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Ain't no freakin' way I was in any mood to deal with Ryan. Back in the day a message like that (or even an email) meant I was supposed to hop to it and respond, not to mention provide, immediately. I shouldn't condemn him for that though. I always complied, so that's what he was accustomed to. A monster of my own creation I suppose. But now hindsight had shown me quite clearly how that was a form of his power over me, and one that he wasn't afraid to exploit.
Not this time, bucko. He'll send an email since I didn't answer or respond on the double. He may even come over without invitation.
*lightbulb*
It was barely noon at this point, so I went next door and let myself in.
"Hey Tony!"
Whatever he was doing, wherever he was, he shot to the kitchen. He just looked at me and smiled.
"I'm running up to Hardee's to get us some lunch. What do you want?"
He started looking around for his wallet (presumably), so I continued, "Don't worry about it. I'll get it... so long as you promise me something."
"What?"
"When I come back, after we eat, I'll help you out around here so long as you promise to work with your shirt off."
With a sly grin he said, "Deal," and reached up to squeeze one of his own pecs. What a tease.
I jumped in my truck, got copies made of my house keys, got the burgers and rushed back.
"Back here," he yelled.
I found him sitting on that mattress, shirt still on. When I handed him the bag, he set it down and stood up. Oh boy, I thought, drool time! Except not. He left the room and returned a moment later with a couple beers in hand.
"Are those keys on the counter for me?"
"Yup," I said as I took the beer he'd popped open for me and motioned toward his burger.
For the next several minutes we quietly ate and drank together, neither saying a word or even looking at each other. When we were done I bagged the wrappers.
He stood up and told me to as well. His hand went back to massaging his pec again, so I asked, "What's up with --" mimicking his gesture on my own.
"I need an incentive to get back to work... such as your having a suck and a chew at my nipple."
'Nuff said. I'm on task. My hands went for the hem of his shirt but he stopped me.
"No. Through the cloth."
I closed my eyes and starting from his ear I ran my nose down his neck, out his shoulder, and along the curve of his pec until I found it. No searching, dead reckoning. He sighed deeply and began stroking my hair. I kept at it, nibble here, tug there. When I sensed he was ready for me to stop, I just moved to the other one!
Laughing, grabbing, pushing, clinging ensued. Before I knew it we were wrestling. I knocked him down onto the mattress and began trying to pull his shirt up with my teeth. Eventually the tussle calmed. I rested my head on his heaving chest. We were quiet. And happy.
"Time for work and you know what that means," I said and kissed him.
We got up and he did a slow strip tease dance for me, slowly pulling it up and off.
He grinned. I drooled.
Work went along quickly. We scraped paint off molding. We got a lot done, but would have gotten more done if we hadn't spent so much time looking at each other, and goofing around with the occasional slap and tickle.
Around 4 I guess it was I said I ought to go and insisted that he take all the credit for the work done. As we were saying our good-byes, his cell rang. It was her. She wasn't going to get there till late. 7 at the earliest, probably closer to 8. He was on his own for supper.
"OK," he said. "I'll see what Seth's doing. Maybe we can get a pizza or something."
"Good idea. I won't rush then. See you later."
Just from his end of the conversation I knew what was going on. When he hung up I asked, "How late?"
"Eight. Maybe later."
"In that case, I'll scrape a little more then run over and whip something up for us to eat. When you've had enough work, come over."
We both looked at ourselves and each other, both covered with sweat, dust, and paint chips. Especially him.
"You can get cleaned up over at my place."
"You do too." With a grin he added, "Showers are in order for both of us. Why waste water? Go do your cooking. I'll be over before you know it."
A quick kiss and back I went. I slung a pot of water to start boiling for pasta, rummaged through the cabinets for whatever I could find to go with it. Tomato sauce, puree. I knew I had red peppers. In the fridge I found garlic. I was frantic for anchovy paste and capers, but no. Kalamata olives though! No onions. Crap. First time I cook for the dude and he's gonna get stone soup.
I checked the answering machine. 3 new ones. I could only guess who they were from. So I went to check email. 3 from him, the last one with the subject header 'please don't hate me'.
Fuckin' Ryan. What am I going to do with him? I can't just tell him to back off. I don't know why. I just can't. Maybe cuz there's something in there I still believe in. Want him back? Not. Want him gone? 'Not so much' as he used to say. I don't know how to respond or what to say. I'm busy at the moment. I don't even want to think about it. But if I don't say something, he'll hound me all night, maybe even show up.
So I sent an email:
Stoner:
I'm having a friend over tonight and don't have time right now.
Maybe tomorrow or something.
Instant response.
k. and please don't call me that
I had sauce to make. He'd be here any minute.
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encroaching increase of darkness - 2008-11-02
Bones - 2008-09-20
random bitchings and musings - 2008-07-09
Man with Huge Cock - 2008-07-04
Eric and other crazy shit - 2008-06-29
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Thinkin' 'bout: martini
Dog(s) keeping me company: Tony just pulled in
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