t make sense.” It was also completely untrue, if he included the biblical definition. “What I mean is that I didn’t have feelings for the guy beyond attraction and award-worthy tolerance of his awful personality. So don’t start thinking that I’m pining for anyone.”

Kevin hummed skeptically. “And this new person?”

Elliott scratched at a tiny burnt patch on the carpet. “What about him?”

“Do you have feelings for him?”

He honked a laugh. “God, no. Well, one, actually. Amazement, at the size of his c—”

“Ew, stop. I don’t want to know.”

Elliott opened his mouth and raised a finger, but Kevin didn’t stop.

“And don’t start with me about it being homophobic not to want to hear about your boyfriend’s dick. I have never described any of my girlfriends’ parts in that much detail.”

Elliott deflated and slumped back into the bag. “Fair.”

“You can tell me other things about him, though. Is he nice?”

Was Aiden nice? He made his living getting shady rich people out of legal issues, and he was morally flexible enough not to mind that paying Elliott for sex was technically illegal. He was also related to Innes, which didn’t recommend him. But the proudly displayed pictures in Aiden’s apartment of his sisters in graduation caps told a different story of his character.

“Yeah, I think he is,” Elliott said, with more hope than hard evidence. “It’s too soon to tell. And don’t start getting ideas about meeting him or adding him on Facebook or something. We’re not serious. He doesn’t want lovey-dovey shit any more than the last one. Or me, for that matter.”

Kevin nodded sadly, and Elliott had to look away from his computer screen. It said something about Elliott’s dating history that Kevin didn’t even try to argue anymore. He’d finally learned, after Innes and the short string of pointless hookups before him, that it was useless to try to convince Elliott that he totally would like his alone time filled up, his independence stolen, and his heart broken. Elliott was surprised to find that he missed having the debate.

And there sure wasn’t anyone else around he could have it with.

“Does this guy know you just got out of a relationship?” Kevin asked.

Elliott snorted. “Oh, yeah. Definitely.”

Kevin narrowed his eyes. “Do I want to know?”

“Nope.” Elliott flipped around, wiggling until he found a position that didn’t make his back hurt. Stupid impractical beanbags. “You really don’t, and I wouldn’t tell you if you did, because it would probably change your mind about me deserving better.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” Kevin ignored Elliott’s disbelieving huff. “Everyone deserves to be loved.”

“Ack, the pain! Wisdom is my only weakness!”

“Shut up and play, you goof. You’re starting to sound like the thirteen-year-olds who thrashed your ass.”

“Oh, you bastard. That’s it, you’re going down.”

Playing with Kevin like this was totally worth putting off a few piles of reading he had to do. It was a melancholy kind of happiness, a carefree moment that contrasted sharply with the specter of his rigid ten-year plan and measures he’d taken to make it happen. The innocence of it all made his life seem a lot more sordid.

He didn’t hate himself for what he did. Far from it. He had a pretty healthy relationship with the profession he’d fallen into, mostly because he’d chosen the job himself. He knew how privileged that made him, and he didn’t take it for granted. That life wasn’t for everyone, for good reason, but he was doing okay because he was realistic enough to be able to make off-color jokes about Pretty Woman.

“I saw your dad yesterday,” Kevin said, yanking Elliott’s thoughts from one extreme to the other.

Elliott mashed his keyboard buttons without pausing. “Oh?”

“At the grocery store. He told me about your basement.” The game lay forgotten, the music still playing. “That’s tough, man.”

“Yeah. Did he mention whether the insurance company has called him back?”

“Nah. Last I heard, he was still bailing out the water and waiting for the phone to ring.”

Elliott perched higher on his beanbag, but it immediately sank down under him. “I keep meaning to call him myself. I still can’t believe what a mess it is. I’ve only seen pictures, but it’s bad.”

“Yeah. Not that surprising, though.” A hollow, plasticky noise clicked across the computer connection as Kevin fidgeted with his mouse. “From what your dad was saying, all of those pipes are as old as the house. One of them was bound to blow sooner or later.”

“I guess. Bad timing, is all. The roof will probably have to be fixed soon if the window in my room keeps leaking.”

