Say Their Names

Part 2

PART 2

RESULTS

As the movie credits rolled, someone tapped my shoulder. I turned my head to see Pascal. He pointed to Gerome, who had fallen asleep on Jericho’s shoulder.

“Is that the sweetest fucking thing you’ve ever seen?” he whispered.

“That’s pretty fucking sweet,” I agreed, meeting Jericho’s gaze.

“He probably hasn’t been sleeping well,” I whispered.

“No. I’m sure he hasn’t,” Pascal said.

“I hate to wake him,” Jericho murmured. “But I need to piss.”

“Should we offer the couch for the night?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jericho said, reaching over and jiggling Gerome. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Time to wake up.”

Gerome moaned lightly and snuggled into Jericho even more.

Pascal put a hand to his heart. “So precious.”

Jericho spoke a bit louder as he jiggled Gerome again. “Gerome. Wakey, wakey.”

Gerome opened his eyes. He stared at Jericho in surprise.

“Oh shit. Sorry.”

He sat up, blinking.

“I need the washroom,” Jericho said. “And it’s eleven thirty, so I think we’re gonna go to bed. You can stay the night, if you want, though. The couch is yours.”

Gerome looked at Jericho, then at me and Pascal.

“I’m pretty tired. Are you sure that would be okay?”

“It’s Friday. Do you have to be anywhere tomorrow?” I asked him.

“No. I’ve got an entry-level admin job now. Which means weekends off. Finally.”

Pascal opened his arms. “Well, just stay here, then. We’ll probably sleep in, but if you want to get up and go, that’s fine, too.”

“I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow,” I said.

“I’ll say good night,” Jericho said. “Scott can show you where the bathroom is on this level, all right?”

“Yeah, thanks. Good night, Jericho.”

“Good night, Gerome,” Pascal said with a little wave. “Sleep tight.”

Gerome smiled. We kept a basket of throw blankets by the sofa, so I pulled one out and tossed it onto the end of the couch for him.

“Bathroom’s the last door on the right.”

“Thanks, Scott. This is so nice of you all.”

“Gerome, it’s the least we can do. You need to sleep, and if that’s easier here with us, then that’s fine.”

“Good night, then.”

“Good night.”

I left him and went upstairs. Pascal and Jericho were getting undressed.

Pascal eyed me.

“You, uh, still having that problem we discussed earlier, Scott?”

“In a general sense, I guess.” I had managed to subdue my erection, but at Pascal’s words it started to make a reappearance.

“What problem?” Jericho asked, glancing over as he pushed down his pants.

I glanced at the open bedroom door, then walked over and closed it, turning back to Jericho.

“A problem with not being a huge horny slut for the gorgeous, but understandably anxious, twink downstairs.”

“Ah,” Jericho said. “If it makes you feel any better, that was also a problem that I was having.”

“Jesus. You guys are such perverts,” Pascal scoffed, grabbing his dick and aiming it at me and then Jericho.

Jericho gave Pascal a sober look. “Don’t you tell me that you weren’t having flashbacks to that oh-so-perfect evening back at Duke’s cottage.”

Pascal smiled with the air of fond reminiscence. “That night was amazing. But now I’m remembering how we put Scott in the pup hood the next day and defiled him.”

“Fuck,” I said.

“Get the hood, Pascal.”

“What?” I whispered.

“I think this is a good opportunity to remind you of your place, Scott,” Jericho said, crossing his arms as Pascal went over to the closet.

Pascal was our resident leather pup, and I’d come a long way from thinking the fetish was completely ridiculous, to appreciating how it could enhance Pascal’s personality and give him pleasure, but I didn’t think of myself as a pup. They had only done it the one time, and it had been hot, yeah. As I was thinking back on it now, I recalled how enjoyable it had been. I wasn’t sure why it made me nervous to put on the pup mask and be a mindless animal for an hour.

Pascal brought the well-made hood over and raised his eyebrows at Jericho.

“You can safeword, Scott. Or just tell me you’re too tired,” Jericho said.

I stared at the hood. It was made from soft black leather, with red trim on the lifelike ears, and a realistic muzzle. I looked at Jericho, then at Pascal—who seemed to be on tenterhooks, hoping I’d agree to this.

“We’ll have to be quiet. No way do I want Gerome to hear me barking. He already knows I’m a huge medical slut.”

Pascal laughed loudly, then slapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry.”

