Episode 3
Collin flushed, not that it showed. His face was already hot from the spicy food. “Would you help me relieve myself, sir?”
Mr. Reevesworth’s lips eased into a small smile. “Of course, Collin.”
He folded his napkin and made to stand. Collin stepped back to let him out.
All the way back to the table after relieving himself in the bathroom, he kept repeating to himself in his head, “Damian’s been through this too. Damian’s been through this too.”
He still had his eyes fixed on the floor when he scooted back into his seat.
A bit of grilled meat dipped into one of the sauces hit his rice bowl.
He flinched and looked up. Damian met his eyes, not smiling and not mocking.
There was a moment with nothing said, and then Damian grunted, his mouth evidently full. He waved his chopsticks at the meat.
Collin gave him a wavering smile and put the meat into his mouth.
Perfection. He had to take Alice to a place like this someday.
Toward the end of the feast, Mr. Moreau sat up straight and raised the second shot glass of the night. “Before we conclude, we have one more thing to celebrate. Collin, Richard.” He nodded toward both and drank.
Damian repeated the gesture. Awkward pleasure crawled up Collin’s neck. He dropped his eyes, but Damian pushed a glass toward him. He picked it up and drank with Mr. Reevesworth, nodding toward Mr. Moreau and Damian.
As they left, Damian put an arm around Collin, leading him out first. They chatted about nothing until they were in the street with the sounds of cars filling the air.
Then Damian leaned into Collin’s ear. “Normally, we drink more. I don’t think Mr. Reevesworth wanted anyone incapacitated tonight.
” He glanced back. Collin looked with him.
Mr. Reevesworth and Mr. Moreau were walking together, hands interlaced, heads bowed together in conversation.
“They look…perfect.”
“Soulmates.” Damian nodded. “Someday, I hope to find someone like that for me.”
Inside The Residence, there was a small wait at the door for everyone to remove their shoes and either go barefoot in Damian’s case or put on house slippers as in Mr. Moreau’s case. Collin padded inside in his socks as did Mr. Reevesworth, who disappeared toward his bedroom at once.
Damian pulled off his coat and jacket and tossed them over the back of his chair. He moved toward Collin as he loosened his tie. “Can I kiss you?”
Collin blinked. “I-I don’t know.”
Damian tilted his head to the side, sizing Collin up. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know if I’m allowed.”
“And if we were allowed?”
Collin bit his lip. “I wouldn’t…mind trying?”
Damian shook his head. “You’re not giving me a big wallop of confidence, kid.”
“Well, you’re a big, intimidating businessman. Forgive me if you make me fucking nervous.”
Damian smirked. He grabbed Collin’s arm and dragged him into the hall toward Mr. Reevesworth and Mr. Moreau’s bedroom. The door was open, and Mr. Reevesworth was bare chested in the process of changing out of his suit.
“Sir? Permission to kiss Collin?”
Mr. Reevesworth turned around. He looked between Collin and Damian and stepped toward the walk-in closet. “Dear, you might want to come out. Damian wants to kiss the kitten.”
Mr. Moreau stepped into the bedroom, his shirt unbuttoned and hanging from his shoulders. He’d already changed his pants into something shiny and slippery that looked like silk. “Is that so?”
Damian dragged Collin deeper into the room. He swung him around and pushed him up against the wall, one muscular thigh sliding between Collin’s legs. He pressed Collin’s wrists together and pushed them up above his head in one hand. His free hand slapped against the wall.
Collin shuddered. His eyes sought Damian’s face. But there was too much intensity there.
“What’s your safe word, Collin?”
“Red.” Collin’s chest rose and fell.
“Classic.” Damian’s eyes examined Collin’s lips. “Still intimidated?”
“Yes.”
“Still want this?”
Collin’s lungs screamed for air. He pulled on his wrists. Damian tightened his grip. Collin slumped against the wall, but that gave him no distance. Damian’s thigh was up against his dick. “I don’t even know what this is?”
Damian chuckled, dark and low. “I’m going to turn you into a mess, and your master is going to watch.”
Collin’s skin tingled from his face to his legs. He tried to look toward Mr. Reevesworth, but Damian’s free hand gripped his chin.
“Unless you use that word, little brother, I’m going to kiss you.”
Collin dragged air into his body. How could one feel this naked with clothes on?
Damian’s lips pressed against his, firm and slightly cold from outside, but they didn’t stop there. He grasped Collin’s lips with own, pulling them apart. He licked his way inside, tasting and searching. His teeth scraped against the edges of Collin’s mouth, sharpness amidst the warmth.
