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The rain poured down in rivulets against the cafe’s large picture window, making long streaks of water that obscured the world outside. If he were to capture it in paint he’d make use of shades of gray with pops of color behind it to hint at the beauty beyond.
Of course, Enzo couldn’t look at rain and not think about his first time with Finn, how the rain had poured down in an epic thunderstorm while Finn threw him against the wall and kissed him passionately, soaking wet and all.
“I know what you’re thinking.” His cousin Lydia interrupted his trip down memory lane.
He straightened, nearly upending the hot cocoa he had cupped between his hands as he loitered near the counter where Lydia worked. “What?”
“You’re thinking about painting something. You always get that weird look in your eye like you’re seeing something nobody else is.”
“You got me,” he said, grateful she couldn’t read his mind and pick up where his thoughts had led him. To be honest, if he wasn’t thinking about a painting, he was thinking about Finn.
Finn. His husband. Well, as far as anyone else knew, his fiancé. Finn had proposed right before the world shut down, and they ended up having a quickie wedding over Zoom. It hadn’t felt quite real at the time. Enzo wanted a real wedding, with his family and friends surrounding them. Now that things were different, they never seemed to find the time to talk about arranging something. They were too busy. It didn’t mean he regretted rushing into it. Enzo understood Finn’s worries at the time. Still.
“Well focus up, mister. You’re here to help me put up holiday decorations.” Lydia gestured to the two large boxes taking up one of the customer tables. Luckily the cafe was slow during this bout of winter rain, with only two of their regulars sitting in their usual seats.
“You forget I don’t actually work here anymore.”
Enzo had given up his part time shifts once his art career had taken off. The lockdown had actually turned out to be a boom for him. Many people had decided to redecorate their homes while stuck in them, and his paintings sold almost too fast for him to keep up with the demand. He would have offered some of that money to his aunt, to keep the cafe running, but he hadn’t needed to because his brilliant cousin had come up with coffee delivery, leaving cups of steaming coffee on porches in the early morning hours. It had saved Aunt Rosa’s cafe.
“I didn’t forget. You’re helping out because you’re family.” Lydia took his empty cup and put it in the dirty bin behind the counter.
He got out his phone and pulled up a holiday playlist. “We need some tunes to inspire us.”
“Don’t get all artsy with the garland.” Lydia wiped her hands before coming from behind the counter to start going through the boxes of decorations.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
The music played loudly from his phone as they worked together, every so often getting opinions from Newspaper Bill and Tami, two of the cafe’s regulars. Now that Tami’s son was in school, she visited the cafe with her toddler daughter, instead of both her children. It was still weird seeing her without Scottie at her side. She was also kind enough to hold one end of the string of lights so Enzo could tack it up without it completely unraveling.
“There.” Enzo took a step back, admiring the twinkling along the walls. It gave the entire cafe a lovely glow, like they were temporarily in a fairy land. This would be pretty to paint, maybe from the outside, with shades of his regulars being lit from above. It could be a statement on the artist Hopper, like his painting Nighthawks, only with a Christmas flair.
“You’re doing it again.” Lydia put the Menorah in the window, arranging it carefully. She plugged it in, but didn’t turn it on. They would have to wait until the first night of Hanukah for that – a couple of days away since it fell so early this year.
“Can you blame me? This place provided so much inspiration for me.” He put all the discarded newspaper and cardboard back in the boxes for when they would need to pack all the decorations away again.
She picked up one of the boxes and carted it to the back. He followed with the second, depositing it in the storeroom – the same storeroom where he and Finn had had their first kiss. Enzo’s cheeks heated. It reminded him of another problem, however. “I don’t know what to get Finn for Christmas.”
Lydia shoved the box out of sight, and then turned around with a sigh. “Just paint him something like you do every year. Maybe something sexy.”
Now his face was really burning. “Nope. Not talking about sexy painting with you.”
She laughed. “Does that mean you’ve done that already?”
He dodged the question “I’ve painted something for him every year. Last year’s painting they made the cover for his new book.” Enzo had been particularly proud of that one. He’d had to come up with the concept from nothing more than Finn’s words on the page. It also meant he got first look at Finn’s book before anyone else, even his editor. On the Ranch was a sweet story about two cowboys in love, and it ended far more happily than that other famous cowboy book. The final painting had the two main characters inches away from kissing, the ranch itself nothing more than a background behind them.
