by Posy Roberts
“Five thousand? What? It’s a fucking sweater.”
“And they want fifty bucks for it. That’s robbery. Help me commit robbery by rescuing this unappreciated sweater. I’ll leave it at your place so nothing happens to it,” he said, eyes pleading as if he were trying to convince him. “And maybe I could sell it online or something. It would cover first and last month’s rent. I could buy clothes decent enough to impress on an interview. Maybe a suit. I could work as a hotel clerk or something. Oh, please, Louis. Please.”
“You don’t have to beg. It’s yours. Is there anything else . . . ?” He raised a brow to convey his meaning. If whoever took stuff in at this place didn’t know the value enough to realize they had a $1,500 sweater on the rack for fifty bucks, maybe there was more.
“I’ll look,” Bash whispered as he passed Louis the sweater, now neatly folded.
Bash . . . He mentioned being called Ash and Bas. So clearly Bash was a nickname. He just didn’t know for what. He’d ask. Soon. He thought Bash would tell him now. They’d made out a few times, so a name exchange wasn’t too much to ask. Or was it? It hadn’t been offered freely yet, so maybe it was.
Louis approached the cashier and set the sweater on the counter. “We’ll take this. He’s still looking around.”
The woman smirked and nodded. “Yeah, he always takes his time. He puts together the coolest outfits for other people.”
“What do you mean, for other people?”
“Job interviews and stuff. He helps people find what they need and just knows how to find the gems.”
Louis nodded and gave the sweater a few pats. “Do you know if this sweater came in with anything else? It fit him perfectly, and the style was . . .” Louis had no clue how to finish that, but she saved him.
“I have a few pieces in the back I didn’t put out. Wrong season, but I’ll get ’em.”
“Thanks.”
Louis made his way back to where Bash was paging through pants, holding a pair to his waist, putting them back, holding another pair. He leaned in close, smelling Bash’s skin as he said, “You might have a few more pieces to help you out. Off-season, but still . . .”
“Here we are,” the woman singsonged.
Bash gave Louis a meaningful look before he crossed to her. Louis stayed out of it. It was clear they knew each other. Louis wasn’t about to fuck up whatever energy they had. He’d talked her down on the sweater. Only twenty bucks, but twenty off a knit that possibly went for thousands . . . Yeah. Louis wasn’t about to fuck up that magic.
In the end, they left with several pieces. Tops, bottoms, dress shoes.
Bash let out a happy sigh as Louis headed for home. “I finally have interview clothes. They have to stay nice and clean, wrinkle free, so can I leave them at your place for now?”
“Sure.” Louis couldn’t help but smile. “Does that mean I’ll get to see you before and after interviews?”
Bash bit his bottom lip. “Would that be a problem?”
“No. We’ll have to coordinate schedules and all that. Or I could give you a key to my place.”
“Nah-uh. I’m not taking a key. Too much responsibility.”
“All right.” He mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key. “You hungry?”
“Lot of good your lip lock did there.”
Louis chuckled. “I’m hungry. What can I say?”
“I could eat.”
“I have a fridge and freezer full of food. Let’s go home and cook together.”
Bash gave him an eyebrow waggle. “Is that short for hopping into bed?”
“No.” His stomach growled, long, low, and loud.
“Geez. You really are hungry.”
“Very. And about the last thing I want is to drop you off wherever you live right now.”
“I don’t want to go back there either. Well, that’s not entirely true. I want to make sure Javon, Shirley, and Walter made it through the snow.”
“Oh shit. I didn’t even think about that. You have friends out there. Wanna do that now? I still have a shitload of socks in the back. Your friends may as well be the beneficiaries of those as well as anyone else.”
“You’d do that?”
“It sucks when most of my donations are faceless. That’s why I like cooking and serving meals. I get to see who’s out there, hear about their successes.”
Bash sighed. “And see the people who keep having shit luck.”
“That too.”
“You’re serious about going down there?”
“As a heart attack.”
“Then take a right up at the light.”
