“It’s in there, but it’s under a pile of Howie’s stuff. I used the pull-out last night.” He pointed at the sofa.
“The pull-out it is.” Malcolm glanced down at his jeans and sneakers. “You, uh, got some sweats I can borrow to sleep in? I’d hate to subject you to me in my underwear again.”
“I think I’ll be able to resist your underwear. I am so tired right now, Monte, you could kiss me like we were seventeen again, and I wouldn’t be able to get it up.”
“Is that a challenge?”
Iggy started to reply, and a deep yawn seized his entire upper body.
Malcolm understood. Together, they got the sofa bed turned down. Iggy fetched blankets from the spare room, which had been his bedroom for about three years, and still felt like home, despite the piles of boxes and bags of things Uncle Howie had accumulated over the years. Which didn’t bother Iggy in the least. He didn’t live there, and his uncle could use the space however he liked. That little room had briefly belonged to Iggy for the longest sequential period of Iggy’s life, even as an adult.
He and Darren had moved around a lot, too, always chasing something bigger than what they’d tried having together.
Iggy had pajamas, but he did the same as Malcolm and just stripped down to his underwear and a t-shirt. Brushed his teeth, and offered his mouthwash to Malcolm. They’d never lived together, only spent the whole night together when they camped in the back of the station wagon—so why was this so practiced and easy? Making up the bed, turning down the covers? Climbing in and settling on separate pillows, facing toward the middle?
Existing together was so easy.
Scarily easy.
And scarily right.
Chapter
Eight
Malcolm was used to rolling over and getting a face full of his unfolded laundry and extra blankets, since he used half of his camper’s bed area for storage. Wasn’t like he had a partner to store there. So rolling over and getting a face full of hair and skin that smelled like sweat and shampoo startled him into waking.
He was practically on top of Iggy, who was curled up facing away, and Malcolm used the excuse of stretching to drape his right arm across Iggy’s waist. Iggy sighed, his body tightening then loosening in a kind of full-body stretch without moving too much. The trailer was still pretty dark, so Malcolm had no idea what time it was. He’d slept for a few hours, at least, because all the whiskey was out of his system, and he was thirsty.
“This okay?” Malcolm asked.
“Yes.” Iggy scooted backward until he was almost fully beneath Malcolm, his back to Malcolm’s chest. He kept his butt curled forward, though, and Malcolm didn’t press his luck by pulling him closer.
This felt too perfect, simply holding Iggy again. Holding him like he used to in the back of the wagon, buried under sleeping bags, usually naked after rubbing off or sucking each other off.Enjoying each other in private, no one judging them for the happiness they found in their relationship. Secret, though it was.
“You hungover at all?” Malcolm asked.
“Nope. Tired but not hungover. You?”
“Nah. Never thought I’d sleep good on a sofa bed. Must be the company.”
Iggy chuckled. One of his hands skimmed down to cover Malcolm’s and pressed it tighter against Iggy’s belly. Anticipation and curiosity swirled in Malcolm’s groin, and he was glad to have some space between himself and Iggy’s ass.
While they’d stolen time to have sex as often as possible as teens, they’d only had anal sex once, two months before everything went to hell. Iggy had initiated it, and he’d been eager to bottom. But afterward, they hadn’t done it again, even though Malcolm had volunteered to switch. He’d been curious what it felt like, but the opportunity never arose.
Malcolm was intensely curious what this older, experienced, more mature Iggy was like in bed—and not just relaxing in bed half-naked like they were now. They’d been minutes away from having sex on the nearest flat surface yesterday, because being around Iggy made him lose his damned mind, but now that he had Iggy in a bed with him…Malcolm was in no hurry to move things farther along.
Iggy was too good at distracting him with sex, so they ignored the big things glaring down at them from all angles.
“I’m enjoying the company a great deal,” Iggy said. “Hard to believe I’ve only been in town for forty-eight hours, and I’m already back in bed with you.”
Malcolm laughed out loud, his grip on Iggy tightening and his dick thickening from proximity to both his ex and friction against the mattress. “But just so we’re clear, in case we get carried away and things happen, becausegoddamnI love you inmy arms, we’re two single guys with healthy libidos, and there’s no one out there who’ll hunt me down if I kiss you again. Right?”
“Absolutely no one out there who’ll care if you kiss me again.” Iggy twisted around, making the old sofa bed’s frame creak ominously. Malcolm lost his hold on Iggy’s waist, and his hope for kissing in the very-near future dimmed when Iggy put space between them. “But I didn’t come back to Chance expecting anything from you, not after how things ended between us.”
Malcolm flinched and sat up, old hurt scratching at his heart like a feral cat. “I don’t know how to apologize for that anymore.”
“You don’t have to. That’s not what I meant.” Iggy lurched into a sitting position and gracefully twisted so he was on his knees, hands squeezing Malcolm’s shoulders. “I just meant that we still need to talk, and I don’t want us getting physical and clouding things up. We need to put the past to bed first.”
