Page 43 of Love Language

And throughout the day, Marco would rest a hand on his shoulder, casually touch his arm, lean against him on the couch.

It felt like… family.

Greg also realized that he’d never actually seen Marco around other Deaf people, people who he could communicate with freely.

When they went out for dinner, Marco voiced and speech-read with confidence, but there was always something a bit pinched and reserved about him. Not that anyone would expect him to have in-depth conversations with waitstaff or other diners maneuvering past chairs.

But now that he could sign freely with everyone in the room, Greg could see the charismatic extrovert come out.

It made him wish that he’d made more of an effort to meet Marco’s friends, to get involved with him in the Deaf community back home.

Man, was he racking up asshole points this trip. But he could at least do something about it when they returned.

They stayed up way too late watching movies with Greg’s teenaged nephews, who were growing up to be quite interesting people.

Greg privately suspected that Jason was gay, but he wasn’t going to mention anything unless Jason brought it up. He just waited until Jason was looking at them, caught his eye, and gave Marco a soft kiss on the cheek.

Jason blushed and looked away, but Marco gave Greg an adoring smile and turned back to the movie.

Yeah, way too many feelings.

That night, in the hotel room where Greg had been anticipating all sorts of kinky shenanigans, they just… slept.

Not that they hadn’t slept together before. In fact, Greg had started keeping a change of clothing and a toiletries bag in his car so that he could leave for work directly from Marco’s place.

But sleeping together without doing anything else first was new.

Greg thought he liked it.

◆◆◆

Greg looked around, trying to figure out where he was. He was in a large room with plenty of people. No, it was a bar. Except, it was obviously the club. Everyone was in fetish gear, so it was a wonder he hadn’t realized it sooner.

He looked down at his own body. Tiny red shorts, trim red leather boots, and nothing else except the comforting weight of a collar around his neck. He couldn’t see it, but he knew it by weight and feel. It was red, Sir’s signature color.

Mindful of the eyes upon him, he walked carefully across the room. Finding the right chair, he sank to his knees on a familiar black cushion to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

He usually didn’t have to wait this long.

And then he remembered. Sir was out of town.

Shit. He wasn’t supposed to be here at all. He never went to the club without his Sir. He felt panic closing in.

He’d thought they were supposed to meet here, but actually Sir wouldn’t be coming because he was in Tokyo. Or London. Shanghai? Well, it didn’t matter because he needed to be home immediately.

He didn’t have his phone, because of course he had to leave it at the desk when he came to the club.

He might have missed Sir’s call.

Anxiety closed at his throat. He had to make it across the room, check out, get his phone… But of course, he wasn’t looking where he was going and he crashed right into someone.

Now there was some cold, sticky liquid all over both of them, and he had to apologize, and help the other sub back onto her feet.

One of the bartenders hurried over with a towel and offered it to him, and he knew he should take it and clean up, but he just wanted to get to his phone. He took a cursory swipe over his body and handed it back.