Chapter 19
Nineteen
-MILO-
“All I kept thinking was, the seats on this bus will be covered in skid marks.” I poke my key into the front door of my apartment.
“Yeah, there were a few in that courtroom who looked like they never heard of hygiene. But it was nice seeing how comfortable people got with their bodies. Being nude is an attitude-leveller.”
“Attitude-leveller?”
“Well, you know, everyone’s equal when they’re naked.”
“Like at a sauna.” I open the door, smirking at my own joke.
I let Grayson step in first. “I didn’t think you’d have carpet.
Oh wow.” His open-mouthed stare shows me he’s impressed.
“This is bigger than I thought. You own this flat, don’t you?
There’s cool carpentry...” He wanders in further and runs his hand across the wall mounted bookshelves.
“This is some seriously chunky wood. A landlord wouldn’t renovate to this standard. ”
“Mum bought me this flat.” I’m suddenly sad I mentioned her.
I was even sadder when we visited to collect my spare key because, although she didn’t look too abnormal this afternoon, it was the way she licked her lips while staring at naked Grayson which worried me.
She’s too straitlaced to be a cougar. All that salivating over my boyfriend gave me the heebie-jeebies.
I still hope Maude, or even Grayson once he masters his skills, can turn Mum back to the worrywart she was.
While we were there, Mum offered sportswear and only Grayson had the good sense to consider comfort.
I thought a fan might recognise me and ask for a selfie, so I borrowed a pale shirt and white slacks.
The truth is, I don’t have enough followers to be identified if Summer’s not with me, and these pants are pinching my privates.
Grayson is admiring the framed movie poster above the dining table.
Gort, the robot from The Day the Earth Stood Still, is carrying a blonde woman who looks nothing like the film’s co-star Patricia Neal.
And because I think Grayson recognised Captain Picard’s voice on my phone, there’s a very good chance he is into science fiction.
“Have you seen that flick?” I ask.
“Of course. That and The Blob and Cat People. And a whole lot of modern sci-fi.”
“You’re a man who keeps surprising me.” My words sound romantic. Yep, I’m falling deeper. “Thanks for sticking up for me in court.”
“Well, I was probably the next person to take the stand so I spoke for both of us.” Grayson looks at my original Planet of the Apes poster, the one from 1968. “I’ve only seen the remakes.”
“Grayson, what am I to you?”
“That’s a shift in conversation.”
“Am I your boyfriend, fuck buddy, friend?”
“You told me to leave your mother’s place.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.” Grayson wanders back to the shelves and surveys the books. “That time your mum’s neighbour showed up claiming her dad was missing.”
“Oh yes, I did,” I realise. And now Grayson’s being aloof, nosing around my décor with a change in mood. “I’m sorry about that. I just thought as we had sex...”
“We had sex before you threw me out of Amelia’s place.” He pulls out a novel, glances at the cover, then puts it back. “And after what happened to her, and after our spat at that old-fashioned gay club, I just assumed I was in the friend zone.”
“But you stuck up for me in court.”
“That’s what friends do, Milo.”
Grayson has a point. And it’s a thought I had earlier on the bus when I remembered all those times Summer never spoke up on my behalf. But Grayson did.
He’s admiring my toy monkey. The one that crashes cymbals. He’s about to wind it up, but I need to clarify a few things first.
“Grayson, can you, or that magic realm diva woman—”
“Maude.”
“Yes, Maude! That’s her name. Can you or Maude cure my mother?”
“Is that why you’re keeping me around?”
“No. Of course not. Why are you being prickly?”
Grayson lets out a lingering sigh. “Self-preservation.”
“Sit.” I point at my sofa. “Would you like some raspberry kombucha, or a glass of water?” I head for the fridge and open it.
Grayson looks like he’s changing his mind about being here. But then he sits, crossing his legs and straightening his back, being way too formal. “Kombucha,” he finally replies.
I’m relieved. People often choose water when they don’t intend to stay long. Opting for kombucha is a good sign. I grab two bottles and sit with him.
“We don’t know much about each other,” I begin. “And you’re often detached, overthinking, and I can’t work out why. So, what’s with the self-preservation?”
Grayson is silent, so I wait. There’s a glint in his eye. A tear which hasn’t formed.
“My mum threw me out when I was seventeen.”
“OMG.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Did your mum tell you why she...?” I let this half-sentence linger as I don’t want these words to trigger pain.
“She said she couldn’t save me and to this day, I don’t know what from. Me and my sister had normal childhoods up until then.”
“Does your sister have a theory?”