Jericho smiled. “Mmm. You are a huge medical slut, Scott. And not averse to a different kind of humiliation, it seems.” He inclined his chin and stared at the bulge in my jeans.

“Fine,” I sighed, pulling my shirt off.

“Yes!” Pascal said, swinging the pup hood on his finger as he gazed at me with a gleeful countenance.

“When you’re naked, come and kneel at my feet,” Jericho said. He held his hand out for the hood, which Pascal passed to him.

“There you go, Sir.”

“Thank you, Pascal.”

I got naked, then raised my finger to my lips. We listened. There were only the familiar background noises of our home at night. Once I was certain that Gerome wasn’t awake and wandering around, I kneeled on the wood floor in front of Jericho.

“Good boy,” he said, ruffling my hair.

This was such a wonderful mind-fuck. I was a professor at the local college, and I’d earned the respect of my students and the faculty. The medical kink was one thing—everyone needed to go to the doctor on occasion, even if they were the Prime Minister or a celebrity, so it was humiliating, but also kind of normal. This was different. And it made me feel very fucking strange.

But I knew from experience that if I trusted Jericho and Pascal and went with it, it would be fun and exciting.

I liked to be under another man’s control in the bedroom. I made so many important decisions at my job. I held the success and failure of hundreds of students in my hands. But here, in this safe space, I didn’t want to feel like my choices mattered . It was a joy and a relief to submit to Jericho, and Pascal brought more fun into it. He was Jericho’s faithful assistant in the exam room, and he brought a lighter atmosphere to the bedroom, as he was quick to find amusement in most situations.

Jericho lowered the pup hood over my head and Pascal buckled it behind. Kneeling between the two of them in this humbled way was a singularly arousing experience, and I closed my eyes for a moment, getting used to the leather mask.

“Do you remember what Scott’s pup name is?” Jericho asked Pascal.

“Oh damn,” Pascal muttered, scratching his chin and scrunching his forehead.

“Rocket,” I said, my voice echoing inside the leather hood.

“Well, well, well. Scotty remembers. Isn’t that interesting?” Jericho smirked.

I didn’t really give a fuck what my pup name was. I didn’t connect to this kind of play the way that Pascal did. At least, I didn’t think I did.

“All right, now,” Jericho said, beckoning to Pascal. “Why don’t you come up on the bed and we’ll give you a couple of bones to play with?”

So that was how it was gonna be. Well, I could play with bones. I loved to play with them, as a matter of fact.

Pascal and Jericho stripped naked and positioned themselves on the bed, side-by-side, leaning against the headboard.

“Here, puppy, puppy,” Pascal whispered, mindful of keeping our cover. “Come and get it.” He waved his erection at me while Jericho grinned, stroking himself idly.

I crawled up on the bed, moving forward, and giving a nudge to Pascal’s cock with my leather muzzle as I flashed him what I hoped was a lust-filled look.

“Oh my god,” he muttered. “Good boy…”

Pascal was beefier and bigger than Jericho, and had a charm that I couldn’t deny. He was great at snuggling and an intimidating presence when we were out and about. We didn’t have to worry about being rolled when Pascal was around. Even though Jericho was more my physical type, I had learned to love Pascal’s laid-back masculinity and easy humor.

I grunted and then opened my mouth, maneuvering into position to get at Pascal’s erection. The bottom jaw of the hood was short. In a moment, I had my lips around him.

“Oh, good boy, good boy,” Pascal groaned. “Look at him, J. So eager.”

“Oh, yes, he’s a good boy. A good doggy,” Jericho murmured.

I was getting into it, slobbering and slavering over Pascal’s cock, when Jericho told me to switch. I slid off and crawled over to where Jericho was lying.

“Suck me, Rocket. Suck my cock.”

I obeyed, lost to the soothing routine of doing what I was told. I loved my job, but boy, did I enjoy this more. And if things got too stressful in the work sphere, then an evening of submission and obedience could sort me right out and have me ready to be in charge again. In pup space, I wasn’t even required to say anything. I could be a pet—Jericho and Pascal’s special pet—and take a simple joy in blind obedience.

I went back and forth between them, crawling over their legs, and bending to their cocks, giving them everything I could, until Jericho told me to stop.

“Turn around.”

Slick fingers stroked between my cheeks and rubbed my eager hole, while someone’s hand lubed up my erection. I closed my eyes and lowered to my elbows, my submissive ass up in the air for both of them.

