Socks for an Otter

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Socks for an Otter Page 4

by Posy Roberts

Louis had witnessed violence and drug deals go down while volunteering, but he wouldn’t press for more details. If Bash wanted to let him in, it would take more than a few surfacey questions asked on the Metro.

  Conversation shifted to lighter topics for the rest of the ride: fountains and sculptures in the city, odd encounters with sightseers, and their mutual love/hate relationship with the Metro. Every time Bash pulled out his dark humor, Louis laughed. From the looks he shot Louis’s way, it was as if he’d been telling these jokes most of his life and no one had ever found them funny. He looked that surprised.

  As they disembarked and walked toward Louis’s home, he felt he had to get something out there in the open. “This isn’t something I usually do.”

  “What’s that? Invite perfect strangers over for a crab bake or whatever you call it?”

  “Yeah, basically. I’m not a go-with-the-flow guy. Or at least not like this. At work, yes, but my personal life—”

  “I’m part of your personal life already?”

  Louis chuckled. “I guess. I don’t know. I haven’t dated seriously in ages.”

  “We’re already dating? I thought this was dinner and a place to warm up for an hour or so.”

  Louis palmed his face. “Fuck. I’m messing this all up!”

  Bash laughed. “No you’re not. Your awkwardness is adorable, though.” He skimmed a mittened hand over Louis’s gloved one before tucking it back into his pocket.

  “I’m usually way more cautious than I was with you back there. I just . . . Well, I just said everything that I usually keep inside.”

  “Like that you think I’m cute?”

  Louis nodded and heat crept down his neck, which was welcome in this wind. It felt good, this freedom. Thoughts becoming words.

  4

  Connections

  “Feel free to look around while I check on the crabs,” Louis said. “I’ll give you the tour in a sec.”

  Sebastian took off his coat and hung it on the hook beside Louis’s warmer one, grateful to be in the heated row house. Windows were expansive out the front, and the exposed brick visually warmed the place. A stairway that curved near the top and disappeared was a few steps inside the front door, and it beckoned Sebastian up. He didn’t go, though. Instead he remained on the rug by the door.

  “You can come into the living room rather than hovering in the entryway,” Louis said from behind the countertop in the kitchen at the back of the house. A little dining room sat between a breakfast bar and the living room in the front. It was all open plan, so one room spilled into the other along with the light. The place had been renovated from top to bottom, considering the neighborhood and the ages of the homes here.

  He’d watched Louis take his shoes off the second he was inside the door, so he knew that was the norm. But . . .

  “I’m not sure my socks are clean enough,” Sebastian whispered. “I don’t want to get your rugs dirty.” They were cream and light gray and would show every speck of dirt. He’d walked miles and miles in unsound shoes on wet streets and sidewalks for days.

  “Give me a second.” Louis ran up the stairs, banged around a bit, and returned with a fresh pair of socks. “Here. Wear these. And if you’d like, I could do a load of clothes while you’re here.”

  Sebastian nodded, unsure how to react to such open generosity. He slid his backpack off, careful to set it on the rag rug by the door just in case the bottom was filthy too. He stepped out of his shoes and was grateful for the clean gym socks. His were . . . awful, beyond ready for the trash in his old life. But his new life dictated these were good for another six months or more.

  With his best stealth moves, he tucked his filthy socks into his obliterated shoes. He tried to ignore how dirty his feet were as he slipped them into perfectly clean socks, but it was of no use.

  He’d see how this little . . . excursion went, and if he could let his guard down enough and stop being so damn prickly, maybe he could suck Louis off after supper or jerk him off and get him to come on his chest. Then he wouldn’t have to swallow his pride to ask to use the shower. And if Louis’s orgasm was intense enough, maybe he wouldn’t even notice if Sebastian took an extra-long shower.

  Unless Louis was expecting more than a simple blowie-for-a-meal exchange. In that case, Louis would probably insist he shower first.

  Sebastian was familiar with the formula.

  A suck or a handy for a meal. Worth it most of the time.

