by Willa Okati
"Exhibitionist." Guy likes that about Cameron, among his many, many other fine qualities. "Maybe in a minute."
"Okay." Cameron's mood shifts back to concerned. "What are you --"
"Will you marry me?"
Silence.
When the pause goes on for a few beats, Guy looks up, frowning. "Cameron? Did you hear me? Answer already. This floor's cold and my knee is killing me."
Cameron stares at him, jaw hanging open. "Say that again?"
"What, about the floor?"
"No. Before that. I don't think I heard you right."
Guy regains his composure. He took Cameron by surprise. Understandable. He presses his lips to the back of Cameron's hand and asks again, with the greatest conviction, "Will you marry me?"
"Marry you," Cameron repeats in a monotone.
Guy perks up. "Was that a yes?"
Cameron's mouth works silently for a moment. When he speaks, it's not what Guy expected him to say, which would ideally have been "yes".
What he says instead -- demands, wide-eyed -- is, "Hell, no. What are you, crazy?"
Chapter Two
"Cameron? Hey." Guy snaps his fingers in front of Cameron's eyes. They've glazed over, the thin gloss not enough to hide Cameron's confusion and -- that can't be fear, can it? "Cameron, you're scaring me. What's wrong?"
Cameron blinks. "Guy?"
"Yeah, it's Guy. Who else would it be?" Guy takes a step away and hooks his thumbs in his belt, studying Cameron, concerned. "What just happened there?"
"Um. Nothing." Cameron's grin shines, but at half its usual wattage. "Maybe I didn't hear you right. Can you run the question by me one more time?"
Guy shakes his head fondly. "I asked you to marry me, idiot. California, Massachusetts. Hawaii. It's not a brain-buster."
Cameron looks askance at him. "You want me to just say yes?"
"That'd be fantastic." Guy socks him on the arm, a love tap. "You'd make a beautiful bride."
"Screw you." Cameron's humor is genuine, finally -- and gone in a flash. He rubs over the smoothness of his chin, never in his life to see a beard, and turns his head. "I'll think about it. Catch you at home, okay?"
"Beg pardon?" Guy has to turn, calling after Cameron as Cameron makes tracks, "You okay?"
Cameron waves at Guy without looking back and poof, he's gone, leaving Guy wondering exactly what went wrong, and how to repair the damage.
***
Eight hours later, Guy sinks his key into the lock of Apartment 14-B with a deep sigh of relief. God, it's good to be home. Always is. Home equals Cameron equals what a home should be, warm and inviting, where he's welcomed in.
Their door opens with a squeak Guy's long since committed to memory, a screech, a protesting pop, and a mouse-like squeak. Cameron tends to throw the door open wide every time he comes home, too exuberant to slow down, and the portal's operatic performance now concludes with the dull thud of the inside latch sinking into its customary banged-in divot on the facing wall.
Guy stands still in the doorway for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing in. So many smells, each of them with their own unique meaning. The incense Cameron burns whenever he remembers to light a stick, a holdover from the days when he loved a good hotbox, heavy and musky and tinted with jasmine. The metallic tang of their air-conditioner working overtime, wafting cool air past his nose. The air carries the heavy fragrance of something edible and spicy coming from the kitchen.
As tasty as whatever's cooking smells, Cameron's scent dominates Guy's attention. Cameron always carries with him the aromas of sun and sand and the salty ocean. Every time Guy tastes the man, running the tip of his tongue down the long, elegant line of Cameron's back, the flavor reminds him of freedom and long, sunny days with nothing to do but enjoy one another.
They already live by the ocean, but if Cameron's made up his mind, and if he gives Guy the answer Guy's holding out hope for, maybe Hawaii would make a great place for them to honeymoon. Hawaii's a continent-plus away from their home in coastal North Carolina. Guy would love to see Cameron's fascination with the lush greenery and exotic foods -- just about as much as he salivates over the thought of seeing Cameron's lean, sun-browned body swimming in translucent blue waters instead of the Atlantic murk.
