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“Where you needed to be touched.” Quick’s voice was smooth and calm when he said it.
Cayson knew his face was as red as the wine in his glass and hotter than the food on his plate. No matter how many ways he tried to word it or justify it; it was embarrassing to have a fuck buddy who wouldn’t technically fuck you. Who was too disgusted by you to even touch you. Cayson felt so much shame wash over him. He didn’t want to consider these feelings right now. He knew he wasn’t grotesque. Joe had serious emotional issues regarding his sexuality and Cayson didn’t have the correct initials behind his last name to try to understand them. Nonetheless. This was the third male acquaintance – couldn’t technically call any of them boyfriends – who wasn’t interested in Cayson intimately, and especially going out in public with him. “I’m not most men’s type, I guess. Maybe I should leave well enough alone. There are plenty of single doctors who never marry or have a family. It happens. They’re married to their craft. I’ll maintain on my work. That should keep me busy until I die.”
Cayson had barely heard the growled “Goddamnit” leave Quick’s mouth before his table was pushed to the side and a seething, angry date was advancing on him. Cayson was frozen to his seat. Not scared… but startled. Cayson felt like if he bolted and ran, Quick would walk him down and catch him like in those scary movies. He hadn’t understood what he’d said or what expression he wore that had Quick reacting like this, but he kept his mouth closed when he was swept up out of his chair and pulled tight into a solid chest. Hot, moist lips were on his and Cayson moaned, letting his arms drop down to his sides while Quick held him up by his biceps.
“It’s difficult to listen to you put yourself down, Cays.” Quick only pulled back slightly to annunciate his words, his wine-tinted lips still brushing lightly against his. “You keep saying you’re not most men’s type, but I’m standing right here, and you’re doing your damnedest to convince me that I’m not going to like what I find in you.”
“N-no I’m—”
“You are,” Quick snapped, refusing to let him get a word in. Cayson ducked his head. He was doing that. He’d had too many losers and now he couldn’t recognize a winner. “Look at me, Cayson.”
Quick’s grip loosened on his biceps as his firm hold became a soft massage. “I don’t know what else to tell you to convince you. I’m not sure what the perfect thing to say is.”
Cayson liked the flustered, not-so-sure-of-himself Roman, too. Confident Roman was sexy as fuck, but so was this one. “I’m not interested in perfection… there’s no such thing as perfection in existence. Anything that we do as humans, we can call it perfect, but it isn’t, really. I just want to….”
“Want to what? Ask me. Whatever it is… I’ll say yes,” Quick assured him.
Cayson was still being held tight against Quick’s chest, and it was hard for him to think clearly. His sentences were choppy and his thoughts weren’t complete. Damn, he could even smell the fragrance of Quick’s deodorant. He needed to retreat to solitude and get his bearings before he offered his ass up on a platter like that mostly eaten pork chop. “Rome.” Cayson’s voice was coarse and strained as that one line floated back to his head before making a beeline to his ass. You won’t have to worry about being made love to anymore, Cays. Cayson locked his knees to keep them from buckling. Just the thought of Roman fucking him. Oh, god, Roman.
“Say it, Cays.” Quick’s reply was like a hushed groan, since his voice was way too deep to fully accomplish a whisper.
Fuck. Quick’s vocal sounds were like a soothing balm to his tortured soul. So calming, yet demanding. And damn if he didn’t talk with so much conviction. Cayson wanted to believe him, wanted to eat up every word and let them satisfy him just like his dinner had. He cast a brief look at his four top table, which had been shoved almost all the way to the wall. Fuck. He’s strong. Quick’s sheer bulk was enough to assure him of that, but Cayson wondered if he would be as rough with his heart as he was with his furniture. “I think I’m gonna turn in.”
Quick looked taken aback and disappointed, but he slowly stopped caressing Cayson’s neck and let those wonderfully calloused hands fall to his sides. As soon as they were gone, Cayson busied himself pulling the table back over. Quick helped him and even pushed in all the chairs, but Cayson didn’t like how quiet he was now. His eyebrows were drawn down, causing a few wrinkles to form in between his eyes. He looked fed up. Damn, had he given up already? Why am I not worth the fuckin’ effort?