Jericho entered me first. I could tell it was him, from the size of his dick and from the ways he moved and dealt with me. And since he was top of the chain in our strange dynamic, he usually got first dibs.

“Oh, yeah. What a good boy,” he moaned, sliding in without much trouble.

That familiar feeling of being penetrated by the man I’d grown to love, the man who had seen me hovering on the edges of a pup play Halloween event and approached me, so long ago, gave me a thrill and nostalgia for the time we’d met. He and Pascal had taken me home that night, for what was supposed to be a one-time thing—an introduction to medical kink that had blown my fucking mind. And it had developed over time into this committed, and kinky, polyamorous relationship.

I stifled my bliss-filled noises as Jericho fucked me, slowly and purposefully. I lost myself to the present moment, feeling the tension build. Jericho knew my body, and he knew how to fuck me. After a little bit of time, he climaxed with a quiet moan, then pulled out and slapped my ass.

I felt claimed and safe, and when Pascal pushed in, it brought me up to another level of pleasure. I was closer now and the feeling of impending bliss was within reach. My body sang and hummed with ecstatic energy as he moved, a little rougher and with more urgency than Jericho. He came with a stifled moan as he hunched over me, then kissed my shoulder as he pulled out and played with my jizz-filled hole. Then they flipped me over and took turns sucking my dick until I got off, groaning as quietly as I could while Jericho held his hand over my mouth.

In the morning, I woke first.

My ass was pleasantly sore, and I recalled our tryst from the previous evening. They’d cleaned me up after they were done defiling me, so I wasn’t sticky with dried jizz.

I extricated myself from the tangle of familiar bodies without waking them somehow. I pulled on some PJ pants and a t-shirt, then padded down the stairs and peeked into the living room.

Gerome snored lightly, snuggled under a couple of blankets. I was glad to see him getting much-needed sleep and happy that we’d been able to soothe him. I tried not to make much noise as I loaded and started the coffeemaker. The fancy model we had was almost silent as it brewed, making a soft, swishing noise that soothed me. I made a couple of pieces of toast, then spread cherry jam on them and ate them at the kitchen table.

By the time I’d finished, the coffee was ready. I poured myself a cup and sat down in the same spot, checking the news app on my phone.

“Good morning.”

I glanced up and saw Gerome in the doorway to the kitchen, wrapped in a blanket, gazing at me out of sleepy eyes.

“Good morning, Gerome. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Might have been the coffee. It smells so good. Is there enough for me?”

“Of course. Help yourself. Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah. I feel rested for the first time in days.”

“I’m so glad,” I said, sipping my coffee. “There’s milk in the fridge and sugar in the cupboard above the sink, if you need it.”

“Thanks.”

“And there’s bread and cereal and fruit if you’d like something to eat. Although Jericho will probably make pancakes or eggs when he gets up.”

Gerome’s eyebrows lifted. “You don’t say? Maybe I’ll wait and enjoy my coffee for now.”

“Good idea.”

He looked unsure for a moment. “Is that okay? Do you mind if I stick around? I can get going, if that’s?—”

“Stay. It’s lovely having you here,” I said. “Mugs are in the cupboard over the sink.”

Gerome opened the cupboard and pulled down a cup. He chuckled, then showed it to me.

“Whose is this?”

I stared at it, grinning. It said “I Heart Bingo” on the side.

“It’s Pascal’s. We gave it to him as a joke, and now it’s his favorite.”

“Oh. Should I put it back and pick another?”

“Don’t you dare. He won’t mind.”

Gerome poured himself some coffee, added a bit of milk, stirred it, and sat down beside me, taking a sip. “I’m feeling more philosophical today. I think the sleep helped.”

“Probably,” I said.

“You know, it won’t be the end of the world if I test positive.”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t really want to deal with that right now, when I’m so young. But, I could find out next month that I have stage four cancer. I could get killed in a car crash this afternoon. So, if I find out that I…” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Have HIV, then I’ll deal with it, and listen to what my doctor recommends.”

“I think that’s a good way to think about it,” I said. “Very mature.”

“I’d still rather be negative. I hope I’m negative,” Gerome said with a sigh. “But if I’m not, I’ll deal with it.” He smiled over his steaming mug. “Does that mean I’m growing up?”

I laughed. “In a way. A scare like this can have a way of making you reassess things.”

“Yeah.”

