Except he hadn’t had his eyes checked in a long time. At the beginning of freshman year, it was hard to see the whiteboard in class, but he didn’t want to ask his parents for money. By the time he was in the position to worry about those kinds of things, he’d gotten used to muddling on with the vision he had. Plus he’d been vain. He hadn’t wanted glasses until now.
Did Baz want him to keep them on because they were funny-looking, or because he thought they looked good?
By midafternoon they headed back to the hotel. Walter went to the concierge to see about getting tickets, and Randy, Kelly, Baz, and Elijah went to The River to have a drink while they waited to see how Walter fared. Sam was there with Mitch, and he came up to see them when they entered.
He put his arm around Randy, kissing his cheek before turning to the rest of them. “Hey, guys. What’s up?”
Elijah couldn’t help studying Randy and Sam together as Baz and Kelly made small talk. Obviously the two men were good friends, but as Elijah noted the possessive way Randy’s hand cupped Sam’s ass, he became convinced they were something more. And yet they were so casual about it, right there in Randy’s husband’s casino, with Mitch literally watching his husband get groped.
Walter joined them, frustrated. “No tickets for tonight. But there are great seats available tomorrow. Should I get them or search for another show?”
Baz shook his head. “Let’s keep it easy tonight. I’m in no rush.”
“Do we want to do dinner instead?” Kelly suggested.
Baz put his arm around Elijah. “Maybe a late one. I could use some time in the dark right now.”
Elijah worried what this meant, but once they were in the elevator, alone, Baz didn’t look weary. He grinned lasciviously at Elijah.
“Let’s try out our hot tub.”
Elijah didn’t have any complaints with this idea. But… “How are your eyes? Do you want to give them a rest, get them out of those contacts?”
“I’ll give them a rest after,” Baz promised.
When they got to their suite, there was a note on the bar. Elijah opened it.
Made a few modifications to the room we thought you might like. Let us know if you need anything additional. Be sure to try the red switch in the main room.—Ethan
Elijah read this out loud, and Baz went to the double switch plate by the door, where indeed one of the toggles was red. He flipped it.
The room’s lighting switched from LED to incandescent red, and the motorized curtains closed tight enough to pitch the room into utter darkness.
Elijah was moved, and he could tell so was Baz. But he didn’t dwell on it, didn’t let Baz do so either. He simply crossed to his fiancé, took Baz’s glasses off, and set them on the counter. He kissed him sweetly on the mouth, then tugged his shirt to remove it.
It hit his own fake glasses, which he began to take off, but Baz stopped him.
“No.” Eyes naked and beautiful, Baz touched the plastic rims. “Leave them on.”
Smiling, Elijah did. Everything else, though, he got rid of.
BAZ UNDRESSED LAZILY as the water ran, too interested in watching Elijah to hurry. It hit him, sometimes, how he’d only ever have sex again with the man in front of him, and he was always surprised to find how this pleased him rather than made him long for other partners. He did, though, worry about how Elijah felt about lifetime monogamy. Especially as he caught a glance at his Frankenstein-scarred body in the mirror behind the hot tub. He wanted to hide it in the water, but said water was only three-inches deep so far.
Coming to stand beside him, Elijah regarded the barely filled basin with disgust. “Jesus, it’s going to take forever to fill. What are we going to do while we wait for the water, play canasta?”
This was Baz’s cue to suggest sex, but he’d triggered his self-doubts, so he bypassed it and grabbed the robes hanging on hooks beside the tiled tub area. “Let’s sit on the couch and drink the champagne in the fridge.”
Keeping the mini-fridge door as closed as possible, Elijah extricated the bottle, lest the light blast a glasses-free Baz. It would only have tickled at this distance, but Elijah was to Baz’s light-sensitivity as Walter was to his husband’s many allergies: they were both militant to the point of ridiculousness. Normally this protectiveness made Baz feel warm and safe, but with the accidental glimpse of his surgery-scarred body, he felt vulnerable. He wrapped the robe tight around his body as he tucked himself into a corner of the love seat.
