Excerpt from Mashing
Toby turned the music up louder, hoping that it would let him focus, push past the ache. The doctor had cleared him to work, to sculpt, so he’d headed to the studio first thing, started cleaning and hauling clay.
Jeannie had called him two weeks ago, letting him know she was moving out. Pregnant. He didn’t think she ever actually had sex, and she was pregnant? Weird. Cool, though, and she’d sounded so excited, so Toby didn’t even fret.
He hadn’t been back to the apartment in even longer than that, Damon insisting he stay while he was under orders not to use his arm.
Right now, the pain burned in his shoulder, the ache deep and throbbing inside him.
His phone rang and he almost didn’t look. Almost. When he did, though, he saw that it was Damon and he was glad he’d checked.
His ass tingled at the sight of his lover’s picture, and he answered quickly. “Hello?”
“Mmm. Hello.” God, Damon could be…slinky when he wanted to.
“Hey.” Toby turned the music down, leaned against the wall.
“Hey. This is your ‘I hope you’re not pushing things too hard’ call.”
“Huh?” He was drenched with sweat, burning, and still not quite focused on the call, on anything that wasn’t his art.
“I’m at the door, Toby. Let me in.”
“Why didn’t you just come in?” Toby headed to the door, opened it.
“It’s your studio and you didn’t hear me knocking.”
Damon turned off his phone and came in, giving him a hug. Toby leaned in, suddenly shaking, exhausted.
“Oh, baby. I had a hunch you’d overdo.” Supporting him, Damon led him over to the one chair his studio boasted.
“I’m fine. Did you see the new piece?”
“No, you’re not fine, but you will be. And no, I didn’t. You were all I saw.”
Toby swayed, beginning to cool off, sweat drying. The real world beginning to come into focus again.
“You stay sitting,” Damon ordered. “I can look at your new piece from here.”
“I may have lost my touch…” What if he had? What if Damon hated the new piece?
Damon snorted. “I highly doubt that.”
“I hope not.” He didn’t think he could bear that. Sculpting was his life, and after he’d gotten shot in the shoulder and hadn’t been able to work… Well, he needed to work, it was as simple as that.
“So tell me about this piece,” Damon demanded.
“It’s for the gallery. It’s called Pain.” It was his shoulder, formed into a bullet. He’d poured it all into the clay.
Damon got up and went over to where he’d been working. “Ouch.”
“Yeah. Yeah, love.” That was it. Ouch. Exactly what he’d been going for.
“You really are an amazing artist,” Damon said softly, still looking at the piece. “I can feel your pain.”
“Yeah? Not too hokey?” Was Damon just being nice? Had he lost his edge?
“There is nothing hokey about the emotion in this piece.” Damon looked over at him, met his gaze. “And I promise I’m not blowing sunshine up your ass, baby.”
Toby took in a jerky breath. Thank God. “Good. Can we go home now?” He found himself close to tears. “I’m really sore and tired.”
“You pushed yourself too hard.” Damon clucked and came over, helping him stand. “And yes, let’s go home.”
What would he do without Damon? He knew he didn’t want to find out. Toby leaned over, kissed Damon’s cheek. Damon turned his head so they were kissing lips to lips. The kiss lingered, then Damon pulled back and they headed out, Damon’s hand warm around his.
“Did it feel good?” Damon asked. “Working?”
“Uh-huh. It doesn’t now, but it did.” Now everything just hurt, but the need to work that had been clawing at him from the inside was gone.
“Good. So maybe you’ll stay home tomorrow and rest, hmm?”
“Maybe. Maybe, yeah.” Just the thought of lifting his arm made him a little sick.
“I’ll tie you to the bed again if I have to.” Damon’s words sounded like a promise.
“Be nice.” He almost offered Damon his wrists.
“I am being very nice. Helpful, even.”
Damon put him in the car, which was parked just out front. He moaned as he sat, his muscles protesting. It wasn’t far, but he wasn’t sure now that he could have walked back to Damon’s place.
Damon came around and leaned over, putting his seatbelt on for him. “There’s some Tylenol in the glove compartment.”
“Thanks.” He took three, hoping they worked. There was a bottle of water in the cup holder, too, and by the time he’d downed half of it following the pills, Damon was pulling into a parking spot behind the Corner Pub.
“Home.” Toby knew he shouldn’t think of this as home, but he did. It was.
“Yeah.” Damon came around and helped him out of the car, taking his good hand and leading him up the back way.
By the time they got up the stairs, he was sweating again and really glad Damon had come when he had. Toby wasn’t sure how he’d have gotten home otherwise. He probably would have crashed at the apartment and he didn’t want to—he wanted to be here with Damon.
