Electric Sunshine (Brooklyn Boys Book 1)

by E. Davies

  Charlie balanced the bags on top of one another and took the flowers. His expression was just glowing with an expression I hadn’t quite seen before. “You planned this all week? You sneaky man.”

  I beamed, proud of myself. “Yep.” When I’d asked for his flight details, I’d had a vague idea of doing it, but it had only become a pressing must-do when I’d realized…

  Well, when I realized how I felt.

  “Come on. Let’s go home,” I told him, nodding toward the subway.

  He grinned and shook his head. “I’ve got a car booked. I’m sure they won’t mind two. Let’s go.”

  Separating from him for even enough time to walk around the crowds on each side of the barrier was the hardest thing I’d done all week. When we met again, he’d looped the briefcase handles around the rolling suitcase so he had a hand free. Instead of taking the flowers, though, he took my free hand.

  I beamed up at him. “Welcome home, by the way.”

  “Thank you. I’m the luckiest man here.” He looked down at the flowers and then back at me. “I… I don’t even know what to say.” It was rare that he gushed, and I was walking on top of the world with pleasure that I’d managed to pull it off. He deserved to feel like someone was waiting for him.

  “No, I am. I missed you like hell,” I admitted. “It’s been quite a week.”

  As we found his driver, explained that we were both coming in the car, and climbed into the back seat together, I gave him bits and pieces of the story: I’d stopped college classes before the tuition deadline and I was in the process of exploring other majors.

  “Maybe psychology?” I offered. “Counseling?”

  Charlie, bless him, didn’t bat an eye at hearing that I’d dropped the whole idea of massage and I was veering wildly down another path. “You’d be great at that.”

  “You’re not even fazed.” I wasn’t sure if I was more surprised or amused. “Not even a bit.”

  He grinned sheepishly. “I wondered if massage was really what you wanted to do, to be honest. But I didn’t want to discourage you.”

  I squeezed his hand across the gulf of the backseat between us. “I feel the same way about… well.” About his job. But the last thing he probably wanted to discuss was that.

  He’d caught it, though. His lips crooked into a little smile. “May as well tell me. You’re pissed about Dubai, aren’t you?”

  I blushed. It wasn’t really my place to tell him off for a career decision. “I’m just… worried about your safety. And I don’t like the idea of supporting human rights violations.”

  “Me neither.” He surprised me at how much he lit up, his expression suddenly intense and passionate. “The developer says he’s working to guarantee all labor is freely chosen—and that things aren’t as bad as the exposés say—but I don’t know. I couldn’t live with myself if people were being treated like shit just for my step up the career ladder.”

  Oh, fuck. I might actually have loved him a little more now. That was why he wasn’t at all disappointed in me for quitting the grocery store after a day, then. He got what I meant. I’d never met someone so practical, yet apparently, idealistic, too.

  “Yes,” I breathed out. I was safe to say how I really felt with him. “Exactly. So why do it at all?”

  He recoiled and pressed his lips together, staring out the car window for a few moments before he looked back at me. “I’ve been waiting for this big break for too long to fuck it up now.”

  “Unless something better is around the corner.” I wasn’t going to give up yet.

  He shook his head. “I doubt it. I’ve been through my internship and my junior years. Five years,” he reminded me. “Five years of shitty menial jobs. The drafting nobody wants to do. I learned a lot, don’t get me wrong. But this is much more interesting… fulfilling, too. I get to see it all take shape. And this is the first time someone’s asked specifically for me.”

  I frowned at him. I expected better of him than to take a job because of his ego, but I could understand his career progression worries. “Should we talk about this when we get back to my place? Or, um, yours?”

  He’d lit up, though. “To yours?” he echoed. “Your house?”

  I squirmed, my grip tightening on his hand. “Well, I’ve been thinking about stuff… and we can’t really date if I’m, you know, hiding part of me from you.”

  Thank God I’d already quit school, or I couldn’t have cleaned the place from top to bottom first. Adam’s mess was contained to his room, and he was out all day anyway. Not working, but he wouldn’t say what he was up to—he was still being moody. The rest of the place looked as presentable as it could.

