Ward #6
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Yes, I suppose that’s true, but...even still. I haven’t gone bareback with someone when I barely know them.”
“Ah, so it feels strange that you’ve done it with me.”
“Yes, I suppose you haven’t had that issue.”
I’d had my own issues, namely that I couldn’t stay in control around him, which was.
..new. In many ways, I was less in control with him than I had been growing up with my mother at the helm.
Of course, the major difference was that he wasn’t a cold-hearted bitch who insisted on controlling every little thing in people’s lives.
No, that lack of control was my responsibility, not Arlo’s.
It was also not about me. “I can’t say I’ve had the same self-control as you have.”
He grunted. “It’s...different. It worries me.”
“Candid,” I remarked. “But I appreciate the candor.”
He snorted. “I’m just rambling without thinking. My head is somehow spinning, yet calmer than I’m used to; things are slipping through the cracks.”
“You know, not to be crude, but, uh, speaking of things leaking through cracks,” I said with a grin. “I’m kind of making a mess...it’s a mess you made of me, but now it’s a mess I’m making of the bed.”
“Oh,” he said, raising his head and looking at me. “God, I wasn’t thinking, was I? That’s going to get dry and crusty soon.”
“I was more concerned about your blanket,” I said, looking down to see that his prediction was already coming true. “Ha, coming.”
He looked at me. “What?”
I gestured to my head. “Sorry, thinking to myself, I accidentally made a pun that was too good to ignore. I had to laugh.”
Arlo looked bemused. “Right. Well, the blanket can be washed. I have another one we can use. But we should probably get you cleaned up. Are you staying?”
“Hm?”
“The night...with me.”
It was the second time tonight I saw shyness from him.
For all his talk about how confident I appeared, he was not much better.
So seeing him unsure or shy about something was strange, but ultimately endearing.
Maybe that, along with the barebacking, was a sign of my effect on him.
If that was the case, I was more than happy to welcome more.
“Well,” I said, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. “I don’t have a reliable way home, and how would I ever survive something as base as a ride share without someone with intimate knowledge of how to use them?”
“If you were attempting to sound haughty, you missed the mark and landed closer to ridiculous.”
“Mmm, missed my mark but found a perfectly acceptable resting place. I can deal with being ridiculous, I have for years,” I told him as I stood up and stretched.
“You’re not ridiculous...not to me,” he said softly.
I turned and smiled. “You don’t have to take care of my feelings, Arlo. I appreciate it, but I’m not beating myself up and feeling sorry for myself.”
He stared at me for a few heartbeats before looking away. “Sometimes I wonder if you are or aren’t. In any case, let me get you a pair of shorts.”
“I suppose our waist size is close enough,” I said.
“I can’t tell if you’re trying to act as if you’ve never worn anything with elastic other than your underwear,” he said as he opened his closet. “Or if you’re trying to assure me that you can wear my basketball shorts because we’re about the same size.”
“Pick whichever option is the funniest to you,” I said with a snort as I took the shorts he offered.
“You can go clean yourself up first. I won’t take as much time,” he said, gesturing toward the door as he pulled shorts on. “Turn left, it’s the first door on the right...not the second.”
I smirked. “Could you imagine if your brother saw me covered in cum, and wearing a pair of your shorts?”
“He might think you were trying to include him.”
“Which is...hilarious.”
“He’s a former troubled kid turned MMA fighter.”
“Ah, well, the hospital bill might be worth the laugh.”
“I doubt that,” he said with a shake of his head. “He wouldn’t hit you anyway. He’s too well trained.”
“Good to know.”
“Washcloths are in the cabinet next to the tub.”
Winking at him, I left his room and went through the first door on the right, hitting the switch as I closed it.
I winced when the bright lights over the mirror came on, and I had to let my eyes adjust. When they did, I looked around the room in faint amusement at the soft pink tile on the floors and walls.
Some tiles had little cracks, but everything, down to the grout, was clean.
There was a rack with two hand towels, one of which had a faded image of a duck wearing a bonnet on it, and the other was a teal color that had probably been bought recently, since it didn’t look worn.
The cabinet was across from the toilet, and I opened it to find washcloths and towels, along with a few bottles of shampoo and conditioner on the bottom shelf.
Grabbing a washcloth, I scrubbed myself.
The warm water got the majority off, other parts I had to scratch, but at least the soap had a soft, almost rain-like smell that I appreciated.
I checked myself out in the mirror, splashing my face with warm water, and for a moment, I was tempted to open the cabinet behind the mirror, but Arlo didn’t deserve to have me rooting through his things.
Plus, he was far more interesting as a mystery that slowly unraveled rather than one I had to solve.
“You’re turn,” I told him when I returned to the room to find him still sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into space.
He shook himself and flashed me a smile. “Okay. If you’re hungry, I can whip something up quickly. I’m not much of a cook, and neither is Dom, so we mostly rely on things out of boxes or deliveries.”