“Your dad’s pullout couch is calling your name,” Kevin teased—as if Elliott didn’t know full well that he’d be staying in Kevin’s spare room next time he came to town. “Home, sweet home.”

“Yeah.” Elliott smiled for the low-res camera so Kevin wouldn’t see how hard he was trying not to think about the crumbling Corinthian porch columns his mom had been so proud of.

“You should visit him again soon.”

“I know.” Christmas was starting to feel like it’d been months ago, rather than weeks. “I’ll try, but with midterms, I’ll be—”

“I get it. We just miss you when your head is buried in exams. Don’t drop off the face of the earth this time, okay? Or I’ll start mailing you condoms and Valentine’s cards until you pay attention to me.”

“You fiend! One more round, I swear this time I’ll finish you.”

Elliott’s mood was boosted high until Kevin signed off. It was hard to feel isolated when the presence of his best friend still filled his small room, but after the screen went black, he spiraled like he usually did when Dad or Kevin called and asked how he was doing.

It wasn’t just the empty room that pulled him back to earth. It was the overthinking too. Their possible reactions to his present choices played over again in his mind: explosive and angry, or chilly and disgusted by turns. Today it was worse, with Kevin’s disappointed face fresh in his memory.

What made this one of his top ten waking nightmares was that those negative reactions were the most likely to happen. At the very least, Dad and Kevin would be upset—he knew they hoped for better for him. There wouldn’t be much he could do to change their mind, to tell them that it was the best thing he could possibly do to make sure he and Dad didn’t have a cent to worry about paying back when he finally started taking money from an accredited college instead of paying it.

Instead of stewing about it, he distracted himself by reading, and he got a bit of research done for his next paper. He had weeks before he’d planned to start it, but the topic—the actual war 300 was based on—was to die for. (It was hard not to feel bad for anyone who thought the movie was more fascinating than what actually happened.) He was interrupted by the rumbling of his stomach and the buzzing of his phone with an incoming text.

He dealt with the hunger first, grabbing an age-speckled banana from his “adult food” stash to counteract the junk fest of his afternoon. His finger dragged a smear of sticky banana mush across the screen of his phone as he opened the new text.

You said you were free Wednesdays.

It wasn’t exactly a question, but he answered Aiden anyway. Yeah. You want to meet?

He bit his lip. After the success of yesterday’s meeting, he was actually excited at the prospect of his first “date” with Aiden. They were about to enter into Elliott’s favorite stage of any relationship, however casual. The first sexual encounter was over with, and any last-minute insecurities had been shoved to the back burner and replaced by the sweet, sweet anticipation of getting into the groove of each other’s rhythm. And Aiden seemed the type to cha-cha real smooth.

His phone beeped again.

Aiden: Only if you’re free.

Elliott rolled his eyes. I said I was. Your place, 7 too early?

Aiden: No, 7 is fine. See you then.

Just like that, it was in his calendar, and he was bumping up the laundry that he’d planned to do on Wednesday to earlier in the week, so he could do a different kind of bumping. Elliott looked down at the barely touched banana in his hand and smirked at its frowny, bruised, judgmental face.

“Knock it off,” he told it. “You wish you were getting the action I’m about to.”

Then he threw it away and finished the bag of Doritos instead. He could go back to being an adult tomorrow.

Aiden answered the door on Wednesday wearing tight-fitting black boxer briefs and a soft-looking white T-shirt that was so thin Elliott could see the dark shadow of his belly button through the worn fabric.

“Wow,” Elliott said, rocking back on his heels to take in the view. “You weren’t kidding about letting it all hang out.”

Aiden gestured him in and closed the door behind them. “No, I was not. I can’t tell you how much of a relief it is not to have to put on pants.”

“I get it. Lazy pj days are the best days.”

Innes’s pajamas, the couple of times Elliott had seen them, had been made of actual silk. Of course they had been. But Innes was more likely to stay in his fancy tailored suit until the moment he got into bed and not bother to put a layer in between him and his Egyptian cotton sheets.

Elliott grimaced at Aiden’s back as he was led to the living room. He really needed to stop comparing Aiden to Innes. They were related, had the same profession, worked at the same office, and wore the same label of fancy tailored suits, but Elliott was coming to see the little differences. Like lazy pj days. And the bottle of water that was sweating a ring directly onto the coffee table in the living room.

