He lets out a loud laugh.
“Yeah, close enough. I’m gonna go clean this toy and change my clothes. Don’t move.”
I listen to my Dante, not moving a muscle and falling asleep while I wait for him to return.
thirteen
DANTE
“Ihope to see you again,” I call to the last customers in the store. The woman grins, swinging the bag, and the man behind her in the wheelchair uses a little extra flourish with each push.
They’re not from here, but they found my shop online when searching for adaptive toys. They’re my least-selling items, but I have an entire section in the store, and this couple wasn’t the first to make the drive so they could see things in person instead of taking a risk online.
More stores like mine really need to stock this stuff. I earn more than enough profit on everything else to justify the cost of buying it all.
But people are weird.
Hell,I’mweird.
I’m in the middle of an intense affair with a Vyastil, and it’s not like the experimenting and fooling around I did with anyone from my past. This is something new.
It’s different.
It’s making me feel things I know I’ve been running from for a long, long time.
My past is…complicated and tricky. I was the obvious queer kid in school who got beat up a lot, then propositioned in abandoned locker rooms by the jocks who just got done shoving me into trash cans.
And the two relationships I did have before I gave up entirely had been both short and ugly. They left behind thick, itchy scars beneath my skin that I don’t like poking at.
They aren’t worth remembering, even if I know I needed to deal with them someday. But on top of the pressure of keeping the shop alive and being there for my family, I also have my pain issues.
Those are the problems I’d rather focus on.
Not the dickheads from my past who made me feel…well…
Less than.
I jump half a foot when my phone buzzes, and I glance down to see that I have an email. The logo looks familiar, and my gut sinks as I open it to see the Vyastil clinic name at the top with an appointment confirmation button in bright blue.
Tuesday at nine.
That’s in two days. Fuuuuuck.
My heart crawls into my throat. I haven’t been called by the clinic in ages. I was kind of hoping my last round of testing told them I was too…I don’t know, fucked up or something for the Vyastil to want my cum.
And now that I have Cielo with me, how the fuck am I meant to undress, let myself get strapped to a chair, and have some stranger suck me off?
And with the way Cielo’s been wildly possessive over me? He’s probably going to flip his fucking lid over this. God, how am I going to tell him?
My phone buzzes again, and this time it’s a FaceTime request from my brother. He’s due back from the expo soon, so I answer and try for a smile when his face appears on the screen.
‘You look like shit,’ is the first thing he tells me.
‘Love you too, asshole.’
He burst into laughter, but I can see something’s off with him. There are dark bags under his eyes, and his smile seems a little forced. Of course, I know Luca. I know that even if I ask, he’s not going to tell me.
I have to wait until he’s here, and then I can ply him with wine and chocolate until he gives in.
