twenty-eight #2
“Come on, try it.” I shove the food closer to his face. He shakes his head, so I push out my bottom lip, make my eyes bigger and look up at him through my eyelashes. “Please,” I beg, putting a tiny bit of a whine into my tone for good measure.
“Fine.” Leo rolls his eyes. I grin widely, feeling like I won a battle. Like maybe Leo is developing a soft spot for me like he has for his other friends. Too bad we will never be able to explore it.
Leo reaches for it, but I shake my head, slowly guiding the toast to his lips.
He acts like he isn’t going to open his mouth for a split second, but I pout a tiny bit more, and he gives in quickly.
I guide the corner inside Leo's open mouth, and he bites off a piece.
I pull it away, waiting for his reaction.
At first, he looks disgusted, but the more he chews the more pleased he seems.
I smirk, my expression very much saying ‘I told you so’.
“Okay... that’s not the worst thing I’ve had in my mouth,” Leo concedes after he swallows, and I can’t stop my mind from bringing up the images of Leo swallowing my cum after he had swiped his finger through it.
I suppress a groan, pushing the very naughty thought from my mind.
I hope we get to do that at least once more before we leave this house for good.
“Oh, come on. You liked it!” I exclaim, rolling my eyes and taking another bite from where Leo had just eaten.
“It wasn’t horrible. I think it’s more so the texture for me,” Leo admits, smiling at me almost as if he can’t help it. “Wanna try some of mine?” Leo asks a moment later, pointing down at his take out.
“What is it?” I ask, peering inside.
“I don’t actually know. It looked good, so I got it.” Leo shrugs and I giggle. “I think it’s a hippie take on eggs benedict, but I could be wrong. It’s good, though.”
I agree that it looks good, the yolk of the perfectly poached egg broken and spilling onto the rest of the food.
My mouth waters. I nod, and he slowly gathers a bite onto his fork, making sure to get a little bit of everything.
He guides the fork into my waiting mouth, and I close it.
It feels oddly erotic when Leo slowly pulls the tines of the fork from between my lips.
“That is really good,” I say, after I chew. Leo smiles, and we spend the rest of our breakfast sharing more bites with each other and drinking our coffees.
“Now that you have a full belly, get dressed and come downstairs for a surprise.” Leo gestures to the bags in the corner, a black GUCCI logo written across them.
“What are those?” I ask, my eyebrows reaching my hairline.
“I asked Evan and Fletcher to drop by your place last night and grab you some clothes. I thought you might be tired of wearing mine.” Leo swipes his hand through his hair, obviously nervous.
“Oh… did they run into any trouble?” I ask.
“Surprisingly, no. It wasn’t even roped off as a crime scene. The system wasn’t even reactivated."
“That’s weird. Isn’t that weird?” I ask, biting my lip.
“Yeah… it's a bit weird,” Leo confirms. “Anway, we don’t have time to figure it out. Get dressed.” Leo gathers our trash up into his hands and exits the room.
I get up curiously, bending over to look in the bags. The clothes in there were exactly what I would have worn a week ago. But none of it feels right. I don't want to wear any of it.
Instead, I look through Leo's drawers to find a pair of comfortable jeans and a T-shirt. I’ve gotten used to being enveloped by the smell of Leo, and I would prefer to spend the day that way.
Leo doesn’t ask why I didn’t wear any of the clothes he brought for me when I walk downstairs dressed in his things. He looks at me with wide eyes for a second before he breaks into a big smile of approval.
“Sit down,” Leo instructs, and I obliged. A few seconds later, Leo produces a bag out of nowhere, setting it in my lap. I quickly dive into the opening, finding a shoe box.
“I know they aren’t Gucci or whatever, but Gucci doesn't make the kind of shoes you need for today’s activities,” Leo rambles, and I’ve never seen calm, collected Leo this nervous.
He can break into a millionaire’s house without breaking a sweat but giving me a shoe box has him averting his gaze, fidgeting, jumbling his words.
I run my finger over the logo on the box.
“Why did you get me shoes?” I question, but Leo doesn’t answer.
Instead, he looks like he is going to explode any minute, so I smile up at him before I look back down at the box, slowly opening it.
Inside there’s a pair of black, leather boots.
I pull one out of the box, and it is heavy in my hand, the ridged sole rough against my palm.
“They’re motorcycle boots. I know they aren’t your style exactly, but they should be your size. I checked your loafers to make sure I got it right. They need to fit you,” Leo explains, each word coming out quicker than the last.
