Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
EMMETT
“I’m starting to have buyer’s remorse,” Miles said in the car as they approached the house.
“Can you have that if you didn’t actually buy anything?” Emmett winked at him as he pulled alongside Cosimo’s car and put his in park. He twisted his body so Miles could see his lips easier. “I saw your face when we were shopping. When was the last time someone’s done this for you?”
Miles shrugged. “Look, not to sound like a kicked stray puppy, but the answer is never. But I don’t need people to buy me things in order for me to like them.”
Emmett felt that almost like a punch to the gut, only because he had to acknowledge that one of the ways he’d tried to keep Selene’s love was to buy it. It had created a sort of expectation in him because he behaved that way with a lot of people.
He understood his love language. He showed his affection and appreciation by doing things for people. It was why he so fucking desperately wanted to be a Daddy to someone. To assume that role of care and comfort giver full time. To be able to spoil and praise the absolute fuck out of a lover.
Because he received love best when people let him do those things without putting up a fight. When they allowed themselves to be soft and vulnerable with him. When they showed their tender underbelly and trusted him to take care of all their weak spots.
But he’d been going about it all wrong for way too long which was why no one had ever lasted. And why Cosimo, in spite of his love for Emmett, was starting to resent him just a little.
“Sorry, did I say something wrong?” Miles asked. Before Emmett could answer, he suddenly winced and his head dipped low as he pressed frantic fingers against his temple. “Shit, shit.”
“What’s wrong? Miles? Can you hear me?” Emmett tapped him gently.
Looking up, Miles sighed. “Sorry. Sometimes I get this horrific nerve pain. My surgery as a kid was kind of botched. Half my face was paralyzed for almost a year before I regained movement and sensation.”
Emmett felt something dark and angry in his gut. “Did they attempt to fix it?”
Miles snorted bitterly, then reached up and pulled his left processor off. “The state barely covered these. I got one upgrade when they came out with slightly better technology, but they didn’t try to, you know, fix anything.”
With a frown, Emmett stared at him, then reached up and brushed a hand over his hair. He could feel the tiny magnet beneath his skin. Miles shuddered, but it wasn’t from pain. “I want to hire you a tutor.”
Miles paled. “What?”
“For ASL,” Emmett said. “I know you have a lot going on, and I don’t mean to over-step, but you need hearing breaks, honey.”
Biting his lip, Miles’s gaze cut to the left for a moment. “I take them.”
“But you need to feel safe and comfortable communicating when you do,” Emmett pressed. He took a breath, then made sure that his words were even and clear for Miles to understand. “If it won’t distract you from your work or your research, then please say yes. If only to help with the basics, okay?”
Miles huffed. “I’ll still feel way behind. You and Cosimo are fluent, and I’m…I mean, my skills are a joke.”
“For now. But look at you, Miles. You have fucking conquered everything you set your mind to. You speak what, seven languages? Eight? A dozen?”
Miles laughed, covering his smile with the tips of his fingers. “Not a dozen.”
Emmett grinned at him and gently tugged his hand away from his face before stroking a touch over his jaw. “Why not add this one in too? You deserve to have access to the language you should have been given at birth.”
He took a beat, then moved his gaze from Emmett’s lips to his eyes. “Can I think about it?”
“Yes. But only if you promise to let me teach you a few signs to use in the house so you can take your breaks when you need to.”
“I don’t go in the house much. Are you sure it’s necessary?” Miles pushed back.
Emmett cocked his head to the side. “Yes. Because that’s also something you should do more often. You don’t need to be confined to a shack in the yard.”
“Yeah, the shack in the yard that’s got a fully stocked minibar, WI-FI, the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in, and a pool right outside the front door,” Miles snarked back.
Fuck, Emmett loved when Miles was comfortable enough to be bratty. He wanted to kiss him for it. He thought about what Miles’s lips might feel like on his. How they’d move where Emmett directed them to move. How obedient he would be. The comfort he might take in Emmett’s body.
His breath shuddered in his chest, but he didn’t let it out until he was calmer. “Fair enough. But I want to see you more. I like spending time with you.”
Miles dipped his head and tried to hide a small, shy grin. But he failed. “I like it too.”
Emmett reached out to tip his chin up, then lifted his hand. ‘Good,’ he signed and mouthed.
“I know that one,” Miles said with a tiny laugh, then lifted his fingers to his chin and signed, ‘Thank you.’
Emmett wanted to kiss him again. Instead he signed, ‘You’re welcome,’ mouthing along, but it was clear by the defiant smile on Miles’s face he knew that one too. His heart hammered in his chest with want. With need.
Swallowing back the urge to say fuck it and devour Miles right then and there, he decided he’d take it out on his husband who was definitely waiting for him inside.
By the time dinner rolled around, Emmett was in the mood to play with his husband. He was toying with the vibrator still in Cosimo’s ass, turning it up as high as it could go while he was trying to cook the meat, then buzzing it rapid-fire like a jackhammer when he was plating the pasta.
Cosimo was doing his best to keep his cool, but he was losing it. And Miles had noticed something was off. He had keen eyes and had been tracking Cosimo for a while now, and Emmett knew he was playing with fire.
“You’re taking too long,” Emmett said firmly when Cosimo hesitated at the counter.
Miles sucked in a breath, looking a little horrified.
Emmett knew he needed to be careful. He didn’t want Miles to get the wrong idea before he understood what was happening.
But he also had to get Cosimo in the headspace he needed to be in before they went into the scene.
It was the only way it was going to work.
“Yes, Sir,” Cosimo grunted. Emmett knew what it meant for them, but he also knew it came across sarcastic and rude to Miles.
Which was fine.
That was enough.
