Luis shook his head. “Not even a little bit.”
“Was there anyone else?”
“No.”
Paolo did the maths. “So is my blowjob-addled brain correct in assuming no one has made you come since before you went to prison six years ago.”
“What makes you think I didn’t score the second I came out?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t think you did. I think taking care of yourself, in any way whatsoever, was the last thing on your mind.”
“You seem pretty sure of how my mind works.”
“Am I wrong?”
“About what? My selflessness or lack of sex life?”
“Both.”
Luis made a low noise in the back of his throat. “Why do you see me so well? I don’t get it. No one else does.”
“Maybe no one else is looking.”
“That’s too fucking true to contemplate right now.”
He was right. Rolling around on Paolo’s bed, clothes disappearing as fast as Paolo could strip them away, contemplating anything that wasn’t making Luis shudder and groan wasn’t going to happen. It had been a hell of a day, and it was turning into a hell of a night, but once Paolo had Luis exactly how he wanted him—naked, on his back, eyes wide with desire—nothing else mattered. He took Luis apart with his hands and mouth, drawing him into a climax that seemed to last for hours. Then, when Luis was done, Paolo came again, painting his belly.
They didn’t shower. Sleep came too easily, and Paolo drifted away with Luis’s head on his chest.
9
It was still dark when Luis woke up. He came to slower than usual and without the kickstart to his pulse. The shot of fear he’d never truly understood. Instead, he opened his eyes to the warmth of another body pressed against him from behind, strong arms wrapped around him, and morning wood digging into his back.
Paolo. He relaxed even more.
Everything was misty, like a dream, but the dick carving a hole in his spine was real. A smile formed even before Paolo’s bedroom took shape. Luis was bone tired, his legs ached, and his eyes scratched like sandpaper, but god, he felt good. For the first time in fuck knew how long, he felt . . . alive.
He felt human.
Human enough that his bladder drove him out of bed and down the hall to Paolo’s tiny bathroom.
Luis relieved himself and stumbled back to the bedroom. You should go.
But Paolo’s sleeping form reeled him in. He hadn’t moved. He was deeply asleep, dark hair a riot that made him even more gorgeous than normal. Luis lay down next to him and brushed it off his forehead. He traced the shadows beneath Paolo’s eyes, wishing them away, and glanced around for something to cover him with. They hadn’t made it into bed. Had passed out sticky and sweaty, kissing until they fell asleep.
Luis had never spent an entire night in a man’s bed. Too busy with thug life for sleepovers. Perhaps he’d missed out on a hundred mornings like this, but he doubted it. He’d never been with anyone like Paolo. No one who saw him like Paolo did. Knew things without Luis having to say them. And fuck, no one had ever touched him like Paolo. Made him shout like that when he came, and the whole world had turned white. Fucking-A, that shit was off the scale.
Hot.
Addictive.
Luis wanted to wake Paolo up and do it all over again, but they were fast running out of time. Dawn was creeping in. Before long, Paolo would be awake, and work would take them away from the quiet sanctuary of his bedroom. Luis had learned to love working at the cafe, but there was something so tranquil about watching Paolo sleep, he didn’t know how he’d ever stop. How he’d ever tear himself away and go back to the real world. The one with bacon sandwiches instead of blowjobs, and awkward customers instead of gentle kisses, and questions that splayed Luis open.
Somewhere on the bed, a phone began to vibrate, softly at first, but then louder, harder, with the added soundtrack of “A Town Called Malice.”
Luis found the phone and shut off the alarm.
Paolo still hadn’t stirred. Luis considered leaving him to sleep a little while longer. Then he remembered the delivery, and the fact that despite exchanging earth shattering blowjobs, Paolo would probably freak if he woke up to find his keys had been lifted and Luis gone.
He settled for stroking Paolo’s face until his eyelids started to flutter. Then he sat back in case Paolo had forgotten he was there.
Paolo’s eyes slid open, heavy and dark. His gaze found Luis in a heartbeat, zeroed in and focussed before it zoned out again. “Damn. I thought you were real.”
“I am real.”
“Really? How come you stopped doing that thing with your thumb on my cheek?”
“You felt that?”
“I think so. Or I dreamt it, which backs up my theory that you’re not real.”
“I’m real.” Luis brought his hand back to Paolo’s face and rubbed his thumb over his cheekbone. “See?”
Paolo made a low sound and closed his eyes. “So last night really did get as out of hand as I remember?”
“Depends on your definition of out of hand. I probably have more scope for it than you.”
Paolo cracked an eye open. “If you say so. What time is it?”
“Half four.”
“Ugh. In my next life, I’m gonna have one of those burger vans outside the pubs. Late nights only.”
“So you’d be going to bed around now?”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have to get up till after Eastenders.”
“You watch that shit?”
“Sometimes, when I visit Toni. He loves it.”
Luis helped Paolo sit up. Like Luis, he was naked. His olive skin and soft, dark body hair were as gorgeous as they’d been last night when he’d had Luis’s cock in his mouth. Fresh heat bloomed in Luis’s gut, but they didn’t have time to fool around—if Paolo even wanted to revisit what they’d done last night. They had a cafe to open.
They took separate showers. Paolo gave Luis a toothbrush and pressed a hooded sweat jacket into his hands before they left the flat with damp hair and shifty eyes. It was cold out. The hoodie was the closest to a coat Luis possessed, and he was glad of it, but it smelt of Paolo, and he was sorely unprepared for how that made him feel. For how his head spun with each breath, and every step they took towards the waiting cafe felt like a seismic shift to a dynamic that had been loaded, even before they’d rolled around on it.
Paolo was quiet. He kept his usual grouchy chatter to himself, but he walked close to Luis, their arms brushing from time to time, so Luis left him alone.
At the cafe, Paolo unlocked the back door and let them in. The fresh delivery was pulling up. Luis went inside and flipped the lights while Paolo signed for it, then set to work putting it away.
When he was done, he moved to the dishwasher to set it up for the day but found it already on and loaded with detergent and salt. He circled the rest of his morning jobs and found them completed too.
Puzzled, he searched out Paolo. He was sitting at his favourite table, scowling at the notebook he used to keep his accounts.
“You’ve done all my jobs,” Luis said. “Why?”
Paolo kept his gaze down as he replied.
Luis frowned. “What?”