Collin’s head spun. He pulled and struggled, whether to pull away and catch his bearings or to get closer to Damian he wasn’t sure. He just needed to move, but Damian was a cage of muscle and heat.
He gasped for air and groaned when Damian finally drew back.
But another hand, more slender with longer fingers, took his wrists from Damian, and a long, strong arm wrapped around his back, dragging him forward against another body.
He blinked upward into Mr. Reevesworth’s face, right before he was kissed again.
His head fell back, and he opened without thought. Like a banner somewhere deep in his mind, a stray voice muttered, I’m getting fucked tonight, aren’t I?
Mr. Reevesworth’s hand descended down Collin’s back and gripped the curve of his ass, pulling him up on his toes and forcing him to lean against Mr. Reevesworth, unable to catch himself with his hands caught behind his head.
Mr. Reevesworth rested his forehead against Collin’s. “Beautiful.”
Collin trembled.
Mr. Reevesworth drew back. “émeric, would you take Collin for me? Damian and I are going to the playroom.”
Collin blinked. The world around him was shifting and changing, but then his legs hit a sofa and his knees were giving out.
Mr. Moreau’s arms, still covered in his open shirt, wrapped around him and drew him in. “Pull your legs up, love. There. Now put your head down.”
Collin’s head dropped against Mr. Moreau’s chest. The man’s heart thumped slow and steady inside his chest, like a deep drum, steady and reassuring.
There were footsteps moving away, and the air in the room felt empty. He looked up, blinking.
Mr. Moreau put his hand on the back of Collin’s head and guided him back down until Collin was lying in his lap. “Richard took Damian into the playroom.”
“I thought…” Was he disappointed? A feeling he couldn’t quite name sat unquietly in his stomach. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, you did so many things right.”
“I don’t understand.” Collin tried to blink away tears. Even with his head and shoulders against Mr. Moreau’s heat, he was cold.
Mr. Moreau’s hands glided through Collin’s hair. “Damian needs more tonight than Richard wants to show you just yet.”
“Oh.”
Collin curled his fingers, the urge to rake skin off his arms rising up and gripping him by the throat. He made a fist in his pants.
“Come. Up.” Mr. Moreau urged Collin up. “Let’s go to the kitchen.”
Mutely, Collin obeyed. Mr. Moreau stripped off his shirt as he went, leaving it over the end of the couch. He led Collin out into the hallway and toward Collin’s bedroom. “Let’s find you something comfortable. You’re dressed for being out and about.”
Collin opened the drawers robotically, still trying not to cry. He picked a pair of soft, dark-blue pajama pants and a loose sweater. Mr. Moreau leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. He watched as Collin pulled on the clothes.
“Do you need to use the bathroom?”
Collin nodded.
Together they went into the bathroom. Collin pushed down his pants and watched as Mr. Moreau keyed open the lock.
There was still a lot of water to pass from drinking away the spice of dinner.
Finished, Mr. Moreau replaced everything and washed his hands, motioning for Collin to do the same after him.
In the kitchen, Mr. Moreau started pulling ingredients out of the cupboards. “Eggs, please, from the fridge, kitten.”
Collin obeyed, still wiping a bit of water from his eyes now and then.
Mr. Moreau selected his desired number from the carton and motioned him to put the rest back. “You don’t want to bake with cold eggs, but since it’s late, get a bowl with warm water, not hot, and float the eggs in it.”
Collin searched the cupboards for a bowl and ran water from the tap. Then he slid the eggs in one by one. The displaced water spilled out on the counter. Collin pushed back, but his pants were still darkened by a long streak of water.
Mr. Moreau stepped up beside him with a towel and mopped off the counter, stopping the spill. Then he turned to Collin.
“You can put on new pants, or you can just dry a bit of it off with this.” He held out the towel.
“That, sir.”
Mr. Moreau nodded and gave over the towel, returning to measuring. “Have you ever sifted flour?”
“No.”
“Well, today is when you learn, but let’s get you an apron. Only the most fastidious of bakers can do this without fallout.”
“What are you baking?”
“We are making profiteroles. Your role will be to keep stirring until I tell you to stop. The batter is made mostly over heat until we remove it and add the eggs.”
“You mix the dough over heat?”
“Yes.” Mr. Moreau smiled. “You will see.”
They started with butter in a saucepan. Collin stood in front of the stove and stirred. Watching the spoon move around the pan hypnotized him. He almost startled when Mr. Moreau appeared at his elbow with a measuring cup of water.
“That’s a lot of water.”
“Yes.”
“You know, I don’t even know what profiteroles are, sir.”
“They are bits of heaven, according to Richard. Balls of air filled with cream of whatever type one likes.”
“Wouldn’t that make them mushy?”