Elliott ignored his urge to find a napkin to wipe up the mess. (Intellectually, he didn’t give a shit if there were rings on the table, but his great-aunt Harriet had done her job of teaching him how to take care of furniture well. Too well.)

Aiden didn’t waste any time getting—even more—comfortable on the fluffy leather couch in front of the expensive TV mounted on the wall. Elliott found himself hovering a few feet away, shocked silent. He checked his phone—the international symbol for I’m uncomfortable and looking for a distraction. It was 7:02. He’d officially been fully clothed and upright for a minute longer than he’d expected.

“I gotta say, I feel a little overdressed,” he said, on a laugh that he hoped didn’t sound forced.

Aiden’s response was to reach for the remote, then he settled deeper into the couch. “Don’t worry about it,” he said brightly, with a small smile that changed his face. “I’m not going to.”

“Cool,” Elliott said slowly. “So, is this a good time? Or should I come back—”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. That’s not what I meant.” Aiden sat up and shifted his lower half a couple of inches closer to the arm of the couch. “Would you sit with me? I’ve been meaning to watch this movie for forever.”

Elliott sat down immediately, relieved to have a place to be. He didn’t leave any room between himself and Aiden, who seemed to like that just fine, since he wrapped an arm around Elliott’s shoulders and left it there.

Aiden clicked through his Netflix queue with the remote, found the one he’d been dying to see, and pressed Play. The first five minutes of the movie were promising. Elliott had heard of it when it came out and been intrigued, so he was entertained. But he found it a little difficult to stay focused when Aiden’s mostly naked thigh was pressing against Elliott’s clothed one, and . . . not doing anything else.

Aiden was absorbed in the action, apparently, and seemed to have forgotten Elliott was even there, going by the blank, relaxed look on his face. Elliott subtly watched him for a few more minutes, waiting for some indication that he was supposed to be doing something other than sitting like a lump. It was easy work, and he didn’t mind doing it, but the work ethic his dad had taught him through strict chore schedules, report card appraisals, and after-school volunteering prevented him from simply relaxing and enjoying the easiest shift ever.

He couldn’t stop calculating how much he was earning, breaking the monthly number down in his head, by day, then by hour, then by minute, watching the cents Aiden was paying him slip away.

“Seriously?” Elliott finally burst out, during an excruciatingly quiet point of the movie. “You’re actually going to give me money to Netflix and chill with you?”

Aiden reached for the remote, paused the movie, and calmly looked down at him. “Yes. Problem?”

Aiden had told him he wanted all the perks of a boyfriend but without the inconvenience or emotional entanglement. So, why was he thrown off by Aiden keeping to his word? He supposed he’d been prepared for Aiden’s version of a boyfriend to be a person he fucked more than a single time. Which made no sense, because he remembered teasing Aiden about the cute, couple-y things he wanted to do with a guy who was paid to do it.

“Nope,” he blurted. “No problem at all.”

He settled back in and tried his best to let his anxiety go, to enjoy the proximity of a warm, attractive body like most people would, but he couldn’t, and apparently didn’t do a great job of hiding it, because they only got through a couple of scenes in the movie before Aiden paused it again.

“Okay, this isn’t working,” Aiden said.

Elliott’s panic flared, and he immediately started calculating whether he could afford to spend another few weeks searching for the least-creepy guy on the short list of people who’d be willing to pay for his ass. It didn’t look likely.

He rushed to fix his mistake. “I’m sorry I’m being weird, ignore—”

“It’s fine. I think you need to understand how much I’m enjoying this.”

Elliott blinked at Aiden’s emphatic tone.

“Here’s the thing,” Aiden explained. “Watching TV used to be a family event for me. We’d get everyone together, take turns picking what to watch, share a big bowl of popcorn. It was fun. College was like that too, only . . . different.”

A hint of a blush rose on Aiden’s artfully scruffy face, clearing up what kind of different it was. With Aiden’s good looks, he must have had his pick of people who’d “watch a movie” with him.

