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Elliot smiles, pleased. “Are you ready to see my bedroom now?”

“Yes.”

“I put the best of the sheets on for you.”

“ Of the really implies a lot in that sentence.”

Elliot laughs and takes my hand. “You haven’t seemed at all freaked out by the clutter.”

We walk through the house as we talk. “It’s loved,” I say. “I appreciate that.” I clear my throat lightly. “And if we ever lived together, I’m sure you’d appreciate me organizing the mess.”

Elliot laughs. “I’d even do my best to keep it organized myself.”

He throws the door open to his bedroom. There’s a big iron headboard with fake flowers and black ribbon tied to it, and fresh red sheets are on the mattress.

Illustrations are tacked all over the walls, his own and other artists’, and there’s eclectic furniture scattered around, little benches and shelves and a bean bag love seat.

I walk over to the bean bag love seat and sit straight down, falling into it. “Exactly how I imagined.”

Elliot grins and crawls on top of me. “Good,” he says, and we kiss and roll around.

The stresses of the world feel a million miles away. The fun evening has left me in a relaxed, happy mood, and all the casual touching has worked up my desire, too.

We make our way to the bed, where I unbutton his jumpsuit. He looks sexy as hell in it, and I appreciate his strength when he works my shirt open.

“Hank,” Elliot says, his hand up under my shirt and against my bare chest.

“I want you to fuck me tonight,” I tell him.

Elliot squeezes my nipple, and I jolt with pleasure. “Hell yeah.”

We strip to our underwear, and I get on top of him, my desire hardening. His erection is stiff against my ass, and I drag up and down, feeling the pressure.

My hand goes to Elliot’s face, my fingers in his beard, and he groans with pleasure. “Fuck, Hank. Yes!” His grip finds my dick, and he squeezes my shaft through my boxer briefs. “You’re so hot when you’re horny.”

I want him inside me so bad, I can almost feel it. I’m ready for something we’ve been talking about since we first hooked up on the island.

Elliot takes me in a kiss. “Let me get you nice and wet first.”

My face buried in his pillow, inhaling his scent, I pull my underwear down and offer Elliot my ass. He gives me a rimjob so deep and satisfying, I almost cum grinding my erection against his mattress.

When I’m ready for him to enter me, though, I get on my back again. Elliot gets on top and spreads lube between my cheeks, a sheen of sweat on his chest and forehead as his slim muscles tighten with desire.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about your ass tonight,” he tells me.

I grab his hip and hitch him to me, sweaty and burning for him. “Show me,” I tell him. “Fuck me hard, Elliot.”

He gets in position, we shift our weight, and he eases in. My hole stretches as I take him, and I huff, tensing before I breathe and relax again.

Elliot fills me, sending pleasure reverberating from my core. One hand on my chest to support himself, he guides his hips, exploring me from the inside.

“You’re so hot and tight,” he tells me and squeezes my ass. “Feels so good inside you.”

I widen my legs, opening more. “Elliot. Yeah. Right there.”

He knows my spots and manages to find them quickly. Our rhythms line up, and I throw my head back, taking him deeper.

He thrusts into me, giving me exactly what I want.

The sensations obliterate everything else. It’s just me and Elliot, our naked bodies smashing. I grasp at him and feel his muscles, and when I’m ready to explode, I pull him down and into a kiss.

Elliot plunges into me deep as I clench hard. I groan as my entire body vibrates, and when my balls draw up, I shoot, unloading spray after spray of sticky cum. Elliot moans with deep satisfaction and grinds his dick into my spot, then cries out when he thrusts again and ejaculates inside me.

A sticky, sweaty mess, we lie together on his sheets. I feel like I’m floating down a river and drunk on good wine.

“Hold up,” Elliot murmurs. “Prepared for this.”

He crawls over me and rummages in his bedside table, emerging with wet wipes and a towel. Carefully, Elliot cleans me, his hands gentle and efficient.

“I’ve got fresh sheets, too, if you want,” he says. “Thought it might help you sleep better.”

I shake my head, smiling. “This is perfect,” I say, and pull Elliot into my arms, happy just to hold him again.

After a satisfying sleep, I wake with the sunrise, my usual time.

Crawling carefully out of bed, I dress and escape without waking Elliot.

Downstairs, I busy myself with a little cleaning, washing the last couple dishes and wiping the counters.

The morning light is beautiful in his backyard, and I enjoy it as I make coffee and help myself to a little yogurt from the fridge.

There’s something I quite like about this.

It’s not that I want to be cleaning up his messes.

I know he’s being extra tidy for my sake, in fact, which I appreciate.

But I’ve always enjoyed being responsible, and there’s something satisfying about being the one to wake early and take care of the few forgotten tasks from last night, putting the house in shape before the day starts.

As I take the first sip of coffee, it dawns on me that I might actually like being the older boyfriend, in ways that I did not at all expect. Something I’ll have to ponder.

Elliot enters the kitchen in his underwear and a t-shirt, groggy-eyed. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” I answer, glad to see him. “It’s a gorgeous day.”

Elliot kisses me. “After an amazing night. We’re so hot together.”

I kiss him back. “I hope I wasn’t too loud with your roommates around.”

“We’ll just pretend the walls are soundproof and not thin as dried leaves, okay?” He nods toward the front. “I was going to pick a bouquet for the table. Did you notice the bush with the pink flowers?” He asks. “I can’t remember the name of it. You’ll know.”

I walk over to the front window. “Rhododendron, maybe. Is it out here by—” When I look outside, though, I jump back from the window with a “Whoops!”

“Not a rhododendron?” Elliot asks.

All my nerves snap alert. “There’s someone watching your house.”

“What?” Elliot walks over to the window, but I pull him back.

“With binoculars!” I hiss. “In a car across the street.”

“Oh, crap.” Elliot creeps over to the side window, peering through the slit in the curtains. “There’s definitely someone staring at my house,” he confirms. “I bet you it’s paparazzi.”

I shake my head. “This isn’t good.”

“We never open the front curtains. Maybe the person will get bored and leave.” He looks to me. “There’s an easy way out the back alley. It takes you a block over, so you’ll be able to exit without being spotted.”

I nod, glad to hear it, but it hardly eases my concerns.

“Damn it,” Elliot says. “Everything felt like it was finally going in the right direction, but my mistake at the rally must have stirred extra attention. I’ve got a full day of illustration work ahead, and now I’m going to be distracted by this.”

I think for a moment. “My place is private. I can enter through the rear garage, and my condo isn’t visible from ground level. Would you like to come over?”

“For the day?”

“Or longer, I guess.” I push my hand through my hair. “I’ll be at the office, of course, so you could have the condo to yourself. And I have plenty of leftovers. I’d be happy to offer you some support while you’re working so hard.”

Elliot drapes his hands over my shoulders. “That does sound nice. And very generous of you, Hank.”

I nod, confident in the plan and eager to get away from the paparazzi outside. “Good. You’ll come to my place.”

Elliot brushes a kiss over my lips. “I’ll pack a bag.”