“Would it be weird if I said I was craving something to dip?”
“Hmm, I have some bell peppers and chicken salad Matilda made yesterday.”
“Matilda?”
“Oh...my mom.”
Right, his adopted mom. Curious, because I knew he hadn’t gone into the system until he was eight, and it made me wonder what the story behind his biological mother was.
Considering how candid he was on most subjects, the fact that he’d left that story out was telling.
If he’d left that noticeable gap, there was a reason.
One day, he might find it in himself to tell me, or perhaps I would find the courage to ask.
“That sounds great,” I told him. “Just...no raisins.”
“No raisins,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll be back.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed where he had been, I looked around the room for the first time.
The floor was wood and reminded me of the bathroom floor in that I could see scuffs and worn-out areas, but it was clean, as was the wallpaper, though it was torn a little near the bottom.
The chair I had thrown our clothes on was a small armchair, in the corner next to a bookcase.
A glance at the books showed...well, quite a lot actually.
A romance novel series I’d read and found entertaining if tacky, a few horror books, some biographies, history texts that covered the Civil War, the Silk Road, and, weirdly enough, a book on pottery across countries and time periods.
I barely managed to stifle a yelp when something brushed my leg, and I twisted to find big eyes staring up at me with disdain and curiosity.
The tawny fluffball gave a soft chirrup, and I sighed, bending down to present him a bent finger.
“You must be the brother of Rags. You were supposed to be found earlier, but clearly you are a far better hider than your brother.”
The cat sniffed my finger, looking up and giving another sniff. I raised a brow, waited until he finally decided I was worthy of attention, and promptly headbutted my fingers. “I appreciate your approval.”
Only to learn that approval did not mean I was allowed to pick him up when I tried to scoop him up by his stomach, sending him backing up against the bedside table. “Ah, my apologies. I’ll sit here and bend over to pet you. I forgot myself.”
Miffed, the cat rubbed against my legs, allowing me to pet his head and occasionally stroke his back. He was like the house, a little worn from the looks of the nick in his ear and a toe with a missing patch of fur, but was otherwise lovingly cared for.
The whole place spoke of love and care, even his brother, as outraged as he’d been, hadn’t struck me as angry or bitter.
Just a brother, horrified to see his brother getting groped by a stranger, which wasn’t a wrong reaction.
Dom had quickly made himself scarce and promised to put on headphones in the hopes that Arlo would get laid.
That was the act of a loving, concerned brother.
And what had Arlo said about him? A troubled kid? Well, he didn’t look so troubled now, though I was sure there were marks on his personality and even his body that probably showed...wear and tear. But like everything surrounding Arlo, Dom was loved and cared for and not afraid to love.
It took me a moment to realize that realization, while sweet, was bitter for me.
It was easy to take the opposite and describe my home and my life.
Everything fresh and new, expensive and up to date, but not a trace of love and care.
I had money, power if I wanted, and a family name that could carry me, and yet my life didn’t have the same love and care that Arlo’s bedroom did, let alone the rest of his life.
“Is this the vaunted post nut clarity everyone likes to talk about?” I asked the cat who stared at me. “Oh, what do you know? You’re a cat. You live to be served.”
The door opened, and Arlo shuffled in, sighing. “There you are, Muffin. I wondered why your poor brother was on his own out there. Go on now, I’m closing the door.”
“You don’t let them sleep with you?”
“Of course I do, normally. But if you’re staying here, I can assure you, there’s not nearly enough room for all four of us to share that bed. There’s barely enough room for me with them, let alone you. We’ll end up on the floor.”
“Ah,” I said, thinking that perhaps if we found something long-term, I would have to invest in a large enough bed to house all four of us. “Wait...Rags and Muffin? Your cats are Ragamuffin?”
He chuckled and set a plate piled with peppers, a bowl with the chicken salad, and two beers on the bedside table.
“Milo named them. They came from a lady down the street after she died. No one knew, but she was a hoarder of objects and cats. Poor things weren’t in the best health, and for a couple of weeks, I was afraid they weren’t going to make it. ”
“I noticed his ear and paw.”
“I never did figure out what that was from. Rags has a scar on his face, and part of his tail is missing.”
“Jesus.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Now...how do you feel about America’s Next Top Model?”
I stared at him, pausing in my attempt to grab a pepper. “Seriously...you?”
“Me,” he said with a sheepishness that made me want to kiss him.
“Only if it’s the older seasons. The later ones were absolute garbage,” I said with a little sniff.
“Good,” he said, grabbing a towel off the back of the door and draping it on the bed, then dropping down next to me and pulling out a tablet with a case and stand. “We can sit this and the food between us and munch. I’ll get the blanket out of the closet when we sleep.”
“Sure,” I said, letting him get comfortable on the side against the wall before sliding into bed with him, finally grabbing a pepper. “Sounds good.”
His plan and the rest of the night sounded like the best thing I’d heard of in a long time.