“I have a lot of memories that start with turning on the TV and getting comfortable,” Aiden continued, “and that’s probably why I never feel more lonely than when I’m watching TV by myself. I’m too wiped after long days to do emotionally complicated, so I don’t want to go out. But if I got a friend or someone to come over, I wouldn’t be able to use my free time to relax the same way as when I’m alone. So, this works, and I don’t mind that I’m paying for the privilege of not feeling like a complete loser for watching Die Hard for the fifteenth time alone in my underwear.”

Elliott could picture Aiden when he was younger, hanging out with his siblings, then later, at his fancy school for prelaw, stealing an hour to be a young, hot guy with game to spare. And he got why Aiden didn’t want to do it by himself. Elliott didn’t play video games without Kevin for the same reason.

“Okay,” Elliott said.

Aiden smiled slightly. “Not to mention, this outfit might be comfortable, but it's not exactly sweltering.”

Elliott laughed, picturing Aiden hugging a hot water bottle in the middle of summer with the cool air on full blast. “Well, then. It’s my solemn duty to cuddle you for warmth.”

He started to shift over, but at the last second, he paused and made a decision. He stood and undid his jeans, pushing them down and tossing them over the other end of the couch. His boxers were a lot looser than Aiden’s, but they were still fairly new and presentable since he hadn’t expected to be wearing much more than them for so long.

He plastered himself to Aiden’s side this time, snuggling in and making sure there was as much of them touching as possible. The movie started again, and then Aiden reached down and scared the shit out of Elliott by popping out the footrest.

“Look at you, big spender,” Elliott said, smirking. “The height of luxury.”

“You should see the cupholders.”

Elliott laughed, then something exploded on the screen, and they were both distracted. Paying attention to the movie was easier now that he didn’t have to worry about what was expected of him. He had to crane his neck a little bit to see the screen since he was so attached to Aiden, but it was worth it to feel Aiden’s chest as he let out a monster sigh of relief and comfort. Within a few minutes, Elliott had arranged them so their legs were tangled together and they’d reached optimal levels of skin-to-skin contact.

Elliott was good at cuddling. He knew it, Kevin knew it, and a few random people in attendance at Elliott’s after-prom party knew it as well. He knew just how often he had to move so that they didn’t get sweaty or have their extremities fall asleep. He had long, thin limbs that looked like they should have been too pointy, but they made up for that slight disadvantage by being able to wrap around someone like a warm, easygoing octopus.

The rest of the movie was good, too. Not the best he’d ever seen, but entertaining. They weren’t completely silent throughout—Elliott never could keep his commentary to himself, which was why he preferred watching movies at home—but the longer the movie was on, the less Elliott felt like he had to speak. Aiden was as laid-back as Elliott had ever seen him, which made Elliott relax even more.

This could work, he thought, and finally convinced his brain to stop drawing up Plan B through J in case Aiden cut him loose and he was back to square one.

When the movie was over, he untangled himself and got up, since no amount of adjusting could keep him from getting antsy for that long.

“There’s water and other stuff in the fridge if you’d like some,” Aiden offered, stretching his own legs, and drawing Elliott’s eyes to his powerful quads.

Jeez Louise. Elliott made it to the gym a couple of times a week himself, but he’d always tended toward leanness, rather than muscle-y and broad like Aiden. He was fine with their differences, especially since he was the one who got to see instead of being seen, but he felt almost bad about how hard he was objectifying Aiden. Almost.

The kitchen was easy to find, and like the rest of the apartment Elliott had seen, it was clean, simply outfitted, and shiny with chrome. He opened the monster-sized fridge right as he heard Aiden get up from the couch in the other room.

It was as spotless inside as it was outside, but that wasn’t what drew Elliott’s attention. He was mostly interested in how little there was in it. Water bottles lined the bottom shelf, and the door was stuffed full of condiments, but two-thirds of the remaining space was empty. The last third, the shelf at eye level, was taken up by neatly stacked plastic containers full of food. They were a little like homemade Hungry Man dinners, meticulously packed and ready to go, with labels showing the contents and a best-before date. It was pretty impressive, actually.

Aiden came up behind him. “The water is— Oh, you found it.”

“Um, yeah.” Elliott shook himself out of his envious daze and helped himself to a bottle, then pointed to the open door and fumbled, “What is—”

“Oh, yeah. That.” Aiden reached over him and pushed the fridge closed firmly, then coughed. “I didn’t make those. I don’t like cooking because it takes too long.”