  “Yes,” was all he said. “I’d love to.”

  There was a kind of unspoken understanding between us, like our energies had naturally synced up again the moment we’d touched after a week apart.

  I leaned forward and gave the driver my address, and then we sat back and held hands, watching the world pass by. The sheer size of the city was easy to forget until it took this damn long to get from the airport to my home. He was quiet, too, seemingly lost in thought.

  But we didn’t need to talk every single moment. Just being alone together was okay with me. Another piece slowly sliding into place in my life, until I couldn’t imagine how I’d lived without it—without him.

  “Fuck!” I was too choked to say anything else, and not in the way I’d been anticipating for the whole car ride home.

  We’d barely made it into the front hallway before I spotted patterned shards across the carpet, distinctively radiating from the kitchen. The only way a cup could have broken and flown into pieces so far was…

  “Kev!” Charlie tried to grab my hand and hold me back, but with my shoes on, I didn’t hesitate to sprint across the hallway carpet into the kitchen.

  It was a disaster. Like a crime scene, shards sprayed out in a blast radius from the wall that had once held my precious shelf of cups. One of the brackets had crashed to the floor. Even the wooden shelf had cracked with the force of the impact.

  A few of the cups had clearly hit just right so they just chipped or cracked cleanly, but most of them…

  Most of them were write-offs.

  It was a stupid thing to cry about. Altogether, I’d probably spent twenty bucks on the collection. But I’d painstakingly gathered them from thrift stores across Brooklyn in the last four months. I associated each with a particular memory. Some more than others, because anything cracked or chipped, I’d carefully fixed with gold glue, like the Japanese art of kintsugi.

  The philosophy was beautiful to me: an object that had been put back together was seen as more beautiful than something shiny and new. I’d always hoped someone would see me the same way.

  Those cracked pieces I’d painstakingly restored to useful glory were in too many shards across the floor to process.

  Gradually, I became aware of a pricking pain in my foot. I cursed and hopped off that foot, leaning on the kitchen counter as I wiped at my stupid eyes.

  “Oh, no.” Charlie frowned as he picked his way around the stream of shards that had hit the carpet. He tried to scoot inside, but there were too many pieces lying everywhere to do so without stepping on them. “Shit.”

  Grief was very rapidly dwindling, and my chest was tight. “Adam!”

  No sign of him.

  “Adam, if you’re in your fucking room, I swear to God, I will kill you.”

  Still no answer, and Charlie gently cleared his throat and glanced down the hall to the bedroom. Adam’s room was visible from the doorway, but not the kitchen where I stood. “There’s a bedroom there with nobody in it.”

  “Good, or I’d fucking—I swear, this has to be him.”

  I’d just about had it with Adam and his clumsiness. Breaking cheap mugs was one thing, but my shit? And then skedaddling out of the place? Like he could just skip accountability, yet again, for everything he fucked up in life?

  Oh, I was going to wring his neck
.

  “Mea cupa?” Charlie offered. He was smiling as he reached out to touch my arm.

  I jerked away from him and flipped him off. “It’s not funny.” Fuck, now I was crying again. It was only a few stupid cups, and I was hurting myself—and him—over them.

  But, like a spring-loaded Jack-in-the-box, my feelings didn’t seem to want to go back in the box now that I was admitting to them. And I was pissed.

  “Sorry. It’s just Latin,” Charlie said, frowning again.

  “I know what fucking mea culpa fucking means,” I swore, supporting myself on the counter as I took one more look around the carnage. Once again, I was gonna be the person sweeping all of this up. “I’m not some redneck trailer trash who just landed in the city.”

  Charlie’s jaw dropped. “Kev. No, I—”

  “No, forget it,” I moaned, pressing my hands to my face. The poor guy was standing there with his rolling suitcase and flowers and I was yelling at him because my roommate was a giant dick who couldn’t keep his feet straight. “I’m sorry. Fuck. I thought my week of bad luck was over.”

