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Raphael raised his eyes and stared at her. “Why did you let Rose set us up?”
Ann blinked at him. “What do you mean?”
“Just that,” Raphael told her. He eyed his water, but he wasn’t hungry or thirsty at the moment. He wanted to call Rose right then and ask her just how deeply she vetted this person with her convenient, nameless disabled friend. “Do you let Rose set you up a lot?”
“Oh.” Ann laughed. “No, never. She was talking about you though, and I thought it might be nice.”
“Dating me?” Raphael pressed.
Ann seemed to catch on, and her eyes narrowed a little. “I’m not a bad person.”
“I never said you were,” Raphael told her.
“I do charity. A lot of charity,” she went on.
Raphael let out the smallest sigh. “Is this charity? Is that your argument?”
Her jaw clicked as she shut her mouth, and he knew then the date was over. Moments ticked by, like a bomb waiting to go off, then she moved her napkin from her lap to the table. “I’ll be right back. I just need the restroom.”
He didn’t bother trying to stop her as she walked toward the bathroom, then veered to the right at the last second. He didn’t say a word as the bistro front door opened and shut. He didn’t need to. If she hadn’t volunteered to leave first, he would have gone himself.
“Sir,” came a voice to his left. The server was frowning, and he had a feeling she’d seen his date abandon him.
“I apologize for wasting your time. My date had to go.”
The woman’s eyes softened. “Can I get you something to take home? We have this really amazing cake, and it usually sells out by the middle of dinner rush, but I know where Chef keeps his stash.”
Raphael couldn’t help his smile. “That would be wonderful.” He couldn’t eat it, but he knew someone who would. As she walked off, Raphael pulled out his phone and tapped open his last text thread with Diego.
Raphael: Are you on shift?
Diego: Free as the birds and bees I keep hitting when I drive the truck. What’s up?
Raphael: SOS
Diego: I’ll leave the front door open.
Raphael took a couple of twenties from his wallet and tucked them under the saltshaker, then accepted the bag holding the cake when the server returned. He brushed off her further sympathy, and he carefully made his way back out, aware of every single eye on him, and every sigh, and every whisper of pity.
It wouldn’t bother him for long. Not when Diego would soon be holding him by the hips, refusing to be careful, thrusting against his prostate until he was crying and covering the sheets beneath him with come. His arms would hurt, and his legs would spasm for long minutes after, and he wouldn’t care because he didn’t want delicate and there were people in his life who understood that.
He was grateful it was summer as he climbed into his car. He drove back to Savannah with the AC blasting, and he bypassed the entrance to his street, driving two more down and pulling up next to Diego’s truck. The air around his house always smelled like hot metal and wood smoke, and he thought he could still hear the crackling fire of his glass blowing kiln.
Raphael liked Diego. He wasn’t a man Raphael would fall in love with, but there was something about the way Diego was rough, and always a little soot-stained, and calloused, and missing the softness of tact. He’d never hesitated to ask Raphael about his body—about his wants, his limitations, and where he could push boundaries.
He never hesitated to make it hurt just a little, and that pain coupled with pleasure kept Raphael grounded in moments like this when the rest of the world seemed like they wanted to wrap him up in bubble wrap and then kick him when he fell, making themselves feel better about it when they told themselves it wouldn’t hurt.
He’d spent too many of his years building up a tolerance for that kind of pain, but some nights were harder than others. He knew why, deep down. He knew why there was a soft, vulnerable spot inside that had been stripped of its defenses tonight.
The evidence was in a long string of reaction emojis in response to his poorly taken selfies in his closet mirror. It was Dmitri texting him every word he knew to make Raphael feel sexy and wanted and worthy when he helped pick his outfit—and it had meant nothing, in the end. His confidence landed him a couple of ableist slurs at the beginning and end of a bad date and another orgasm in Diego’s hands.
The last part wasn’t the worst, but for the first time, it wasn’t what he wanted. For the first time in a very long time, he craved more. He craved quiet nights and soft laughter and the chance to hold and be held without any expectations. He wanted the promise of adventure without being left behind, and the promise of being himself without being abandoned for it.
And Dmitri could offer those things, but Raphael knew they came with a price too heavy to pay.
With a breath, he knocked on Diego’s door, then pushed his way in. He didn’t bother checking around, instead heading straight for the bedroom. He untucked his shirt before his gaze landed on the other man. Diego was on the bed, legs spread into a wide V, his hard cock erect and weeping as his big hand stroked from root to tip.
Raphael didn’t feel the same rush of hunger this time. His fingers were steady as he worked his buttons, and he stripped off his jeans, his orthotics thumping on the ground as he bared himself completely. He let Diego’s big, steady hands draw him close, into a fierce kiss before he was rolled onto his side. Diego pushed the wedge pillow between Raphael’s legs, and the pressure in his hips eased so fast, he couldn’t stop his sigh of relief.