“I think that young people—jeez, I sound like a grandpa—young people tend to think they’re immortal, right? That those things they’ve heard about always happen to other people. I think it’s a survival mechanism, but maybe a holdover from when the world was infinitely more dangerous than it is now.”

“Huh. Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“Then you realize that something could happen to you, like really understand that it’s entirely possible, and your world view changes.” I took another sip of my coffee, then nodded. “And when you turn forty, you realize that you’ve lived half your life already and that you will actually die sometime in the next forty or fifty years.”

He stared at me. “Wow.”

I raised my eyebrows. “But that also comes with a change of perspective, because you realize that you’re not going to be here forever. And you’re braver in a different way. Not reckless, but more willing to do those things you were putting off.”

He gaped at me. “No way are you forty.”

“You’re right. I’m forty-one.”

“Come on.”

“It’s true, and I feel it.” At the moment the only thing I was feeling was the soreness from my romp with Jericho and Pascal, but it did seem like most days a part of my body was protesting.

“So…what had you put off?”

I blushed. “Well, luckily not a foursome with my loving partners and an adorable twink.”

He laughed lightly. “Luckily.”

“And I met Jericho and Pascal when I finally braved the leather bar and expressed an interest in medical kink. But I think it was the fact that I could see forty in the headlights, you know? I wanted to seize the day. Before my grip got too weak.” I shook my head.

“Well, here’s to seizing the day,” Gerome said, lifting his mug to clink it with mine. “I’m glad I came to the cottage with you guys that night. Thank you for looking after me so well.”

“It’s only that we’re older, and we know better than to risk your health, and ours, for some quick kicks.”

“Hey, did someone mention quick kicks?” Pascal said, yawning as he padded into the kitchen in his boxer briefs and nothing else. He frowned, heading for the coffee pot. “Jeez, say that ten times fast. Bet you can’t.”

I arched my eyebrow at Pascal and turned back to Gerome. “Forgot to warn you about the bear sightings in the kitchen.”

“Oh hey,” he said, pointing at the mug Gerome was using. “You love bingo, too?”

“Oh yeah,” Gerome said, playing along. “My favorite pastime.”

Pascal laughed. “And, Scott, I’m a pup, not a bear.”

An alarm pinged in my brain as Pascal continued.

“Well, I’m usually a pup. Except for last night, right, Scotty?”

Gerome sat up. “What? What happened last night?”

“Nothing,” I said, giving Pascal a warning look.

“How are you feeling today, Gerome?” Pascal asked, as Jericho ambled into the kitchen.

“I’m good. What happened last night?” Gerome asked Pascal. He cleared his throat. “While I was passed out like a baby down here. Missing everything.”

The three of us exchanged looks, then Jericho brought his coffee to the table and sat down, while Pascal continued to sip his where he stood leaning against the counter.

“I just meant that Scott was the pup last night. Not me, for a change.”

Gerome’s eyes went wide. He looked at me. “ You were the pup? You ?”

Pascal broke into more laughter.

“Yes, me. Why is that so hard to believe?” I felt a bit offended, even though the pup identity wasn’t something I’d claimed for my own.

“I don’t know. I just…can’t picture it,” Gerome said, gazing at me and obviously trying to.

“Well, I sure can,” Pascal said, grinning over his mug at me.

“Knock it off. I don’t think Gerome wants to hear about all of that.” I waved my hand in the air, as I blushed with embarrassment.

“Oh, yes, I do,” Gerome said. “I want to hear about all of it.”

“You seem to be feeling better,” Jericho said, smiling at Gerome.

“Yeah. Trying not to worry about it until I find out what I’m dealing with. Or not dealing with.”

“Good idea,” Jericho said, sipping his coffee.

“Which do you prefer, Gerome? Pancakes, French toast or scrambled eggs?” Pascal asked.

Jericho frowned. “Oh, you’re making breakfast today? Cool beans.”

Pascal laughed. “No. I thought you were going to…”

Jericho shook his head and gazed at Gerome. “I’m telling you. They totally take my astonishing cooking skills for granted in this house.”

Gerome shrugged. “I can just make toast…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jericho scoffed. “Answer Pascal’s question and I’ll make what you like.”

“You really don’t have to…”

“I’d like to feed you, Gerome. At least let me have that pleasure,” Jericho said.

“You’d better do as he says. He’s going to make something, so you might as well tell him what you prefer.”