  “Dunno how much bad luck a bunch of cups is,” Charlie said, but he’d opened the broom cupboard and pulled the broom out. “I’ll help. You stay still. You’re in the middle of it now.”

  My foot still stung and I tried not to let my lip quiver like a big baby. “Yeah.”

  He swept his way to me, making a path through the wreckage. As soon as he could, he leaned the broom against the counter next to me and hugged me. “I really am sorry.”

  I buried my nose in his shoulder and hugged him tightly. “It just feels like I can’t hold onto anything nice.”

  “You’ve got me,” Charlie murmured. “Arguably not at all nice, but I’m a good lay?”

  Finally, I managed a little laugh. It bubbled up from inside me, and then I couldn’t control it. “You’re… I don’t… fuck off,” I said, but I was laughing.

  And I couldn’t stop thinking about those words. You’ve got me.

  “I never promised to be nice,” Charlie murmured, and then he squeezed my backside. “In fact, I think naughty is what you’re after.”

  I ran my hands down his back. “Before we fuck, can I clean up my foot?”

  Charlie’s gasp was sharp as he pulled back and held me by the elbows. “Did you step on something? It went through your shoe? Here, lean on me and take your shoe off. Oh, my God.”

  The concern was sweet as anything. God knew I’d had worse, but it was kind of nice to just let him take care of me for a few minutes. I limped to the bathroom with his help and pointed out the first aid supplies, and then dried my eyes and splashed water over my face.

  “And by the way,” Charlie murmured as he knelt on the floor in front of the toilet while I sat on the lid, “I don’t care about where you’re from. I sure as hell don’t think you’re whatever you called yourself—redneck trailer trash. You’re sophisticated, but that’s not why I care about you, Kev.”

  “I don’t feel sophisticated right now,” I muttered. Here I was in my nice Diesel jeans and Tom Ford shirt, and he was in rumpled practical clothes taking care of me. It was a sudden shift in my priorities when I realized that I didn’t have to dress up for him—or anyone.

  I’d never given a shit about brand names for their own sake, but I’d felt like… like I needed to prove myself.

  And here he was, taking care of me when I’d just been horrible to him. If Darren had felt like a jerk last weekend, I sure did now. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled again, trying not to flinch away from the antiseptic.

  “No, I’m sorry I joked about it,” Charlie assured me as he put a Band-Aid on my foot and kissed the top of my foot teasingly.

  That, at least, made me smile. I grabbed him by the arms to pull him to his feet and then leaned on him as I stood, too. Good. My foot still ached, but without the shard in it, I could stand on it a lot better. “I never told you I collect that stuff.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Charlie offered me his arm like he was taking me to the ball. “Let’s leave that mess for Adam to clean up if he made it. Show me your room.”

  I breathed a sigh of agreement and leaned on him to hobble down the hall. He was polite enough not to show his surprise at the shabby little setup, either. He just pushed his way into my room, settled me on the bed, and sat next to me.

  “Thank you,” I murmured. I was suddenly aware of how close we were again—and how many days I’d been yearning for this. “I missed you.”

  He lay down beside me, propping his chin on his fist as he ran his hand up my side gently. “Yeah. So did I. The guys were asking if I had someone I was looking forward to getting back to.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “And?”

  Charlie gave me a fond look like I was being dumb. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  I smiled and snuggled into him, running my hands up his shirt. “And thank God for that.” His body was hard and warm and everything I needed right now.

  All my armor had fallen away. Partly because I’d willed it to, and partly because I was kind of a mess in every aspect of my life. But no matter what, Charlie didn’t seem to care about that. He was just here for me, as he had been since we’d talked about not-dating.

  “I kinda said I was dating someone, too,” I admitted in a murmur. “When I was talking to people last weekend. And it was nice.”

  Charlie’s breath caught. He pressed his lips against my cheek. “And?”

  I wasn’t letting him away without a proper kiss. I cupped his cheeks and pulled him in for a long, slow kiss. The kind that would make my knees wobble if I were still standing. As it was, it made my cock harden in my jeans, and I felt him reacting to it too.