  A fuck for a night’s sleep in a hotel room. Not worth it. At least it hadn’t been more than a few times.

  But this was no hotel room. Louis had brought him to his home. Sebastian didn’t know the protocol for that.

  “Do you know how to prep crab?” Louis asked.

  “No. I never cooked much growing up, so . . .”

  “I grew up on the coast, fishing and catching crabs, so it’s second nature to me. I gave most of today’s catch to the food pantry, but I still have several here I need to deal with.”

  Oh, so it was one of those deals. Manual labor. Prep the food he’d later be allowed to eat.

  “Not sure I’ll be much help. I know how to eat them when they’re served, though.”

  Louis laughed. “Have you had blue crab before?”

  “I think . . . I don’t really know. All the crab I’ve eaten in the shell was that red-orange color.”

  “Which a blue crab would be once cooked.”

  “Oh . . . so not blue. Then . . .”

  “The meat is sweeter; that’s one way to tell.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know.”

  “Let’s not worry about that yet. Come on, let me show you around. This is the living room. It’s not very big, but it’s my favorite room to use as an office away from the office for those lovely no-pants workdays. It’s closest to my coffee maker.”

  Bash snorted. “You can do that working for a politician, the no-pants thing?” Sebastian gave Louis’s bicep a teasing slap. Defined bicep, though you’d never know it because of that bulky fisherman’s sweater. Which all of a sudden made sense . . . Same with the wood floaty thingies on the wall and the other stuff he now recognized as fishing gear. So it was true what Marvin said, Louis’s dad really was a fisherman.

  “My boss isn’t a politician anymore, but he influences legislation.”

  “Whatever that means.”

  “I work for an organization that works for good rather than evil. Like the Human Rights Campaign, but for people who struggle to make ends meet or who can’t at all.”

  “Oh. That makes sense.”

  Louis chuckled. “It’s easier to say I work in politics and leave it at that. But I get called into hearings at the Capitol to assist Oscar as he testifies or works his magic trying to get politicians to make laws that help all Americans. Despite that, I have a pretty flexible schedule,” Louis said with a shrug that ended in a grimace. “Which is just another way of saying I’m always working or can always be pulled away by work or never able to let work go.”

  Sebastian hummed. “Those sound like someone else’s words you’re repeating. Like someone yelled at you for never being home.”

  “Several someones, actually. Friends, family. It’s hard to keep friends. My wife forced me to socialize.”

  Sebastian didn’t say anything, giving Louis the space to explain or not explain what Marvin had already revealed, leaving it up to Louis how much he wanted to share.

  Louis walked to an end table and picked up a leather-bound book. When he opened it, his face changed. He smiled, but it was a sad smile. He passed the book to Sebastian.

  The woman in the photo, wrapped in Louis’s arms, was beautiful. Dark hair that flowed over her shoulders, kind eyes, and a smile that had Sebastian smiling back at her. She was . . . dynamic. That word immediately came to mind.

  “She’s beautiful.”

  “Mati. Matilda. We were married for six years, and we were having a baby. A boy.” The corner of his mouth quirked, his eyes turned glassy, and Sebastian s
uspected he was fighting back tears. “Lost them both. There were complications with the pregnancy we didn’t know about until it was too late.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Sebastian passed the book back. “I didn’t think things like that happened anymore.”

  “You and me both.” Louis set the book down again and then walked toward the stairs. “My laundry is up here, so if you have any other clothes, I’ll wash them for you.”

  Sebastian grabbed his backpack and followed, appreciating the brick, running his fingers across the surface, and wondering how many other people had done the same thing. Like Louis, right at the top of the stairway.

  “The machine is a bit temperamental, but I have the magic touch. And please, tell me if I’m being too forward by offering all this.”

  “Thanks.” He admired the stacked washer and dryer tucked away in a closet and kept on following.

  “Here’s the guest bedroom slash my real office. I don’t like working in here, though. Not enough sunlight. Not close enough to coffee or outside.”

