He stops, looks at me, with that gentle grin that lets his tusks really show. “You can count on it,” he says, and his shoulder brushes mine as he steps closer than necessary.
I swallow, smile back, and murmur, “Good… don’t stay up too late.”
“I’ll try not to,” he says, voice low, and it feels like he’s really talking to me—not just the guy who’s a walking tech disaster, but me.
My heart still pounds, skipping and stuttering in ways I can’t name, but I don’t care. Not tonight.
And maybe… just maybe, staying late wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
6
COFFEE, PIZZA, AND OTHER DISASTERS
GREG
The next morning, I wake with a grin that refuses to quit. My chest still vibrates from last night—the pizza, the quiet, the shoulder brush. The memory of Sean’s arm nudging mine, deliberate or not, sends a little electric pulse down my spine. I practically floated to the subway, each step light as air, the city blurring past like I was seeing it through a lens smeared with happiness.
By the time I’d burst into my apartment, I was practically trembling with need from being so close to him. I stripped down, hopped in the shower, and let my hands do what my mind had been begging for since the moment I left the office. Stroking myself as I thought only about Sean—the way he laughs, the way he leans in whenhe talks, the sprinkling of freckles under his eyes, the way he… God, the shoulder brush. I lost myself in the fantasy until it was almost too much, and once again, I was covered in Sean-fueled-cum. And then, mercifully, the water hit my skin and cooled me down enough to function like a reasonable being again.
I toweled off, threw on a clean shirt and joggers, and sipped a mug of overly bitter coffee as I settled in at my home desk. The apartment was quiet, the city stirring outside my window, and for a moment, I let myself linger in the memory of the night—of Sean—before heading to bed to dream of my mate.
By the time I’m back in the server room, logging into the Labyrinth help system the next morning, my apartment feels a million miles away. Work doesn’t care about my fantasies. The thrum of servers, the blinking lights, the inevitable questions from colleagues—all of it demands attention.
So far, so good. No system crashes. No tickets screaming for my attention. Which, of course, is the exact reason I’m suddenly desperate to see Sean. How am I supposed to interact with him if nothing’s broken?
I’m typing out a patch fix when a tap at my door makes my heart skip.
“Come in,” I call, trying to keep my voice calm.
And there he is. Sean, standing in my doorway like some kind of perfect, caffeinated angel, holding two coffees. My heart threatens to explode through my button-down.
“I wasn’t sure how you like it,” he says, a little nervous, “so I just… guessed. You can toss it if it’s terrible.”
I set the keyboard aside and gesture for him to come in. “You didn’t have to do that, but I won’t complain.” I take a sip and smile. It’s got too much cream and just a touch of sweetness. Just how I like it, although I’d drink a mug of mud from him. “Please sit.”
He lowers himself into the chair opposite my desk, holding his cup like it’s a fragile treasure. I take a moment to really look at him—shirt and khakis, hair falling just right, that familiar curve of his stomach brushing over his belt perfectly. The fluorescent light hits his blue eyes, and for a second, everything else disappears.
My head feels light. Just seeing him here, this close, makes my pulse spike in ways I don’t bother analyzing. I have to fight the urge to lean forward, to comment on the little details, the way he’s… exactly him. Every small gesture feels loaded, and I’m acutely aware of how much I’ve been longing to be close to him again.
I catch sight of the faint freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks, and suddenly, it feels like the stars themselves are aligned in his face. It’s another sign. My mind jumps back to last night—the way his laughter had sounded just for me, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
“You know,” I start, trying to sound casual even though my heart thunders under my shirt, “it was really nice last night… the pizza, the quiet. Just the two of us. Felt… regular, in a way.”
He smiles, warm and teasing at once. “Yeah. It was nice.”
Sean shifts slightly, leaning forward on the chair, and my stomach twists into something like knots of static electricity. “Hey… maybe we could do it again sometime?” His voice is quiet, but there’s confidence there, too. “You know. Without the looming doom of the system crashing or me panicking about losing the job I desperately need.”
I think I float right out of my chair. “Are… are you asking me out?”
“Maybe,” he says, faintly exasperated by how stunned I must look. “I mean… if you want to. Or in. I figured—well, I’d regret it if I didn’t ask.”
I grin so wide, I’m sure every tooth and both tusks are on full display. “I would never say no to you, Sean. Never.”
He laughs, light and relieved, and it feels like the sun just rose in my office.
I lean back, trying to keep it casual but failing spectacularly. “But, full disclosure, that shoulder brush? Dangerous. Made my entire body light up like a faulty power grid.”
He laughs—a low, throaty sound—and leans back, the confidence in his posture matching his spirited tone. “Guess I’ll have to do it again sometime, then.”
