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“Getting there. I just need to troubleshoot this one section.” The clock in the bottom corner of his laptop screen read just after nine o’clock.
Clicking his tongue in disapproval, Julian pressed a thumb into Alex’s neck. “You need to take a break. You’ve been at this for hours.”
His fingers worked the tension out of Alex’s body, drawing a contented sigh from him. “Maybe just a few more minutes,” he bargained weakly.
Julian leaned in, his breath tickling his ears. “Alexander,” he nearly growled.
Being called by his full name had never sounded so damn good. Or sexy.
He shook his head, trying to clear the fatigue. His glass-topped standing desk somehow complemented the rich mahogany and delicate brass accent of Julian’s. While Alex functioned in an organized chaos of scribbled notes and half-empty aluminum cans, Julian’s workspace held books stacked by size and annotated with a colored-tab taxonomy only he understood. Among the clutter sat touchstones of their shared life—a lush potted plant they had bought at the farmer’s market but Alex was still unsure about, concert tickets from their first official date tucked into the corner of a shared corkboard, and a framed photo from Alex’s graduation, both dressed in their regalia, leaning toward each other.
“How’s your research coming?” Alex nodded at the books stacked on his desk. “Any discoveries?”
“A few promising leads.” A spark of excitement animated Julian’s face. “I’ve been analyzing some overlooked connections between postmodern literature and the rise of niche subcultures. The idea of ‘metafiction’ and creating works that self-consciously examine the medium of fiction itself parallels the development of highly specialized groups that form their own self-referential culture.”
“Sounds amazing. Like all your work.” Alex smiled, propping his chin on his hand. He rarely understood Julian’s theories, but he loved listening to him talk about them. The passion and intelligence in his voice were captivating.
“Yes, well, it’s still in the early stages.” Julian waved a self-deprecating hand, though his cheeks were rosy with enthusiasm. “Still, it’s energizing to venture back into my scholarship. When I get a better idea of what I’m doing, I might need your help debugging my literary analysis.”
Amused, Alex raised an eyebrow.
“Pardon me?” Julian clutched his chest, but the dramatics couldn’t deflect from the twinkle in his smile. “If you can attempt literary references, I can certainly try techy ones.”
“Techy ones, eh?” Alex followed him into his living room. Well, it was their living room now.
This space had evolved since that infamous Book Club. The antique furnishings and relics that had reminded him of a time warp now exuded a comfortable charm. Julian still crammed the towering bookshelf with leather-bound volumes of great literature, but he’d also made room for Alex’s sci-fi paperbacks and tech manuals. Alex had happily left his futon behind, especially since it meant the sofa he and Julian had made love on remained. The naughty memories made on that sofa still brought a smile to Alex’s face, especially when Julian insisted on steam-cleaning it before Alex moved in.
“So… is this arrangement working for you?” Julian gestured toward their office. “I want to be sure you have the space you need.”
Touched by Julian’s thoughtfulness, Alex smiled. “It’s perfect. I enjoy being close to you, even when we’re absorbed in our own projects.”
Julian fidgeted with the dishtowel. “I haven’t forgotten what you did, what you gave us. For me. For us.”
“I didn’t give anything up.” Alex gave him a peck on the cheek. “My boss was happy to give me a remote contract, even if it’s just for a year. We’ll figure the rest out later.”
Julian nodded slowly. “Having you here like this… waking up beside you every morning…” He shook his head with a look of wonder. “Besides, there might not be a reason for either of us to stay here in a year.”
Alex squeezed his hand supportively. “Dean Simmons won’t drag out this investigation. Your reputation is still intact.”
“I appreciate the optimism,” Julian said with a shrug, “but I’m not sure I’d even return to Blue Ridge. Not after all that scrutiny.”
“Fine. Then we’ll move to California. I’ll happily support seeing more of you shirtless and in swim trunks.”
Julian laughed, the sound warm and full. “I need a job. Can’t live off my boyfriend.”
“You can be my pool boy.” Alex wrapped his arms around Julian’s waist. “What do you think the swim trunks are for?”
“Oooh, is the uniform optional?” Julian laughed again and kissed Alex deeply. “Why don’t we…retirefor the evening?” he murmured against his lips.
Alex raised an eyebrow. “What about dinner?”
“We’ll eat it later and pretend it’s leftovers. It’ll taste better that way.” Julian kissed him softly. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
“Yeah?” Alex threaded his fingers through Julian’s silky hair. “Want to do something about it, Professor?”
With a grunt, Julian pulled Alex closer. “Gladly.”
They stumbled together toward the bedroom, exchanging heated kisses as articles of clothing, along with an apron and a dishtowel, littered the hallway. Julian gently pushed Alex onto their bed, desire flashing in the vivid blue intensity of his stare.
