Chapter 23 #2
“Want to know a secret?” he asked instead.
“I don’t care. I don’t want to read your book to assess it for literary quality, Luca.
I want to read it because you love it. I want you to be able to talk to me about it when you have a new idea, or when you’re struggling with a storyline, and so I can tell you why all those literary agents don’t matter in the end.
Because it means something to you. So it already means something to me. Okay?”
Luca took another long moment to answer. His breath was coming faster, like they’d danced harder than they had, like they were doing more than just sitting on a dirty floor.
“Okay,” he said, and then he grabbed Emerson by the neck and kissed him.
It was hard, almost desperate, not like the sleepy brushes along Emerson’s neck that had started their tryst on the dance floor.
Emerson tried to meet him in kind, communicate with his lips and his tongue and his thumbs, I mean it I mean it I mean it.
I choose you, until somehow Luca ended up flat on the floor, Emerson on top of him, just like their first kiss in the rain.
It couldn’t have been comfortable for Luca, his back on these old floorboards, but he didn’t seem to mind.
Until, breathing heavily, he pushed gently on Emerson’s chest, pulling back just far enough to say—
“I’ll send you my book if you let me look at your Sunday spreadsheets.”
The words came out fast, almost a jumble, and Emerson stared at him, brain lagging behind his body, which didn’t understand why they weren’t still kissing. Why Luca was no longer thrusting his dick against Emerson’s.
“Your financials,” Luca continued, breathing evening out. “The budget, the bills, the profit margins. Talk to me about the details. Let me carry some of the weight. Let me brainstorm with you about ways to fix it. Okay?”
Emerson nodded. “Okay.” He grabbed Luca’s face to bring it back to his.
Still, Luca resisted, laughing a little this time, a sound that somehow made Emerson even more hard.
“And the other spreadsheets,” Luca said. “The ones that make you happy. I want you to explain those to me, too.”
The immediate reply almost came right out of Emerson’s mouth this time, since his brain was still rapidly losing focus. I promise they’re not that exciting, Luca.
“Okay,” he said, again, instead. “I promise.”
And when Luca smiled at him—really smiled, for the first time since Emerson had seen him today, his dark eyes so happy—Emerson kissed him so hard it hurt, teeth smashing into lips, his hands frantically reaching under Luca’s t-shirt.
He moved his mouth to Luca’s neck, to the underside of his chin, his collarbone, relishing every groan out of Luca’s mouth, every harsh breath arrowing straight to his dick.
“Fuck,” Luca muttered, bringing Emerson’s mouth back to his, his pelvis arching up into Emerson’s once more. “Need you,” he murmured between their lips.
“You don’t even know,” Emerson panted back.
He knew it wasn’t the best idea to go for it right here; the floor was too hard; they could get splinters, but god—he wanted to crawl inside Luca’s skin.
It made him feel brave, like every time he ever touched Luca made him feel brave.
It had always been all honesty, when they were like this.
Emerson’s phone lit up on the ground.
Emerson barely saw it out of the corner of his eye. Luca had somehow gotten Emerson’s pants undone and his hands were squeezing Emerson’s ass under his underwear, still thrusting up while Emerson thrust back, and it felt so good even though it was all kind of chaotic—
The phone lit up again, and some tiny neuron in Emerson’s brain sprang to life. GET IT GET IT GET IT it needled, even though every single other neuron was fully focused on other things. GET IT!!!, it yelled a second later, like a real stubborn motherfucker.
“Sorry,” he breathed after their next kiss. “Let me just—oh my god.”
Suddenly Emerson was scrambling off of Luca so fast he got light-headed.
“Emerson…?”
“Sorry. Fuck. Fuck.”
“Is everything okay?”
Luca leaned up on his elbows as Emerson shoved himself to standing, wobbly but somehow successful.
“Yeah, it’s just—” He held out his phone. “London and Dahlia are going to be here in thirty minutes. The ones from Chef’s Special, remember? I told Dahlia we could shoot an interview here about the farm for her YouTube channel, but I totally forgot.”
Still holding his phone, he held his head.
“How do I look?”
From the floor, Luca gave him a slow, molten look from his shoes up to his eyes. Emerson realized his pants were still unbuttoned and barely holding onto his hips.
“Like you were about to get fucked,” Luca assessed, and Emerson groaned into his hands. “Also,” Luca added, voice less sultry, “like you spent a lot of time in the other barn today.”
“I did,” Emerson moaned. “I’m a mess.”
“Okay, okay.” With a wince, Luca pushed himself off the floor.
Wrapping his arms around Emerson’s back, he pulled him into his chest. “Here’s what we’re going to do.
We’re going to take a quick shower back at the house”—he kissed Emerson’s temple—“and I’m gonna blow you while we’re in there, get you nice and relaxed for your interview, and then you’re gonna kill it and it’s gonna be great. ”
“Um.” Emerson could barely breathe, he was so aroused and stressed at the same time. “If you’re sure.”
