Quentin’s mouth found a spot on Augustus’s shoulder, and he sank his teeth in, marking him as his body shook and trembled with his orgasm. Finally, he collapsed on top of him, and they lay together, chests heaving and lungs panting.
“That,” Quentin said, what had to be minutes later, and Augustus still hadn’t moved, “was the single best fuck of my entire life.”
Augustus’s face broke open in a wide smile. He was dirty and cold, and god, everything hurt, but hearing that had been worth it. His smile didn’t waver as Quentin scrambled off him, doing a little sighing and grunting of his own. Yeah, floor fucks were definitely not the most comfortable. Augustus could attest to that. But holy fuck, that had been hot. Insanely sexy. Mind-blowing.
“How are you doing, baby?” Quentin asked, and Augustus took that as a sign he could move.
He carefully rolled onto his back, wincing as his muscles protested. He’d had his eyes closed for so long that he had to blink a few times before they would focus again, and when they did, Quentin looked down on him with amusement sparkling in his eyes.
“You have…” he started, and then he giggled in that sweet, happy way that made Augustus’s belly dance. “You have the imprint of the floor on your skin.”
Augustus sat up, then glanced at his chest. Quentin was right. The wooden floorboards were pressed into his skin, leaving an exact replica of the pattern. He shrugged. “T-t-totally w-worth it.”
Quentin’s face lit up. “Yeah?”
“Mmm.”
“Was it good?”
“P-p-perfect.”
He laughed when Quentin extended his hand. Did he really think that he could pull Augustus up? He grabbed it, then let Quentin bear his full weight. It only took a second before he toppled over, and Augustus caught him, falling backward with him and breaking his fall by letting him land on his chest.
“You did that on purpose,” Quentin accused him, pushing himself up again and meeting Augustus’s eyes. He was laughing, though, so Augustus grinned as well.
“T-totally w-worth it.”
22
It was like an idyllic scene from a movie. Maybe even an old Norman Rockwell painting, aside from the fact that they were two men, of course. They lay on the couch in front of a glowing fire, Augustus stretched out with his head in Quentin’s lap. He’d taken his shirt off at Quentin’s request. It was warm enough so close to the fire, and he loved having free access and touching him everywhere.
He was tired, Quentin could tell. His movements were slower than usual and his eyes sad and troubled. Quentin hadn’t asked him if something had happened. He’d learned that when Augustus was this bone-tired, his reluctance to speak became stronger. It was like he lacked the energy to fight against it and gave in to his desire to stay silent. Asking him what was going on would only make him more stressed, so he wouldn’t. He would simply hold him and be there and wait until he was ready to talk. Or not.
He would read to him on nights like that, hours of quiet togetherness until Augustus’s eyes grew heavy and his body slack. Or Quentin would talk, and Augustus would listen. He’d been guilty about that at first and more than a little awkward. It felt unnatural and selfish to talk and never ask questions, but Augustus had made it clear he loved listening to Quentin. After that, Quentin had gotten over his reluctance, and they’d spent a few nights like this.
“I saw those two guys again, Langley and Alexander,” Quentin said. “You know, at the gas station?”
Augustus gave an almost imperceptible nod, but Quentin was tuned into him now. “Well, you said we were a little short on milk, so I figured I’d pick up a gallon of two percent at the gas station.”
Augustus raised one eyebrow.
“Okay, so I was hoping to run into them. Can you blame me after that first time? I was so freaking curious about what the story was between them.”
Instead of answering, Augustus merely quirked his eyebrow again. Quentin had learned it wasn’t disinterest that made Augustus go into silent mode, and since he understood the reasons, he had no trouble accepting it. The eyebrow meant “tell me more,” and so he would.
“They were arguing when I came in. Something about Alexander having money problems and being too stubborn to ask for help. He’s the guy who owns the gas station. Langley was ripping him a new one, but he stopped once they spotted me. Unfortunately. I was really curious, and I would’ve loved to hear more.”
“L-l-lovers?”
“Maybe. There’s definitely sexual tension between them. If they haven’t had sex already, they will at some point.”
“M-mary’s?”
Quentin nodded. “I spent some time there again as well. It was Wednesday, so the women were hanging out. They were friendlier than last time, smiling at me and shit, so I’m making progress. And Mary already greets me by name when I walk in, and so do her daughters. Both her middle and youngest daughter work in the store.”
He ran his hand through Augustus’s dark hair, so silky under his fingers. Augustus made a soft sound of contentment, and his eyes drifted shut.
“I haven’t told them about my project yet, but I will next week, I’ve decided. I’ve been hanging out there for two weeks now, so it’s time. It will get suspicious anyway if I keep coming back without a reason.”
“O-o-kay?”
Quentin hummed. “Yeah, I think they’ll be okay with it. You never know, but they seem to be pretty friendly and open to strangers.”
Unlike Frostville. God, this town was fucking awful. News of their relationship had clearly done the rounds because he was getting the same treatment as Augustus now. A few days ago he’d gone into the mini supermarket for some quick groceries, and everyone had stared at him. Nobody had said a damn word. What the fuck was wrong with these people?
No wonder Augustus was exhausted. He’d borne their hostility for years now, and even though he seemed to take it all in stride, it had to eat at him. The unfairness of it made Quentin’s blood boil. Something had to have happened today, an incident that had made his burden heavier than usual.
Augustus had looked so sad, so hopeless. Maybe not asking about what had happened today was smart because at some point, Quentin would lose his cool about the whole situation. His temper wasn’t easily triggered anymore, but it was still there…and it could be formidable.
He mindlessly played with Augustus’s lip piercing. “How long have you had this?”
Augustus held up his hand, all fingers stretched wide.
“Five years? Your septum piercing too?”
He nodded.
“The first things I noticed about you were your piercings and your tattoos. Well, the ones I could see with you all bundled up anyway. You looked like a badass mofo, man. I was more than a little scared of you.”
Augustus’s eyes opened, and he turned his head a little to the side and met Quentin’s eyes. “S-scared?”
“God, yes. I cursed that AAA guy ten ways to Sunday when he left me here. You were like the big bad wolf.”
Augustus smiled, then leaned into his touch and licked his hand.
Quentin grinned. “You’re more of a puppy, aren’t you? You appear mean, but you’re just a little puppy on the inside.”