Page 17 of Merrick

“How was your day?”

“Pretty usual,” he answered.

“May I be bold?”

Merrick scoffed. “I think we’re past that.”

“Not yet we’re not.”

“You may,” he rasped.

“Did you jerk off in the shower today?” Wilder asked.

Merrick’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth like he’d eaten a spoonful of peanut butter. His eyes went wide and he managed to find the answer. “You told me to paint.”

“And did you?”

“Yes.”

Wilder eyed him again, a deeper level of focus and scrutiny crawling across his skin. He wasn’t sure yet if he loved the attention or hated it, but when Wilder spoke to him next, Merrick’s dick leaked.

“Good,” Wilder said softly. “That’s…that’s good. Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

“When did you eat?”

Merrick shrugged, because he honestly I had no idea. “I think I had some popcorn between my three and four o’clock.”

“Popcorn,” Wilder repeated. “Do you have any allergies?”

“No, but I hate cilantro.”

“Good man,” Wilder said, and heat flared at the base of Merrick’s spine.

Wilder had called him good boy before and he…hadn’t hated that. Merrick was sure Wilder was about to say it to him again about the painting, but for some reason, he’d stopped himself.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’m just going to grab a couple things out of the fridge.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Wilder waited until Merrick nestled into the corner of the couch, tucking his legs up beneath him. He did hesitate before getting comfortable, not sure if he had any lingering globs of inkon his clothes that would ruin Wilder’s couch, but Wilder didn’t move until he did. So, Merrick did what he’d been told.

He felt a new sense of pride at the way Wilder had nodded approvingly at him before disappearing into the small kitchen at the back of the house. Merrick listened to the fridge open and then some cabinets, and while he waited, he busied himself with taking his first real look at Wilder’s house. It had been so dark the night before and they’d barely spent any time at all in the living room to begin with.

Against the far wall was a mid-century-looking entertainment center with a flat screen TV in the center. There were a couple candles, some framed photos scattered across the surface, a discarded pen, and a crumpled gum wrapper. For some reason, the wrapper was the most telling part of the whole scene. He would have put money Wilder didn’t even realize it was there. He seemed like the kind of man who liked things to be in a certain order and trash on the entertainment center didn’t feel like order.

Sure enough, Wilder returned with two water bottles and a plate with sliced meats and cheeses in hand. He set the water on the table, grabbed the gum wrapper and shoved it into his pocket before joining Merrick on the couch. Wilder left enough space between them for the plate to rest on the cushions.

“Eat,” he said simply.

Merrickwashungry.

He plucked a slice of ham and rolled it around a slice of Swiss cheese before popping it into his mouth. As soon as he swallowed, his stomach growled. He wanted to hate that Wilder had been right, but the feeling never came. Instead, Wilder picked up one of the bottles from the table and twisted the top off. He handed it to Merrick.

“Thank you,” Merrick mumbled. He drank half the bottle. He’d been thirsty too.

“Do you drink water at work?”