"Honey, I'm home," he calls, hanging his keys on a small, brass hook by the door, which he kicks shut behind him. Cameron's got his divot; Guy's got his black scuff marks.
"In the kitchen!" Cameron shouts back over a sizzle and a hiss, followed seconds later by the clanking of a pot lid and a dizzyingly powerful -- mouthwatering -- rush of Indian spices, curry and coriander and hot pepper.
Guy follows his nose through the cluttered entryway and peeks into the kitchen. He grins, delighted at what he sees. Cameron's in "serious cook" mode, an apron tied in a sloppy knot around his neck, the long hem dangling loose and hitting him halfway down his thighs. His chest is bare, muscles working smoothly under expanses of sleek, tanned skin regretfully interrupted by a pair of baggy board shorts with an eye-popping blue and yellow geometric design.
The view resumes around Cameron's knees and progresses to his feet, also bare, tapping out the melody for whatever song's going on the kitchen radio.
Maybe he'll give Cameron an MP3 player as a wedding gift. As much as his baby loves music, it'd make Cameron’s life. He could even pre-load it with Cameron's favorites and some they call their own.
"What're you making?" Guy cozies up behind Cameron, tucking his chin over Cameron's shoulder. He peers down at the wok and sees coin-sized slices of carrot, broccoli, those bizarre baby ears of corn and a cup or two of chopped chicken swimming in a sizzling pool of garlic and tamari-scented dark brown sauce. "Curry? Or is it stir fry? Either way, I'm starving, so gimme. God, I love you."
"Six of one, half a dozen of the other. It's stir-curry. Love you, too." Cameron tosses the wok, expertly jostling the contents to keep them from burning, all while turning his head in expectation of a kiss.
Who is Guy to deny Cameron? Not that his mother did any of the actual work involved in childrearing, but she didn't raise any fools.
Dinner, Guy decides, can wait for a few minutes.
Guy savors the taste of Cameron's lips, flavored with the tingling spices -- Cameron never can resist sampling while he cooks, swearing when he burns his lips or his tongue and going back to do it again minutes later. Guy used to try and warn the man; now he takes the opportunity to kiss Cameron's cooking-related damage better. The arrangement works for both of them.
"Mmm." Cameron licks into Guy's mouth. Without looking, Cameron moves the stir-curry off the heat and twists around, gathering Guy bodily into his arms and rocking his hips forward, the solid weight of an impressive hard-on prodding Guy's lower belly.
"You ate your Wheaties today, hmm?" Guy asks between biting kisses, Cameron catching his lower lip between his teeth and tugging playfully. "Hey, horny-boy. The stir-whatever'll burn."
"I can make more." Cameron bites the tip of Guy's nose, nearly surprising him into a sneeze.
He rubs the offended organ and laughs. "You've lost your mind for real this time."
Cameron grins sunnily. "Probably. Want me to stop?"
"Are you kidding me? Absolutely not." Guy winds the dangling strings of Cameron's apron around his fist, hauls Cameron up close and personal, and settles in to enjoy Cameron in a demanding mood. "Enjoy, babe."
"You know I will." Cameron digs his fingers into Guy's back, kneading with a deft, skilled firmness. "You're amazing." He skims one palm down over Guy's ass and squeezes. "I was going to be naked when you got here. Really surprise you. Except I forgot about how stir fry sort of spatters."
Guy laughs, throwing his head back. "Don't you ever change," he orders. "Now where were we?"
"Right about here." Cameron picks up where he left off, lapping his way into Guy's mouth. He sighs in time with Guy, going deeper, wanting more.
For his part, Guy gives back as much as he gets. He tugs at Camero
n until Cameron grumbles and allows himself to be moved. Guy repositions them with his back to the cool surface of the refrigerator. That gives him just enough support to -- yes. Satisfied, Guy lifts one leg and hooks his foot behind Cameron's knee. He plucks at the drawstring waist at the back of Cameron's board shorts, pleased to find them as loose as he remembers, and slides inside for a handful of tight ass.