Elijah, who had gone to the kitchenette nude, paused at the edge of the coffee table, holding the open bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other. He frowned at Baz’s robe, then softened as he figured out what was going on. “You don’t have to hide from me. I love your body.”
Baz huffed and reached for the champagne. “Right.”
Elijah sat on the table in front of Baz, but he didn’t drink, only ran his finger down the open vee on Baz’s chest, mapping the scars as he went. “I know most of them are from when you were younger, but I always see the one from the bullet and remember you did it for me. You saw my dad with a gun and didn’t get out of the way. You put yourself into the way.” He pushed the panel of the robe aside and traced the round, concave scar on Baz’s shoulder, his gaze inscrutable behind his glasses. “It’s the one thing I can’t argue my way out of, when I want to believe shit about myself. You didn’t know me then. But you did it anyway. I can’t hate myself the way the dark parts of my brain want me to, because you did that. I can’t argue my way out of it, can’t say I’ve probably disappointed you. Because you did it when you knew nothing about me, only that I was a skinny trick who used to be on the streets.”
Baz captured his wandering hand, holding it tight. “Don’t ever hate yourself.”
Elijah’s face clouded, and he looked away, toward the tub. He flattened his lips and rolled his eyes. “It’s not even half full.”
Ignoring the tub, Baz brought Elijah’s focus back to him with a firm tug on his hand. “You were never just a skinny trick who lived on the streets. I didn’t help you because I pitied you. Not in the alley way back when, not in the parking lot. I never thought you were weak. God, I didn’t know how to talk to you when I saw you here, because I felt shitty for not helping you more than I did. For not getting you away from your parents. Taking a bullet was the least I could do.”
Elijah tightened his grip on Baz’s hand and drew it to his lips. He was softer with the glasses, less hard and angular. More innocent.
Remembering his earlier fear, Baz brushed his thumb across Elijah’s chin, letting his insecurities bubble out. “Do you ever mind that we’re only going to have sex with each other from now on?”
“No.” Elijah’s posture stiffened, his gaze wary. “Do…you?”
Stifling a sigh of relief, Baz shook his head. “No. I never would have predicted I’d feel this way, but I don’t. I don’t know if I could follow through with my promises to fuck you in front of other people.”
Letting go of Baz’s hand, Elijah sipped at his champagne, looking thoughtful. “I think maybe Randy and Sam might be doing each other. I thought maybe they were old flames the first night, but they were all over each other today. Did you see it? Am I making it up?”
Baz replayed the scene in the bar in his mind, but he hadn’t noticed anything. Of course, he’d been focused on getting Elijah alone. “Do you think they’re having an affair, or are they polyamorous?”
“I don’t know, but since Mitch didn’t seem to care and everyone who gets paid by Ethan was watching, probably the poly option.” Elijah bit his lip. “I don’t think I could do that. It sounds sexy, but I think about other guys touching you and I want to cut their heads off.”
Grinning, Baz pulled Elijah toward him for a kiss. When they came up for air, he glanced at the tub. “I think there’s enough water to justify climbing in now.”
They went to the tub together but let go so Baz could get out of his robe. He carefully avoided the mirror this time, settling
on the ledge so he could watch Elijah enter the water. Elijah came to the edge of the tub, then stopped, laughed, and took off his glasses, which had steamed up.
He climbed into the water and nestled up to Baz.
They kissed again, slowly, in no hurry. Elijah broke their kiss to nuzzle Baz’s cheek, smiling. “I always wanted to write Howl’s Moving Castle fanfic where they did it in that bathtub of his.”
Baz grinned and nipped on Elijah’s lower lip. “Oh, good one. Howl could punish Sophie for ruining his potions. But remember, she’s still under the spell in that scene. He’s boning an old lady in his tub.”
“It doesn’t matter to Howl. He sees past the spell to the real Sophie.”
Smoothing a wet hand up Elijah’s chest, Baz smiled. “You’re right. He does.” He slid his hand to Elijah’s neck and drew him onto his lap so he could trace the ghost of Elijah’s fake glasses. “I wish you needed those glasses. I really dig you in them.”