Excerpt from Brewing
Peter watched the sign go up for Chip and Drip, a little thrill going through him. He turned to his clipboard with its massive to do list and checked off the second to last item. All that was left with his walk-through and he and Christian had an appointment with their contractor in ten minutes to do exactly that.
He shook hands with Dave and Brian. “Thanks, guys. That looks great.”
“I hope you’re as pleased with the rest of the work.” Dave took off his hat and wiped his brow, before putting it back on again.
“I bet I am.” As far as Peter could see, everything had been done professionally and more than competently.
He checked his watch and looked up the street for Christian. His boy should be arriving at any moment. He caught sight of his stunning, studly lover, his reluctant submissive. His soldier. He felt his heart beat faster as it always did when he first saw Christian, and a smile pulled at his lips.
Christian looked up from his phone, smiled at him, and sped up. Looked like his boy was eager to see him too. He opened his arms for a hug and to pull Christian close, despite the fact they were in public. His boy needed to get used to such things.
Christian stiffened, but only for a moment, then his boy hugged him back.
“Good boy,” he whispered for Christian’s ears only. Then he stepped back and nodded to the sign. “What do you think?”
Christian looked up, head tilting. He pondered it for a long moment, long enough that Peter started to worry, then he nodded, a smile blooming. “It’s perfect.”
“Oh good.” Peter chuckled at himself at the relief that flooded through him. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed Christian to like the sign. Hell, the whole place. He was doing this for his boy.
“I can’t believe we’re doing it. That it’s a real thing.”
“It’s a great investment. Between giving us somewhere to live, a place to earn a living and a little extra income from our second floor renter, we’re coming out ahead.” He put his hand on Christian’s back. “Sam’s waiting for us in the lobby to show us everything they’ve done.”
“I have my camera.” Christian’s bright blue eyes were lit up and shining.
“Going to document everything?” At Christian’s nod, he pointed at the sign again. “You want to start with that or end with it?”
“Let’s start with it. It’s an auspicious beginning.”
“That’s a great word. Auspicious.” Smiling he waited for Christian to do his thing with the camera.
Christian shot the sign, then they headed in, together.
Sam was a stud of a woman, all flannel and muscles with long blonde hair that she usually kept in a ponytail with a bright pink hard hat.
“Well, boys. It’s here. Time for your final walk-through.”
“Hey, Sam.” Christian grinned at her. “You pleased with the job?”
“I’ll let you know as soon as you tell me what you think. I’m not happy until my clients are happy.”
“Fair enough. Let’s start in the café.”
“You got it.”
She led them in, and the place was a far cry from the run-down storefront the building had boasted when he’d bought it. It was now warm and homey, tables surrounded by a variety of chairs, all padded, all inviting.
Christian’s fingers trailed over the tables, his boy so sensual, so tactile.
The counter had a cash register on it, and there were a couple of glass covered showcases. The kitchen was tiny, a large open rectangular window separating it from the cash area. It would be easy for Christian to work on stuff in there and keep an eye on the place at the same time, make sure he wasn’t ignoring anyone at the cash register.
She led them to the back where they had cold storage, prep space. It felt like what his Christian had asked for—clean and easy, simple and straight-forward. “I just want a place to grab a coffee, a sandwich or a cookie. Just easy and no big deal.” That’s what this was.
“What do you think, boy?” Peter, frankly, thought it was perfect.
“I love it. It’s perfect. In a month, I’ll be up and running and you’ll have to come in for a latte, Sam.”
She beamed at Christian. “With a double shot of espresso.”
Peter chuckled. “You’ll have to put it on the menu as ‘The Contractor’.”
“You know it.” Christian smiled at Sam. “Almond milk latte with an extra shot.”
“All right!” Sam gave a fist pump. “Okay, you want to see the rest of the place?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Christian grinned over at him. “Peter?”
“Absolutely. Especially the third floor.” Not that he didn’t care how the studio looked, but the top floor was going to be their home.
Christian took pictures of everything. The stairs, the hall—everything.
The studio was simple—open and clean, with a metric fuck ton of industrial shelving, sinks with heavy-duty drainage and a killer sound system. It had its own bathroom and a small area walled off with the world’s tiniest kitchenette and room enough for a couch.
“I think Toby will like it, don’t you?”
Christian was closer to Toby than he was, so Peter figured his boy was a better judge.
“I do. I really do. He’s already ordering supplies. The clay should be here tomorrow.”
“Sounds like he’s even more eager than we are to get this place up and running.” He thought Toby was going a little stir-crazy, really. Though he knew damn well Damon was keeping Toby hopping in the bedroom. Toby needed the sculpting, though. All the way to the bones. Even he could see that.
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