  The bed in here was dressed in gray linen that was a close match to the walls. It was . . . boring compared to the rest of the place so far. In the closet hung clothes he likely didn’t wear, but aside from a desk and a rolling chair, there was no indication this room was used as an office. He didn’t even have a file cabinet.

  “Guest bath across the hall. Shower only, but the jets are amazing.” Louis dug in the top drawer and produced a bamboo toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste. “For you, if you want. Not that I’m saying you need to brush your teeth now or . . .” He palmed his face. “Fuck me. I’m so bad at this.”

  Sebastian laughed. “Thanks for being so generous, but I have a toothbrush in my bag.”

  “Well, take the new one as a spare.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Okay, back this way to my bedroom.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to—” But they kept on walking. “Oh my god.” He took in the space where the ceiling opened up, revealing a skylight. The room was huge.

  “Come outside for a minute. We won’t be long.”

  He followed Louis out to a patio that looked out over DC. At the edge he could see the dome of the Capitol that, for some reason, made him chuckle. “Did you buy this place ’cause of the view?” He let a wink loose.

  “Not at all. I don’t even own the place. I couldn’t afford this if I wanted to. I’m doing this long-term house-sitting gig for a diplomat friend, actually. He discounts my rent for me to live here and make sure nothing goes wrong.”

  “How do I get a gig like that?”

  “Work for the guy?” Louis laughed. “I wish I could tell you it didn’t require being connected.”

  Sebastian shivered and snuck back inside. “I was connected. Once. It’s why I’m down here, actually.”

  “‘Down here’?”

  “Yeah . . .” The sigh he blew through pursed lips made his hair move across his brow. He hoped Louis didn’t read his distress. “I grew up in a penthouse overlooking Central Park.”

  “So I’m guessing you have . . . or had connections?”

  “Very much had. As past tense as you can get. But at one time, I knew all the right people. I had zero ambition, though, and never thought about my future. All I cared about was my next fuck, my next shopping spree, my next drunken night at the club. Whatever would make me feel something. I was miserable, always chasing my next . . . ‘high,’ I guess.”

  “Did you use?”

  “Not beyond dabbling. Never into chemical highs. The crash was too intense for a guy like me.”

  “Like you? I don’t know what that means.”

  Sebastian struggled with how to explain this, but he gave it a stab. “I was already pretty down, so I didn’t need chemicals wearing off and dragging me further under.”

  “I get that.”

  “Plus, I had no purpose and couldn’t find my footing in anything. I never went to college. I didn’t need to work. And nothing held my interest. Well, except for sex, which was the straw that broke the camel’s back. My father walked in on me being pleasured by three men just as I shot my load all over a guy’s face.”

  “Oh my god!” Louis’s expression was pained.

  “Yeah. He called me useless, and everything changed after that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I had privilege upon privilege, to the point I was blind to what I had. Of course, I didn’t know that until after I was kicked out and disowned. Suddenly I was disconnected, shunned, and had nowhere to turn. I’ve been homeless ever since.”

  “How long?” Louis whispered, as if unsure he could ask.

  “It’ll be a year in March. I moved down this way in May and had to start all over again, but I was away from the looming worry that I’d run into my father one day.”

  “So you either had to learn a whole new system here in DC or go back to New York City? You probably already knew where to get help there.”

  Sebastian nodded. “I still don’t know if I made the right choice.”

  Louis tapped his foot, clearly out of words, and so was Sebastian. That was more than he’d told a lot of the people he considered friends.

  “Maybe my bathtub will make DC worth the move,” Louis said, and Sebastian saw the moment the sexual innuendo in his words landed. Louis rolled his eyes and went for his apology, but Sebastian stopped him by stepping through the bathroom doorway.

  “You were holding out on me, Louis. Screw the view of the Capitol. This is the view that sells the place.” A huge shower, an even larger tub, and beautiful fixtures, cabinetry, and subway tile. But Sebastian’s attention landed right on the bathtub and didn’t wander beyond.

  Louis chuckled. “I thought you might appreciate this. You’re more than welcome to have a soak. I have crabs to deal with, which will take some time, so . . . Have at it. No rush. And I’m serious, I’ll wash any clothes. I’m assuming you have stuff stashed in your backpack.”

