Page 88 of Total Creative Control

“Right.” Lewis didn’t look round.

“You’re taking yours back to the office, I see,” Aaron said. Did he sound relieved? Tense, certainly. Uncomfortable.

Lewis said, “I am, yes.”

Brilliant.

An awkward pause. Aaron bit lightly at his lower lip, then nodded at the cup in Lewis’s hand. “Hot chocolate, extra cream?”

Lewis glanced down. There was chocolate-flecked whipped cream oozing out of the little hole in the lid. “How did you guess?” he said drily.

“Elementary, my dear Watson.” With a tentative smile, Aaron said, “Has it been a bad day then? If you’re going for the hard stuff, I have to wonder.”

“I’ve had better ones.” He held up the paper bag. “In fact, I’ve brought in the big guns: ham sandwich. White bread, no salad.”

Aaron made a face. “Must be serious.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” He said it too sharply, not wanting to sound needy, and Aaron stared at him for a moment. Then he shrugged.

“Sure.”

Another silence. Lewis ploughed on through it, waving his sandwich bag at Aaron’s chest, “So is this your Hallowe’en party outfit for tonight?”

“Huh?” Aaron looked puzzled, lowering his eyes to his chest as though to remind himself what he was wearing.

“I thought maybe you were channelling a pumpkin?”

Aaron spluttered a laugh at that. “Are you casting aspersions on my weight?”

“What? No,” Lewis protested and tried hard not to remember the feel of Aaron’s lean, bare body beneath his own, in his arms... He cleared his throat. “I’m going by colour alone. You’re more of a parsnip, shape-wise.” He grimaced as soon as the words were out. Christ, could he sound any more inane?

Luckily, Aaron seemed to find it amusing. He grinned and said, “I’m not sure that’s a compliment, but I’ll let it go. And no, this is not my outfit. We’re not all allergic to fancy dress, you know.”

“What are you going as, then?”

“Some demony, warlocky sort of thing.”

“A demony warlock,” Lewis repeated slowly. “What’s that?”

Aaron shrugged. “I won’t know till later. I have a bunch of stuff I’ll throw on and see how it turns out. Robes. Cloaks. Wands.”

“Cloaks?”

Aaron shrugged, but his light grey eyes twinkled with humour. “Yeah. That kind of thing.”

Lewis shook his head. “For a demon, you needwings, my friend. And wands? For a warlock? No, no, no.”

“No?”

“At the very least a staff! Wands are for little kiddy wizards!”

Aaron laughed, a throaty chuckle that reminded Lewis of old times and did something fierce to his dick.

He was almost glad that Tag chose that moment to arrive.

“Oh, hi again,” Tag said in that insufferably friendly tone he always used. He smiled at Lewis as though they were best friends and set his tray on the table. It held two bowls of disgustingly healthy-looking green-sludge soup and two big glasses of freshly squeezed juice. No doubt all five of Tag’s five-a-day were catered for on that tray.

“Hi,” Lewis said with a tight smile. Probably a rictus. “I was just”—he lifted his sandwich bag again and shrugged.