“Okay, okay. French toast, please.”

I clapped my hands. “Yes!”

We stuffed our faces with Jericho’s delicious French toast, then Gerome thanked us and took off. We told him to keep us updated and to feel free to text us or stop by, whenever.

Two days later, I got the text I’d been waiting for.

Gerome: NEGATIVE!!!

Me: CONGRATS!!! I thought so, but it must be a relief to hear it.

Gerome: Such a relief. I’m sitting here feeling like I’m going to float up into the air.

Me: We should celebrate.

Gerome: YES!

Me: Come for supper?

Gerome: YES!

Gerome had told me that his HIV positive hook-up had been very relieved when Gerome had told him that he hadn’t passed the virus on to him. And that Gerome had offered his shoulder to lean on if the guy ever wanted to talk about things. He’d said he had a lot of support already but thanked Gerome for letting him know about his test results.

I texted the good news to Jericho and Pascal. We invited him for supper that Saturday. When I texted him a time that worked for us, he surprised me with the following:

You know, if you guys don’t mind, I would love to meet that HIV positive couple you know…

I called Grant to see if they could come on Saturday, explaining that Gerome had had a recent scare and that we’d told him about them. They were free and said they’d love to come for supper, so I texted Gerome again.

Me: They’re in. Do you have any food restrictions?

Gerome: Nope. Although I’m not a huge fan of seafood.

Me: Noted. See you Saturday. Don’t forget to talk to your doctor about PrEP…

Gerome: Yes, Dad. Smiley face.

Me: Good boy. Smiley face.

I wondered if, now that he’d gotten a good test result, perhaps Gerome would be up for some safer sex shenanigans once Grant and Christopher went home on Saturday. I was embarrassed to say how much I’d enjoyed the ‘Dad’ comment. But I’d put that out of my mind for now.

Jericho and Pascal had originally introduced me to their friends, Grant Firestone and Christopher Ogabwe, shortly after we’d first met. Grant was an event coordinator for a non-profit organization and Christopher owned a flower shop in the Byward Market. They’d been together, at the time, for about five years, and during one of our early meetings, they’d let me know of their HIV status.

They were completely open about it, even to the point of wearing POZ pins to Pride events and such, which was why I’d felt comfortable telling Gerome about them. They were out and proud about who they were and their positive status, so that other people could see that it was possible to live a full and rewarding life after an HIV diagnosis.

They arrived before Gerome, who had texted that he’d had an emergency—nothing terrible—and was running late.

We hadn’t seen Grant and Christopher in ages, so there was a lot of hugging and catching up to do while we waited. Then the conversation turned to our absent dinner guest.

“So…is Gerome the young guy you invited back to Duke’s cottage? The one from the restaurant?”

I stared at Grant. “How on earth do you remember that?”

He raised his eyebrows. “How would I forget? I’ve been fantasizing about it ever since because you never gave me any details.”

Jericho smiled. “We don’t kiss and tell.”

Christopher barked a laugh. “Since when? You told us exactly what happened after the Halloween party.”

I felt my cheeks heat, and Jericho looked embarrassed. Pascal glanced at me with sympathy.

“Yes, well, I’ve learned from my indiscretions,” Jericho admitted. “With Scott, we didn’t know it was going to be anything more than a one-off. And I was probably showing off.”

“You? Showing off?” Grant said, smiling. “Anyway, Scott doesn’t care, I’m sure.”

I shrugged. “Water under the bridge.”

“Or in the enema bag,” Christopher muttered.

“Christopher!” Grant admonished.

“What?”

“Oh my God,” Grant mumbled.

Christopher glanced at me with regret. “I’m sorry, Scott. I get carried away.”

I raised my hands and smiled. “Yeah, so does Dr. Griffin,” I said, side-eyeing Jericho, who finger-gunned me as Pascal guffawed.

Grant and Christopher chuckled.

My phone dinged. I glanced at it.

Gerome: On my way. Ten minutes, I’m not far.

I tapped a reply while I said, “That was Gerome. He should be here in ten minutes or so.”

“Wow. A boy who communicates when he’s going to be late. Wonders never cease,” Grant said.

“Let’s not talk about that,” Christopher muttered.

Pascal’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes, you should talk about that. Have you been playing?”

“Shhh,” Christopher said, glancing at Grant. “Maybe. Once or twice.”

“Well, well, well. What’s this disrespectful boy’s name?” Jericho asked with a grin.