13
Gratitude
Sebastian was nervous as hell. Louis would see how he lived. Like actually lived. This would likely be his wake-up call. Louis would see just how homeless Bash was and either run away screaming or go into pity mode and try to be his rescuer.
Louis had gotten damn close a few times already, but somehow at the last minute, he always stepped off that precipice that would’ve messed everything up between them.
Sebastian didn’t want a knight in shining armor. He didn’t want Robin Hood either.
He just wanted someone to treat him with respect. Not because he was Gabriel Lewis or Kendra Lawton’s kid. He didn’t want someone to respect him because he’d struggled and made it or—cue the music that sounds like sparkles—because he could see the silver lining. This wasn’t a fucking “rich guy learns a lesson” or “homeless guy gets a break” made-for-TV movie.
This was his life. It was complicated and terrifying and not a thing he easily shared.
In fact, he’d not shown any guy he’d slept with how he lived unless they were living on the streets too.
They parked and walked toward the bridge where he was set up between Javon and Emily and Shirley, just down the way from the ornery old guy everyone loved named Walter. Walter was rarely around, always off collecting scrap metal he exchanged for cash.
Snow was piled high, but people had stomped it down, making a path he easily followed under the bridge. Someone had started a tiny fire in an old hubcap, and a few familiar faces circled it, trying to keep warm.
He shot them a wave and Louis did too. The double takes the men did made Sebastian wonder if they recognized Louis from a soup line or something. He’d ask later. Maybe get their impressions of the guy just in case he was still a horrible judge of character.
Javon’s tent was lit from the inside, but it was silent. No bickering like he’d come to expect in recent weeks.
“Honey, I’m home,” Sebastian singsonged.
“Is that my little Bastion of hope?” Javon asked, poking his head out of his tent. He crawled out then, pulling Sebastian into a tight hug. “I was startin’ to worry. I texted, but you never answered. Your hookups never go on this long.”
“I left my phone back at his place.”
“Nice shoes. New threads. Damn, he’s treatin’ you right.”
Louis cleared his throat.
“This is Louis. I met him at the food pantry. Javon.”
Javon lifted a curious brow and held out his hand. Louis shook it, and Javon sized him up for a second before Javon waved toward the tent and said, “Emily’s gone. Couldn’t deal with the trek to the bathroom in the snow. It was too much.”
“Sorry, man. She coming back?”
“Nah. It wasn’t working, as everyone ’round here knows.”
Sebastian still pulled him in for a hug. “How’d you manage with the snow?”
“Did okay. Bridge helps.” Javon gestured upward to the shelter they’d built their temporary city under.
“Sure does. Keeping warm?”
Javon nodded.
“Uh . . .” Sebastian didn’t know how to do this sock thing, but Louis didn’t seem worried.
“Here.” Louis reached inside the sock-stuffed tote he’d brought along and handed Javon a pack. “Bash told me how much he appreciated socks, so I thought I’d bring some for his friends.�
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Javon took them but gave Louis a skeptical look. “Thanks, man.”
Sebastian smiled up at Louis, which set Javon to a low chuckle. “Ah, I see how it is. This is the guy. This is the guy you was with last night, ain’t it?”
He nodded. “Yup.”
“And you brought him here?” Javon’s brows disappeared under his stocking cap. He knew what this meant. This was different. Something about Louis was different even if Sebastian couldn’t put his finger on it yet.
“I did.”
Louis was chatting with a few more people who had emerged from their tents, curious about who was talking. He handed out packages of socks and answered questions about how they recognized him. Sebastian appreciated the space to have this conversation with Javon on his own.
“He’s different from the rest,” Sebastian admitted.
“How?”
“Despite the fact that he’s handing out socks to everyone right now, this isn’t just a one-off thing for him. It’s who he is. He’s not trying to be a savior.”
Javon stared at Louis as he gave his last package of socks away. “You sure about that?”
“I’m pretty sure. I brought him here to show him my reality. Figured that would tell me even more about him.”
Javon blew warm air into his palms. “Well, get to it, then. I’ll be next door if you need me.”
