Theo
THEO
Jogging down the stairs from his apartment, burst onto the sidewalk outside. At the sight of the well-built man in jeans and a t-shirt standing on the curb, he felt a little flutter ripple across his chest.
Grant caught sight of him and smiled gently. “Hey.”
“Hey,” tossed back.
Blue eyes caught the light from the streetlamp and the odd mixture of nerves and excitement twisted in ’s gut. Five weeks. Was that all it took for Grant to go from someone fun to tease and talk with to someone who left him wondering if he should jump forward or run as fast as he possibly could in the other direction?
Grant finally pulled his gaze away, looking up and down the street. “When you said you lived in a rough part of the city, you weren’t exaggerating.”
“Nervous, Dr. Andrews?” teased.
Grant shrugged lightly. “Not really. There are worse places. However, it does beg the question of why you’d choose to live here. Surely, you could afford better.”
“You say better, I say boring,” said.
He supposed he could theoretically live somewhere else. His bills weren’t that high, but the money he shoved aside for other reasons really drained him. Going somewhere else would mean tightening the belt or donating less. There was no way in hell the second option would ever happen, and he was too comfortable where he was even to be tempted by the first.
Grant cocked his head. “And there it is again.”
blinked. “Huh?”
“That look you get when...I don’t know, like you’re thinking something, but I know you’re not going to share it with the rest of the class.”
laughed softly. “Has anyone ever told you that you think too much?”
“I’m starting to think that accusation is more true for you.”
Well, maybe he lived a little too much in his head, but he’d yet to decide whether that was a good thing or not. Then again, he’d yet to meet a creator who didn’t possess that very same personality trait. imagined there were creative people in the world who didn’t get spun around and flipped about by their own thoughts, lost in their own worlds. Personally, he thought they had to be some weird-ass people and wasn’t sure if he never wanted to meet one or had to make sure he did one day.
Decisions, decisions.
“Now you’re thinking something random and off the wall,” Grant mused.
scowled. “Am not.”
“You wear your emotions on your face, .”
“Do not.”
Grant chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, going straight to ’s groin. “Absolutely do.”
God, loved it when Grant’s soft and gentle voice found the depths to rumble and growl. He wasn’t even sure Grant was doing it intentionally most of the time. It seemed to slip from the man accidentally or when he was in the middle of fucking around with . Then again, he’d also accepted that it might just be a Pavlovian reaction. He’d heard it enough times when Grant was in his throat, or they were fucking, and so he found his thoughts drifting to a naked, hard-as-a-rock doctor with a sex voice like gravel.
Grant’s eyes narrowed. “And now?—”
scowled. “Do you want to come in or talk on the damn sidewalk?”
Grant chuckled, stepping forward and wrapping an arm around ’s waist. A shiver ran down ’s spine as the strong arm pulled him closer, flush against Grant’s body. He breathed deeply, catching the scent of soap, the almost spicy cologne that Grant wore, and something else that thought of as just Grant. He leaned into the kiss, letting a soft noise of pleasure rumble between their lips.
“Trying to get me into your bed already?” Grant asked in a rough whisper.
hummed. “Word on the street is that you’re a sure thing, Doc.”
“Oh, and what street is that?”
“Mm, this one.”
Grant chuckled, kissing gently before reluctantly letting him go. couldn’t help his wry amusement at how bold Grant had become. There was a certain irony that as...whatever they were went on longer, Grant grew more comfortable, while felt like he could hear the walls slowly moving to pen him in.
He pushed the thought aside, unwilling to dwell on it while Grant stared at him so warmly. had no idea how such dark blue eyes could burn with such warmth, and he hadn’t asked. He was pretty sure the minute he asked, Grant would somehow lose the ability.
“C’mon, you,” muttered, taking Grant’s wrist and pulling him into the building and up the stairs.
“Do you need someone to look at these stairs,” Grant asked.
chuckled. “Why, you know someone?”
“Me.”
stopped on the next landing, cocking his head. “Really?”
Grant nodded, pushing on a loose board. “My father was a carpenter. I’m not exactly licensed, but you can’t spend over two decades of your life around that and not pick things up.”
knew Grant hadn’t grown up in a world resembling the one knew. He’d known Grant had grown up in a struggling household and that his mom had been a waitress.
“Didn’t know that,” said.
Grant chuckled. “My dad still insists that he needs to come and fix things up for me.”
“Not a good idea?”
Grant snorted. “He’s sixty-eight. There’s no need for him to drive three hours and fix a squeaky step I can do myself or fix a window when I can pay people to do it for me. He hates the second option, but I have to remind him that my money should be used to help people who do that sort of thing for a living.”
“Oh yes, good for the economy,” said with a laugh, trotting up the stairs.
“I do my absolute best to stay out of talking economics or politics with my father,” Grant said in a pained voice.
“Oh my, are you a dreaded Republican?” teased.
“Worse. Apolitical.”
“Ooh, that is nasty. How can you sleep at night?”
“I do it easily and quite comfortably at that.”
“Yeah, I bet you do.”
“Especially after I pay you a visit.”
“That does help.”
Not that would know. He had yet to linger too long on the few occasions he’d gone to Grant’s house. Grant typically had to work, and the idea of sleeping over always left with that awkward, squirming sensation in his gut. It was an appealing idea, but God save him, he hadn’t been able to commit to it just yet.
grabbed the handle to his front door. “Aw, am I wearing the old man out?”