“Oh, I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”
And smooth as anything, Luca reached down and re-buttoned Emerson’s pants for him before giving Emerson a little pat on the cheek.
“Come on,” he said, grinning. “No time to waste!”
And Luca literally ran out of the barn.
“Fuck,” Emerson said to himself. “Fuck, Luca please be careful!”
He ran, eyes constantly switching between the rutted, uneven dirt road at his feet and making sure Luca was still upright ahead of him, until Luca rounded the bend and disappeared.
By the time Emerson entered the house, he could already hear the shower running.
By the time he entered the bathroom, Luca had already whipped off his shirt and was working on his pants.
Emerson could only stare at him, breathless.
“Come on,” Luca said as he pulled off his socks. “Clock’s ticking.”
Emerson knew it was, and still, he watched, motionless, as Luca stepped naked into the shower. Only then did his brain slowly stutter into action.
“Emerson King,” Luca called from behind the curtain. “Get in here and let me shampoo your hair.”
A laugh escaped Emerson’s lungs as he struggled out of his clothes as quickly as his shaking hands could go.
When he stepped over the lip of the tub, Luca’s hands were already sudsed. He motioned with his head toward the water. “Come on. Get yourself wet.”
After navigating around Luca, Emerson did as asked. Except his hands faltered in his hair when Luca stepped as close as physically possible, their lower bodies pressing together. Gently, Luca stuck his hands in Emerson’s hair and tugged him away from the spray as he sudsed him up.
“I assumed the Spider-Man shampoo wasn’t yours.”
Emerson could only stare at him, eyes half-lidded, half afraid his legs were going to give out at any minute.
“Used it a few times when I had to,” Emerson murmured, hands reaching for Luca’s hips. “It works.”
“Mm.” Luca smiled at him. “But this one smells like you.”
And then he leaned down and kissed him, and Emerson grabbed his ass, pulling him closer, rocking into him and groaning as he kissed him back.
The idea of Dahlia and London being here soon felt like a faraway alternate reality.
In this one, right here, there was only this, the slickness of both of their bodies, the warmth of the water, the tenderness of Luca taking care of him.
“Mm,” Luca hummed again as he pulled back from the kiss, still smiling. He reached behind him and grabbed the conditioner from the caddy. “Here. You take over this part.”
And then he slid down Emerson’s body to his knees.
Emerson shuddered, looking down at him.
He hadn’t truly thought Luca had been kidding before, but still, everything that was happening was—
“Oh my god.” Emerson’s arm smacked the tiled wall behind them, trying to find something to grasp onto as Luca took him into his mouth. He widened his stance as he tried to maintain balance.
Luca pulled off a second later to look up at him.
“Conditioner,” he said, voice stern. He maintained eye contact as he sucked Emerson into his mouth again, even as water splashed down on his face, making his eyelashes clump together.
“Oh my god,” Emerson said again, attempting to do as he was told. He squirted the conditioner into his hands even though his fingers were shaking. He tried to find a place to put the bottle but he was too far away from the caddy, and Luca was—he couldn’t—
Luca held up a hand for the bottle. He placed it on the ledge of the tub without pausing the action of his mouth, then twisted his wrist in a hurry up motion as he bobbed on Emerson’s dick.
“Fuck,” Emerson muttered as he shoved the conditioner into his hair. Which really didn’t take much doing, considering how little of it he had, so he could finally focus on—
Luca pulled off again and pushed himself off the floor of the tub until he stood in front of Emerson again.
“What—”
Luca grabbed Emerson’s body wash, squeezed it into his hands.
“Relax,” he whispered into Emerson’s lips before he kissed him, before his hands traveled around Emerson’s body, over his shoulders, down his back, under his armpits, between his legs and behind his balls. “I got you.”
And then he was on his knees again, his mouth on Emerson working faster and harder than ever.
“Luca.” Emerson placed a hand on Luca’s head. Luca hummed around his dick in approval. “I’m close.”
Luca hummed again, longer, deeper, and Emerson held onto the edge of the windowsill for dear life as he came into Luca’s mouth.
His chest was still heaving when Luca made his slow, careful way up Emerson’s body, kissing the entire way. The kiss he left on Emerson’s lips when he made it there was brief.
“Okay,” he said. “Last rinse and then we dry off.”
“But you—” Emerson made a weak gesture toward Luca’s erection.
“I’ll get my turn,” Luca said with a smile and one last kiss. “Later. I trust you.”
And Luca stepped out of the shower, leaving Emerson alone and winded under the spray.
“Come on, King!” he shouted from the other side of the room, a smile hidden in his voice, and Emerson smiled back at the shower curtain, boneless and happy. The luckiest man alive. “Time to get ready for the cameras.”