“She has no idea. She cried when I left home.”
“And your mum didn’t throw her out?”
“She was too young to fend for herself.”
“But you were seventeen, Grayson. That’s too young to fend for yourself.”
“Is it?”
I’m not sure what to say. I need to delve deeper but I know it’s not my place to dig up his past. And Grayson’s demeanour makes sense. Even his devotion to Penelope makes sense. He has no one, and after a trauma like being kicked out of home, no wonder he acts like a lone wolf.
“We should talk about something cheerful,” he says.
I want to know where Grayson’s mother is now. Or what his father had to say when he was ejected from their home. And I’m dying to know what his sister is like.
“You’re curious about a lot, aren’t you?” Grayson says.
“How did you know?”
“It’s the way you looked at me.”
“Can you read my mind?”
“I know I can smell lies but...”
“You can smell lies?”
“Don’t ask. I’ll explain some other time. But it just makes sense that you’re wondering where my mum is now—”
A silver stream of fog appears, and a shiny trinket shaped like a woman floats inside it. Another two trinkets form, one of a man and another of a child.
“You see that, don’t you, Milo?”
“I’ve seen it before, at the club when Piers accepted me into the magic realm.”
Grayson uncrosses his legs and tries to smile. “Both my parents are dead now, but my dad died when I was very young. And my sister has a wife, and they’re the two people I’m closest to.”
Again, I have no idea what to say. Grayson’s cold reserve is spooking me. There’s only one thing to do in this situation.
I take the drink from Grayson, then hold his hand.
I stand and Grayson does the same, giving me a tender grin within a distant gaze.
I’m keen to follow my heart, and tending to Grayson’s vulnerability is more important than dramatic legal cases, Summer’s disappearance, or a mother who freaks me out.
Besides, Grayson defended me in court, so I should tend to his wounds. I lead him to my bedroom, and somehow, Grayson seems oddly willing after sharing tales of the person who should have loved him unconditionally.
I guess that’s my job. To give him unconditional love.
I peel his sweatshirt off and as I fold it, I see the tutu, the slippers, and the top hat on my bed, next to my phone, keys, and the ring Summer gave me as a gift. Grayson moves the items from the bed and places them on my chest of drawers. I help him, then pucker up.
Grayson wraps his arms around me, the need to be treasured evident in his embrace. We kiss gently, not passionately, but there’s sufficient desire to build upon.
I pull away so I can lead him onto my bed. We lie down and as we continue to kiss, I’m fully aware of my lover’s raw emotion in the tremble of his murmurs.
“I think I love you.” I know this is premature, but Grayson needs to hear it.
“I feel the same.” He’s tearier than before.
“You’re safe here.”
Grayson’s lip quivers. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess.”
I run my fingers through his hair, then dive in for another kiss. Grayson responds tenderly and I’m surprised at my ability to nurture. I’m usually the spoilt one who floats through life on a cloud, yet here and now, I’m the one taking care of someone else’s needs. Someone else’s heart.
And it feels good to nurture. It feels good to express love.
Grayson is groaning, allowing himself to get lost, inviting me to do the same. I push the tip of my tongue through Grayson’s lips. Grayson responds. And this kiss becomes more intimate than anything we got up to in that kinky sex room.
Fervour rises. Dicks are adjusted until it is clear our clothes need to be lost. I pull off Grayson’s track pants, and I don’t waste time dispensing with my ball-constraining slacks. And my shirt only gets half-unbuttoned before Grayson peels it over my head.
Two naked men are ready to play.
Grayson savours me this time. His steady mouth rises and falls, and I grow to full attention. The bristles on Grayson’s chin, the result of a weeklong growth, tickle my knob, and I soon reward Grayson with the tangy taste of precum. I know because there’s that satisfied delight on his face.
The giver and the taker. The healer and the disheartened. But these roles will blur as our pleasure takes over, and we seek escapism. That’s the best part about having sex.
Grayson moves his mouth away, the link between his lips and my dick evident in the thread of precum as fine as a spider’s web. “Do you have lube?” he asks.
I point to the top drawer beside my bed.
Grayson reaches in, then greases my erection, relishing its rigid shape before moving his butt over it. He teases me, staying in position, caressing his own knob.
“Oh, come on now. I’ll blow if you don’t sit.”
Grayson eases it in, gasping in pain, wincing in pleasure. And when it’s fully in place, Grayson writhes.
The longing I feel is shared through our gazes. It’s an invitation to go beyond the pleasantries and pick up the pace. So I thrust and Grayson bounces, creating a rhythm.