“So, you have a personal chef?” Who was a master at meal-planning, apparently.

“Not exactly. A friend of mine is a stay-at-home dad who cooks for his family every day. I pay Vernon generously to make twice as much as he needs, and a couple times a week he brings over the leftovers he froze. It’s a win-win situation.” Aiden sounded like he was having an argument he’d had a hundred times before. “He makes money for doing something he was going to do anyway, and I don’t have to live on takeout. It’s hard enough to keep in shape with the hours I work.”

“Cool.”

“Cool?”

Elliott nodded. “Yeah. It’s a good idea. Convenience is most of the reason why I still live in the dorms. Like, I could cook for myself, but why bother when I’m happy eating the dining-hall food?”

Aiden smiled, his shoulders untensing. “Exactly. I’m fully capable of not starving. This is just easier.”

“I totally get that.”

Aiden helped himself to his own bottle of water, and they sipped in silence for a few minutes. Elliott was starting to wonder if he should make some kind of move when Aiden twisted the cap onto his drink and suggested they watch something else.

They ended up in the same position as before, but this time, Aiden chose a movie Elliott had seen. His attention drifted away from the movie periodically, which was probably why he noticed the difference in Aiden. Before, he’d been completely relaxed, almost melting into the buttery leather couch. He’d allowed Elliott to place him where he wanted him, clearly basking in the presence of another living human.

This time, there was an unmistakable tautness in Aiden’s body. He’d directed Elliott’s arm higher a couple of times, and was twisting his body away from Elliott’s hip in a way that must have been uncomfortable—

Elliott was such a dumb ass.

He reached over Aiden for the remote on the end table, unconcerned that his torso was covering the screen. Aiden didn’t protest, just looked at him questioningly. He paused the movie, and his face must have given him away because by the time he’d twisted in Aiden’s loose hold and faced him, straddling his legs, Aiden didn’t seem confused at all.

Aiden’s hands automatically came to his waist to steady him, even though he hadn’t lost his balance. Elliott smirked. If Innes hadn’t already told him, he would still have bet money he didn’t have that Aiden was bi. The hands circling a tiny waist thing was something Elliott used to do, back when he’d had lackluster makeouts with girls in closets in high school. Now that he was a solid Kinsey five, he didn’t go in for things like sensual hair stroking or delicate touches. There were probably men in the world who liked those things, but they weren’t the men who Elliott was having sex with.

Elliott dipped his head and kissed Aiden properly and forgot everything he was thinking. It was nice. Better than nice, and it got better the longer Aiden let him have control. They made out, slow and lazy as though they were a couple of teenagers who had the hotel room until 11 a.m.

Aiden was an exceptional kisser, Elliott found out, once he’d been given the time to gain confidence. His hands, when they left Elliott’s waist, were sure and warm, and they took their time sliding up and down Elliott’s back. It said something about how touch-starved Elliott had gotten that the press of fingers through the cotton of his T-shirt could get him revved up.

When his lips were tingling and hot from kisses and the scrape of Aiden’s facial hair, he pushed himself up and stumbled onto his feet. Aiden watched him as he peeled off his shirt and tossed it to the end of the couch with his jeans. He stared intensely as Elliott fingered the band of his boxers, drawing out the reveal.

He didn’t have anything special to gawk at. If anyone asked him to describe himself, he’d say he was pretty average, looks-wise. But he’d learned firsthand how large a role confidence and bluffing played in attractiveness. In that moment, he believed wholeheartedly in his own appeal, so Aiden must have too, or he wouldn’t have looked like a thirsty canine when Elliott’s boxers finally hit the floor.

With Elliott's help, Aiden’s joined them, along with his shirt, but it wasn’t a quick process. While the reclining sofa was comfortable, it would’ve been a lot easier if Aiden had stood up. Elliott loved a challenge, though, and the bonus was that when Aiden had finally lost his clothes, Elliott was in the perfect position to kiss his way up Aiden’s hard stomach. It was extremely difficult for him to stay north of Aiden’s navel, but he didn’t want to fall into a routine. Besides, he could still remember how Aiden’s dick had felt in his mouth, and he had a few other places he wanted to feel it in before he started repeating himself.

