Page 81 of Garbage

So he lay still and let Evan sleep, feeling each of his deep, slow breaths as if they were a new, necessary subroutine of his own.

Chapter 18

Evan

Evan slammed the car door, already wiping the sweat from his forehead. God, it was hot today. Far too hot to run, but he still rushed toward his apartment building with a little skip in his step. He knew it would only get him home a few seconds faster, but coming home to Quincy each evening made him feel as giddy as his often-ridiculous boyfriend.

Quincy had started a job at the cafe down the block three days ago, and each evening he’d come home bubbling with observations about the people and questions about the quirkiest things. It ranged from the acidity of coffee beans to the contemplation of how many novels were written in coffee shops every year to hypotheses about his co-workers’ dating lives.

It was fun to see him so energized—not that Quincy was ever really still. Evan had the luxury of falling asleep in Quincy’s arms each night, but he knew that shortly afterward, Quincy would be up again, posting more makeup tutorials, sewing increasingly impressive outfits, or plotting recipes for Evan’s dinners. The man worked about twenty hours a day—pretty much all the time that he wasn’t snuggling with Evan on the couch or making him scream in the bedroom—and all it seemed to do was make him more energetic.

Evan felt like he could have been jealous; Quincy barely had to look at something and he was already an expert. The way he could learn and perfect new skills was literally inhuman.

Evan could see how that would be threatening to someone who was insecure—this was the fear that the Human Firsters built their entire campaign around. Evan had never understood that, though. Watching Quincy learn a new skill was like going to a ballet or watching an elite athlete. Evan didn’t need to be able to do something himself to appreciate the beauty and talent of someone who could.

What mattered was that the core of Quincy’s identity didn’t seem to be changing as he picked up new hobbies or filled his mind with knowledge beyond Evan’s comprehension. Evan was starting to trust that Quincy’s wide-eyed joy in the world wasn’t a temporary effect of a new memory chip and access to the internet. It was simply his nature; the unique and adorable characteristics made him a spark.

It was easy to forget that Quincy had been self-aware for a whole twenty-six years, or some unknowable part of that time, and already had a deep understanding of himself. Last night, after going out to dinner with some friends, Quincy had stopped him in the middle of the sidewalk to admire a scraggly weed. Apparently he’d been watching it each day on the way to work, and he was expecting the small buds to open soon.

And if Quincy wasn’t going to change… if he wasn’t going to lose interest in the wonder of ugly little weeds in the sidewalk cracks… perhaps he wouldn’t lose interest in Evan’s boring little life, either.

It was scary, but it was also the best thing in the fucking world.

Evan still didn’t understand how he’d gotten so lucky.

He exited the elevator and held up his watch to the access plate at his door, already planning a nice, cool shower.

But not before he discovered what surprises his boyfriend had in store for him today.

He was expecting anything from a cozy dinner to a living room covered with fabric scraps.

What he was not expecting was Quincy’s muscular chest bulging out of a sheer red negligee, giving just a peek at the white panties underneath. Or to find Quincy, panting on the couch, with his hose tips being worked in each lubed hand. Quincy’s pincers were grazing over his legs and feet.

Evan grinned. Looked like someone had discovered masturbation.

He couldn’t imagine anything hotter.

Evan quickly closed the door—this luxury was for his eyes only—which finally drew Quincy’s attention.

“Evan!” he exclaimed, obviously pleased. And not at all embarrassed to be caught pleasuring himself. Not that he should be.

“This is a sight to come home to…” Evan replied, striding over to the coffee table. If Quincy wanted to put on a show, he was getting a front row seat. “Show me what you like, darling.”

“Mmm…” Quincy hummed, wrapping his wide palms over the ringed tips of his hoses. “I like this…” His head tilted back on the couch, the very picture of debauchery and pleasure.

Evan was instantly rock hard. “That’s right, baby. Keep touching yourself. Let me see you.”

Evan wanted desperately to touch as well. Those thick arms and legs. The provocative glimpses of that broad chest through the filmy red fabric, masculine and feminine all at once. Uniquely Quincy.

Evan drew in a sharp breath as Quincy’s toes curled from the touch of his claws. They were much more the focus of his pleasure than the flat rectangle hidden by those pretty white panties.

And god, the way that Quincy was working his hoses, broad hands sliding up and down while his thumbs teased the tips…

Evan would have been down on his knees in an instant, if Quincy wanted him there. But instead, all he needed to do was bask in the vision in front of him. “So good, baby… Can’t get enough of watching you…”

“You make me feel sexy,” Quincy told him, so innocent and honest.

That was all Evan had ever wanted. “You are sexy. All my fantasies come true.” Hopefully, Quincy would one day believe that wholeheartedly. He’d keep telling him until he did, and then more. “So pretty for me, darling.”