“Now there’s an idea.” Lydia gestured to the front and he followed her out. “You should write something for him.”
He snorted. “I can’t write a book in a month.” He wasn’t Finn, aka Morgan Heart, famous novelist. He was Enzo LoBianco, maybe sort of semi famous artist.
She shoved his shoulder. “Not a book. Maybe a story. Maybe a sexy story.”
“Still not discussing sexy things with you!” Enzo grumbled. Yeah, Lydia was twenty-one now, but she’d always be his little cousin. There were some things you didn’t discuss with family.
She giggled with mischief as she went back behind the counter. The front door opened, the bell above it ringing to indicate a customer that she greeted with a wave. “Welcome to Aunt Rosa’s cafe.”
It felt like yesterday that he was the one brewing coffee and pulling espresso. If Lydia needed help today, he wasn’t even sure he still had the skill set to use the espresso machine. Then again, maybe his body would remember if he tried. Enzo was grateful for his time here, but he was thrilled to have moved on.
Once Lydia gave the customer their coffee, he went back up to the counter. “I’m going to head home. Can you give me one of Finn’s favorites to go?”
Lydia nodded, getting to work. While her back was turned, Enzo reached over and tucked a twenty beneath the register, where she wouldn’t notice it until later. She wouldn’t take payment for Finn’s coffee, so he had to find creative ways to pay her.
He accepted the latte and waved as he ventured out into the rain. He got into Finn’s car – their car. Finn had told him to start thinking of the condo and the car as both of theirs. But he couldn’t, not yet. Maybe because they hadn’t had an actual real wedding, one with their family and friends to witness. It still felt fake. They were married on paper, but waiting to celebrate. He’d have to mention it to Finn. Now that things were open again, maybe they could finally have that big reception.
When he got back to the condo, shaking off the rain from his winter coat, a humming sound filled the place. That damn printer was so loud, which was probably why Finn waited until Enzo wasn’t home before he used it. With a grin, he trotted up the steps and poked his head into their shared office/studio space.
“You finished it?”
Finn, who had been hovering over the printer as each page came out, jumped. “I didn’t hear you come home!”
“Maybe you should invest in a quieter printer then.” He held out the coffee cup as a peace offering.
God, in the past few years Finn had gotten only more handsome, especially when his dark blue eyes lit up like that. His brown hair had gone more salt than pepper, but it made him look distinguished, like the crinkle lines around his eyes.
“Coffee!” Finn took the cup and clutched it to his chest before taking a sip. “Ahhh. Lydia made this?”
“It’s disturbing how you can identify who made your coffee by taste.”
“It’s a skill,” Finn corrected. “Besides, nobody makes coffee as good as you.”
“Even the new guy?”
Finn pretended to think about it. At least, Enzo thought he was pretending. “He does have skill; I have to admit that.”
Finn’s eyes twinkled as he spoke and his lips curved into a mischievous grin. If he wasn’t holding a cup of coffee, Enzo would have pounced on him then and there. However, both of them had too much respect for coffee — and the delicate materials in this room — for that.
Enzo gestured to the stack of paper. “You finished the book?”
“First draft only. I still have to go through and do my highlights.”
Because of lockdown, he had gotten close and personal with Finn’s revision process, which involved him highlighting each section in different colors for each character’s points of view, parts with flashbacks and backstory, and parts that moved the plot forward. Enzo didn’t pretend to know how it all worked, but it did for Finn.
“Still. You finished a draft. You know what this means.” He trailed off in a singsong voice, waiting for Finn to pick up on it.
“Twice is hardly a tradition,” Finn protested.
“I’ll get the champagne and meet you in the bedroom.”
“Deal.”
#
WHEN THEY’D MET, FINN had been grappling with the worst bout of writer’s block in his entire life. After a year of no words he’d resorted to drastic measures and found Aunt Rosa’s cafe where the words finally started to flow. Of course, it wasn’t the cafe, but this man who currently lounged naked on their bed, swirling a glass of champagne in one hand and giving Finn a come hither look with those pale green eyes.