  I moaned against his lips and rolled my head back, and he nipped my throat before swinging a leg over me. He was straddling me now, his hands settling on my shoulders as he leaned down to capture my lips.

  He wasn’t kissing me—he was claiming me. The way he kissed now was fiercely and unapologetically sexual. The raw energy coursing through him was burning under my skin, too, and I lost my patience.

  I got his t-shirt off as fast as I could without ripping it, and then he fought my clothes off and out of the way. Our hands slid over one another’s torsos, fingers teasing nipples and tracing lines along our ribs. I couldn’t be parted from him for a single second right now.

  “I need you,” I whispered. “Would you fuck me?”

  “I’d love to,” he whispered. Either that or I love you. I couldn’t hear which, and it took me a few seconds before I even realized I wasn’t sure.

  By then, he was busy peeling the rest of our clothes off.

  “Babe, I… got tested while you were away.” I’d always been careful to use protection at work, and to track the window periods. “I’m going to stay on PrEP until we get tested together. I’m happy to stay using condoms if you want, but…”

  “I’d love to bareback my boyfriend.” Charlie offered me a teasing smile.

  Was that him asking me? I squirmed under him, naked and hard and full of more feelings than I could contain. They were bursting out of me now in stupid words. “Are you—are we—can that be me?”

  Charlie laughed gently and pressed a few more kisses against my lips. “That’s what I wanted to ask you, baby. I’d love to bareback. And… since I got tested a couple years ago…”

  “Yeah,” I breathed out with a smile. “Just me.”

  “Nothing just about you,” Charlie murmured as he ran his thumb along my jaw. I blushed and looked down, but he kissed me again and wouldn’t let me shy away from the attention. “I’m serious.”

  “I… thanks?” I offered weakly, not really sure what to say. “Wanna fuck me and seal the deal?”

  Charlie laughed and looked around. “More than anything, but lube would be a good idea.”

  “I guess.” I grinned as I grabbed the bottle from under the bed and wriggled to get enough space. “Stand back, I’m going in.”

  He laughed
and knelt between my legs, casting an admiring gaze up and down my body. Being the object of his gaze made me hot all over. I couldn’t fucking wait to have him inside me again. All I wanted was to stay like this forever and forget about all the rest of the world’s bullshit.

  The thought of his cock inside me made my fingers feel all too thin. I bit my lip and slid them out. He took the bottle to add a little more lube to his cock, and my eye was drawn to the sight of glistening liquid spreading across flushed pink.

  He was so fucking hot, and he was all mine. The thought made me smile.

  Charlie spotted the expression, as always. “What’s on your mind?” I shook my head, but he slowed his strokes and gazed at me. “I wanna know.”

  “I’m happy,” was all I could say. There weren’t any better words for it besides that. And how long had it been since I was able to say that without qualification?

  Sure, life was shitty in some ways, and I was scared I wouldn’t cut it in the big city, and I was afraid about what our careers would do to us, but…

  We were here, together and officially dating, and that was all I could ask for.

  “I have a boyfriend,” I added, my voice squeaking slightly.

  He grinned broadly. “So do I. And I’m about to make love to him. Or would you prefer a good fuck?”

  “Make the headboard hit the wall. Not too hard, though. Those walls are crappy.”

  Charlie’s laugh was beautiful. His fingers caressed my hip before he guided himself to my opening and inside. He was thick inside me, stretching me open slowly with every inch of himself. I breathed deeply and tasted the scent of sex, of his particular musk, of the flowers I’d seen him briefly press his face into while we were in the car.

  I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew what I wanted, and that was him.

  He slowly thrust, and my nails dug into his hips as I hissed. “Slow.” I hadn’t even been playing with toys as much as usual lately. And more than that… it was taking my brain some time to wrap around the fact that he was here, and inside me.

  Charlie did indeed take it slow, like the sweetheart he was under that gruff exterior. Our gasps and moans were the soundtrack to a movie I’d been on edge and eager to experience for the last week—longer, really. And it was everything I could have hoped for.