AllFreeNovel
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Itmust be part two of some mega sex marathon, because it starts right in the middle of the action.Ican tell from the setup that they’re in the bedroom across the hall from mine.Roman’shands are tied to a metal hook in the wall, his helpless body stretched out, andScoutis balls deep in his–
Weboth move so fast thatIdon’t know which one of us slaps the phone face-down on the bed.Nobodypaused the video, so the moaning and wet sounds keep going, muffled by the blanket.
“JesusChrist, make it stop.”Dallaspounces on the phone, trying to pause the video without looking at it.Whenhe finally shuts it up, he throws the phone across the room into a pile of my dirty clothes, then runs his hands down his face. “Youknow whatIlearned tonight?”
“Whatthat random hardware in their wall is for?”
Hesnorts a giggle, then flops onto his back with his head on the pillow next to mine.Aftersharing a bed for so many months,I’vegotten used to having his flyaway hair in my eyes, my nose, my mouth, and tickling my neck. “Ilearned that there are some thingsIdo not need to see in my short life on this earth.Andmy two best friends doing…whatever that was…makes the top of the list.”
Ihold up my hand in the air above us with my pinkie extended. “Weswear that we’ll close that tab and never open it again.”
“Damnstraight.”Hehooks his slim, tan pinkie through my pale, crooked one. “Iswear to god, ifIhave a dream about that,I’mgoing to need therapy.”
Hestretches like a sleepy cat, but his yawn turns into a miserable groan as he rubs his face in the pillow. “Myback is killing me, andIhave to get up and go again in like five hours.”Tryingto get comfortable, he slides a hand in his underwear and pulls out the silicone packer we got him forChristmaslast year.Whenwe first lived together, he’d lock himself in the bathroom to sneak a sock into his jeans for a bulge.Nowhe just throws his cock on the bedside table without even thinking.
“Askyour boss to let you stay behind the registers tomorrow.”Iprop myself up on one arm and study his profile–thick, long eyelashes, a pointy nose with a bump in the bridge from whereRomanaccidentally broke it once, and the swollen scrape on his forehead.
Pursinghis lips, he blows out a bitter laugh. “Myboss fucking hates me.Hemakes me carry these fifty-pound boxes of canned beans around the store all day while dipshits slam their carts into my ass.”
“Whenyour boss is scarier thanmybosses, it’s time to rethink your life.”Ireach over and brush my finger down his nose. “Ithink it’s getting more crooked.”
“Fuckoff.”Heswats my hand away. “WhatamIsupposed to do?Ican’t afford to stand up to him.”
“Applyto that clothing store you’re always staring at.Theyhad a sign in the window.”
Hiseyes widen and he slides further down in the bed. “Shutup.Ican’t.”
“Whynot?”
“Lookat me.”Hewaves a hand at his ripped clothes and crazy hair. “Carryingboxes of beansis not a relevant resume for a luxury boutique.”
“Ohshit!”Iscramble into a sitting position and dig through the blankets for my phone. “Who’sa fucking genius?”
Thestinker just raises one eyebrow at me.
“We’llmake you an account online for posting all your outfits, and you can use it like a resume.”
Hisforehead furrows in confusion. “Thatsounds…complicated.”
“It’seasy if you don’t suck at social media.”Myfingers are already flying over my screen, setting up a new account.Ispend literally all my free time online following sneaker hauls and reviews.
Heopens his mouth, shuts it again, then scrunches up his tired face.He’strying so hard to process the wayIjust trampled all over his plans thatIthink his head is going to explode.
Reachingacross,Iwrap my hand around his face and push him down into the pillow. “Justrelax, baby.I’vegot this.”
“No,” he mumbles sulkily. “Youneed supervision.”Butthe boy must be exhausted.Withina couple of minutes, he takes the three little snorting breaths that mean he’s dropped off into sleep.Ilose all concept of time asIplay with the fluffy hairs at the nape of his neck with one hand and work on my project with the other.He’sbeen texting me ‘outfit of the day’ pictures for years, soIhave tons to work with.
Myphone tells me it’s four in the morning when he groans and lifts his tousled head. “Whyare you still up?” he croaks, squinting at me.
“Checkit out.”Ilean over and hold up the phone, scrolling through row after row of aesthetically-edited outfit pics. “Doyou like it?”
“Jesus.”Pushinghimself up on his elbows, he rubs his eyes. “Whydid you save all these?”
Ishrug one shoulder. “Ilike looking at them.Whatdo you think?”
Ashy, unconscious smile tugs at his mouth as he studies the screen. “Itmakes me look like a pro or something.Youdidn’t have to…”
“Justpromise me you’ll call the store tomorrow.”