Cameron's moved on to mouthing hungry kisses up Guy's throat, stopping beneath his chin to suck ruthlessly on the soft skin there, the pressure just shy of too painful.
"Marking me?" Guy asks breathlessly, tilting his head back to allow Cameron better access.
"Mmmhmm." Cameron nips the underside of Guy's jaw and lifts Guy's leg higher. He hisses in unison with Guy when the rigid lengths of both their cocks skim one against the other. "Yeah, yeah, more..."
"All you want, I got it," Guy breathes, his balls already aching with the need for release. "God, you're so -- you feel --"
At that moment in time, Cameron's stomach makes its own contribution, reminding them about the stir-curry almost ready to be eaten. It doesn't merely gurgle. It roars, snarling like the ravenous beast it is.
Guy snorts, amused. That's his Cameron. Appetite on legs. "You feel hungry, is what you feel like." Reluctantly, he pushes at Cameron's chest, nudging him back. "Go on, get the food. I'll take a rain check."
"Uh-uh." Cameron shakes his head and dives back in, licking the hollow at the base of Guy's throat. "We're nowhere close to done here, mister."
"Criminy, Cameron, they should market those Wheaties as the new substitute for Viagra," Guy says, tickled pink.
"Guy." Cameron looks at him on the level, deliberately making direct eye contact. Guy stares, falling deep into the sage honey color, the heated urgency he sees there taking his breath away. "I need this. Okay?"
"Cameron, not that I'd say no, but what's gotten into you?" Guy's worried. Cameron takes life as it comes, adding salt and tequila to any lemons batted into his court. He never loses his cool, not about anything. "Does this have anything to do with what I asked you to think about?"
Cameron shakes his head. His hair comes loose, sliding over his face and into his eyes. He expertly flips open the button and fly of Guy's slacks, tugging the zipper down, draws out Guy's swollen erection and squeezes the shaft, thumbing over the head. "Get this in me, Guy."
"Cameron --"
"Hey! Got a surprise for you." Cameron backs far enough away to give Guy a first-class view as he jerks open the drawstring on his shorts and drops them. Cameron turns, displaying his sweet, bare ass, only a little paler where his swim trunks cover him, and spreads his legs wide. "Look. Got myself ready before you came home. See?"
"Sweet Christ. Hope you washed your hands before you cooked." Guy can't look away. He can see the glistening slick of lubricant and puffy, already abused flesh. There's something going on inside Cameron's head that Cameron's holding out of reach and that's not good, but Guy's only human and his willpower is that of a mere mortal. "You're unbelievable, Cameron," he murmurs reverently.
"And don't you forget it." Cameron glances over his shoulder at Guy and grips the counter, canting his hips in invitation. "How's this for ringing a dinner bell?"
Guy only hesitates a second longer. Food or fucking, food or fucking… that kind of choice is no choice at all. "Olive oil," he blurts.
"What?" Cameron's nose scrunches up. It should look silly, but the twist adds a fox-like cast to his face, a hint of something wild and feral, and sends a jolt to Guy's already-raging libido.
"Unless you've got a tube of slick hiding under the napkin holders --"
"We don't have napkin holders."
"Cameron." Guy slaps Cameron's hip, enchanted despite his frustration. His gorgeous, absentminded beach boy. "Where's the damn oil?"
Cameron laughs, sounding for a moment as happy and carefree as Guy usually sees him. "Cupboard above my head." He wiggles his ass. "Gotta come and get it."
"Believe you me, I will." Guy pushes his open slacks down, tugging his boxer briefs along with them. They puddle at his ankles as he snugs in tight, reaching impatiently for the bottle. Thank God, Cameron remembered correctly. Guy can't smell the rich vineyard tang of the oil over the strong fragrance of the stir-curry, but it goes on smooth and slick and fast.
Cameron moans and grabs the counter harder, his knuckles going white.