“Actually.” Elijah sat on Baz’s thighs, though he positioned his knees on the bench in a way that kept most of the pressure from Baz’s gimp hip. “I’ve been thinking I should get my eyes checked. For real. I’ve suspected I need glasses for years, but…well, life has been a little crazy.”
Why did it thrill Baz so much to hear Elijah might need glasses? “Let’s go get some tomorrow.”
Elijah swatted at him. “I’m not getting glasses in Vegas.”
“Why not? I bet Randy knows where to go. I mean, the whole place isn’t casinos and tourists. He’s a native. He knows stuff.”
“I’m not going tomorrow.” Elijah punched Baz lightly in his shoulder. The one that hadn’t taken a bullet. “You’re so much work, you know?”
Baz smiled and pulled him close enough to kiss. “Let me show you how much work.”
All his reservations about his body, about Elijah’s willingness to settle for him and only him faded away as their mouths met, tangled lazily and then with more insistence. Elijah was relaxed and easy, finally. Baz felt, for the first time since they’d arrived, he had his hands on the escape he’d sought by bringing them to Vegas. If only he could figure out a way to keep it. Maybe he’d make it a rule. Every time his mother made Elijah insane with her plans, Baz would kidnap him and take them to Herod’s.
If Vegas wasn’t such a long way away from St. Timothy, he could almost utilize that strategy.
Elijah’s hands traveled south, capturing Baz’s cock, and all thoughts outside of sex evaporated from Baz’s mind.
The water was deep enough now, and Baz turned off the taps before teasing a finger down Elijah’s crack. “Who’s driving the castle, Sophie?”
“You.” Elijah flexed for Baz’s fingers, parting his legs wider to welcome him in. “I’ll do you later. I promise. But I…need you right now. In charge. In me.”
Baz wasn’t concerned about the ratio of who was fucking who. He was just glad they were fucking each other. Glad they were here, now, in this warm water in a custom-darkened suite, making love in the afternoon with champagne simmering in their veins. A little weed would put the whole thing over the top, he couldn’t help thinking—but not for long, because his finger had slid inside Elijah, and his head was filled now with the thrill of making those sounds come out of his lover. Ecstasy. Joy. Need. He leaned back and watched Elijah’s face, his expression as naked and open as his body.
He felt like a god. Powerful…and when Elijah looked at him this way, so trusting, so loving—well, Baz felt perfect.
I want this feeling forever. I want it with Elijah, Elijah only—forever.
He’d intended to make their play wicked, to tease Elijah and make him beg, but he found he could only make love to him. To kiss him tenderly, working him open so he could enter him on a sigh before driving them both into bliss. When they’d both come, Elijah collapsed against Baz’s chest, closing his eyes and shivering in his release.
“Only you can do that to me,” Elijah whispered, eyes still shut. “You’re the only place it’s ever felt safe to truly let go.”
Baz’s body was sated, but his heart soared and burst to hear this. He could say nothing in reply, as overcome as he was, could only hold Elijah closer and press a tender kiss at his temple, hoping the gesture conveyed his feelings enough.
Chapter Seven
ELIJAH HAPPILY POST-COITAL cuddled with Baz for an hour, but he grew restless, needing to move. He wanted Baz to keep resting because he’d taken his contacts out to let his eyes have a break, and Elijah decided the best way to make it happen was to remove himself from the suite. He left Baz a text and a note on the hotel stationery he’d propped in a tent by his lamp, saying he was heading down to the bar.
Walter and Kelly had left, as had Randy, but Mitch and Sam were still there, sitting in what Elijah had begun to think of as “Randy’s booth.” They welcomed him over when they saw him.
“Where’s your other half?” Mitch asked in his Texas drawl.
“Sleeping. I didn’t want to wake him, but I needed to get out of the dark for a bit.” Elijah had barely slid into his seat before the same waitress from the day before placed a Dirty Whiskey in front of him. He thanked her with a nod and took a sip. “What are you guys up to?”
“We’re waiting for my brother. He’s had a long day of rehearsal, and Steve’s deep into a project, so we thought we’d take Chenco out to pamper him at his favorite vegan restaurant.” Sam glanced at Mitch, who nodded. “You’re welcome to come along, with or without Baz.”