“Thanks.” Sebastian pulled Javon into a quick hug before he turned to face Louis. “All done playing Santa Claus?”
Louis scowled a moment, then shook his head. “Not my intention, but yeah, I guess I am.”
Sebastian held out a hand, presenting the tarp he lived under. “Welcome to my very, very, very humble abode. Come on in.” Bash unclipped the heavy-duty spring clamps that held his “door” together and crawled inside. He cranked his windup lantern and turned it on. It gave off enough light so they could see each other.
Louis scanned the place. It was sparse since most of what he owned was in his backpack back at the house; he should’ve brought it, but he’d let his guard down today.
“You don’t have a tent like Javon and the others,” Louis said as they both got settled on the cold, hard ground.
“You don’t have to whisper.”
“The lighting . . . It makes me think of blanket forts during sleepovers. I always whispered in those.”
Sebastian licked his lips and nodded, resisting the urge to kiss Louis stupid. He had sleepovers in blanket forts? He wondered what he did in those. Kissed? Read comics? Told scary ghost stories?
It was cheerier than what Sebastian did in here.
“Give me the tour?” Louis asked with a half smile.
“Okay . . .” He showed him how he used the space, where he slept, his secret hiding spots, and explained what he carried in his backpack that was usually sitting around.
“And why don’t you have a tent? I thought you said you did.”
“Oh. I used to.” Bash drew his knees up and hugged them, biting his lips. “The city. They come by every so often to ‘clean things up.’ Lost my tent in a sweep.”
“That sucks. Just out of the blue?”
“No. We have warning. It’s posted, but I was late getting back. Shift went long ’cause my replacement ghosted.” He huffed out a frustrated breath. “If I’d been an hour sooner . . .”
“Damn. That’s . . . Shit, that’s awful. Cruel.”
“You’re tellin’ me.”
Louis shivered. “How do you stay warm?”
“My favorite blanket, which is in my backpack. And this.” He patted the rolled-up sleeping bag. “Sometimes I share body heat. But I don’t really know. I moved further south so I’d avoid the deep freeze of New York.”
“And here we are.”
Sebastian shrugged. “It’s not too bad yet. The snow will probably melt in a few days.”
Louis smiled, warm and sweet and knowing. “It will.”
The light was dimming. Should they stay? Should they leave? He cranked the lantern a few more times.
“It’s not much, but I’m grateful for everything I have in here,” Sebastian whispered, somehow taking on Louis’s blanket-fort mood.
“I’m not sure I can say the same thing about each thing at my place. In fact, I know I can’t.”
Sebastian reached for a smooth stone he’d tucked away in a hiding spot. It was cold as he pressed it to the center of Louis’s palm.
“What’s this?”
“Just a rock I liked. Helps me pass the time. Rub it. It feels good.”
Javon cleared his throat in an exaggerated way. “None of that, boys. I don’t wanna be hearing you two fucking.”
Louis turned beet red, and Bash snorted a laugh and gave him a wink. “I’ll remember to throw that back in your face the next time you got a girl over there going down on you and you’re praying for strength.”
“Nah. Don’t be doin’ that. You’ll put me off my game.”
“Like you’re puttin’ me off mine right now,” Bash tossed back. “Privacy, please?”
“Earmuffs.”
“Thank you.”
Bash smiled as he turned back to Louis, who was clearly entertained by the banter. “Grateful for everything you have here,” Louis whispered as he thumbed over the rock in his hand. “I see why.”
Louis was chilled to the bone. He had no idea how Bash managed living out in a makeshift structure like that in freezing temps. Sure, it was colder today than most, but it wasn’t like it had been a balmy sixty-eight degrees earlier in the week.
As they stepped into Louis’s house and set aside purchases, he glanced at his thermostat. It was set at seventy-two. He wanted to shove it closer to the Celsius mark just to warm up. But he had a better idea.
“Wanna warm up in a bath or a shower? I can’t even think of food until my teeth stop chattering and my muscles stop seizing up.”