“Dane,” Grant said. “He’s trans, and he’s lovely. However, not always communicative. We’re working on it.”

“I’ll bet you are,” Jericho said. “Naughty, naughty.”

“Of course, we’re playing safe, as he’s neg. But he knows about us. We take precautions.”

“Be sure to let Gerome know. I think he was terrified of testing positive,” Pascal suggested.

Grant shrugged. “People still are. And they should be. It’s life changing, for sure, but not like it used to be.”

“There is still the stigma. We do encounter it,” Christopher admitted.

A timer in the kitchen started dinging.

“Excuse me,” Jericho said. “I need to check on the casserole.” He went into the kitchen.

The doorbell rang.

“Oh, that’s Gerome,” I said, getting up.

He came in, apologizing profusely for being late and for holding up dinner.

“Come and meet our friends,” I said.

Introductions were made. Pleasantries exchanged. Nobody mentioned at first why we’d arranged this get together.

We sat at the table once the pasta casserole was ready. With eating and praising Jericho’s cooking talents the main distraction, Grant finally addressed the elephant in the room.

“I heard you had a bit of a health scare, Gerome.”

Gerome blushed. “Yeah. It’s…not something I want to go through again.”

“I’m sure,” Christopher said. “We’re glad everything turned out the way you wanted it.”

Gerome gazed at the two of them with embarrassed sympathy. “I’m…sorry it didn’t turn out that way for you.”

Christopher smiled. And it wasn’t a fake ‘I’m only smiling so you won’t feel sorry for me’. It was a genuine, happy smile.

“To be honest, it wasn’t the diagnosis I wanted. Of course not. But the change it brought into my life wasn’t all bad.” He looked at Grant and reached for his hand.

“No, that’s true,” Grant said. “We wouldn’t have found each other. And we’re very happy together.”

“Most of the time,” Christopher said with a wry smile, while Grant put a hand to his chest in mock indignation.

We laughed.

“But…the treatments work pretty well, don’t they?” Gerome asked. “That’s what Scott told me.”

“Yes. Most of the time,” Grant said. “They do monitor you, because at any time they may need to make an adjustment. But we’ve been lucky. As I told the others, we’ve had zero viral load readings for years. Even if one of us was neg, we wouldn’t necessarily need to use condoms. We probably would, but it’s nice knowing that there is almost a 0% chance that we would make someone sick.”

“That’s amazing,” Gerome said.

“That being said, I would hope you’ve been looking into preventative medication, like PrEP,” Christopher said. “Pardon me for acting like a grandad, but please protect yourself. You simply don’t need the hassle of it all.”

“Or the stigma,” Grant added. “We were talking to the others about that. There is quite a bit, still, in the straight community, of course, but also in the gay community.”

Gerome nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t really know much about it until I got that scare. I was lucky to be able to get in touch with Scott.”

Christopher and Grant looked at us.

“They are very helpful, these three. Very, very helpful,” Christopher said, giving Gerome a wry grin. “In many, many ways.”

Gerome blushed. “I guess you heard about how we met…”

I raised my hand. “Now look, we didn’t give them all the dirty details, Gerome.”

“We wanted to,” Pascal said, waggling his eyebrows.

“No, we were very discreet,” Jericho confirmed. “Mostly. You really can’t blame us for wanting to brag about the beautiful boy we had for dessert that night.”

Pascal made a nostalgic sound. “It was an incredible evening.”

“Yes, it was,” I agreed.

“All right, all right. You don’t have to keep bragging,” Christopher muttered, eyeing sweet Gerome.

“It’s okay,” Gerome said. “I bragged to my friends about it, too.”

“You did?” I said. “Huh.”

“Are you kidding? Of course, I did. Everyone was jealous.”

“Well, of course they were,” Jericho said. “Now, at this moment, I would like to mention that I have prepared a lovely dessert. Not as lovely as Gerome, but I have a feeling the five of us would be a bit much for him, especially so soon after his recent health scare.”

“Jesus Christ,” Gerome said. “Yeah, I think I’d like some dessert of the food variety tonight. Not that you aren’t all super wonderful and, uh, hot.”

“Aren’t you sweet,” Grant said, nudging Christopher’s elbow. “Isn’t he adorable?”

“Very. God, remember when we were his age?” Christopher said.

“Barely.” Grant raised his glass. “To dessert, of all the varieties.”