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A slow smile of such happiness lit up Holden’s face that Tyler almost choked up. He actually gives a damn. He actually does. “That’s fucking amazing, Tyler. I’m so glad.”
Tyler bit his lip. “You don’t know what you did for me last night, man.” His voice was small, unsteady.
Holden started to look choked too, and embarrassed. “It was just a joint.”
Tyler shook his head. “I owe you. I owe you big time.” They stared at each other. Tyler half hoped Holden would suggest that he dropped to his knees. He’d be more than happy to repay Holden that way.
“Well, you can get your leg on and come start the painting, how about that?” Holden’s smile was so warm, so goddamn charming.
Tyler nodded. “After coffee. I have to have coffee before I tackle the beast.” He meant the leg, not Holden’s decorating.
Holden looked unsure. “Don’t force it if you’re not ready.”
“I think it’ll be okay,” Tyler said.
Holden stepped back. “There’ll be breakfast waiting when you’re ready.”
Tyler smiled. “See you soon.”
Holden turned away. He lifted a hand as he crossed the yard and disappeared inside. Tyler’s heart was beating hard when he closed the door. He hopped to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee as a voice started to berate him.
You’re not actually going to make a play for him, right? Do you know how old he is? Forties? Fifties? Your dad’s age!
I’m not sure I fucking care. Tyler’s cock was still hard. He gave it a rub through his shorts. Imagine how experienced he is. Fuck, he probably knows stuff that’ll blow my head off.
Stop. This is not going to have a happy ending.
The only happy ending I want is my dick buried deep in his ass as I pump it full of cum.
Tyler put his coffee down and hopped to the bathroom for a shower. Leaning against the wall with one arm while the hot water rained down on him, he jerked off, imagining Holden on his knees looking up at him with those dark eyes and his mouth full of cock.
Tyler sat on the bed and rolled on the liner. He tore open the plastic package Finn had given him and admired the thick stump socks inside. When he slid them over the pin and up his leg, he felt optimistic that the prosthesis might actually fit properly now. He maneuvered the cup over his stump and stood, wriggling his stump into the socket, backward and forward, applying more pressure, waiting to hear the click.
There.
He stood on two legs, with equal pressure on both, assessing. It felt okay. He rocked the prosthesis to see if it was loose. It felt snug. He stepped forward, good leg first, false leg second. He walked across the bedroom and into the hall to the front door, and back. All felt good, but many days had started off like this before, only for Tyler to be wrenching the leg off an hour down the line and applying another sock. Applying, taking off, doubling, ad nauseam. He was so fucking sick of all the fiddling with the fucking leg. So sick and tired.
He walked right out of the door before he could think anything further. Across the yard he went with no rubbing, no squeezing, no pressure. With his body feeling light, and his heart lighter, he knocked on Holden’s door.
Holden answered with a delicious waft of toast following him out. He glanced down at Tyler’s prosthesis and smiled. He held up his fist for a bump. Tyler tapped his own against it. As he followed Holden inside, he remembered the blowback from last night. Accidentally kissing Holden because he was too stoned to keep his lips an inch apart without falling into the guy. It was a brush of soft lips, that was all, but thinking about it now made Tyler’s mouth tingle. It made him want the firm pressure of Holden’s lips and his tongue in Tyler’s mouth. He thought again of sliding down Holden’s lean body and leaving his nipples glistening with saliva. Leaving a trail right down to Holden’s dick.
He shook his head free of his thoughts as Holden led him into the kitchen where the table was set with a mountain of pancakes and fruit. “Sit down.” Tyler did so. He thanked Holden as he set down a mug of coffee for him before settling himself. “Sugar? Cream?”
“No, thanks.”
Holden speared two pancakes and transferred them to Tyler’s plate before placing two on his own. He gestured to the maple syrup and Tyler helped himself. Holden drank some coffee. “So, I put some dust sheets down, sanded down the baseboards. They’re ready to paint.”
“You’ve been busy,” Tyler said around a mouthful of pancake.
“Yeah.” Holden glanced over his shoulder, down the hallway. “I think I know where the sheriff killed that guy.”
Tyler stared at him.
“There’s some staining on the wood. In the cracks.”
“Jesus Christ.” Tyler shook his head. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t have said anything, you wouldn’t have noticed.”
“Don’t worry.” Holden chewed a strawberry. “I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”