"Shh, shh, I've got you." Guy hastily puts the bottle aside and lines himself up. He sinks home, grunting with the effort, a long, smooth slide that carries him balls-deep with Cameron snug and slick around his cock. He pauses, shuddering, trying not to come. "You," he says, knowing Cameron will understand what he means. "You."
"Me," Cameron agrees with a throaty hum. "Dreamed about this all afternoon."
Guy stretches out to grasp one of Cameron's wrists, pinning him fast. He withdraws, nearly slipping free, then slams in, rough and ready.
"Oh, yeah! More!" Cameron loves it, arching his back and trying to match Guy's rhythm that's not really a rhythm at all. Cameron's got him too worked up, too hot.
Guy loses any chance of a good long ride as soon as he reaches around Cameron and grasps Cameron's pulsing hard-on, slicking him with his own stickiness and pumping him unevenly.
"Yeah," Cameron urges, rocking awkwardly back and forth between hand and ass. "Just like that. Come on."
"No, not now, too soon," Guy complains, though to tell the truth he knows it's all over but the final push and the screaming. "I want to take all night here."
"More later," Cameron whispers. He rolls his shoulders, the display of power dazzling Guy, and then when Guy's off guard he clenches his ass, the dirty cheat.
Guy swears, the sudden, punishing constriction dragging him over the edge as surely as if he's a parachutist with rocks tied to his ankles. He curses a blue streak against Cameron's salt-slick skin and slams Cameron's hand against the counter. Cameron moans, his cock spasming in Guy's grip and coating his fingers in sticky-hot pulses.
They hang together, both breathing hard. Guy swallows and wipes his forehead on Cameron's back. "What was that?" he asks once he's got enough breath back to speak.
"That," Cameron answers him, "was the appetizer."
"Speaking of which, I know you. If you don't eat now, your stomach will start to consume itself." Guy reluctantly slips free of Cameron's ass and lets go of his wrist, pausing only to drop a kiss on Cameron's shoulder. "Time for the main course."
Cameron's stomach loudly agrees. Cameron laughs and shakes his head. He leans against the counter, long, brown limbs splayed in the laziness of afterglow, shorts around his ankles and hair tangled over his eyes, sweating and gorgeous and every inch of him property of Guy. "All right, all right already," he drawls, stretching with unabashed satisfaction. "You win. Feed me."
Guy likes the sound of that. "What do you want first? Your wish is my command."
"After a fuck like that one, I'm in your debt, not the other way around," Cameron says, lacing his fingers together behind his head. He kicks free of his shorts and, clad only in an apron, reaches out with one long, bare leg to nudge Guy with his toes. "Go on. You be the one to make a wish. Anything you want."
Guy's mouth acts independently of his brain. "I want you to marry me," he blurts.
Cameron's face falls. "Guy…"
"We could be good together like that," Guy insists, closing the gap between them. He rests his elbows on the counter and his chin on Cameron's chest, gazing up at him, thinking about seeing that face on the pillow next to his for the rest of his life. This whole marriage thing isn't even close to being about those idiots at work anymore. Guy knows what he wants, and it's Cameron. For always.
"Guy…" Cameron draws his lower lip between his teeth, worrying it in one of his sure-fire tells, warning Guy of serious uneasiness.
"Cameron, what's wrong?" Concerned, Guy reaches up to tug Cameron's lip free before he hurts himself. "You hate the idea that much? You really don't want to marry me?"
/>
Bam. Cameron shuts down in a way Guy's never seen before, humor leaching away into blankness, smile disappearing, eyebrows drawing together and eyes going cold. The sudden emotional withdrawal startles Guy into flinching away. "Cameron, what the hell?"
Cameron lifts away from the counter, not ungently nudging Guy out of the way. "I'm sorry."
He turns to walk away, leaving food and clothing and Guy behind.
"Wait, wait, wait. What's wrong?" Guy tries to follow him. "Cameron, talk to me."
Cameron stops, not looking back at Guy. His shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. "It's a bad idea," he says.
Guy tries, and fails, to understand. "Don't tell me you're against gay marriage now."