“Why do I need motorcycle boots?” My brows are drawn together as I look up at Leo. He rolls his gunmetal gray eyes, a small smile on his face, as if he thinks I should have figured it out by now.
“Because I’m going to teach you how to drive a motorcycle." Leo’s smile widens as if the idea is brilliant.
“How? We can’t leave the house, Lee.”
“I know that, Princess. We’re going to the garage,” Leo responds, as if it’s so obvious.
“You have a garage?” I’ve seen the outside of the house, but only the back.
I didn’t realize there was a garage. It must be only accessible through the front.
I don't even think I’ve seen a door that could lead to one.
Leo's washer and dryer are in the room by the back door. I cannot recall ever seeing a garage.
“Yeah. I’ve had it the entire time. I didn’t just build it this morning while you were asleep.” Leo chuckles. “I never felt the need to show you because it's where I tinker with my bike. Now put these on, then your new shoes.” Leo throws a pair of white socks in my lap.
“Is there enough room?” I ask, confused by this garage.
I’ve only seen the house from the outside three times.
The day they brought me here, the day we went on our field trip, and the day we went to the shelter.
I only saw the back of the house all three times.
There is a driveway and a parking area back there. I don’t recall a garage.
“Yeah. It’s basically the size of the whole house,” he says, and when I give him a look of pure confusion, he clarifies, “You’ve only seen my house from the back, and the garage isn’t accessible back there. Basically, my house sits on top of my garage.” I can get a vague picture in my mind.
“Why are you teaching me to drive a motorcycle, though?” I ask, pulling the right sock on then the right shoe.
“Because I figured we could do something fun in case this is my last day on Earth. I promise we won’t do anything extreme. I just want to teach you how to ride around a little bit. Nothing fancy, just something for you to remember me by, you know?”
Leo’s tone is much too chipper for such a sad statement, but his voice cracks on the word ‘remember’, and my heart cracks with it.
“Okay. Yeah.” I try to keep my own voice from breaking. It doesn’t work. I have to force the words around a giant lump that won’t go away.
I don't want to think about the fact that Leo may be dead in a few short hours.
My heart and brain literally can’t handle that information.
I try to breathe evenly. I force my eyes to stay open, a weak attempt to battle back the tears that are there.
I try to push the sad thoughts from my mind as I slip the sock on my left foot followed by the shoe.
Once I’m done, I stand up. The boots fit perfectly, and I find them very comfortable despite how stiff they are. I follow Leo to the secret door that’s not very secret. It’s right there in the kitchen. I had always assumed it was a storage closet.
We walk down the stairs, and I look around, shocked to find Leo has strung fairy lights all around the gloomy garage, giving it a gentle glow.
It’s huge with so many tools and other trinkets filling the walls that I could never learn all of the names.
Near a table covered with oily mechanical parts is a large table, with a ramp leading up to it.
There are two garage doors, both cracked, a cool draft coming through.
“Okay. So first I’m gonna walk you through the important parts of the bike and what everything does,” Leo starts, quickly walking toward the motorcycle propped in the middle of the open space. I am already unsure about this.
Leo straddles the bike as if it's an extension of himself and not a powerful machine. It might be the sexiest thing I have ever seen, my mind quickly going back to climbing on the back of his bike, holding on to him tightly as we rode through the city.
Leo points to a few different areas of the bike, showing me what they are and what they do. I try to pay attention, I do, but I’m so distracted by the way his tattooed, muscled arm flexes when he grabs the handle bars. The way his thick thighs squeeze the beast between them.
God, I want him to bend me over this thing and fuck me into oblivion. Jesus where had that thought come from.
“Okay… first things first, you have to learn to balance on the bike first.”
Leo swings his leg, getting off the bike with the grace of a figure skater.
He gestures to the bike, and I look at it forlornly.
It feels like Leo is asking me to mount a dragon.
When I do move, Leo’s big hands envelop my hips, and gently push me toward the seat.
I take a deep breath, then swing my leg over the bike, much like I had done when I rode on the back with Leo that day. This feels entirely different though. Leo isn’t in control of this monster, I will be. A thrill shoots up my spine.
“Okay, now you’re going to stand with your legs out,” he instructs, and I stand, my feet planted on either side of the bike, my stance wide. “Yeah, like that.” He nods with a smile. It’s a tiny detail, barely the beginning of the lesson, but if Leo is proud of me then I will gladly take it.
“Tip the bike side to side,” Leo says, kicking the stand out from the bike and grabbing the bars.