Aiden, the good man, followed Elliott’s lead, staying still while Elliott settled. Elliott was starting to see a pattern there. Aiden let himself be led up until a certain time, at which point he’d start taking a bit of control. It was a fantastic push and pull, and Elliott wanted more of it. He wanted to see how much he had to push before Aiden would stop pulling.

When his legs were on either side of Aiden’s, Elliott kissed him again, then grabbed Aiden’s hand and guided it to his ass, right to his rim, where—

Aiden’s fingers spasmed and withdrew. “When did you—” Aiden sputtered.

“Before I left home. It’s been a while, though, so go slow.”

Aiden’s tongue peeked out to wet his lips, and his cheeks reddened. “You didn’t have to do that yourself,” he said, his voice lower and rougher than it had been earlier.

“You’re paying for convenience, right?” Elliott quipped, then he tried to move Aiden’s hand to where it had been, but Aiden had gone stiff. His face shut down a bit, not frowning, but carefully blank. Elliott’s stomach clenched. He was going to get abs like Aiden’s if he kept making Aiden so uncomfortable.

“Would you mind not bringing it up like that?” Aiden asked, not meeting his eyes.

“Uh, sure.” Elliott couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t weirded out. “But are you sure, though? Like, this is what it is, and not mentioning it isn’t going to make it—”

“No, no, I know that,” Aiden assured him, and he sounded panicked enough that Elliott was inclined to believe it. “I’m not romanticizing you or anything. I don’t know if anyone could.”

“Hey, watch it.” Elliott smirked, relieved, and gave Aiden’s jaw a tap.

Aiden grinned and batted his hand away, then his face got serious again. “So, yeah, I’m good. But it just kind of—” He stopped, shook his head. “I don’t know, it’s stupid, forget I said anything.”

He leaned in for a kiss and stroked his hands down Elliott’s sides. Elliott shivered, but turned his head away. He was way too jittery right then to enjoy it.

“No, I get it,” he said. “It ruins the mood. I totally ruined the mood.”

“No, it’s fine. We can get there again.”

Elliott let Aiden kiss him this time, and as if Aiden had read his mind, he took charge right from the beginning. His hand came up to hold Elliott’s jaw, tilting his head and devouring Elliott’s mouth until he forgot to be worried. Until he had no reason to be worried because the mood he was afraid they’d lost bounced back, like the trooper it was.

They only stopped making out when Elliott couldn’t stop gasping at Aiden’s searching fingers. He buried his face in the crook of Aiden’s neck as Aiden finished working him open, made easier by the slow half hour Elliott had taken before he’d left the house, weak-kneed and ready for anything. He moaned as the fingers probed deeper, but it was too awkward an angle to be truly satisfying, so Elliott pushed Aiden’s arms off of him with one last, breathless kiss and reached for his jeans on the other end of the couch. The condom was right where he’d left it, in his pocket with some extra lube that they’d definitely need.

He peered at Aiden, intending to make a joke about what size of rubber he wanted out of Elliott’s extensive (imaginary) collection, but two things stopped him. First, he remembered that Aiden didn’t want to be reminded at each turn that Elliott was used to casual sex in every regard. Second, Aiden’s expression took the words out of his mouth.

Aiden’s eyes were heavy-lidded, roaming ceaselessly over the expanse of Elliott’s twisted body. His mouth hung open, closing only briefly so that he could swallow deeply, then falling open again.

Elliott almost hated to move and spoil the view, though he wasn’t sure what was so enticing about his bony rib cage and pink-flushed neck. But Aiden didn’t lose the look even while Elliott knee-walked over his lap, stilted, but eager. That probably had something to do with the fact that he was doing it to reach Aiden’s cock, and started stroking him lazily, using the pre-come that had gathered at the tip to swirl his thumb around the head with no resistance.

When Aiden’s hips began to buck slightly with every pull, Elliott rolled on the condom with practiced ease, then drizzled lube over top. Messy, but effective. Aiden watched him do it all, not offering to help but clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides like he wanted to. He did steady Elliott when he struggled into place, which was appreciated. It took Elliott a minute to predict where he needed to be to get the right angle, but until he was sure, Aiden was patient.

