4. West
4
WEST
T he pot of water on the stove was almost at a boil when the lock on the front door clicked and the old hinges squeaked open.
West perked his head, listening to the shuffle as boots were kicked off and a jacket was hastily unzipped and hung on its usual peg.
A moment later, socked feet padded down the hallway, and Luca entered the kitchen.
He was still in his scrubs, hair dusted with fine flakes of snow that were rapidly starting to melt.
“Smells good in here.”
West nodded.
“It’s the garlic. I made a sauce from scratch.”
“Pasta night?” Luca came right up to West’s side and stood on his toes to look over—or more like around—his shoulder, which was unnecessary, as there were plenty of other vantage points in the kitchen from which he could observe the stove.
“Are you making the ones I like? The little tubes?”
“Ziti?”
“Yeah, that’s the fucker.”
West snorted, causing Luca to light right up.
“Yes, I’m making ziti. It shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“How long is that?”
“Mm, maybe about half an hour.”
“Enough time for a shower, thank god. I’m beat. This whole pregnancy thing is really taking it out on me. Who knew creating a whole other human being was so much work?”
“It’s been two weeks,” West said flatly.
Luca laughed and bumped their arms together, using the impact to dramatically ricochet off West and begin his exit from the kitchen.
“Yeah, I know, but what’s the fun in being pregnant if you can’t complain about it? You are in for a long nine months, my friend. My feet already feel like they’re about to fall off, and Google says that’s not even supposed to start until the second trimester. I cannot imagine how insufferable I’ll be when the actual swelling kicks in.”
West’s lips twitched, but he held back a smile.
“I wouldn’t worry. It’ll be swell, I’m sure.”
Luca burst out laughing and chucked a pot holder at West’s head.
West suffered the blow gladly.
After a pun like that, it was well deserved.
“You are the worst. Anyway, I’ll be right back. If it’s ready before I’m downstairs, eat without me, okay? I don’t want you to have to eat cold ziti just because my slow ass wanted to shampoo twice.”
“Okay.”
Luca lingered a moment longer, seeming to search West’s face, then bit his lip and turned on his heel, abandoning the kitchen for wetter pastures.
West glanced at the digital display on the stove.
6:37 PM.
Since Luca knew food was coming, he probably wouldn’t take all that long to shower, despite what he’d claimed.
On a weekend he luxuriated, but on a weekday it typically took him twenty-two minutes to wash up, and an extra ten minutes after that to towel off and conduct his regular grooming.
If his feet really were sore, that estimate might be a little off the mark, but it wouldn’t be by much—not enough that the ziti would get cold.
Confident in his assessment, West added the pasta to the water once it reached a boil, then pulled out the casserole dish.
They may have gone back to being friends, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t keep taking care of Luca in the same way he always had?—
—and if he spoiled him more than usual while doing it, what was the harm in that?
Luca’s shower took exactly as long as West had anticipated, and he arrived downstairs right as West was serving dinner.
They ate at the dining room table while Luca went into great detail about his day at the dental clinic, then settled into their spots on the couch to stream YouTube and unwind before bed.
As usual, Luca took the wireless keyboard and mouse and found something to watch from a channel they both enjoyed—a gaming video from a streamer named Jun_iper.
West wasn’t big into video games, but watching someone else play was oddly satisfying, and Jun_iper did a great job of making his viewers feel like they were part of the experience.
He had an easy, laidback way of talking, an excellent sense of humor, and seemed like a genuinely good guy.
Rumor had it, he’d recently moved to their city to start a family—maybe West would see him in the delivery ward.
Unlikely, but a guy could dream.
Tonight’s video was in Jun_iper’s usual style, his easygoing commentary overlaying his impressive gameplay.
West would have been totally engrossed with it had it not been for Luca, who had begun to fidget in his seat shortly after pressing play, and now, ten minutes later, had yet to stop.
West had a policy of not sticking his nose into other people’s business—he’d learned from experience that people didn’t like to have the odd things they did called out—but this was different.
He knew Luca, and because he knew him, he could tell something was off.
“What’s wrong?”
Luca scrunched his nose and made a moue of discomfort.