  “I do, I will, and yes, please.”

  “I’ll grab a set of clean towels. Be right back.”

  As Sebastian fiddled with the hot and cold taps, getting the temp just right, he couldn’t help but laugh. “My own Pretty Woman moment. All I’m missing is rose petals and bubbles.” The tub filled slowly; the thing was huge, but the water was so warm. Running water over his hands felt amazing, so he couldn’t wait to get naked and climb in.

  Louis returned with a fluffy stack of towels and set them on the tub’s generous ledge.

  “I don’t need a separate towel for each limb, man.”

  Louis chuckled. “The one on the bottom is a bath sheet; it’s huge. Indulge.” He shrugged, and it made him look younger. And cute. “I roll a hand towel up and tuck it behind my neck when I want a long soak, so . . .”

  “Thanks. You’re generous.” Sebastian took the washcloth and appreciated how soft it was. The fabric took him back to Egyptian cotton towels from home that were so soft and so absorbent, but he shook his memories away.

  Louis backed up a few steps, took one step forward, then looked around the room like he was about to say something but didn’t know how to start.

  “Just spit it out.”

  “Do you want bubbles or a milk bath? I sorta have a thing for long soaks, so I have a lot of products.”

  Sebastian gave him a teasing smile. “Sure, show me whatcha got.”

  Louis opened a mirrored cabinet hanging on the wall above the tub, opposite the taps. Sebastian couldn’t help the breath he drew in when he saw what was hidden away. Bottle upon bottle lined several shelves, jars both squat and tall. Some were filled with liquids, others were bath salts, and from the way a few had separated, it was easy to tell they were bath oils. A few facial masks were labeled with what had to be Louis’s careful handwriting: clarifying mud, hydrating, charcoal deep clean, mmm honey, and OMFG! What happened to my face? Solution.

  He ran a finger across the array of products. “Holy shit, Louis! You weren’t kiddi
ng. It would take me a month to try all of these, and that’s if I tried one each day. Did you make some?”

  Louis nodded and his cheeks brightened. “It’s a passion of mine. Mati introduced me to all this. What’s your favorite tub treat?”

  “I’d prefer bubbles right now since I need to get clean.”

  Louis grabbed an avocado-green bottle. “Do you like tea tree? Er . . . or know what it is?”

  He managed to not growl, but the eye roll couldn’t be contained. “So you think I need antiseptic properties added to get me clean.”

  Louis threw up his hands and took a step back. “No. No, no, no. That’s not what I meant at all. Fuck.” He shook his head and mumbled something that sounded a hell of a lot like, “I’m fucking this up so badly.”

  “Try again, then,” Sebastian urged, shooting Louis a half smile.

  “It’s my favorite, is all, especially when I use this exfoliating scrub after I’ve soaked a bit.” He pulled a fat jar off the shelf and unscrewed the wide lid, taking a sniff and then offering the jar for Sebastian to sample. Tea tree and what smelled faintly like peppermint. “It leaves my skin soft, and since it’s tea tree too, I don’t end up smelling like I walked out of a perfumery.”

  “Tea tree bubbles it is.” Sebastian popped the stoppered bottle and poured a healthy dollop under the running faucet. Then he stripped and tested the water once more before facing Louis, who was as red as a beet. “Thanks for being so generous.”

  “Hummina . . . yeah . . . uh . . .” Words were a struggle, and looking Sebastian in the eye seemed impossible.

  Sebastian fought his laugh. People were always shocked. Skinny guy with a huge beard . . . everyone assumed he was overcompensating.

  He wasn’t.

  He climbed in the tub and sank down so the bubbles covered his cock and balls. Just to play with Louis, who seemed rooted to the bathroom floor, he asked, “Can you show me the best way to roll the hand towel for my neck?”

  “Wha— Oh, yeah. Sure. Sure.” He grabbed the towel and muttered, “For your neck. The towel for your neck.” Once in place, Louis took several steps back and declared, “Privacy. I should give you some.”

 

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