If he were an artist, like Enzo, he could capture this image in paint on canvas, a permanent record of such stunning perfection. Instead, he wove his pictures with words, and in any case, this was a moment he’d want to keep private, between the two of them.
He stopped in the doorway, still fully clothed. “You work fast.”
Enzo winked from the bed. “You spent too much time fiddling with your manuscript.”
“The last thing I need is to lose track of pages.” He lowered his voice as he spoke, with each word sliding his hands down his chest, until he came to the bottom of his soft blue sweater. He pulled it up and over his head.
Enzo whistled.
It had taken him time to get used to this, that this much younger, beautiful man found Finn attractive. Hell, it stroked his ego, that he turned Enzo on as much as Enzo did him. He flicked open the fly of his pants with his thumb, mesmerized by the way Enzo’s eyes followed his movements.
There was something to be said for the slow seduction. He left his pants on as he stalked across the room, coming to the edge of the bed. Enzo sat up, setting the champagne flute on the end table.
“Undress me?”
Enzo licked his lips. “Oh, I’ll do more than that, old man.”
“Who are you calling old – oh!” He yelped as Enzo took hold of his hips and pulled him forward, sliding his pants and underwear down enough to free his cock, already hard and wanting.
Enzo slid his lips down on his cock, with slow, practiced movements, looking up at Finn while doing it. He gave in and curled his fingers in Enzo’s soft hair, not pushing, but holding on as he was engulfed in warm wet heat.
Finn didn’t close his eyes. He never did. Every moment with Enzo he treasured not because it could be their last, but because each moment was worth keeping safe in his memory.
Enzo pulled off for a moment. “Stop thinking so much. The book is finished. Let me make you feel good.”
“You always make me feel good.” He crouched down, pressing their lips together. Finn pushed Enzo back onto the bed, taking a moment to kick off his pants, before climbing after him. He never stopped kissing him. Right now he needed to feel all of Enzo against him, every inch of creamy skin.
The rain pounded against the windows, a fitting soundtrack as Finn devoured Enzo’s mouth. Enzo tasted like hot chocolate and smelled vaguely of paint, like always. He slotted himself between Enzo’s spread legs, hissing as their cocks made contact, hot heat that made his toes curl.
Some days he wanted to take his time, map every inch of Enzo’s skin with his tongue, lick him open until Enzo was sobbing with want. But today he wanted them to come together, wrapped in each other’s arms, warm and snug against the cold rain outside. He reached between them, taking them both in hand, already slick from Enzo’s spit and their mingled pre-cum.
Enzo let out a little groan. “Yeah, that’s right, like that. Fuck, more, Finn. More.”
He needed to do a better job if Enzo was still capable of words. He kissed down Enzo’s throat, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh. Enzo gasped in response, thrusting up against him. Now he could work his magic, hips moving in time with Enzo’s as he worked them both with his hand. Enzo came first, with a shout, and that set Finn off.
“So good,” Enzo sighed when Finn returned from the bathroom with a warm wet washcloth to clean him off. “Come here.”
He joined Enzo under the covers, drowsy with the satisfaction of good sex and the soft pitter patter of the rain against the windows. Soon Enzo snored against Finn’s shoulder, but he didn’t fall asleep, not yet. He wanted to look at Enzo, at the way the dimly filtered light cast shadows in his face, turning him into a sculpture.
“Too bad I don’t paint.” He laughed to himself.
Enzo rolled toward him, snuggling close as he threw one hand over Finn’s chest. His left hand, with the gold ring he’d worn since Finn had proposed two Christmases ago. It had functioned as a wedding band, until they could get those matching rings they’d planned on, once they had the ceremony in front of their family and friends.
For Finn it had been enough to have the paperwork in hand, to be married on paper. If anything happened to him, Enzo would be taken care of, and inherit his estate. There wouldn’t be anyone trying to change the facts of his life afterward, to make the public forget he’d come out and proud late in life.
But Enzo deserved a real wedding. One where they got to say their vows in front of their family and friends. Where he could acknowledge Finn as his husband in public. There always seemed to be something else more important – a gallery show for Enzo or another looming deadline for Finn. They were too busy to think about everything that was involved with planning a wedding.
Soon. He would talk to Enzo about it soon. Finn let the thought take him into dream world.