“It’s just… ugh. Do you think you could do me a favor? Remember how I was saying my feet were killing me? I thought a shower and some downtime would help, but they’re more sore now than they were before, and it’s really bugging me. Would you be willing to give me a foot rub?”
West glanced at the feet in question.
They were wrapped in fluffy thermal socks, and as recently as Luca had been in the shower, he knew they were perfectly clean.
It was an odd request, sure, but Luca was going through an odd time in his life—there were bound to be all sorts of strange things that happened to his body due to his pregnancy.
It seemed a reasonable enough ask.
But still, West hesitated.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to touch Luca—quite the opposite.
He wanted to touch Luca badly.
Bad enough he wasn’t sure that this was a good idea.
“West?” Luca asked, frowning.
“You okay? You look unhappy. You don’t have to do it if it’s weirding you out. I can go do a foot soak or something.”
“No, I’m fine.” West sat up very straight, which was a very normal and confident thing to do, and not any way indicative of the five-alarm fire’s worth of warning bells blaring in his head.
“I can do it. Come here.”
Luca eyed him suspiciously, then swung his legs up onto the couch and draped them over West’s lap.
He spent another couple seconds wiggling into a comfortable position, then gave West a permissive nod, which would have been fine if only West had any idea what he was supposed to do.
Did he take off Luca’s socks, or would that be going too far?
How much pressure was he supposed to use?
And didn’t massages usually involve some kind of oil or cream?
He glanced at Luca, seeking guidance, but Luca had closed his eyes and dropped his head onto the armrest.
It looked like West was going to have to wing it.
With a silent prayer to the universe, he removed Luca’s socks and applied his thumb to the arch of Luca’s nearest foot.
It did seem a bit more swollen than a foot should be, and was probably tender because of it.
With that in mind, West moved cautiously, applying enough pressure to be firm without causing further pain to see how Luca would react.
When Luca didn’t complain, he proceeded onward, keeping a careful eye out for any signs of discomfort in case he ever went too hard.
Not that Luca seemed to mind when he went hard, but?—
West squeezed his eyes shut, cursing at himself in his head.
Now was not the time to be thinking about how hard Luca liked it.
He’d been very clear that the sex they’d had was a one-time thing.
Now that he was pregnant, they were back to being nothing more than friends.
Entertaining thoughts to the contrary would lead to nothing but heartbreak and frustration.
Determined to distract himself, West put his head down and gave his all to the task at hand.
He worked circles from the delicate arch of Luca’s foot toward the pad at the base of his toes.
He would not think about how, just two short weeks ago, he’d palmed other parts of Luca’s body, and how Luca had liked it, rewarding him with lips, and teeth, and tongue…
As though reading his mind, Luca moaned in delight.
West almost dropped his foot in surprise.
“God, West,” he groaned.
“That feels good. Have your hands always been this talented? You’ve been holding out on me.”
“My hands are the same as they’ve always been,” West said in a hurried rush, mouth on autopilot.
“Is it too much? Do you want me to stop?”
“No, keep going. You’re doing great.”
The reassurance was nice, but it didn’t solve West’s problem.
The more they touched, the more sounds of pleasure Luca made, and the more he made, the more West’s thoughts strayed from the innocent.
Luca was clearly enjoying this.
It wouldn’t be difficult at all to move from his foot, to his ankle, up his leg, and then…
West bit the inside of his lip.
It was better not to think about it.
There was no point in fantasizing over things that could never be.
“I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you went to school for this,” Luca said with a moan as West began to work over his other foot.
“I’m about to abuse the shit out of this secret superpower of yours. Even though I take stretch breaks at work, hunching over patients all day is killing my back. What do you say—will you use your powers for good and help save this poor, sore dental hygienist from becoming a human pretzel?”
Heat flooded West’s cheeks.
“Sure. I can do that. Do you want me to start now?”
“No. God, no. You are not allowed to stop.”
West snorted and glanced at the television.
Twenty-eight minutes remained on the Jun_iper video.
When it ended, Luca would want to get up to use the bathroom like he always did at this time of night, and once that happened, the foot rub would be over, and West would be able to tame his thoughts and go about the rest of his night.
He could make it.
Twenty-eight minutes wasn’t all that long—somehow, someway, he’d figure out how to behave.