Dinner was served, and Cosimo sat down, taking a beat then sighing with relief when he realized Emmett wasn’t going to turn it back on. Miles had his processors on which meant there was a good chance he’d be able to hear it.
And that wasn’t something Emmett was ready to explain to the younger man yet.
“So,” Emmett said, but his words were interrupted by a loud crack of thunder.
Cosimo jolted, then looked over his shoulder. A bolt of lightning lit up the sky. “Was there a weather warning?—”
Before Cosimo could finish his thought, Emmett’s phone began to blare with a storm warning. He picked it up, then sighed. “Gale,” he said. “Looks like it’s going to be a nasty one.”
Miles bit his lip, staring at his plate. “Maybe I should head in so I don’t get struck by lightning on the way outside.”
“Or you could stay here,” Cosimo suggested.
Emmett was startled by that. He knew how much Cosimo needed him. Needed the scene tonight. It was saying something he’d willingly offer that up to make Miles comfortable.
“No, that’s okay. I really like that bed,” Miles said.
There was something in his tone Emmett could read that said he wasn’t telling the entire truth. Maybe they’d gone a little too far tonight. Maybe they were making him uncomfortable.
“If you’re sure?—”
Another crack of thunder, and Miles paled. “I’m not super fond of storms. Do you mind if I go?”
Emmett stood up and gave his husband a look, then grabbed Miles’s plate from the table. “Come with me.”
Miles was up on his feet and following behind like he was born to obey.
Emmett took in an uneven breath, then grabbed a container to pack up the food, and then a couple of the cookies they’d grabbed from a bakery earlier.
He eyed the clothes they’d bought. They were still in bags on the breakfast bar.
“Oh. I can get those,” Miles started.
Emmett caught his arm. “Come over in the morning for breakfast, and I’ll help you put everything away.” He was hoping that in the morning maybe he could convince Miles to unpack in the guest room. But he wasn’t going to hold his breath, either. This probably was all a fantasy.
Miles took the container of food, nodding. The kitchen lit up with a bolt of lightning, and Emmett suddenly found himself with an armful of the younger man. He squeezed tight and counted under his breath.
“Six…seven…eight…”
BOOM !
Still far enough away to safely get Miles to the pool house.
“I’m going to walk you,” Emmett said, still holding him.
Miles let air out of his lungs, then stepped back. “Why? So we both die?”
Emmett laughed and gently rubbed a thumb over his jawline before stopping himself and pulling back. “No one is going to die. The gale is still over the water. It’s not even raining yet. But do me a favor?”
Miles lifted a brow.
“If you get too freaked out, or if the storm gets really bad, come to the house. The guest room is right down the hall, first door on the right. Okay?” He waited until Miles nodded, then he slipped a careful arm around him and guided him toward the back door.
He could feel Cosimo watching from the kitchen table. His gaze was a heavy weight, but it was a welcome one. They would definitely be talking about this later.
Stepping outside, Emmett could feel the press of the storm. The pressure was intense in his head, his sinuses immediately popping. The air was thick with moisture, and he knew in his bones that the rain was coming.
It was going to be…a lot.
“Are you sure?” he asked as they reached the pool house.
Miles hesitated, but only for a second. “I’ll be fine. And I swear I’ll come inside if it gets bad.”
Emmett knew it would have to get hurricane bad in order for Miles to do it. Getting him to eat with them was one thing. Getting him to crack his pride and let himself be welcomed in with them was another. It was going to take work.
He held the door open, and after a beat, followed Miles inside. “Do you mind if I make sure your storm kit is in here?”
Miles waved him off, and Emmett walked to the closet beside the bed and opened the door.
The storm kit was at the top, so he brought it to the table and went through it.
Functional flashlight, a poncho he’d gotten on their trip to Animal Kingdom several years back, some granola bars, several bottles of water, and a couple of slow burning candles.
“I hate leaving you here,” he said when he turned to face Miles.
“I can tell. But I think your husband needs you tonight. He seemed a little…tense.”
Emmett sucked in a breath. Shit. They were being obvious. “He’s alright. He just has a lot on his mind.”
Miles nodded and frowned, but he didn’t say anything more, and that silence told Emmett he was dismissed.
He walked over, then took Miles by the shoulders and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“If you need us,” he said, making sure Miles was looking at his lips, “or if you’re too nervous to walk over by yourself, text me. ”
Miles hummed softly, swayed into Emmett for a second, then pulled away. “Thank you.”
It took Emmett real effort to let go, but he did. He closed the door behind him, and with heavy steps, made his way to the house. Cosimo was no longer in the dining room, and the dishwasher was loaded. Everything was tidy and perfect.
He found his husband in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed with his feet flat on the floor, arms at his sides. It was his resting position. His uncertain position.
“He’s not coming here tonight. Not unless it gets bad,” Emmett said.
Cosimo looked up at him. “If you don’t want to risk it?—”
He crossed the room in four quick strides, taking Cosimo by the jaw and forcing his mouth shut. “You disobeyed me.”
Cosimo swallowed thickly.
“I told you to leave it be. I told you that I would talk to him tomorrow, and what did you do?” After a beat, he loosened his grip just enough that Cosimo could get words out.
“I asked him if it was my fault,” he managed to say.
Emmett squeezed his jaw harder. “You did. You made him feel guilty. Is that how we fucking do things around here?”
“No, Sir.”
“But you fucked up, per usual. You like being a little fuck-up, don’t you?” The words didn’t taste as bitter as they usually did. Not when he’d spent all day spoiling and caring for Miles.
Cosimo let out a trembling breath. “No, Sir.”
“Liar. But I think if we make sure your ass remembers tomorrow what you did today, it won’t happen again.” He let go and took a step back. “On your knees. Show me how sorry you actually are.”