Bash nodded as he took off his coat, Louis’s old coat. “A shower would be perfect, as long as I have some company this time.” He winked before hanging the coat up on one of the two hooks just beside the front door, making himself right at home.
Louis grinned. “You sure about that?”
“More than.” Bash drew close, pressing a kiss to his lips before he slipped the quilted fabric over Louis’s shoulders and hung it up. “Come on. Shower, then food. Actually, if you’re famished, I’ll make you my famous PB&J.”
Louis chuckled as he toed off his shoes. “I’d like that, but later. Tomorrow for lunch. I’ll call for takeout tonight.”
“Tomorrow? You’re making a huge assumption, mister.” Bash was bringing out the flirty grin again, the one where he looked fucking amazing, made even more enticing by the way he used his tongue to tease, the way he bit his lips. Something about the beard and how it hid some of the movements made it all the more . . . sinful. Hell, the way he blinked. Lashes lowered, head tilted just so.
Louis drew Bash in for a kiss, just lips but not doing anything to keep it tame. It was the sexiest kiss ever. All lips and tips of tongues. A few nips. And whiskers.
It took mere seconds for Louis to be hard. And panting. “I’d love for you to sleep here again tonight,” he managed.
Bash thumbed over Louis’s nipple before tugging his sweater off. So they were undressing each other . . . Downstairs . . . Okay. Louis joined in, but the way Bash played with his nipples, tugging, pinching, toying . . . Fuck, it was hard to concentrate on getting Bash’s clothes off.
With each new touch, Bash led Louis upstairs. They were headed to the shower, Louis realized about halfway up, and they’d be naked by the time they got there.
“We’re really doing this?” Louis whispered as he doffed his pants and bent to tug off his socks.
Bash was already nude, stepping into the shower and adjusting the various sprays to his liking.
Louis joined him just as Bash directed the handheld jet up his bum.
“Mmmm. A boy could get really clean in here.” This time Bash’s eyes closed as
he directed the spray.
“Like that, do you?” Louis asked as he grabbed the jet and reached around with his other hand to feel what he was doing. It was hit or miss. Fuck it. “Turn around.” He unfolded the bench that was attached to the wall and said, “Kneel on this if you want.”
Of course Bash wanted to. He pressed his hands into the stone shower wall, knelt on the metal bench, and stuck his ass out, back arched. He looked over his shoulder and winked at Louis.
Bash knew exactly what he was doing.
Louis fiddled with the handheld nozzle, easing the spray a little, adjusting the temp so it was warmer, and then allowed the water to cascade down Bash’s neck, back. Down his sides, dripping off him like icicles on a warm day in the sun.
Louis sprayed his butt cheeks, his thighs, feet. Then he moved back up, taking care to avoid Bash’s balls.
He changed the spray setting again, this time to a pulse. Louis moved in close, curling his body around Bash’s back. “This is my favorite setting when I . . . play in the shower. Tell me if you like it.”
Bash nodded, and the moment Louis stepped away, he arched his back.
Louis wouldn’t touch him, just allowed the water to do the work for him.
He sprayed Bash’s cheeks, loving how the jets made lines in Bash’s generous hair. He was hairy for how thin he was. Unexpected, which had Louis hard.
“Tell me if you don’t like it,” Louis whispered. Then he drew a quick line down Bash’s crack.
Bash moaned and arched even more. “I like. You didn’t tell me to let you know if I like, but I like. I like.” He was panting in anticipation.
“I’ll give you more, then,” Louis promised. He drew another line, slower this time, hovering where he guessed Bash’s sweet spot was, based on how his back muscles tensed and relaxed.
Bash readjusted, pressing his forehead to the stone wall, flipping the bench back up so it was out of the way, and arching again. But this time he spread his ass open wide, a palm on each cheek.
“Fuck,” Louis said under his breath. “That’s a thing of beauty.” His hair landed in little swirls, the thickest and most tempting framing Bash’s pucker that pulsed open and shut as the jet teased him.