A weight pressed against him from behind, a strong hand taking hold of his upper arm and twisting him around. Facing Grant, he grunted as his back was pushed against the cool metal door and then groaned as Grant kissed him hard. gave as good as he got, pushing himself roughly toward Grant, groaning when the man thrust against him, pinning ’s hips against the door and holding him there.
“Do I feel worn out to you?” Grant growled.
Oh, good lord, he felt anything but. licked his lips, shivering as he felt the thick length of Grant’s cock between them. As much as he was more than a little freaked by how comfortable they were getting, wouldn’t argue against seeing more of this from Grant. Grant had taken to sex with him like a dolphin took to water and with as much enthusiasm as well.
“No, you definitely feel like something, though,” said, reaching between them and grinning at Grant's hiss as his fingers stroked him.
Grant hummed, nibbling at ’s jaw. “Open the door, .”
And boy, did he love the promise in those four words.
Like a good boy, he gripped the handle again, yanking the sliding metal door open with a squeal of its hinges. Still holding Grant’s gaze, he stepped into his apartment.
He spread his arms wide. “Voila!”
Grant stepped in, eyes darting rapidly in every direction. watched him with interest, trying to catch every emotion that crossed the man’s face. Grant could say wore his emotions in every expression, all he wanted, but Grant wore every thought openly. It was fascinating to watch Grant process something new or interesting, as it had been from the moment had watched him study the painting.
Grant glanced over his shoulder toward the stairwell. “What was this building originally?”
chuckled, sliding the door closed behind him. “An old canning factory that went out of business. It turns out making deals with criminals to sabotage your competitors is not only illegal but also very bad for business.”
“I imagine it would be,” Grant murmured, running his hands over one of the central pillars as he walked around.
“Technically, I have the run of the entire building, but what’s the point? All that’s downstairs is a bunch of rusted machinery, broken glass, and probably a whole ecosystem. This floor was originally for the first stages of the canning process. All the vegetables would get cooked up here and proceed down a chute to the next stage. Don’t look for it, I had someone come out and cover the damn thing up after some idiot I had over went and fell through the thing.”
Grant’s eyes found him from across the room, glittering. “Someone, huh?”
snorted. “Yes, but I pretty much kept everything else the same. Except the windows. Those needed to be repaired because I might live on the top floor of a rundown, probably haunted factory, but that doesn’t mean I have to freeze.”
“Haunted?” Grant asked with a raised brow, looping back around to .
shrugged. “There were rumors. Between the owners letting the company move illegal goods and all the workplace hazards, because OSHA was a fever dream at that point, people were sure it was haunted.”
Grant hummed thoughtfully, moving toward ’s painting space. “Any ghosts or ghoulies?”
“That’s a reference,” said.
“It is.”
“One I’m not getting.”
Grant sighed. “Ah, now I feel old.”
“If I comment on your age, how badly do my chances of getting laid drop?”
Grant glanced over his shoulder, winking. “They won’t, but I might get my feelings hurt.”
“Well, we can’t have that,” said.
Grant nodded his head toward the easel. “That what you’ve been working on?”
“Yeah, my latest little obsession.”
“You say as if I didn’t notice the two days of radio silence.”
It was said easily and without a trace of anger, but frowned. He had, after all, known that his habit of disappearing from the face of the planet for days at a time wasn’t readily accepted by others. Grant had never made a snide comment or acted angrily, but had noticed him bring it up more than once. suspected it bothered the man, and it bothered that it bothered Grant, which he also suspected is why Grant never brought it up.
frowned. That was a lot of bothering he just thought about.
“Can I look?”
blinked, trying to remember what they were talking about. “Oh, uh, sure, I guess.”
“Look at me, getting a peek at the work in progress,” Grant said with a chuckle.
“Don’t get too excited.”
Grant rounded the easel, his eyes searching the canvas, practically devouring it. waited, watching Grant’s face as he took in the incomplete painting. had been trying to capture the restaurant Grant had first taken him to from the perspective of the little booth they’d sat in. It was only after he’d spent half a day griping and hyper-focusing on getting the lighting and shadows just right that he’d finally given up and called Grant for a little visit.
Yet there it was, the light craved so much, filling Grant’s eyes as he looked it over. He almost cringed when Grant reached out as though to touch the canvas, stopping a few inches from the surface. Grant tipped his head to one side, sparkling eyes dancing over the painting as though he didn’t want to miss the slightest detail.
“I guess I did alright then,” said, trying for light but ending up hoarse.
When Grant looked up, the light in his eyes had become fire, and felt his gut tighten. Grant walked around the easel and marched toward with a determination that had him coiled and ready to go. The hot and heavy kissing in the stairwell had been fun, but the look in Grant’s eyes was intoxicating.
Later, with the two of them naked and sweaty on the couch, flopped his head against Grant’s broad chest. He chuckled, letting himself relax.
“What’s so funny?” Grant asked, eyes flashing open.
“Didn’t know art did it for you. If I’d known that, I would have shown you some of my other stuff earlier.”
Grant kissed the top of his head, wrapping him up in strong arms. “Art doesn’t do it for me. Your art kinda does, especially when it’s something like that. Something that...means something to me too.”
Ah, there was that unhappy squirm again, followed by a pleased flush.
nodded, knowing it was better to keep silent than risk his traitorous mouth saying something they’d both regret. Art was art and meant to be interpreted by the viewer even more than the creator. If Grant wanted to see a meaning that hadn’t intended, then so be it. That was his call. It didn’t mean had meant the same thing when creating it.
It didn’t, damn it.