Page 181 of Checking Out the Librarian

“Thank you for that information. That clarifies several things.”

“I miss you.”

“I’m so happy for you.”

He snorted at Jonathan’s response.

“Happy about your parents, I mean. Not happy about you missing me. Although, honestly, that does make me feel good. I wouldn’t want to be alone in the feeling-alone category.”

“Now it’s out of control gay support in this house, and she’s expecting me to understand musical theatre, and no, just, no.”

“Your mother?”

“No, my sister. I didn’t even know she liked musicals? Or theatre?”

Jonathan held up a blinking kitten face toward the camera. “Pawsley is so sorry for your challenges.”

“I can tell.” He couldn’t decide whether the eyes had started to change color, but the kitten blinked at him and its tiny pink nose twitched. “Has he been on my pillow?”

Jonathan ducked his chin, and Connor watched his lips curve. “Would I do that?”

“My pillow? Yes.” His breath slowed as he watched Jonathan and Pawsley. He wanted to put his finger on the soft fur behind the kitten’s ears, he wanted to hear the rumble-rumble that somehow emerged from that tiny, tiny body.

He cleared his throat. “I also told them I was seeing someone.”

Jonathan coughed into the phone, and Pawsley puffed up his fur. “What? What did you say?”

“What do you think? In case you can’t see, because I’m standing in the dark and this is a tiny screen, I am rolling my eyes. I said I have a boyfriend. I used that big, scary word and then I showed them photos. Of you.”

He knew Jonathan had never had a real, honest boyfriend or even a relationship role model. Despite saying they loved each other, sometimes he still acted oddly about calling themselves boyfriends, but he hadn’t realized talking Jonathan through self-performing a Heimlich maneuver might be required.

He sighed. “Jonathan, we’ve been over this.”

“Yes. I know. It’s just no one’s ever⁠—”

He reached off screen and Connor saw the side of his body, his arm, and the place where the black ribbed shirt pulled up from his waist. He’d guessed the shirt right. And his skin looked so smooth in the lamplight.

Then a mug filled much of the screen in front of Jonathan’s face. An instant after he registered its familiarity, he realized it was his own ugly tutu-wearing anteater mug.

Jonathan stared into the camera while he sipped.

“Wait, are you at my place?”

“Of course not.”

“But that’s my mug.”

Jonathan stuck out his lower lip just far enough that Connor wanted to nip it, but not so far that Connor worried about laughing. “It’s the one you make me use, so I took it.”

“You took my mug.”

That smile was definitely deliberate, because Connor’s cock knew that particular smile quite well, and fully approved. His cock unfortunately didn’t understand that there was a five-hour drive between it and the man giving him come-here signals. Connor’s poor cock was a simple thing, unable to do higher math like driving distances, and only able to calculate that it had been two and a half days since it had woken up snuggled against Jonathan’s cute round peach butt.

His boyfriend reached off screen again, and this time he came back with Connor’s fuzzy blue couch blanket.

“I don’t understand. You’re taking my stuff.”

“What don’t you understand? I miss you, so I totally abused your trust, took the key you left and snatched things to make myself feel better.” He paused and stared at the screen. Hard. For a long time. “Connor. This is where you say you miss me back.”