Elijah hesitated. “It sounds good, but I don’t know how long he’ll sleep, and I don’t want to be gone if he’s up and wants to do something.” He remembered the day before, their argument, and couldn’t help a wry smile. “Though if he were awake, he’d tell me to go.”
Sam leaned into Mitch. “I love how devoted the two of you are to each other. When are you getting married again?” When the question made Elijah shutter, Sam sat up, concerned. “I’m sorry, was that an uncomfortable question?”
How the hell should he answer? “We don’t have a date set, and whenever it is, I’m not going to look forward to it. Baz’s mother means well, but she’s a Momzilla on the best of days, and since she heard we were getting married, she’s been off the charts. There is no incarnation of our ceremony that doesn’t result in her taking over and turning it into some major social event for rich white people from Chicago. I can’t blame her, because this is her only son getting married. But it overwhelms me. I wish I could skip the ceremony and jump simply to being married to Baz.”
Mitch raised his eyebrows. “You can do that today, in Vegas. It’s called eloping.”
Elijah laughed bitterly. “Yeah, she’d be thrilled to find out we’d done an end run on her. But…even if I could know us running off to city hall wouldn’t mean she was gunning for my head on a platter, I kind of want some pomp and circumstance at our wedding.” He blushed, feeling ridiculous and exposed admitting it, but it wasn’t as if these people knew him or ever would. “I never thought I’d get married. I never thought anybody would feel that way about me. I still don’t always understand how I ended up with someone like Baz. You don’t get more opposite than the two of us, for family background.” His blush deepened, and he regretted not stopping his mouth on his first inclination. Damn Dirty Whiskeys.
Sam, unsurprisingly, turned soft and empathetic, a bottle-blond Kelly. “I never thought I’d leave Iowa, until I met Mitch. At best I hoped to get away to Des Moines. We aren’t so opposite as you and Baz, but we have other ways we’re different, I suppose.”
Mitch gave him an incredulous look. “Yeah, starting with our twelve-year age difference.”
Sam hushed him. “The point is, different can be good. You bring things out in each other, I think. Challenge each other. I didn’t want to move out to Las Vegas, but I wanted to be nearer to Randy and Ethan, and Mitch wanted to develop a relationship with his half-brother. Mitch likes to run cross-country jobs, but he’s driving local runs now almost all the time because we
’re getting tired of not having a home base. Or rather, we want to be at the home base more.” He bit his lip, glanced at Mitch shyly, and added, “And because maybe someday soon we’ll make our own family.”
Yeah, this guy really was a Kelly. Elijah pulled the napkin from beneath his drink and shredded the edge absently. “I don’t know if I want a family beyond Baz.”
“It’s okay if you don’t,” Mitch said. “And it’s okay if you don’t now and do later.”
Chenco appeared, well-scrubbed and exhausted. Sam scooted out of the booth to break the news about the restaurant, which Chenco seemed pleased by, and once again invited Elijah to come along. Before Elijah could decline, however, Mitch leaned over to tap him on the arm and give him a heavy look.
“You come on out with us. We’ll tell Randy to take a break from party planning and bring Baz on over if he wakes up before we get back. Or Randy can keep him company, whichever Baz prefers.”
Mitch said this in such a rumbly, bossy way Elijah didn’t feel no was an option. And so he ended up piling into a sedan with the three of them, driving through the city into a residential area north of the city.
The restaurant was nice—fancy, but not formal, and the food wasn’t bad. Elijah ordered a fried tofu buddha bowl, which smelled delicious as it was placed before him. It tasted good too.
“My friends and I are eating more plant-based,” he said around bites. “We haven’t been doing it long at the White House, but we’re trying. We need to make stuff like this, though. It’s so good.”
Chenco raised an eyebrow. “The White House?”
Elijah always forgot how weird it sounded. “It’s this big house we all rent off Campustown. It’s white, and it’s a house, so…White House. Someone made the joke a million years ago, and I guess it stuck.”
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