I should let my sub make breakfast.
“Am completely capable of watching you cook.” He shook his head at himself. Dork.
Troy smiled at him. “You can find some music for us, if you don’t mind. Oh, and tell me all about your coffee preferences. I’m the tiniest bit of a coffee whore.”
That was easy. He was particular about his morning coffee. “I’m not opposed to a sweet something in the afternoon or evening but my morning coffee needs to be dark, strong enough to take paint off your truck, and with just a splash of milk. Preferably skim. And in the biggest mug you have.” He headed for Troy’s stereo setup. “Great speakers. I see where your money goes.”
“I don’t have a ton of vices, and I haven’t smoked in a year. Fifteen dollars a day saves up fast.” Troy moved around the kitchen easily, the scent of coffee filling the air.
Saul found some Clapton and put it on, the guitar and soulful voice meant to suit the Dominant vibe he was reaching for. They had some talking to do, potentially some negotiating, and he needed to do it in the right frame of mind.
The clothing strewn all over the sofa, the floor, and the coffee table worked against his mood a bit, but he just let himself laugh and started tidying up. It would be hard to have a serious talk over socks and boxers.
“Coffee smells good.”
“Thank you, Sir. Here you go. Dark, splash of skim, big mug.” Troy didn’t sound sarcastic or anything but happy.
He took the mug and cupped a hand around Troy’s nape, keeping him there. “Wait.” He took a sip, the rich bitter taste giving him that mental slap in the face he liked. He winked. “Pretty good. Thank you, boy.”
It was pretty perfect, in fact, but saying so right out of the gate didn’t give Troy anything to think about.
“Good deal.” Troy gave him a little pressure, leaning into his hand.
After a quick squeeze he let go. “Clapton work for you?” He wandered over to a window and looked out, very much enjoying his coffee.
Troy hummed along with the music, and he could see Troy wandering around the kitchen, almost dancing.
Saul left him to it and didn’t bother him with small talk because he seemed so happy. Not that he’d seemed unhappy the past few times they’d been around each other, but he’d been head down and working at the diner, and then Friday night Troy had seemed nervous. But the guy in the kitchen right now was relaxed and in his zone. Saul even caught little hints of a smile now and then.
There were things to be nervous about, but he wasn’t going to share most of them with Troy. What the actual fuck am I doing? punctuated by the list of what could potentially go south might not go over that well. And it wasn’t like the answer to that question was going to stop him from doing it. Hell, no. So he’d just save them and vent with his crew. Maybe Khloe. She got him better than most and would let him get the nerves out without judging.
“Come get it while it’s hot.” Two plates of French toast with sausage. Surprise surprise.
“Oh, man.” He hurried into the kitchen and found himself a chair, stupidly happy over his breakfast. “This is really why I wanted to fuck you, you know.”
“Damn, and I haven’t pulled out my chili recipe on you yet!” Troy took his mug and went to refill it.
“Oh. Fuck, that’s right! You’re Texan. I’d totally rim you for chili.” He wasn’t kidding.
“I will make you chili whenever you want.” Troy’s voice was rough as a cob.
He couldn’t have stopped the laughter if he tried. “Should I—” Words. Words required air, which required breathing. He tried to get a breath in between giggles. “Should I stay for dinner?”
“Hell, that gives me two meals, dessert, and a good-sized snack…” Troy almost cracked a smile but hid it in his coffee cup.
“You are naughty.” It was maddening, that straight face. “Wicked, evil, and naughty, and now I’m going to give you a solid spanking to go with your rim job. And I’m going to make you wait for next weekend. So there.”
Possibly the worst threat of a punishment in history. But it sure sounded like fun.
“So there. Yes, Sir.” Troy grinned at him, winked, then waved one hand playfully. “Eat. Eat. Your toast will get cold.”
They ate, and he didn’t have much to say for a bit because his mouth was full and Troy, sitting there in shorts and sporting all that ink, was enough just to look at. He didn’t need words. He did finally slow down after he’d finished two slices. “So so so so good. Either I’m going to have to order to you only make this once a week, or I’m going to have to make you part of my workout routine.”
Troy beamed at him. “Thank you, Sir. I love hearing that.”
“You should have seen all the pushups I was doing to work off waiting you out at the diner every damn day last week. It took you forever to come talk to me.” He grinned. It hadn’t really, Troy had to get it first, and then get up the nerve. “It was totally worth it, by the way.”
“It was. That was a great first date.” The smile he got warmed him, all the way down. “Even with all the mint.”
“Especially with the mint! One of my best first date stories ever.” He leaned back in his chair. “I am stuffed.” They needed to refill their coffees and talk. Maybe he could start them off in the shower. Though that might finish them off too.
“Lord, me too. Hand me your plate and I’ll toss it in the dishwasher real quick.” Troy grabbed his dishes and whisked them away.
“Thank you.” God, he wasn’t used to this. He was torn between how impolite it was not to offer to help with the dishes and knowing that some part of Troy needed to serve. But the proof of that was in his boy’s smile.
He’d talk about it, right? Just tell Troy that he and Deitz were never like this. Right? Maybe.
Yesterday it had worked, just asking Troy straight out, but—
“…like another cup?”
“Another—oh.” He peered into his cup. “Just a warmup, please.”
“You were a million miles away.” Troy’s fingers touched his, electricity buzzing through them.
“Yeah, I guess I was. I’m sorry.” The touch brought him back to the man he was with.
“You’re allowed. No worries.” Troy winked at him, then got him more coffee.
“Honestly? I was thinking about service. Wondering about what you need, and whether I should feel like a bad house guest for not helping with the dishes.” He watched Troy and smiled as he was handed back his mug.
“That’s a little ball of worms, isn’t it?” Troy shook his head and grinned at him. “Do you mind coming to the couch?”
He stood up. “Sure.” The invitation sounded like Troy had a few things on his mind too. Saul hated talking things to death, but he knew that “consensual” meant they had to talk a little at least.
“Good deal.” Troy drew him over and sat with him, grabbing a light blanket to wrap around them both. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m a bit of a cuddler.”
“Yeah? Okay.” Saul dove for the couch, getting comfy, and held his arms out. That was kind of awesome.