Theo lived in a small brick house on the western edge of Wahredua. It was barely inside the city limits, in what his husband had called the boonies—small houses on big lots, where neighbors minded their own business. Ian had needed to live in the city because he was with the Wahredua police, but in some ways, he was even more of a country boy than Theo, and he’d wanted his space. This house, which needed the tuckpointing done, which needed a new chimney, which needed a lot of patches or, better, a completely new roof, and which cooked like an oven from April to November, had been the compromise.
Saturday afternoon, Theo picked up after himself. He took the dirty clothes to the basement and started the laundry. He swept and mopped the living room and kitchen. He ran the dishwasher. He fiddled with the window unit; he had long suspected that machines only responded to bullies, and so he hammered on the A/C until he thought it was chugging slightly cooler air into the baking heat of the house. He cleaned the bathroom—not that Cart noticed things like that—and then he showered and put on a linen shirt and a pair of what Cart had taken to calling his booty shorts. They were just khaki shorts that came to mid-thigh, but Cart really got a kick out of calling them that. He ran a comb through the bro flow of strawberry-blond hair, wondering if he needed to get it cut, and he was considering his beard, patting it, trying to determine if it was really as fluffy as it looked—and, if so, how to fix that in the next thirty seconds.
Cart’s footsteps moved outside the bathroom, and liquid heat ran through Theo.
“Hey,” Theo said as he went into the kitchen.
Cart was opening a Big Wave, and he glanced over his shoulder. The bottlecap clinked into the sink, and then he took another longer, look back at Theo. He was skinny in the wiry, country-boy way that Ian had been skinny, the hair on his head perpetually buzzed at zero, a little bit jug-eared, a little goofy when he got those huge, shit-kicker grins on his face. He’d changed out of his uniform, and he was in mesh shorts and a Cardinals t-shirt. He licked his lips and wiggled his eyebrows.
“Perv,” Theo said.
“You just get me all hot and bothered.”
Theo crossed the kitchen and pretended not to notice Cart’s moment of hesitation when Theo leaned in to kiss him. Then they were kissing, one of Cart’s hands at the small of Theo’s back, his fingers cold and wet from the beer and pressing hard through the linen.
In spite of Theo’s best efforts to keep things between them at the level of friendship, their relationship had accelerated quickly over the summer. Cart had wanted things to move forward. Theo had, ultimately, allowed things to move forward. He thought about that sometimes when he was up at night, about why he’d let this happen. He thought about the fact that Auggie had stopped answering his texts after Theo told him that he and Cart had begun seeing each other romantically—he refused to call it dating yet. But during the day, it seemed to make sense. Right now, with Cart’s firm touch juxtaposed to gentle, questioning kisses, it made sense.
“You look good,” Cart said quietly when Theo pulled back from the kiss.
“So do you.”
“Nah, I look like white trash. You smell good, too.”
“Thanks.”
“Let me see how you taste,” Cart whispered, and then he kissed him again. He always said those things quietly. He set the beer bottle down, the glass clunking on the counter, and then he had both hands on Theo’s hips, rutting up against him.
“I haven’t started the coals,” Theo said when the kiss broke.
Cart was biting his lip as he shook his head. He undid the button on Theo’s waistband. “Lose the booty shorts.”
Theo forced them down and kicked his way free. He hadn’t bothered with underwear—he knew Cart’s routine pretty well by now—but he still gasped when Cart took him in hand. He had workman’s calluses, and he had strong fingers. Theo moaned when Cart slid a hand under the linen shirt and twisted a nipple hard.
“Fuck yeah,” Cart whispered. “Fuck yeah.”
He manhandled Theo to the couch in the living room, hopping the last few steps so that his shorts and underwear fell around his ankles, and then they made out on the couch, trading hand jobs until Theo got on his knees to give head. Cart didn’t last long after that—he never did, he just gasped and muttered, the words growing louder and more forceful as he lost control, those strong fingers clutching Theo’s long hair. Then Cart screamed, “Fuck, fuck, fuck” and came, and Theo finished himself off with his hand.
Cart helped him up onto the couch, pulling Theo onto his lap, those callused hands tracing Theo’s hip, his belly, his thigh. He kissed Theo’s temple.
“God, I’m so fucking crazy for you.”
Theo just looked up at him and ran his fingers over the buzzed hair. He had learned with Cart not to lean in for a kiss until he’d brushed his teeth.
“You don’t have any idea what you do to me,” Cart was saying, the words rumbling in his chest, vibrating into Theo. “I wish I weren’t such an ignorant fucking redneck so I could tell you how you make me feel.” One of his hands cupped Theo’s dick and balls, and Cart made a noise in his throat.
“How about a practice run?” Theo said.
“Yeah?”
“I think so. You won’t get better if you don’t try.”
“You know how when you’re fishing—”
Theo couldn’t help himself; he burst out laughing, burying his face in Cart’s bony shoulder.
“Well, fuck you, then,” Cart shouted, slapping Theo’s ass a few times.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, God, my poor ass, ok. I’m sorry. Tell me how my blowjobs are like fishing.”
“Not your blowjobs, you hoosier fuck-for-brains.”
Theo rolled his eyes. “You’re losing me.”
With a huge sigh, Cart settled himself, his hand stroking lightly over where he’d spanked Theo. “You know how when you’re fishing, like early, you go out on the water and it’s just barely light, the sun not even up yet, and everything’s quiet, and you think, ‘Yeah, this is it, I could do this for just about forever.’”
“I couldn’t,” Theo said. “I don’t know what it is about skinny country boys, but you’re killing my jaw.”
Cart tried to push him off his lap.
“I’m kidding,” Theo said, laughing as he fended off Cart. “I’m kidding.”
“You’re a rude, uneducated, uncivilized—”
Theo put his hand over Cart’s mouth until Cart settled down. Cart’s dark eyes stared at him.
“That was really sweet,” Theo said.
Cart mumbled something behind Theo’s hand.
“Yep,” Theo said. “It really was. You don’t need any practice. That was perfect. Tell me things like that, and we’re going to do just fine.”
Cart mumbled something else.
Theo kissed the side of his neck, then where his neck joined his shoulder, pulling the Cardinals tee aside so he could kiss lower.
“Am I supposed to be feeling this much?” Cart whispered after pulling Theo’s hand away. “It’s so much sometimes I get scared.”
“You feel what you feel,” Theo said. “It doesn’t have to be anything but what it is. And you don’t have to be scared of it.”
“I am, though,” Cart said, and then he kissed Theo’s temple again.
“Let me brush my teeth,” Theo said. “And we’ll get dinner going.”
In the shorts gathered around Cart’s ankles, his phone buzzed. Theo fished it out for him and passed it over.
“Yeah?” Cart answered. “For fuck’s sake. Are you fucking kidding me?” He listened for a moment. “I’m at the grocery store, dumbass. I’ll be there in five minutes.” When Cart disconnected, he gently nudged Theo off his lap, and then he stood and pulled up his underwear and shorts. “Work,” he said as he adjusted himself. “Another goddamn demonstration.”
“They’ve got a right to be upset,” Theo said. “I’ve been to a few of them myself. We should all be upset.”
“I’m not saying they shouldn’t be upset,” Cart said a little too loudly. “But could they fucking do it when I’m not having a night off?”
“At the grocery store,” Theo said.
Cart wiped his face, staring at his feet.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Theo said. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to pick a fight.”
“Well,” Cart said, heading for the door, “you still said it.”