“Go slow,” he said again as he sank down on Aiden’s cock, even though he was going to be the one doing the lion’s share of the moving.

Or so he thought. Aiden stayed still for a while, silent except for a rough exhale of breath every time Elliott jerked out of rhythm and moaned from a brush near his prostate. Then, without any warning, Aiden slid down lower in his seat and gripped Elliott’s straining thighs, his fingers denting the skin as they held him in place.

A whine was punched out of his throat when Aiden’s hips slammed up into him, using the leverage he got from the footrest. Elliott’s head fell back as Aiden kept up his momentum, taking over and giving Elliott a break. Sort of. He’d been a bit fuzzy from the burning in his thighs, but with Aiden taking a turn, he was very fuzzy from the pleasure, first from Aiden’s cock hitting all the right places, then from his own hand on his dick.

The time for slow was over.

“Faster,” Elliott panted. “Come on— Yes.”

Aiden sped up, and his breath started to come out in near subvocal growls that sent electric sparks up Elliott’s spine. Aiden finished first, his hips crashing up suddenly and stilling, a groan tearing from his throat, the loudest sound he’d made the whole night.

Elliott kept up a steady, lazy motion of his hips until Aiden had melted into the couch. He hesitated for one uneasy beat. Should he finish himself off, or wait for Aiden to recover and return the favor? Did Aiden care whether or not he came? The point of Elliott being here was so that he didn’t have to worry about the tit-for-tat grunt work of a real relationship, so did that extend to mutual orgasms?

Elliott didn’t have to worry for long, because Aiden came back to himself a bit, sorting out his limbs, then fisting Elliott’s dick where it had been resting, leaking a tiny patch of pre-come on Aiden’s stomach.

Aiden didn’t waste time teasing. He set a rapid, jerky pace that had Elliott’s tired thighs bunching with pleasure as he surged to a height that forced Aiden’s softening cock to slip out of him. It was a weird, half-remembered feeling, but it was what made him tip over the edge; the familiar sweet soreness and slide of lube that hadn’t evaporated.

He spilled on Aiden’s abs, adding to the mess already there. At least we only have one place to clean, he thought, a bit hysterically, high from endorphins and the loosening of taut muscles.

Aiden didn’t seem to be in any more of a hurry than Elliott was. Only when sweat began to chill and itch did Elliott untangle himself, flopping next to Aiden on the couch and grabbing his T-shirt to use as a towel for his face and neck. Tomorrow, he’d be groaning every time he had to bend over or climb a set of stairs, but it was worth it.

Screw deadlifting. Good sex was easily the best way to get in leg day.

Out of nowhere, Aiden released a huge, happy sigh and said, plainly, “Fuck.”

Elliott couldn’t help but laugh in a loud burst. “Yeah, same,” he said, when he was done.

Aiden got up and left the room, and Elliott heard a toilet flush a minute later. When Aiden came back, Elliott took his turn, then returned to the couch to find that Aiden had resumed optimal Netflixing position.

“Do you want to go right away?” Aiden asked, giving himself away by fingering the remote control.

“Not unless you want me to.” Elliott couldn’t get into the habit of staying late on weeknights, but for their first real date? He could make an exception. Besides, they hadn’t finished the movie they’d been watching before they’d gotten distracted.

“I’m okay with you staying, if you don’t mind.”

“I really don’t.” He climbed onto the couch, reattaching himself to Aiden’s side in a way that was starting to feel routine. “Play away. I’ve got all night.”

The movie was okay. The company was better. The afterglow lasted until the end, at least for Elliott, and he was willing to bet for Aiden too.

“This was nice,” Aiden told him, out of the blue about fifteen minutes before the end of the second movie.

“I’m glad.”

The rest of the evening was just as nice. They watched thirty minutes of some period drama before they both confessed that it was boring as shit and decided to mute it and make up more interesting dialogue for the characters. It was late by the time they were finished and highly amused with themselves, so Elliott elected to stay over.

The only snag came when they realized how painful it was going to be to get unstuck from the leather of the couch. But that was solved with the incentive of another piece of furniture Elliott had yet to try out: Aiden’s bed.

(Its score: A-plus, 10 out of 10, would give a blowjob and get spooned in it again.)